#like trapped in a cage of thorns hint hint

[chernabogs]

Malleus' immediate response to learning of Lilia giving a portion of his life for Malleus'—arguably one of the most sincere acts of love someone can do for another—being that of violence and a blind want to enforce into reality his own perception of what he believes Lilia's happiness to be is one of the most tragic things yet

[werezmastarbucks]

dreams: washington

the dreams continue, and now Kai gives a hint. too bad you lose it.

word count: 1279

warnings: uh don't read if you're scared of inaccurate forest fauna descriptions

kai parker x reader

dreams masterlist

You'd always dreamt to go to these woods.

But now it was a search, not a light walk. You started to get used to these dreams a little. You now half realized you were dreaming. You got the ability to understad you had no ticket to go to Washington, and you'd never do it anyway.

The search was for the key of the dream. What's in the forest? Scanning it from above, like a bird, would be much, much more convenient and way faster. You stood in one place and closed your eyes, trying really hard to turn into a flicker. Did not work. You had to use your legs.

The mist was licking the slope of the hill that was left behind your back. In a tragic funny turn of events, you thought that Damon would be of use here. He'd smell anything that's off, and carry you on his back. He could have predicted an attack from a cougar. You did not know if cougars lived in Oregon, but in your ignorant dreams, they might as well.

Deeper into the forest, it was all blue and grey. The pine trees, silent like stones, as the mist penetrated their cages of gatherings, too heavy to fly high. It was slithering on the ground and trying to lead you away, away, into the chasm between two hills, to make you fall and break your legs.

The air was humid and cold. It made you think of wolves. Somehow, wolves seemed even scarier that cougars. They were lowkey, vile, wild. They symbolized loneliness of the grave that never moves anymore.

The cracking under your foot made you realize you took upon the path of mushrooms. Following their deadly pale heads, you tried to recall what the mushroom roads meant. The witches? The trolls? Fairies? Oxalis grew on the sides and made your mouth fill with saliva. Regardless of the air, and the flare of the place, you weren't cold. You weren't scared of the predators; just a little worried something would eat you before you reach the destination.

You tried to imagine what kind of creatures this forest harboured. Looking around, it seemed like the mountain was very high. The valley downwards hosted werevolves for sure. They lived there in packs. Up here, who knows. It must be something tall, something white like toadstools. Something with big blank eyes as if it lives deep under water. It was as quiet and empty here, as in the ocean. No sound, other than cracking of the shrooms, and the very subtle rustle of the mist wrapping itself around the trunks. The pine trees always made you feel alone. The branches grew so high it was impossible to hide among them. If something was tracking you from afar... you were a color spot. In your bright blue hoodie and with a human face. A loud heart, impatient. Up, up the hill even more.

As you walked, the morning came. Uneven light started shining through the thick clouds, but the thickets grew, too. Now, from time to time, you had to use your hands to push through. You could not identify these plants, all thin branches, no thorns, but still slicing your palms. The bright orange berries shone attractively, but you knew better. You imagined, should you eat them, you'd have blood foam leaking out of your torn mouth. Something chirped in the upper branches of the gorse, as if warning someone of your presence. That told you you were close.

Now, it looked more like Mystic Falls. No infernal blue anymore, but rich swamp green. Moss around, so fresh it almost gave steam. You started noticing bugs on the little branches, the wet leaves, drops shooting down on the waking grass. Something moved three steps from you, and jumped onto the tree. A very normal, fluffy squirrel.

You started hearing the voices. Humans, very close. You considered how rational it would be to approach them, and who could have been chanting in the middle of the forest, on the top of the mountain. So close to the death traps, chasms, hidden, masquarading as gaps between the roots of oak trees.

These woods seemed endless as you still followed the mushrooms, pushing the soft, swamp-like earth down. Maybe the voices were a scary illusion: you could now hear very clearly those were, after all, witches. But the way they chanted spells unknown to you, was more aggressive, more mysterious than what you were used to. It felt more like a cult. Like a group getting ready for something. It made you watch your back and scan the trees, but everything was monotonous green, and your human brain, having left the safety of the forests thousand of years ago, now took this secrecy as a threat.

In the perfectly rounded circle of dancing lindens there was a clearing with well-stomped grass. A group of people chanted there, and you came upon them as suddenly and you woke up in this forest in the first place. However, saying you 'woke up' would be incorrect unless we consider the world of nightmares a separate reality. Which, you thought, was more and more convincing.

Their leader gave a wave of a hand and everyone stopped at once. It's hard to describe a fright one experiences when a whole bunch of witches, all dressed in black, suddenly turn their heads and stare at you on command. You almost peed yourself.

He turned to you, too. And you did not know him, again. This old painful feeling of half-recognizing the stranger from your dreams. You could almost connect his face to other nightmares you had. Something about the plane... the sun spots... he was, in all his elusiveness, heartbreakingly attractive. Like someone whose photo you were supposed to have in a locket. Like someone you lost unfairly.

Now he was older. Dark shade on his chin told you he was more mature. Still, looking from the perspective of having his own coven, he was too youthful. But ah, you'd guess that's the glorious destiny of beautiful, evil, immortal creatures.

"I've been looking..." you started. The boy looked bemused.

"I must have sent you too far by accident. Haven't got ahold of the whole dream invasion yet".

Something cold slid down your spine.

"Dream invasion..."

You must have sounded like a puppet. He approached you and held your hand, surprisingly gently. He led you closer to the circle where dozens of pairs of eyes seemed to watch you with hostility. Some girls moved even. You felt uncomfortable as he held your shoulders, like you were watching the sunset instead of standing in the middle of a witching breakfast.

"Yes, sure. This one, it's not your dream. It's mine", he spoke really close to your ear, and your whole body itched for a second.

"And by saying a dream, I mean... not a night dream. My actual dream came true, Y/N".

The sound of your own name made you open your eyes really wide. His voice was incredibly familiar. Why do you never remember him like that?

"The power, the people, and me, being a dictator I am... you know... that is finally happening here, where I am".

"None of what you're saying makes any sense to me", you confessed weakly. "I don't even know you".

You couldn't let your guard down as you stared at the silent witches.

"Now, when I come back, I will have everything I need - you, and my own coven. I'm a pretty humble creature".

"You just said you were a dictator..."

Suddenly the witches cheered in awful, scary voices. The yell was so loud and unexpected that it made you wake up, for real, this time.

You sat in your bed screaming in horror, realizing you had had yet another nightmare about Kai. But you did not remember a single thing you'd seen.

[csmelody]

haunted

Welcome to my (mad) attempt at finishing all the prompts for Bart prompt week 2023. These will all be drabbles because I am married in all but proper paperwork to TLA. Also, I’ve never read or watched Lockwood & co. Please don’t spoil me, I’ll be forced to haunt you for life.

Read on AO3.

fandom: Bartimaeus Trilogy

rating: teen

pairing: bartnat if you squint

day 2 - day 3 - day 4 - day 5 - day 6 - day 7

Day 1 — haunted

Thorn Manor had long ceased to house mirrors.

The master and mistress of the ancient London home, motivated by a scare with scrying mirrors a few years back, had decided to take the drastic approach and save themselves the trouble in the future. Built for intimidating whoever dared to stand at the gate, the estate donned watchful gargoyles, black iron gates and fences two metres tall, trees with gnarly branches, unkempt bushes filled with blood-red roses clad in thorns.

So it was no surprise that rumours of a haunting presence began circulating soon after the scrying disaster.

At night, while master and mistress slept, a lone human figure could be seen strolling—nay, floating—from third to first floor before it again vanished from sight. Every night the same. Some claimed it had to be the ghost of a child, somehow forever trapped in this mysterious building. Others would swear it was too big to be a child—a young man seemed more likely. As the living occupants of the house were rather tall, or not the right species at all, they were quickly discounted.

Regardless of how often and however Mr and Mrs Thorn attempted to dispel the rumours, they had taken a life of their own. But neither believed them. And neither was bothered. Magicians attracted too much attention; it was a profession with high social demands. Having to entertain fewer guests was not much of a loss. And managing to survive in a haunted estate did wonders for their already healthy reputation.

On it went.

As the clock struck twelve, as the human residents dreamt, and as the hearth drew its last breaths, the cat jumped off its place on the windowsill. But paws never landed on the crimson carpet, only two bare golden feet, held by knobby knees and thin thighs. Two moles on the thin neck, two otherworldly amber eyes. A faded scar cutting beneath the chin. Dark hair fashioned in a style long forgotten. The boy padded across the room, a slim, bony hand turning the copper doorknob.

And the ritual began.

I moved through the long corridors of Thorn Manor, dim light casting long shadows. Varnished banisters and carpeted stairs awaited. Past windows I strolled, past dozens of dark oak doors left unopened for many a decade, ancient dust clinging stubbornly to every nook and cranny of the estate.

In the morning, the rumours would reignite. But the night was mine alone.

Thorn Manor had long ceased to house mirrors. Yet, a magician must always be prepared. Some creatures would only be defeated by a reflection. Others needed it to stay.

One room held them all, from the tallest, full-body piece to the tiniest hand mirror. Oval, rectangular, round, or square-shaped, with simple wooden framing, or the most intrinsically complex metalwork. The room vibrated with their biting coldness, hints of incense, rosemary and thyme still claiming this space as their own, where magic had once bled from every wall. But master and mistress seldom visited anymore. The summons could be done elsewhere.

I matched my footsteps to those on the floorboards, dust and cat hair delineating the day-old tracks. The lithe body was ideal for moving between mirrors, feline reflexes keeping me from touching any of them. In the centre, a circle. Or rather, a faded pentacle outlined by inward facing mirrors. And in all of them I saw him.

Pale skin, raven hair, thin body caged in a black suit so tight it would have asphyxiated a less stubborn man. The magician in the mirror adjusted his cuffs, blood-red lips set in a stern line, brow permanently vexed. Deep burn blue and a signal fire in his eyes. And a voice that had been silenced five decades prior.

“Hello, Bartimaeus.”

[theodora3022]

His bird in a gilded cage

Yandere! Malleus Draconia x reader

Summary: Unrequited love has driven the Fae Prince to the point of insanity. Malleus will not allow you to be with anyone other than him at any cost. Even if that means having you despise him, even if it means taking drastic measures to make you remain by his side.

A/N: Ah yes, the long awaited piece of the possessive dragon lord. Nothing explicit NSFW in this as always since I do not write about these potentially trigger topics to get off. Inspired by @deceitful-darlings 's this concept post!

Word count: 2.1k

Content warnings: SFW, imprisonment, past kidnapping, unrequited love(some angst involved?), forced marriage mention, forced turning mention(Human-> Fae), implied non-con, light breeding mention, AFAB reader(?, no pronouns but with use of "wife", "princess", suggested childbirth), light cursing (the use of "damned"), general yandere content, OOC if you consider yandere variant to be OOC I guess?

Disclaimer: This is not healthy love and is meant to make you uncomfortable.

To be like “a bird in a gilded cage” is to live in luxury but without freedom.

"A golden cage is still just a cage."

—Anita Krizzan

The canaries. Delightful little yellow birds with charming singing voices would certainly make your mood better, even just for a bit.

That is what Malleus Draconia had in mind when he listened to Lilia’s advice and purchased the creature for you. One of the finest of the breed, of course. His future wife and Queen deserve only the best. He had not once seen you being jovial in these castle walls once, which pains him so.

Although it was not so unexpected. You did not come to the Valley of Thorns out of your own volition. Quite the opposite, in fact. Malleus would be absolutely furious if someone were to whisk him away in the dead of the night and keep him by their side regardless of his wishes. Both him and Lilia had been impressed by your calm, level-headed reaction to all, and not much could get such a reaction out of that old Fae in this world.

Having Silver delivers the birdcage to your chambers certainly helped. It worked well.

Too well, perhaps.

To the point, he feels jealous of the creature now. While hiding in the shadows of the doorway to your drawing room, the observing dragon Fae cannot help but feel...

The citizens of his realm would be beyond shocked if they knew their crown prince secretly wishes to be a tiny, delicate pet bird right now. Merely because you are watching its performance with benevolence.

Its beautiful melodies soothe your soul, you have to admit that much. The cage is placed on one of the end tables in the drawing-room, with a maid assigned to take care of the bird’s needs. All you have to do is to listen to its calming serenades on one of the sofas nearby.

The long, dreadful afternoons in this gloomy castle are somehow more bearable with a singing golden fluff ball keeping you company. Yes, you do enjoy listening to it. If the goal of its existence was to lift up your spirits, then it has certainly met that.

But, how ironic of Malleus to give you such a present.

A bird in a gilded golden cage. Does he have a clue of what that symbolizes? Ah, you forgot that saying is foreign to this world. You let out a small chuckle mixed with a hint of sarcasm, leaning in closer to admire the goldsmith’s fine work of a prison.

The little thing seemed to notice your interests, because it ceased singing, proceeding to jump as close as the cage would allow, locking eyes with you. It has become comfortable with your presence over time, perhaps out of empathy. Since you too are trapped in a fancy yet inescapable cage.

A sincere smile crept upon your lips as you let the bird friendly peck your knuckle. The very expression Malleus has been longing for.

A shame, electronics are not available for him. Or he would just record this precious moment with the click of a button. Malleus would love to see this every day, one way or another.

If only you would look upon him with such warmth in your eyes. When was the last time that occurred? Feels like a century ago, back when you two were still on good terms.

As much as he would like to look at this painting-worthy scene for the rest of his life, Malleus has things to discuss with you today.

Some fake cough has always been his way of gaining your attention.

Taking note of his existence, you are quick to wipe any happy expression off your face. Sighing as if this is a tiring chore, you turn on the sofa to face the doorway, to meet his emerald eyes.

Every time he comes in, the singing would abruptly stop. Your guess is that the bird is afraid of the dragon Fae. So you decided to get a dark cloth cover for the cage for these situations.

“Is there anything you need?” You are using a bland tone matching that stoic face, without a trace of emotion. As always when it is necessary to speak to him or Lilia.

Malleus shakes his head slowly as if he feels frustrated. “My grandmother had been asking about the wedding date again. Apparently, she wishes to plan the ceremony herself.”

That again? Wow, had he really convinced himself that you care for such things. “And how does that concern me?”

“Well of course, since you are the bride.” Is this your new way of hating him now? Acting as if none of this affects you in any way? Weddings are supposed to be sacred and joyous occasions to both humans and Fae, Malleus would be lying if he said he is not looking forward to naming you his wife officially. To tie the eternal knot with his beloved princess and start a family with the apple of his eye.

“Whenever you like, Malleus. It is not like my opinion matters much to you.” Asking for your opinion on a wedding reception after he ignores your pleas for setting you free? He cannot possibly be serious. Picking up the uneventful adventure novel you were skimming through yesterday, you turned to the bookmarked page and tried your best to pretend he does not exist.

Few in this realm have the courage to ignore Prince Malleus Draconia. You are one of them, purely out of spite.

To say you are crossed with him would be an understatement.

Malleus had stolen you away from the love of your life and forbidden you from seeing him. If that is not cruelty, what qualifies as such?

Still hanging to your former crush? Has he not done enough to prove that he is worthy of your affections?

This is not the well-mannered, lonely Malleus you know.

“I just do not understand, what is that he has that I cannot give?”

With his royal status, the Fae could easily have dozens of women at his beck and call. Your options are far more limited in comparison. Yet he refuses to move on and let you leave.

You never understand why he is this obsessive with you either. Not that you ever would.

What is it that person can offer and he cannot? Why did you choose him instead of Malleus? Is the idea of marrying him that revolting to you?

He had treated you with nothing but utmost respect ever since your arrival. Feed you only the best meals and dress you in high-quality fabrics. Ladies in waiting and servants at your disposal 24/7, on top of the unrestricted access to the castle.

So, why are you still behaving like this? Acting like you want nothing to do with him, it is clear as day you do not love him in the slightest.

On the contrary, you seem to bear a certain amount of hatred towards Malleus.

Has he been too lenient and spoiled you too much? Does he need to resort to those…more extreme measures?

Maybe he should not have taken you away in the heat of the moment. But what else do you expect Malleus to do? Just stand by and watch you be all lovey-dovey with someone else? His brain had short-circuited when he overhears you reciting how you had kissed another on the forehead and they matter the most to you.

"Please, I need to hear you say it. Tell me you love me." The indifferent attitude hurts him even more than you getting upset. It almost feels mocking, how you look upon with pity, as if he is some grumpy infant throwing another temper tantrum.

“Do you want me to lie to you, Malleus? Because I could only do that.”

"No, I would not have it. You were made to be mine!" Not even empty words? You could at least pretend. After all he did for you.

Malleus wanted to do this the normal way. To court you as a gentleman should, to win your affection with loving gestures and gifts.

But at the end of the day, he is a Fae. A species renowned for taking what they want.

After all, as a dragon, being possessive of his treasures are ingrained in his very nature.

If you think you can achieve something by being this distant and insist on disrespecting him...

As much as he loathes to hear Lilia’s “I told you so”s, Malleus cannot think of any other ways. If the procedure goes well, he can have his dearest with him for the rest of his life, although the process will not be pleasant for you. He would rather not have you suffer, however that would also leave you no choice but to accept your rightful place, which is right here with him.

That stoic expression you wear so often for him is finally gone with him pinning your form down, by the wrists on the double sofa. One way to get some emotions out of you, albeit not his favourite way.

If gazes can hurt, he imagines he would have died countless times by now.

“What now, Malleus?”

“The transform ritual will be ready within two days.” You gulped, those words unnerve you to no end.

Feeling your figure stiffens under him, a whisper of protest arose in the back of Malleus’s mind when he thought about what he will subject you to in the near future. However, that small voice is quickly silenced by his overwhelming craving to truly have you to himself. Enough to make him overlook your fearful eyes and focus on inhaling your sweet scent.

Only this way, you will give up on those unrealistic fantasies about that person and finally devote yourself to your Prince, your fated one. Not that he worries about that person coming to “rescue” you, anyone with common sense would think twice before declaring war between their nation and the Valley of Thorns.

Is that stroke down your cheek an attempt of reassurance? A rather poor attempt, if you may comment. It is like he cannot feel your trembles.

Your true love could never bring himself to be this cruel. Unlike this monster of a man, he would never make you go through a painful ordeal for his own selfish needs.

If only you had been more careful with your words on that damned day.

“Worry not, my beloved. I have summoned the best specialist in the Kingdom, he will be fast and it will not hurt so much. Besides, I will be there with you during the entirety of the process.” You are not worried about the pain so much, more of the prospect of being turned into a Faerie against your will. Malleus knows it, but that does not concern him anymore. “You can freely use Fae magic afterwards! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

To be frank, you rather remain a magicless human with a short lifespan forever, if that means you can return to your love’s embrace. Even when you do obtain magic, you doubt it would be a helpful asset against one of the strongest sorcerers in all Twisted Wonderland.

But what can you do? Nothing.

Nothing within your powers can get you out of this horrifying situation, nor can you refuse when Malleus gently places you on his lap. At least you can try to block out his ridiculous layouts about how you will make a great crown princess to his people, and an even better, loving mother to his heirs. How he cannot wait to see them running around and would not mind them being a spitting image of you.

Children? Is he overloading your brain on purpose? That is indeed one way to bind you with him forever.

You are trapped.

Your captor may make your cage a literal castle, luxurious beyond your wildest imagination.

He could also shower you with endless gifts and attention, even take you out sometimes.

None of the above would ever change the fact that you are stuck here. Possibly for the rest of your life. With you becoming a Fae soon, that life sounds like quite a lengthy one.

Should you submit yourself to this unkind fate that has been dumped on you without notice? Be a good and obedient wife for Malleus and he would "love" you and cherish you. You will become his perfect doll and princess, living a privileged but breathless life.

Or should you risk it all for a chance to get out of his tightening grip? The price would not be light should the plans fail, possibly resulting in worse conditions compares to your present ones.

Unable to answer, you decide to shut your eyes and wish you are anywhere but here.

Thank you so much for reading. Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

[yandere-daydreams]

I neeeeeeeed more Hades and Persephone with their darling! Maybe a continuation of the last one, but it’s Hades’ turn with darling?

He’d have to steal his Darling away for that, wouldn’t he? Persephone is far from a demanding captor, but with how on-edge she is around Hades, it’s not hard to believe she’d be hesitant to leave the two of you alone. She deserves to be paranoid, at least. 

Part One.

TW: Minor Acts of Violence, Past Kidnapping, Current Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, and Mentions of Starvation.

~

Hades’ garden was the only place in the Underworld with sunlight. 

Well, ‘sunlight’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. There was no sun, no sky, no heat - there couldn’t be, not this far underground. But, there were slivers in the ground where rays of light spilled in, flowing down like sparkling streams of water and bouncing off of gemstones and smooth stone until the barest hints of their radiance reached the plot of land designated to buds that bloomed into thorns rather than petals, trees that’d bleed magma rather than sap, fruits of the dead that’d dye your fingertips red for days, even if you didn’t dare to pluck them off their stems. You couldn’t see it, but if you sat on the stone and closed your eyes, you could feel it, you could imagine the ghost of its warmth on your cold, frozen skin. You savored the garden. You relished the garden. You loved the garden, as much as you could love any part of your gilded cage.

You just wished you could enjoy it alone, for once. 

Hades was like a shadow. Persephone was easily dissuaded when you expressed an interest in venturing beyond the confines of her palace, but Hades was an aura, a chill, a pair of eyes you couldn’t shake or stop from prying into your skin more painstakingly than any dagger ever could. This was his domain, his kingdom, and yet, away from his throne and his crown and his mistress, he seemed more like one of the spirits he ruled over than a god cast off of Olympus. You’d long-since come to terms with it, hiding yourself away and holding your breath, limiting your movements, being as quiet and as still as possible in hopes of coaxing him out, as a hunter would for a timid fawn. Some days, it took a few minutes and others, a few hours. Today, he must’ve been feeling confident. Your lungs had only begun to ache by the time he gathered the courage to show himself. 

You kept your attention centered on the flower in front of you, as he approached. A translucent rose, jagged shards of glass curling around a crystalline core and emerging from a base of emerald, the edge of each petal just starting to blacken and wilt. A thought played on your tongue as Hades came to a stop at your side, as he muttered an affectionate greeting under his breath. You meant to return the gesture, intent on keeping your relationship with your captors as civil as it had to be, but you were already asking before you could stop yourself, posing a question you weren’t sure you’d like the answer to. “Will it die?” 

That seemed to catch Hades off-guard. He hesitated before he answered, his hands twitching where they were folded behind his back as he fought the urge to scan over you. You were almost thankful he was the more concerned of the two. Persephone would’ve clicked her tongue, pulled you into her side, and told you that they would, but that you also shouldn’t ask after such morbid things. At least Hades wasn’t so patronizing. “They will,” He confirmed, finally, his tone steady. “Eventually. They last longer than plants in the mortal realm, but I made them to be living things.” A pause, a bite to the inside of his cheek. “That comes with a certain set of requirements, unfortunately.” 

You shouldn’t have been surprised. You’d had to step over half a dozen shattered flowers just to get to this part of the garden, and you knew he wouldn’t design something that went against the law of nature he worked so tirelessly to uphold. “I’m a living thing,” You mumbled, the words barely audible. “Does that mean I’ll have to conform to your requirements, one day?” 

Hades didn’t see fit to answer, this time. “You haven’t been eating.” 

Technically, you haven’t eaten at all, not since you’re arrival. Hades had tried his hand at locking you in your room, raising his voice, making threats of what would happen if you didn’t take your meals with gratitude, and Persephone had gone on about how torturous hunger could be for an hour or two before growing frustrated and leaving you to wallow in your pain, but neither seemed to understand the notion that you’d much rather face the pangs and the aches and the weaknesses that came with starvation than accept the fact that you’d be thoroughly, completely, utterly trapped here for the rest of your now-eternal life. Among the dead, you had no appetite, no desire, no will. Not when the consequences of submission were so unignorable.

You wanted to stay warm far more than you wanted to make them happy. 

You must’ve been silent for a moment too long. For the first time, Hades let out a sigh, the man shaking his head as he turned to face you. His lips were barely turned downward, his brow furrowed in something more akin to irritation than rage, but it was the angriest you’d seen him, the angriest at you he’d ever been. “There’s no point in putting it off.” He didn’t make excuses, didn’t make it sound like submitting would do you any good, but that almost made it worse. Unlike Persephone, he knew he was in the wrong. Unlike Persephone, he didn’t try to make it sound like he thought he wasn’t. “You’re here because there are two people in the Underworld who love you more than anyone in the mortal realm ever could. By behaving like this, you’re not just hurting yourself, you’re hurting us. That’s not the kind of action you should be able to take without guilt.” 

“Because my pain is the only kind that doesn’t matter,” You replied, tearing your eyes away from Hades and forcing yourself to direct your glare at the ground, at the dull, shriveled jewels that littered the ground because he wasn’t kind enough to share his immortality with the creatures who needed it. You hadn’t asked for this. You hadn’t prayed for it, or begged it, or needed it, as much as he’d like to pretend you did. You hadn’t wanted it, and you refused to act as if you had. “You might love me, but I don’t love you. As soon as I get my chance to leave, I don’t plan on sacrificing it for a slice of a pomegranate. If that hurts you, then maybe you should be--”

He didn’t hit you, he didn’t lash out, but he didn’t have to. The iron-clad, ice cold fingers soon wrapped around your wrist were enough to stop you, enough to remind you that Persephone wasn’t the only deity you had to be afraid of, here. Reflexively, you snapped toward him, but you couldn’t help but shrink into yourself as soon as your eyes met his, grey and metallic and so, so wrathful. “I don’t want to hear a word of what you just said get back to Persephone,” He growled, his grip tightening, his nails biting into your skin drawing fresh, hot blood. If he noticed, though, he didn’t care, only pulling you forward as he went on. “There won’t be a second warning. If you dare to say something so careless to my wife, it’ll be her mercy you’ll have to rely on. I can guarantee you mine will be out of your reach, by then.” 

He let you go, scowling as you pulled your injured arm to your chest, not caring how the pooling blood might stain your clothes. You could only nod and avert your stare, your throat dry and your mind so blank, you almost forgot you’d ever thought you were capable of thought. 

All you knew was that, quite suddenly, the garden felt just as frigid as the rest of the Underworld.

[daemass]

@breakalxg​​ !

somber mornings were often spent by her lonesome, drawn to the window prior between corridor’s end  &&.  kitchenette where parish’s perishables stored feasts delight. a mug, brewed fresh from grounds long since met their fate, steams with the foreign scent of bittersweet hazelnut. caffeinated  &&.  a sugar addict, sarvente found fondness in the form of brown bonds between earth soil  &&.  what mortality deemed ‘coffee’. hm! heavenly, the biting divinity that roused attention drew from “dirty bean juice”, as she put it bluntly.

sarvente found her distant gaze pondering the sky’s palette, of smearing pinks  &&.  oranges coming to rise up the golden amber-glow of morning sonnet’s sun. the rise  &&.  fall of crested songbird’s gilded cage, of steady breaths fluttering free from glinting ribcage long since trapped her heaven-bound soul, fallen so far from its deigns, coiled to the brimstone of the planet’s crust. all she had even gleaned to earn was a chance for humanity to rightfully deem their place up above, where she  &&.  many others sought to judge them appropriately.

ah, those were the days. long before beastly sin  -  of greed for mankind became too heavy a burden to bear  -  before wings had been viscerally removed  &&.  cleaved from her shoulders. a shudder ripples down in vain memory, of agonizing blemishes spewing frothing boils like festering infections, oozing cadences of rot  &&.  garnishing immortality forever tainted by the planet’s inner depths. ah, hell. her new homestead, of iron-caste  &&.  deplorables, those long since devastated  &&.  worn thin by the wayward scorn of god. a lone sip of her morning beverage deters her mental vagabond, strays sarvente back to the path of holiness.

bitterness for the righteous aside, the nun feels her body pulse once over at the faintest hint struck in the air ;   like a chord, a harmonious linger of aptitude, of a soldier long since war waged  &&.  won. of ex-convict, her beloved thorn. gaze darts exceedingly overwhelmed, head jut from windowsill to peer out down the hall.                   there he is!                                       swaying with the weight of a body having just torn from slumber, staggering on half-dead to society  &&.  fully deceased in the presence of consciousness. he’s barely above the falter of sleep, of groggy treading clearly jaded for finding solace in the morning’s aphrodisiacs. food. he must smell the confections she had mustered for a suitable sit-down breakfast arrangement!

sarvente parts from her sunrise lighting, sweeps herself out in front of the lumbering giant, her breath stained with nutty aftertaste  &&.  the vacant wisps of chocolate creamer.   “ good morning, ruv! slept well, i hope? i made pancakes  &&.  strawberries if you’re feeling sweet this morning! ”   of course he wasn’t a HUGE fan of sugary substances, but he could manage for once. right? 

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (eventual Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

chapter 4 - the hag’s cabin

SFW, mentions blood and mutilation, around 2K words.

It was like he had snapped out of a bad dream.

A flash of red blinded him for just a moment, hand shooting up to cover his eyes as he stood up straight, fingertips dripping with blood that wasn’t his. He opened his eyes to a much clearer view of the woods, a pressure relieved from his shoulders, and a strange yet friendly face staring down at him with avid curiosity. Blood-tinted eyes watched him closely, an amiable smile on her wrinkled face. The hag’s skin was light enough to glow in the scant moonlight, spindly silver hair wild and framing her face in the most awkward of ways. He was reminded of Mother’s little game of disguise, the unassuming crone of riddles and wisdom.

Maybe it was Mother all along, and in that case, he better be on his best behavior. She was surely capable of it all, confusing him on the path and assuming the form of some horrible abomination; but why would she bother? She did seem genuinely surprised, perhaps even wary. Was this another one of her games to keep them all on their toes? To ensure obedience, another way of displaying her powers to remind him that even at his best, he was not an omniscient near-god. In her eyes, he was a second class citizen with a thing for tinkering that she kept around. A dangerous, homicidally inclined one, but a second class failure nonetheless.

The hag’s dirty clothes fluttered in the wind, the smell of death seeming to emanate from within her bones, strong enough to choke him. For a moment, he expected her to cackle, conjure up a staff made of bones to wave at him while she spoke her nonsense, telling him to repent and surrender to the Black God. Instead she laboriously extended a frail hand to help him up, blackened fingertips offering him no comfort.

“Come closer, dear, let us have a look at you.” She spoke at last, tender, almost motherly, her voice sounding like a legion of disjointed souls pooling together to form a sentence. She took a step in his direction when he did not answer, bones cracking with effort, frame barely supporting her own weight. It looked to him as if her every movement was torture, like she had been living on borrowed time for far too long and the earth had grown tired of waiting to reclaim her to dust. “Let us bathe you, take care of you.” Her words were sweet, her tone malicious. “Everything will be fine.”

Oh, yes, naturally. She looked like she had come straight out of a fairytale book, but surely it would all end up alright. It would all be fine, surely, him being bathed in a large bubbling cauldron with herbs and salt for soap, trapped inside a cage being fattened for later use in culinary endeavors. The fat on his body would be used for tallow, the skin for the shade of some lamp, the heart to power said lamp.

“Think I’ll pass.” Was all he could say through gritted teeth, barely a whisper in the dissonance of his thoughts. Her snicker was low and delighted, form fading away in a cloud of crimson mist.

The terror that had consumed him had disappeared just as quickly as it had taken hold, his racing heart and staggered breathing giving way to the burning rage and overconfidence he usually carried with him. He looked around for the yellow flowers Donna used to trick people’s minds, for any sign that what he had witnessed was an illusion. The snow felt real as he crushed it with his fingers, the wind caressed him just so to keep him alert and awake. Heisenberg looked down at himself to look for anything that might be amiss, a misshaped piece of fabric, a hue that looked off; he counted ten fingers, pulled back his sleeve to look at his wristwatch, numbers crisp and clear. Not a dream, not a hallucination. Sheer terror, like he had not felt in years, adrenaline pumping in his veins to make him feel alive after decades of keeping his nose just above the water. Despite it all, he felt light as a feather. In a way, he felt free.

He rose to his feet to take the path ahead, ducking to miss the arch of the twisted tunnel, holding onto branches and feeling like they held onto him in return. A mere couple of meters away, a crude fence and wooden gate separated him from a clearing he had never seen. Slabs of stone marked the way towards it, visible despite the icy landscape, their surface well-worn and freshly disturbed. Had the hag come this way? Would he meet a series of monsters that made him offers he could not refuse, like the tales Miranda had concocted of him and his siblings?

He knew the mountain held a multitude of paths and clearings, nooks and crannies untouched by man and lost to time, mazes and caves and all manners of things he had only read in old books of fiction. The villagers would always say there was much that surrounded them, not altogether pleasant, older than them, older than the bones of this earth. Monsters and spirits, legends lost just beyond the village gates. Even as a child, swallowing his fear like a bitter pill, he labeled them all fools, pawns in the hands of a cruel bitch who kept them isolated, a flock of tarnished sheep that would never break free of their bonds. And yet it seemed the joke was on him, was it not? Here he was, mother’s prophecy fulfilled, standing alone in the forest deep, lost like the child who ran away to pick berries, having just witnessed something he could not explain.

Heisenberg peered into the trees in silence, breathing labored and pulse too loud in his ears. He watched for eyes in the forest, long fingers that camouflaged in the tree bark. Silver hair mistaken for spider webs, humanoid shadows that tricked the unwary. All he sees is a curious hare that stops to stare at him before going deeper into the woods to find its den, all he hears are the sounds of the night and the forest alive at last.

The smell of rotting carcasses inundated his nostrils as he walked, a series of carefully placed, crusty wooden stakes protruding from the ground like sickly trees that refused to wither. Blood dripped and congealed at its base, the decapitated heads of lycans and samcas and moroaicas neatly impaled, but looking so alive. He could almost hear it, the groaning and stretching of broken jaws as they tried to break free. 

An incredulous smile crept up to his lips as he reached out to touch a nearby lycan’s head, skin soft and clammy underneath his fingers, veins protruding on swollen flesh. Sharp teeth and exposed gums, no doubt a lycan, and he is too slow to react when the creature bites down onto his hand and all but tears the skin between his thumb and index fingers. It tries to finish the job but cannot break free, just enough movement to open and close its jaw, and Heisenberg looks down in disbelief to his bleeding hand, to the monster that should have turned to dust.

He reaches for the hammer in a half-horrified haze, swings with full strength to knock the stake to the ground, amazed when all heads spring to life and groan at him in a last breath that would never end. His morbid curiosity has him bring the hammer over his head and down onto the earth, bones cracking with the impact as the failed experiment finally crumbles to dust beneath the metal. What kind of fuckery was this? The pain in his right hand felt too real to be an illusion, the blood dripping onto his boots too viscous to be a trick of the mind. His mind spun with theories, with curiosity. Before he leaves, he should confiscate one of these for further study at the factory.

Heisenberg could hardly contain his excitement as he vaulted over the fence, anxious for the next chapter of this night full of surprises. He expected a gruesome display; an altar proudly displaying a sacrifice, the hunched over beast he had met before munching on an animal corpse. The hag kneeling by the stream, washing bloody clothes as a presage of war and death. A circle of witches chanting in tongues and cursing his entire, nonexistent bloodline for generations to come. An enchanted maiden with a delicate bosom and sinuous form inviting him to ravage her innocence, only to eat him alive liver first in a fit of madness.

Instead he was greeted by a curious chicken peeking at him from a hole in the trellis of its coop, a tiny goat grazing by his feet. There was a horse, real this time, penned in and cozy for the night, oblivious to his presence. 

The small hoofed animal doesn’t seem bothered when Heisenberg grabs it unceremoniously, inspects its fur and hoofs and horns, pinches at its flesh for any hint of supernatural. On the contrary, the goat seems to enjoy it, tiny tail wagging rapidly as Heisenberg stares it down like one would an annoying baby that is too cute for one to be angry at. It seems almost sad when it is put back down onto the snow, gives Heisenberg a tentative headbutt and walks away in defeat when he ignores it to investigate the rest of the place.

A small cabin stood just beyond, green shingles on the roof and walls covered in clay, narrow porch and swinging front door, a light bleeding out into the night through the narrow window of the attic. Suspiciously innocuous. There were no chicken legs, it was not made of sweets, and instead of decay, what he smelled made his stomach growl in response. He would eat that damn black horse the moment he saw it again, leg first as he moved up his feast.

A delicate wreath of wildflowers adorned the red door, slightly ajar to encourage his exploration. He did not recognize the symbol drawn just beneath his feet at the threshold - was it a warning? A welcome message? Heisenberg made sure to remain perfectly quiet as he stepped inside, taking care that his boots would not squeak against the wooden boards. The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, the colorful woven rug a pleasant change from the bleak scenario of ice and death. He pushed the door all the way to reveal a room that was equal parts cozy and mysterious.

To his right was a wood stove, a bucket of firewood resting beside it, white ceramic kettle embellished with blue flowers whistling loudly on top. A shelf stocked with grain and spices stood just beyond, hooks with a multitude of pots and pans beneath it. The small kitchen also had a rustic counter and ceramic sink, cutting board and bone-white knife abandoned halfway through a large carrot. The small dinner table was set for two, a pair of teacups resting at the end of it. There was no sign of electricity, candles and lanterns of wrought iron working double time to ward off the dark of night.

He walked further in to to look at the rest of it, the diminutive living room that was also kitchen and dining area. The couch was a wooden skeleton covered in coarse fabric, cushions looking like they had patched a thousand times over. Somehow, they looked leagues more comfortable than any of Alcina’s fancy armchairs. Dusty tomes fought for space on a wooden stool beside it, candle wax frozen solid halfway over the edge onto the ground. A rickety ladder was almost hidden next to it, woolen socks overhanging one of the steps.

Right in front of him, on the far wall, was a sturdy brick fireplace, cast iron pot hanging over it, the tasty looking stew he had smelled from outside bubbling invitingly. A soft whimper alerted him to the presence of a furry creature curled up in front of the fire, looking compact despite its real size, oblivious to his presence and sound asleep. Heisenberg chuckled as he walked closer and bent down to pet it with a little too much force, the shaggy shepherd hound lifting its head to look at him in annoyance before busying itself with its nap once again, too tired to give a fuck about anything else. Craning his body to the left he peeked at the mezzanine, candle lit but bed empty. No one home, it seemed.

It was difficult to remain quiet when anger bubbled under the first layer of his skin; he was furious at his Mother and sister, at whoever had pulled the stupid prank earlier. He had been sent on a wild goose chase, had gotten lost in the woods, had bled his own blood and now stood inside a poor soul’s shack doubting every single thing that had happened this far. Even a man like himself had limits, however, and if he had simply stumbled upon a well-kept homestead of a peasant trying to live their life alone in the middle of the woods, he would leave just as quietly as he had entered. It was only fair, considering he, too, would do the same if given the chance. Perhaps his prey still wandered somewhere and he had gotten lost along the way, but it was time to go back to the road and hunt down the motherfucker who had almost made him piss his pants.

A couple more minutes and he would leave the forest, march up to Castle Dimitrescu and give Alcina a piece of his mind. Maybe he should climb up to the belfry, call everyone over and proudly display his limp dick as he twirled it around like a helicopter blade. Imagining the look of disgust in his sister’s face brought him some comfort.

“So this is the monster that lives in these woods, huh?” He asked the dog, half expecting an answer, with his back turned to make his way out.

“Oh, I am afraid that would be me,” said a woman’s voice somewhere behind him.

[zhonglishrine]

The Sky Is Too Far

Pairing: Reader x Nikolai Gogol x Fyodor Dostoevsky Note: Basically I’m trying to implement reader in Gogol’s love quest so it become triangle mess. Thank you for @fyowyn-writes​ and my friend Negin for beta/proofread this!

One of these days you might bleed your heart for real. Why? Because loving someone and having it unrequited is something is quite painful to bear. Like a cross that is forever burning inside your chest. But you already know, once you have signed the deal, seeing the subtle hints here and there, you should’ve known better than to hope for something so futile and impossible to grasp in the first place. However, you are still too stupid to believe and too naïve to think that he might spare you a little glance, looking at you back like how he did to him. Full of affection and attention— as an intimate friend, or more than that.

You never know how he truly feels for him, but hearing him talking about him is enough to tell you that.

Getting into a relationship with Gogol is never an easy thing since he wasn’t one to put any label for you and him. But you two were just that… having a dubious and questionable relationship from the start as he let you be the one to guess what you two are. Were you nothing more or less than a companion with benefits to him? Knowing Gogol, he is not one to tie himself with any commitment but that didn’t stop him from luring you with a bit of hope and whisper to you with his sweet words for his mere amusement. He enjoyed seeing your different reactions and all that surprised expression you make.

Behind his snickers and porcelain mask, he always led you to confusion as you kept searching for the answer of his riddles. Endlessly trying to catch up to him like stretching your hand up to the sky hopelessly. You are a flightless bird that cannot fly, and he is the endless mirage that you can’t touch but only can see from your invincible cage.

Just what are you to him?

That was the question that you always want to ask but too afraid to know. It stuck in your throat each time you tried to bring it up. Some things are better once left unknown, as the truth is bitter to swallow. However, you still wish if only you could do something, anything to win his heart, even if you know who has already occupied it.

Although, the said person did not reciprocate his feelings as well. At least, you can tell that as much.

But does Fyodor know about how Gogol truly felt towards him? For you, it was too plain and obvious to see, as he treasured him and had profound respect towards the said anemic man from the way he talked and the way he looked at him. And you doubt he was stupid not to see it as Fyodor is observant and nothing is left unseen to his eyes. Just like an omniscient God, he knows and oversees everything. However, that doesn’t mean that he would care for such petty feelings harbored towards him— every single person is just a pawn for him after all, a mere puppet that danced within the palm of his hand as he tugged on its strings.

That included you, and Gogol wasn’t an exception either.

As no one is special in the eyes of God since he treats everyone equally.   

Isn’t that what he hates the most? Isn’t that why he wants to get rid of it by losing sight of himself? However, it was still something quite entertaining to watch. Even he was extra hopeless in front of Fyodor. Restraining himself so that he would not appear too desperate. At times when he was frustrated although he didn’t openly display it, you are whom he came to. Either to talk or just to vent what he repressed. He dislikes not being free, he said so many times, and yet he keeps coming back to the same trap again and again and it binds him the more he was in it. In an endless circle of this never-ending wheel, unable to touch his moy d'yavol as he can only gaze from afar just like how you keep looking at him.

If only he would stop and look back for once, then perhaps you might reach him. But no, you never get that chance and he never bestows you that opportunity. Neither one of them gives that room to sort how they truly feel about. Too prideful and too egotistical to admit the truth, lest their weaknesses be uncovered and they appear vulnerable. 

And you can never understand what they are thinking. One is a man chasing down his path of Godhood, simply holding pawns in his hand, disposing them after they are no longer of use. He breaks them with bestiality prior to mercilessly tearing them to shreds, that is his melodramatic games that he likes to play with all the pieces he collected and salvaged. So beautiful Fedyushka, he graciously lifted his fingers on the chessboard without moving any muscles but he controlled all their movement from the shadows like a true ringmaster. Drawing the cards from the deck only for him to toss it aside and burn it in flames once he has figured it out. He set his own rules and he won his own game. That’s just how he is. A devil in disguise that swore to wipe clean the sinner from the face of this earth as if he was truly the God he proclaimed to be.

Another one is a clown, his whole life being a sheer joke and a satire that he parades around proudly with his maniac laugh. Playing his role as the Fool for his King and to entertain his audiences to satiate their greed. Fooling them all by the snap of his fingers just how magicians always did their magic tricks. But Nikolasha is always the sweet arlekin jester one, he knows what his audiences want to see and hear so he pulls them with his charms best with his gleaming grin. Magnificent and splendid he was, yet he never once wins against his Fedyushka in a chess or poker game or anything else. But you on the other hand, always lost to him even before the bet was at stakes. Always three steps behind as he keeps moving forward to chase his important friend that he claimed already too far ahead. And still, neither of you or him achieve what you truly want and are still caught in a stalemate. 

Why won’t he look at you, dear Kol’ka? Doesn’t he know that Fedya only manipulated and toyed with him? Fyodor wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice him even though he had claimed how Nikolai was one of his treasured subordinates. He knew how to pull the string of his words to temper with his chaotic mind. Like ivy tendrils wrapped around his heart as he was left at his mercy with every thorn pricking him within every inch. However, he still stayed, it was a poison he intoxicated himself with a perilous risk he was willing to take, yet even so, he is blindfolded by his sentiments, negligent to how they keep on hurting him. Maybe he just enjoys that thrill, the one that you weren’t able to provide him.

Oh, sweet, sweet dear Kolya. He is such a fool, really.

And you are no better either, wanting what you can’t have. It’s both tragic and pathetic, childish even. You know it already, but you can’t help wishing upon a connection solid as concrete. A little validation that there is something between you two. And it is never easy to spit it out after it has taken the root within your soul. Being attached to him when he gives you empty promises is a grave mistake. He has warned you so not to trust any of his clown words, and yet you keep falling for it, ignoring his blatant warning. So, who can you blame but yourself? Even when it hurts you piteously, as you are left unable to utter the words,  desperately endeavor to manipulate the surge of sentiments within you, those that are killing you slowly. You do love him dearly, and yet those are things that will hinder him to you. He never wants any personal feelings to be involved.

You two are similar to one another in one more ways than one; as  you were simply a grotesque reflection of his depraved desire. Perhaps, that is why he didn’t want to look at you? As  you both suffer from this torment but never bother to make it stop. Just how he never spares you a glance neither did Fedyushka do to him. Call this sentiment as one may associated with perversion, what makes it hurt there is the little reminder that left of his sanity and your will that you both are still a mortal being played by God and his destiny. You never had a place in the beginning for him and neither did he for him.

Love truly can make one blind, with one eye or not. However, it is too vast of context. His love for Fyodor can be described as a platonic one, or maybe it was twisted, a sentiment that consumed his whole mind. Fedyushka is the only one he set his eyes on, and all he wants is to prove that he can get rid of him so that he can be as free as a bird.

And it tugged the string of your heart whenever he kept reminding you of that fact. You were never of any importance to him, just how much Fyodor was with the way he treats you and the way he acts around Fyodor. It is too much of a difference with how his molten gold eye would lighten up and how enthusiastic he was whenever his Fedyushka was involved.

There is a little piece of your heart that you resent, the feeling of a tiny bit of jealousy with the unconditional treatment he gives him. You knew that he would do anything for him in a drop of a hat. What is different there to one that devoted themselves to the God that he actually despised? The duality of a man he is. If he cannot be honest with himself, what makes you think he would open up to you anyway?

You were tired, and it is mentally draining, you have scrapped your knees as you have fallen many times to give up chasing him. But whenever you see your darling jester again, despite all the bruises you had and how battered you are, you were still drawn to him. Again, and again, it was an endless chasing game in this labyrinth of a maze with no exit once you are in. 

And you wonder… are you truly okay with unrequited love? Was it enough if you can talk with him and hear his voice even when a single word that he speaks was not meant for you?

Dos-kun this, Dos-kun that. Always Dos, Dos, and Dos. Everything is always about Dos.

Keeping your smile in silence, you would listen to his prattle until he is done talking. But that always ached your heart the more you tried to mask your feelings. Really, Kol’ka, would it hurt if he talked about you a little? Sparing a thought about how you feel? Or was it too much to ask from him? Oftentimes you find yourself unable to say anything as you lost your voice in exasperation, holding back your tears from falling. Yet, you are stronger than to succumb to such reasons in lieu of coming across as vulnerable in front of him. 

But you still wanted to scream bloody murder to his face, however at the same times you were also too much of a coward to let him know how you feel. Whether he was too stupid or he simply did it on purpose to mess around, you can never tell. You could never read his unpredictable nature, for he is like storms that can bring a hurricane if he desires, and for all you know, he can then be sunny and bright, as though nothing had ever happened at all. It’s frustrating to play this game with him continuously. It hurt you, so painful just to pretend that you were okay.

Or maybe that is just how he is… truly free just like his true nature is. You look up feeling rather defeated with the game you never even once won. Nothing you could do to change him after all, as bitter as it was to admit it. He is just too stubborn for his own good as he keeps pursuing his goal. But in case you ever managed to do so, then he wouldn’t be the Nikolai Gogol that you have known. Despite all of his ignorance, he is still someone that has stolen your heart and you are the one willingly let him to have it. Stretching your hand up, you shield your eyes from the glaring sun. Narrowing your eyes to filter the sunlight, you wait until your vision gets used to it to see better.

The sky is too far indeed, and it is only beautiful just to solely watch and no more. Just like him. Perhaps, this is why you can only gaze at him from where you are, still unable to reach. 

Still, hopeless to wish.

[myarmsaretoolong]

Running Out of Time

Prompt #4: Running Out of Time - Caged

Word Count: 980

Warnings: Drowning

Synopsis: Tony came home to find Peter’s mask nailed to his front door, a note reading time’s running out taped to it. With the clock ticking, he fights to reach Peter before it’s too late.

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

“Mister Stark?” Peter’s yell ripped his throat raw as he hammered his fists against the glass. “Help, please! Is anyone there?” It didn’t give, didn’t even crack. Peter braced his back against the opposite side of the infernal cage and slammed his feet into the glass. 

Nothing. It must be laced with vibranium.

And then a trickle of water dripped down from the roof.

“Tony?”

* * *

Tony ran forward, his heart hammering with every step. This had to be the place that psychopath had Peter hold hostage. He’d sent Rhodey off to deal with him while he focused on rescuing the kid.

He found himself in a maze, literally. A mixture of spiked wrought iron fences and thick hedges of holly and rose created a series of twisting pathways, barely three steps long before he came to yet another fork in the trail. Deep red rose petals littered the ground, leading Tony further into the madness.

Frantically, he turned corner after corner, all too aware of how long had passed since he saw the note. Time’s running out, that’s all it said. That, taped to Spider-Man’s mask and nailed to his front door, was all it took to thoroughly rattle Tony Stark. His hands shook, knees so weak it was a miracle he was moving at all. The only thing louder than the blood rushing in his ears was the sound of his watch.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Peter?” He cupped his hands to his mouth, praying for a reply. “Kid? Can you hear me?” Straining his ears, he listened through the darkness. Only rustling of leaves spoke back to him.

He turned at random. There was no clue, no hint which way led to Peter and which way only took him farther away. Left, right, left again. Should he have gone right? Maybe he should go back? Was he just running in circles?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Rose thorns scratched Tony’s arms as he brushed past them in his haste. His legs screamed out for rest, though Tony wouldn’t grant them that until Peter was safely in his arms.

The sun had long since set. A full moon now visible overhead and casting the faintest of glow down to the earth below, surrounded by stars. Peter always liked the stars. With the Avengers Facility being out of the city, he’d often sit on the roof and just stare up as they shined down on him, uninhibited by the blinding city lights.

Right. Right. Left. Straight ahead-

Tony froze. Before him, in the centre of the maze, stood a wooden shed, slightly larger than the average size, and much taller. He flung the door open and raced inside. “Peter?”

A single light illuminated the room, and it took Tony’s eyes a second to adjust. The sight knocked the air from his chest. Peter stood, trapped in a glass cage, water already up to his chest and more pouring down on top of his head. His curls flattened against his face.

Peter hammered his hands against the glass, his mouth moving wordlessly. Tony hit the cage with his fist, “Peter! It’s okay. I’ll get you out.” He wasn’t sure Peter could hear him but hoped that he could. It took a second to realise that if Peter couldn’t smash the glass, Tony stood no chance. He stepped back and tapped the nanobot housing unit on his chest, materialising his suit.

The water reached Peter’s chin. He titled his head back to gain more time before it overwhelmed him, treading water. Tony raised a hand and levelled it at the glass, firing a shot from his repulsor. A minuscule spiderweb of thin, white cracks appeared. He shot again, and again, each hit growing the cracks a painfully small amount.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

By now, Peter had one cheek pressed against the roof of his cage, only seconds left to breathe. He took one gulping breath before being submerged. He floated down, eyes wide and fearful as his hair drifted on its own accord, cheeks puffed out, and hit his hands hopelessly against the glass once more.

Tony kept firing, focusing only on the fact that the cracks were spreading, almost covering the entire middle section of the cage wall. With every second that passed, Peter’s attempts at freedom weakened, his lips starting to tinge blue. Whether from the cold or lack of oxygen, Tony didn’t know. Probably both. Then they stopped altogether, and Peter’s body floated limply in the tank.

With an almighty yell, Tony strode forward and kicked, aiming for the dead centre where the cracks were most numerous. He put all his remaining strength into it, every last ounce he had put into saving Peter.

At first, he thought it hadn’t worked. Then the cracks started to widen, spreading further and allowing a dribble of water to leak out. The more they grew, the more water escaped. With barely a seconds warning, the glass exploded outwards and bounced off of Tony’s suit, water spilling out and cascading across the floor. Tony lunged forwards and caught Peter before he could get washed away, falling to his knees as his legs finally gave out beneath him.

The suit dematerialised. Tony tapped Peter’s cheek gently, whispering, “Come on, kid. Don’t leave me. Come back.”

Peter spluttered up water, Tony turning him to the side so he didn’t choke, and coughed violently, gasping in great lungfuls of air.

“It’s okay,” Tony soothed, rubbing his hand on the kid’s back. “I’ve got you.”

Weakly, Peter rolled back, his head nestled in the crook of Tony’s arm. “Hey, Mister Stark.”

“Hey yourself. You had me worried for a second.”

“‘M fine,” Peter mumbled, cuddling closer as he sought out warmth. He peeled his eyes open and met Tony’s loving gaze. “Can we go home now? I’m kinda hungry.”

Tony chuckled. “Of course you are.”

[damienthepious]

OwO lizards? on a tuesday? are we kissin em? not yet press f for damien

thorns that burst from my skull in the night (chapter 4)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Sir Damien, Rilla

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Canon Compliant, Prophetic Dreams, Alternate Universe, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings, (very mild suicidal ideation or at least. canon typical arum being reckless with his own life), Canon Retelling, (sortaaaaa)

Summary: Arum has always seen glimpses of the future in his dreams. This gift is sometimes useful, but more often than not it leaves him with more questions than answers. The dreams of the flowers are particularly unhelpful.

Chapter Summary:  Arum has seen this duel piecemeal in his dreams already. None of this should come as a surprise.

Chapter Notes: pst love you. Happy LKT! It's dueling hours let's just chillllllll. OH RIGHT. Chapter specific warning for canon compliant moment of injury lol.

~

Even this darkness is familiar.

Sir Damien runs, an attempt at pursuit, and Arum slithers silently behind, taunting and jeering as the knight leaps and swerves, and Arum is focused, primed, strangely hungry-

(gasping breaths racing heart crying out like song)

Arum was correct about the placement of the thistle-cage. Damien nearly trips over the thing, nearly falls right into the rat's fangs, and then he spins so elegantly before he fires-

The twang of a bow in the dark. Another memory manifesting, this night. Another piece of the dream falling into place, but then- was the noise not more musical than that? Arum cannot say, it is all so confused, and the knight is running again. Arum and the rat both give chase, above and below, and Sir Damien mutters to himself, revealing his position even further than his clomping human steps.

Damien evades Arum's traps, skillful and quick, though he cuts a number of his dodges rather close.

"Nearly plucked the little honeysuckle right out of his armor," Arum taunts, and-

(your arm honeysuckle sit still let me)

(gasping breaths racing heart)

(like this Arum let me show you how)

He is still distracted, damned flowers on his tongue, the ghost of touch on his scales, and he barely has any attention for Damien's words or his own when Sir Damien stops.

Damien stops, right in the path of the rat, a morsel ready for the devouring.

No. Arum stares, confusion and frustration making him clench his claws in the bark of the tree beneath him. No. This is- this is wrong. The knight does not die like this.

(pinned beneath)

"What? Why have you stopped?" Sir Damien does not die like this, and Arum's frill flares unseen in the dark. "The rat will kill you, you fool!" he barks, tail thrashing against the branches in agitation, because the dreams are screaming in his mind and Damien does not die (a prayer, before you) like this, he should not fall to so unworthy a test, he is meant for Arum's teeth and claws- meant to fall beneath Arum-

(bare one of your)

Damien does not die. The rat dies instead, rough and unpleasant beneath another trap, and Arum buries a twinge of sympathy for his creation, because the duel is still on and there are other traps to spring. Sir Damien is… soft. Manipulable. Prone to that rotten human habit of selfless concern.

Very knightly, Arum thinks with a sneer. Screaming through the jungle for his damsel, his Rilla, his prize to rescue. Shriekweed draws him in so easily, a frantic little moth to the flame, and it is such a simple thing to drop from the branches above, to position himself as Damien plucks the flower, to bunch his muscles and flick his tail and pounce.

He collides with the solidity of the knight's body and they both thud into the dirt and Damien's gasping breath sounds precisely like victory.

Victory, and Arum crows with it, taunting again, and Damien narrows his eyes, his lips pulling into a delicate frown, and Arum tries to pretend that he does not remember the shape of it already. He tries, but-

Arum already knows this feeling. Arum already knows Damien's shape, and his heat.

It is only pleasant as a victory. He reminds himself of that through the vague fog of the dreams. The sweet delight curling in his stomach is- is only that. Victory. The poet's frown does not pull on anything within him.

Prey. Damien is prey, panicked and nearly writhing. Arum can feel his heart.

His gasping breaths. His racing heart. Another echo pinned into reality, and Arum wants-

"You are-"

(petal-press against his mouth)

"-very close-"

(teeth against the soft skin of his throat, warbling breathless cry, but no blood, no blood, only-)

"-to me," Damien pants, his cheeks dark and hot and close.

"So…" Arum's own breath leaves him. The memory, the visions cloud his mind in a flickering show, pages turning too fast, and the steady heat of the human beneath him makes his already-quickened pulse trip faster. "So… I am," he manages, and there is no flicker of violence left in the dream-memory, now. No violence. Only heat, and touch, and terrifying softness, and Arum's body is sinking down, settling closer against Damien beneath him, and-

And with the hot reality pressed flush against him, Arum can no longer deny it. Can no longer deflect, can no longer dig his claws into dirt and pretend the symbol is enough. He wants what the dreams have shown him. He wants it, and he is terrified that allowing himself to want will be all the more painful, when the dream fades, and the universe puts him back in his proper place.

… his proper place, in which he is a monster, meant to kill this knight.

Meant to kill Damien, as the hot cheeked human pants close against him, and blinks up into his eyes.

"May I- say a prayer, before you kill me?"

Arum breathes, and his knives are in his hands, and his claws are sharp beside Sir Damien's warm, dark skin.

(you can't do it, can you)

Arum clenches his teeth. He growls, low and barely controlled.

(honeysuckle)

He can't.

"Bare one of your arms," he snarls, leaning back enough that Damien has room to obey.

Damien blinks, his expression too twisted with confusion to show any hint of relief. "What?"

(kill you but I)

Arum shakes his head, teeth still bared. "Just do it!"

Damien stares up at him, and his cheeks flush even darker as he peels back his sleeve, as he shows his fragile skin to Arum, and Arum flicks his tongue without meaning to and he is strangely surprised when he doesn't taste the scent of honeysuckle on the air.

He tastes Damien, instead.

He pulls his claws down Damien's arm, the bright scent of blood distracting him (blood and cloth and) as Damien cries out, and Arum knows that the Universe is not fair but humans have such a preoccupation with the matter regardless, so perhaps-

"There," he sneers, not looking as Damien clutches the wound. "Now we're even."

"But…" Damien says, and Arum pulls himself up from the dirt, breathing, moving back, attempting distance. "I thought…"

Arum lets his mouth run, barely aware of his own words. This choice is absurd, but-

So had Damien's been, yesterday evening. If Damien can claim the match was unfair, Arum can say the same. It is not untrue, anyway, even if fairness should be the least of his concern. Of course he would refuse to be called a cheat-

Not that the opinions of any other creatures matter one whit to him. No. Regardless, regardless, he has talked himself through the circle and it is apparently enough to throw the poet off his scent.

"I think I see what you mean-" Damien interrupts himself in a cry that makes Arum's frill press tight against his neck, and the poet clutches harder at his arm. "My, those claws of yours are sharp-"

(blood and cloth)

Sir Damien does not die like this.

(and blood and cloth)

"And you won't bleed out on me, either!" Arum snarls, bending to pull his claws through his cape, this time, freeing a strip of purple cloth. Damien watches him as he kneels again, wide-eyed and wondering, and now-

Now Arum can taste flowers on the air.

"Delicate little honeysuckle…" he murmurs, and they are- too close, again. Too close. "A breeze could rip your petals off…"

A breeze could. Arum does not want to.

"But- you've torn your cape," Damien points out, his fluting voice going nearly sing-song, and Arum's teeth clench compulsively.

"And you stole your Queen's scarf!" Arum looks away again for only a moment, wrinkling his snout in something like despair. "Seems we're in the business of bleeding on priceless cloth. Now- hold still."

He wraps the bright fabric tight around Damien's soft skin before he can change his mind, staunching the blood, pretending not to feel the knight shiver at the touch of claws gone softer, this time.

Damien breathes, stares, shivers, as Arum ties off the makeshift bandage.

"… thank you, Lord Arum," he breathes.

Arum flinches, and then he bares his teeth, crowding closer against the knight in a threat.

"If you thank me one more time I'll tear your throat out with my teeth," he snarls, and-

(teeth against the soft skin of his throat, warbling breathless cry)

Damien looks-

(no blood, only)

Far less afraid than he should.

Arum watches Damien swallow, his breath gone shallow again, and Arum feels his own heart speeding. Damien is so- warm.

"I will… certainly keep that in mind," Damien murmurs, and the poet is close enough to-

Close enough to-

(try this)

A voice calls out through the night, reminding Sir Damien who he is. Where he belongs. A real voice, this time, and Arum rolls away from Damien with his heart still thudding too fast, and this evening- what almost passed between them, whatever it was-

A dream.

(I can't believe it's really)

Whatever feelings, whatever possibilities the dreams present, they are only fleeting. They will shred beneath Arum's claws as easily as his own cape. They will not support his weight- he cannot forget. He cannot allow himself to rest upon them.

Arum has seen one more duel. One more clashing of blades, to (remind you) break this tie.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow this will end, and one way or the other, Arum will have peace again.

[buttercup-of-kaer-morhen]

Of Thorns and Buttercups

~Ch 5/?~

(Beauty and the Beast AU, Kiiiinda. It has definite elements of the original story cause I’m a sap for Fairytale AUs. I hope you enjoy. Also shout out to @sophiakuso1 for being my beta. Here you can find Beginning or Previous) Geralt tries to figure out how to break the curse while battling with his feeling this time.

Note: Lew is pronounced Lef because it is polish just as a heads up.

Primary Tags: Beast! Geralt, Belle! Jaskier, Memory Alteration Via Curse, It really only affects Jaskier right now Also on AO3!

————————-

Geralt sat in the destroyed room that night after dinner, staring at the cage. He was specifically trying to not think about the fact that not only was the bard trapped in the cursed castle with him, but the bard also somehow lost his memory, most likely due to said curse… and it was all Geralt’s fault. The guilt swirling around in his chest was sickening and unwelcome. He just kept dragging the bard down with him. Geralt ran circles through his mind trying to figure out what he should do about the whole damn thing. After a while, he decided that it would be better at that point if he were to just stay away from the man as best as he could. If he did, then Jaskier would slowly realize he was wasting his time on a monster like Geralt, just like on the mountain. Geralt just had to figure out how to get Jaskier past the thorn vines keeping them imprisoned, but the witcher had a sinking feeling that it would require the curse being broken.

Geralt sighed, finally looking away from the silvered metal vines trapping the cluster of buttercups and realized the moon was high in the sky, much further in its journey than when he had fetched the bard to eat. It felt like he was not only losing time, but it also couldn’t move any slower. Watching the clock or trying to solve a problem in his head to pass the time was like watching tree sap drip in winter, but if he got lost in his thoughts, it flew by without him realizing. The memory of the almost completely dead rose and the warning of petals falling had dread creeping up his spine. He had a limit on his time, whether it was choosing to go fast or slow, until who knows what would happen, and it was all very similar to waiting in a dungeon for his own execution. Except this time, he had a bard to drag to his death with him and he had no idea where to even start to try and stop it… Except the weird journal! 

He wanted to smack himself for almost forgetting about its existence. He quickly collected the small book again and settled back onto the edge of the bed. He first flipped through, discovering that it was a journal of someone of the castle rather than magical notes or something of actual use, and oddly enough it only had the first few pages written in. Although it was just a journal, it reeked of magic, as did everything else in this place, which irked him a bit. Would nothing be easy?! A magical personal journal was most likely useful, but he didn’t know how yet until he actually read the damn thing. He sighed before settling further into the nest of fabric so he could at least be comfortable while slogging through the first entry that was most likely fraught with exaggerations he’d have to weed through. He did hope that more pages would fill as he read however, because perhaps there were magical inscriptions and spells on later pages… He could only hope. 

[The Date is Unreadable]

The years grow long since I came to my lord’s court and was given the honor of my knighthood. We have fought many battles side by side and I have completed every task, be it political or mundane, which he has given me. Although this life leaves me fulfilled, I feel as though I am missing something. I crave the companionship of another outside that of my fellow knights, my lord, and the countries that seem ever present now. Although the ladies I have been introduced to as of late are fine of figure and mind, none fill the hollow feeling that has steadily grown in my chest. 

I almost thought all hope was lost when while I was in the village today, I came upon the fairest maiden I had ever laid eyes upon. Her delicate features and poise rivaled that of any woman I have encountered across the lands on my travels. Her timid and delicate disposition only lends to her outward appearance, for as soon as I caught sight of her eyes, I could see the wild freedom that burned within. The fierce look called out to me and it lit my soul ablaze, but before I could make my way to her across the market, she was gone. Now I am haunted by the ethereal grace the lady has left instilled in my mind. 

It is not my will to cage or steal away her free spirited nature. I only wish to partake in it with her so I may feel alive like I once did while seeing the world in a new light provided by her fire. I plan to go to my lord upon the sun’s arrival and I will beseech him to help me find her so that I may earn the permission from her family so I may be allowed to court her. I pray this evening for everything to work in favor of us all. 

Geralt sighed heavily through his nose as his head fell back against the plush and he looked at the elaborate ceiling above. So far it was exactly what he feared it would be, the over-dramatized tellings of some Knight’s life that reads more like one of those sappy romantic tales Jaskier would constantly rave or sing about rather than an actual succinct telling of events. He couldn’t understand how any of this connected to the curse, but he begrudgingly decided to read on and see where he ended up. 

[The Date is Also Unreadable on this Entry]

 The leaves on the trees have turned to the colors of fire, and the world looks as though it has been set ablaze. I have only just returned from meeting with a neighboring lord, during which time I have gone nearly half a season without even a name of my lady love. Oh how she still torments my heart day and night with her absence. It is as though she has bewitched me, and I have no hold over my own self at present. My mind is filled almost entirely by her, and my only wish, if I am unable to win her affection, is to formally meet her. 

My lord sent word that he would make enquiries on my behalf while I was away and now that I have returned, anticipation steals my breath. My fellow knights jest that I  should have followed the path of a bard for how I constantly prattle on at them, waxing poetic of her spirit and sketching her form  from memory, as we travel between our destinations. Although I know it is only light fun on their part, I find myself getting sentimental as I ever grow closer to the middle of my life. I wonder deep in the night whether I would have been more suited to another life but, it is quickly dismissed as nonsensical at this stage. My lord has also made mention, as we are good friends, he feels as though we are practically brothers with how much trust he allows me, and he will be glad to hire me as the official court bard if a change of profession ever truly struck my fancy. They all mock kindly but it warms me at my core to know there are those in my life who indulge my whims. 

Still, Sir Gregor questions why I will not simply give my heart to one of the many ladies of the court  who fancy me, and proclaims me mad in the head for not doing so. I have given up on trying to explain the incredible sensation she has left within me. He will never understand such yearning and passion that has filled me since I took the sight of her in for the first time. I feel pity for the man, but as I rest tonight, I hold hope in my heart for what my lord has to say come morning. 

Geralt found reading this to be akin to dying slowly. Plodding through someone’s desperate yearning was the worst torture he has had to endure yet but at least there was something that hinted at magic in this passage. Geralt also observed that several pages were sketches of a beautiful woman with light hair, tawny skin, and dark eyes. He could not tell if the drawings were exaggerated by the knight’s besottment or if the woman could have possibly been fae or magic of some kind, glamoured just enough to hide the obvious parts while maintaining unnatural beauty. It could have explained why the curse magic was so strong and tricky. Magic was tricky in general, but fae magic was notoriously known for being a bitch, and he had been warned off from meddling in their affairs a long time ago for that exact reason… Now, here he was, knee deep in the shit. He’d have to figure it out one way or another. Deciding he’d be better off just reading the damn thing to completion rather than dithering on about what it could be, he turned his attention back to the book.

To his frustration, the rest of the pages remained blank. Unable to hold in his anger from hitting one road block after another, he threw the damned thing across the room with a growl and it landed with a satisfying rustle of paper before sliding somewhere out of sight. Unable to stand laying around anymore, he got up and began pacing through the quarters barely containing his aggravation. He wondered what to do now. That had been his last lead other than the meaningless riddle the beast had given him. He wanted to go out and train so he could take his frustrations out on something, but no, Jaskier was out there thinking he was just some random beast, and Geralt really didn’t want to add to the image his form presented currently. He wanted to break the curse, but he kept hitting wall after wall! He wanted… No. He needed someone to help him fix this entire mess, but there was no way for him to contact anyone other than the man who no longer remembered him. No wolves or powerful witches or plucky bards who glued themselves to Geralt’s side day and night were there to help him this time around. 

“Fuck…” The defeated syllable slipped from his lips as he sank to the cold stone floor while holding his face in his hands, the fur feeling strange but increasingly familiar under his touch… Jaskier had called him a beast. Geralt had never thought the bard would ever-- He had been the only one who hadn’t ever called the witcher a monster or recoiled at the sight of him. On the contrary, he would often defend Geralt from villagers who called him vile names, and even went as far as to attack the truly aggressive offenders… But now the Witcher was a beast with no name. The bard’s voice uttering the word kept repeating over and over again in his head. Geralt only had himself to blame. If he hadn’t yelled, if Jaskier had still been by his side, then maybe the troubadour would have never lost his memories. 

He had been so caught up in his own spiraling thoughts, Geralt almost didn’t notice the other voice suddenly filling the room. “Oi! Mopin’ about are we?” The warbled feminine voice cleaved through the once silent space but it came from seemingly nowhere as he scanned the area. Getting up, he searched as the squawking continued up until the point he came into view of a fractured mirror that had been hidden behind a moth eaten drape. As he looked in confusion at the mirror, due to the fact that the reflection was certainly not his own, the visage of the old hag from the town moaned in disappointment and shook her head at him from behind the reflective silver backed surface. “You fool Witcher! I-- I sent you to break the curse, not become cursed yourself, you nitwit!” She scolded with an exhausting scowl. If she were in her youth, he was sure she would remind him of Yen in some ways. 

He couldn’t help growling in frustration as he met her steely scowl with his own. “How was I expected to break a curse you refused to give me proper information on?! And you seem to still have some magic, so why not do it yourself if you knew how to?!” He tried to keep himself from snarling at the hag, but she was infuriating and the worry, as well as the earlier frustrations, were just compiling together. 

She took a moment to settle herself before sighing and gathering her thoughts, he assumed. In a calmer tone, she spoke again. “I cannot tell you about the curse in depth… Only pieces, and I cannot go there like yourself.” Her voice slowly became graver as she spoke and looked him directly in the eye. No lie then…

He grit his teeth before saying anything else, more civilly as Jaskier would have called it. “Why?”

“I just can’t… but I can help you as best as I can. This ain’t your curse, but you’re stuck with it--” It suddenly occurred to him that her accent was different from when they had met in her old shack which was… Odd.

“I know. I’m the making of my own curse. The beast said it before he died. Also, why do you sound different now?” He interrupted her as his annoyance rose again. 

“Shut it, you daft tit! Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to help!” She spat at him, shaking a frail fist at him from behind the glass while once again scowling at him. Then after a beat, she continued. “Came to these lands years ago from far off and regretted it. Folks don’t take kindly to those different, so I glamoured my voice.” She clarified with an eye roll. Yup. Definitely Yen if she were to ever age. 

He chewed over the words as he felt some of the tension seep away. “Fair… So what can you tell me that will actually be useful?” He asked, sagging slightly, the memory of Jaskier looking at him in fear and no recognition was still a fresh would in his mind. 

“Hmmmmm… Though the curse is harsh, it’s not cruel. Born of grief it was…” The hag looked as though she were fighting her own mouth before she sighed once again. “Although it imprisons, it’ll give you everythin’ you need to break the curse. Don’t be a fool. If anythin’ appears there, then it’s for a reason. Make use of it or dither till you die in a prison of your own design. Only you can figure why you’re cursed.” She spoke critically but at least it was something useful to which he nodded in thanks thinking that her image would fade then. “Witcher! If you’re in dire straits, knock thrice on the looking glass and think o’ where you wanna see, or to whom you wish to speak. Only I’ll be able to answer back, however.” She offered hastily and after he nodded again, she was gone in a blink of an eye. The mirror now only held his own beastly reflection. 

He mulled over the words, realizing the night had grown long after that disaster of a dinner and it was now the witching hour; If he didn’t try to sleep now, then he would be tired and upset the next day, and he really didn’t need himself snapping at the bard again in misplaced irritation. So, he laid in the shredded nest of a bed and thought more on Jaskier. If he was brought here for a reason, then why steal his memories? And why would Geralt ever curse himself? Perhaps the magic was twisting a subconscious thought from the back of Geralt’s mind into something strange and problematic. But still, why the bard of all people? He drifted into an uneasy sleep thinking about all the new information. 

When he woke, the world was bright outside the crystalline windows, and there was a fuzziness to the world that followed waking from a deep sleep. The room was better around him, healed of the scars of broken and shattered furniture. He supposed this had been what the hag had spoken of; the keep was providing things slowly. He moved through the morning muzzy headed, letting his body rely on muscle memory as he went through several tasks of morning preparation. His head was clearer by the time he visited Roach in the stables where she waited patiently to be tended to and given exercise. He saddled her and checked it twice over before seating himself in the saddle… which was odd, seeing as he was so much bigger now that he was cursed, but she made no indication that he was too heavy or bothersome. The fogginess was back and his concerns evaporated as he rode out into the fiery forest. The foliage in hues of red and orange rushed past as he went further and further, nearing the small hidden lake between the castle and the town. Its waters shone gold as though the water were a dragon’s hoard of coin and riches in the early hours, but the beauty of it could not compare to the figure standing at it’s banks. 

Geralt barely remembered getting down from Roach or silently moving forward to observe the figure more closely, but then his mind cleared again and realization washed over him that the figure was in fact Jaskier. The bard was peacefully gazing out at the calm waters, but he wore odd clothing that Geralt swore he had never seen him in before. Instead of his usually short doublet, he wore a well fitted jacket of some sort that trailed all the way to the floor in the back and the front, but had slits up to the hips to show his well fitted trousers and tall boots. A part of it irked Geralt to no end, because it looked good, but strange and unlike the man at the same time. It was all reminiscent of a dress yet not. It was almost a coat he could imagine Yen wearing, but the garments were a soft blue trimmed in accents of red. It was a nostalgic reminder of Jaskier’s outfit from when they first met. 

The situation was so bizarre that Geralt wanted to question what was happening but before he could think, his body took an unconscious step forward snapping a twig under his heel. Jaskier’s coat whirled around him as he spun and caught sight of him, but there was no fear in his eyes, only confusion and curiosity. “Apologies my lady, I did not mean to frighten you. I was merely curious when I spotted a figure as I rode passed. Are you all right?” What the fuck was that? Geralt understood that it was his voice that spoke but the words were not his own. Icy understanding filled his gut and he knew now that this obviously had something to do with magic. 

“Very kind of you sir. I was just wanting to enjoy the still beauty of the morning and happened upon this lake.” Jaskier smiled brilliantly at him, his voice sounding exactly how Geralt remembered but there was an edge to it that sounded off. Unnatural. This was definitely not Jaskier. 

“I… I’ve seen you in the town but I’ve never had the pleasure to meet your acquaintance in person. I hoped to speak with you, if not just hear your name. I am Lew.” Geralt introduced himself with a foreign name. That was definitely not his name, and he hated how it felt coming out of his mouth, but he seemed to have no control over himself. With dawning horror, Geralt now understood that this was someone else's memories that he was now occupying. It could have been Jaskiers, or someone else from the castle, or even the writer of the journal. Geralt couldn’t be sure yet, and the bard couldn’t be ruled out immediately since the witcher realized he knew practically nothing of Jaskier’s past… It just kept getting messier and messier as he was dragged further into the spell. Whoever wove the threads of this magic somehow got it completely tangled into a ball of shit. 

“Ania. I have only come to live here a year or so ago, which is why we most likely have yet to meet formally.” Jaskier spoke in an amused tone, but Geralt was pretty damn sure that was not his bard’s real name. It was Jaskier. Maybe it wasn’t the bard’s memories after all. Geralt was going to have a difficult time remembering this was not actually the bard himself then but only the spell filling in a face with someone he knew. It was already getting so confusing in his mind, so Geralt decided to just keep using the name attached to the face he knew instead of using the ones he’d heard. Deciding it wouldn’t do much good to fight the memory, he settled in and let everything happen around him. The troubadour looked so much softer now than when they were ever on the road though. It made something in his chest flutter, but he was unsure if it was actually him or the owner of the memory feeling it. 

The witcher found himself wanting to say more, ask more about Jaskier, but the words had left him and his mouth refused to work. It felt like it was his only chance and it was fleeting right before his eyes. The strange visage of the bard suddenly looked off into the distance behind himself before returning a sheepish look to Geralt. “I… I have to go.” His voice was hesitant as Geralt slowly reached a hand out to the man, as if not wanting the bard to leave, but still unable to find the words. Jaskier smiled gently, before biting his lower lip as though he were trying to decide something. The witcher didn’t understand why he was paying such close attention to everything Jaskier did but he was. “I hope our paths cross again, Lew.” And with that, the man fled into the forest with his jacket fluttering behind him.  Geralt would have followed, curious as to if this person was human or not and get answers, but it would appear that the original “Lew” had been frozen with indecision in that moment. His heart raced, which felt strange to Geralt, but then things melted away and the Witcher was once again opening his eyes to the sunlight streaming through the windows. This time however, the room was still destroyed and the light was the cold shine of a winter morning. Geralt found himself staring up at the ceiling in complete bafflement, unable to really understand what the curse could have possibly thought he’d glean from that experience. He sat up in a huff and couldn’t help the puff of agitated words that slipped out of his throat. “What the fuck…” Then he was out of the chambers and headed for the stables to tend to Roach. If anything calmed him down and helped him to organize his thoughts, it was quality time with the mare.

[raendown]

Kept this from a game I did a while back where people send in story ideas they wished I would write and I really liked @neutrallibrarian‘s idea. I was going for a sort of children’s simplified legend sort of feel. 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama / HashiramaMito Word count: 3546 Summary: Jealous of the power held by the Heavenly Bodies, the human Kaguya traps one of them in an attempt to steal that power for herself. She should have known better than to challenge those she views as gods.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

The Witching Moon

Hashirama’s feet touched down lightly on a patch of dry earth, careful to control his own warmth in this already desolate place. He paid little attention to exactly where on the earth he had arrived other than to note the massive waves of sand all around him; it didn’t matter where he was, Mito would always be able to feel him upon her surface.

As he expected, his wife appeared in a rush of brown and green within the space of a human heartbeat. Lush red leaves from her waning season cascaded from atop the crown on her head in place of hair, evergreen vines and petals from her growing season covering her modesty in place of clothing. She was as beautiful as she had ever been in his eyes but for once Hashirama did not take the time to stop and admire the Body of Earth.

“Something has happened,” he said in place of a greeting. Mito inclined her head.

“I’ve felt the stirring in the spirits as well. Do you have any idea what it is?”

“No.” Hashirama’s mouth twisting with worry. “The stars are gossiping, as they always do, but none of them can give me any solid answers. Typical.”

Mito allowed a smile to flash across her lips like wildfire. “You know better than to listen to the stars.”

“Well there’s little else to listen to up there except the Darkness and you know all he does is sleep, the tired old thing. Ah, my wife, one of these days I shall fall from the sky and spend the rest of eternity resting in your embrace.” Hashirama reached out to caress the skin of her cheek, brown like the loam of her forests. His own skin was an even darker brown, the fire which made up his true form contained underneath as brilliant flickers of red and gold.

“Have you heard from the Moon?”

“Not in years. They’re still sulking about that eclipse. I really didn’t mean to be so close! I can only apologize so many times.”

“I see.” Mito shook her head. “Well I’m sure they felt this stirring as well; very likely we’ll see them soon enough.”

Hashirama tilted his head back to look up in to the vast expanse above them. As the Body of Sun it was his duty to help all life grow but there was something on the wind that told him there were cold and dark times upon them. A shiver passed down his spine in remembrance. The last time he had felt this cold one of his stars had gone supernova.

Although time did not pass quite the same for the celestial Bodies as it did for all the other beings of the universe, it still wasn’t very long even by earth standards before a familiar presence made itself known. Madara had never been very good at being quiet or dim despite his coloring. The Body of New Moon was robed in black, both by his clothing and his endless hair crafted from shadows, with only his face exposed to shine brilliantly with the silver-white of his true form.

Dark eyes hard with anger glared out from beneath the fall of his hair as Madara touched down in a massive spray of sand and both Hashirama and Mito were stunned by his disheveled state.

“He’s gone!” his harsh voice growled. “Taken! Gone and taken – taken from me – he is mine!” Acidic rage poured from his aura in concussive blasts, his words halting and repetitive in his all-consuming anger. Earth and Sun blinked in astonishment for his spectacular entrance.

“Who is gone?” Hashirama asked. Madara turned to snarl at him as though something were his fault.

“Tobirama! He was stolen from me!”

“HE WHAT!?”

Spouts of fire erupted from fissures in Hashirama’s skin, heat boiling over in his anguished surprise. Madara clenched both fists as his hair whipped and lashed, barely visible against the dark night surrounding them.

“He was tricked by some filthy human with powers that could only have been stolen from another Body. Vile, evil witch. I will rend her atom from atom. I will carve out her heart and feed it to the core of a dying star!”

“Who is this human?” Mito asked, poison gathering at the tips of her nails and dripping down in to the sands.  

“Kaguya.” Madara spit her name as though it tasted disgusting on his tongue.

Both the Earth and the Sun narrowed their eyes in understanding. All had heard the prayers of the human Kaguya, forever jealous of their power and seeking to gain their favor, but none of them had bothered to spare her a response in decades; not since it became obvious that she wanted their power for nothing more than selfish gain.

“How could someone like her trick our brother?”

“She disrupted the tides. I know not how but when Tobirama investigated she used a power that should not be hers to bind him and hide him away from me. He is mine! And I will have him back if I must boil the oceans to do so!”

“Now, now. There will be no messing with my oceans. Just because they listen to you two more than me does not make them yours. We will help return Tobirama to where he belongs, of course.” When Mito smiled her mouth was full of thick green thorns, sharp and ready to prick and sting. Hashirama spared a moment to swoon at the sight before shaking his head and pressing a fist in to the opposite palm.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Whoever touched my brother will feel my flames.”

Soothed a bit by how similar their reactions were to his own, Madara nodded in satisfaction before lifting both hands to carefully remove one of his dark gloves. Pale white skin, so rarely seen by any but his other half, lit up the night as he held it higher. Small glittering fragments of light lifted from his palm to dance together and form the shape of a women with long hair and a flowing robe. The figure hovered there for a moment before turning and moving as though cackling to herself.

The three of them watched as the imitation Kaguya broke apart only for the glittering splinters to reshape themselves in to an ocean-side cavern, all the trees of the forest surrounding it reduced to little more than stumps. Mito hissed at the sight.

“I know that place,” she growled. “My beautiful forest, burned! And all because that ridiculous Body of Comet sought to stand above his station.” When both of her companions gave her a questioning look, Mito scowled and her autumnal hair rustled in a hot wind. The roots of her feet rumbled beneath the sands. “He may be a lesser Body but Orochimaru has been picking fights with me for millennia. When he could not find a place among you in the Darkness he sought to steal my power instead. Well I am no easy prey and it is time that dying ember was put in his place once and for all.”

A snarl of satisfaction left Madara teeth as he extinguished the light, closed his palm and re-assimilating his own essence. He pulled his glove back on and stated for the other two to follow. Then it was a simple thought to expand and shift, one form flowing naturally in to another until all that was visible of him was a soft moonbeam racing across the surface of the earth.

Sunlight and wind followed after him as he streaked towards the east, drawn by the pull of his other half. Without Tobirama the night sky would never again see more than the light of the stars and his life would be nothing, broken and lonely and forever empty. What was the New Moon without his counterpart, the Full Moon?

More terrible than the thought of his other half kidnapped and being held somewhere out of his reach was the knowledge that the longer they spent apart the weaker they each would grow. Beautiful shining Tobirama, all alone in whatever prison he was trapped within, growing weaker by the hour. And Madara, equally as prone to the pain of their separation, would share that weakness until soon he might lose the strength needed to rescue his own other self. The very idea of it rankled. It encouraged him to travel faster and faster until at last he wove moonbeams into a solid form once again.

The three Bodies gazed upon the cavern containing the witch Kaguya and her new patron, the lesser Body of Comet. Dim light shone from within.

“What are we waiting for?” Madara demanded. Hashirama grinned, the flames underneath his skin swirling faster as excitement mounted within him.

“Nothing!” he declared.

Generally Mito considered herself the voice of reason when it came to their kind but today she did nothing to discourage them as the Sun and the New Moon shared a vicious look before setting off towards the cavern at an implacable pace. Not a single thought was spared for caution or quiet; it simply wasn’t their way. The Bodies were not beings who were meant to suppress themselves, even in battle, and the idea of waiting to make a plan was foreign to those who were unused to any creature challenging their strength.

Within the cavern they found a sight which only intensified the rage inside them all.

Tobirama’s light waned, dim beneath the chains of ice which held him fast to the stone floor. His eyes were closed and his body folded, breathing light, and it was unclear whether he was sleeping or unconscious. It was enough that he was not his usual brilliant self. The bars of his cage showed themselves to be one of the sources of the dim glow, crafted from a familiar cold flame. Atop them lounged the main source: Orochimaru himself.

Skin as white as the burning ice that made up his natural form, Orochimaru eyed them with a hint of a smirk on his strangely serpentine lips. Unlike the rest of the lesser Bodies he had never been content with his place in the universe, forever seeking to gain power above his station, but none of them had ever thought he would go so far as to involve himself in such a direct attack on one of them.

Beside him stood Kaguya. Human-born, her eyes were wide and icy white, an unnatural shade which spoke of an equally unnatural power coursing through her. She too was smirking with much more confidence than any human should feel when faced with the wrath of the Heavenly Bodies.

“And so you have come, as I knew you would. Beg, oh ye gods, and perhaps I will grant mercy to your kin.” Kaguya lifted one hand towards the cage and with a simple gesture the chains tightened around Tobirama’s still form. Madara’s hair bristled, growing and reaching until the ends merged with the shadows of the cavern.

“We do not kneel for your kind,” he said. “Give him back and perhaps I will grant you a swift death.”

“His power belongs to me now but you may have his husk when I am finished with it. The moon shall be mine and I shall rise above the rest of humanity!” Kaguya’s eyes shone with a fervent light that only seemed to amuse the figure behind her more. Orochimaru lounged even more comfortably atop the cage containing his prize, the sickly glow of his skin flickering as he tried to force it brighter.

Snarling like an enraged beast, Hashirama pointed a finger at their lesser cousin. “If you want the light of the Sun so badly, Orochimaru, then you shall have it. Burn!”

The lesser Body of Comet shrieked in pain and hid his eyes as Hashirama allowed the skin of his human form to split open, spilling his rays inside the cavern. With both hands over his eyes he tumbled down from his perch atop the cage and staggered farther within the caves. Hashirama followed him with murder in his gaze, molten light from the Sun’s core gathering in his palms with which to smite his enemy.

Left suddenly alone, Kaguya peeked out from between her fingers to check that the light was no longer so blinding. Upon discovering that her benefactor had abandoned her she scoffed and set her jaw stubbornly, long hair tossed over one shoulder while she narrowed her eyes at the two remaining Bodies. She seemed far from intimidated by their obvious ire. It seemed that in the rush of her temporary success she had forgotten the fragility of her own mortality. Humans never did seem very aware of how squishy they were.

“You do not fear us,” Mito noted curiously.

“No.”

“You should.” Madara bared his teeth and tilted his head to crack his neck. Kaguya laughed.

“Why should I be afraid when I, too, have the power of a god?” she asked through broken, mocking cackles. “After this cage has done its work then I shall be a god.”

Until then neither Mito nor Madara had realized the coldfire prison had any purpose other than containment. The very idea that that even as they spoke it was sapping Tobirama of his power was galling, infuriating, an insult that could not be borne. No words were needed between them to decide that Kaguya had reached her life expectancy. As one they stepped away from each other and moved to hem the witch in from opposite sides of the large stone room.

“The term ‘gods’ is a human misconception,” Mito lectured calmly in a direct contrast to the deep abiding hatred taking root inside her heart. “We are not gods but eternal Bodies who care little for the transient lives of the lesser forms. You mean nothing to us, petty human, and we will take pleasure in showing you the folly of lusting for a power you cannot fathom.”

“I am not lesser! You will bow to me as an equal! As your better!”

Drunk with the might gifted to her from another, ignorant of how much weaker that might was, Kaguya brought her hands together and held them out in front of her as though to create a shield. Cold flames and chunks of ice formed beneath her feet and grew outwards as she made a pushing motion.

Mito and Madara shared a look across the room, exasperated by her efforts. After a moment of silent communication Mito deferred with an indulgent bowing of her head. Madara cast his eyes back upon his prey and his senses out to the world beyond the cavern, feeling for that which answered his call yet belonged to another, then he gave a feral grin. Kaguya seemed disturbed by his expression, especially since he hadn’t seemed to do anything as far as she could tell. She found out what he had done only a moment later.

Waves of icy water came crashing in through the entrance, the tides that answered when the Moon beckoned. As they rushed towards her Kaguya shrieked and raised one hand frantically. The chunks of ice beneath her feet rose up to form a short wall against which the water broke, spraying and tumbling, but it wasn’t enough. Despite her efforts Kaguya was not powerful enough to raise her wall any higher and thus remnants of the wave came rushing over the top to cascade down upon her head. Being only the equivalent of a few bucketsful, it wasn’t really enough to do anything more than annoy her – and yet even that was a result satisfactory enough to have Madara smiling in delight. It was obvious that Kaguya did not appreciate getting wet and he was more than happy to inconvenience her in any way possible.

Especially since she had fallen hopelessly within his trap without even realizing it.

Once more the waters responded to a mere thought from Madara, the puddles beyond the wall of ice gathering and rushing back to press Kaguya up against it. No matter how she struggled there was little she could do to fight the water pressure, unable to even bring her hands together to gather her borrowed abilities, and the two Bodies watched panic enter her eyes with a great deal of vicious satisfaction as it slowly rose towards her face.

“No!” she screamed. “You can’t do this! I was going to be a god!” Mito calmly rumbled the stones beneath them, breaking a path for herself through the ice without disturbing the trap her companion had set.

“You are what you have always been. Nothing.”

With that she turned away in a blatant dismissal. Kaguya’s final screams trailed off in to a gurgle as Madara bid the water rise, holding it there to allow himself the satisfaction of watching her body’s thrashing gradually go still. As soon as the light had faded from her eyes he gave a derisive snort and released the water, allowing them to gently flow back to the seas where they belonged.

Already forgotten the moment her life was extinguished, Kaguya’s body slumped to the floor like so much garbage as Madara and Mito hurried forward to the cage containing their loved one. Tobirama remained in the same position as he had been before, not having moved an inch, his silver hair glowing only faintly. His moon-white skin, normally almost blinding, was dulled to a light sheen. Just the sight of him would have torn at Madara’s heart even if he hadn’t felt their mutual weakening. He could have drowned Kaguya and this entire cave with barely a thought if they hadn’t been separated for hours already.

Mito bared her teeth and willed the earth around them to reach up from below and down from above at the same time, crushing the cage with expert precision before returning to their natural formations. Immediately Madara reached within and gathering Tobirama in to his arms.

Smiling to himself and whistling a cheery tune, Hashirama reappeared with the casual air of someone who had just performed nothing more momentous that some mundane human task. He glanced around to take stock of the room, his gaze pausing on Kaguya’s sodden body for but a moment, then nodded in approval. Mito gracefully stepped over to plant a soft kiss upon his cheek.

“The Comet?” she asked with only a bit of curiosity. Hashirama shrugged.

“I told him to burn. He did.”

“How polite of him.”

The Body of Sun chuckled before kneeling down to pass a hand over his brother’s hair. Madara only just barely resisted the urge to hiss at him to go away, arms tightening protectively around his other half.

“How is he?”

“So much of his brightness is gone.” Madara’s voice was quiet, a burning anger wrapped in darkness. “We need to return to our home. Thank you both.”

“No thanks are needed,” Mito spoke for both of them. Hashirama agreed with a nod that Madara didn’t see, already focused on leaving this wretched place.

The shadows of his hair wrapped around them both until they had faded in to nothingness and a moment later they were gone, returned to their place deep within the core of the moon which they embodied. Madara laid his other half out on the bed they shared and traced the skin which should have matched his own. Then he settled down to wait.

Days which normally passed like seconds seemed to instead take eons yet still he waited without moving. His beloved’s skin slowly regained its shine and the sense of his presence grew stronger by the hour but it would not be enough until Madara could see him fully recovered. Finally, when nearly an entire earth week had passed, Tobirama stirred at long last. Eyes red like the blood moon blinked open to stare hazily above himself before he turned at a gentle touch against his cheek.

Madara was kissing him before he could speak, wild and uncoordinated as he ever was.

“I had feared that your light would go out forever,” the New Moon whispered. Tobirama smiled.

“Never. What part of ‘eternal’ did you forget?”

“Don’t be sassy with me; I just spent seven days waiting at your side for you to wake.”

“Ah, my hero,” Tobirama teased him with a smirk.

Madara huffed but didn’t bother to fight the hand that was pulling him down for another kiss. “Damn right I’m your hero. You’re the one who had to go and get himself kidnapped. By a mere human! Honestly, with how large our natural form is I wouldn’t think it was so difficult to keep track of you.”

The very next moment he regretted being catty about it so soon. Immediately the Full Moon was flaring brightly with temper, irritated at the implication that he was weak in any way. As they were wont to do, the two partnered Bodies began to bicker and snarl at each other, shouting back and forth as they worked through the events still so fresh in their memories, and although Madara was disappointed to have their loving reunion cut short he couldn’t say that he was entirely unhappy.

Everything was as it should be.

[lalast0ne]

Kitchen Antics

Layla

*Holiday blues had set in deep. Our first vacation since our honeymoon had been blissful but was quickly becoming a distant memory that I wanted to relive all over again. Much like Santorini, I could have stayed in Capri forever. The small island had impacted me in a big way, igniting a love for Italy and a desire to return at some point. 

Since the moment the wheels of our plane had touched down on American soil we’d been non stop, settling back in to the routine that is daily life immediately. Four dogs, 2 cats and one child were back under the same roof, the club was still standing and, unfortunately, so was The Skids.  

While I’d been spending a lot more time at The Steele Cage, Wilder had been in meetings with Kingston to get exact details on what had been happening in our absence. Given the amount of meetings and length of time he was gone during the day, I’m assuming a lot has been happening but I had too much going on at work to even have the chance to ask for details; all I knew was Carlos wasn’t afraid to make his presence in Blacksoul known now that we knew about him and his ‘business’.  

But today we had to forget all of that .. because today we were faced with the biggest challenge I think either of us have ever faced. Jake was turning twelve and we were hosting a birthday for far too many children .. and a sleepover for 6 of them*

Wilder

*Long days turned into long nights since we got back home. Between business and business, I had almost forgotten it was Jake’s birthday, even with all his subtle hints for shit he wanted as gifts. 

That dickhead Carlos was becoming a thorn in my side. I was seconds away from putting my knife through his eye and cutting off his tongue. Leaving him for the buzzards to tear apart. He was wandering the streets of my fucking town, attempting to make friends. I was about to show him what kind of “friend” I could be.* Fucking pain in my ass. *I grumbled and stomped my boots on the front porch, shoving through the front door with enough bags of snacks to feed an army.* Little Ball of Fire, get your ass front and centre right now and explain this idea to me.....again?

Layla

*I emerge from the kitchen, mixing bowl underarm as I beat the contents with a wooden spoon. My clothes look like I’ve had a fight with a flour bag and lost, and my hair is probably looking a little crazy from the amount of times I’ve nearly pulled it out. This is cake attempt number 3! The first was burnt, the second was raw in the middle .. this one, on the law of averages, should be juuuuust right. I stop beating the batter and eye the bags you’re currently holding* It’s simple really. Jake has his first ever birthday party - best time ever! Then, when the excessive amount of kids have left, a select few stay. Burn of energy with the nerf guns and million bullets I stocked up on them disappear downstairs never to be seen again ... until tomorrow morning. Jake promised they wouldn’t emerge from his room if we supplied food, drink and movies. *Moves in to kiss your lips before eyeing in the bags* Did you get everything? Chips, soda, candy .. all the stuff that’ll rot their teeth and keep them awake for hours?

Wilder

*I take in your appearance, laughing under my breathe.* You know Delores could have made the cake. She offered many many times. *Growls against your lips.* I think you hurt her feelings when you insisted you had it under control. Which by everything I see and smell, you are well on your way to your own cooking show. Good thing Delores made a standby cake just in case. *Smirks, following your sexy ass into the kitchen where I set the bags on the counter.* I bought everything on the list you made me, along with some other snacks for you and me. *Reaching into the bag, I pull out a bottle of sleeping pills.* Backup insurance. *Eyes the nerf guns on the table.* I’m going to kick all their asses in that game.

Layla

I know she did but this is something I wanted to do ... *I stand at the counter, pouring the mixture evenly between the two tins then pop them in the oven and saying a little prayer that this batch behaves* Although, we might well be using that back up cake .. *I turn to look as you empty the contents of the bags; Mounds of unhealthy treats littering the surface just as requested, before shaking the pot of pills at me with an evil grin on your face.* PERFECT! You thought of everything. Although, we might be needing those rather than feeding them to the kids. And as for the nerf game ... we’ve both got our own weapons. Just for protection *Winks* can’t be letting the kids have all the fun now, can we.

Wilder

I have a much better way to make sure you sleep soundly. *Smirks, reaching over with my knife to cut a slice of the back up cake.* So the plan is games, gifts, food and then they go hide out and watch movies? *Eyes Jake when he comes up from the basement, sleeping his day away now that school is out for summer.* Boy, I’m going to put you to work so you have a productive summer. *Watches him ignore me, the back of his head looking for food in the fridge.* What did we buy him for his birthday? Maybe we can send it back.

Layla

*I stare at you open mouthed when you cut into the cake that I was hoping to pass off as my own creation of need be* You’ll have to tell me more about these ideas of yours a little later, when ears aren’t around *I smile at Jake who rolls his eyes, clearly having heard what I just said.* Yep, that’s the plan. Food, movies .. sleep! *A laugh comes from the fridge and I watch as Jakes entire body shakes in amusement.* We won’t send it back. Like you just said, you can just make him earn it over the summer. My dad already has some jobs lined up for him too if we fall short of ideas. But .. I have a feeling you’ll find plenty for him *I speak as though Jake isn’t here, watching as he freezes and turns to look at me* You’re a teenager now, Kid. It doesn’t count as cruelty to children *laughs*

Wilder

*I hook my arm around Jake’s neck, chomping down on my slice of cake.* I promise you will love the work I have lined up. Have you seen how dirty some of the sidewalks are around town? The windows at home need cleaning. *Jake growns as I rattle off more of my list.* I do know you enjoy going to the club. Maybe when you finish those tasks, you can help Salem. *Laughs when his eyes light up at the mention of her name.* Tell me about these kids who I’m allowing in the house. Do I need to worry if any are thugs? *Already completed a background check on all the kids, I wait to see if Jake coughs up any additional information.*

Layla

*I can’t help laughing at Jakes reaction first to the job list and then at the prospect of spending time with Salem. They’ve developed a bond since Jake came to live with us and I even think he’s developed a little crush on our neighbour.* Salem would enjoy the help, for sure. There’s going to be some changes at the club soon enough so there’ll be plenty of work for you. *Pulling bowls from the cupboards, I busy myself while listening to you and Jake taking note of the names he reels off. A couple I know from town but there’s some I don’t recognise.* You just got to make sure your office door is locked baby. I don’t want any .. accidents .. happening unless it involves a nerf bullet. *I look between you both* Clear?

Wilder

*Leans over and bites the tip of your finger when you point it at me.* You have my word Little Ball of Fire. What kind of changes is the club having? This is the first I have heard about changes. *Eyes you up and down, stopping before I reach your neck, a smirk curling my lips.* People are starting to take liberties here in my town. I’m about to lay down a new set of rules. Starting first with my wife.

Layla

Thank you, husband *i pull my finger from between your teeth, laughing softly* Well, I was going to speak to you about it when the opportunity arose but we’ve both been really busy. *I smile at Jake who excuses himself from “business talk” then turn to look at you* Just changing up the drinks menu, and I’m pricing up the possibility of putting in a kitchen .. for food. To make it more appealing to people during the day too. Just ideas at the moment. *I move toward you, an angelic smile tugging at the corners of my lips* More rules? But I have so many to live by already .. it’s hard to remember them all. That’s why they’re so often broken.

Wilder

Do you hear that sound? It’s money crying not wanting to be spent. *Snakes my arms around your waist, lifting you up to eye level.* I think a kitchen is a good idea but does mean we need to hire a chef? I know you will not be cooking. *I cock my brow in challenge.* What time does this party get started? Maybe I have enough time to go over a rule or two. *I bring my hand down on your ass while you are trapped in my arms, a smirk on my face.*

[restlessmaknae]

Paradox [pt.7]

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Word count: 1925

Genre: angst, drama, a bit of fluff

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan); Yu Dayoung (OC)

Setting: non AU

Warning: mentions of character death, suicide, hints of depression

Chapter warning: -

They were so young, so talented yet so desperate.

Paradox of us (The paradox of you&me)

 People say that we were a wrong pair from the start. We were never meant to be together, it was never written in the stars. We met anyway and we fell in love. That’s when I realised what loss really was. That’s when I learned what love was.

Although coming from different companies, experiencing different training methods and being completely different, I think our paradox was one of a kind. It’s my favourite so far; the paradox of us, the paradox of you&me.

 Dear Donghyuck,

There were times when I believed it would work out. It turned out that I was wrong. I was only chasing a fantasy out of my reach. Life is not a dream, after all. I had to learn the hard way.

I wanted it to be as easy as the start. Without telling silly fibs, without hiding behind masks and without constantly being terrified. However, as trust exists, so does fear. Fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of the unknown. There are so many types of fear and you were only one of them. My greatest fear.

How easy it was in the beginning, right? Joking around without being afraid that we might hurt each other’s feelings. Yet, when one starts to care, insouciance is not a definition anymore. We love, we receive love, we hurt and we get hurt. It’s all part of the system, it’s all how it works. It was just a matter of time until we discovered it for ourselves. After that, there was no turning back. We were trapped in the prison that was called ‘love’.

Our relationship was the stern winter longing for the bright spring, never actually taking the warmth into consideration that will eventually make it disappear. As long as we could play with fire, as long as we didn’t fade away with the burning ashes, we were alright. We got burnt so many times, I don’t even know how many times but the hours we spent together with talking, gazing at each other or just lying beside one another definitely paid off. I wouldn’t regret anything.

The first few months were the so-called good times. We knew nothing about what was waiting for us. It was my mistake, I know. I never let you see how I was shaking in fear every time we parted our ways because I was afraid that we would get caught. But that wasn’t what really teared us apart. It was me, my own stubbornness and my own stupid body that made things turn out the way they did.

Believe me, I wish I could change but there’s no way that I could do so. The doctor says that I can’t do this anymore, I would only make it worse. Trapped in the cage of expectations with the weight of the pressure on my shoulder, I feel like I’m constantly being twisted. What is right and what is not? For who should I make sacrifice? What is my duty and what is the purpose of life? Is that the same thing?

Being confused in your own feelings and terrified at your own thoughts is the worst feeling in the world. You can’t be mad at someone else, the enemy is within you…

Remember how you always said that I would make it? I believed you because I wanted to believe that it would actually happen. I wanted it to be true but until I met you, I couldn’t afford to cherish the thought. It was a mere illusion for me, a dream that I couldn’t reach. It was the air that my lungs sought after; the medicine that I was ready to be given and the drug that kept me on toes, motivating me to keep going, pushing me to my limits. Pushing me until I fell.

In the end, I only have regrets regarding my debut. I shouldn’t have been so stupid, I should have just stepped on my dreams and walk towards another goal of mine. I was too adamant and that turned out to be my greatest weakness.

What I don’t regret is the things that we’ve done together. When we were together, our happiness doubled. When we were together, our sadness lessened. I know it sounds silly since it’s an equation that is far from even logical. But it’s the equation of love, so it doesn’t need explanation.

The hardest part was still yet to come. We couldn’t be prepared for what was following. The days got undeniably harder and so did the war that I wanted to win. It seems that I was an easy opponent and gave up easily. People usually think that if you commit suicide, it was the easy way for you. I have to tell you that it wasn’t. I’m not saying that I was brave and I really should have done it but you can’t imagine how many times I’ve changed my mind. I was constantly thinking about my family, the company, my dream and you. It wasn’t easy at all.

The thought first crossed my mind when Dr. Lee said that I should give up on my dream to become an idol. My body wouldn’t be able to handle it. You know that I’ve said that it was because of all the stress and pressure that was taking hold of me due to the upcoming debut of the Tender Thorns. Yet, I wanted to believe that I can do it.

That’s why I made the deal with the company.

To tell you the truth, I don’t know what it will feel like. Falling, flying with the wind and being free… But I know what I’ll be thinking of. Because amidst all the darkness and grief, you were always there. My beaming light. I’ll be thinking of that light. I’ll be thinking of you.

 And after that… well, I don’t know what will happen. You will probably blame yourself, saying that it was your mistake but let me tell you that it wasn’t. If you hadn’t been there, I would have done it even earlier. So, please, accept my decision and do me a favour.

When I’m not going to be there, please, be the one who smiles. The one who brings laughter and the one who gives hope for others. Be as radiant as you were and continue to be the beaming light for others. Last but not least, never be afraid to love again. And be loved.

I love you, Donghyuck. I should have said it earlier.

 Love,

Dayoungie

 With the letter in his hands, reading her words for the hundredth time, Donghyuck couldn’t help but shed a tear. He felt lonely again and the whole situation made him remember how much he really missed her. He blamed it on the wound that her loss caused which still couldn’t fully recover. It wasn’t as aching as in the beginning but it still hurt. Every single time he read her letter, it was less and less heart-wrenching but the hollowness hadn’t faded yet.

“Donghyuck, come on! We’re coming up next!” Youngho hollered gleefully and opened the dressing’s room door. Poor boy almost had a heart attack when his band member showed up in the room, grinning widely at his scaredy-cat friend.

“Why are you so scared?”

“I was just…” he was hesitating whether to admit that he was reading Dayoung’s letter or say an innocent, little lie. In the end, he decided to tell the truth. “I’ve just finished reading her letter when you came in,” he confessed sheepishly, looking down at the paper in front of him.

He didn’t need to say whose letter it was, Youngho knew it perfectly. In fact, he was the first who got to know about Dayoung’s last words since he was there when the doctor gave it to Donghyuck. He said that they had found it in the girl’s hand when they were operating her. His name was written on the back, so after they had clarified that he was the so-called Donghyuck, he could finally seize it.

At first, he wasn’t even able to read until the end, he bawled in tears after 2 paragraphs. The more he read, the worse he felt. It was tearing him apart, knowing that she had planned her suicide beforehand and he couldn’t figure out that she was up to such a terrifying move.

Yet, he wanted to do her the favour that she had asked and it meant that he couldn’t blame himself. It was one hell of a ride, to say the least, but he managed to move on and start living again. The fans noticed the change in his bubbly behaviour but he had to keep it as a secret due to Dayoung’s and his contract. On top of that, it was about his private life and although he loved his fans like family, he wouldn’t like to share the burden with them. It could have destroyed him even more.

“Oh, I see,” Youngho nodded and awkwardly ruffled his hair. “Do you need a moment to recollect your thoughts and−“

“No, I’m fine. Let’s go and rock this stage!” he immediately cut him off, giving him a thumbs-up. The leader smiled gently and slung his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

Although he was nervous as hell, the current NCT sub-unit’s stage with Youngho – aka Johnny -, Yuta, Ten, Mark, Hansol, Winwin and Kun – turned out to be pretty successful and when they took their seats in the audience, some of their sunbaenims congratulated on their energetic and jaw-dropping performance. Donghyuck boosted a proud grin but he knew that the most exciting part was still yet to come.

They were nominated for the ‘Best Dance Performance Male Group’ and ‘Best Music Video’ awards along other bands like BTS, EXO, GOT7 and Monsta X and it would be an understatement to say that they were shocked when they won the latter. Donghyuck literally froze when he heard their name, questioning whether he had gone totally crazy or he had a problem with his hearing.

Nonetheless, they walked onto the stage and started their winning speech. First, it was Johnny who gave one since he was the leader of the sub-unit and the member who had trained the most, then, it was the international members’ turn - Winwin, Kun, Ten and Yuta. Mark thought of the international fans and said thank you in English, too, while Donghyuck didn’t prepare anything special, he said what was already arranged with the boys.

“I would like to dedicate this award to a very special person whom we had lost this year. I met her exactly a year ago and if she was here today, I’m sure she would do her best to make everyone happy. Please, in memory of Yu Dayoung, join me and observe one minute of silence for her! Thank you!” he bowed respectfully, his eyes scanning the reaction of the other idols.

The stadium stayed totally silent for a moment and then, one particular band stood up and the others emulated their action one by one. Soon, the whole audience got to their feet and no word was exchanged for a minute.

Donghyuck – who was doing his best to cover up his gratitude – looked up at the ceiling, wondering whether Dayoung would be able to see this.

I love you, too, Dayoung. No matter where you are, you will always be my beaming light.

[dogfohtaed-blog]

i wrote a daniel drabble. enjoy:

The night was young, back then. It had been young, and new, each passing evening when he was small. The sun would die, willfully lowering into it's own grave and allowing it's sister moon to crawl, risen from death of its own to sit atop the sky like a throne. Come to think of it, Daniel could only find it fascinating that even at such an innocent age, he was still using grim allegories and finding them beautiful... as it was. Death was, in it's nature, so god damn beautiful. The process of giving your body to the earth and fertilizing the newborn flowers and plants and allowing your empty husk to become a foundation for something so full of life. Body with earth, mind with sky, spirit with heavens... a process of rebirth, recycling. And yet, the beauty of ascension was still to be rejected for years to come, cast aside as nightmarish fever dreams. It was they, the ones who disbelieve, who were stuck firmly in a quicksand of deep naivety. Beauty could not be so very very far from their desperate grasp. No matter how much their fingers clawed, digging at the dull air for purpose... they would never take hold of anything. Harsh nothing would dance across fingernails for as long as they continued to deny truth being presented to them on silver platter. The night was young, back then, yes...  but now it was old. The sun was a bitter foe, beaten and worn from the clouds of abuse and only now set with the shaking hope that it would not rise again to meet the agony once more. The moon now did not rise from the dead as an angel re-risen, but instead dug it's way out as a demon of all layers of underground torment to forcefully claim it's crown of thorns each passing night. Lullabies from friendly music boxes turn rusted, twisted sounds of scraping metal against metal and the comfort of being tucked in nice and warm against softened sheets was now being restrained, tied with harsh rope to a bed of needles and being told to keep your balance or slide, punctured holes through the body till they protruded from the other end. The rain came down without so much as a hint of mercy on top of Daniel, pelting him in the dark with droplets that could very well have been rocks and he would not tell the difference. Not a single scar existed on him, physically... but there was something deeper. The burning pain of a defeat at the hands of a once beloved friend. The memories of poison come flooding back to him. Purple liquid traveling into his bloodstream and making his throat clog up with panic and his heart march on, march on as hard as it could until it collapsed. He remembered his shock when he awoke, lying on his back in an enclosed bed of dirt and flowers. Buried alive? No. Buried dead. Risen alive. Daniel had jutted his hand against his prison, weakened body collapsed instantly upon it's feeble attempt to escape. And thus Daniel was rendered trapped there, rotting away in a cage meant for one unable to comprehend it's horrors. He had a lot of time to think within that enclosure, and many things had occurred to him in rapid succession. The truth was what put him here. His kindness had been spit back in his face, and he had been punished for purity. The world was cruel like that, he knew...it feared perfection, feared the change they needed. Society was trapped in it's cocoon and refused to transition into beings of something bigger than this. They didn't want his caring and helping hand. They didn't want to ascend. That made him angry. The fact that he was only stuck here because he knew the truth... cold, dead lips had parted to make way for a string of silent noises. He didn't remember how to speak. How long had he been gone? Had it been long enough that his voice had since cancelled itself out due to misuse? Was it long enough that the world had already transitioned without him? Recycled while he was stuck on mortal coil? The idea struck him like cold ice, fear shuddering his form underneath the dirt. Was this punishment? What could he have done wrong to deny him a right to the ascension he preached? Daniel finally felt his voice return to him, and the first thing he did was pure animalistic impulse. He had screamed. Underneath that prison of his, muffled and utterly pointless, he had keened to the surface with conviction strong enough to win twenty wars. The scream was nigh instantly stymied by the falling dirt that filled between his teeth and onto his tongue. He had coughed, and then found that he didn't need to. Breathing didn't seem to affect him any longer, and that was a promising discovery. Now, mouth brimming with the very cage he was trapped in, he pondered. His head had been wracked with possibility after possibility of his new form, and of why he was given it... but he could not rest on an answer. So then, he turned to his next favorite subject. What would he do once he escaped it? He thought maybe he'd find his old leaders, and show them his new form. Perhaps he would reveal how worthy he is of true ascension, and perhaps they would reward him. Would there be a higher reward anymore, were this a purified form? Daniel thought then of what he wanted most in the world, and suddenly his head was filled with a single namesake. David. D a v i d. Yes, that was it, wasn't it? A grin had spread on his dirt-filled lips, and Daniel thought of David. Once upon a time, they had been friends, along with Jasper... but David forgot those days, now didn't he? That was a shame for him, wasn't it? A defeat at the hand of such innocent arrogance...how foolish he had been. But was he the fool? Or was David, now that he had come into a body that could not die? Daniel silently fantasized what he might do when he saw him again. Purify him? No. David didn't deserve that. Something in Daniel's head kept screaming at him about that. It was a voice, keeping him company in the recesses of his head. He was ready to listen to anything other than the repetitive static of dry stillness. It told him that David was his perfect opposite. A being that could not ascend, a being full of such earthly sin that the only way he could ever find rest was in some form of purgatory. He did not deserve to live. And that was the thought that rose him. His hand jutted out harder this time against the dirt, and this time had succeeded in breaking much of the dirt. He reached a second hand up, and began a crawl- almost a swim- upwards with sharpened fingernails and mouth still full. He had to close his eyes to avoid filling sockets with the same troublesome ground. Finally, he had broke unto the surface, and did not hesitate to drag himself out of the hole. Daniel had spit the cursed dirt down into the hole from his mouth, and had stumbled, as if unused to walking. After gaining his bearings...he merely observed. It was nighttime, and he found himself remembering the night of Jasper's passing. As he did so, a sensation hit him harder than any he'd ever felt. The poison... re-entering his bloodstream to attack his senses, and fill his nose with the burning of death. Desperately, he had cried out, but only the bubbling purple liquid had dripped from his tongue. Daniel took a step forward, and fell onto his knees, gripping at his throat. Again, not again...thoughts came rushing back and memories of recent times joined him. A prison of dirt, a re-awakening, a voice of vengeance, a bitter memory- the poison! Repeated, a cycle that never ended. Was this hell? Was it? Was this punishment for his crime? The taste of dirt on his tongue was familiar now, he remembered it. Time and time and time again like a cruel game of deja vu- why could he not shake that feeling? Every time he broke the surface, it dragged him back, over and over without end. He collapsed on the dirt, tears of purple streaming and staining the ground underneath. He thought of David... his lip upturned in a scowl. This was his doing. The vengeance is stuck within him, even now. That's familiar, too. It's ALL TOO FAMILIAR. THIS KEPT HAPPENING. Would it ever end? As he felt his brief deathless state fade from him, he realized he was dying (AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AN), and he gave in. There was no point to not doing so. Facedown on the ground, with hands limp at his side...he recalled the night that he had first met David; The night was young, back then. It had been young, and new, each passing evening when he was small. The sun would die, willfully lowering into it's own grave and allowing it's sister moon to crawl, risen from death of its own to sit atop the sky like a throne-

[allcheatscodes]

diablo 2 pc

http://allcheatscodes.com/diablo-2-pc/

diablo 2 pc

Diablo 2 cheats & more for PC (PC)

Cheats

Unlockables

Hints

Easter Eggs

Glitches

Guides

Achievements

Get the updated and latest Diablo 2 cheats, unlockables, codes, hints, Easter eggs, glitches, tricks, tips, hacks, downloads, achievements, guides, FAQs, walkthroughs, and more for PC (PC). AllCheatsCodes.com has all the codes you need to win every game you play!

Use the links above or scroll down to see all the PC cheats we have available for Diablo 2.

Genre: Role-Playing, First-Person Action RPG Developer: Blizzard Entertainment Publisher: Blizzard Entertainment ESRB Rating: Mature Release Date: December 29, 2002

Hints

Free Identifications While In Town

After you rescue Deckard Cain from Tristam, he will identify items when you talk to him for FREE.

Good Inventory Tip

If you get totems from Akara you can fit up to 20 scrolls in each appropriate book. This helps to keep your inventory free.

100% Health While In Town

Talk to Akara and she will heal you, and if you have any minions she will heal them too.

Full Rejuvenations

Since full rej’s are next to impossible to find, and take up a gem to make, simply transmute as you would ordinarily using 3 life, 3 mana, and a gem in the Horadric Cube. Next, go to a merchant and sell that rej. At the same place, click on buy, hold shift down and right click to get full rej’s. Continue as needed. Make sure that when you fill up your belt, that you have an entire horizontal line filled and one in the first column of the second horizontal line so you don’t have to spend forever filling up and you don’t run out, or you will have to waste a gem to make another. Excellent hint for those oh so tricky little monsters in the harder acts.

Lvling To 25 And 45

Once you get to lv 20 have someone take you to ancients in normal and you’ll get to lvl 25. Then once you get to lvl 40 have someone take you through hell ancients and you’ll get to lvl 45.

Better Gems

1. I bet everyone knows about gem shrines. They upgrade your gems right? If your me, then your proably having problems finding those gem shrines. Well there is an easy way of doing so. Start a game and go and explore the blood moor. If you don’t find a gem shrine, save and exit. Repeat this process untill your happy what you got. This takes a lot of patience and taks a lot of time. You won’t fine gem shrines everytime you do this.WARNING: if you have your gems in your cube and if you go to a gem shrine, you will get a chipped gem. So keep the gems in your inventory not your cube.2. If you can go to hell or nightmare mood then you’ll have a better time getting gems. Go to the fortress in act 4 and kill enemies. You’ll find A LOT better gems than you would find in the last difficulty. If your lucky you might be able to find some gem shrimes.

Find Items

When you kill a monster or a evil some body you can hear an item fall, but most of the time you can’t see it and have to run your mouse all over the screen and see if it will highlight. Well all you have to do is hold down alt and everything in screen distance be highlighted. This is very very very useful

Best Way To Gain Levels With Necromancer.

(Note: The begginning might suk.but after 20-30 levels it's gonna be smooth-sailing.)Step#1: Once you can.try to MAX ur Iron Maiden and Iron Golem.Step#2: One you think you're ready.(prove it by completing the game first).goto The Secret Cow Level.remember those cows do major damage.that's where Iron Maiden comes in.it's like a better version of Thorns.and Iron Golem also has thorns already.so A:The cows almost kill themselves on contact.B:It's almost one hit KO for ur golem against the cows.:):):)

Windowed Game

Start the game with the “-w” command line parameter to run it in a window on the desktop.

A Cube Formula

Full rejuvination is really handy because it get’s your health and mana up instantly instead of a bit at a time like normal potions. If ya didn’t know . 3 mana + 3 = 1 rejuvination and 3 rejuvination are 1 full. But the real cool thing is: 3 mana + 3 healing + 1 gem = full rejuvination!!!

Translucent Golems!

If you make a Iron golem from a ethernal idem, he or it, will be translucent like the item it came from.

Dueling Tips

Amazon:Against:Amazon: Pretty fair fight try to keep moving and avoiding hits while firing.Assassin: She might put some traps but don't worry use your Summon Amazon Warrior.she'll never catch up to you so.FIRE AWAY!!Barbarian: Keep away.and keep shooting.Druid: This could be hard or easy.if he has lots of minions then your in a bad situation.but if he majors transformation then keep running and firing.Necromancer: Remember go for the Necromance don't waste time on his minions.watch out for his curses and spells.Paladin: Most Paladins use Charge.so you WILL get hit.he's not that hard just keep some potions at hand.Sorceress: Ok.let me get this straight to ALL of you.the Sorceress is INVINCIBLE.not literally but pretty much.you can't get close to her and if you stray too far she'll shoot Ice Orbs which remember has a good long range.well your pretty much on your own here.Assassin:Against:Amazon: Remember try to get close and keep using charg-up and finishing moves.her health will go down fast.but so will yours.Assassin: It's like any fighting game.so try to do as much Combos (3Charge-up+Finishing) as possible.Barbarian: Well he's got the advantage but you still do much damage with your Combos.Druid: Don't waste your time on his minions.though he has minions he can fight too.so put up your dukes.Necromancer: Get near him and smack em HARD!!He's pretty weak.Paladin: He just might have an advantage but you can probably take him down.remember he uses charge a LOT.Sorceress: Ok.let me get this straight to ALL of you.the Sorceress is INVINCIBLE.not literally but pretty much.you can't get close to her and if you stray too far she'll shoot Ice Orbs which remember has a good long range.well your pretty much on your own here.Barbarian:Against:Amazon: Wow watch out for those arrows.I know it seems impossible but keep trying Whirlwind is a good idea.Assassin: Well she might keep you busy but remember to use your Warcries.they can help you a LOT.Barbarians: Hehe.it's just a straight fight.Druid: You might get surrounded by his minions but hack em and go for him.Necromancer: He's history only if go for the actual Necro.Paladin: If you have lots of health then good you will put up a good fight and might win.Sorceress: Ok.let me get this straight to ALL of you.the Sorceress is INVINCIBLE.not literally but pretty much.you can't get close to her and if you stray too far she'll shoot Ice Orbs which remember has a good long range.well your pretty much on your own here.Druid:Against:Amazon: Keep sending your minions and don't get close to her.only go for her when you run out mana.Assassin: Use minions and try to help your minions too.Barbarian: Watch out his Whirlwind can lay waste to your minions.so join the fray and help out with your minions.Necromancer: He's pretty much history.both of your minions will fight each other will you 2 duke it out and you will probably win.Paladin: Remember only use minions for decoy while you smack him hard.Sorceress: Ok.let me get this straight to ALL of you.the Sorceress is INVINCIBLE.not literally but pretty much.you can't get close to her and if you stray too far she'll shoot Ice Orbs which remember has a good long range.well your pretty much on your own here.Necromancer:Against:Amazon: Wow bad situation here.if you chose Necro then you shouldn't be fighting.Barbarian: Wow bad situation here.if you chose Necro then you shouldn't be fighting.Druid: Remember keep summoning and try to fend for yourself.Necromancer: Here you will have a fair chance.Paladin: He'll lay waste to your minions so use Bone Cages etc and keep using your spells.Sorceress: Ok.let me get this straight to ALL of you.the Sorceress is INVINCIBLE.not literally but pretty much.you can't get close to her and if you stray too far she'll shoot Ice Orbs which remember has a good long range.well your pretty much on your own here.Paladin:Against:Amazon: Remember your only way of beating her is Charge.Assassin: Charge then run away.it'll piss her off and slowly kill her.Barbarian: Pretty much a fair fight.use some Auras (Use Hot-Keys).Druid: He will try to outnumber you so only go for the Druid no matter how much damage his minions do.Necromancer: Charge at him until he drops.Paladin: An honorable fight indeed.just Charge.Sorceress: Ok.let me get this straight to ALL of you.the Sorceress is INVINCIBLE.not literally but pretty much.you can't get close to her and if you stray too far she'll shoot Ice Orbs which remember has a good long range.well your pretty much on your own here.Sorceress:Against:Amazon: Use at least a Shield (Ice),Shield (Lighting),Lightining Cloud (Lightning),and use lots of Fire Walls (Fire) and Ice Orbs (Ice).with this you'll be sure to win.Assassin: Use at least a Shield (Ice),Shield (Lighting),Lightining Cloud (Lightning),and use lots of Fire Walls (Fire) and Ice Orbs (Ice).with this you'll be sure to win.Barbarian: Use at least a Shield (Ice),Shield (Lighting),Lightining Cloud (Lightning),and use lots of Fire Walls (Fire) and Ice Orbs (Ice).with this you'll be sure to win.Druid: Use at least a Shield (Ice),Shield (Lighting),Lightining Cloud (Lightning),and use lots of Fire Walls (Fire) and Ice Orbs (Ice).with this you'll be sure to win.Necromancer: Use at least a Shield (Ice),Shield (Lighting),Lightining Cloud (Lightning),and use lots of Fire Walls (Fire) and Ice Orbs (Ice).with this you'll be sure to win.Paladin: Use at least a Shield (Ice),Shield (Lighting),Lightining Cloud (Lightning),and use lots of Fire Walls (Fire) and Ice Orbs (Ice).with this you'll be sure to win.Sorceress: Remember this is magic duel.so you MIGHT lose.

Cow Level

Successfully complete the game to get the Horadaric Cube. Then, obtain “Wert’s Leg” in Tristram (where you go to rescue Deckhard Cain). Go to the northwest part of the town and search the boy’s body. Place both Wert’s leg and a Tome of Town Portal in the Horadaric Cube, and it will open a portal to a hidden level filled with axe carrying cows. Do not go through the portal until you are over level 35 because the cows are quite numerous and strong.

Imbue Without Worry

When you get an item and want to imbue and are worried about the outcome, copy the “Save” folder from the Diablo 2 folder to the desktop or any other location. Start your game and imbue. If you do not like what happened, save the game and exit. You will now be at the main menu again. Press [Alt] + [Tab] and copy the save folder back to its original location. Then click “Single Player Game” and start. You have another chance to imbue the item. Repeat this until you get the desired effect.

Retrieve Items After Death

Save and exit the game after dying. Restart the game, and your corpse will be in town, allowing you to retrieve your possessions.

Avoid No-win Situation

Press [Esc] when facing imminent death, then save and exit the game. Load the game again to start in town, where you can buy weapons, life, etc.

Gain Money And Items Quickly

Travel past the Blood Moor and look for a cave. The cave has two levels, with a golden chest somewhere at the second level. Inside are usually health potions, mana potions, scrolls of town portal or identify, unidentified weapons and armor, and sometimes even a rare item that can be sold for a great deal of money. If you identify the item and it is something that you do not want, sell it. Save and exit the game. The next time the game is loaded, the chest will still be there with different items. This can be done as many times as needed.

More Money For Items

Identify or repair items before selling them.

Infinite One Way Portal

Cast a Town Portal from a safe location, then take the portal into town. Use the waypoint system and run to get back to your last location. This allows you to use the portal to go back into town an unlimited number of times as long as you do not use it from town to return to where you were previously.

Duplicate Items

Note: This trick only works in an Open Battlenet game, as the characters need to be saved on your computer. This trick also requires two computers with two copies of Diablo 2. Get the items to be duplicated. Copy the “Save” folder from the Diablo 2 folder of that computer and paste it on your desktop. Go online with both computers and meet in a game. Give the items to be duplicated to the second computer, then save and exit. Press [Alt] + Tab] on the first computer to switch to Windows and copy the “Save” folder from your desktop back to its original location, overwriting its current contents. Return and join the other computer in the game. You will now have all your original items and the other computer will have a copy of them. Note: This does not work with the +1 Skill book from Act 2, as you are only allowed to do it once.Note: This trick also only works in an Open Battlenet game. Take the item to be duplicated and place it in your inventory. Then, save and exit the game. Next, come back to the game or join a different one. Drop the item you want to duplicate. Make a note of the game name and password, then sign off of your ISP — do not save and quit the game. Have another person in the game keep it open while you are logged off. Sign back on to your ISP, go back into the game, and pick the item that you dropped. It will also still be in your inventory, so you now have two copies of that item.

Cheats

Blank Out Screen

While playing press enter and type “scrollhack1” to blank out the screen. To bring the screen back up press enter and type “scrollhack2”.

A Cacophony Of Sound

During gameplay, press enter. Then type: SOUNDCHAOSDEBUG to hear an uproar of voices and sounds. To turn it off, type it again.

Unlockables

Currently we have no unlockables for Diablo 2 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Easter eggs

Currently we have no easter eggs for Diablo 2 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Glitches

Currently we have no glitches for Diablo 2 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.

Guides

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Currently no guide available.

Achievements

Currently we have no achievements or trophies for Diablo 2 yet. If you have any unlockables please feel free to submit. We will include them in the next post update and help the fellow gamers. Remeber to mention game name while submiting new codes.