#i was over here searching up different afterlifes to include them

[xysidhequeen]

"I'm flattered you like it enough to read twice, anon!" yeah... twice. twice everyday, that would be closer to the truth <3

Hahahaaaa what? You wut?

I

What

Not just one reread?? But several?? Multiple?? You do this often?? And apparently you're not alone someone else said they reread every time I update.

WHAT?!

I didn't think or even like dream people enjoyed the story enough to reread multiple times 😭 what is this. What.

A present for almost bringing me to tears, anon. This is one of the sweeter scenes in Part 14

💚

There were pictures of a younger Danny, all scrawny, gangly limbs, bright smiles, and eyes full of hope and happiness. There were even more pictures taken in the past two and a half years. Some of just Jason, but majority pictures of Jason and Danny, with a healthy amount of the entire gang.

Jason could see a picture of him and Danny laughing on top of Frostbite's shoulders in the Far Frozen. Jason and Dani riding Fright Knight's steed through Hell while a pack of demons chased them. Sam, Tucker, Danny and Jason on a picnic in the Summer Lands. Jazz smacking Danny when he tried to drink mead in Valhalla while Jason was in the background comparing swords with the valkyries. Sam chatting with Persephone and Pandora while Hades played a board game with Danny, Jason and Tucker while Cujo and Cerberus played tug of war.

[leonstamatis]

wait i have a second one. hello blink my love can you please share your logic behind who is which houses in the sangfielle gideon the ninth au. thank you

hello yes. would you believe this was the hardest part. this was fucking impossible. i’m not sure what i ended up with is GOOD, but let’s get into it.

first house isn’t really here. i didn’t include a teacher character, although my hidden lore is that god/the emperor is dayward yve, a guy who starts out just kind of slightly unlikable and then by the end just sucks. he works well in the role except he’s even less likable than john somehow.

second house is pickman and chantilly. there’s very little logic behind this, honestly, other than “pickman is a soldier very determined to do her work.” chantilly is not a soldier, though, or at least not a very good one. this is not the ideal cohort pair of the books, this is one very good cohort soldier and a cohort necromancer who was mostly sent here so she would stop fucking up everything else the cohort tried to do. they’re here because they are both at least loosely tied to trains and the shape and knighthood, and that is the closest alignment to the cohort. (I did consider chine and the child for this one, but I think pickman and chantilly don’t match up very well with the third house, so here we are!)

the third house! chine and the child/“it.” this is because of the dedication to the course, which typically manifests as beautiful natural scenery much like what we find in some areas of earth, the third planet! i believe I’ve told you this, but cleavers like chine can ascend to become “angels.” and that, to me, is similar to lyctors. but out of the two of them, I think the child is more of a necromancer than chine is? we see it engaging in more adaptational growth as it ages, and chine really likes the poleax. this is very much a “we only have our one child heir, and this cav has protected it since birth even though they’re like forty years older” kind of situation. but they’re third house mostly because chine is green grass and sunlight and water, and the third house is that kind of. excess. in a slightly different way.

the fourth house is lye lychen and fendleton not because they’re good fighters — lyke has proven over and over that he is not — but for the mentality of “rushing in” without any prep or thought. the fourth house is like. fuck around and find out. and that’s lyke, to me.

the fifth house! jolyon and duvall! so jolyon is Duvall’s old friend from school who actually died and was reanimated later by train magic, which is why he’s one of just a couple initial deaths listed in the fic. i picked the two of them for this role because of the fifth’s connection to souls and the afterlife; duvall is searching constantly for what counts as personhood, which ties in nicely with the fifth house, and jolyon continues to exist and have an important part in the story after his death, much like abigail. they fit!

the sixth house is marn, because marn is a researcher and a healer. she writes a thesis based on the events of sangfielle and she abandons the greater mission to protect other people from harm, which is very pal to me. and bucho is here because it’s important to me that marn and bucho stick together. they’re a set. i enjoy them.

virtue mondegreen, i think, is a good sort of counter to what the seventh house is in the books? she’s existed past the point of her own death, which quite literally haunts her, and that is the defining point of her arc. the idea of continuing past your expiration date is something both dulcinea and cytherea talk about at great lengths, so it just. made sense. to put virtue and darling here. sometimes your life is defined by the end of it. sometimes that’s your whole culture, even.

es and syn!!! i know that the books make the eighth house really weird assholes. but the way that their powers kind of work — consuming the soul of your cavalier to make magic, draining the color from your environment — seemed like a really damn good translation for how heritrixes work. es doesn’t have a body in sangfielle. she can’t function without syntyche. and that’s true of eighth house necromancers and cavs, in a way it literally isn’t in any other house. they can’t be separated at all or they lose their strongest assets. it works!!

the ninth house is the bone house. dyre ode is the bone guy. gasteau is his little buddy. it was the second one I thought of, after es and syn.

thank you dear ilyyyyy ilysm !!

[wondernimbus]

book-thief — james potter

pairing: james potter x female!reader

prompt: reader and james fight over the last book on the shelf.

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

[Y/N]'s arm stills in mid-air, hovering over the spine of the lone textbook as she makes eye contact with a familiar-looking boy whose hand is similarly outstretched towards the same book: Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage. It's the only one left on the shelf.

"Um," she says, pursing her lips as she grabs the book before he can even think about breaking eye contact. "Sorry. I got here first."

Diagon Alley is especially busy during this time of the year, less than a week before Hogwarts is set to reopen its doors to welcome a brand new set of first years and resume learning for the rest of the older students. Every single shop [Y/N] has gone into so far has been bustling with witches and wizards going about their shopping business—including Flourish and Blotts.

The bookshop's usually stocked shelves are almost empty. Most of the textbooks for [Y/N]'s year have gone completely sold out; according to the very frazzled manager, there had been an issue with the publishing house, hence they were short a good hundred textbooks or so for each subject. This meant that at least a hundred Hogwarts students were going to have to use a secondhand textbook or two during the school year.

And [Y/N] is not going to be one of them.

Feeling only a tiny bit guilty, she tucks the textbook under her arm, offers the strangely familiar-looking boy a half-assed apologetic smile, and resumes her shopping for textbooks. Weaving through the crowd of customers without even having to look up from the piece of parchment she clutches in her hands, she surveys her shopping list:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage Confronting the Faceless A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch Flesh-Eating Trees of the World Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen

Two textbooks left to go. So far she's been lucky enough to get most of them without much trouble despite the shortage of books (unless she counts the awkward encounter with that boy back there). She mutters occasional "excuse me"s as she slinks past other customers on her way to the Herbology section of the bookshop in search of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World.

There are only three other people in the Herbology aisle—an old witch mumbling something to herself about leaping toadstools, a little witch no more than age five surveying a book titled "Devil's Snare and Its Devilish Secrets", and—

It's the same strangely familiar boy from before. The one [Y/N] stole very reasonably took the last copy of Advanced Potion-Making from. (She had gotten there first.) But he's standing all the way at the end of the aisle, and she's standing on the opposite end.

Judging by the fact that he seems to be her age and goes to Hogwarts (which would explain that sense of vague recognition she gets when she look at him), he's here for the same book that she is.

It's more of an assumption than anything, but her legs kick into action nonetheless and she starts speed-walking towards the shelf that holds Flesh-Eating Trees of the World. But the boy seems to have the same incentive as she does, and at a pace much quicker than hers courtesy of his annoyingly long legs, he reaches the shelf first.

Her entire world seems to slow down. Before she knows it, she's standing two feet away from him—and he has the last copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World clutched in his hands.

"Sorry," the boy says with a flicker of mischief in his tone, smiling smugly as he holds up the book in a manner one can only describe as ostentatious. "I got here first."

She blinks, watching as he nods at her before turning and disappearing into a different aisle.

Great—now she has to use an old Herbology book this year and hope that she doesn't get one that's been thrown up on or jinxed to bite her hands every time she opens it.

She scoffs to herself, shaking her head in disbelief as she looks around in search of someone to share her incredulity with, maybe say "Did you hear that? Absolutely unbelievable" as a means of ranting. But the old lady and the five-year-old witch are hardly fit for such conversation, so instead [Y/N] huffs to herself and goes to look for her last textbook.

She walks faster than usual on her way to the Ancient Runes aisle, still reeling a little bit from the ridiculous situation that had just unfolded moments before and cost her her Herbology book. When she catches sight of the shelf she's supposed to find Advanced Rune Translation in, much to her delight, there is only one book left on the shelf. Hers.

But when she makes a move towards it, a certain someone rushes past her. It's that boy again.

Oh no, he's not—

His outstretched arm reaches out for the last copy of Advanced Rune Translation, and her instincts kick in—she grabs the book before he can, but he has latched onto it too.

Eyebrows furrowing, she tugs the book towards her. He tugs it back to him.

"I'm sorry," she says, keeping her voice level as she stares up at him, forcing a friendly smile. "I need this book."

His nose wrinkles before he smiles back at her—that same look of obviously insincere friendliness. "Sorry," he replies, lips curling, "I need it too," he tugs the book in his direction.

With gritted teeth, she grips onto her side of the book persistently. "I need it more," she insists, the smile on her face slowly fading.

"I don't see how you can be the judge of that," he fumes, his smile drooping into a scowl.

"I got here first—"

"No, you did not—"

The both of them have completely dropped all pretense of friendliness, now full-on scowling at each other as they stubbornly engage in an intense tugging match for Advanced Rune Translation.

"Fine!" she exclaims, letting go of the book as she takes a step back, frustration bubbling in her chest. "Fine. Merlin. Have it, then, if you want it so bloody badly."

The boy grins in triumph, looking much too pleased with himself. "Correction: I needed it."

"Yeah, whatever," she grumbles, glowering at him. And then, in a much lower tone, "Prat."

The smirk on his face drops. "Excuse me?"

"Hm?" she hums, glancing at him innocently. "Oh, nothing. You have a good day."

Spinning on her heel, she makes her way to the cashier, still seething as she dumps her very incomplete set of books on the counter. What a prat.

—

[Y/N] steps out of Flourish and Blotts onto the busy street of Diagon Alley. A bell chimes as the door to the bookshop closes behind her, but the sound is lost amidst the sounds of conversation coming from busy shoppers passing by.

Sighing, she purses her lips and checks her school supply list. She has everything—everything but two particular books that were unjustly stolen from her by a strangely familiar pain in the arse—

Okay, you know what? What she needs right now is to cool down—and what better way to do that than to get ice cream?

A few minutes later, she finds herself in Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, sitting on a little table lined along the windows with a triple chocolate ice cream cone clutched in her hands. She tries not to look too sulky, but memories of that boy from the bookshop linger in her head that have her feeling irritated.

She's been staring out of the large glass windows for quite some time that her eyes have gone out of focus, so it takes her brain a while to register the fact that there's a boy standing right in front of the window, looking straight at her.

But it's not just a boy—no, this is the boy. The prat, [Y/N] has decided to call him inside her head.

She glares back at him. Annoyingly enough, he grins at her and raises his hand in a wave. What he does next has her gripping her ice cream cone so hard she's surprised it doesn't break, because the prat pulls out a book from his bag and waves it at her.

Written along the cover of the book are the words "Advanced Rune Translation".

Before [Y/N] can raise her hand and give him the middle finger, he averts his gaze and walks right into Florean Fortescue's.

She watches as he strides to her table before plopping down into the seat opposite her, setting the textbook down on the table. Her eyes flit to it before she looks up at him. If looks could kill, the prat would already be in the afterlife.

"Can I help you?" she asks, not bothering to hide the scorn in her tone. But just because she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, she puts on a forced, sarcastic smile.

The prat grins. He crosses his arms, and whilst leaning forward in his seat, asks, "I suppose you go to Hogwarts?"

She regards him with a deathly stare. "Yes," she says, and then slowly, she repeats, "Can I help you?"

He ignores her question. "What house?"

Scoffing, she replies, "Ravenclaw."

"Aw, I was hoping you were in Gryffindor—but that wouldn't make sense because I'd be friends with you by now if you were."

She gives him an unimpressed glance. "Sure. Friends."

He raises his eyebrows, the impish grin on his face widening. In a flirtatious tone, he asks, "Were you hoping to be something more than friends?"

Her eyes widen and she scoffs again in disbelief. "Oh, Merlin," she says, shaking her head as she forces out a few breathless laughs out of frustration. "You are something else. Really."

The prat grins and leans back on his chair. "I'm James Potter. And you are?"

"Very annoyed," she takes an angry bite out of her ice cream cone.

Amused, he slides the book towards her on the table. "Because of this?"

"Because of a certain prat, to be more specific," she takes another bite of cone, chewing much too fast out of anger as she glares at him. "His name's James Potter—you might have heard of him."

The prat—James Potter—laughs. Actually laughs; a genuine sound of amusement. A look of feigned wonder comes across his face as he strokes his chin. "Why, yes, the name does seem familiar. Mind describing him for me?"

She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she plays along. "He's tall. Looks like a tree."

"Interesting comparison."

"Black hair that strongly resembles a bird's nest—wow, he really does look like a tree."

He scoffs.

A tiny smirk tugs at the edges of her lips as she keeps going. "He's in Gryffindor, too, so that explains why he's such a prat."

He clutches his chest as though in pain. "Ouch."

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Silly me," she simpers, and then fixes him with a stony gaze. "He stole two of my textbooks."

James lets out an incredulous laugh. "Stole?" he repeats, shaking his head. "I got to the Herbology book first; it's only right that I took it. As for this one—" he taps the textbook on the table, "Technically, you gave this up."

She presses her lips together. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He stares at her for a moment, mouth open as though to say something and his brows furrowed, and then he shakes his head and lets out a long breath. "You're lucky I find you pretty."

She narrows her eyes at him, ignoring the one—just one—butterfly that has been let loose inside her stomach at being called pretty by an annoying book-thief that a tiny, tiny part of her finds mildly attractive. Because he is a bit of a looker—she has to admit.

James Potter taps the book on the table and grins at her. "What if I decide to give this to you?"

"Bless your kind soul."

He laughs again. "No—really. What do I get in return?"

[Y/N] stares at him, trying to figure out whether he's being serious or not. Her lips bunch up to one side as she ponders her response.

"A name, perhaps?" James suggests, his eyes glinting.

She raises her eyebrows at him. "You want to trade a book for my name?"

He shrugs, drumming his fingers on the book cover. "Maybe. Yes."

"A book that you paid money for?" [Y/N] asks dubiously.

His bottom lip juts out as he contemplates his answer. Then he shrugs again, nodding. "Yes."

"Then you should've asked earlier!" she exclaims, sitting up straight and holding your hand out. "I'm [Y/F/N]."

James Potter lets out an amused sound, feeling something akin to fondness pluck at his heartstrings. He mimics the way she sat up straight, although his version is a little exaggerated—he quickly sits up, back rigid like a soldier being called to attention in a clear attempt to mock her. She gives the prat—James—a warning look; he grins at her.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, [Y/N]," he grips her hand firmly in his and gives it a shake.

Her lips tugging up involuntarily, she replies, "And yours."

Both of them drop their hands back to their sides at the same time as though afraid to hang on for longer than necessary. "So I suppose this is mine now?" she says, reaching out for the textbook.

James sighs heavily, shoulders slumping as he stares at the book with a dramatic, longing gaze. "I suppose so."

Hands hovering over the cover, she looks at him for confirmation. "You sure?"

He wipes a fake tear from his eye and nods. Rolling her eyes, she tries to hold back a laugh. "Alright. Okay. Um," she slides the book slowly towards her as if waiting for him to change his mind, but he doesn't. "Thanks.. um.. James."

He drops his dramatic act of despair and beams at her, crossing his arms as he props his elbows on the table. "You're very welcome, [Y/N]. Like I said—you're lucky I find you pretty."

She rolls her eyes, ignoring the warmth spreading across her cheeks. "Quite the flirt, aren't you?"

James shrugs. "Just being honest."

She gapes at him, at a momentary loss for words. And then she looks away, cheek twitching with a threat of a smile as she lets out a heavy exhale. "You really are something else," she mutters.

"Only for you, love," James grins. His eyes dart to the watch on his wrist, and his grin falters as he glances back up at her. "As much as I want to sit here and stare at you all day—"

"Annoy me, you mean."

James continues on smoothly like he hadn't heard her. "Unfortunately, I've got to go. I promised a friend I'd meet with him somewhere—his name's Remus, I'll introduce the both of you someday but hopefully he doesn't fawn over you too much. You've got the brains and the looks, after all."

She flicks her eyebrows up at him.

"Alright, well," James huffs, getting up from his seat. "I've really got to go—I'm already ten minutes late. I'll see you around Hogwarts, [Y/N]. Oh, and your ice cream's melting—I thought you ought to know."

With one final wink, James Potter backs away, keeping his gaze fixed on her as he goes. Just before he leaves the ice cream parlor, he gives her a mock curtsy, smiling, and then disappears into the crowd of people outside.

Feeling oddly breathless, [Y/N] blinks herself out of her reverie and then looks down at her ice cream. James was right—it is melting.

Couldn't he have said that earlier?

With a strange little smile on her face, [Y/N] finishes up the rest of her ice cream. And when she leaves Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour a few minutes later, there's a bounce in her step and a weird, fluttery feeling in her chest.

[babycharmander]

A list of interesting canon details from sources other than the movie

I’m the kind of person who tends to obsess over small details on things I like, and with some of my fandoms I make an effort to seek out every tiny detail I can, whether it’s something the writers said, something found in a book, etc. And Coco is one of the fandoms I do this for!

Since not everyone likes to dig for details themselves and some people don’t even have access to all the different parts of canon, I figured I’d compile a (non-exhaustive) list of neat details that come from various canon sources. I’ll follow each of these up with the source.

Here we go!

Héctor’s favorite food is chapulines (Book: A Surprise for Héctor)

Post-movie, Miguel uses Dante and Pepita to send letters back and forth to his dead family (Book: A Surprise for Héctor)

Héctor was born in 1900 and died in 1921, and was 21 years old when he died (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Imelda was born in 1899 and died sometime in her 70s (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Ernesto was born in 1896 (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Coco was born sometime between 1917-1918 and thus died when she was about 100 years old (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Miguel made his first guitar by repairing a broken one that a musician had thrown away (Book: Miguel and the Grand Harmony)

Coco’s favorite thing is dancing. After the music ban, she danced in secret, and only gave it up when she accidentally injured herself and frightened her daughters (Book: A Story About Music, Shoes, and Family)

The dead Riveras live in a very large house with room enough for Pepita to enter (Book: The Secret Recipe)

Héctor and Ernesto grew up together and had a close relationship like cousins or brothers (Book: A Story About Music, Shoes, and Family; Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Héctor was murdered in Mexico City (Book: A Story about Music, Shoes, and Family)

Miguel raised Dante from when he was a puppy (Book: Friends for Life)

The name of the place where the nearly-forgotten live is Shantytown (Book: A Story About Music, Shoes, and Family; Game: Disney Magic Kingdoms)

Though Héctor no longer lives in Shantytown post-movie, he brings many of his offerings to the people there (Game: Disney Magic Kingdoms)

Héctor’s guitar was a gift from Imelda (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Though Imelda stopped making dance shoes after discovering Coco was dancing behind her back, she resumed making them in the afterlife, and filled orders for Ceci (Book: A Story About Music, Shoes, and Family)

Héctor’s birthday is November 30th (Gael Garcia Bernal’s twitter)

(And, while there’s no source explicitly stating this, we can logically deduce that Héctor died between Nov. 30th and Dec 31st, 1921)

(Also using logic, he was separated from his family for 96 years)

The twins died simultaneously (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Héctor wrote music as a child, often staying up late to work on songs (Book: Miguel and the Grand Harmony)

Héctor and Imelda perform concerts together post-movie (Book: A Surprise for Héctor)

Miguel never told most of his family about what happened on Dia de Muertos, but he made a book about it to give to Socorro when she was older (Book: I Love My Family!)

Imelda and Héctor met in Santa Cecilia when both were young (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Héctor has had writer’s block since his death, and only managed to start writing again post-movie (Game: Disney Magic Kingdoms)

Ernesto slept around a lot (NPR interview with Lee Unkrich)

Victoria and Rosita played around with video equipment in the arts district when they were searching for Miguel, which is why they know how to use it in the climax (Book: A Story about Music, Shoes, and Family)

Héctor used many schemes to try to cross the bridge, including dressing as an alebrije (and being caught due to leaving hand/footprints in glowing paint), dressing as Diego Rivera (and being caught because stuffing kept falling out of the holes in his clothing), and hiding himself in a raspa cart (and being caught because he was shivering so badly his bones rattling could be heard outside the cart) (Book: A Story about Music, Shoes, and Family)

The suits Héctor and Ernesto wear in the flashbacks are rusty orange (Lee Unkrich’s twitter)

Coco secretly sang to Miguel when he was a baby (Book: A Story about Music, Shoes, and Family)

Miguel’s hideaway was originally Coco’s hideaway, and she hid a lot of the twins’ failed shoe experiments there (Book: A Story about Music, Shoes, and Family)

Poco Loco was written for Imelda, but Héctor thinks of Coco when he sings it in the movie (Lee Unkrich’s twitter; Book: A Story about Music, Shoes, and Family)

I could go into more details but I need to work on other stuff right now @__@; If anyone wants to add to this list, be my guest! Just add a source for anything you add here.

[dex-xe]

I've made Spotify playlists inspired by each of the ghosts and I've made these little written pieces to talk about them. if you wanna read them, please go ahead - if not then enjoy the music!!

This is Robin's playlist:

Somebody Told Me - The Killers

Robin is a stadium rock kinda guy, I guarantee you that. I’ve said this before multiple times but I love the idea of Alison trying to find music for all the ghosts that she things they’d like and he’d totally like music where he could watch gigs and festivals of people just going mental and jumping about. (I have actually written a fic here about Robin having watched stadium rock so yeah, go read that if you’d like!)

Starman - David Bowie

I feel like this is obvious cause space boy but also I interpret the song as being about the idea of accepting change. The Starman sits above Earth and knows things that “will blow our minds”, they understand more than humans do or ever could know much like Robin who has seen more than can be imagined and is wise beyond his time.

The Universal - Blur

This song encapsulates the two primary things I drew from in making Robin’s playlist which are space and the passage of time. But yeah, it’s kinda a sci-fi-esque song that I think is quite fitting. I’ve also seen a lot of discusison about how it’s a commentary on the downfall of society under the epidemic of believing everything you read which is like conspiracy theory Robin talking about the moon landing not happening and the Earth being flat.

Space Oddity - David Bowie

Just the image of Robin as a spaceman makes me happy, I saw some fanart of the ghosts in the outfits they described at clothes club and the one of Robin was so good!! (They are all great but that one in particular is super cute). If I can find it then I’ll link it here.

Spaceman - The Killers

Again, space vibes. Not writing much for this one because it’s self explanatory but also I’m writing this while listening the playlist through and I’m still searching for the fanart from the previous song XD

Run Boy Run - Woodkid

(Found the art) That scene where Robin is running through the woods to fetch Barclay in BitN always reminds me of this song because of like the fast pace and the way it would nicely meld with his like stompy running through the woods.

Starlight - Muse

Actually not chosen for the space theme (although it helps). Basically just the idea of being so far away from those you love, I feel like it goes so underappreciated that Robin is not a few centuries or even just a handful of deacdes away from his life like all the others but he is literally MILLENIA from his family and community. He must miss them so much, I think the whole “everything comes, everything go, but moonah always there” (not a quote cause I only have until the song finishes and can’t to search for the correct line) really indicates just how lonely he must be after literally thousands of year. He spent ~40,000 alone before even Humphrey turned up???

Carry Me Home - The Killers

See above answer but add in the idea of not really belonging where you are, like I said he’s 1000s of years older than anyone else and is way more out of his time than anyone else.

Dark Side - Blind Channel

This would obviously be one of his favourites from this years Eurovision so I had to include it, again I just think he’d really like energetic music so I think it’s a good call.

Baby You’re a Haunted House - Gerard Way

I wanted to include this song in someone’s playlist because, well it’s obvious, but I think it’s a pretty decent song. But yeah, I settled on Robin because of the lyrics focussing on like having to be happy and positive in love while dealing with trauma and inner demons and stuff and I think that’s potentially very Robin cause of the fact he’s been at the house for years and watched everything come and go. He’s positive and upbeat despite the obvious trauma he’s experienced.

Love Illumination - Franz Ferdinand

Basically thought to be about the idea that destruction and boredom is all around us so we look towards things that make us happy and spark love to distract from that. (According to Wikipedia) Alex Kapranos said that he would look to the bright lights of Blackpool for that love - the idea of light and illumination being important to Robin’s distraction and boredom-aliviation in the afterlife.

The Whole of the Moon - The Waterboys

Space boy space boy space boy. Kinda about the idea of somebody seeing and understanding more than others… obvious but yeah I really like the song and am very fixated on Robin’s process of growing into a world that is so unnatural to him but picking up on modern ideas through his time.

Ghosting - Mother Mother

I felt the need to include this for someone so after much debate settled on Robin cause he’s been there for so long and it’s just a nice vibe for him.

Kidz - Take That

I know this is about protest and uprising etc but I think the idea of questioning authority and the very concept of reality and looking to turn things upside down fits nicely with Robin’s loves of conspiracy theories and his unwillingness to accept things straight off but instead question everything he sees.

Cities In Dust - Siouxsie and the Banshees

This is one of my favourite Siouxsie songs: it’s about the destruction of Pompeii and I again think that’s very Robin because, like I said, he’s experienced the destruction of everything around him. Obviously on a completely different level to the fall of Pompeii and over a long period of time but everything he once knew lies in dust but he can’t escape what the world is like now.

Teenage Kicks - The Undertones

It’s just a punk anthem and just a classic, you know?? I have no further explanation but I dare you to tell me this is not a Robin song XD

Across The Universe - The Beatles

It’s not particularly about space or the universe but the vibe is good and the line “nothing’s gonna change my world” is open to my interpretation as being like holding on to the past while watching things outside your control change.

Fly Me to the Moon - Joytastic Sarah & YungRhythm

This is an obvious choice, clearly, but I wanted to include this version because it’s more modern and more representative of Robin’s acceptance of the new world and new ideas.

20th Century Boy - T. Rex

The meaning of this song are very much up for debate, I’ve never been able to interpret it I don’t think. But it just gave me Robin vibes, maybe it’s because of the modern pop culture references which make me think of someone kinda out of their time picking up modern ideas and kind of regurgitating it - much like Robin’s instant believing of conspiracy theories etc.

Apeman - The Kinks

Obvious but yeah, caveman. Kinda nostalgic for simpler times as it lists like tons of things that are shit about todays world (nuclear war, inflation, over population) and how much easier it would be to live in a society without those things - things Robin has grown up into rather unnaturally.

[hayden-thefuck-whywouldyoudothis]

The Inevitable

Hello wonderful people! This is going to be my first ever fanfic that I am posting anywhere, so please be nice. I would appreciate feedback, and I think that if it does well here I’ll post it n Ao3. 

I came up with this fic idea a little while back, and I’ve been writing it since 03/13/21. Basically the idea is that while Tommy was in the afterlife, he met characters who died during Tales From The SMP episodes that took place in the past. They told him their stories, and Tommy connected the dots. He goes to confront Karl in Kinoko Kingdom.

This story includes a headcanon that is not mine. I read a fanfic with the mute!Karl headcanon. The story was an absolute banger. If you want to hear a little more about that go read their story Come Home With Me by icaruswontmelt on Ao3

Story starts under the cut .

The Inevitable, by BangHaydenCoven

Death was the one thing that had always been truly eternal. When Wilbur came back as Ghostbur, it had seemed like death maybe wasn’t completely permanent because Wilbur was back. But he hadn’t been brought back to life. He was a ghost, a shell of the person he had been before everything went to shit. Tommy had truly thought that death was the one thing that stayed constant on this god-forsaken server. Being beaten to death and brought back by the person who hurt you so deeply puts a lot of things that were just beyond reach of perfectly understandable, into perspective. In the amount of time that had gone by while Tommy’s life actually went to hell and back, everything had changed. Tubbo had gotten married of all things, He had a kid. And a new best friend as well, apparently. There was, for the first time in a long time, a semblance of peace between all of the factions. Peace smashed, the moment he had been let out of the prison. No one looked at him the same way anymore. No one looked at him like the kid he was. The kid he was supposed to be. All they saw was an anomaly. Not a real, live, breathing person who has feelings and needs validation, just like other people. Proof of something that never should have been real. 

Since declaring that Dream had to die, Tommy had holed himself up in his little house dirt mound of a house. When he finally got over the initial panic, the firsthand terror of forcing himself to think about the time he had spent dead, he allowed himself to do it freely. Puffy had told him it was good to think back on the trauma. He wasn’t sure just how much he could trust that ideology, but it seemed to work for the most part. Tommy had spent the majority of his time in the afterlife with the people he had known when he was alive.  Wilbur, Schlatt, Mexican Dream. It had been pretty simple. They spent a lot of time playing card games, for some reason. But one day, a fight had sparked between Tommy and Schlatt, causing the younger to storm off into the distance. He had been fuming that day. It hadn’t even been a fight that made sense. Schlatt had thrown some baseless accusations his way, and Tommy had just given up. He needed a break. So he walked away. 

He walked.

And he walked.

And he walked.

And he walked.

And he stopped.

Looming over him was a building that was like nothing Tommy had ever seen. It was old, dusty, and cold. It belonged in the afterlife, to put it simply. It fit. It was a simple embodiment. Then, laughter filled the air. Frightening, drunk laughter that was cold but inviting. Tommy followed the spine-chilling noise into the building where he found four people. Three were dressed like they were from the Wild West. Cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and simple revolvers at their hips. The fourth was also clearly from the same time period, put was dressed simply. When he walked into the building, they just stared at him. Cold, level stares that made him feel like he would rather die all over again then be stuck under those gazes for the rest of eternity. But suddenly the looks of the people softened as they beckoned him over, introducing themselves as Connor, Mason, and Jack Kanoff. They were group of bandits called the Democrat Haters, and a simple bartender named John John. They told him their story, to put it simply. They told him how they died.

That was only the beginning.

Tommy wandered for a week straight, meeting people, hearing their stories. He met higher members of society who attended a masquerade only to die brutal deaths at the hands of a possessed butler, the members of a village with a crazed murderer that didn’t know haw to stop, that killed people brutally, among many others. And every single story Tommy heard had a one thing in common. There was always one man, in every story, who appeared out of no where, wearing colourful clothing and iridescent goggles perched on his head. He didn’t always use the same name, but he was always there, no matter when it had happened. As Tommy moved around his home to prepare, one thought rang true in his mind. 

Karl was getting a visitor tomorrow.

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Walking to Kinoko Kingdom had taken a lot longer than Tommy had originally thought and planned for. Not that the little settlement was close to the rest of the Greater SMP, but it wasn’t far either. Regardless of distance, it was still far too long of a walk for Tommy to be in a good mood when he arrived to find Sapnap of all people tending to the garden in Kinoko. Usually Tommy would have snuck up behind Sapnap and scared him to intentionally piss the older man off, but that was the old Tommy. The old Tommy had stayed dead. Instead, he announced his presence by kicking an acorn at the other mans head. There was a loud yelp, followed by a string of curses that matched the flowers in the garden with how colourful they were.

“George, I swear to god, if-” his sentence dropped of in a look of pure disbelief as he turned around, expecting to see his best friend that deserved a good scolding. A dead teenager was definitely different. And confusing. 

“Shit...” Sapnap mumbled, “Tommy?”

“Hello Sapnap. I must say its very nice to see you doing something other than killing pets. Or your fiances.” He smirks.

“Well it’s definitely you. The question is how. How are you alive?” he says as the shock on his face fades into confusion mixed with disbelief. Tommy freezes. 

“Only if your okay with it of course. Don’t answer if your not comfortable. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up. That was insensitive of me...” he trails off as he realizes Tommy seems less stressed at the fact that Sapnap isn’t going to make him talk about it.

“Sapnap,” Tommy started, “I need to talk to Karl. Like, right now.” 

“Alright,” said Sapnap, nodding slowly, “I’ll go get him. Stay right here.” As Tommy watched the other man walk away to retrieve one of his fiances, he really hopes that what he is about to accuse Karl of is wrong. Maybe one day they’ll laugh about this. Probably not.

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As Sapnap entered the house, looking for his fiances, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Tommy so urgently needed to talk to Karl about. Not finding his fiances on the first floor of their shared house, he went upstairs to continue his search, not wanting to keep the teen waiting for too long. As he opened the door to the throuples bedroom, he let out a small huff of affection when he saw his fiances, the loves of his life, asleep in their bed. Quackity had his arms around Karls waist, with his wings over both of them like a blanket, reflecting the golden light of the sun filtering through the window. Not wanting to disturb the scene in front of him, he let out a small sigh of annoyance as he forced himself to wake up Karl, and by extension Quackity.

“Theres someone here who wants to talk to you.” he muttered softly in Karls ear. 

“Who?” Karl signed sleepily.

“Tommy. It seems pretty important. He’s down in the garden.” Sapnap said a little louder, seeing that Q was now awake, so there was no reason to stay quiet.

“Alright.” He signed, “Let’s go.” as he got up, he tugged on Quackity’s sleeve lightly. “Are you coming, Q?”  He nodded and gave a small smile.

“Alright,” Sapnap said, pulling Quackity into a quick hug, and giving him a quick kiss on the temple, “Let’s go then.”

As they left the house and approached Tommy sitting at the picnic table in their back garden, they exchanged a small conversation in sign language.

“Is he okay?” said Quackity with some concern clear on his face, his movements slow and scuffed from sleep.

“He looks really tired.” Sapnap added.

“Q, could you run in and prepare some sandwiches and lemonade?” Signed Karl, “We’ll bring Tommy inside and we can all have lunch together while we talk.”

“Of course, my love.” Said Quackity, giving Karl a small kiss on the cheek before hurrying inside to prepare some lunch.

Turning to Tommy to thank him for waiting, he was met with a face of absolute, genuine confusion. As Tommy stared at their hands, then looked back over to Karl, his face quickly changed to a look of understanding.

“I forgot,” he said as he stood up sheepishly, “that Karl was mute.”

“That’s okay Tommy.” Karl cut in before Sapnap could say anything, “I know you’ve been through a lot recently. It’s okay to forget things from time to time. I should know.” Karl signed slowly so that Tommy could keep up with his rusty remembrance of sign language, adding a small smile at the end of his sentence. 

“Thank you Karl.” Tommy said with a sigh of relief.

“Would you like to come inside and have lunch with us? I know you have something to talk to me about, but you look hungry. We could talk right after though. How does that sound?” Karl signed with a smile on his face.

“That sounds great.” Tommy said after a beat of hesitation.

“Perfect,” said Sapnap, “let’s head inside. Q is making some sandwiches.” They all headed inside, one dreading the talk that would come after, the other two wondering what could possibly be so important to cause Tommy to come all the way out to Kinoko Kingdom to talk to Karl.

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Tommy and Sapnap sat down at the table in the dining room as Karl went into the kitchen to help Quackity. Usually it would be all three of the in the kitchen, making food and having a good time, but Sapnap needed to take advantage of the situation at hand. Since he hadn’t visited the main SMP in a while, Tommy gave him the rundown of the current and recent events he knew of. Nothing too bad, but Sapnap knows you can never be too careful. A few minutes later, Quackity and Karl emerge from the kitchen carrying some plates and the food. As they sit down and start to eat, Sapnap and Quackity make small talk that Karl contributes too every once in a while with some one handed movements, putting his sandwich down when it was necessary. But Tommy stayed quiet, which the fiances found quite odd. Clearly whatever the boy had been through recently, on top of all his other trauma, had really messed with him. The loud, boisterous teenager they had known before was gone, replaced with someone they didn’t recognize in the slightest. So Tommy stayed silent the entire time, not noticing the quick, worry filled glances the trio sent his way every so often.

Soon enough, they had all finished eating. They were sitting in the fiances’ living room together, Tommy on one couch, the tree of them on the other. The room sat in an awkward silence as Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap waited for Tommy to talk to them, and as Tommy decided what to say.

After a moment, Tommy said, “Are you sure you want them here for this?” Karl’s eyes widened at how blatant he had been.

“Of course I want them here.” He signed quickly, “They are the people who matter most to me. Whatever you need to say to me you can say to all three of us.” Sapnap and Quackity nodded, not wanting to disrupt anything.

“Alright,” Tommy sighed, “Where should I start...” Karl’s hands stayed firmly in his lap to give Tommy a moment to think. “Well, I guess I’m just going to say what I came here to say, and pray to Prime that I’m wrong.” Karl nodded, once, slowly. Tommy took a deep breath before opening his mouth and saying...

“Your a time traveler, aren’t you?”

Silence.

And then laughter

All he could hear was laughter.

Sapnap and Big Q were laughing. 

Karl was not.

Karl was not.

Karl wasn’t laughing.

The look on his face was not one of someone who had just been accused of some laughable fallacy.

A fantasy, really.

Sapnap and Quackity had stopped laughing.

They seemed to have come to the same conclusion that Tommy had.

“Karlos?” Quackity started, “There is no possible way...” he stopped, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

“Tell me that he’s lying Karl.” said Sapnap. “Please.” Karl’s hands started to move, making aborted and scuffed movements as he tried to figure out what to say.

 “No,” He finally settled on, “he’s right. I’m a time traveler.” Sapnap started crying at this, and Quackity gave him a hug as he buried his face into his fiances neck. Karl looked completely torn. He clearly wanted to comfort his fiances, but he knew he shouldn’t while Tommy was still here. But he also didn’t know if he could. Karl didn’t know if he was even still allowed to comfort them after keeping this big of a secret from them, and for so long. Karl started signing again, this time with clear urgency behind each movement.

“Two things, and then I need you to leave. Understood?”

“Of course,” said Tommy, “I will leave immediately.” Karl nodded.

“Thank you. First things first,” he signed, “how did you know?” Tommy sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about this. But Karl deserved to hear the truth.

“When I died, I was in the afterlife for a little while,” Tommy said softly, “One day I walked away from the people I knew in the afterlife, Schlatt, Wilbur, and Mexican Dream. I walked for so long I came across a building I had never seen before, and when I went in I met a group of people from the Wild West.” Karl’s eyes had gone wide.

“You met Jack and Mason and Connor?” he signed.

“Yeah, and John John as well. They told me what happened the day they died, and they mentioned you. Not directly, but they mentioned a man that had showed up out of nowhere wearing bright colours and iridescent goggles.” Karl looked wistful, remembering his time sent in the Wild West, even if it hadn’t been an exceptionally fun trip at the time. Tommy continued. “I also met the people who visited the masquerade, same story. But this time they mentioned your name. And lastly I met the townfolk of the Village that went Mad. Same story, but no name once again. I just connected the dots.” Tommy fell silent, waiting for Karl to tell him something. Sometime during his revelations, Sapnap and Quackity had left the room to comfort each other. Karl clearly wanted to tell them he was sorry, but he couldn’t do that until Tommy had left. Turning back to the teen, he started signing once more.

“Thank you for telling me, Tommy. I just have one thing to ask of you, then you can leave.” Tommy nodded his head, and Karl continued, “You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone what you know. It would put everyone in grave danger. Is that clear?”

“Of course. I won’t tell a soul.” Karl gave him a small smile. “Now I think you should go talk to your fiances.”

“I will,” he signed, leading Tommy to the front door, “Goodbye, Tommy. Have a good trip back.”

“Goodbye, Karl.”

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As he walked towards the door of their shared bedroom, he could barely hold himself back from running to the room to comfort them. But Karl couldn’t be sure that they would ever be the same again. It broke him to think that, but he had lied to them, for a long time. They probably hated him.

He stopped outside of the door, hearing faint sounds of crying on the other side of the door. He slowly opened the door to see Quackity and Sapnap cuddled up together against the headboard of their bed, with all of the lights out. Sapnap was asleep against Quackitys chest, tear tracks all over his face. Q wasn’t much better.

“Hey Karl.” Quackity said softly, sniffling a little.

“Hi.” he signed back, gong to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m so sorry.” he signed after a beat of silence. “I have no excuses. I just wanted both of you to be safe from it.”

“But... what is it, Karl? Why couldn’t you tell us? Are these the trips you’ve been going on? Does it have something to do with your memory problems?” Quackity rambled, question after question. He cut off when he realized how tense Karl looked. “...sorry.” he said, lowering his voice once more.

“Woah, Q, it’s okay. But I can only answer one question at a time.” Quackity nodded. “It is the In-Between,” he started, making the ASL sign for between, then spelling it out, “I don’t actually know what it is, but I managed to get away from it recently. It was stopping me from telling you about my time traveling. It told me that telling you guys would put you guys in grave danger. I couldn’t let that happen. So I kept it a secret.” He stopped, hands dropping when he couldn’t figure out where to go from there. Quackity opened his mouth, about to ask a question, when he felt Sapnap stir at his side. 

“Hey babe.” Quackity said, Sapnap just let out a little huff. “Sap, do you feel up to talking right now?”

“...yeah...is he here?” he mumbled, voice heavy and slurred with sleep. 

“He is.” Quackity answered. Sapnap looked up at him, then looked over to Karl.

“Hi Sap.” he signed, not making eye contact. “I want to apologize to both of you. For not telling you. There really is no valid excuse that I have. The In-Between was crazy. I just wanted to keep both of you safe.”

“What is the In-Between?” Sapnap asked. Before Karl could answer, Quackity cut in.

“He doesn’t know, Sap.” he whispered. 

Sapnap continued, “I want you to tell us the whole story. Please?” Karl looked conflicted.

“Alright.” he signed, “I’ll start at the beginning.” So he did. He told them the whole story. By the time he had finished, all three had tears running down their face. “Do you understand now?” Karl wiped his eyes before continuing, “It wasn’t safe to tell you.” Sapnap nodded, eyes red and puffy from crying.

“You need to stop traveling Karl. Me and Sapnap wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if you forgot everything.” said Quackity, pulling Sapnap even closer. Karl sighed.

“I can’t control the traveling. I don’t know if it will ever stop. All I need right now is you two. If I hadn’t wanted to get home to you guys so desperately, I would have forgotten long ago.” Karl got up and grabbed his journal. “Fill it.” he signed, after he gave it to his two fiances, “fill it with everything I need to remember. And when I come back each time, help me remember. Please.” Sapnap looked up at him, then glanced at Quackity, coming to a silent agreement. They would do anything to keep Karl with them.

“Of course we will, mi amor.” said Quackity, opening his arms to invite Karl to come sit with them. Karl smiled, tears running down his face once again, crawling into their warm embrace. And as they sat there, holding each other close, Karl took each of heir hands, pressing his favourite symbol in ASL into their palms.

“I love you.”

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Thank you for reading!!! Once again, if you like this, leave a comment or something, idk. And make sure to go check out the story linked at the top of this post for more about the mute!Karl Jacobs hc.

Have an amazing day, wonderful people.

[ginazmemeoir]

so i was inspired by @h00man-bean and here you go with a fic about Kaz and Inej as the Devil and the Reaper.

tagging @h00man-bean @mango-pickle @carmen-riddle @the-fault-in-our-inquilab @momo-all-the-way @gopikanyari @aadyeah @reddish-green-personality @weird-u @holding-infinity-and-a-book @dragonfairy1231 @totallyforgotyouwerehere @a-dragon-under-the-stars @taareginn

I crash into consciousness. The sound of gurgling water and rustling leaves greets me as I stand up. Strange. The last time I was alive, I had arthritis and was confined to a wheelchair. All Nina could do was slow mine and Inej’s death. I remember the last breath I drew, the last thought I had, the last time I saw Inej smile. And then nothing. Just an empty void, just – not being anymore.

I look at myself, flex my toes. It appears as if death has returned my old skin back to me, but it still doesn’t look like mine. This one is clear as if it was tended to by a Grisha tailor daily, as if the man who bore it had never worked a day. I am wearing the suit I stole from Pekka Rollins, decorated with a genuine gold pin showing a crow with a lion’s head in its claws. My cane lies beside me along with my hat. Either I am in a coma and am dying a slow, painful death as many of my enemies wished, or I have woken from a dream and nothing that I know happened, never really happened. I would rather prefer the first. Then, I see Inej.

She stands there in her captain’s uniform, the teal coat Sturmhond gave her, coupled with breeches and boots. I bet her knives are still tucked there. Her skin, still the same gleaming bronze, is now wrinkle free. Her eyes are kohl rimmed, and her ink black hair spill onto her shoulders. She looks at me with confusion, her eyes searching. “Kaz?” she asks. I move toward her, and then run. Funny how a good leg is almost as useful as a grisha crafted cane.

I clasp her hands in mine, her breath caressing me. “Inej,” I whisper “What are we doing here?”

“You’re both dead actually.” says a voice behind me. I turn around to see a Fjerdan merchant approaching us. He wears a blood red coat with gold lapels. His blonde hair is slicked back, and he walks with the cool confidence of someone who just cracked a deal. The only thing differentiating him from a Kerch businessman that I once looted is that he’s surrounded by floating rocks. Inej immediately kneels beside me, and nudges me. “Sorry but I have a bad leg. Also I don’t bow to animated turkeys.” I say as I go and retrieve my cane and hat. The Fjerdan chuckles and replies in heavily accented Kerch, “I suspect that bad leg excuse is of any use to now, Kaz Brekker. Also, please get up Inej, you look extremely out of place bowing to me in a teal coat.” Inej gets up reluctantly, and when she does, she has… tears in her eyes?

“Sankt Demyan of the Rime, thank you for protecting me.” She says, and hands him one of her knives. “Ah. How poetic.” He says, and pockets the knife. That is when I realize that we, in fact are dead. And Inej’s saints, are in fact, real. Great. There goes my ten thousand kruge. Thankfully the rest of the Crows aren’t here or I would have ended up as quite literally, a bankrupt soul.

“How many times have I told you Demyan to let me welcome the visitors? You’re hardly a gracious host, let alone a good gambler,” says a Shu woman, as she walks in behind Demyan, along with a Suli girl. The Suli girl was surrounded by floating rocks as well. She looked at Inej, and smiled at her. “And now, I would like those gold buttons of yours.” Says the Shu woman.

Inej hastened to remove her own lapel, a dragon and a fox, when the woman stops her. “I’m not talking to you Wraith, I’m talking to Demyan. We had bet that Kaz Brekker would kick him in the balls when he first arrived. I however had gone for a scathing insult. So seems like I won.” She says, and takes the gold buttons that Demyan removed (albeit while grumbling) in her slender hands. “Sankta Yeryin of the Mill, and Sankta Marya of the Rock, I- it’s an honour to meet you.” says Inej, and proceeds to bow more times than she has apologized when she was alive. I am shocked to see the way these so called “saints” milk Inej’s “devotion”. She was the closest thing to a saint that people actually had down in the mortal realm, and I would rather have kicked Demyan in the balls than let Inej bow again. But I restrain myself for the sake of my jaan.

Inej gives two more knives to the women, and stands beside me. She looks like a ridiculous schoolgirl, all giddy as if she had met her favourite aunts, and I catch myself falling in love with her all over again as a dead soul. Demyan soon interrupts my thoughts with that sinuous high-pitched voice, and asks, “I see you’re unusually quite today Dirtyhands. What’s the matter?” “I’m sorry, it’s just I’m wrapping my head around the concept of not existing physically anymore. Also I’ve heard you carry your belongings with you to the afterlife, so where’s all my gold?” I reply. Yeryin chuckles, her slit eyes crinkling while Marya looks at me in disbelief. Her voice, booming like a mountain echo, repeats what she, and countless others back in the mortal world, including my wife, thought each day, “Have you no honour Kaz Brekker?” I just shrug and adjust my hat.

“Anyways, ah, back to the topic at hand.” says Demyan, as he walks towards a tree. No wait, the tree. It could easily be as tall as a mountain. Five springs gush forth from its roots, and a heart is suspended from thorns right in front of a tear in it. The heart with the thorns I remember from the most epic heist of my career, involving legends and the Ravkan monarchy. The tree I do not. Inej asks, “Mind me, O great Saint of the Dead, but could you please acquaint us with our surroundings?” Wow. That’s a lot of vocabulary from a woman whose last sentence, in my memories, is complaining how the medicine she gave me smelled like rat fart. “Oh yup that’s Djel. Or rather his ash tree. Quite popular with my countryfolk.” he says cheerfully. “And we’re here in a mountain in the Sikurzoi, in a different plane of existence. For you, are dead.” he continues, with that ridiculous smile of his. Marya then steps forward, her voice slightly less enthusiastic, giving me the feel that this is all probably quite rehearsed for a while now. “You are a long way from home my loves. Kaz Brekker, you died a natural death. Inej Ghafa, you also died a natural death. Both of you were a hundred and thirteen years old, with Inej dying within a year of your death. The form you have now, is the form you chose to be remembered as.” she says. Yeryin huffs past us, her robes billowing, and hands the buttons over to Demyan, raising up her hand to his face and showing a symbol that quite contradicts with the Saint of Hospitality. “I should have expected such from you, you merchant scum.” she says. She then turns to directly address us and says, “Enough introductions though. The real reason you’ve been brought here is for another reason entirely. You see, the souls of the dead…”

I roll my eyes as the Sankta prepares for another lecture about how our “feeble human brains can’t comprehend the world.” I regret having married Inej in this moment in the afterlife though. Dirtyhands would’ve conned them by now and found a way back to the mortal realm. Kaz Brekker on the other hand, sits on the grass like a five-year old listening a story. Inej sits beside me, her coat now lying beside her in a heap and her hair fluttering open. How I wish I could’ve seen her in the open sea like that.

“…are usually brought to the other sides of the tree.” Yeryin says, waving her hands in an elegant motion to summon up a throne made out of the river pebbles and rocks, confirming that the trio were all, in fact, Fabrikators. “There, they are all assessed in context with their deeds on earth. Everything that they’ve gone through, and everything they’ve done is all taken into account by the Saint of The Book.” She then points to a woman, invisible until this point, sitting near the tree. She bends over a desk, poring over a giant ledger and surrounded by thick books. Her thick blonde hair covered her face, her glasses perched on her wide nose, and her fair, plump skin flushed. “The three of us then decide their fate in the afterlife. Those, who we decide are ‘good’, enjoy the fruits of paradise for a while and then return to the making at the heart of this world. Those, who we deem ‘bad’, are impaled on the thorn wood until they are purged of their sins. They then bathe in one of Djel’s springs, and return back to merzost.”

“Yeah but why are you telling us all of this? We get it, we’re dead, so which way are we going?” I ask the Saints. Inej elbows me once again, scolding me with her eyes. I shrug, and stand up with my cane. “Unless you have something else to tell us, I would like to take your leave. Saints.” I start to walk, when I find myself tripping over. I right myself with my cane just in time, and see that my hands and feet are bound by vines, Demyan’s hands raised up. These saints want a taste of Dirtyhands? Fine. I will show them Dirtyhands.

I see Kaz’s demeanour change. He slips into the familiar garb of Dirtyhands, his eyes cold as flint, lips slightly pursed, standing like the King of the Barrel. I get into a fighting stance, my heavy coat no longer obstructing me. I feel the presence of my remaining knives, regretting handing over the rest. I respect my Saints, but nobody, and I repeat nobody, touches my husband and escapes alive.

Marya stands immovable, her eyes gazing at something in the distance. Yeryin clasps her hands, and states, “You came here at our wish Kaz Brekker. You leave with our wish as well. No need to reach for your knives Wraith they won’t serve you here.” I feel a tug inside me, as if someone is yanking on my leash. Before I know, I am pulled back, my breath knocked out of me, and I crash into a wooden chair. Kaz suffers a similar fate beside me, and I can see his anger barely in check. “Why are you doing this to us?” I ask Marya. She glances at me, her eyes tearful, and replies, “Because we’re tired Inej Ghafa. Because you’re now, the new gods of death.”

Great. We’re the subject of a cruel joke by the Saints and are being tortured for our sins. “We don’t want anything to do with you or your jobs. Just release us and march us over to the thorn wood, I’m ready to answer for my crimes.” “Oh you silly girl, we won’t kill our scapegoats, will we? Isn’t that right my fellow sisters?” Demyan says in his ridiculously cheerful manner. That smile takes me back to the West Stave, Heleen bartering over me with the slavers, her sinuous smile each time I resisted her. I eventually did track my slavers, although only Kaz knows of their fate, for he was the one who insisted on having them. Demyan then comes over to us, and the Saint of Death’s face becomes morose. He kneels in front of us, as if pleading with us, and says, “You see, we’re linked directly with humans and grisha. Death. Hospitality. Pathfinder. Our roles were fundamental to the balance of the world, to the smooth passage of souls and justice in the afterlife. However, seeing the Starless One return back to merzost, seeing Juris merge with the Dragonqueen, has made us realize that we thought impossible, was actually just – improbable. You would certainly know about that, wouldn’t you Dirtyhands?” Demyan glances at Kaz, his eyes moist, while Kaz looks at him unflinchingly. Weren’t the Saints destined to perform their duties? Then why are they looking for scapegoats? Demyan comes back to me, his tone rushed as he blurted out his plan. “We long to be free Inej Ghafa. We too long to return back from where we came. We too long to feel.” Yeryin and Marya then float over to us. “A Saint that dispenses justice, must have suffered injustice to be accurate in his judgements. He should be immovable, yet sensitive to the souls he receives. Kaz Brekker, you have shown us the resilience and fury of a Saint.” Yeryin says. Marya then glances at me, and begins, “Jaan, you’re one of my own people, and so I hold a special place for you. The Saint that is the Reaper, who brings over the souls of the dead, must kill without remorse. Must feel for each soul with all of her heart. She must be indiscriminate in her search.” “And you Inej Ghafa have shown us that heart.” Demyan finishes, clasping my hand. “The part is yours, should you keep it. However, remember, you must take it up with free will, for handling the deceased is a far more tedious and draining task than it sounds.”

I look back at Kaz. His eyes are focussed on the ground, his brain coming up with another wild scheme. I look at the Saints with disbelief. All this time, as I, as millions, prayed to them, honouring their martyrdoms with festivals and prayers, the Saints just longed to be human. Kaz finally speaks after what feels like an eternity. “I have a question. Are the Saints willing to answer that?” “But of course. That is the least we can do for you.” says Yeryin.

“You might’ve come across two souls in your eternal career. Jordie, and Pekka Rollins. What fate awaited them?” I ask hesitantly. I am both excited and afraid of the answer the saints hold for me. Marya looks at the Saint of the Book. She rises, and comes towards us, a small register in her hands. She hands it to Marya, and returns back, giving me a not-so subtle side look. Marya searches for the names I asked, clears her throat, and begins. “Pekka Rollins, the leader of the Dimes, a gang in the streets of Ketterdam, was impaled on the thorn wood. He was purged of all his sins, and then chose to return back to merzost. As for Jordie, your brother, he did not choose to stay for long.” I look back at Marya. “His soul… was tormented. Even though he was healed with the waters of Djel, even though we helped his soul discover his unknown gift as a Grisha Tidemaker, he kept searching this garden for you. In the end, he chose to take a single bite of Djel’s fruit, and returned back to merzost, finally at peace.”

Jordie’s fate stuns me into silence. Pekka Rollins snatched our life on Earth, but even in the gardens of paradise my brother kept searching for me. My vision blurs, my brother’s destiny opening a well of sadness in me, his peaceful return to merzost the only respite offered to him. This was the place where Jordie’s soul searched for me. Where he waited and waited for me, until he dissolved back into the heart of the world. And this is where I would choose to stay for eternity, the only place that holds my brother’s peace. I look at Marya, and nod.

Beside me, Inej grasps my hand, and smiles. She then looks down at Demyan, and says, “We will take up the mantel of your duties, O Revered Saints.” I roll my eyes. It’s as if Sturmhond’s vocabulary worms it’s way into Inej’s brain each time she talks to her saints.

The saints all look at each other, then smile and open their arms. “Our powers, are then yours, Wraith and Dirtyhands.” Golden rays, the colour of sundried wheat and barley emit from Yeryin. Ink black waves surge from Demyan while a shower of dirt erupts from Marya. The three slowly disappear, probably to a much better place. The knives Inej gave to them clatter on the ground.

Inej picks up her coat, dusts it off, and shrugs it on. She picks up her knives, touching them to her forehead, and wipes them on her sleeve. “So what do we now?” she asks me. “Well we’re here for eternity, alone, at least till you go off to bring our souls. Let’s have some fun.” I say and suggestively smirk. The Saint of the Book widens her eyes in horror as she looks at us. “Oh keep it in your pants, you perv.” I say, as I give a big shout and run towards the gentle slope along the riverbank, Inej’s soft padded boots following me, as we both tumble into each other and hurtle to the earth.

[minister-for-femslash]

The Lovers

Summary: After a close call, Beau and Yasha are forced to confront their feelings and have a long overdue conversation. 

Pairing: Beau/Yasha

Word Count: 7,061

Warnings: Character death (temporary) 

Yasha goes down first.

Two guards are on her, flanking her and as she deflects the first blow with the Magician's Judge, the second is thrust deep in her back.

Beau hears them laugh and turns just in time to see Yasha fall. She knocks back the guard she's been fighting with a quick kick to the chest and charges over. She swings her staff, high and wide, and cracks the guy that stabbed Yasha in the back of the head. He drops dead instantly. The other is already bringing his sword down to finish Yasha off and Beau almost doesn't get her staff up in time to deflect the blow.

She stands over Yasha. Positions herself defensively. Protecting her.

It's awkward.

Yasha's arms are splayed out. Beau can't quite get in the right place to take Patient Defence. The guard flies towards her, swinging his sword. The blade carves through her flesh. She takes more blows than she's expecting. Blood pours down her arms. It streaks across her fingers and her grip on her staff becomes slippy.

She's losing and Beau knows it. But that's okay. She just needs to hold him at bay. She just needs to protect Yasha long enough for Jester or Caduceus to deal with their own problems and throw out a quick healing spell. She can do that.

And then it all goes wrong.

The guard aims for her chest and Beau instinctively steps back. Her foot lands on the hilt of the Magician's Judge. She stumbles. It's all the opening the guard needs.

His blade slices through her throat.

Beau hears someone scream. She thinks it might be Jester and when a brightly coloured lollipop slams into the side of the guard's head, knocking him out, she's certain.

Beau's hands clamp down on her neck. Blood pours out. It's spills through her fingers, down her arms and seeps into her robes. She tries to speak, but nothing comes out but a gurgle and Beau knows, she just broke Dairon's cardinal rule; stay alive.

Her vision blurs and her knees buckles. She collapses down, landing on something soft instead of the cold, hard ground. Yasha. It's the last thought she has before the world fades to black.

-----

The ground feels wet beneath her cheek. There's music, it echoes around her; happy and bright, a song of invitation. Her eyes open and she sees grass, bright and green, and multiple pairs of feet moving past her.

Beau rolls onto her back. There's no pain, not in her chest and not in her throat, but she checks anyway. The wounds are gone, and so is the blood, her robes are now somehow pristine, like the day she first got them, there's no sign of sweat or dirt.

She sits up and checks the rest of her, and is surprised to find she's fine, better than fine in fact, not only have her wounds gone but so have her scars, some of them years, even decades old, including the one on her chest, the one that...

Yasha...

It hits her like a punch to the gut, the memory of the sword ripping through Yasha, and Beau quickly vaults to her feet. She spins round, desperately searching, but there's no sign of Yasha. No sign of Jester, or Caleb, or any of the others. She's not in the castle any more, she not in Rosohna any more. The sun is high, it shines bright and Beau can feel the heat on her skin. The sky is the brightest of blues and there are trees, tall with thick branches and bright green leaves.

In the distance is a large blue circus tent, with a little flag on top that seems to shimmer with a a type of ethereal glow.

More people move past her. They're happy, with large, and in Beau's opinion creepy – too much teeth – smiles on their faces. Some of them are running, one or two are even skipping their way towards the tent which suddenly looks eerily familiar, almost like Beau has seen it before.

The music gets louder and it's gentle harmony washes over her, wraps around her like a soft warm blanket and beckons her forward.

Beau walks towards the tent.

“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.”

The voice causes Beau to stop dead. A sharp chill runs through her and goosebumps rise on the back of her neck.

“Apparently they have a toad man who turns people into zombies.”

And now Beau remembers where she's seen that tent before. Trostenwald. The circus.

She turns and standing just a few feet behind her is a familiar purple tiefling. His red eyes shine bright, and the jewels and diamonds that adorn his horns and his fingers sparkle under the sunlight. He's missing his cloak and his swords, but his smile is exactly as she remembers it, large and just a little bit cocky.

“Hey Molly.”

“Hey.” A deck of tarot cards suddenly appears in his hand and he spins them nimbly between his fingers. “Fancy a reading?”

Beau frowns. “No thanks. You know I hate that crap.”

“You sure? It's an afterlife special, any question answered with complete and total honesty.”

“Afterlife? So I'm dead then?”

“Yeah, but you already knew that, and I don't think it's going to stick.” With a flick of his wrist a card jumps out of the deck and Molly catches it between his teeth.

Beau gives him a slow, sarcastic clap, Molly bows anyway and then holds the card out for her. Beau takes it with more than a little reluctance.

The background is bright yellow, a young man with blonde hair and a stick slung over his shoulder stands on a rocky shore as a wave crashes behind him. His hand is stretched out and in his palm rests a single white rose.

“I don't get it.”

“That's because you're not looking close enough.”

Beau sighs and brings the card closer. The image shimmers and changes, the blonde man transforming into a blue tiefling in a pretty yellow dress, the stick turning into a large serrated lollipop and the white rose becoming a diamond that Beau is certain is worth at least three hundred gold. The words at the bottom of the card read 'The Jester.'

“Revivification?”

“Told ya', it isn't going to last, so take your chance while you have.” Molly fans out the cards in front of her. “What do you want to know? Ask me anything?”

“Is Yasha okay?”

Molly hums, he clicks his fingers and another card jumps out of the desk. This one hangs in the air between them, slowly rotating. Beau can see that it's blank and she frowns. Molly, however, stares at it intently and with a click of his fingers the card sparks, flames shoot out, consuming it, devouring it and leaving behind nothing but ash and smoke that rises up towards the sky.

“Yasha is Yasha. But she's alive, I'll take that,” Molly says.

“Yeah, me too.”

“You did good, protecting her the way that you did. I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks. I just wish I could've done the same for you.”

“Oh that's... That's -” he gives a dismissive wave of his hand - “water under. It wasn't your fault.”

“You sure about that. 'Cause I was right fucking there and I couldn't do anything. I should've been faster or smarter or something. You shouldn't be dead.”

“Ah, but death is never the end. It's just the beginning of a different journey.”

Beau rolls her eyes. “Come on, are you really trying to sell me that bullshit cliché?”

“It might be a bullshit cliché, but it also happens to be the truth, which is nice for me.”

“So you're good?” Beau asks.

“As much as anybody can be, yes.”

Beau feels the overwhelming urge to hug him and so she does. Molly squeezes her tight, lifts her off her feet.

“I miss you,” Beau whispers.

“Of course you do. Who wouldn't?”

There's a loud crack and a roll of thunder, the sun fades and the sky turns grey. Lightening streaks across the sky. It hits the tent and it quickly bursts into flames.

“I think that's your exit,” Molly says.

Beau's body becomes heavy, her legs begin to shake as she struggles to stay on her feet. She looks at the cards in his hands and presses her lips together. She's tempted, incredibly tempted. She reaches for Molly and grabs his hand, and for a moment he's the only thing holding her up.

“Will I see you again?”

“I can practically guarantee it, just not anytime soon, I hope.”

“What if I don't want to go back?”

“Don't be ridiculous. She's waiting for you. Here. Take this -” he presses something into the palm of her hand - “she won't be able to tell you, so you'll have to tell her. Bye Beau.”

“Bye Molly.”

He lets go of the her hand and Beau drops. She closes her eyes as she hits the ground and then just falls right through. Falls, and falls, and falls.

-----

Beau gasps.

The air floods back into her lungs. Her heart suddenly kick starts, once again pounding in her chest, and a warmth slowly spreads through her.

Something is wrapped around her; large, muscular arms that seem to cradle her.

“Beau, Beau!” Jester's voice is high, panicked. “Be okay, Beau. Please. Please be okay.”

A hand grasps Beau's own and squeezes it tight, and she slowly opens her eyes. Her vision is blurry and she has to blink, once and then twice before it begins to clear. Jester leans over her, her face so close that Beau has to pull back. Jester's eyes are wide and Beau thinks she can see tear stains on her cheeks.

“Beau!”

“Hey.”

“You're alive again.” Jester throws herself forward and hugs Beau's waist.

“We were worried there for a minute, I thought I was going to have to find a new first mate,” Fjord says.

The Mighty Nein are crowded around her, each with their own look of concern.

“I'm okay, I'm good.” Beau tries to lift herself up and the world immediately starts to spin.

“I got you,” Yasha whispers in her ear.

Beau feels Yasha's arms tighten just slightly and she's pulled back down, being cradled once again, and Beau doesn't hate it. Her heart beat quickens, for just a second, there's this flutter. Yasha's grip is comfortingly strong. “We should go.” Yasha stands up and Beau is gently lifted into the air.

It's not the most ideal situation, but being carried by Yasha is definitely a good way to travel, so Beau doesn't complain and just rests her head against Yasha's chest. She's tired, exhausted even and her eyes close. When she opens them again, the first thing she sees is their tree with it's vibrant green leaves, perched on top of their roof. Yasha has carried her all the way back to the Xhorhouse and she missed it.

Veth rushes ahead and opens the door so that Yasha can carry her across the threshold, and then lay her down on the small sofa in living room, her feet hanging off the side. Jester quickly grabs a cushion and places it behind her head, before she sits on the floor next to her, her tail swishing from side to side.

“I was so worried, Beau,” she says. “You didn't come back right away, like Veth and Caduceus did. I thought it didn't work.”

“Yeah, sorry, I was...” Beau stops. She thinks of Molly, of his smile and of the card that he thrust into her hand. There's no card in her hand now, and then she looks at Yasha, who has disappeared into the kitchen and is currently pouring water into a bowl, and decides that there's no need to mention Molly. “Just being stubborn, I guess.”

Jester laughs. “Well, I'm glad you're back.”

“Me too.”

Yasha comes back with the bowl of water and a cloth. She sits on the sofa, right next to Beau's hip and as she dips the cloth into the water Beau pulls back slightly and tries to sit up because letting Yasha carry her back is one thing, but this, this is making her feel babied, like she's a burden.

“I'm fine.”

“You're hurt,” Yasha says.

“No really, I'm good.” Her hand instinctively goes to her neck. The wound is gone, completely but her robes and her skin are covered in dry blood. The slashes on her arms and chest are still there.

“Please,” Yasha says. “Just let me help you.”

Beau softens a little.

“I can cast cure wounds, but I'd need to sleep first,” Jester tells her.

“No it's... It's okay, I'll cooperate.” Beau slowly removes her robe. Her wounds throb and pulse with pain, and she grimaces as she throws it over the side of the sofa, where it's quickly scooped up by Caduceus and she's left in just her tank top.

Yasha gently pushes it up and her fingers brush against Beau's waist. Beau's mouth goes dry as Yasha's hands move across her stomach, her fingers almost dancing around the wounds.

“Am I hurting you?” Yasha asks.

“No, you erm -” Beau clears her throat - “you have a very soft touch.” It's so cheesy and Beau regrets the words the moment she says them.

Yasha laughs. “Good to know.”

And now Beau doesn't feel so bad.

“Hey, Jester,” Fjord says. “Do you want to come and give me a hand with this?”

“Okay, sure.” After another quick glance at Beau, Jester jumps to her feet and follows Fjord upstairs.

Yasha waits until it's just the two of them before she takes the cloth and presses it against Beau's skin. There's a flash of pain and Beau's body tenses, her stomach muscles twitching, and Yasha freezes.

“Sorry,” she says.

“It's okay.”

Yasha moves slower this time. She deals with the wounds first; taking so much time and so much care that Beau barely feels the damp cloth moving across her skin. Yasha's eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, her tongue poking out from between her lips. She looks so intense, so beautiful that Beau can't help but watch her.

With the wounds cleaned as best they can be, Yasha moves on to wiping the blood from Beau's neck and chest, the water in the bowl slowly turning a deep, dark red. Yasha's hand rests on Beau's hip, her grip tightening slightly as she concentrates.

When Yasha is finished she drops the cloth into the bowl and places it on the floor. She doesn't move back and she doesn't remove her hand, instead she looks up and Beau is caught off guard by the intensity of her gaze.

“Thank you, for what you did,” Yasha says.

“No p...”

“But please, don't do that again. I don't think I could stand losing you. I definitely couldn't stand being the reason you're gone.

“Yasha....”

“Promise me.”

“I can't promise I won't die.”

“Then promise you won't die for me.”

Yasha stares up at her and Beau can see tears forming in her eyes, it makes her want to promise, to say yes to everything and anything that Yasha wants, but she can't. She can't because she knows that it's a promise she won't be able to keep, if Yasha's in trouble she'll jump into the fray without a thought, she knows that now.

So she doesn't promise, instead she places her hand on Yasha's cheek. Beau leans forward, making her intentions clear and that's when Yaha finally pulls back.

“I should let you rest,” Yasha says.

“Right, yeah, okay.” Beau watches as Yasha practically rushes from the room before she throws herself back against the sofa.

'Fuck.'

She stays on the sofa for a few minutes, her cheeks burning with embarrassment before she decides to head upstairs and at least try to get some sleep.

Jester is already in their room, perched on the edge of her bed, drawing in her journal. “Hey Beau, are you okay?”

“Yeah fine, I'm just tired.” Beau flops down onto her bed and immediately closes her eyes.

“Shouldn't you be downstairs with Yasha?” There's a wet smacking sound and when Beau opens her eyes she sees Jester puckering her lips in an over exaggerated kissing motion.

“Yeah. I don't think that's going to happen.”

“Why not? She likes you, I can tell.”

“Well, she clearly doesn't like me enough. I think I'm going to get some sleep.”

“Okay. I'm going to stay up and draw for a little while. Look.” Jester turns her journal around and she shows Beau the drawing. It's not finished, but Yasha's face is very clear, contorted in agony as she holds something not yet drawn. “It's you and Yasha.”

“Jester that's -” Beau takes a breath and smiles - “really good.”

“Thanks.”

Despite Beau's best efforts she doesn't get a lot of sleep that night, she just tosses and turns, and the sound of Jester's gentle humming, which most nights she finds relaxing, even comforting, is tonight just an obstacle to her sleep, and when the humming finally stops as Jester herself falls asleep, it's replaced by the incessant whistle of the wind outside.

When she does finally fall asleep she's plagued by a nightmare; Jester's drawing, in technicolour and surround sound. Yasha screaming, it's a horrifying sound, even in her dreams and when she wakes up, her ears still ringing with it and Beau knows that there's no way she can go back to sleep now, despite still feeling exhausted.

Beau takes a shower, allowing the hot water to wash away her last few aches and pain. She looks down at the scar on her chest. Beau has no memory of the sword being driven through her, but she can remember the guilt and the shame on Yasha's face afterwards, the way Yasha couldn't quite look at her when she cast healing hands.

'Maybe we missed our chance.'

When she gets back to her room, her robe has been laid out on her bed, cleaned and dried, and Beau makes a note to thank Caduceus next time she sees him. She's just pulled it on when she sees it, a small card resting on her pillow.

“What the fuck!?” Beau quickly picks it up.

It's a tarot card and she immediately feels a little queasy. The card is not new, the colours are slightly faded and there's a crease in the corner. The image isn't as dramatic as the one Jester drew, but it's the same moment in time; Yasha cradling Beau's blood soaked body. “Jester! Jessie!”

Beau heads downstairs.

She finds Yasha in the kitchen with Veth and Caleb, the three of them are cooking and it smells good, whatever it is, but Beau doesn't stay to find out. She doesn't even acknowledge them, she just keeps her head down, even as she can feel Yasha's eyes on her and heads outside.

Jester is in Caduceus' vegetable garden.

“Jessie, is this yours?” She shows Jester the card.

“Wow. That's really good, Beau. Where did you get it?”

“It was on my pillow. You didn't draw it.”

“No. But I like it.”

“Oh.”

Beau looks at the card again, that queasy feeling gets stronger, and something wedges in the back of her throat. The image has changed, it's black, with a moon in the background, and instead of her and Yasha, it's a young couple, a woman in a long flowing white robe being held by a man dressed in black. They're kissing.

“Right okay,” Beau mutters to herself. She runs her fingers across the card, smoothing it out and then gently places it into the pocket of her robe.

“Hey.” Yasha stands in the doorway. Her voice is quieter, sadder, if that's somehow possible. “Caleb's found something.”

A piece of parchment has been laid out on the kitchen table, it takes up the entire thing, the burnt edges hanging just over the side.

“It's blank,” Beau says.

“No. The information is merely hidden.” Caleb takes something mushy, almost liquid out of his pouch, he smears it across the parchment and then holds his hands above the table and recites a few arcane words that Beau doesn't understand. The parchment starts to glow, thin, gold lines snake across it, forming patterns, creating an image and in the middle, sits a little red cross. “It's a map.”

“Well, it's good to know I didn't die for nothing. That's nice.” Beau laughs and quickly looks around the table, but nobody joins her.

“A map to what?” Fjord asks.

“I don't know, but the Bright Queen sent us to that castle, so whatever it is it must be important to the Dynasty. I think we should go there.”

“And where is there exactly?” Fjord asks.

“You see here -” Caleb points to a portion of the map that looks like mountains, the red cross in the middle of them - “they could be the Penumbra Range, near Bazzoxan.”

Beau looks over at Yasha, who's head drops slightly. “Maybe we should -” Beau sighs - “give this to the Bright Queen and let her people handle it.”

“What?” Caleb looks at her, confused. “Whatever this is it's powerful enough for somebody to keep hidden. Maybe we can use it to bring down the Assembly.”

“We don't even know what it is.”

“Well, we will if we go there,” Jester says.

“I just don't think a maybe is worth the risk.” Again Beau looks at Yasha, who's gaze now seems permanently fixed on the floor.

This time the others notice her looking.

“Oh Yasha, I'm sorry. I didn't think!” Jester exclaims.

“It's fine. Caleb's right. We should go there, it might be important.”

“Are you sure?” Beau asks and Yasha finally looks over at her. “If it's too much...” They hold each other's gaze for a moment.

“I'll be fine,” Yasha says, but she doesn't sound sure.

-----

The travel to Bazzoxan is much easier this time. The moment Essek sees the map he immediately agrees to take them, something that Beau files away for later, he even knows exactly where in the Penumbra Range the red cross is and drops them right at the entrance to what is a perfectly formed tunnel with a stone door.

“Are you coming with us, Essek?” Jester asks.

“I'm not really a fighter, but good luck.” And just like that he's gone.

Beau walks towards the door and studies it. There's something carved into the stone, a small square that's split into four. She traces it with her fingers and it suddenly disappears. “Oh shit.”

There's a click and the door slowly opens.

Beau steps back.

“Hey, you got it open. Well done.” Fjord claps her on the back.

“Yeah, totally meant to do that.”

One by one they head into the tunnel. Fjord goes first, using the Star Razor to light their way and Beau is right behind him. The tunnel winds downwards, heading deep into the heart of the mountain. It's a trek, Beau doesn't have the same sense of time as Caleb, but she's certain that it's hours, and the further down they go, the thicker the air around them becomes.

It reminds Beau of the days they spent walking to Xhorhaus.

Yasha is at the back of the group and Beau can't help but glance over her shoulder, just to check on her. Her pace slows, she doesn't mean for it to happen but after a few minutes the rest of the Mighty Nein have passed her and she finds herself falling into step with Yasha.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Beau asks.

“I think so.”

“Well, if you're not, you can just let us know and we'll leave.”

“Thank you, Beau.”

The two of them walk side by side as the tunnel continues to wind downwards and they stay close even when the tunnel opens out into a small room.

The ceiling is low, so low that Caduceus has to dip his head to get inside. The walls are made of stone, smooth and polished, this room hasn't been carved out by nature, this is man made, maybe even magically enforced. There's a small wooden door in the corner.

In the centre of the room is a skeleton, it's flopped on it's side, it's arm outstretched like it's trying to grasp at something. It looks like a Drow, but it's been here a while so it's hard to tell, the skin has become thick and leathery, stretched tight across the bones. There's no obvious sign of death, no wounds or marks.

Veth tries to search the pockets, for gold or something valuable, but the dark black robes fall apart immediately, almost disintegrating in her hands.

The rest of the Mighty Nein investigate the room, Caleb casts detect magic, Caduceus Eyes of Grave, Fjord even tries Detect Invisibility, all of them trying to find something about this room. They search for traps or secrets panels, but there's nothing. It's just a room.

The only thing Beau does find is a crack on one of the stones, it's small, so small she almost doesn't notice it. It might be natural, the type of wear and tear that comes over time but the rest of the walls are so pristine that it stands out. Beau studies it, runs her fingers over it.

“Beau, are you coming?” Jester asks.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Veth checks the door for traps and when it comes back clean they step through one by one.

The next room is just as plain and empty as the last. There's only one difference, instead of a skeleton in the middle of the floor, there are tiles with symbols carved into the stone. They're in grid formation; nine across and five down. They seem familiar not quite runes but close.

“What are they?” Jester asks.

“I don't know. But I don't think we should touch them,” Caleb says.

Beau joins him and the two of them study the symbols for a few minutes, some of the images repeat, appearing twice, some even three times. But most only appear once. There's a pattern of some sort, Beau's sure of it, she just can't see it. Neither, apparently can Caleb because after a few minutes he drops to the floor and begins to ritually cast detect magic.

Beau steps back, she takes out her staff and grips it tight, and then, after a few minutes leans against it. She can feel Yasha's eyes on her, burning into her, and she tries not to look, but it's difficult because she wants to look. Needs to look. She lifts up her staff and begins to twirl it, tossing it from hand to hand just to have something to do.

In the end she steps away, just to get herself a little distance, a little breathing space. The door to the previous room is still open and she steps back through, going back to the small crack on the wall. She leans in close, pressing her face against the stone and peering through the crack. There's something there, something underneath the stone.

“Beau.”

The sound of her name causes her to jump just slightly and she spins around. It's Yasha. Of course it's Yasha. “You shouldn't go off on your own.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know, but you should stay with the rest of us. Please.” Yasha is so open, her fear and pain written all over her face and it's just too much for Beau.

She turns away and looks at the crack. “I found something.”

Yasha walks over and gets close enough to see what Beau is pointing at, but not too close. “It's a crack.”

“Yeah. There's something behind it.” Beau throws a punch and the stone crumbles to dust.

She's right, there is something behind it. It's another rune, but this one is split into four, just like on the door, and there's a symbol in each one, some of which Beau saw in the other room.

“What is it?” Yasha asks.

“I think...”

Suddenly the floor beneath their feet begins to shake and there's a loud click. Something shoots out of the wall, thick stone, just behind Yasha.

The skeleton is crushed, it's bones exploding into dust.

Yasha starts to move, she has time, she can easily dive through, but Beau sees her look back and she stops, allowing the stone wall to slam shut on her.

They're trapped.

Beau quickly grabs her staff and holds steady waiting for whatever comes next, and Yasha does the same, pulling out the Skingorger. They wait, and wait, and wait, but nothing comes. No big scary beast with poison tipped fangs, no secondary traps. Nothing.

“I don't think anything's coming,” Yasha finally says, slowly lowering her sword.

“Why does that not feel like a good thing?” Beau walks over to the wall that's trapped them in and pushes against it. It doesn't budge. She taps it with her fist, then kicks at it with her foot and finally a whack – not at full force – with her staff. It's solid. “Fuck! That's... Fuck!” She checks the edges for any gaps, somewhere that she can stick her staff, or one of Yasha's swords in to try and force the wall back open but it's shut tight.

“We're trapped,” Yasha says.

“We're trapped.” Beau sighs. She falls back against the wall and flops to the floor. “I got us trapped. Fucking...” She groans and clenches her fist.

'How to make yourself feel like shit with one stupid decision by Beauregard Lionett' she thinks. It's a feeling that she's more than a little familiar with so she should be use to it, able to cope with it, but the hot, angry tears fill her eyes anyway. She can feels Yasha staring and quickly covers her face with her hands. It takes a deep breath, then another, and another, just to get herself under control. “I wish Jester was here.” She sees the flash of hurt in Yasha's eyes. “No, I mean... Because Jester could send a message to the others.”

“Right,” Yasha says, but the hurt look hasn't gone.

“The two non-magic users getting trapped together, it's not good. I'm not going to speak for you but without something or someone to hit, I'm not much use.” She drops her staff on the floor.

Now the hurt look falls from Yasha's face, replaced with something akin to sympathy and Beau's not sure which one she hates more.

“That's not true. There are plenty of things you're good at. We'll figure this out.”

“Sure, yeah, of course.”

“Do we -” Yasha turns away from her - “need to talk?”

“About what?”

“Last night.” Yasha's voice is so quiet that Beau almost doesn't hear her.

“I'd really prefer it if we didn't.”

“Okay.”

They go quiet and Yasha paces, as much as she can in the small space. Beau watches her, tapping her staff rhythmically against the ground. A tension has settled between them, it hangs in the air, thick and heavy, and weighing down on them. Beau feels like she's going to choke on it.

“I hurt you,” Yasha finally says.

“What?”

“I hurt you.” Yasha turns to look at her. “I almost killed you.”

“That wasn't you.”

“But it was. Me. I can remember every moment I was under his control. I can remember the faces of every person I killed. I can remember every swing of the Skingorger, I can remember blood and screaming. But most of all I can remember you, on the cathedral floor with my sword in your chest.”

“Yasha.”

“There are moments that I look at you and I...” Yasha sighs. “And then I remember that scar on your chest. I put that there and I can't forgive myself for that. Can you understand?”

“No, I can't.” Again Beau can see the tears in Yasha's eyes. “But then I wasn't mind controlled by some fuck who made me kill a bunch of people, so...”

Yasha smiles, but it's a sad smile.

“I'm sorry,” Beau says. “But you could've talked to me, you know?”

“I tried. On the Balleater, when we were making those statues with Jester. I didn't seem like you really wanted to talk, so I -” Yasha shrugs her shoulders - “stopped.”

“Shit.” Beau remembers that conversation and she also remembers why she deflected the way that she did. “Fuck.”

“I guess you're still angry with me.”

“No. No, Yasha, that's not true.”

“Okay.”

Beau sighs, because she knows if she wants Yasha to talk then she has to be willing to talk as well, and that's something that she's not good at, she's been trying, ever since she met the Mighty Nein she's been trying and she's probably getting better, but her ability to stick her foot firmly in her mouth is still there and she doesn't want to do that, not with Yasha, and not right now.

“Okay, here we go.” Beau stands up. “Seeing my father again, I erm, I didn't handle it very well.”

“I think you handled it fine.”

“Thanks, but I was going to make that deal with the hag because I wasn't okay and then it didn't happen, thank you Jester, and being back on the Balleater, being Fjord's First Mate again, I felt a little more stable, like the ground was once again solid under my feet and I didn't want to talk about anything difficult, in case it got shaky again. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“But that was my shit and I shouldn't have put that on you. I'm not angry with you, Yasha, how could I be? I know it wasn't you. I had Obann in my head, it was only for a moment, but if it wasn't for my training I'd have done what he wanted. I know how powerful he was. I can't blame you for anything you did while under that fuck's mind control.”

“I blame me.”

“I know.”

Beau takes a few tentative steps forward, giving Yasha the chance to pull back if she wants, just like last night. But this time Yasha doesn't. Beau takes her hand and places it on her chest, right over her scar. “Made by you, yes, but healed by you, as well. You didn't choose to stab me, you did choose to make amends, so you may not forgive yourself, but I forgive you.”

“Beau.” Yasha's crying. The tears stream down her face.

Beau has said all that she can, there's only one thing left for her to do. She hugs Yasha. She squeezes her tight because she knows that she can and Yasha sobs into her shoulder.

Beau isn't sure how long they stand there, it's a long time, long after Yasha has stopped sobbing and long after what would be the time for them to both step away.

“Thank you, Beau.” Yasha mutters into her shoulder.

“No problem.”

Yasha pulls back, not completely, she keeps her arms wrapped around Beau's waist and now they're staring into each other's eyes. Beau can hear the sound of her own heart or maybe it's Yasha's, or maybe it's both of their's, the two of them beating in sync.

It's Yasha that leans in this time and this is their chance, Beau is almost certain of it.

“Beau! Yasha!” Jester's voice pierces through the room.

The two of them step apart just in time to see Jester's head poke through a newly created hole in the wall. “Hi. Did you guys get stuck in here?”” There's a paint brush in Jester's hand, she waves it as she talks.

“Ask them what happened,” Caleb says, his voice echoing from somewhere behind Jester.

“What happened!? Were you guys making out?”

-----

Caleb discerns that the sigil behind the stone is a cipher, which Beau already knows, but she chooses not to say anything because she's the reason her and Yasha got trapped and why bother drawing everybody's attention to that.

“You need the cipher to solve the puzzle, but if you find the cipher you become trapped,” Caleb says, as they head back towards the puzzle, and with the new information it only takes Caleb about fifteen minutes to solve it. He presses each of the symbols in an order that Beau, having seen the cipher, sort of understands and there's a loud creak.

The wall just behind the symbols shakes. A jagged crack shoots down from the ceiling, chunks of rock tumble to the ground and the wall slowly opens inwards.

A bright light shines out and inside is a Beacon.

They head back to Rosohna using Caleb's teleportation circle. They don't tell the Bright Queen about the Beacon, choosing to hide it in the Bag of Holding as they make their way back to the Xhorhouse. Beau isn't sure she agrees with the decision, but she understands why Caleb wants to talk to Essek about it first, having more information can never hurt so she doesn't really argue. She does however linger at the back, not really participating in the debate the other's are having, and when Yasha joins her, their hands brushing together with every step, Essek and the possibility that he's stolen another Beacon becomes something she just doesn't give a shit about.

Their half way home when Yasha shifts a little closer and very gently takes Beau's hand. Beau doesn't look over, but she does smile as their fingers interlock. If any of the other's notice – and Beau is sure she sees Jester turning back to look at them every few minutes – they don't say anything.

The debate continues back at the Xhorhouse, the group sitting in the kitchen and drinking the tea that Caduceus makes. Beau contributes a little, but she's distracted, Yasha let got of her hand the moment they stepped through the front door and now they're on different sides of the room, but neither of them seem able, or maybe just not willing to stop looking at each other.

When they finally go to bed, Beau catches Yasha's eye and she's sure she sees a little longing there before they both slip into their own rooms.

“Beau and Yasha trapped in a room!” Jester is sitting on the floor, at the edge of her bed, her tail swishing wildly. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” She sings.

“That doesn't rhyme,” Beau says.

“But it's true though, right? You guys were kissing.”

“No.”

“Beau! You have to kiss her.”

“We were interrupted.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.”

“You could go and kiss her now.”

“Now. Now, I'm going to sleep.”

Jester huffs and quickly climbs into bed.

Beau climbs into her own and tries to get comfortable, but it's difficult, something rough rubs against her leg. She pulls back the sheet and sees a tarot card resting on the mattress. She recognises it instantly, the image of the couple with the moon behind them, the crease in the corner, the frayed edges, it's the one she smoothed out. The one Molly gave her.

She grips it tight, this was in her robe, Beau remembers putting it in her robe. She climbs out of bed and ignores the questioning look that Jester gives her. Her robe is draped across the back of the chair and she quickly rummages through the pockets, but the tarot card isn't there, instead all there is is a blank piece of parchment.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you okay, Beau?” Jester asks.

Beau stares at the tarot card and the picture slowly changes; the man and woman in long flowing robes fade away, replaced by an image of Yasha, her features soft, her eyes brimming with tears, and of herself, Yasha's hand pressed against her chest. “Okay, I get it, I get it.” She looks over at Jester. “I need to go and talk to Yasha.”

“Yeah you do.”

Beau heads to Yasha's room. She knocks on the door and hopes that Yasha hasn't fallen asleep. A few seconds pass and there's no answer, and Beau accepts that whatever she needs to say is probably going to have to wait until morning. She's already heading back to her room when the door opens and Yasha appears.

“Beau?”

“Er, yeah, hey. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was out on the balcony. Did you need something?”

“I did actually. Can I come in?” She points to Yasha's room and when Yasha doesn't respond she tries to smooth it over. “Or we can go downstairs? Downstairs is good?”

“No, you can come inside.” Yasha steps aside and Beau, not wanting the opportunity to slip away, quickly heads inside.

Yasha closes the door behind them. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just... I need to show you something.” Beau hands Yasha the tarot card and then waits, and waits, and waits. “What do you see?”

“Where did you get this?”

“Molly gave it to me, I think.”

“Molly?”

“Yeah. The other day, when I, well, when I died. He was waiting for me, on the other side, at least I think it was him, I might have been hallucinating, it was all a little weird. But it definitely seemed like Molly and he gave me that.”

“Molly,” Yasha whispers and looks back at the card again.

“What do see?”

“I don't see anything.”

Beau slumps. Her arms fold across her chest and she nods her head. “Yep, yeah. That's... That what I thought.”

Yasha continues to stare at the card. “Why, what do you see?”

“Me?” Beau's instinct is to lie, to save herself the embarrassment, and probably Yasha as well, but something stops her, something Molly said. “I see you and me. Honestly, I was kind of hoping you would see the same.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“I lied. I see you and me. The day I flew for the first time.”

“Oh.”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, I think it means that I should kiss you,” Beau says.

“Okay.” But it's Yasha who makes the first move. She gently places her hands on Beau's waist and pulls her closer. Their bodies press together. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Beau smiles.

Yasha leans forward and gently kisses her.

[sageyrage]

My End and My Beginning

This was written as my first collab piece as well as my first MHA fic! The collab is Afterlife, so please check out other amazing works here: Afterlife Collab Masterlist

I know that many people don’t like when writers put their OCs in because they want to place themselves in the scenario. However there’s a particular flow I wanted to share that required my OC to be part of the story. For this tale, please take note that my OC’s quirk is Hallucination, and I have included descriptors of attacks and weaponry that I have come up with for my OC. However, I intentionally left in “Y/N”, they/them pronouns and other descriptors for readers to add in so as to not completely ruin the story for Kirishima x reader.

***TRIGGER WARNING***

Mentions & Implications: Death

Smoke stung Kirishima’s eyes as he squinted to see where the attackers ran. Explosions, and varying colors of green and yellow electrified the skies as he heard his friends yell out their attacks. He pressed on, focused on finding the enemies that destroyed the city block. Amidst the yells for help and battle cries, he ran until he cornered his prey. Sharp shark-like teeth gleamed in his grin as his bulky shadow covered the wall of the alley. The man before Kirishima showed no fear as he grew, his body quickly covering with coarse, dense fur while a long tail grew. The head of the man transformed into that of a wolf and a loud howl pierced the darkness. The man growled at Kirishima exposing sharp fangs of his own before crouching into a fighting stance, ready to take on the unbreakable hero.

The two hulking men charged at each other and collided in a cacophony of thuds, growls and struggled grunts. Red Riot bulldozed the wolfman against the building, the hardening of his body keeping the snapping jowls of the other at bay. Back and forth, the battle of the braun went, both men clearly exhausted though neither would give up. “Why won’t you quit already?!” Kirishima grunted through his jagged teeth. The two pushed against each other; teeth, spit, sweat and determination fueled the duel until the wolfman jumped back from Kirishima with a yelp. His bloodshot eyes bulged as his paws swiped frantically at his fur. Yelps turned into terrified screams as his quirk dissolved and revealed the flesh of the man. Nails scraped and slashed at his skin, trying to remove whatever illusion he saw on his body. Kirishima turned his head to the darkness of the alley just as a shadow darker than black stepped forward.

A hood was pulled back to reveal a seemingly floating head, E/C eyes smiled at the red-haired hero. “I thought you could use some help, Red Riot. You good?” Kirishima nodded while the panic-stricken werewolf thrashed on the ground in front of them. “He going to be ok?” The vantablack clad figure nodded. “Fur or no fur, he’s really afraid of ticks. Dynamight, Deku, and Chargebolt have the others rounded up. I’m going to do search and rescue. I’ll see you after!” A gloved hand gently cupped the rough edges of Kirishima’s face. A soft ‘I love you’ whispered at him before throwing the hood over their head and boots quickly carried the hero away. Red Riot chuckled before turning to the wailing villain and pulling him to his feet and dragged him to the waiting police cars. Seeing Y/N’s cape fluttering against the dirty yellowed building, he called out. “H/N! BE SAFE!” Y/N turned and lifted the hood of the cape to blow Kirishima a kiss before ducking into the darkened building, with only the echo of thumping boots along the floor to indicate they were there at all.

Inside the ruins was an eerie stillness. Removing the hood, Y/N shone the flashlight to watch for obstacles ahead. Faint cries lead Y/N to part of the building that was dangerously crumbling, and their voice reverberating through the exposed beams and concrete. “I’m here! I’m going to get you out, don’t worry! Everything’s going to be okay!” As Y/N sprinted onward, creaking and low rumbling throughout the rubble caused even more destabilization to the wreckage. Still, Y/N continued forward, determined to answer the pained cries of the innocent.

Tremors caused heroes and police to lose their footing and stumble as the section of a building tumbled down nearby. Chatter of the officers and stable survivors shook their heads and lamented their losses. Kirishima jogged up to his friends, patting his best friend on the back. “Great job today guys! Hey, where are Deku and H/N?” Bakugou turned around, his wild scarlet eyed friend glared at him with his lip upturned. “That damn nerd is over there talkin’ to the cops and Y/N went into that….oh shit. They were in the part of that building that collapsed. Fuck!” Kirishima’s face paled at his friend’s realization. Panic set in his eyes when he turned to see a haze of dust slowly rising into the air.

Y/N blinked to see the gray of a swirling fog. The atmosphere, not cold nor hot, but… different somehow, like the pressure had been released. “Hello? Eiji? Guys? Where is everyone? What is that light? Is it the way out?” They walked onward, steps echoing around the dizzying gray fog. The silence was deafening and why couldn’t Y/N remember what was happening before ending up in this place?

The rolling fog thinned, and Y/N found themselves in a familiar kitchen. The sizzling and popping sounds of meat in the skillet. Taking the handle in one hand and a spatula in the other, Y/N flipped the cooking ham. Mumbling voices heard in another direction. The TV was on in the other room. A brief glance showed a news blurb of a villain being taken down by H/N and Red Riot. Pulling a plate from a cabinet, food was plated and placed on the table, Kirishima already sitting and ready to eat. “Hey baby! That smells delicious! Thank you for the food!” He smiled up at his Pro Hero partner as Y/N reached out to cup his cheek only to find the image of home overtaken by the grayscale fog. Confusion on their face as they looked around and continued forward. Maybe that light in the distance was the way out. “I must’ve been hit with someone’s weird quirk. Eiji has to be on the other side of that place. Then we can get this straightened out.”

He took off toward the piles of rubble screaming their name. “H/N! Y/N!” The squad of friends followed, equally worried for the fate of their friend. The reverb of Kirishima’s bellows vibrated the breaking walls and bending beams, sending chunks of concrete tumbling around the large pro hero as he ran into the dark space to search for his love. His friends followed close behind until Dynamight held his arms out. “Get back, it’s collapsing! Riot, get back here! Eijirou!”

Fog wisped away and took Y/N to the one of the training areas at UA. Standing before them stood Kirishima, Hagakure, Midoriya, and Bakugou. Aizawa, Ectoplasm, and Gang Orca stood off to the side and watched the students get into battle stances. “Begin!” shouted Gang Orca, and the populated side of the stage rushed forward toward the single combatant. Y/N’s hood blew back as they cried, “Shrouded Sabers!” Two safely capped swords ejected from the void of their sleeves. Y/N gracefully danced around her classmates, the steel of the blades connecting with Bakugou’s gauntlets while their feet connected with the side of Midoriya’s face. “Warp refraction: Say Cheese!” The light bounced off of Hagakure effectively lighting up the training area. With quick thinking, Y/N pulled the hood over their head while reflecting the light from their sword back to her friend. A yell from Invisible Girl, and Y/N bounded backwards, their eyes peeking from the vantablack hood, and watching her classmates drop to the ground with shouts of panic. “Spiders! Get them off get them off get them off!” Hagakure screeched, while Midoriya cried, “No...no! Why?!” Explosions could be heard behind them, Y/N turned in enough time to reflect the light off of the swords into Bakugou’s eyes, causing him to veer over their head. “Ah, dammit Y/N! I’ll kill you!” Kirishima activated his hardening as a sword came down to connect with his shoulder. A hard grip to either arm and Y/N looked up to see a toothy grin just before being flipped over Kirishima’s head and thrown like a ragdoll onto the ground. Unable to sit up, the dust cleared to see the unbreakable hero straddling them and smiling. “Gotcha!” Y/N raised their hands up to hold Kirishima’s face when the scene faded into darkness.

“Y/N? Where are you?” Kirishima stumbled over debris, tripping over exposed pipes, ignoring the falling concrete from the shaking building. He ran the flashlight over the dark area, the light being enveloped into a void that caused him to gasp and run forward. “Y/N! I’m here baby. I’m here.” He removed the hood to see a mass of H/C hair sticky with sweat and blood covering eyes that were closed and holding a tranquil look of sleep. He cupped their warm face, tears streaming down his dirtied cheeks. He barely heard the voices of his friends when another assault of stone came crashing down.

Gray fog eventually gave way to gray walls of a hospital. Walking along the corridors, Y/N weaved around people, careful not to touch anyone. Hurried nurses heading to check on the multitudes of patients, and doctors on their way to various floors ready to save lives. Y/N wandered floor by floor, greeting and speaking to some they knew. Upon entering one floor, the void hero saw the backs of their friends’ heads before turning eyes to the door they waited near. Reading the red haired hero’s name, Y/N burst into the room, only to find Kirishima not in the bed. Taken aback and exiting the room, Y/N snuck from the prying eyes of their friends to seek out their love, finally finding him staring out a nearby window, drink in hand.

“Hey tall, red, and handsome.” Kirishima swiveled at the sound of a familiar voice, his face immediately lighting up the rest of the hall. He scooped up his partner and spun them into a tight hug, splattering his drink all over the floor. “Apparently you’re happy to see me!”

“Of course I’m happy to see my best babe! Don’t worry, I haven’t been waiting here for long. Just had a few bumps and scratches. They wanted to keep me for observation but I’m fine. Hey… you wanna sneak out of here? No one knows where I am!” A happy Kirishima beamed as he took another long drink from the can he held. Y/N held up a hand to cup his cheek and smiled at the contact. Bringing his face down for a kiss, Y/N shed a tear of joy, excited to be reunited once again.

The unbreakable hero held out his arm, delighted that Y/N threaded their small arm through his. Y/N laughed and nodded. “Let’s go home, big red. I’ll make dinner tonight.” Neither of them heard the panicked voices of their friends around the corner as nurses ran into Kirishima’s room with a crash cart.

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Recaps: Koenma Appears

Welcome to episode two, everyone! Before we get to the recap proper, I want to continue down Nostalgia Lane for a moment. Remember how last time I mentioned a Hiei bookmark I used daily back in middle school? Well, I tore through an old "treasure box" I created as a kid (a collection containing everything from a shark tooth to a small book on witchcraft. You know, the important things every child needs) hoping to find it... but I didn't. It's a hard life we lead.

However, I did find some other YYH relics that I thought you all might enjoy seeing. Behold — and, if you'd like, laugh at — my collection:

First up is a picture of young Toguro and Genkai that I wanted to use as my bookmark, but found that it was too wide. For the record, I didn't (and still don't) care about Toguro much, he was just the byproduct of finding a cool Genkai picture. Not shown is the back of the image with the names of my classmates because I made them all sign this along with our yearbook.

God bless my friends for putting up with me.

Second is a collection of very pretty trading cards that I ordered from god only knows where. I have vague memories of not finding any at my local comics shop and convincing my mom to let me order on The Olde Internet. Did I want the trading cards to trade them? Absolutely not. They exist to sparkle and make my heart happy.

Finally, I've saved what is perhaps the best for last. Now, you have to understand that grade to middle school age Clyde did not have the education that she would receive later on, which includes a knowledge of the ephemeral nature of fanworks and the importance of accurate record keeping. What this means is that I have absolutely no context for this. No author, no explanation... just the image itself.

Was this a standalone fanart? A part of a fic? Some specific request or just the will of the artist? I cannot answer these questions. I tried a reverse image search (which is, admittedly, the extent of my tech skills) and you know what the single hit I got was? "Fiction." Thanks, google. So yeah, I can only assume that my child self considered Kurama giving a de-aged Hiei a bubble bath adorable enough to save, but the artist wasn't important enough to jot down for future viewing. Sorry about that, mystery artist. And, as should go without saying, if anyone does know where this came from please let me know! Though I suspect that this is a case of a YYH-specific site closing down and the fanworks getting lost along with it. That happened a great deal before the age of AO3 when volunteers decided to put their time and talent towards saving fanworks of all sorts... 

But enough of all that. Let's get to recapping!

As we established last episode, Yusuke and Botan are on their way to the spirit world to kickstart Yusuke's ordeal. Watching this after over a decade of consuming other media, I really appreciate that Yusuke acts like a human person and asks lots of questions about this. When Botan is cryptic for the sake of the audience — we're going to see "the person" who can explain everything — Yusuke is justifiably like, and what person would that be?? I mean, this is also a way to establish basic facts for the viewer and it simultaneously feeds into Yusuke being someone who is difficult for the sake of being difficult — "If someone wants to say something, they should come to me!" — but it's just nice to see a character who doesn't accept cryptic BS because the story needs them to. If Botan gives an unclear, but ~dramatic~ explanation, Yusuke is going to call her out on that.

So she explains that they're going to see King Yama and Yusuke is all whoa whoa whoa, there's royalty involved? Suddenly, he's not so adamant that they come to him. 

Botan tries to reinforce this rare spark of humility and demands that Yusuke be on his best behavior from here on out.

Pff. Yeah right.

But “he can send you to oblivion forever if he wants to!” is a suitable enough threat to cow Yusuke for now. Which is interesting considering that a few hours ago he was happy to accept hell as his rightful ending. Granted, we could argue that there's a big difference between hell and oblivion — a character may not be afraid of punishment in the same way they are a lack of existence — but I'd say this ties more into Yusuke's development at the wake. Now that he's accepted that people care for him and that he should strive to return to them, the threat of having it snatched away actually means something. Even if that line is otherwise positioned as a comedic moment.

Botan flies them through a portal where we see the River Styx below and Yusuke comments on how big everything is. At first I was like, "What are you talking about? You were just flying over some major city in fictional Japan, wasn't that big too?" but this line makes more sense when they reach the palace and you realize that yeah, it's big. As in, the camera blurs while tilting down its length to show how insanely tall it is. Yusuke and Botan are tiny gnats at the gate's entrance.

"Oh man, what a pad!" Yusuke says and sure, that's one way to look at it lol.

Botan announces that she has a "new arrival" and the gates open for them, but so far there's no one else around. One part of me wants to question the time and budget put into this scene because shouldn't there be, like, thousands of people? Even just waiting outside? The idea that this is the hub of the underworld and that Botan is responsible for ferrying all the souls, yet she is guiding just this one (1) dude for a solid day is, from a world building perspective, kind of nuts. But beyond the need to develop Botan as a character (she can't be a part of the story if her job is treated realistically, with all the endless work that entails), I think this choice functions rather well from an atmospheric perspective too. Meaning, this moment is supposed to be rather tense for Yusuke. He just died, just found out the afterlife exists, just discovered a desire to get his life back, and is now about to meet a King who can toss him into oblivion if he's rude — which Yusuke always is. So this is a Very Dangerous Moment and their relative isolation feeds into that. As does the setting. Yusuke flinches back from the hallway, saying that it looks like a giant throat, so he is now literally walking into the belly of the beast. 

Suddenly, the size of the palace isn't an indicator of awesome wealth, just general intimidation. Also, check out the spikey purple mountains in the background and the harsh reds of the scene, especially compared to the soft yellow of the river. All of it is designed to create an, "Oh shit" reaction in both Yusuke and the audience.

Yusuke's image of King Yama matches these surroundings:

Oh wait! Wrong character ;)

He's massive, red, shadowed, and poses a formidable threat. And how does Yusuke deal with threats? By fighting them! Even those he can't hope to beat. Remember, this isn't a situation where Yusuke has any power here, but he still desperately holds onto the possibility that he might. What if he gets off a punch on King Yama's nose? Then goes for his eyes? Yeah, that'll work! 

Overlooking the fact that it absolutely would not — Yusuke's fantasy conveniently skips how he escapes Yama's clutches — what exactly is Yusuke hoping to accomplish here? Somehow take over the entire underworld? Escape as a ghost and live out his afterlife in hiding? We don't know and that's because Yusuke doesn't know. He doesn't think ahead, he just obeys this instinct to fight. An instinct that, crucially, overrides everything else. Botan has already told him that all Yusuke needs to do is be polite and everything will be fine, but it's not even that Yusuke believes that he can't achieve that; that he knows himself too well and, fearing a slip, starts planning for a potentially inevitable confrontation. There are simply no plans outside of battle plans. Yusuke just hears about someone vaguely intimidating and his brain jumps straight to, "How do I beat him in a fight?" no matter the odds, or that other options are readily available to him. Again, much of YYH's characterization occurs though its comedy, so outside of the general humor of witnessing this fantasy, it actually does a stellar job of reinforcing precisely who Yusuke is. In life the only thing he had going for him was his ability to fight. It was his one joy, his one skill, arguably the one good thing he did if we frame those reflexes as "saving" the kid... so is it any wonder that fighting dominates his every thought? It's all he knows.

And, as we'll see down the line, that single-minded obsession is very useful to the spirit world.

For now though, Yusuke finishes his absurd plans to take down King Yama and Botan asks what in the world he's muttering about back there. Which is an unintentionally hilarious line because by the end Yusuke is not muttering, but full on shouting. Botan. How did you not hear him?

Not important. They reach the next door and we get our first inkling that all is not as Yusuke (and we) expect when Botan leans into an intercom to say that they've arrived. Tech in a fantasy spirit world? This feels not only out of place, but rather... mundane? That's the point. When the doors open Yusuke expects his super scary monster, but gets... a whole lot of monsters that aren't scary at all!

The underworld is run by various demons (or ogres), though their looks are contrasted with the harried office worker personalities they've got going on. Someone is running by with a comically tall stack of papers. Someone else is shouting into a cell phone. The first two demons we see cross paths, looking like they're about to punch one another, just as Yusuke expects... except they're just dramatically getting out of the other's way, worried not about the hierarchy of this realm, but the fact that someone is behind schedule. The nerve!

"This place is a madhouse!" we hear somehow shout and yeah, that's the joke. The afterlife is just as chaotic, overworked, and — ultimately — boring as any human office. For all the strangeness of seeing hundreds of demons, this is familiar.

Which, alongside Botan's bubbly nature contrasting assumptions about the Grim Reaper, is one of the first instances of YYH undercutting the viewer's expectations in terms of looks. No one entirely looks the part they play in this tale and if you're trying to teach people to look past surface characteristics... there are worse ways to do it. Horrifying creatures with horns and sharp teeth? Nah, they're just chill dudes trying to do their job. Cutesy girl who looks like she belongs in a mall reading magazines? Nah, she's the Grim Reaper. Terrifying delinquent with a spine-chilling reputation? Nah, he makes faces at kids and saves them from cars.

Of course, the "nah" isn't accurate either. These are monsters with horns, Botan is a cutesy girl, and Yusuke is a delinquent with that reputation. The message isn't so much that people look like Thing A, but get to know them and you'll discover they're actually Thing B, it's the idea that you can be A and B (and C, D, E...) simultaneously. People — or rather, seemingly simple archetypes — can, in fact, embody multiple characteristics at once.

We'll get our third example in just a second.

Yusuke makes a comment about this being the "dead people stock exchange" — accurate — and Botan leads him to a more ornate door past all the desks. It's clear they've arrived at King Yama's office, since she's bowing and formally presenting him to... someone. Yusuke looks around for the giant beast he's imagined, only for a tiny voice to hail him from the ground.

Looks are deceiving!

“This is Yusuke Urameshi and he’s honored to meet you." Botan knows what's up. She knows Yusuke isn't going to express anything of the sort without some prompting. Too bad he's busy cracking up at this apparent child running the show. Side note: Yusuke has a fantastic laugh.

He even goes so far as to accuse Botan of lying to him.

“Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

“Why would the spirit world be run by a toddler?”

It's true! That’s a legitimate question! I love that Yusuke asks questions. The "toddler" goes on to explain that he's actually the "mighty Koenma," son of King Yama, though he's lived fifty times as long as Yusuke, "so watch your mouth." Assuming Koenma knows and/or remembers how old Yusuke is — fourteen — and is good at math, that puts him at seven hundred years old. He looks good for his age!

"And in addition to knowing the secrets of the universe," he says, "I am quite potty trained."

You've gotta love Koenma.

Yusuke's attitude changes drastically once they get down to business. Koenma produces an egg, saying that Yusuke's ordeal is to hatch it and face what comes out. The hatching part isn't difficult, all he needs to do is keep it on his person. The challenge is in the fact that this egg will feed off his spirit energy and that energy in turn will change what kind of creature develops. If his spirit is wicked and cruel, so will be the beast and it will devour Yusuke upon hatching.

However, if his spirit is good and kind, the beast will become a sort of guardian, guiding him back to his living body.

Note though that throughout this conversation the egg is always a "beast." It's a "monster." It's not necessarily intentional, but there's a strong bend towards the negative here in the description that really emphasizes the whole "ordeal" aspect. Koenma briefly reassures Yusuke that he can remain a ghost if he prefers, but he's already made up his mind. Despite another threat of being lost to a void — this time through spiritual digestion — Yusuke takes the egg almost without hesitation.

He regrets it later though.

"I can't believe I did that."

Can we blame him? I'd be nervous about some egg feeding off the energy of my soul too and I'm a former, almost straight A student (damn you, math) with no life-altering regrets and a general desire to put as much good into this world as I'm able. I’m boring. But what if those occasional, mean little thoughts you have add up? What if the prejudices you're still unlearning stack against you? Does the egg care about what you do, or only how you feel about the act? This sort of test would eat me alive!

Maybe literally. 

Good thing Yusuke doesn't have time for an existential crisis!

Just as he's beginning to regret this decision, Botan points out that it won't matter if he passes if he doesn't have a body to return to. Now, why wouldn't he have a body? Maybe because his mom is set to cremate him tomorrow.

Whoopsie.

Yusuke is, understandably, distraught. We get another excellent exchange:

“Botan, is there any way for ghosts to communicate with living people?”

“Yes.”

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME?”

I swear, Yusuke is the only smart protagonist. I mean, he's dumb as a sack of bricks at times, but that's neither here nor there. Bless this fictional boy for reacting like an actual person. 

Botan explains that people are more attuned to the spirit world when they're asleep, so Yusuke can deliver a message to someone in their dreams. Seems easy enough. They first head to Atsuko, but find that she's raging drunk and nowhere near sleep. 

"You fool!" she yells. "No one gave you permission to die!" Atsuko continues to yell about how plenty of people survive car accidents, so why couldn't you? "Were you mad at me, Yusuke? Didn't I raise you right?"

Botan comments on how sad the display is. Yusuke's response?

“The only thing that’s sad is now she’s got one more excuse to act that way."

Y'all, that's some mature shit for a goofy shonen anime. Yeah, Yusuke recognizes that, while she's obviously heartbroken, his death has just given her another reason to do what she's been doing for years: drinking herself into a stupor. Toss in Atsuko putting the blame on Yusuke — "No one gave you permission to die!" — plus the belief that she did do a good job — "Didn't I raise you right?" — and it paints a rather bleak picture. This is by no means an uncommon theme. Negligent parents, whether they're framed that way or not, are pretty common in shonen series, but it's still rather jarring to re-watch this as an adult and go, "Oh. The situation’s like that." It's honestly a lot when you remove it from YYH's otherwise humorous, casual context.

Yusuke heads to Keiko's next and finds her sound asleep, commenting on how her room looks more "girly" than when they were kids. Check out that smile!

He's about to try and deliver his message, but Keiko is in the midst of a nightmare. “She’s crying… what’s wrong?”

Oh my god. Remember how I just said Yusuke is also the densest protagonist around? Example A right here. You just died, you fool! You just saw Keiko collapse at your funeral. What do you think is wrong??

We get a peek at Keiko's dream where she is — shockingly! — thinking of Yusuke. He's far out of reach, walking away and unresponsive to her calls. Keiko soon trips and Yusuke disappears completely.

Luckily, she has the real thing at her bedside. Yusuke tries talking to her and at first it's unclear if this supernatural stuff is really working. That is, until Keiko murmurs about how heavy he is.

Reassured, Yusuke delivers his message that Keiko needs to help Atsuko pull herself together and, most importantly, call off burning his body. We get this very soft and pretty background to establish their yet unspoken feelings for one another, though Yusuke gets close with, “I’m coming back. I don’t want to see you cry anymore" as he brushes her tears away. Aww.

Keiko wakes, thinking at first it was just a dream, but no, "I'm sure I felt it."

The next morning she heads to Atsuko's to explain the dream, only to first hear that Atsuko had a dream too, this one about Yusuke "living in some other world full of ogres and he kept knocking them down until he became their leader." It sounds absurd, of course, but it brings Atsuko some comfort to think of her boy in a place like that and Keiko backs down. Right, she'd only had a comforting dream too.

Now, there are two important parts to this exchange. The first is that this is an excellent example of how you let the characters drive the story, rather than forcing the characters adhere to the plot you've come up with. Meaning, in the latter situation, our cast would have needed to have their personalities twisted and the viewer's suspicion of disbelief tested to give Yusuke what he needs: a sleeping family member willing to believe his message. But it absolutely makes sense for Atsuko to be drunk rather than sound asleep, so Yusuke can't rely on her. Likewise, it absolutely makes sense for Keiko to be asleep, but not believe the dream once she's woken up. After all, how many times have we been persuaded by something in the dead of night only for things to look more logical and less likely in the morning? The characters act both like themselves and like people who do normal, people-ish things, which means that Yusuke runs into more conflicts. That's good! It not only raises the tension and stakes — now he has less than a day to convince someone — but makes his inevitable success feel that much sweeter. A less well written show (cough-RWBY-cough) would have had the characters change their personalities, behave in unlikely ways, or just come up with a sudden, contradictory solution because Yusuke needs to keep his body. Instead, Yusuke actually has to work for that within the bounds of the rules established and the likeliness of each plan succeeding. The first one fails? Move onto plan #2.

Second, this dream of Atsuko's has some cool implications within YYH's world. Meaning, we're about to learn in just a moment that some people are naturally more aware of the supernatural than others, even when they're not asleep. We'll also see down the line that spiritual awareness tends to run in families... so perhaps Atsuko possesses more than the average mother? I'm not saying it's necessarily intentional on the author(s) part, but we can choose to read this dream as evidence of spiritual awareness — true insight into the world Yusuke was just in and the fantasies he'd had about conquering it — rather than just a coincidental joke for the viewer. After all, Yusuke gets his own spiritual awareness from somewhere...

(Okay, so there's totally another, canonical reason for that, but we can have both!)

So, as Yusuke puts it, “This dream business isn’t gonna cut it.”

“There’s always the final method," Botan says.

“You always this vague?”

I am literally living for these interactions.

Botan explains that the more extreme form of communication is possessing a living person, but there are two rules attached: it has to be someone you know and the vessel has to be someone who is quite spiritually aware, as discussed above. Atsuko isn't a contender because the story hasn't acknowledged that she might be sensitive, that's just my own headcanon now. Yusuke outright says, “In that case I’m screwed. There’s no one like that!"

Cut to good old Kuwabara.

At first it looks as if he's just oh so conveniently sensing a spirit right when the audience has learned he has this power, but in reality it's Yusuke and Botan flying behind him that sets it off. Again: this show is pretty good about keeping things internally consistent, rather than making choices because That's Just How Stories Work, I Guess. Kuwabara's friends note that he's acting strangely and I love this detail that apparently one of the guys is new to their group because the other two need to explain that this is the "tickle feeling." Ever since Kuwabara was a boy he's been able to sense the dead around him. Some nice, some... not so nice.

He looks directly at Yusuke — even though he's not able to see him — and declares that what's following them is “A puny low-level ghost, like a haunted racoon or something.”

I'd support Yusuke's anger more if he hadn't just exclaimed his surprise that Kuwabara serves a purpose 😂

Yusuke is pissed enough though to proclaim that he won't do it, nuh-uh, no way is he possessing this guy's body. Botan's response is one of my FAVORITES in the WHOLE SERIES:

"Here's my impression of Yusuke: look at me, I’m burning!”

Literally 75% of this series is just about a found family sassing one another and I love it.

Obviously this helps Yusuke remember his priorities and he grudgingly agrees to the plan. Botan prepares Kuwabara's body somehow — idk, spiritual magic or whatever — and warns Yusuke that he only has an hour to find someone and warn them because a human body can't handle possession any longer than that. Sure. I buy it.

So Yusuke takes control and please ignore the incredible ethical issues here. The show will never acknowledge them again. 

He blurts out, “Hey, check it out! I’m inside Kuwabara, feeling smooth!"

Istg I don't remember the series being this unintentionally gay. I don't even ship Yusuke/Kuwabara and I'm digging the possibilities here lol.

Back on track, his friends drag him with, “Looks like he’s back to normal” because again, 75%. What's not normal though is Kuwabara (Yusuke) suddenly charging down the street to leave them behind. He heads straight to the restaurant where Keiko's parents work, demanding to see her. They're rightly concerned about this stranger barging in and screaming for their daughter.

Upon asking who he is/why they should tell him, Yusuke makes his biggest mistake: “Because it’s me, you guys, I’m Yusuke!”

Obviously the time limit and raw emotion of knowing who he is has outweighed the knowledge that, you know, no one would believe that. Yusuke has spent the last two days bopping around as a ghost and familiarizing himself with some of the afterlife's insanity. The knowledge of what's normal for everyone else — AKA, not dead boys appearing in strangers' bodies — is not at the forefront of Yusuke's mind.

So, Keiko's parents react accordingly! The father in particular is disgusted by this claim, going so far as to threaten Yusuke with his knife and outright insult Kuwabara's looks: “Yusuke was never ugly like you… we were close family friends with that boy!" His wife chimes in that this kind of joke is particularly heinous on the day of his funeral. Between Atsuko drunkenly blaming Yusuke for his death and Mr. Takenaka grieving for what he might have been, this is one of the few times we see someone just sad for Yusuke's passing, exactly as he was and without regrets or criticism. "We were close family friends with that boy" paints a nice contrast to the delinquent persona Yusuke was cultivating.

As he's thrown out of the restaurant he says, “We should have special passwords for times like this!” Fun fact, my family does! Well, not this exact situation lol. I was given a password as a child to memorize in case my parents ever needed to send someone else to pick me up or interact with me in any way. If the stranger didn't know the password, I was to kick up a fuss. I rest easy with the knowledge that this password would not doubt assist me if I was ever in Yusuke's position!

With Keiko's parents a bust, Yusuke starts sprinting to everywhere she frequents with the hope of running into her. Or at least he tries. 

Yusuke is suddenly waylaid by a group of nameless teens with a bone to pick with Kuwabara. And you know what? I like it. I wonder how much of my praise stems from coming off of RWBY Volume 8, but it's just so nice to watch a story where the plot — simple as it is — hangs together. We've established that Kuwabara is a street fighter. Last episode we watched him start a fight with Yusuke. Yusuke is on a time limit. Now Kuwabara's tendencies have created a new hurdle for Yusuke!

Needless to say, Yusuke kicks butt, even in Kuwabara’s body. 

As one guy is passing out he says, “Man that hurt! I didn’t think anyone could throw punches that hardcore except Yusuke Urameshi."

Yusuke: “Darn, giving Kuwabara a good name." LOL

You think this challenge is finished though? Nah. Over the course of about half an hour Yusuke encounters a comical number of people trying to get even with Kuwabara. 

As always, I like the nods towards this writing decision to help justify it, with Yusuke wondering how Kuwabara has pissed this many people off. If you want to pull off something that has a low chance of happening, it can help to give the characters a "Seriously?" moment. If both they and the audience are on the same page over how ridiculous this situation is, the audience is more likely to accept it once the character does.

By the time Yusuke escapes his hour is nearly up. However, thanks to some coincidental plotting, he spots Keiko's friends just across the street! 

YYH does a decent job of making its characters feel like they have their own lives outside of what's immediately happening on screen and we get a good example of that here. We pick up the girls' conversation partway through, both of them worried about Keiko's state of mind and, given that we'll see in a second that Keiko was in the store with them, it implies that something happened to reignite this worry. They're off enjoying their day, doing their own thing, there was an event we're not privy to, and now we catch the response to that. It just helps make the characters feel more well-rounded even though they are, at their core, one-dimensional background characters who don’t even have names yet.

Case in point: the one girl is still concerned with their image. "People are starting to say things!"

Yeah, your friend's childhood friend just died. Hopefully they're saying, "Poor thing."

Anyway, Yusuke runs up to ask where Keiko is only for both girls to run away screaming. Turns out his face is messed up from the numerous fights and Keiko's friends are easily scared. 

Luckily, Keiko comes out just a second later and Yusuke is faced with the challenge of how to convince her in, oh, about five minutes. Remember, we've already established through Keiko's parents that just saying, "I'm Yusuke" doesn't work. That's why he hesitates. It's not just drama for the sake of drama, he's stuck.

“I’ve known her my whole life, there must be something between us that only I would do!”

Yeeeeaah. About that 😬

Suddenly inspired (I suppose that's one way to put it...) Yusuke runs up behind Keiko and grabs her breasts. “Keiko, nice uniform! They’re so squishy!”

It goes without saying that, like flipping her skirt up, this isn't okay. More specifically, the problem lies in the story framing this as a joke for the audience, something to laugh at despite Keiko's discomfort, rather than the concept of two childhood friends actually be that comfortable with one another. But, as already established, this is one of the more ehhhh aspects of Yusuke's characterization that, luckily, will mostly disappear as the story goes on.

Note though that the show clearly wants us to think highly of this. Not just as a "joke," but as a smart solution to his problem and more evidence of their inevitable relationship — the background becomes the same soft, bubbly background we saw during their dream conversation. And, admittedly, it does work. Keiko instinctively slaps Yusuke hard enough to knock him to the ground and he starts laughing, saying that he doesn't care what anyone on the street says, she hits the hardest.

What I do like about this is that the assault isn't the only thing Keiko bases her faith on. Not only has she already had the dream, we get to see Yusuke from her perspective, showing all the mannerisms she picks up on by superimposing Yusuke's real body over Kuwabara's. Indeed, she says as much: “I knew it was you from the first time you spoke…and it’s not just your stupid gags, or how you laugh. There are ways you move and speak that in a hundred years I wouldn’t forget."

Catch me crying in this club!

Knowing she believes him and that he's almost out of time, Yusuke reiterates his message: please don't burn my body and also keep Mom on track. Only, you know, it's phrased far better than that lol. As he speaks, both Yusuke's and Kuwabara's voices overlap until the latter grows fainter and only Yusuke's voice remains. His body too. It's a nice touch, avoiding the awkwardness of Keiko having this moment with a stranger, even if that is what's happening on some level.

“I know I’ve been a bum to you at times, but please wait for me."

His hour up, now we can get the awkwardness! Kuwabara comes out of his weird trance thing to find Keiko crying against his chest. Wow, he thinks, this girl must be really into me! 

God, to have the confidence of Kuwabara.

Of course, Keiko quickly realizes it's not Yusuke anymore and slaps him too for cuddling her closer. My favorite thing is that when she does this a crowd INSTANTLY appears. I mean they TELEPORT in. We needed an audience for Kuwabara's shame and YYH delivered, all logic be damned.

“Um, sorry about that!” Keiko yells as she runs away, because she's a good person who recognizes that weird spirit things just went on and Kuwabara isn't actually to blame.

“No, that’s okay. I probably deserved it," Kuwabara responds because he's also a good person and I didn't appreciate him nearly as much as I should have as a kid.

Keiko runs all the way to Atsuko's place where she finds her dressed for Yusuke's funeral. She blurts that Yusuke might still be coming back and Atsuko goes, "He already has." Turns out she opened his coffin to "smack him one more time for leaving me" — yikes — and found that his heart had started beating again, just as Koenma said it would. 

Being in a shonen anime, they apparently decide to just trust Keiko's message rather than, idk, taking him to a hospital or something.

The camera tilts up to show that Yusuke has been watching all this, including that both women break down again and comfort one another. Aww. How heartwarming.

What's less fuzzy though is this mysterious egg. Yusuke takes another look and finds that it has developed a heartbeat too, presumably in time with his body's. He theorizes that he did decent things today, right? But Botan (teasingly) points out that he did beat up a lot of other kids. Rather than getting angry, Yusuke remains uncharacteristically pensive, emphasizing the magnitude of what this means for him. He's got to get it right.

No pressure or anything! We'll have to see how Yusuke balances his karmic scales in the next episode. Until then, I'll try not to put all my TV time into Star Trek: Voyager :D 

See you then!  💜

[avenger-hawk]

Hi, can you talk a little bit about naruto’s dark, controlling and possessive side? Or if you already wrote about it, link me the post? Thankss

I mentioned something here, here and probably there is smth in this tag. 

And like I said countless times since you guys just don’t care about other ppl, if you write n*ruto’s name entirely it will show up in the search pages and I am fed up with raging SN/SN.S/Nar stans bitching at me.

Sorry (nope, not sorry) to break someone’s bubble but Nar is not a happy ball of sunshine and he’s not selfless. 

He was neglected as a child, totally abandoned to himself with some money each month and an apartment he was supposed to clean and manage all alone. He was shunned or treated like sh*t by villagers and classmates alike, his only ‘parent’ was Iruka who couldn’t be with him always, and his idea of friendship, family, everything was twisted, cause try living all by yourself since you’re a child and you have no idea of why ppl hate you and avoid you. Of course he saw the Hokage as this big authority figure that everyone respects and ‘loves’ in his child mind, and of course he wanted to be Hokage so that ppl would finally respect and ‘love’ him. His idea of love is obviously screwed, and it’s a mix of respect, aknowledgement, deference.

He doesn’t have a sense of equality because he never learned what equality is. He was below everyone else being shunned and hated, and his role model was above everyone else, where he aspired to be.

He started to make friends and he’s all about comrades, yes, like all shounen protagonists. But it’s always him reaching out to them, him protecting them, him changing their minds about something (or about himself), him obtaining their admiration and respect from an initial situation of being the opposite, being considered a good for nothing and a loser.

Sasuke is considered the opposite since the beginning, he’s a good student and shinobi, he’s left all alone too and nothing is shown of his alone life but from the little things we see he learned to manage himself and the house better, he didn’t care about people probably talking behind his back about the massacre, and he obtained a good reputation in the academy, so the story starts with him in a different situation. And Nar considers him a rival, he’s clearly jealous of the ‘success’ he has, not realizing that he’s alone too. Because Nar is not empathic at all, and his child self is even less, being a child with clear difficulties in processing things, which makes sense since he had no education basically. He just sees external signs of adjustment and ‘success’ which is what he wants, so he ‘hates’ Sasuke and he provokes him all the time. They become rivals, then comrades (and rivals), then friends, but it’s always Sasuke who, despite his aloof personality, shows positive signs, first hand feeding him, then defending him against Sak*ra, then shielding him and many other little things while Nar is always overreacting or doing questionable, not to say bad things (like attacking him and tying him up to meet Sak*ra) to him.

Nar’s lack of empathy can be seen after the inn scene, cause instead of being I won’t even say supportive but, not irritating, he mocks Sasuke who just woke up after Tsukuyomi, provoking him so that Sasuke, already (re)traumatized and feeling worthless towards both his brother and Naru, challenges him. Right after waking up from a coma, basically. And ofc Nar doesn’t hold back.

When Sasuke leaves in part 1 Nar is enraged, ofc, and he reacts violently, even their fight is very violent, and ofc it is being a fight, but Nar is really really brutal, feral I’d say, and possessive, trying to bring him back. I don’t remember their fight well but if I’m not mistaken that’s when he first threatens Sasuke to break all his bones?

Then Sasuke leaves and Nar starts his own “sad boy missing his ‘best friend’ drama” and all the fandom is uwu look at him so sensitive, but he’s being abstract there, while when he faces Sasuke direcly or indirectly he’s different, more direct and not sentimental. As expected of a badass fighter, cause that’s what he is, that’s what everyone is in the story. when in part 2 Orochimaru calls Sasuke ‘his’ he goes berserk, and his search for Sasuke becomes even more obsessive, to the point of claiming that if they’ll fight they’ll both die and theyll be ok in the afterlife...this is kinda poetic but also creepy af. It’s stalker material tbh. Also because in that moment Sasuke just ‘killed’ Danzo, he’s exhausted, visibly blind, especially after fighting Kakashi, whose fight clearly took his toll on him (He avoided Sak*ra’s pathetic attempt to kill him but that was easy). Nar has all his energies and he’s stronger physically anyway having more stamina and kyuubi’s chakra. But he’s ready to fight him, even tho he gives a speech because ofc. too bad that Sasuke doesn’t fall for it cause he has his own personality and his own goals, which for Nar is unacceptable cause everyone must be on his side, especially the one he wants.

Sasuke remains on his own side until Itachi does his thing and bla bla bla, Itachi first is brougth close to Nar which was interesting to watch but also a huge narrative move to bring Sasuke to his side as well, getting to fight alongside his beloved brother and wanting to understand him and his ideal of protecting Konoha thus summoning Orochimaru, the 4 Hokage and deciding to join the battlefield. Then they fight together and even then it’s Sasuke who accepts Naru’s lead, not the other way round because Nar would never obey anyone who’s not himself especially he wouldn’t obey someone he wants to possess, metaphorically (but if you like also literally).

When the battle is over and their battle starts he shows his true colors. He’s no longer the one wanting to die with his ‘friend’, he’s a leader wanting Sasuke, his ‘friend’ who in his eyes took the wrong road, to get back to the village, because Konoha is HIS concept of happiness. In fact, Sasuke in Konoha is Nar’s concept of happiness. And to obtain it he uses every method, not just a good ol’ fight, the more brutal the better. In fact their last fight has a different vibe, it’s Sasuke the one who’s more stressed and emotional, he’s drained, completely, cause he wants his revolution and he wants to change the world to make him like Itachi dreamed of, and he needs to eliminate Nar for it, he doesn’t want to eliminate him but he needs to and he clearly explains him why in the beginning of the fight. The way he fights is desperate.

Nar instead is calm, his emotions are under control, he fights with his hands but also with mind techniques because he manipulates Sasuke all the time: he tells him that he didn’t understand his own brother (implying that he did it better. That he, who interacted with Edo Tensei Itachi for a couple of hours, understands him better than the brother who basically worships him!), that everything he believes is wrong, that he knows what’s best for him (which is interestingly exactly what he wanted in life, what a coincidence). And it works, cause Sasuke admits his own defeat, and, later, he is further brainwashed and guilt tripped, jailed and submitted until he’s a perfect Konoha dog. Even in his Shinden episodes he’s away but loyal and guilt ridden for his actions. He became Naru’s watchdog, his most loyal servant. Not his equal. He fulfilled Naru’s wish for him.

And, in case someone’s still not enraged because Hawk how dare you shit on their amazing bond?  shocking huh? yeah I write what I think and I am very interested in their bond actually, since it’s a dark unhealthy one, completely unbalanced, just like I’m interested in Nar very much when he’s not idealized, cause he’s much more complex and interesting with his dark side.

Every episode shows Nar’s lack of care and empathy, his inner violence and selfishness, but they also are justified somehow. I can understand why, since his childhood made him self-centered and lacking the ability to interact with people on an equal basis, basically he never grew up for real, he acted like a grown up person but he remained a child inside, a possessive child who wants something and then discards it. And it shows whenever he ‘saves’ someone with his TnJ, this someone becomes his ‘friend’, loyal to him forever, and he moves on to ‘save’ someone else, all the while having Sasuke as his ultimate goal. Too bad that after he saves him too, he discards him as well. Not as much as the other cause Sasuke is special to him, but not as an equal either. I won’t mention the jail moment while Naru is basking in his popularity cause some don’t see it as canon, but when in the manga Sasuke is leaving Konoha and stumbles on Nar he says he didn’t think the other would come greet him. This shows how their relationship isn’t so amazing, since one would imagine that Nar would be 24/7 with Sasuke after he comes back.

So, all these moments show a clear picture of him as a possessive and selfish person who only ‘cares’ about ppl because he wants to be ‘loved’ (=admired and respected and aknowledged as the best) by said ppl, and whose ‘love’ for Sasuke is possessive and obsessive to an extreme point, a desire to be aknowledged and respected but also to submit the one whom he most ‘loves’, because there is no equality in the way Nar sees himself and the rest of the world, including ‘his’ ‘best friend’.

(btw if someone disagrees, keep it for yourself, I don’t give a damn about discussing with you)

[orionsangel86]

You want the boys to separate in the end?

Yes. Because it makes the most sense. I don’t say this because I hate them being together please don’t assume that. I love Sam and Dean together, but I find their relationship very interesting in how they have basically been forced from childhood to depend entirely on each other and to not really know how to function without each other and since at least season 8 the show has been showing us just how unhealthy this is.

When I talk about the toxic codependency, I am not being hateful towards the brothers bond. I am just explaining what I feel the show itself has made very clear - that Sam and Dean’s dependence on each other, and desperation to stay joined at the hip, has caused not only a threat to their own safety and mental health, but also a threat to the world. Their terrible decision making when the other is in danger has been shown over and over again. Their willingness not just to die for each other, but to sacrifice the world for each other, is a huge problem, and one that hasn’t been tackled fully in the show, but we have been making great progress with it in the later seasons.

In fact, so much of Chuck’s storyline relies on Sam and Dean’s codependency. In 15x09, the vision that Chuck showed Sam of the future where “they won” was tied heavily to the brothers inability to let each other go, even when they were both extremely unhappy. They just spiralled until they ultimately became what they had always fought against. Of course, there were other key factors such as Dean losing Cas which caused him to give up leaving his only reason for living being his brother (which is a bleak and horrid future but one that did make sense given the season 13 grief arc), but ultimately it was the reiteration of “Butch and Sundance” and the call backs to the warewolf murder suicide from 15x05. Sam and Dean’s codependency is always their downfall.

When the show has explored the brothers separate desires, dreams, and wants, throughout the series, it has always clearly shown how different those desires are. Sam has previously questioned whether he would continue to hunt without Dean. He has said that he couldn’t do it without him, but so much of the time hunting and Sam are not portrayed positively. It always comes across as an obligation or something he has resigned himself to. Sam has explored taking a leadership role - which he suited extremely well until his set back in season 14, and he has also been a sort of apprentice to our Witch Queen Rowena. More recently, his relationship with Eileen has been framed as a realistic goal for him. She is a hunter too, but they are also both legacies. Sam’s desire to learn and gather lore, his interest in magic and his leadership skills have all been built on and explored more heavily in Dabb era. It stands to reason that Sam’s future and endgame lies somewhere among these things.

Dean, on the other hand, thrives in hunting. Where Sam was dragged back into it much to his own protests, Dean always enjoyed it. Dean enjoys the hunt. He wouldn’t have called Purgatory “pure” if that wasn’t the case. But Dean has also expressed his desire for a beach vacation and also a partner to stay by his side. He says he won’t do the apple pie life, but so much of Dean’s arc has been about finding a happy middle ground between apple pie life and hunting. Dean has a lot of abandonment issues - something the show has made very obvious since season 1, and in later seasons what I have always called Dean’s “pining arc” has continued to subtly play out in the subtext. Sam may have the clear romantic love interest right now, but Dean still very much wants that too. 15x10 showed this through Garth, and through Dean’s dream, where symbolically his platonic dance partner disappears and instead Dean dances with a lamp whilst imagining a love interest. The meaning in that is blatantly obvious.

Given that Chuck’s ending wish is for the brothers to die in some epic murder suicide way, we know that this won’t happen. Sacrifice is also old news on this show, so in fact is death in general since death will never be satisfying in a show that made death trivial in season 2. I believe that part of the endgame will be a massive shake up of the afterlife and the various realms but I still don’t think the show can end with both brothers dead. So how then are we supposed to close out this story if they stay alive and are still just doing what they do? There still needs to be some sort of bittersweet feel to it. It has to feel like the end of an era, but once you rule death off the cards, a brother separation by choice is the only thing that feels right.

Plus it makes sense. The toxic codependency MUST end. That is a big key area that has been laid out as a negative quality in the brothers relationship for seasons now. Sam must choose to find his own path away from standard hunting, and Dean must find a level of peace that allows him to go on whilst also letting Sam go. Dean must choose to let Sam go, just as Sam must choose to walk away.

This is why Castiel and Eileen are so important. Eileen has her purpose by Sam’s side. The liklihood that she is an endgame match for him is very strong. Even if they don’t actually take the relationship any further in text, just her coming back and standing by Sam’s side would be enough now following the kiss for the show to set that relationship in stone.

Castiel has his own journey to make, one that includes fixing heaven, guiding Jack towards his true purpose (my speculation being him taking Chuck’s place as God), and making a choice about his own future. Given every single one of Castiel’s storylines so far in the entire series, Castiel should choose Dean.

Whether this means Castiel decides to permanently give up his halo or not remains to be seen, but Castiel fits the missing space by Dean’s side in every way. I don’t just say this as a Destiel shipper, I say it because the story has placed Cas in this role countless times now. It makes sense. Regardless of whether the surface level relationship between them remains platonic or takes that final step, I am pretty damn positive the ending will keep Dean and Cas together, with the “end of an era” closing bittersweet emotional note being Sam and Dean saying goodbye to one another and parting as brothers who have been on one hell of a journey, but recognise that it has come to an end.

Frankly, it’s my ideal ending for the show. Sam taking Eileen’s hand and making the choice to travel the world searching for other Men of Letters chapter houses, to collect more magical artifacts, and to build a better resource for other hunters world wide to tackle the remaining supernatural creatures on Earth (yes I know i’m entering fanfiction territory here but I love the idea of Sam being a Supernatural artifact hunter in Europe - give me THAT spin off!) and Dean and Cas sitting side by side in the Impala, on their way to the beach - Dean will take Cas shopping first of course. He’ll try to convince him to buy a tiny blue speedo but Cas will raise an eyebrow and pick out the novelty swim trunks with the little bees on them (He’ll alsosecretly get the speedo for later).

Okay okay I’ll stop with the fanfiction :P. Other than my silly ending headcanons, the parting of the brothers just makes sense. If you don’t agree that’s fine. This is all just my spec and Dabb does have a tendency to throw major curveballs at us so who knows what will actually happen. So long as they don’t go all Game of Thrones on us.

[howler518]

FAYE x KRATOS CH 14: THE ENDLESS

PREVIEW:

"Sto kalo, sto kalo...kala nea na me feris," Kratos murmured. Nevermind that he was praying, more he was thinking about the souls of the lost. Would they still hear him so very far from home?

"What's that you said?" There was the familiar bite of suspicion in Faye's tone. "Just now, to the ravens. What did you say?"

Kratos shifted to her, but not before looking back at the sky one last time. It was too late - the ravens had all flown away. He released a long breath and wondered if his beloved's still waited for him at the banks of the River Lethe before their final crossing into the afterlife. Before they forgot him completely.

"Fly and bring back good news," Kratos translated. Faye did not sheath her dagger.

"Why do you bid the ravens to bring you news?"

Kratos noticed her grip tighten on the weapon and she maintained her distance from him. He shook his head, not in the mood to entertain interrogations with the hunter.

FAYE

BEFORE

Salka informed the Jotuns of the entrances to the Undir that had been hidden across Midgard. Immense caverns that turned into narrow, submerged cave-systems and passageways that stretched for endless distances. Odin had designed the labyrinth for the worst of his enemies and the most heinous criminals so that they would spend eternities wandering the unknown.

That was until Rán birthed her daughters there in the ocean beneath the world. It changed them. Molded them into twisted, cursed shapes. When young giants come of age in Jotunnheim, they could choose which shape they may take - be they human or beast. These daughters had no choice in the shapes they took. The Undir decided for them while they were still in the womb. In their different bodies they were able to withstand its crushing pressures and swim through its rushing currents. With their changed eyes they were able to navigate their way through the impenetrable depths. And with the stolen knowledge they inherited from their mother, the daughters of Rán eventually freed themselves from their imprisonment and claimed dominion over the seas of Midgard.

Seafarers attributed many names to the monstrous creatures. The Drowned Exiles. The Nine Maidens. Wave Daughters. Keepers of Hidden Treasures. These were tales told to Jotun children to fill their imaginations with lost hoards of glittering riches or feed their nightmares with toothy creatures with snapping, hungry jaws. The naughtiest children were threatened with watery punishments, others learned to be wary of what lurked below.

Salka led the Jotuns to a steep mountainside, where a horrible gash had been made in the snowy crag. The wide mouth of the cave yawned open. Hana inspected the massive, monolith at the entrance. She ran her slender fingers along the weathered surface of the stone carvings. The details had been washed smooth by time and the elements. Her brow scrunched together as she made out the inscription.

"Well?" Yrsa stood close behind with her hands resting at the head of her warhammer, grey eye scanning the shadows inside. Frode had his back to the cave, poised against the forest behind them with his sword and shield drawn. Barren, crumbling earth shifted beneath the Jotun's steps. They could all sense it. The unnatural magic that created the Undir was hewn from raw, primordial chaos. Corrupted. It hung in the air with a low, unyielding thrum that set them all with unease. Like the beat of a ravenous, hateful heart.

Faye stood even further from her companions. She swayed slightly with the dizzying tumult of desecrated magic. Her teeth were clenched so hard it made her jaw ached. The others had barely spoken to her through their trek to the mountainside and they kept their distance. Faye's only company had been the Aesir. It was an acute irony that not even her own kind would have her.

Faye wrung the chain between her hands as she watched Hana translate the ancient words carved into the monolith's surface.

"Yfirgefðu vonina, þér sem hingað komið," Hana said and turned back to face the others. Her serene features were marred with dread.

Abandon hope, ye who enter here.

The utterance of such an execration sent a wave of apprehension over the Jotuns.

"Well," Yrsa said, hefting her warhammer over her shoulder, "This is the right place."

"No kidding," Frode muttered. Faye shifted, the feel of this place left a sour taste in her mouth and a nauseous grip in her stomach.

"Do you know what we will face once inside?" she asked Salka. Unlike the Jotuns, the Aesir stood in reverent awe of the structure. Faye could tell the archivist's ruined hands itched for charcoal and parchment to document this trove of knowledge. She shook her head.

"Only those cast to the depths truly know," Salka said, "We will be the first to tap its secrets."

Faye shot the Aesir a doubtful glance.

"Surely there have been others."

"Maybe so," Salka said grimly. Faye ground her teeth down with a heavy breath. If there were others, they never returned to speak of what they'd seen.

Faye turned away with a tight grimace and watched the sun dip lazily below the bleeding horizon. Time was already growing short and they couldn't spare any more of their efforts searching for another path.

The forest had grown so still with the heavy fall of snow. Animals retreated to their dens. The pines and birches were slumbering with their roots entwined with each other, holding on til the thaw of spring. Faye savored the last bits of fresh, clear mountain air. The gentle whir of the wind past her ears. The chill in her lungs with each breath. Closing her eyes, she imagined the tall peak of Jotunheim reaching up into golden skies.

"We will return," Faye said, more of a promise to herself than to the Aesir. They would retrieve Tyr and she would bring them back home. And at last, there would be hope for the dark days ahead.

I will not fail, Faye told herself. I cannot.

Faye gave the chains a gentle tug, leading them forward.

"Come," Faye urged the Aesir.

The others parted before her, offering Faye a wide berth as she made the first steps into the cave's mouth. Faye and Yrsa shared a look as they passed each other. Faye's stomach lurched, still sick with shame. She couldn't hold Yrsa's gaze for longer than a moment. She could not blame them for their coldness toward her. Not after Faye had been so willing to sacrifice them on the altar of her vengeance. How willing she'd been to pay any price for her cause. It was only right that she lead the charge.

The rest of the Jotuns filed behind Faye as they ventured inside. Their footsteps were careful and measured.

Mineral formations, like razor sharp teeth, stretched down from the ceiling and jutted up from the rocky floor. As if they were entering the belly of a great beast. Wind whipped past the entrance and elicited a low trembling moan from the throat of the cave. The Bifrost at Faye's hip provided a small glow of bluish light but it would not be enough to withstand the dark. Once inside, she fought against every natural impulse to flee. To cling to the light, to the day.

Though Salka seemed to admire the structure at first, there was a growing hesitancy as they moved in deeper and the light shrank at the imposing darkness. She slowed and looked over her shoulder, face paled in the last vestiges of light reaching into the cave's mouth.

"Shouldn't someone else lead?" she squeaked and gestured to Hana and Frode. Frode shoved her forward.

"Don't forget your place, Asgardian," he snarled. The chains rattled and their echo shattered down the cave's gullet. They all stopped and seemed to take a collective breath as they listened to the hollow, endless echo. There was a long bracing moment as echo faded into the dark.

"We ought to keep quiet," Yrsa said, "We wouldn't want to disturb our hosts."

When the light of day extinguished, Hana took Yrsa's satchel and pulled four torches from within. It was dwarven-made, making it larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside. Contained within were all of the field supplies they would need for their journey to the undersea. Including the Asgardian disguises they would use once they made landing in the realm of Odin's kin.

Hana laid four cuts of wood before her with flint stones in hand.

"Edlur." Hana said, cracking the stones together and the torches roared to life. Light filled the shadows around them and penetrated the heavy miasma of discordant energy. The air cleared somewhat, breath came a little easier to their lungs.

Yrsa strode over to Faye and passed her a torch. The warm glow of the fire danced over Yrsa's stony face. The wound that claimed her eye was healing well. A slice of red stretched out from under the cloth. It cut through her eyebrow, reaching her forehead and down her sharp cheekbone. Faye gave a curt nod of thanks. She didn't trust her spiteful tongue with speech. Yrsa placed a hand on Faye's shoulder, squeezing as she leaned into Faye's ear as the others gathered themselves. Faye's heart began to gallop in her chest at the closeness. Juniper spice washed over her senses and she found herself leaning into the warmth of Yrsa's hand.

"I will be right behind you," Yrsa murmured. The low gravel of her voice anchored the unsettled tides in Faye. She swallowed hard over the growling lump in her throat. She should say something. But what words would be enough to undo the damage she'd done? There would come a time for all the things she wanted to say and do, but it wasn't here and it wasn't now. Faye gave a stiff nod and continued forward.

The passage of time faded as they continued on. There was only the impenetrable dark beyond the light of their torches. Off the main road were several small, damp corridors and tunnels spreading out into the deepness. They walked what felt like eternities measured in the steps of their feet against the gravely stone and the mixture of their breaths in the dank air. The air was thicker with every step and moisture dripped from the stone. The steady drip drip drip bounced off the walls and swirled in their heads like a spell. The oppressive weight grew heavier on their chests as they went on.

"Hold." Yrsa stopped at a heap tucked in between two jagged stalagmites. She lowered her torch.

It was a skeleton with ancient armor still clinging to its form. She squatted down and inspected it, Frode coming beside her while Hana guarded their flank.

"Fuck's sake." Frode poked at the remains with his sword. "See those little marks? There, on the skull."

Yrsa's features twisted in a grimace.

"Teeth," Hana agreed from over her shoulder.

"There's more," Faye said, lowering her torch toward the floor. Strewn across the length of the corridor was enough remains for a company of soldiers. Faye tried to count their exact number but it was hard to tell. They lied in scattered, dismembered clumps. Faye ground down against the dread pulling in her guts.

"Perhaps they went mad with hunger and took to eating each other," Salka gulped. Faye shook her head, lowering to inspect a piece of rib. Clutching it between two fingers, she brought it to the firelight.

The tiny scrapes were too small for the teeth of men.

"Rats maybe?" Salka's eyes darted around the dark corridors leading beyond, shifting uneasily from side to side.

"I'd like to see the rat that can do this to grown warriors." Frode scanned the floor. They were tightening their ranks. The quiet around them became imposing, like the deep breath before the plunge.

"There are no battle wounds upon the bones," Hana said, "They were not killed by arrows or blades."

"Look at this," Frode pulled a chest piece up into the light. It was slashed across the front, the metal and leather shorn apart. Peppered with more of those tiny scrapes. The cut was too jagged for the slice of a blade. Faye took a knee and sampled the moist earth between her fingers. She sniffed then prodded her little finger with her tongue.

"Bears?" Salka kicked a piece of a skull away from her. Faye spat with a tight grimace. Certainly not bears. The scent in the air was a sour musk foreign to Faye's knowledge of the Midgardian creatures. Even the fouler sort like wulvers and tatzelwurms.

Faye hovered her palm over the stone and recoiled. There was the faintest bit of warmth.

She shot up and saw with renewed eyes with where exactly they were standing. They had stumbled into a den, the feeding ground, for whatever lived in these caves.

"You know as well as I," Yrsa said with a side-glance down to Faye. She had a white-knuckled grip on the warhammer.

They were being hunted.

"Are we even going the right way?" Frode snapped. "The Aesir could be leading us to our deaths!"

"Keep your voice down," Yrsa hissed.

With that, Faye tugged the Aesir toward her and undid the chains binding her wrists.

"What are you doing?" Salka shot a nervous glance at the other Jotunns.

"Too noisy," Faye said, eyes scanning the dark as she lowered the chains to the floor. "She will not stray far," she reassured the others.

"Oh? And why's that?" Frode said.

"We have the light," said Faye. Still, Frode was eyeing Salka the way a gyrfalcon sized up its prey. Ready to dive at any moment, sickle-like talons drawn to rip through flesh.

Yrsa began digging in her pouch for their rations and she stuffed them into a separate satchel. Frode gave a dissatisfied sigh, knowing what Yrsa was up to.

"There is still the hardtack and forage," Hana said but it did little to soothe his disappointment. It wouldn't be as appetizing or as filling but it would have to do. Yrsa drew their jerky and salted meats from the pouch and shoved it into the satchel. She passed some to the rest of them.

"Eat it quickly," she ordered. Faye tore off a chunk of her portion and fed it to Salka.

"Shame." Frode sighed and took one last greedy mouthful of jerky.

When their rations were secured in a separate pouch, Yrsa reached up and fixed it to a low-hanging stalactite with rope.

"Should keep them off our tail for now," she said.

"Do we know what 'them' is?" Hana asked, considering the swaying bag of meats hanging from the cave ceiling.

Faye prayed to the ancestors that they'd never find out. Faye turned back toward the main path, looking to Salka. Her wrists were red and irritated from the chains, bleeding in some places.

"How much farther?" Faye asked.

Salka paled further than Faye thought possible for the wisp of a woman.

"We need to move. Now," Yrsa urged.

They were all too eager to depart that wretched section of the path. But as they moved on, Faye couldn't shake the sensation of many eyes on her. She could feel them from the offshoot tunnels and passageways, the darkened corridors leading off into the unknown. Her only comfort was that she was not alone. Hana and Frode were following close, and Yrsa was just behind her as she promised to be. Her massive stature was a shield at Faye's back. Her entire presence was like a balm to Faye's uncertainty.

They knew they were traveling deeper as the incline of the stone beneath them intensified. Beyond, there was a hushed roaring reverberating up the cave walls toward them. Then came the petrichor scent of water upon stone like a spring rain. It felt like hours until the path took a sharp curve into a thin spiraling ledge downward that circled a gushing waterfall. It's rushing waters fell into an open chasm, pouring itself down into the nothingness.

"We rest here," Yrsa declared and began pulling out supplies from the pouch. There was no protest from the others and the noise of the waterfall would mask their presence from the creatures lurking in the tunnels. From the ache in her bones, Faye guessed they'd been walking for more than a day. Faye's muscles strained with every uneven step upon the stone floor. Her body went slack with exhaustion, as did the others. They would need to preserve their strength and keep their wits about them.

Hana and Frode got a fire going while Yrsa tossed out their sleeping pallets. Frode, face drawn with fatigue, was careful not to let his hands brush Hana's as he passed her wood and kindling from the pouch. Hana was equally as cautious to not let her eyes meet his.

Faye stood at the edge of the chasm, peering over into the deep. Once they'd rested, they would delve farther into the depths of the cave. She wondered how far under the surface of Midgard they would have to go to reach the Undir. Deep enough to for the Allfather to hide an entire ocean beneath the world.

"I have seen more spine on the floor of this gods-forsaken cave than in that one," Yrsa said as she stood beside Faye. She glanced back to see Salka sagged against the wall, head lolling as she fought exhaustion.

"Hm," Faye grunted in agreement. She hugged her arms around herself, finger tapping her bicep. Say something, her insides roared. The silence stretched between them but it didn't seem to perturb the giantess. Yrsa waited patiently for the words to form in Faye's hesitant mouth. But nothing Faye thought of sounded adequate to fully encompass the depth of her regret.

"I should not have said what I did," she spoke low, voice mixing in the gush of the waterfall, "They were words spoken in haste and anger."

It wasn't enough. She knew it.

Yrsa nodded as she considered the half-apology. Faye waited for what felt like an age. Heartbeat thundering in her throat.

"You speak of sacrifice but you do not know what they gave up to come here." Yrsa said, a storm cloud gathering in her eye. "What I gave up."

"What did you sacrifice?" she asked.

Yrsa shook her head.

"All that could have been is clouded now," she said, sagely. As if she already possessed the gift of foresight to see that this plan was doomed from the start. Faye gulped. She wasn't sure if that was an acceptance of her apology or not. She tried to convince herself that it didn't matter either way. They still had a job to do whether or not they all got along. Even so, Faye longed for the comfort of Yrsa's forgiveness. That boundless rage inside her rose up again.

"You think I gave nothing for this?" Faye ground out.

Yrsa settled her heavy gaze on Faye.

"What does this mission really mean to you?" she asked. "Speak freely. It is only us."

Faye dug her teeth to the inside of her cheek and glanced back at the others. Frode and Hana were crowded around the fire, palms braced behind them. Though they didn't look at each other, Faye saw that their little fingers were laid over on others. The tiniest bit of affection that they could spare each other.

"Why are you asking me this?" Faye's chest was tight as if she was bound with ropes. Like a spider caught in its own web. A fool tangled in a mess of their own making.

Faye used her honor and sense of duty as crutches to her doubts. When she needed purpose, he gave it. When she needed direction, he showed her the path. She realized too late that she had filled all the emptiness inside her with Tyr. And when he was gone - she had nothing. There was still so much work left unfinished. There was so much more she had left to learn from him. Faye didn't know how else to carry on without his guidance.

Yrsa drew in a tense breath.

"I ask because I need something of you, Laufey."

Anything, said a small voice inside Faye. It was against every instinct that told her to be wary of giving more of herself than she could spare, wary of making promises she knew she could not keep.

"What I am about to suggest is going to be unpleasant. But I have a solution to our problem," Yrsa continued.

Faye shrugged.

"As Frode said: We have no secrets between us," she said.

"Don't we?"

Faye let loose a dry laugh. Faye knew what Yrsa was suggesting, but she couldn't be serious. It was madness. All Jotuns had but one secret. One that hundreds of thousands fought and died for and the reason for all the chaos across the realms. The thought of betraying that secret sent a dizzying shock of repulsion through Faye.

"We are running out of time," Yrsa said, "I don't see another option for us."

Faye held her head, shaking it. They were desperate, but she didn't think they were so desperate as to give up something so sacred as that. To even consider it felt like blasphemy.

"There must be," Faye hissed.

"This is what this mission has come to so remind me - what more are you willing to sacrifice to get him back?" Yrsa asked again in earnest. The storm in her eye swirled, a restrained tempest in her gaze.

"Our sacrifice will mean nothing if we trade Tyr for the pathway to Jotunheim. We'd be chopping off one hand to save the other!" She stole a glance back at the others to ensure no one would overhear Yrsa's insanity. Beyond complete insanity - it was reprehensible.

"We cannot weather this alone," Faye added.

"We are not alone." Yrsa said and Faye wanted so badly to believe her.

"Aren't we? Who will rally to our call when the Asgardians are baying at our doors?" Faye seethed and counted the ways they were well and truly fucked. "They have Mjolnir. Now the Valkyries and the forces of even Hel itself. We have no more allies, and none that are reachable now that the ways have been shut."

Yrsa was unphased by Faye's sharpness.

"We have each other. We have hope."

"Hope," Faye chuckled. She didn't think Yrsa was so naive.

It had to be these endless, winding tunnels getting the better of the woman's senses. Faye shook her head, feeling so unlike the person she used to be when she had been beside Tyr. It was this place. The heaviness of the air, the crippling dread weighing in her heart. Faye had never felt so far from hope than she did now.

Yrsa stepped closer, bearing down on Faye as she spoke.

"You forget yourself. You forget that you and I were chosen for a reason."

There were so many others more worthy of Groa's gift. Yrsa being first among them.

"It should be you," Faye said without thought.

Yrsa's brow drew together, face drawn in confusion. As if to think that this was not the Faye she knew, the one she had fought countless battles beside for more than a century. This was not the Faye that snuck past Aesir battlements to free their prisoners or tend to those she could not set loose. This was not the Faye that single-handedly slew dozens of frost trolls for the ingredients to her enchanted axe, whom she named Leviathan. Where went the fearless warrior? Where went her courage? Her unbendable will? Faye sensed Yrsa's thoughts lurking beyond her gloomy eye.

"It is not for us to decide," Yrsa said, and Faye sensed disappointment. The creeping shame peeled away Faye's defenses, leaving her bare to Yrsa's scrutiny. Faye knew it was wrong of her to say, but all the same she couldn't shake the feeling that the elders had made a grave error in naming her a candidate for Groa's gift.

"What do the others think of your plan?" Faye jerked her head to Hana and Frode. Hana was slumped against Frode's shoulder. They had fallen asleep like that, sitting beside the fire together.

"They will follow your lead."

Faye huffed a doubtful laugh.

"They still believe in you, Laufey," Yrsa said, then paused, "I believe in you."

Faye whirled on Yrsa, throat tight. How could she still have faith even after all Faye had confessed? Faye's chest throbbed with an overwhelming dread. She couldn't help but feel that their belief was terribly misplaced. She was an imposter, a cheap charlatan and their hopes were wasted on her.

"How can we ensure that the Exile won't betray this secret?" Faye demanded.

"We can't."

"And who's to say we aren't playing right into the Allfather's designs?"

"No one."

Faye scrubbed her face with her palm.

"You aren't making this plan sound very appealing."

A faint smile played on Yrsa's lips and Faye fought the desire to reel her in and capture that smile. To feel her. To taste her. Just this once.

Anything, anything, that voice inside Faye prodded.

"Let me think about it," she said.

Yrsa smirked and clapped Faye hard on the back.

"Good girl."

Yrsa left Faye to join the others by the fire. Faye stood watch while the other slept.

There was something wrong about the darkness. Faye wasn't sure if it was her own fatigue or the cursed magic of the place. Perhaps a combination of both.

It was deeper. Contorted. Shadows quivered in the firelight and shapes materialized from the jagged cave structure. They took the form of every nightmare that had ever haunted Faye's dreams.

Bloodsoaked battlefields. Limbs hacked from bodies. Companions turned to crow-fodder. Eyes plucked out by vicious beaks.

It was everything that would come to pass in the wake of her failure. In her dreams, Faye would scream in the infinite black. But now she was too numb, too tired, and too frightened to even shiver. She stood, paralyzed.

I cannot fail.

For their sake, I cannot fail.

FAYE

NOW

The rain had come in the night. Faye felt the icy drops pelt her cheek and a shiver rose from her chest as the rain slid down over her skin. She woke to darkness with nothing but the cold drip of the rain all around her. The pitter-patter sound seemed to echo, bouncing around Faye as it would off the walls of a cave.

For a moment Faye had forgotten where she was. When she was.

In a flash, the world turned white. Ear-splitting thunder boomed overhead. Faye shot up, her heart stuck to the downbeat.

"Yrsa!" she gasped as lightning cracked across the sky in a blue streak.

Night returned. The thunder rolled, deep and undulating like the growl of a hungry beast. Faye's heart galloped in her chest like stamping hoof beats against her ribs. She'd drawn the dagger and was holding it out against the darkness. Trembling, she watched for the shape of monsters in the shadows. For the sparking blue energy of Mjolnir.

But Faye was alone. The fire beside billowed with thick plumes of smoke as the growing onslaught of rain extinguished the flames. She lowered the dagger as the sounds of the forest pooled around her. The tap of the rain against the leaves. The musk of wet wood and moss.

Faye noticed that a wool blanket had been tossed on her while she slept.

"Farbauti?" she asked the shadows but there was no answer from among them. He would be off hunting or patrolling the camp's perimeter.

As Faye's raging pulse slowed, she was aware of the distant, croaking call of ravens.

KRATOS

Daybreak had come clouded and dismal. The rains had turned their path into a immpassible mire. With each step, the clansfolk sank into their heels and calves. The earth sucked at their boots with an iron grip, resisting any movement like it was trying to consume them whole. The wagons at the head of their formation became cemented in the mud, wheels sunk deep into the mud. The horses pulled and strained to carry their burden until they nearly collapsed with exhaustion. The caravan halted and it took almost all of the abled-bodied clansfolk pushing and pulling for Kratos to finally step in to reel it from the mud. The clansfolk both marveled and feared Kratos' incredible strength and the ease in which he hauled the wagon as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. There were whispered about him amongst clan. They wondered by what power of the gods he came to be blessed with the strength of twenty men. If they only knew.

Faye returned on horseback with the forward scouts.

"It's no use!" Faye called to him, "The road ahead is impossible."

Strands of soaked, rust-colored hair stuck to her mud-streaked face.

Kratos eased the wagon back to the mud where it began to sink in. Faye swung down from the horse, still wincing as it rattled her injuries. As her foot brushed the earth, she began barking orders to make ready a camp until the skies cleared and the road became traversible.

"Are you so certain there is no other path?" Kratos did not doubt her prowess and knowledge of the forest but he was eager for their continued journey.

"Not unless you are content to pull the entire clan on your shoulders," she said. He could. That wasn't the problem. He could not both pull their weight and defend them at the same time. Kratos relented. He didn't like the idea of extending the length of the trip but it was this or risk the safety of the clan.

Kratos tensed as thunder barrelled across the sky. The low flicker of lightning hid in the dark, swirling clouds. Kratos found himself waiting for the screech of an eagle. He steeled himself, amber eyes scanning the skies for the burst of white wings. But then he remembered. Even now he felt the oppressive weight of the sky above him as if he was Atlas holding it aloft. Even in death. Kratos still felt the echoes of his father bearing down on him.

A shift among the tree branches shook Kratos' focus from the sky. Shadows shifted among the leaves. Faye half-turned and bristled, a snarl on her lips. She snatched the dagger from her belt and hurled it. There was a high-pitch screech and a flock of ravens scattered out from their cover. They retreated into the sky and Faye spat a curse after them.

"Farðu!" she growled and approached the tree to retrieve her dagger. A small black thing flopped on the mossy forest floor. It was a raven pierced through the chest with Faye's dagger. The bird croaked a throaty death knell as blood leaked profusely from its wound. Faye she planted her boot into the wing and reclaimed the blade. She muttered something in her language and cleaned it on her forearm.

Kratos watched the ravens and was reminded of his mother, Callisto. He often wondered how she filled her days when he was taken to agoge to be shaped into a soldier and citizen of Sparta. She endured many weeks and months without word from her only remaining child. It was common for mothers and wives to ask the ravens to ferry their sweetened sentiments to their sons and husbands as they suffered for the glory of Sparta.

Sto kalo, kala nea na me feris, the beloveds would say. He imagined Callisto at the reedy bank of the Eurotas, watching and waiting for high reaching sails of a trireme to break the horizon and herald the return of her victorious son.

"Sto kalo, sto kalo...kala nea na me feris," Kratos murmured. Nevermind that he was praying, more he was thinking about the souls of the lost. Would they still hear him so very far from home?

"What's that you said?" There was the familiar bite of suspicion in Faye's tone. "Just now, to the ravens. What did you say?"

Kratos shifted to her, but not before looking back at the sky one last time. It was too late - the ravens had all flown away. He released a long breath and wondered if his beloved's still waited for him at the banks of the River Lethe before their final crossing into the afterlife. Before they forgot him completely.

"Fly and bring back good news," Kratos translated. Faye did not sheath her dagger.

"Why do you bid the ravens to bring you news?"

Kratos noticed her grip tighten on the weapon and she maintained her distance from him. He shook his head, not in the mood to entertain interrogations with the hunter.

"Stories from my homeland. Entertainment for fools and children," he said as if to scold himself. Faye softened slighty.

"Huh," she mused, seeming more relaxed. She flipped the dagger in her grip and sheathed it. "Didn't think you were one for superstitions, Farbauti."

"Hm," Kratos rumbled. He'd rather her call him by his name.

With the exhaustion and the pouring rain, it was a mighty effort for the clan to form up a camp for them to recooperate their strength. Fires were slow to start with nothing around for kindling but soaked wood. There would be no hot meals tonight. Only damp, unleavened bread and salted meats. Kratos and Faye helped where they could. Kratos hauled supplies from the sunken-in wagons while Faye secured the horses. She calmed them with gentle hushed words when thunder and lightning spooked them into a panic. But Kratos noticed the way she shook with every crack of lightning and growl of thunder.

The camp would be vulnerable to predators who were usually kept at bay with fires so Kratos went to secure the perimeter of the forming camp. Faye followed by his side, the deep blue of her eyes still watchful of the trees.

"Tell me about the ravens of your homeland. I have a fool's eager ears," she said.

"I am no storyteller."

She seemed anxious for distraction. He knew she had nightmares the same as he did. He knew the names of the ones she called out for when she woke shivering and sweating alone in the dark. Her nightmares were only getting worse the further they ventured from the homestead. Kratos held a low-hanging branch aloft for Faye to pass under as they circled the clan's camp.

"There are worse ways to pass the time than to fill the hours with stories," Faye said and passed under the branch.

" - and good company," she added with that wry grin.

It felt like a jab of sarcasm so he ignored it.

Lightning flashed overhead and shattered the forest with a burst of piercing light. Faye shuddered and her feet seemed to sink into the earth where she stood. Anchored her to the spot, she was pale and wide-eyed. He'd seen that kind of look before in the soldiers who'd seen too many blood-soaked battlefields. Thunder followed, low and rumbling. Kratos could tell by the long breath in between lightning and thunder that the storm was moving away.

"In the land of my people, ravens were messengers of the sun god," Kratos said.

There was a slight pause of surprise from Faye. It was information she didn't have to pry from him and she didn't seem to trust it at first. As if he'd tricked her somehow.

The earth's grip on her feet gave and she continued on by Kratos' side as he spoke.

"The ravens returned with news that the god's lover had taken another he scorched their feathers black. They learned to never return without good tidings."

Usually Kratos had no need for such expansive speech. To say more than a few words even felt verbose to him. But it was different when he spoke with Faye, he just didn't know why. As Kratos spoke, he could see Faye relax some. Her shoulders softened and he could hear the rate of her heart slow back to its normal rhythm.

"When war dragged on and my soldiers were feeling…" Kratos struggled for the translation. "Nostalgia - weary and longing for home. They would ask the ravens to bring news."

The troubled seas in her eyes grew calm at the mention of 'home' and he wondered what kind of distant life Faye longed for.

Kratos had learned enough about her to know that she was not meant for a lonely life in the wilderness. Her weathered armor, her innate battle-sense, and the axe of devastating power hitched to his shoulder. He could feel the axe's will at his back, yearning for the grip of its true master.

He sensed that Faye had been meant for something more but for whatever reason - she chose a different path. He wondered if she regretted that choice to live a simple life rather than take vengeance for her kin. He couldn't understand how someone could set all that hate and rage aside and embrace something else. If she could do it, then was there hope for him as well?

Even as Kratos imagined himself scraping out an existence in his own isolated cabin somewhere in the northlands, he knew that it was not a life meant for him. He was what the gods had made him to be - a weapon honed for a singular purpose.

Killer. Monster.

The dark tide inside him rose up again. He tried to swallow it back down but it only formed an aching lump in his chest.

"Where is home for you, Kratos?" The sound of his name in her mouth sent an unwelcome shiver through him.

"Far from here," he said, shifting his focus away from her and back to the task. Faye wasn't put off by his dismissiveness.

"What do you call your native tongue?" Faye asked but Kratos pressed on in silence. She was asking the same question with different words. They were all roads to the same destination. Who are you and why have you come to this land?

"I am skilled with languages. I could learn some if it would ease our conversations," she pressed.

Kratos slashed at a cluster of brambles blocking the way forward and considered. He supposed it would do little harm to at least tell her that. If stories of the Ghost of Sparta had reached this far north, she would have already had enough reason to put him down when they first met. And it would be a small comfort to speak to someone in his own tongue. It had been a long, long time since he'd last done that. He thought of the last words Athena had spoken to him as she drove the Blade of Olympus deeper into his abdomen.

"Me apogoitéveis, Spartiáti," she had said. You disappoint me, Spartan.

The pain had been all consuming. Kratos managed a defiant snarl in reply before Athena tore the Blade from his body. His vision went white as he fell back against the hard stone of the cliffside. He laughed, lying there with his blood pooling around him. At last, he would free from his torments. There was pain, but then... relief, as he breathed out his last, ragged breaths.

Kratos shook himself from the memory.

"It is called Hellenike," he said, "From the land of Hellada."

Kratos turned and waited for her to catch up. Faye narrowed her ocean blue eyes as if she was waiting for him to reveal some kind of ruse. Then a smirk broke the seriousness of her features.

"I would like to know more about your homeland, Hellene," Faye said with surety as she strode forward to meet him.

"Hm," he grunted. Of course she would. It was an answer that left a craving for the ever-curious hunter. For a while she seemed to be sufficiently distracted by the patrol. They walked side by side and ccasionally Faye would make mention of a predator's tracks or pause to listen to the whisper of the trees.

Then she prodded again.

"Will you tell me?"

"No," Kratos replied sharply.

He couldn't tell Faye about the snow-capped peaks of the Taygetus range or the lush olive groves without telling her how it all came to ruin. He couldn't tell her about his home, his family, without telling her how they'd died by his own blade. One question after another with Faye and she would know his past and know what he'd done. And though Kratos did not doubt Faye's wisdom, he knew she would not be able to reconcile his actions.

There was still the longing to tell her, speak to her in his own tongue, and release himself from the torment of his secrets. As if by telling her, that far away place was resurrected from the ashes. It was a fleeting, selfish, thought to foist the burden of his memories onto the hunter.

A look of disappointment crossed her face at his harsh refusal. For a moment he thought he felt her presence against his mind. Like the invisible tether he shared between her and the axe. Then her look darkened. Kratos was reminded that she was like the scorpion and he waited for her poisonous barb. The lash of her vicious tongue.

"The ravens in the Northlands are bad omens. Do not speak to them. Do you understand?" Faye said, all her mirth and wonderment gone. Replaced by that grim, viciousness of hers. It felt like punishment. Who was this woman to him anyway? He owed her no obligation to his secrets and she would not absolve him of his sins.

"I understand, kynigos," Kratos said. Faye cocked her head at the word, confused. But then her lip quirked with a hint of that smile.

"It means: hunter," he added and led the way back to the camp.

FAYE

The Hellene was always so careful with his words. He dolled them out like precious, limited resources. Other times, they were delivered like the precise, calculated strikes of a sword. Seeming to have spent his limit on speech, he was as quiet and gloomy as the darkened skies as they made their way back. It was tiring work to draw out more information about him. And the more her revealed, little by little Faye was forming a clearer image in her mind of who Kratos was.

At the same time, Faye felt like a hypocrite.

She understood his particular kind of lonliness but she could never reveal her secret. That fact alone kept her isolated.

Faye thought these past ninety winters were her first years truly spent alone. But with the wave of new memories, she realized she had been alone long before she came to Midgard. She had not meant to be so solitary, not at first. But when she was alone she wouldn't hurt anyone else. She alone would suffer the consequences of her actions.

There was so much she had forgotten and still her mind was like a shore wiped clean by the tide. Details emerged slowly, murky and strained. With Faye's own people gone, Farbauti was the only other being, besides her enemies, that understand the eternal echo of immortality. He knew the weight of watching all those he held dear extinguish long before he could join them. His wife. His daughter. Everyone, he'd said. Everyone. How did face down the length of time without them?

Faye always thought she'd have the time she wanted with Yrsa to live the life they never got to have. Faye had her time now, but without Yrsa, without anyone - it felt pointless. Faye didn't know what twist of fate had decided that she should live while everyone else she loved died. For a long time she thought she'd live all the years that they left behind. But Faye didn't know how to spend eternity in a way that truly mattered. What did it matter when everything else would be washed away in fifty years, a hundred, more? Mortals didn't waste their time, they had so little of it.

When they approached the camp, the clan members had gathered to sulk under their tents gnaw on leathery dried meats. The day had cost most of them their energy and they would need a good night's rest to make up the time they lost. Faye prepared a tent for her and Farbauti but he was already leaving to take the first night watch.

Watching Farbauti, she was reminded of words once spoken to her by the previous possessor of Groa's gift.

"Maðurinn sem gengur sinn eigin veg, gengur einn," Runar had told Faye, as it was told from every predecessor to their successor.

The one who walks their own path, walks alone.

Faye knew they each had their own path to walk, their own burden to carry through the endless years before them. Still, Faye felt a gnawing, desperate fear to cling to the only other being that understood that impossibly.

Better instincts took hold in Faye. Though she felt a kinship with Kratos, he was still dangerous. He was a survivor, and he had nothing to left to fear.

He was a god with nothing left to lose.

ELSEWHERE

The raven and his flock returned to their master with one less among their number. Svana held her arm aloft for her raven to perch. He held a strip of cloth in his beak and offered it to Svana with a low cooing sound. He dropped the strip of cloth in Svana's open, waiting hand. The moment it made contact with her skin, her lips curled into a wolfish smile.

God's blood.

The power of it tingled against her skin. She pressed the cloth to her nose and inhaled deeply with a growl rumbling in her throat. She pulled away, dizzied by the intoxicating scent.

The witch threw her head back and let loose a high-pitch howl. The hollow, somber sound echoed across the settlement. Reavers stilled and reared their heads where they stood while the prisoners shook in their cages, falling silent and clinging to each other.

A number of reavers strayed from where they stood, following the sound as if entranced. They were the chosen, the elite among White Wolf's tribe and they could not ignore the call of their alpha.

Svana's warriors gathered inside the hall and knelt before the straw-made icon at its center. Svana walked past each one of them, offering them the strip of cloth from her open palm. Their pupils expanded as they inhaled the scent. Bodies quivered with the excitement of a blood frenzy.

Svana stood before them and stretched out her hand.

"Ekki meira hefur þú mannslíkama. Verða úlfur."

As she spoke the incantation, the bodies of the warriors shifted.

They fell forward, convulsing. Claws sprang from their fingernails. Thick tufts of dark fur emerged from their skin. Bones cracked. Limbs lengthened and snapped into inhuman angles, tearing through their clothes.

They reared their heads back and screamed, their voices twisted in their changing throats. Screams became howls.

What stood before Svana was no longer human. They had become something else. Taller than any full grown Northman and covered with a black sheen of fur and eyes turned dark and beady with bloodlust. Their skulls had become canine with maws full of long ivory teeth that could snap a man's leg in two.

They'd become half-man, half-beast. The northernfolk called them wulvers.

Svana strode forward and reached up to caress the muzzle of her lieutenant.

"Bring him back alive," Svana commanded.

"Do not fail me."

[grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales]

Balkan Bestiary: Vodenjak

This creature is a one that is famous among all Slavic people, from Montenegro to Czech folklore. It is aquatic demon that haunts freshwater sources, and while not completely evil, has rather annoying habit of drowning people, so, they aren’t obviously most well regarded spirits out there. As always, there are many different versions, and I will be focused on Balkan stories.

Vodenjak means, more or less, ‘’the watery one, the waterling’’. It is a connected and similar creature to West and East Slavic vodyanoy, which means ‘’the waters one, he from water’’ and utopielec/topnik, which means something along lines of ‘’the drowned one’’. If you search over internet for more info on these creatures, these will result more info than Balkan spelling of vodenjak.

How does this spirit ( always male) look? Well, more modern accounts portray them as fishlike or amphibean, appearing like man with algae green skin, gills, and webbed fingers, or in some cases like an actual triton or merman. This seems to be influence of related vodyanoy legends, in which said creature looks like froglike man, and influence of anglosphere dominated pop culture, which imposes it’s depiction of mermaids upon nearly every water spirit ( cranky grumbling inserted here.)

In Balkan lore, at least one I read and encountered, vodenjak looks mostly human, with certain exceptions- such as having too large nails and too hairy, like wild man, or being naked with long untamed hair, or having bloated face and purplish skin. This is all result of fact that vodenjak is traditionally the unquiet spirit of drowned man ( usually criminal or sinner) who drags others to his fate.

Vodenjak can inhabit any source of water, including lakes, marshes, rivers and similar, but his favourite dwellings are water mills- in Balkan folklore, those places are liminal locations, deeply connected to demons and other sinister forces. Vodenjak mostly comes out at night to drag his victims to grave, but can also trouble people during day, doing stuff like breaking dams and stopping fishermen from catching fish, so he must be appeased with offerings.

There is belief that there can only be hundred of vodenjaka in the world. Ninety nine are drowned men turned in spirits, and the last is their leader, who is known as ‘’The Water Spirit’’ or ‘’Old One’’ or ‘’Grandfather’’, whose name Tartor is taboo to speak of. He appears as an old man with long white beard, sometimes lame, sometimes stronger than human ( and according to some claims, with fish tail perhaps). He is powerful and elemental spirit, sometimes equated with folkloric Devil, sometimes seen as corruption of pagan divinity, sometimes portrayed as embodiment of water, sometimes psychopomp like figure who guides souls over sea to afterlife.

He lives in a marvelous palace made of crystal, at bottom of  sea or whirlpools, attended by rusalki ( female drowned spirits sometimes similar to sirens and nymphs, who can easily be seen as female counterparts to vodenjak), who may be his handmaidens, but are also sometimes said to be his daughters. The Water Spirit drags men down to water, and then he makes them his servants and marries them to his daughters, and cruelly mistreats them, up to frequently whipping them, and leading them to hunt down others ( to which they may agree as, outside of resenment towards living, they may be released to afterlife once number threatens to surpass ninety nine).

The Water Spirit can sometimes make bargains with humans. It will take men on as apprentices and aid them in their desires, but will always drown them and betray them. Women can earn favours from him by becoming his lovers for time, and learn witchcraft. He may also be connected to The Forest Mother, a tutelary spirit of woodlands that may be either queen of rusalki, or one of chief fairies.

[welcome-to-afterlife]

In honour of Kirr’s birthday, could we have a scenario of him celebrating it with the manager?

Not gonna lie, this one was a bit rushed because I was trying to finish it before his birthday was over. Nevertheless, hopefully you don’t think it was too terrible as it was my first fic/secnario on here! Let me know what you think.

The manager leaned against her chair, skimming through Kirr’s files. Nyang Lead Manager wanted Kirr to join the Hesperide team as his experience in the wilderness would be useful for the team’s mission-- purifying a violent soul that lives in a secluded forest. The cat asked the manager to look over Kirr’s files to ensure there was no conflict with his other missions. As she glossed over the page, the manager noted the various dates of his upcoming missions, but she almost missed the most important date of all. Kirr’s birthday was printed at the top of the page in a small, neat font.

 DOB: July 28.

The manager’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head.  That was today! However, she hadn’t heard anyone mention Kirr (let alone his birthday). Was this a typo? Or did Kirr dislike celebrating his birthday? Maybe he had forgotten about it? Although the manager wasn’t sure about his reasons, she knew that she had to do something for the reaper. After all, it was her job to make everyone feel welcome at the 14th Department. What kind of manager would she be if she forgot one of her reapers’ birthday?

To gather some more information, she called the rest of the Noctu team. The manager asked a bunch of questions to Nine, Day, and Atachi, but none of them knew anything about Kirr’s birthday. He never mentioned it before. Although the team couldn’t provide any information, they were interested in helping the manager organize something special for him. After some brainstorming, everyone agreed on hosting a small party at the end of the day. 

However, there wasn’t much time. There were less than five hours left in the day. To create a decent party in a short period of time, the manager needed Ell’s help. She assigned him to go with Day to buy party decorations that suited Kirr’s taste. Afterwards, the manager and Ell would hang up the decor while Day and Atachi distracted Kirr by keeping him out of his room. Nine would bake and decorate a few desserts (including a chocolate marble cake). While the manager insisted on having another person help him, Nine assured her that he would be fine by himself. 

To everyone’s dismay, the plan went smoothly. While Day and Atachi ran into a few hurdles while trying to distract Kirr, the manager stepped in and sent the group on a wild goose chase. Nine was finished within three hours (while creating a fairly decorated cake) and Ell was able to set up the decorations with no issues. Everything was ready by 10 PM, which gave them enough time to celebrate.

Everyone sat in Kirr’s room, waiting for Day and Atachi to bring him in. Although everything was complete, the manager was still nervous. Were the decorations too flashy? Should the cake have been three layers instead of two? What if Kirr didn’t like parties? All their hard work would have been for nothing if Kirr didn’t want to celebrate. She should’ve asked him about it before planning the entire party. But it was too late to turn back now as Kirr’s voice could be heard from the hallways.

“Quick everyone! Get in position!” Ell said.

As he entered the room, everyone jumped out to their feet and shouted, “Happy Birthday!”

Kirr glanced around the room. “What’s all of this?”

“We wanted to throw you a birthday party. Since you’ve never talked about your birthday, we weren’t really sure how to decorate your room or what type of cake you like. Honestly, we weren’t even sure if you celebrate your birthday, but we hope you enjoy it!” The manager said.

For a moment, Kirr was silent. “A party for my birth? Why is that necessary?”

The manager spoke. “Because that’s the day you were brought into the world. If that day didn’t exist, we wouldn’t have you. So that day is extremely special because it’s your day.”

He wasn’t sure how to process everything. Kirr had never celebrated his birthday before because he was too busy trying to keep himself and his brother alive. He never paid much attention to such trivial matters. Every day he’d wake up with the focus of scouring for food, protecting his brother from traps, and making sure that they had a place to live. There were small gems throughout those times, but his birthday was not one of them. His birthday was like any other day, blurring with all the other days in the year into one massive fight for survival. 

But that didn’t matter now that he was dead. It felt strange, but he was in a stable position. He did not have to worry about death lurking at every corner. He had a new family that had his back through his toughest times and a wonderful manager who guided him through his trials. Never would he have imagined that he’d be standing with these people, celebrating something as silly as his birthday. Yet a surge of warmth spread from his chest to his fingertips, twisting his lips into a small smile.

“Thank you. I never had the chance to celebrate such a holiday when I was alive, so I really appreciate it.”

“Brother Kirr, you have to try the cake! Brother Nine made it, so it’s going to taste amazing!In fact, you should have the biggest slice!” Day shouted, grabbing the knife next to the cake.

“Wait! Let him blow out the fires on the candles!” The manager said.

“Fire? Where’s the fire? We need to put it out!” Kirr’s body tensed as he searched for scorching flames.

“No, not that type of fire. Look here.” The manager pointed to the small flames sitting on top of the birthday candles. “It’s a custom to make a silent wish and blow out these small flames on the candle. It’s supposed to make your wish come true.” 

Kirr stepped closer to the cake, inspecting the tiny flames. “So does this mean I don’t need to fill up my kaleidoscope?”

The manager laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Making a wish doesn’t actually guarantee that it will come true, but it's a nice little superstition. Make sure you keep your wish to yourself though, or else it definitely won’t come true.”

Kirr stared back at the candles. While there was no guarantee that his wish could come true, it wouldn’t hurt to try (according to the manager). Filling up his kaleidoscope would take some time and there was no guarantee that he’d fulfill his wish the way that he wanted, but this small superstition was better than nothing. So with his wish in mind, Kirr closed his eyes and blew out the candles. 

“Alright! Now it’s time for cake!” Atachi pumped a fist in the air and took the knife.

“Let me do it.” Nine took the knife from him, cutting a slice of cake for Kirr. “Have a taste. The manager said you enjoyed the energy that came from chocolate, so I tried making a chocolate marble cake.”

Kirr took the plate of cake and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. He recognized that familiar over-the-top sweetness from the chocolate that the manager had gifted him from his earlier days in the afterlife, but there were different variations. But the thick, creamy, decorative glaze at the top of the cake was the best part. It was still too sweet, but he never tasted something with such a creamy texture. He could feel the energy coursing through his veins. 

“What’s this pretty, creamy thing on the top of the cake?” He asked.

“You mean frosting?” Nine responded.

“Yes. Frosting. For my next birthday, I would like to have an entire cake made of frosting.”

“Just frosting? That’s gross and way too much sugar!” The manager shook her head.

“I agree. It’s too sweet, but I like the feeling in my mouth. Maybe adding salt would make it better? I would like to try it for the celebration of my death day since my next birthday is rather far away.”

Everyone stared at him before erupting into laughter. 

Kirr blinked. What was so funny?

“We don’t celebrate death days because we don’t know when we will day. Remember, this is a celebration that was started  while you are alive. Although, that would be an interesting idea….” The manager trailed off.

“Ah, I see. But I would still like that salted frosting for my death day.” Kirr said.

The group erupted in another fit of giggles, leading to a night of laughter and new beginnings.