#natural bright sunlight my mortal enemy

[cachiko]

yeehaw

[tsuk0mii]

Bitter Truth

traveler f!reader

cw. angst, blood, and destruction - i think that’s all?

note: I hope you all like this one! I just suddenly got the thought of what would happen if traveler got fed up with the people from Teyvat so here I am!

summary: After months of gritting your teeth and biting down your tongue, you finally release your hidden anger.

She was seeing red.

No. She is seeing red.

Huh, the smell of blood is kinda similar to poppy flowers.

"I bled, I killed, I destroyed, I cried, and I laughed. For you. All of you."

Her hair shimmered under the sunlight. Yet, all the coldness of winter was found within her voice. Golden eyes vacant, as if the light escaped from them.

When y/n discovered the world of Tevyat. At first, she thought of a second home—a place of warmth and safety. WRONG. WRONG. A HUGE MISTAKE. But alas, all good things must come to an end. When she saw through the fake sky, and witnessed the cruel reality of this realm. She felt how the whole world stopped being bright. The stars stopped being a beacon of light. The water tasted of copper. The air smelled of burnt flesh and coal. No matter how many times she tried to block it with fights, commissions, and animal hunting. The images returned to her at full force, as if it was an unseen enemy, unable to halt nor counter its attacks. 

USELESS. WEAK. SLOW. IDIOTIC. Those feelings were spreading quickly like a deadly poison, twisting her once soft features into savage snarls. Her mind was like a screaming banshee, demanding answers and hating the universe, despising the gods and resenting destiny for never giving her a choice from the beginning, but that was fine. With her sword, she will create a path. Her own path. Even if it was bloodstained and filled with the corpses of her former comrades. Friendship and kindness be damned. 

She stopped forgiving any vice, they were never really there for her. Companions were merely emotional baggage, if she wanted her journey to be quick, then she simply would have to get rid of unnecessary deadweight.

"And this is how you repay me? I protected your homes, your dreams, and smiles." A pause, as if to catch her raging breath. "Only to receive nothing but simply useless coins and some missing person posters."

The traveler thought of her older brother. Aether, who was never stained by the abyss's darkness. Sweet and caring brother, who wouldn't hesitate to hold out his hand towards any stranger. To give a smile, even when he was breaking inside. To offer help even when he gained no reward. And even when the world itself turned its back on him, Aether kept moving forward. 

The memory of her lost kin made her grit her teeth until it bled and hurt. Gripping her sword until her knuckles were white and hurting her own skin. She failed to protect him. And because of her weakness, he suffered. Powers sealed and reduced to be a mere mortal walking among humans. Again and again. Constantly being used and manipulated like some puppet for those people, for their selfish and pathetic needs. A shadow crossed her face, golden hues glowing like a pair of flames that wanted nothing more to tear down everything that dared to mess with her presence.

"The moment you made him cry, your life was forfeit. None of you will pester my family. EVER AGAIN."

Even if Aether came to hate her. She was okay with that. After all, the little flower everyone cherished has now transformed into a beast of destruction. It was only natural to accept death and defeat at the hands of the hero.

Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

With a mere flick of her wrist, crimson painted the walls of the burned city. Screams of terror, cries of agony, and pleas for help filled the once lively city. Ashes continue to dance along with the wind tainted with the essence of what she has done.

"I shall destroy and plunge your cities, your deities, your homes, and everything you hold dear into nothingness." 

[thecuriousblitz]

Blake the Western Yin (陰) and Yang the Eastern Yang (陽), aka damn.. more RWBY meta

This is a follow-up post to an earlier one I did, where I freaked out over how Yang was inspired by the greatest Chinese martial arts female character ever [TDLR; Yang is 99.9% a literary conduit for a 1959 beloved classic about overcoming personal trauma and conquering life with your soulmate, plus wild Bumbleby allusions.]

Having identified some cool Eastern influences on RWBY meta lore, it was surprising to see just how deep this rabbit hole goes. By the time I’d thought through the philosophical implications of Bumbleby, I was - again - in awe of the rich tapestry of double meanings RWBY gifts us with.

Without further ado: My thesis on why Monty is a frigging genius, in three parts.

Yin and Yang, Part I: Shadow and Light

Most recognize the circular black and white symbol for yin and yang, which at its simplest represents the powerful duality of equal and opposite forces.

Applying classic RWBY name etymology, we know that Blake is derived from the Old English word blæc, meaning ‘dark’, or ‘dark-haired’ (although in very yin and yang style, it’s also a potential derivative of blāc, meaning ‘bright’ or ‘pale’). Hence Blake’s dominant color scheme of black.

And Yang... ah, shit. Yang’s name originates from the Chinese character yang (陽), meaning ‘sunny’ or ‘light’. Correspondingly, her color is yellow. Given that Weiss literally means ‘white’ in German/Yiddish, does this mean the Monochromers among us can declare a checkmate?

Nothing against Monochrome, but the answer is hell no.

Black and white might visually represent yin and yang, but the original Chinese is what gets us to the true heart of the concept:

Without waxing too much on Chinese character components, the character yin (陰) literally translates to ‘shadow’ (the right half ideographically combines the components jin 今 ‘now’ and yun 云 ‘cloud’), while the character yang (陽) as mentioned denotes ‘sun’ and ‘sunlight’ (the right half depicts the sun’s rays shining down). 

Note both characters share the same lefthand component (阝), emphasizing the idea of complementarity; when shadow and light unite, they form a greater, more dynamic whole. 

Given the show’s consistent juxtaposition of Blake with shadows (eg. From Shadows, her semblance, Belladonna referencing ‘nightshade’) and Yang with the sun (eg. I Burn, her semblance, literal name is ‘the sun’) it’s undeniable that RWBY’s true yin and yang are Blake and Yang.

Others have expounded on how their characters and fighting styles complement each other, ie. Blake is withdrawn and prefers evasive combat, whereas Yang is extroverted and prefers head-on combat. Much has also been said about Blake and Yang’s complementary colors of purple and yellow (we’ll get to that later).

But allusions to yin and yang imply a deeper connection between the two. It suggests not only that Blake and Yang complement each other, but one is incomplete - cannot exist, even - without the other. Why? Because shadow is the absence of light, and vice versa. Without one, the other loses meaning. Without night there is no day, without disorder there is no order... without Blake (yin) there is no Yang (yang).

Yin and Yang, Part II: The Tiger and The Dragon

Now there’s a lot of shit out there around the different manifestations of yin and yang, so I’m sticking to a particularly relevant one that’s common knowledge in East Asian culture: the Tiger and the Dragon.

The old Chinese proverb “龍爭虎鬥” (roughly translated ‘the dragon makes war, the tiger does battle’) reflects classic yin and yang symbolism. It refers to the conflict between equally matched spirits who are as different from each other as shadow and light, but at the same time are strangely kindred and interdependent. “Mortal enemies intricately linked together by destiny,” as some have put it.

In RWBY, no two characters fit this angsty Tiger (yin) and Dragon (yang) dynamic better than Blake and Yang.

For one, Yang Xiao Long (陽小龍) translated means ‘Sunny Little Dragon’.

Blake... well, Blake is a literal cat.

Furthermore, the tiger is a ground animal representing Earth, and is thus traditionally positioned slightly lower in the yin-yang swirl relative to the dragon, a winged creature connected to Heaven (and by extension, the sun). In their interactions with each other, the tiger’s momentum tends to be from the ground upwards ↑, while the dragon’s is sky downwards ↓. Irrefutable evidence that Blake is a bottom. 

This earthbound tiger/airborne dragon dynamic tracks Blake and Yang’s respective emotional journeys incredibly well, both individually and in relation to each other. I love how the lyrics in dedicated Blake/Yang/Bumbleby soundtracks make this explicit:

From Shadows/I Burn: Blake, being a Faunus and raised in the White Fang, grows up feeling ‘born into subjugation’, ‘crushed’ by human rule, and vows to ‘rise above ↑’ the darkness ie. the conditions forced on her and her people. Yang’s relatively carefree nature, on the other hand, has her challenging enemies to shoot their rockets as high as they can, because in true dragon-style, she’s soaring way above and will ‘take them down ↓’.

All That Matters: Following the loss of Yang’s arm, Blake’s departure, and their eventual reunion, their dynamic has shifted. The lines ‘Thought that I could pull you from the shadows / Maybe help you find your wings and fly’ indicates a more subdued Yang, who in attempting to protect and get Blake to open up to her, has had her own figurative wings clipped, and is grappling not only with defeat, but also the difficulty of ‘pinning down ↓’ someone who has betrayed her trust.

Nevermore: This is Blake and Yang’s song following Adam’s defeat, a resounding confirmation of their growth as individuals and as a couple (’Not dying now, we're protecting our own’). That the title of the song is ‘Nevermore’ - a Grimm born of shadow, but one that shares the dragon’s ability to soar, is a really cool nod to the balance found between Blake’s yin and Yang’s yang. It was in acknowledging, not erasing, past mistakes (shadows) that freedom was finally found.

Yin and Yang, Part III: Purple and Yellow

This one is straightforward. We all know the color of Blake and Yang’s eyes, clothing accents and auras mirror each other. But something else I’d missed before - purple has traditionally been associated with royalty and power... in the European West. 

The color associated with power, and traditionally reserved only for emperors and empresses in Chinese/Eastern culture? Yellow.

Our resident RWBY yin and yang duo not only manifest royalty in their respective domains and symbolically bring together East and West; but more importantly, when Blake looks at Yang, and Yang looks at Blake...  

Both see a literal queen in the other.

In conclusion, thank you Monty for orchestrating this exquisite story; one that teaches us beauty and balance are found in each other’s diversity.

[fancytrinkets]

WIP whenever

Thanks, like always, for tagging me @johaeryslavellan. I’m writing like 10-15 chapters ahead of myself in my current Trevelyan/Dorian fic and so that’s my WIP right now: the moment right after Corypheus dies.

Unthinking, as though moved by instinct alone, Galen holds out his hand. The anchor is an open channel, alight with the pulsing green magic that vibrates through his arm. It doesn't hurt, not exactly, as he reaches towards the broken creature knelt before him. With a flick of his wrist, he opens the rift that will tear Corypheus apart.

And then it's done.

The breach is closed, the enemy destroyed. And he realizes with a sharply-dawning panic that Corypheus' magic is the only thing that's been keeping the cliffside aloft. The remnants of that power are fading swiftly. Already the stone is shaking underfoot — and with dreadful certainty Galen knows what's coming next. He's simply too high up, and the fall is too great a distance for any mortal person to survive. This is it then. His story is almost written, just a few lines left to set down: The inevitable plummet to break against the rocks, his body so fragile against the uncaring, unyielding power of natural forces. And after that, his death, the blood spilling dark and liquid, a pool of ink on the final page.

Unless.

His hope flares bright and desperate. He's tired, so tired now, but if he can cast a barrier then perhaps he can keep himself safe. He searches frantically in his pockets for the lyrium potion — and finds nothing. He must have dropped the last one. It's gone, and the last of his hopes are gone with it. That's it then. The fall will be swift and deadly — and it's starting already. The ground beneath his feet trembles and then everything starts to give way.

It seems to happen so slowly. Galen looks up at the sky where the breach, now sealed, is still disappearing. It dissipates like clouds burning off in the heat of the desert sun. He knows about that, because he's seen how it happens — the morning sun rising red above sand-colored mountains, the air perfumed with juniper. He knows, because he has camped beneath the open sky in a desert so vast that it awes him to silence. He has stood at the brink of a shoreline precipice looking out over blue-black waves, churning and heaving as they crash against the cliffs of the Storm Coast. He's walked the cheerful forests near Redcliffe with footpaths cutting through them, dappled by afternoon sunlight that shifts as the wind moves through the canopy above. He's seen so much of this terrible, beautiful world now because of the anchor.

And perhaps that's not so bad for a Circle mage.

He only that hopes that Dorian will forgive him for dying — and that's it, his very last thought as the shockwave of hitting the earth passes through him, its power undiminished. It tears and ravages as it moves, twisting bone and rending flesh.

And it's the strangest sensation, all motion and turmoil, and he feels torn apart — not by pain but by the simple heartbreak of kindness. Because it's suddenly everywhere, a surrounding presence, not a rare and powerful spirit that can vanquish all ills. It's just a small thing, like a wisp, barely noticeable by itself. But that's the thing — it isn't one; it's many. They're all there, all around him. The open channel of the anchor is calling them forth. Dozens of spirits, small and benign with waves of healing energy coursing through each of them.

Galen crashes against the jagged, broken stone. His body breaks, but his wounds are healed, knit together and fully mended in the same instant that the damage is done...

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (5/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic depiction of violence, disturbing imagery for sensible minds. Reader’s discretion is advised.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 5/? (1606 words)

Author’s notes : (at the end)

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“Run, little rabbit.”

My heart sank into my stomach. Time seemed engulfed in syrup, for a second. The cup dropped from my fingers. It took forever to shatter into the ground. The sticky feeling of the splatter on my boots snapped me back to reality. I slipped away from his grasp. His hands trailed on my body as long as he could before I made my way out. I could hear his soft laughter as I disappeared into the corridors. There was no way. No way this was happening. The boots made an impossible ammount of noise on the stone floor. Even if he couldn’t hear me, I bet he could smell the blood soaking up the hem of my skirt.

I wouldn’t survive to see the next day. I was going to die, here. Turns out I might have had a better chance with an axe murderer, I bitterly thought to myself.

Focus. I paced my breathing, trying to make sense of the situation. Run ? Couldn’t outrun him. Hide ? He would find me, and fast. My throat started burning, and an incomfortable metallic taste settled in my mouth. I slowed down, walking on the tip of the boots not to have the wooden heel clank at every step. There goes flight, now to see about fight. He was very obviously far stonger than me. Unarmed, I didn’t have a chance.

The armory. I took a left, and found the expected dopuble doors. Locked, of course. Fuck. Alright, think. He may have some sort of weak point. Had to believe legends, for lack of better reference. Apparently, sunlight did little to nothing. There was staking, but had yet to find a stake. Silver was a thing. But why would he have anything in his home that might harm him ?

He wouldn’t. But others would. The coin from the village. Blessing my goblin nature that had me keep it all along, I fumbled into the skirt’s pocket to find it still there. Alright, that was one thing. I might even find more into the village. That was, if I ever made it there. A voice broke the silence.

“Ready or not, here I come !”

It echoed through the halls, yet felt like it came from inside my head. Hide. Hide now. Next door was slightly ajar. Excrutiatingly slowly, I pushed it open, praying every god out there not to have it creak. I slithered inside, in the semi-darkness. The windows were obscured by thick drapes, only having thin rays of silver light seep through. I glanced around, frantically searching for anything that could be made into a stabbing device.

Come on, anything. My eyes finally laid on a trophy, mounted on the wall, over the hearth. Roe deer antlers, still attached to the top part of the skull. Antlers. Pointy Wood. I grabbed the nearest pedestal table, and brought it to the fireplace. Hiking my skirt up, I climbed over it to reach the trophy, ripping the antlers off. Not caring about the noise it would make, I snapped the skull in half, pocketed one, and gripped the other.

Everything was eeriely silent. I found myself shaking. Breathe. Focus. I moved to the room’s door, laying my ear against the panel, closing my eyes to hear better. Nothing. Nothing, until the door started to open. Miracuulously holding in a gasp, I moved back, and flattened myself against the wall. The door spun out on its hinges, and the tall silhouette of the Count stepped in, not making a single sound as he moved to the fireplace. He took hold of the wooden plaque that had been holding the trophy moments sooner.

“You’ve been here… What did you find, I wonder, little rabbit…”

I held my breath. He was turning his back on me. Maybe… Slowly, mindful of every step, I moved to the entrance, eyes locked on his tall figure. I reached the doorframe.

“I can see you, darling.”

He tilted his head back, a large grin revealing a line of long, jagged fangs and teeth, too many, too large, almost like his jaw was unhinged. His eyes were glowing from the inside, and seemed entirely dark, not a trace of white in the sclera. Move. Move ! I took back control of my body as he started to walk towards me, a guttural laughter, like a hyena’s, escaping from deep into his chest. Forcing myself off the horrifying sight, I blinked off the tears that started welling up in my eyes, and ran as fast as I possibly could through the corridors. Get out. Get the fuck out.

My hand started to sting. The protusions of the antlers started digging into my skin. I didn’t care. Run. The hall. Rushing to the door, I tried to open it. Locked. My stomach turned so violently I almost gagged. Maybe there was another issue, somewhere. I turned to the next buiding. In a second, he was there. Before I could think of using my weapon, he ripped the makeshift stake out of my hand. Beads of blood gushed from my palms, which had him snarl like a famished beast. I thought to use the distraction to run. He grasped at my throat, raising me in the air. A scream escaped my mouth like a choked gurgling sound. I started to see lights dancing in front of my eyes. Not like this. Not like… this…

The coin. Using the last of my consciousness to grab the small piece of metal in my pocket, shaking, I slapped it on the back of his hand. Shrieking, he let me fall back on the floor, not releasing his grip. I gasped for air, as he cursed at me in his native tongue, his voice sounding like dozens, filling the room. In a single push, my feet left the stone floor, and I flew back, right through the window.

I felt the glass shatter against my back, slice through my skin. All seemed silent, except for the shimmering of the shards, all around me. The sky, so bright. I hit the ground, the air winding out of my chest as I crashed through the snow. A second then, the Count was hunched over me, mouth agape, feral, hissing.

“Not bad, for a rabbit”, he growled.

His mouth twisted in a deranged manner of rictus, deformed, terrifying. He grabbed my injured hand, watching the blood seeping down onto my wrist. Shaking with anticipation, he pressed a kiss to my palm. I felt only teeth, and his tongue. As soon as it touched my skin, I couldn’t repress a soft cry. A jolt of electricity ran through my body.

Everything was red.

My feet, ankle deep in translucent water, laid above golden sand. The sky, purple above, fading to yellow to the horizon, where a large, ominous sun was setting over the water. There was nothing else.

“Where am I ?”, I asked, to myself.

“Where you want to be”, the Count replied.

He was standing next to me, as barefoot as I was into the water. He looked calm, peaceful, watching the sun. Nothing hurt anymore. A wonderful feeling of warmth, happiness, washed over me, as soft wrinkles of water licked at my feet.

“What is happening ?”

“You are a very clever prey, but I am a better hunter”, he told me.

He gave me a soft smile, almost… Sad. Disappointed, maybe.

“Am I dead ?”

“Not yet.”

I slipped my hand into my pocket. Not yet. I thrust my arm toward the sun. Next to me, the Count suddenly coughed up a splutter of blood. Considering the black liquid, softly dripping away on his hand, he then lifted his eye to see the second antler, secure in my hand.

Everything was white.

The sudden rush of pain was unbearable for a moment. The antler secure in my hands, it rested on my chest, the pointed end buried in the Count’s heart. I pushed him off with all of my remaining forces, and he fell over to the side.

“Clever… Rabbit…”, he gasped.

A hint of laughter started, for a second. Then, nothing. Unable to move, I focused on breathing. Cold air. Every cut stung. Every breath had me crying out in pain. A muffled noise had me twist my head back. Soon, I felt the coarse hairs of a horse’s muzzle on my forehead.

“You again”, I croaked. “Don’t have any apples. Leave.”

The stubborn thing stayed, poking at the side of my head with his. I groaned, and painstakingly managed to sit up. The old thing lowered his head, and I grabbed at his neck. He slowly raised up, and so I did too. To be fair, this wasn’t the weirdest thing happening today. In the red snow, he didn’t seem dead. The makeshift stake deep into his chest, his eyes hadn’t turned glassy, cloudy. He looked like he slept, eyes open.

Not much inclined to test that theory, I took a deep breath, and hoisted myself onto the beast, groaning with pain. I grabbed a handful of his mane, careful not to hurt him. Fighting to stay upright, I didn’t give a second look to the castle as I left, nor at the tall silhouette lying dead on the frozen ground.

Had I been more keen to read on legends, to give credit to myth, I might have learned something very important. Something, which, in retrospect, I should have been weary of.

Only a stake made of white oak may kill a vampire.

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Author’s notes : And here's the end of part one ! I might take a few days' break before I continue with the rest, but be sure that this story isn't finished. I promised romance, I promised slow burn, and we only got to the burn part yet. Get ready for some mortal enemies to lovers, my guys.

Stay tuned...

Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder

[sleepyfan-blog]

Vows

Fandom: UTMV

characters: Dream sans, Ink Sans, Swap Sans, Underfell Sans, Nightmare sans

pairing: dreammare

word count: 2,185

warnings: unhealthy relationship, forced marriage, cursing

Summary: a ficlet based off of this wonderful picture by @littlepigart

Dream smiles happily up at his other half - as Nightmare was currently sitting up in one of the lower branches of their home. A crown of yellow flowers that he has weaved himself rests crookedly on his head as he didn't want it getting tangled with his circlet "Moonbeam, would you please come down for a minute?" He is holding behind his back a crown of bright purple flowers that remind him of the other, and he wants to give it to Night.

Sure thing, Sunlight." Nightmare murmurs, marking the page of the book he was reading and swinging himself down onto the grassy ground, walking over to him "Did you need something?"

Dream shook his head and responded "Nope! I wanted to give you something, Night!" He holds out the carefully made flower crown for the other to take.

"Aww... Thanks... You know, the mortals give each other gifts like this when they're courting one another... You know that you don't have to do stuff like that... We're always going to be together." The young guardian of negativity pointed out logically.

"I... I know. But I want to marry you when I grow up!" The young positive spirit responded. They had only existed for a brief period, and he loved Nightmare deeply and truly. Dream was also sure that no matter what happened, he would always love Nightmare.

Nightmare went a bright shade of purple and hid his face in his hands after a couple of moments "I... I love you too,  Dream. Once we're of age by Mortal standards, we'll get married alright?"

Dream beamed happily and nodded in response to that, purring contentedly as he hugged his other half. Nightmare hugged him back, smiling warmly and had begun to pet the top of his skull "We'll get married one day, Dream. That's a promise. And I try to keep my promises, especially to you. Do you want to have a big party, like some of the wealthier mortals, have?"

Dream shakes his head "No... I'd rather it be small... Filled only with people who we care about, and who cares for both of us... Maybe at the base of the tree? Wed exchange promises, wearing flower crowns that we've made each other... Maybe even getting rings- or carving or making each other! Maybe in the springtime, when the flowers are blooming and the meadow is really pretty?"

"Oh, that would be nice... Maybe at dusk, or at night, when the stars are out, and the moon is glowing softly?" Nightmare suggested with a small grin, seemingly wanting up further to the idea.

"Yeah! That sounds really nice!" Dream purred, content to cuddle in close with Nightmare. The villagers were celebrating some sort of holiday involving loved ones and family, so Dream had decided to spend the day with Nightlight. Although some of the villagers had seemed kind of disappointed to hear him say that for some reason.

Dream shook himself mentally as he snapped out of that memory - it was one of the memories he had held tight to his soul and treasured, even as any good time with Nightmare had become better sweet at best, as he had woken from a stasis spell and found himself a thousand years in the future, with his other half ruling a large swathe of the multiverse, and their home timeline a decayed, miserable and lifeless wreck. He had spent decades on the run, finding allies and losing some of them just as quickly, fleeing from the dust-hungry tyrant that chased after him, fighting the other only when he absolutely had to, as the power imbalance on raw power alone was laughably terrifying.  Those innocent promise and innocuous plans... He had never expected them to be fulfilled - especially in such a ghoulish caricature.

Nightmare's generals and top people filled most of the neatly arranged rows - but he and his dearest friend sand allies had been captured weeks ago. Nightmare had offered him a choice-

Which had been no true choice at all. Watch as his friends get killed one by one, or marry Nightmare, promising to never again knowingly or willingly work against him ever again, in exchange for the freedom of his friends.  But several of Dream's allies were here - recently captured, but Nightmare had promised that they would be set free and escorted out of Nightmare's territory as soon as the ceremony - and the afterparty - was over... And the worst thing about it was that Dream probably wouldn't have had to be coerced like this, anyways. If Nightmare had just asked to marry him, he might have said yes, as he loves the other even in this awful moment. 

His wedding outfit all black. He was wearing a black button down shirt with a matching colored bow tied around the collar, black slacks and a pair of black socks and black formal shoes. Even the veil he was wearing - thin and see-through as it was, was black. The only bit of color on him was his golden circlet, which rested where it usually did on his head. His eye lights were dimly lit circles, and his expression was a neutrally-resigned expression. Dream could see his captured friends standing on one side, their arms tied behind their back - were they... Were they part of the wedding party? Nightmare's lieutenants were lined up on the opposing side, and everyone looked sharply dressed in all black - hints of gold in his friend's outfits. 

He shut off his eye lights briefly as he heard the wedding march begin to play, and he walked down the carpeted strip of flooring, noting with a silent sigh that there were magical cameras filming this. So this was being broadcasted across Nightmare's domain, was it? Fantastic. Not only were there dozens of Nightmare's minions watching this spectacle go down, thousands if not millions more were seeing this live. He takes careful, measured steps down so as to not trip over his own feet, not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of so many enemies. He takes his place next to and slightly behind Nightmare, looking at the Angelfell Sans who has been conscripted to officiate the wedding.

Dream can't really focus on the words that the other is saying - not when Nightmare is so close and he can feel one of the other's tendrils messing with his veil, acutely aware of what is shortly to come and  doing his best to remember his vows, repeating them over and over in his mind.

The ceremony felt like it took forever and also as if it was over in a blink of an eye light as the Angelfell Sans stated "If there is anyone here who has any reason to state why these two shouldn't get married, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

the silence in the room was deafening, and Dream wondered if someone would be foolish enough to speak. From the expressions he could see on Blue's and Ink's faces, they had some choice words. He shook his head minutely at them - catching and keeping eye contact with an openly infuriated Red and Nebula - who looked like he was about to pass out or vomit.

The Angelfell Sans spoke up "You may now speak your vows, and give each other the floral crowns and rings to signify your commitment to one another."

Dream blinked for a moment of confusion, turning as a Havenfell Frisk and a Horrorswap Chara had come up behind them, one holding a pillow with two... Two flower crowns. One made of golden flowers, the other violet that reminded him so much of the flowers he had once given to Nightmare, so long ago- and he recognized the wood that those rings were made from. The sight of both things nearly sent him to his knees, sobbing. 

Nightmare's smirk was broad as he grabbed the violet flowers with surprisingly gentle hands, gesturing for Dream to kneel, which he did so, trembling only a little as he did so "The flower crowns are a tradition of our home timeline, which I know you are aware, but no one else is. I made this crown while thinking of you, my dearly beloved. Long have I yearned for the two of us to become one in this way, and I love you dearly. I give you this crown to symbolize my care for you, and the promise that my love and faithfulness towards you will be as unbroken as an endless circle." Nightmare pauses for dramatic effect as he takes the wooden ring - carved with runes that Dream can only begin to guess their nature of "For a more... Widely accepted vow and symbol: I promise to LOVE and protect you, for better and for worse, as long as we both shall live." He slides the ring on Dream's left finger, as is a tradition for a surprising number of AUs, and helps him up to his feet. Every word of it sounding like cruel mockery in Dream's metaphorical ears. 

Tears shine in his eye sockets as he grabs the golden flowers, the shaking in his hands getting worse. As he had expected, Nightmare does not kneel, forcing Dream to go up on his tiptoes, his arms extending upwards - as Nightmare is over a foot taller than he is and he speaks, praying that his voice doesn't sound as terrified and miserable as it sounds to himself "With this crown... I offer to you my love and fidelity. I will stay by... Your side. Long have I yearned for the two of us to be as one, and I... I love you with all my... With all my heart." Tears threaten to spill down his cheeks, but the lights are bright, everyone is watching and he can feel the cameras glare down at him. He can't slip now - he doesn't know what Nightmare will do if he does. He allows himself a couple of seconds as he grabs the ring, fingers trembling worse now. "I promise to love, honor and obey you, in sickness and in health. I swear to protect and care for you and those whom you care for... For as long... As long as both of us will live."

Both he and Nightmare say at the same time, and Dream feels the magic bind him to his word, the ring tightening a little on his finger "So mote it be, from this moment to the end of the multiverse." he feels his magic and Nightmare's flare for a moment.

There is a pause and the Angelfell Sans states "You may now kiss your spouse."

Nightmare does not hesitate to scoop him up with a tendril around the waist, bringing hip up and closer still, so that the two of them can kiss. Dream distantly hears a whimper. He's not sure if he is the one who's whimpering, or if one of his friends is. There is a lot of clapping and shouted congratulations to Nightmare. Dream feels dizzy and unsure as he is whisked off to the afterparty, held firmly in Nightmare's tentacles. They go through the traditional dances together before he is introduced to every unfamiliar face who had been invited by Nightmare to the wedding. Name sand faces blended together in his mind, and the small, fake smile on his face that he uses, and the false-cheer in his voice breaking his own soul piece by piece. His friends have been corralled in a corner by Nightmare's lieutenants, and the party goes very well.

Once all but the wedding party have left, hours upon hours later, Dream sort of collapses into Nightmare, and murmurs quietly "You... You promised. Please? Please... Nightmare please!"

"What? What did that fucker promise in return for this farce?!" Blue hisses, struggling a little in his restraints. 

"Dream and I have promised each other that we would wed centuries ago. Long before your timeline was barely a thought in a creator's wild fever dreams." Nightmare snapped, glaring a little at Red "But as agreed, once the wedding was over, I would send your friends home." With a wave of his hand,  Ink, Blue, Red, Outer, and Comic are unbound and fall through separate portals into different timelines. Surprise, horror, and shock are on their faces as they tumble and fall out of sight. "Now, I can tell that you are tired from the day's events... As am I - let us be off and rest together in our marriage bed." Nightmare purred, his tendrils wrapping more firmly around Dream as he teleported off to the castle - using a portal as he had not used the timeline his main base was in for them to wed.

A wave of exhaustion crashes through Dream and he nods, the low positivity of this new timeline not helping anything whatsoever "As... As you wish... Husband..." A single tear runs down his face as his eye lights fade out as Dream slips from consciousness. he has no idea what his future will hold, and he is terrified at the prospect of what is to come.

[avid-author-activist]

The Princess Andromeda (1): I Crash A Date

(read it on ao3!)

Blackjack’s wings skimmed the waves below as we dipped towards the Atlantic. The salty sea spray filled the air, dissipating a little of the anxiety curdling in my stomach. I glanced at my pocket, where I kept a picture of my girlfriend, Silena. She’d seemed nervous before I’d left camp today, but these days, everyone was jumpy.

“You don’t have to do this, Charlie,” she’d told me. “Let someone else go instead of you.”

I pulled her in for a hug. “It’ll all be okay,” I reassured her. “It’s just another routine mission.”

“No… no, it won’t,” she sniffled against my chest. “I have a bad feeling about this, Charlie.”

“Hey, you’ll see. I’ll come back, just you wait,” I promised. “But I have to go now.”

As she pulled away, I saw a silver bracelet glinting on her wrist. There was only one charm on it, like a moon or something. I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but—“Stay safe,” Silena said, and I was alarmed to see tears shining in her eyes. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

I felt a lump in my throat. “Bye, Lena.” The words stuck in my mouth.

With an effort, I pulled myself back to the present. We were spiralling higher over the Atlantic, flying parallel to a couple seagulls. Some part of me wanted to put out my hand and touch one, but the glint in its eyes gave me pause. Blackjack shook his mane and flew higher, like he wanted to get away from the birds too. Man, even the horse knew seagulls were evil.

“There they are,” I said. As the mainland came into view, I could see a Prius parked right on the ridge above the ocean. If I squinted, I thought I could make out the outline of Percy in the driver’s seat. Blackjack tossed his head again, as if in acknowledgement. Not for the first time, I wondered if he was able to understand me.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said aloud.

The pegasus snorted.

As we got closer, I finally recognized the girl sitting in the passenger seat. Frizzy red hair pulled back into a ponytail, freckles, peeling sunburn. That could only be Rachel Dare, the girl Percy might or might not have a crush on. I said might not because I’d seen the way he and Annabeth looked at each other. Silena gushed about those two all the time:

“When are they going to start dating? If Percy doesn’t ask her out soon, I think I’ll die!”

“Alright, Lena,” I always said. If it happened, it happened, and if it didn’t, it didn’t. That was my philosophy on couples. But Silena always listened to my rambles about armor and smelting, so I listened to her attempts at matchmaking.

I fought the urge to reach for the photo of her in the pocket of my shorts.

Then—WUMP-WUMP-CRUNCH! Blackjack stomped across the hood of Percy’s car, leaving horse hoof indents in the metal and almost throwing me off in the process. Way to make an entrance.

“Blackjack!” I groaned. If a horse could shrug, Blackjack would have.

I sighed and put my head in my hands. Percy hadn’t turned sixteen yet, so that Prius had to belong to his parents. They were going to kill him… if he survived our mission. Maybe they’d be mad enough to dig him up and kill him again.

“Blackjack, what are you–” Percy looked up. His eyes met mine. Act natural!

“‘Sup, Percy.” I nodded and waved, trying not to look concerned about the fact that I was sitting on a pegasus that had just trampled the hood of his car. Not that natural!

“Time?” Percy asked, trying and failing to look upbeat. Rachel pursed her lips. I looked back and forth between the two of them. It looked like they had been on a date… had they been on a date? I took a mental note to tell Silena later.

Rachel looked up at me. “Hi.” Her startling green eyes reflected the sunlight. She wore a white blouse, bird-shaped earrings, and... mascara? According to Percy, Rachel never wore makeup.

Yep, I had definitely been that guy that interrupted your normal date by landing a pegasus on your car.

I waved, trying to ignore the heat rising in my face. “Oh, hey, I’m Beckendorf.” I almost expected her to snicker at my last name. A ton of people did, mostly the immature rich kids at my old middle school. “You must be Rachel. Percy’s told me… uh, I mean he mentioned you.”

“Really? Good,” Rachel said, quirking an eyebrow. The expression reminded me of Silena for the third time in probably five minutes. I tried to block her face out of my mind, just temporarily. If I lost focus like that on the cruise ship… well. That wouldn’t end happily for Percy, me, or Western civilization.

Blackjack pawed at the hood, which flattened alarmingly. Not for the first time, I wished he came with reins and a saddle. What was I supposed to do in this situation, talk to the horse? “Whoa,” I said under my breath. The pegasus ignored me and kept beating up the car.

“So I guess you guys have to go save the world now,” Rachel said, glancing at Blackjack. She seemed incredibly calm about the entire thing. I remembered Percy mentioning she could see through the Mist.

“Pretty much,” I said.

Percy looked at Rachel. “Would you tell my mom–”

“I’ll tell her. I’m sure she’s used to it. And I’ll explain to Paul about the hood.” I could see what Percy saw in Rachel now. She was mortal, yeah, but she also kept an incredibly cool head in weird mythological situations. And she was really pretty in her own way.

“Good luck.” Rachel leaned in and kissed Percy on the mouth. He turned brick red. I managed to turn my laugh into a cough as he glared at me. “Now, get going, half-blood. Go kill some monsters for me,” she said.

Percy clambered onto Blackjack’s back with a last wave to his date. The pegasus spread his wings and launched us into the sky. I swallowed, watching the ground recede beneath us, replaced by glittering blue waves. Pegasus takeoff always made me a little sick.

“So,” I joked, once my stomach had settled. “I guess you don’t want me to mention that little scene to Annabeth.”

Percy groaned. “Oh, gods. Don’t even think about it,” he said.

I grinned. “Just pulling your leg, Jackson—wouldn’t dream of it.”

To pass the time, I studied Blackjack’s wings as we soared in circles over the ocean. They seemed way too brittle to get a horse and two armored demigods into the air, but somehow they did. If I could copy and modify the design, I could build a sweet war chariot. Sure, the chariot would have wings, but that just added to the cool factor.

The sun sank slowly over the horizon, turning the sky and sea to gold. The only sounds now were those of the ocean waves below us and Blackjack’s steady wingbeats. I breathed in the salty air, grounding myself in the moment. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if it was the last sunset I would ever see.

As the sky purpled into twilight and the first stars came out, the Princess Andromeda appeared over the horizon. The ship gleamed gold and silver in the night, bobbing gently in the waves. Suddenly, it seemed like a large and flashy piece of bait, waiting to trap unsuspecting demigods—us—with the larger and scarier monsters aboard. It was so bright that whenever I glanced away from it, spots appeared in my vision. Even so, I noted that the craftsmanship was perfect, and I felt a twinge of regret that we had to destroy such a beautiful work of art.

In my head, I ran through the countless dry runs we’d done over the last few weeks. Get in, plant the explosives, get out as soon as possible. It was a simple plan, but it had every chance of going wrong.

Blackjack dove parallel to the ship, and I thanked the gods that he wasn’t a white pegasus, or we would’ve been spotted for sure. As we sped pasrt, I glimpsed decks stuffed with countless monsters—telekhines and dracaenae, for the most part. If Kronos had his way, they would all be in New York by tomorrow. My blood ran cold at the thought. We have to stop them.

The lowest stern deck was deserted. Blackjack spread his wings and landed gently. I slid off his back, a hand on the hilt of my sword. Part of me tensed, expecting the alarm to be raised any time now, but everything was silent.

"I think we're clear," Percy whispered. I nodded in agreement, checking to make sure the explosives were secure in my bag. 

Blackjack took off into the night, leaving us alone in enemy territory. I watched him disappear on the horizon, praying that we would both live to see him again.

I told myself to stop being morbid. Percy and I would both be fine. No one knew we were here.

But what if they did? What if they were expecting us, and this was all just one big trap?

Stop thinking about the what-ifs, I scolded myself. What was it that the Athena campers always said? Anything can and will happen. Worrying about it won’t change the outcome.

I took the picture of Silena from my pocket. She seemed more beautiful than ever, even by the dim light of Percy’s sword. I decided to ignore my earlier resolution to keep her from my mind. If anything were to happen, I wanted to have her in my thoughts.

“We’ll get back to camp,” Percy said, coming up behind me. I almost jumped a foot into the air. I tucked away the picture, part of me embarrassed that he had seen.

“You bet.” I tried to bury my fears. I couldn't let them mess with my head on this mission. “Let’s go blow Kronos back into a million pieces.”

[queensdivas]

A Damned Soul Chapter 2 (A Gwil Fan Fic)

It’s all coming together! WHOOP WHOOP! If you would like to be tagged please let me know! If you got requests on one of the Bohrap boys or the dads! Please feel free to request! I hope you all enjoy because holy shit this is getting fun to write! 

@mexifangorl @leah-halliwell92 @bonafiderocketqueen @i-live-for-queen @its-funny-til-its-not @b-i-g-i-r-l-b-i @teathymewithben @mayofbrian @brianmydear @i-live-for-queen 

Previous Chapter 

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Masterlist 

He viewed the world as the first cinematograph when he would be walking around this mortal world. The people in constant motion, the quality of viewing, and even trying to add the old piano music along for the ride. It was the only thing that was keeping him sane before walking into a church to drown himself in holy water. 

Fixing his black gloves as the coat man took his cloak off the from the hanger. He placed his dark purple hat on top of his head then prepared himself for the walk out to start his day. Breakfast was on his mind Walking out to the cool evening as the world changed into the fast moving of what he saw. 

Till his eyes drifted to her..is when the reality of how the world looks would come back to his sight. Hundreds of times he’s witnessed this moment...words still manage to fall short in this instance. It was how she carried herself around the world when he would see her. Always walking with a destination to go..strong footsteps..not light like some kind of fae.

To him..she was an absolute Goddess…

She walked down the street with a basket full of pastries to take home with her which I’m assuming was her little herb shop down the street from my home. Till a bum came running behind her, pushing her down and snatching her basket. 

“Thank you for the free pastries! You bitch!” He screamed as I held my cane up to hit him on his leg, collapsing before me and basically rolling all over the sidewalk in pain. Grabbing the basket from the ground as she dusted off her dress then smiling as I handed her basket back to her. 

“Ummm..thank you Sir Lee.” Her eyes always looked down when we would first come into contact. But never doing the lifting of the chin so we could meet. It was seeing her standing before me in embarrassment or even humility. 

The sunset was causing a little sunburned was beginning form which was time for me to get into the next building. Tipping my hat to her as I moved swiftly past her but her eyes lingering as they always do after we first meet.. 

“Wait..Sir Lee..if it’s not too much of a burden..may I ask… Oh never mind you look like in a hurry.” 

“No please..your want is my command.” She gulped as she hid her face again from me..I don’t mean to frighten her. Just these precious moments seem to fly by so damn quickly. 

“I know it’s not far..but will you please walk me home..if it’s out of your way then never mind. Oh never mind you’re too busy!” She scurried off before I could even give her my answer..which will always be yes.... 

When it comes to the sunlight and vampires. It is your enemy yes..but you won’t burst into a pile ashes with being in it. Eventually they become a little resistant to it so going outside to the world with the sun won't kill them. It’ll hurt a little bit at first so basically it’s like they’re getting a very bad sunburn. Luckily for Gwil. He’d been alive since the 7th century so the sun hadn’t been a major issue to keep himself alive. Still hurts after a little bit. 

In his bright red 63’ Corvette Stingray which stuck out like a sore thumb, traveling up along the coast in the strong winds of the night traveling along with him. He was determined that this would be the last time..or would just stay outside on the sunniest day of the year.

Parking at the cottage as the sun was already setting creating a gorgeous orange backdrop of what he would be viewing for when he wakes up from his slumber. The realtor came out of the cottage with her perky smile on her face and a large yellow folder for all the paperwork he has to sign. 

“Mr. Lee! It’s truly a pleasure doing business with you!” She shook my hand with her eyes trailing up and down my body. I can’t tell you how many damn times these women just keep staring at me like I’m some sort of eye candy to them. Quite revolting.

“Now you’re more than welcome to walk around to see how the movers got everything put together and ready to go.” This isn’t the first home I’ve had to buy over the millennials. Usually my home has been a castle, some large mansion, and large flat on a square. 

Sitting on top of the hill the cottage sat that was a pearl white color but was also a little into the hill so the top would be covered in grass. Keeps a nice natural temperature for the house. My new home was a little smaller than most of the grand places I’ve lived before. As in it’s not a castle, a mansion, or even large flat on the square. It had a living room, a bedroom that is pitch black..for obvious reasons. No kitchen which makes the living room much larger. Then of course a bathroom. 

“Now regarding the whole no kitchen. I can always expand the cottage for some room for a tiny little kitc.

“No kitchen needed. I plan on doing most of my cooking outside so to enjoy the view.” Lying to her as she nodded then placed the paperwork I needed to finish signing on the living room table. Scribbling down my signature on the lines so I could get this woman out of my hair. I’ve got things to start working on before tomorrow evening when she should be shopping for the catch of the day. 

“Please doing business with you mam and I hope we can do business again.” Practically shoving her out of the cottage then locking the door tightly. Might as well get some rest before I go grab some dinner.

The curtains were shut all over the living room of the cottage as I walked over to the record player. Usually some very light chants get me to fall asleep after a move such as this. Pressing the play button as the house was beginning to fill with beautiful music. 

IF it’s one thing I miss about the 13th century was the vast amount of chants that were sung all Sundays. Thought entering a church would practically be a death sentence for myself..walking by them in the early mornings after a night of hunting was always pleasurable. 

Entering into the bedroom to see a very large cat sitting in the middle of my bed. His tail softly moving on top of the covers, those very yellow green eyes were staring directly at me..as if he was planning on pouncing at any moment. Cats in this world are very interesting. The whole “cats have nine lives” is very real and to the point some cats have been with me for a very long time...all annoying with their meows and purs. 

“Look. As much as I love cats and all the so called happiness you bring to this world. I would prefer not to have you in my home. So c’mon.” Standing at the edge of the bed but he wasn’t moving an inch..stubborn feline! 

“Alright then you stubborn feline.” My hands reaching down to him as he began squinting at me. 

“Call me a feline again..I dare you ya bloody blood sucker!” Did...did he just talk…? That’s so damn impossible! I must be tired and a little bit of a headache most likely because I’m hungry! 

“Shocked to see a feline talking to you?” 

“HOLY SHIT!” Falling to the floor as I backed myself to the dresser! Stopping so that he wouldn’t pounce at me to scratch my eyes out!

“How the!?! What the!?” 

“Your really going to question why I’m talking? We live in a world with vampires, witches, and other mythical creatures. Is a talking cat really so bizarre that you threw yourself against the dresser?” He had a thick American accent which stung like a viper somehow! Still sitting on top of my bed but closer to the edge so we could have some sort of eye contact. 

“If I say yes...I get the feeling you’ll scratch my eyes out.” He sat in the middle of my legs. His ears pointed straight up as I tried to get this entire situation in my head. Like I said..I’ve had cats follow me around..but none of them have ever had some sort of conversation! 

“So you’re a talking cat...and you’re bothering me because…?” 

“I’ve heard of you before. You’re very famous for your tragic story. To some fellow immortals your story makes even Elvis Presley sad.” Elvis is alive? 

“Elvis is alive? I thought he died in 1970 or something…?” Rolling his eyes as he got down from the bed and even appeared bigger than what he was on the bed. His grey fur was very fluffy and his paws were massive for a cat. 

“You’re missing the point you idiot! Those of us who have been wandering this world since the beginning have seen heart aches and the destruction. But you..oh boy have you inspired the masses.” For an American cat his vocabulary is better than what I thought it would be. 

“So you’re bothering me because I inspired the masses?” 

“Nope. I’m here to help your dumbass because after watching this fail countless times..it’s now just utterly depressing.” This cat is making me feel absolutely stupid! A stupid cat is making me feel so god damn stupid! 

“You may call me Hyacinth! That’s what my last owner called me and I’ve liked the way it sounds. Now I’ve got to grab some dinner and your stomach growling is flooding my ears. So let’s go find some sort of grub!” Prancing off into the living room as I stayed there in shock. His head poking back into the room with annoyance written all over his face. 

Opening the door as he walked out to the front porch, looking around the coast before us. I’m feeling elk. DO you think I go running around eating whatever virgin blood is available? I got tired of human blood around the 14th century...mostly because that nasty plague.

We started walking along the coast in silence..trying to read each other’s thoughts, emotions, and not wanting to attack each other. He doesn’t plan on staying around does he? I need to get on with my life and this cat will get in the way with it! 

“So..Hyacinth. I know you said you’re here to help...but why and how do you plan on helping me?” We stopped walking as he entered the water a little then began searching for some sort of fish. 

“Like I said. Some of us have had enough of what happens. You think you’re alone in this world..but you’re not the only ones who’ve been completely thrown under the bus. We figured if we start with you..eventually we can all finally have some sort of peace in our lives. A spark has to..” He stopped to dive his head down then pulled out a tiny fish in his mouth. 

Their pools of blood crept into my nose with my eyes turning dark red. They’re so close..small animals have been doing the trick..but they’re so..juicy! A white cloudy trail appeared before me that would lead me to those Elk! I could distinctly hear their calm heart beats which was like hearing Beethovens symphony’s for the time! Loud! And so damn desirable! 

Squatting on the rock from a short distance to see their blood vessels flowing through each of their bodies. Which one was diseased, weak, pregnant, and the healthiest. My tongue grazing against my lips, my fangs beginning to grow from hunger. It's been so long since I’ve been fully filled..

It’s come down to the point where drinking human blood is just gross. Most humans blood these days are filled with so much damn sugar, diseases, drugs, and even to much damn coffee. But animal blood..no..wild animal blood that live on the richness of nature it was fuels me now. Mostly small animals..since I’ve been living in areas where Elk just don’t come to live in your backyard. 

Hyacinth wandered over to where I was drowning myself in my delectable meal. Once finished, he sat down next to me as I sat up. Licking the blood off my lips then beginning to clean myself up. 

“As she ever seen your true form?” Catching my breath as he looked up at me. 

“Yes..every time. She never cowards away..”

“I think I’m beginning to hatch a scheme for us. Oh yes..it’s all coming together.” 

[thewritewolf]

Nino’s Quest Chapter 10: Final Showdown

After they wake up from their sleepover, the party is ready to strike against their archnemesis - the Necromancer!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.  My ko-fi.

The sunlight filtered in sharply from the skylight above and Nino was suddenly very aware of why Marinette was not a morning person. If he had a room practically forcing him to be one, he’d be a night person out of spite too.

He blinked to clear his eyes. When he tried to sit up, he was suddenly aware of a weight on his chest. Looking down, a tangle of red hair was sprawled over his chest. Alya slept soundly, undisturbed by Nino’s attempts to rise. As much as she was an adorable angel while sleeping, he definitely needed to get up now.

It was hard to pull himself away from Alya without waking her up, and not just because of her tenacious grip on his shirt. These quiet moments of being close together were surprisingly rare and he wanted to cherish them as much as he could…

...but he really did need to get up.

He climbed down to the floor and a smile crept onto his face as he noticed Marinette and Adrien. They had, inevitably, been drawn together until their limbs were tangled and Adrien’s head was tucked under Marinette’s chin. After taking a quick second to feel pride in this shipping victory that they had been striving for, Nino tiptoed around them and descended down the stairs.

After narrowly avoiding a conversation with the early rising Dupain-Chengs (seriously, how is Marinette not a morning person at this point?), Nino found what he was looking for and slipped inside the bathroom.

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

A couple hours later and all four of them were varying degrees of awake. From bright and perky Adrien down to foot-dragging Marinette, they had all come downstairs to scavenge some breakfast. A breakfast which was turning out to be larger than what Nino was used to. Which probably wasn’t that surprising since ‘dinner’ yesterday consisted of a bunch of croissants.

Between the food and the company, it didn’t take long for even Marinette to become more animated. It brought a smile to Nino’s face to listen to them gush over the campaign so far. Even more so when that gushing turned to plotting - the best ways to sneak into the tower, how they’d face down the Necromancer. But there was one gap in their plans that they seemed to be skipping...

“So, dudes. How’re you going to get out?”

The others gave him a blank look. Marinette pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Either killing the Necromancer destroys the undead he’s created… or it doesn’t. No matter what, we’ve got to stop him.”

Alya nodded. “M’s right. If we try to get help, he might find whatever he’s looking for. For the sake of the kingdom, he’s got to go down here and now.”

“Alas,” Adrien sighed, adopting the voice of his bard. “The greatest story ever set to song… and there will be no one left to sing it.”

“Aw, don’t worry!” Marinette patted him on the back. “There’s a good chance we can make it out of here. With all of us together, there’s nothing we can’t do.”

“And on that note,” Nino said as he slid out his chair. “Ready to get started, dudes?”

After some cheering and agreement, they stormed the living room. Their things remained where they had left them the night before and all that they needed to do was settle into their spots. A few minutes of checking to make sure everything was where it ought to be, and they all turned toward Nino. Their faces were masks of determination as they began to put their plan into motion.

“Okay, step one - I’ll use my lyre to summon a visual illusion within sight of the zombies.” Adrien squinted at his spells list. “It will be in the opposite direction of us, so the plan is that they’ll be drawn away by it.” He looked at Nino with hopeful eyes. “...But does it work?”

Nino considered this for a moment. The zombies were ordered to be hyper aggressive, so them going after something that fleeting wouldn’t be out of the question. But he couldn’t remember if the undead were actually affected by illusions or not.

After giving it a fair amount of thought and doing some meaningless rolling - they were mindless, so they wouldn’t get a save anyway - he came to a decision.

“It works like a charm, bro. You pied piper-ed those dead dudes like a pro. That leaves the tower tots exposed.”

“Go go go!” Marinette yells at them. “We rush the door and close it behind us.”

Nino waggled his fingers with a smirk. “Not so fast! The door is barred. Or maybe just stuck. Either way, your stringy elven rogue muscles ain’t enough to bust it down, dude.”

“Well,” Alya said as she flexed her muscles. “Let’s see it try to stop me.” She rolled a strength check and, sure enough, passed with flying colors.

“Alright then. The wooden bar they were using to keep it closed is splinters now, but the door is intact. Mostly, at least.”

“Cool beans.” Adrien chimed in. “We slam it shut and find something to block it with. We don’t want the Necromancer getting any back up during this fight.”

“Yeah, about that…” Nino checked his notes. “There are a couple zombies in this room.”

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” Alya said, already rolling. “Marinette and I will hold them off while you get it shut.”

“Um…” Adrien skimmed over his spell list. “Maybe I should have gotten the hold portal scroll back in town… Is there anything in the room I can use?”

“There’s a big ol’ boulder, but it is too big for you to push.”

“Is it too big for me and you?”

Nino grinned. “Not a chance. While the ladies put down the walking dead, we roll the rock in front of the door. It’ll take some beating down to move it now.”

“Awesome. Let’s hurry and get up there!”

The dash up the tower had perils all its own - rickety stairwell, the odd zombie guardsmen, a few traps - but none of them were enough to slow them down. It was inspiring to watch. The party had come such a long way. Nino almost felt bad about what happened next. Almost.

“Okay, dudes. It takes some ramming by Alya, but you bash down the door at the top of the tower. The moment you do, a wave of fire washes over you. Everybody make a reflex save.”

Naturally, Marinette passed. But she was the only lucky one out of the group. To Nino’s surprise, no one went down… but it was close.

Alya sucked in a breath as she adjusted her hit points, “Ooooh that hurts. Hopefully you’ve got some magic hands ready, cappy.”

“Ow ow ow ow ow,” Adrien muttered as he made a note on his character sheet. “Guess who has two thumbs and that same amount of health.” He pointed two thumbs at himself, a pained expression on his face. “This guy!”

Marinette rolled her eyes at his joke, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. “I guess I’ll be taking the lead on this one.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “So what’s our mortal enemy look like?”

“Super pale, like he hasn’t seen the sun in… I dunno. Months. Years, even. Big old gnarly staff with an antlered skull on it. Some rusty looking amulet around his neck you can’t really see that well. Ragged black robes dirty with dust and cobwebs. That sort of thing. Purple lightning crackles around his fingers as he sneers at you.” Nino cleared his throat and dropped a few octaves to get the voice right. “‘Pitiful. You barely cling to the falsehood of life. It would almost be a waste of time to raise your corpses, but… I have need of extra hands. You will do.’”

A couple rounds later and things had only gotten worse. Nino’s cleric was doing his best, but it was hard to keep up with the dark wizard’s onslaught. It was plain luck that they were all still standing, but that wasn’t going to last for a whole lot longer.

In short, they needed something miraculous to happen if they were going to win this fight.

Their comeback started, as it often did, with a crazy move by Adrien.

“He’s still hovering, right?” Adrien glanced up at Nino as he nodded. “Alright, I’m going to throw my rapier at him.”

“Are you sure? That’ll leave you without a weapon.”

“It isn’t doing me much good anyway. Might as well try to do some damage.”

“Alright. Roll it.”

Putting as much flair into the roll as possible, Adrien tossed the die across the board. It came to a halt next to Nino… as a natural one. Nino winced.

“Sorry, bro. The sword sails right past his head and lodges itself in the ceiling. Some dust and a couple pebbles land on his robes, adding to his dirtiness.”

Marinette’s eyes lit up. “That’s it!” The rest of the party sent her confused looks. “We’ll bring the ceiling down on top of him!”

“M, what are you talking about?” Alya eyed her friend with concern, but not a little hope. She’d gained a reputation for crazy plans that worked after all.

“If the rapier can get stuck, that means the stone is loose, which is backed up by the pebbles and dust falling. The whole city is on the verge of collapse - what’s one more roof?” Marinette turned to Nino. “I roll an engineering check.” Naturally, it was a high roll. “Can I see a structural weak point?”

Nino puffed out his cheeks and let out a deep breath as he thought. “Uh… yeah, sure. There’s a rotting wooden support beam. Take that out, and it should be enough to bring down the ceiling.”

Marinette considered this, her fingers steepled in front of her. Eventually she asked, “What sort of rot?”

“Huh?”

“On the wood. Like, wet rot or dry rot?”

“Well… There isn’t a lot of water in the air so I guess dry rot...?”

“Is it still my turn?” At Nino’s nod, Marinette smiled mirthlessly. “I pull out my vial of alchemist’s fire and toss it at the support beam.”

Nino blinked, stunned. “Um… roll it?”

But she was already doing it.

The die rolled across the table, just like Adrien’s had.

She was further away and didn’t put nearly as much flair in, so it stopped in front of Adrien…

...on a natural twenty.

The table erupted into cheers. Adrien pressed a big kiss against Marinette’s cheek, Alya shook her arm, and Nino applauded from across the table. While they were still tittering with excitement, he began describing what happened.

“The glass of the vial shatters against the old, crumbling wood. The air immediately bursts into flame and hungrily devours the whole dang beam. While the Necromancer blinks stupidly at the sudden noise and light, the ceiling rumbles. Before he can respond, it collapses ontop of him, crushing him instantly. His amulet rolls out and hits your boot, Marinette.”

“I’ll pick it up. Maybe it’ll make a good trophy.”

“My cleric dude pipes up, ‘By the Sun! That’s the missing relic of my temple!’”

“Oh no.”

“‘But… it has been cursed. By a totally awful power.’”

Adrien was shaking his die in his hand. “I’m going to make a bardic knowledge check to see what I can remember about any unholy symbols or stuff like that.”

Deciding that he’d rolled high enough, Nino said, “It’s not good, bro. The mark is the personal symbol of a big man from down below. This is some serious stuff.”

Once again, the three of them looked at each other. Then Marinette’s eyes widened. “Wait! I look out the window - are the undead still walking around?”

Nino shook his head. “Nah, dude. They’ve crumbled back into corpses - the non-animated kind. You guys should be smooth sailing from here.”

“Kids!” Sabine called them from a few rooms over. “Lunch time!”

The game was left where it was and the four of them followed the scent of freshly cooked lunch to the kitchen. As they chatted away about their most recent victory and where they would go from here, Nino listened in and smiled.

He’d probably have to leave Uncle Hassan’s campaign to focus on running this one. But as he watched his friends’ faces lit up as they reenacted parts of the battle, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. There were plenty more adventures for these four to come, more stories to tell, and Nino wanted to be the one to tell them.

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of September 18th, 2019

Best of this Week: House of X #5 - Jonathan Hickman, Pepe Larraz, Marte Gracia and Clayton Cowles

The X-Men have conquered their greatest enemy: Death.

After the events of the last issue, it was a wonder just how Hickman would write the X-Men out of the predicament that has stopped them so many times before. In the standard Hickman way, he made retcons that enhanced the usefulness of lesser characters and provided a way out that not only makes sense, but can be used for just about anything in regards to all of our favorite dead mutants.

Goldballs had one of the dumbest powers for the longest time; the ability to propel golden balls from his chest, but in this book we learn that these balls were actually non-viable eggs that, with the help of Proteus, could be made usable. After they’re injected with mutant DNA and given life by Elixir, Tempus ages the eggs to maturity and thanks to Hope’s powers, all of them operate at peak efficiency. This allows the mutants to effectively resurrect their dead friends as husks until Xavier implants mind engrams into the bodies with their past memories.

In House of X #1, one of the first things we see is Charles Xavier meeting the reborn forms of Scott Summers and Jean Grey as full adults after they emerge from egg sacs of some kind. Initially, I thought that this was just some sort of strange symbolic rebirth thing and while it still is, it has become far more literal and intriguing because of five mutants - Goldballs, Elixir, Hope Summers, Proteus and Tempus.

Everything about this scene was immaculate and well done to a point where I almost want to cry. What coloring there was felt low and hushed, almost as if we were seeing something miraculous, the gift of light. Camera angles were mostly downwards, to capture the harmony of the group before they began their work. They stood silent and acted on instinct, indicating they'd done this before, showing us that they were absolutely sure of their process. 

Xavier leaning down, cradling his children and asking them to not die again as it kills a part of him every time that they do is heart wrenching, but joyous when he gives them their memories back. There's no hesitation, only love, only care. 

The gravity of the event as it happens and seeing someone like Goldballs become one of the most integral mutants in the revival of the mutant race brought me to an unknown level of joy. There was so much weight to their actions with the excellent narration by Magneto as to what exactly they were doing while talking to Polaris, making the point that when they are apart, they are still strong mutants, but together they are even more powerful than previously imagined. 

I’m almost certain they used the exact same pages from House of X #1 as we watch the resurrection of the dead team, but this time we have a whole new perspective of how we got there. In an absolutely beautiful celebration of life, we see the mutants of Krakoa praise the Five for bringing their mutant family back to life and a confirmation of those mutants by Storm. Under the purple leaves of a tree of Krakoa with a bit of sunlight shining through. Purple usually symbolizes nobility, passion and authenticity and with the use of dynamic angles and heroic posing, we can be absolutely sure that these are the same mutants.

Angel, Husk, Mystique, Monet, Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Cyclops and Jean Grey all died to ensure that the Mother Mold didn’t come online and destroy the mutant race. In two nine panel grids, Storm greets hew newly reborn friends, questioning how she knows that it’s truly them. After they give their answers from the somber to the cocky to the… Monet, Storm asks what they are and the crowd answers with one word: Mutant. 

This message also acts as a bit of foreshadowing for the end of the book and as the theme for this issue as a whole; the idea of togetherness, something that the human race has denied mutants for all of their existence. 

The level of solidarity among the mutants is inspiring, the love and pride they have in themselves in infections and makes me want to see them do nothing but succeed. However, I do have something of a concern with the level of reverence they seem to be getting. As they walk naked down the stairs to interact with their fellow mutants, the other mutants reach their hands out at them as the sun shines brightly behind them. They seem as saviors, messiahs, people standing above their fellows and that’s a potentially dangerous path for them to go down, especially since Krakoa is performing so well and don’t need egos to ruin it.

On top of their resurrections, Xavier and Emma Frost are also trying to get the world's governments to accept Krakoa's pharmaceuticals and accept the Mutant Utopia as an independent nation. With a few notable exceptions from Russia, Latveria and Wakanda (among a few other countries that also would not accept Mutants or their cure alls) most of the world is very into the prospect of life giving drugs in exchange for giving mutants diplomatic immunity and recognition.

In many ways, this is the progress that they have always strived for. Some people aren't reticent to their acts of kindness out of ideological differences, but others see the benefit of siding with the new Nation as long as they can see the benefits. They may be alliances of necessity or fear, but the point still stands that their autonomy is being recognized. They're not being actively hunted, at least since Orchis was stopped from activating the Mother Mold and with their population in the cusp of becoming what it was in the past, they are flourishing and don't NEED human support, but they find it better that they receive it.

With the world coming together for mutants, there's only one more group left to truly unite the houses: The Villains. In my opinion, most of House of X has been leading up to this, the day when even mutant villains will come in full support of Xavier's new mission to save the race and there are some nasty ones here: Mister Sinister, Lady Mastermind, Mesmero, Selene, Sebastian Shaw, Emplate, Exodus, Gorgon, Black Tom Cassidy and Azazel.

But these villains pale in comparison to the final arrival in Apocalypse. In more than one way, Apocalypse's dream has finally come to fruition as well. Mutants have risen above and finally become the dominant species that he always believed they could be. They have evolved past their petty and weak natures and embraced their strength in both numbers and power. With Krakoa welcoming him with some lovely birds, Apocalypse speaks on behalf of all of the evil mutants when he says that they will obey the laws of Krakoa as they are written and cements this new alliance with a handshake with Charles Xavier.

This blew my mind. Apocalypse's whole deal was that he would absolutely destroy the weakness in the mutant gene pool and was only able to do so with Charles Xavier dead in the Age of Apocalypse timeline. He tore the world asunder, but as we learned from one of Moira MacTaggert's past lives, even this would not have lasted. If Moira's been in contact with Apocalypse, then he too knows that following Xavier right now is the only true path to mutant evolution and supremacy.

I have never been so elated, surprised and anticipating of a comic in so long. 

Pepe Larraz and Marte Gracia are a match made in heaven and this book has a cinematic quality through and through. Larraz allows the characters to appear overjoyed, happy and proud with beautiful facial expressions. With faraway shots and ever changing angles in the panels, there's such a grandeur in the story being told. The sun is always shining in this particular issue, much like it was in House of X #1, signaling a brand new day and bright future for mutantkind.

Gracia's colors are bright and vibrant, emanating with a hopeful glow. Their lighting effects are on JJ Abrams levels of shiny and somehow The Five characters stand out apart from the clothes that they used to wear. Tempus' blue pops out perfectly against Goldballs gold and black. The purple of the tree leaves in the Confirmation is absolutely beautiful and awe-inspiring and the darkness during Apocalypse's arrival set against the shining God rays is the perfect contrast.

I have never been more proud to be a fan of the X-Men. Knowing their history of death and rebirth, it's relieving to see that they now have the means to finally conquer their mortal enemy. There's so many that can be brought back to life (provided their deaths haven't already been retconned). John Proudstar, the original Thunderbird, Jamie Madrox, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Sean Cassidy, Blindfold and many others that either died so long ago or died at the hands of Matthew Rosenberg's Uncanny X-Men.

House of X has gone above and beyond and rejuvenated a portion of the Marvel Universe that has been a chaotic mess for the better part of almost 20 years by this point. There's finally unity amongst all of the mutants in the Universe, from 90s villains to even recent ones from Brian Michael Bendis' run. 

Jonathan Hickman is proving that almost anything he touches turns to gold as he's crafted an amazing tale in only nine issues, counting Powers of X as well. I find myself, for the first time in a long time, not just going through the motions. I feel as though I'm witnessing a revolution occurring, an actual brand new era for some of my favorite super people. 

The series is set to conclude in about three weeks for X-Men #1 and I am already so very excited. Highest of recommends.

What are we? Mutants.

[foxghost]

鎮魂 Guardian [Zhen Hun] extra 3 full translation

No real spoilers in this one, just fluff and crack. [TN: the other extras are here, you may want to check out #4 for notes on names.] Original Chinese character count: 4363 English Translation + notes word count: 4042

===

Later, the Special Investigation Department moves away from 4 Bright Road to 9 University Road, just one pedestrian crossing away from Dragon City University.

Lin Jing lingers at their old address just before the move, reluctant to leave and goes around and around the empty office with his recently upgraded equipment — a long barrel SLR camera — and photographs every last detail; not even the cobwebs escapes his scrutiny. When he’s done, Lin Jing picks out the few he’s satisfied with and sends them to a magazine publisher, hoping to make a name for himself in the “Former Haunts” series.

Thus leading to the editor-in-chief of the magazine suffering a great blow to his delicate psyche.

The editor-in-chief ends up in the hospital over the incident, and reporting what they perceived as a 'malignant, intentional manufacturing of supernatural photographs for the purpose of scaring people" to the police. As familial shame cannot be spread abroad, Zhao-chu can only show his face and quietly settle things behind the scenes. When he comes back, he beats the crap out of that idiot fake monk in the path of his innocent gaze.

Eat, sleep, beat Lin Jing; the crew at 9 University Road finally fall back into their ordinary, everyday routine.

The accommodation at their new office is decadent to the extreme, with a sunny attic upstairs and a double cellar below. The second cellar houses their book collection, while the first cellar is a shrine-like space with a mahjong table surrounded by a circle of memorial tablets. During the day it provides a resting place for their ghost employees, and any individual suffering from insomnia can get up and play a round of mahjong.

… And so, during the day, one can often hear the sound of shuffling mahjong tiles from the mysteriously locked first cellar.

On the top floor, the attic is warm and bright with sunshine, painted with a thick layer of soundproofing paint; those who are tired can take a noon nap, and opening the windows affords one the view of the whole courtyard — unfortunately there is no beautiful scenery to be had.

Since members of the S.I.D. could not come to an agreement regarding a plan for the garden, there’s no unified theme. After they divided up the space, the courtyard has become a weird mixture of styles containing a little bit of everything.

Zhao Yunlan claims the entire rear courtyard for himself. With an oddly cultivated aesthetic that has nothing at all to do with the arts that he’s ignored his whole life through, he vetoes Zhu Hong’s favoured Japanese roses, vetoes Chu Shuzhi’s suggestion of vines, vetoes Lin Jing’s request of a Bodhi tree … ultimately planting an entire rear courtyard worth of vegetables.

There’s mini cole, cherry tomatoes, pumpkin seedlings, pea sprouts, Chinese cedar sprouts … a veritable neighbourhood of assorted vegetables growing side by side. In the middle of it all stands a coquettish eggplant surrounded by all the other plants the way stars surround the moon.

[TN: 風騷茄子 / Coquettish Eggplant is a dish…this ia a pun.]

Zhao Yunlan hints that come winter he’ll even fill the entire rear courtyard with bok choi.

From then onwards, neither mortal nor ghost has played in the rear courtyard that has become a vegetable garden.

By the time Shen Wei finishes class, the sun has already begun inclining towards the west. It’s still warm outside, and the short stroll from school even counting the time it takes to wait for the light to change is only five, six minute at most.

The entire staff of the S.I.D. each holds a copy of Teacher Shen’s class schedule. They wait eagerly for his arrival daily as one watches for the stars and the moon. There was once a time that the soldiers skipping out on work along with the leader was routine, because when the ceiling beams are crooked the pillars came along; since their leader Zhao Yunlan stopped messing around and started calmly spending all his days in the office like a hermit though, those days are long gone.

In this respect, everyone feels a little depressed, even in light of their new surroundings.

Yet when Teacher Shen arrives he can always swiftly take the leader away. And if the leader is gone, naturally it implies that everyone else can leave work early as well.

As he steps through the door, Shen Wei is greeted by countless “good day Teacher Shen” and “good work Teacher Shen” and many more besides along with such fervent looks from everyone that it’s borderline like the staff are held in enemy territory awaiting a liberating army. Shen Wei finds it hard to adapt to this at first, but as time goes by he’s no longer fazed by all the attention.

Guo Changcheng is zoning out, Zhu Hong is doing some online stopping, Chu Shuzhi is watching the candlestick graph, Lin Jing is tinkering with a new model of wiretapping device: a fish scale-like thing the size of a girl’s fingernail that turns invisible and records in secret once it sticks to anything.

Black cat Daqing nests on the staircase handrail, waving his tail at Shen Wei. “He’s in the attic.”

Shen Wei makes an approving hum, nods as he says “Thank you,” but when he’s just about to pass by, he lifts a brow slightly and glances at Daqing. “Be careful, don’t fall off now.”

… The handrail only looks half as big as Daqing’s stomach. The way he’s lying prone on top of it looks extremely weird.

Daqing stares blankly for a full second, then with a wail he turns into an angry furball. “I’m practicing—Yo—ga! What’s wrong with practicing yoga? You got a problem with that?”

Keeping a smile on his face, Shen Wei reaches out to stroke his head, and goes upstairs.

Daqing furiously drapes himself back down on the handrail. Lin Jing asks, teasing, “Aiyoh, little princeling Daqing, which yoga pose are you practicing?”

Daqing says after a pause, “Cat pose.”

Those who follow the Way never lies, so goes the doctrine. Lin Jing appropriately shows his evaluation with a peal of laughter.

… As a result he gained two new bloody scratches on his face. The wiretap in his hand goes flying towards destination unknown, turning invisible.

Lao-Li, who’s always appearing without a sound and vanishing without a trace, appears now to quietly supply cotton swabs and bandages as if he’s the hapless master responsible for the aftermath of his cat’s crimes. Yet the cat has no appreciation for his love at all, and doesn’t bother with even a snort as he jumps off the railing into a cat stretch and leaving the scene.

There are times when such a thing as love is like a fragile pane of glass. It doesn’t matter what kind of love it is: nothing can glue it back together after it shatters, even if the ones involved no longer cared, even if they have already chosen to forgive.

That’s why a person should be faithful to oneself unto death. Whether choosing to be so selfish as to hurt countless without regrets, or to cherish another’s affection from the beginning, even at the risk of looking like a fool.

Shen Wei pushes open the door to the top floor lightly. There’s a sofa bed in the attic situated for a full day of sunlight, and Zhao Yunlan naps there with a blanket thrown across his waist, fingers still trapped between the pages of a book in his hands.

Shen Wei approaches quietly, stooping to kiss him lightly on the lips. Zhao Yunlan doesn’t bother opening his eyes, he hums lazily with sleep and says, “You’re done with class?”

Shen Wei answers with an agreeing noise, reaching out to prop up Zhao Yunlan by his back so he can sit down. “Wake up a little. It’s not early anymore, and if you fall asleep again you won’t be able to sleep later.”

Zhao Yunlan takes advantage of the shift in position to lie down on Shen Wei’s thighs. Yawning, he says blearily, “I didn’t actually want to sleep.”

With half-lidded eyes he waves the “Vegetable Planting Techniques” in his hands and grumbles, “I’m telling you, this book has to be cursed. I can’t ever get to the first chapter. Just the forward is enough to knock someone out. I only made it to the 8th page now and I’m still stuck in the introduction.”

Shen Wei picks it up and flips through its pages. It’s a textbook from the agricultural university, and not a single centimetre of white space is wasted — even the pictures are black and white and so serious it has no entertainment value whatsoever. Shen Wei puts it aside and says without thinking, “Why do you bother reading it? If luck’s on their side, whichever seed you sow may even chance into a refined essence and become Yao. There is no chance that any of them wouldn’t grow.”

Zhao Yunlan says, “No, only science and technology is the primary productive force.”

[TN. he’s quoting fundamental principle of Marxism here so that’s why SW makes fun of him.]

Shen Wei says after a pause, “Why don’t you go back to study science and technology then.”

Zhao Yunlan rolls his eyes, and harbouring ulterior motives, says, “The primary productive force and I are jinxed. It reduces me to sleep in a single glance.”

[TN. 犯克 roughly means “it disagrees with my birth hour.” So it does mean jinxed, but with him ONLY.]

Shen Wei looks down, discovering that whatever sleepiness in Zhao Yunlan’s pitch black eyes have already evaporated, and they stare up at him with wordless amusement.

Zhao Yunlan reaches around so he’s holding Shen Wei by the waist. “If I can’t keep reading, then I’ll forget my meals, my mood will plunge, and if it goes on any longer I’ll fall into a depression!”

Shen Wei just looks at him without saying a word.

One lie after another comes out of Zhao Yunlan’s mouth. “Listen, the suicide rate is really high in Northern Europe because the cold climate leads to depression. Kunlun mountain is covered in ice and snow that never melts — it doesn’t even have heat, so my bones must carry the genes for depression.”

Shen Wei is silent for a time before saying, “You must forgive my inability to see this.”

Zhao Yunlan says, “You must not love me anymore! You … man of easy virtue!”

[TN. ZYL says SW has a “nature as ever changing as running water and alights on all like flower petals,” and it’s usually a phrase meaning ‘fickle woman.’]

Shen Wei pushes at his temple as if to hold back a headache. “Stop acting so spoiled. What would you like?”

Zhao Yunlan laughs a mischievous laugh, revealing a row of neat white teeth.

“Fine. I’ll read it to you when we get home,” Shen Wei says, helplessly gentle, before uncomfortably averting his gaze. “But if you’re going to listen, then be good and listen. If you get drowsy listening then sleep. You’re not allowed to mess around.”

His ears are taking on a flush, and he looks like a half-willing young bride that’s just been picked on by an evil tyrant taking liberties, only half-willing because he’s left without a choice.

Zhao Yunlan grabs hold of Shen Wei’s collar indignantly and pulls him closer. “Can I trouble you not to be such a pure white lotus okay baby? From the fucking moment we met 'til now have I ever successfully taken a single dime of advantage of you … fine I’ll admit I’ve had more criminal attempts, but I haven’t any criminal reality!”

Shen Wei hastens to placate him. “Okay okay okay, get up. Let’s go home.”

“I can’t.” Zhao Yunlan turns his face to the side, expressionless. “The muscles in my lower back are strained.”

Shen Wei says softly, bashful, “Then should I carry you?”

Zhao Yunlan takes a look at him in silence, and stands up in silence. He finds that his back doesn’t hurt at all anymore — but he does feel a pang in his stomach.

As soon as they step through the front door, the rest of the staff scatter like birds and beasts. Zhu Hong’s the first to slip out, with Lin Jing closely following. Chu Shuzhi pours himself a cup of cheap tea, holding fast until the stock market closes before leisurely putting things away. As he’s about to go he raises his head to discover that Guo Changcheng still hasn’t left yet.

[TN. 茶水 / cha shui / lit. tea water / cheap tea is the kind of tea you get in diners, usually ceylon, comes in a plastic cup, made with cheaper leaves and brewed bulk in a metal dispenser.]

The room is empty save for them. Guo Changcheng sitting there staring into space without a word looks like a painted stage set, dazed to distraction. Chu Shuzhi asks casually, “Why haven’t you left yet?”

As if shaken from a dream, Guo Changcheng trembles violently and bumps the water-dwelling plant, spilling it all over his desk.

Chu Shuzhi subconsciously reaches for his own face; suspecting that maybe he’s been slack in the cultivation of his arts and his livor-mortis is showing, somehow managing to scare this unfortunate child until he’s beside himself.

Guo Changcheng stammers, “I um I’m leaving,” and cleans up in a flurry of activity.

Chu Shuzhi can read body language well enough, so he asks, “Are you planning to go bomb a bunker? Why do you look like you’re going to war?”

If Guo Changcheng has a pair of dog ears, he guesses now they would be drooping.

Twenty minutes later, the two emerge from 9 University Road with Chu Shuzhi furrowing his brow and coming to a conclusion. “That is to say, your second uncle wants you to go to a xiangqin.”

[TN. 相親 / Xiangqin. A marriage interview arranged by a matchmaker. A direct equivalent is the Japanese o-miai. The characters mean mutual-intimacy.]

A spray of sparks explodes out of Guo Changcheng’s pocket.

Chu Shuzhi quickly sidesteps. “Watch it. What’s with the groundless worry? Is this girl you’re meeting a tigress?”

To avoid setting his pants on fire, Guo Changcheng hurriedly takes the stun baton out of his pocket, but that only attracts the attention of passersby instead; they don’t even manage to make it to the parking lot before the traffic cop at the crosswalk yells at them, “What’s going on? You can’t set off fireworks within city limits! Where’s your sense of civic responsibility?”

Chu Shuzhi silently covers his face and pretends to look up at the sky.

The lich king is reclusive and detached; aside from the occasional garrulous words he exchanges with acquaintances, his entire person gives off an aura of do not approach， so he’s often lonely in the cold emptiness of his life. Outside of cultivating his essence, he has little to do in the long hours outside of work, leaving his well-hidden desire to gossip eternally unsatisfied. He feels a sudden curiosity of how this human custom of xiangqin is conducted, and with a tone like he’s volunteering to join a war, he says, “Ok, stop spraying fireworks. You’ll get a fine. Why don’t we do this — I’ll sit by you pretending to be just another customer the whole time for your xiangqin, alright?”

[TN. 屍王 / lit. corpse king. I suppose it could also read “necromancer” but he’s a corpse himself, so closer to a lich.]

Guo Changcheng gives him a tortured look, and from Chu Shuzhi’s solemn face he can just glean a hint of the curiosity of a gossiping fishwife.

They arrive more than thirty minutes earlier than the appointed time, and it’s only after Chu Shuzhi flip through an entire old magazine to pass the time before the girl arrives.

Chu Shuzhi looks on as Guo Changcheng freezes solidly into a human stick, and thinks with some amazement that he hasn’t seen a mortal with such great potential to become a jianshi for many years.

[TN. 人棍 / human stick is actually a brutal ancient torture that’s best not described here. CSZ uses some harsh language in his head…

殭屍 / Jiangshi / what Chu Shuzhi is, is a culturally unique mythological creature that originated from the way undertakers were said to have ordered corpses to jump as they led the dead back to their hometowns for burial. Depending on the telling, they eat flesh, drink blood, sleep in coffins, fear the sun, and only in some stories do they have minds of their own.]

Chu Shuzhi moves his gaze downwards, finding Guo Changcheng’s pant cuffs shaking uncontrollably, his entire body resembling a quail that found itself falling heavily on its ass on broken glass. He congratulates himself for confiscating Guo Changcheng’s little stun baton beforehand, otherwise he’s sure the young lady’s perfectly ironed straight fringe would have been fried immediately into natural curls.

“Oh, come on. Grow up,” Chu Zhushi thinks, feeling rather disappointed on his behalf.

Fortunately, the young lady has a good temperament, and doesn’t go on Weibo on the spot to start a post titled, “Ran into someone outrageous at the xiangqin” as a souvenir. Instead she confidently attempts to keep the conversation going by cycling through a list of seemingly endless topics. From the start Guo Changcheng acts exactly like a criminal at a trial, whatever question thrown his way he must tremble thrice, all the while sending a continuous distress signal in Chu Shuzhi’s direction. Unfortunately Chu Shuzhi feigns interest in the menu and is utterly unreceptive.

Ten minutes of trembling later, the lady finally can’t help asking, “You … are you a little nervous?”

Guo Changcheng, red all over, nods at her.

The lady smiles a little. “It’s not important. We’re only having a casual chat.”

Guo Changcheng, still red all over, nods again, and carefully gives her a single glance before looking extremely ill at ease, turning his gaze away.

Normally when coming across someone that can’t even speak clearly, the other side would flip desk and leave, but this young lady who’s come to this xiangqin seem to have an odd weakness. Facing someone like Guo Changcheng, a sense of protectiveness inexplicably grows in her heart.

“I think you’re just like Raj from the Big Bang Theory,” she says happily. “Especially cute — my aunt says you’re a police officer. Really?”

Guo Changcheng makes a sound of agreement that comes off like a mosquito’s hum.

The lady says, “Really! I can’t tell at all. Then what do you do normally when you meet a bad person?”

Guo Changcheng spends a moment recalling, then truthfully illustrates just how he catches ‘bad people.’ He makes a clawing gesture, pretending to pick up his ‘secret weapon’ and says, “Just like this, and I tell, tell it, ‘you you you you you can’t come over here,’ and then I catch them.”

The lady stares at him blankly a second, and realising that it’s possibly a joke, she laughs, swaying back in forth in her mirth. “You’re just too cute!”

With naive eyes Guo Changcheng stares at her, utterly clueless.

Chu Shuzhi watches with his cheek in his hand and all the coolness of a bystander. When he thinks back on what they actually get up to during work, he does manage to find a hint of what one may call ‘adorkable.’ As he takes another look at the still happy girl and the utterly out-of-form Guo Changcheng, he glances at his watch. It’s starting to feel rather dull sitting here.

But once these two start chatting they seem to go on and on; Chu Shuzhi reins in his impatience, takes out his phone and plays games for ages until his vision’s starting to blur and he can’t take anymore. He waves at the waiter, “Ready to order.”

The waiter diligently comes over only to hear Chu Shuzhi say in a quiet and eerie voice, “One order of Kung Pao chicken, make sure the meat is only three parts done and still bloody.”

The waiter is silent.

Guo Changcheng overhears this from across the room and immediate turn around to glance at Chu Shuzhi, recognizes the gloomy corpse-like scowl on the lich (corpse) king and finally realises that he’s gotten carried away.

But while he racks his brains trying to wrap up the conversation, the other side suddenly goes from easy to stern and says to him, “Oh, right, actually I still want to say that …”

She pauses then, as if what she wants to say may be too embarrassing to mention.

Guo Changcheng asks, “What is it?”

The lady stares down at her lap and seems to think for a moment before saying, “This is our first meeting, so it’s probably not appropriate for me to be saying this, but I really do like you quite a bit …”

Guo changcheng sits as straight and stiff as a red Songhum tree — even his eyes seem to turn vertical.

She continues to say, “So there is something I want to say before anything else. I didn’t really want to come here today at first because my aunt said you were a criminal police officer. I don’t think living with a cop is especially stable, really. Everyday I’d have to be on edge all the time thinking about how you are, and as time goes on,” she trails off then, sighing. “Is this line of work something you must do?”

Guo Changcheng stares blankly for a second, and before he’s able to answer, a hand grabs onto his shoulder without any warning, hauling him right up from his seat.

Guo Changcheng says, “Chu-ge?”

It’s too sudden for the lady at her xiangqing to react, and her gaze at Chu Shuzhi shows no reaction.

Chu Shuzhi gives her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, before his attention shifts down towards Guo Changcheng, and he says with a tone that’s meant to cause confusion, “A Xiangqing behind my back? Why, you certainly have such gall!”

Guo Changcheng is shocked to silence.

What, what is this situation?

The lady’s eyes widen, captivated, completely in awe of the lich king’s aura and this utterly contrived plot. Chu Shuzhi reaches into Guo Changcheng’s pocket, digs out a few Renminbi bills and leaves them beneath a cup. Without another word of explanation, he stuffs Guo Changcheng beneath one arm and carries him out.

[TN. Renminbi, lit. The People’s money, the cash of the PRC.]

Guo Changcheng BSOD on scene and remains unresponsive until Chu Shuzhi stuffs him into the car. Chu Shuzhi stretches out his legs, and like an arrogant master of old, commands, “Start the car. Drop me off first.”

Guo Changcheng telegraphs ten thousand emotions tied up in knots in a single glance.

Chu Shuzhi says, “What are you glaring for, I’m doing this for her sake. To think she would dream up an idea like that, go digging at Kunlun-jun’s foundations. Really…”

[TN. 挖牆腳 - lit. dig at the foot of a wall. Applicable both in the case of someone seducing your husband or a competitor trying to lure away an employee.]

His speech halts, and a phrase comes to him unbidden like good fortune. He blurts out, "Stupid humans.

…Stupid human Guo Changcheng doesn’t say anything, and with his face still bright red, he silently starts the car.

On his satchel, a little round disc that resembles a scale invisibly transmits.

The next day, a rumour seem to spring up from everywhere at once: Chu-ge and Xiao-Guo’s gone steady, 9 University Rd is a nest for gays.

[TN. 搞大象 lit. setup-big-elephant. It came from 搞對象 lit. setup a partner. It’s just slang to replace the middle character with 大 / big, or 小 / small to indicate whether the partner is serious or casual.]

And what’s become of the person unfortunate enough to hear something he should not have, the Lin Jing who spread the rumours?

Oh, may the lord Buddha preserve us, he’s gained so many bumps on his head it’s wrapped in enough bandages to resemble a turban.

===

Much thanks to @lifeishwaiting for the final once over.

I’ve been sitting on this draft forever trying to get around the couple of derogatory terms the author used, and I did change them above, so I’ll note them here:

Raj from BBT was referred to as “The little Indian from BBT”

The last line used 印度阿三 and here’s the Baidu entry. I ended up using “turban” instead because it’s what she really meant as a description, and it’s a word used in Chinese history — think “Yellow Turban Rebellion” before the Three Kingdoms period.

[frankiirperwcw-blog]

UNTOLD STORIES FROM THE FAE COURTS.

they are coming from the woods

Summer.

The summer court is loud and seems slow, but the lazy progress of the sun through the sky betrays a vitality within the fae of the warmer months. The gauzy air over the realm of summer is thick with magic. Sunlight is daubed onto forest floors through gaps in the verdant leaves, and the warm evenings host lively parties, barefooted and frenzied dancers kicking dandelion seeds to the wind. Make no mistake, the fae realm will kill you no matter what season, and the land of the summer court is aggressively fertile. Nothing will stop it's growth, and if needs be it will find root inside you, a seed planted by the haze of a warm evening and peace and contentment that soaks so deeply through your skin that eventually flowers will grow from your mouth and eyes.

I don't know that fae experience love the same way as humans, but I was once involved with a courtier from this realm. Her lips were always violently red, eyes round and shining like the swelling fruit in the thickets, and her passions as unrelenting as waves on the sand. We shared the bounties of the summer court, which are seemingly endless, with feasts laid out endlessly across long blankets on the forest floor or at high tables within the carefully kept gardens of the court. Precisely grown roses wound their way around marble and soft fountains paint the space with a frenetic song. And through the balmy nights competition turned warmth to heat and blood spilled across those perfect marble floors.

In the end my love was so passionate that my relative quiet bored her, and we fell out of step. I cared more to observe the ways of the summer courtiers, to watch the viciousness so often disguised by bright sunshine. The perfect sweeping towers of the castles and the apparent madness are all in step with someone's devising- although the architect changes constantly, the play that unfolds on the stage is always carefully calculated, no matter how chaotic it seems. Everything is planned.

Autumn.

This season is predictably mediated by decay. The mournful forests have an endless fall of leaves of ochre, copper, rust and other, stranger colours. As night falls and a cool tang enters the air, maroon and shimmering gold leaves drift through the air and lucent mushrooms cast a ghostly light onto burnt brown trunks. The fae of the autumn court are secretive and quiet, but there is plenty of activity happening, albeit out of sight, like earthworms transforming rot to soil underfoot. The goblin market supplies a wealth of enchantments and fae food to those passing through, and fruit wines and sweet cakes are prepared, the finest as gifts for the courtiers or to woo unsuspecting mortals. This court is perhaps of a more sinister reputation than the others, the natural penchant for the death of the year tending to make them unnerving, but the season is not without warmth, if it can be found.

Precise homes made from bones are created for fireflies and field-mice. Sticks are woven into small enchantments and spells. Bonfires create embers that never cool, and ash that will revive cold, sad mortal hearts. Some of the finest bakeries in the four courts are found in autumn, creating exquisite cakes and pies that rival even elven ovens. A baker there once took a liking to me, and I to her, and she frequently made me gifts of her wares- carefully spiced wrapped apple pastries, thick, cloying marzipan filled sweet buns, cakes adorned with delicately spun sugar-work in the shape of birds' nests and hedgerows.

Eventually the sweetness became too close, and I left. She burnt a tray of brittle instantly, the sweet luxury quickly becoming ashen and bitter.

Winter.

Ah, winter. So cold and still, so ruthless and straightforwards. Beautiful but deadly, the cold clings to your eyelashes and joints, the fresh shock of the freeze arriving with every blast of wind. A pale, washed out land, it would seem that many things have stopped dead, but for the fae of the winter court, the extreme brings clarity. Reverence for the simplicity of the season makes the winter court a quietly meditative place. The stars are all the more visible in the lengthened nights, and deep, cold pools of water reflect them, glassy surfaces gathering the starlight so that it may be collected and bottled. The forests are home to great elk, vast in size, picking their way through the pale trees, antlers crowned with moonlight. Weapons made from their bones can be fashioned, and will instantly freeze any mortal wounded by it, cold seeping into their souls.

The fae of this thought are pensive, thoughtful and careful. In this case, the chase was mine, the prize a courtier of high regard. With guile and charm I persuaded her to choose me, and she wrapped me in ermine furs and walked with me through the woods with the sound of softly collapsing snow drifts to accompany us. We would sit on sparse hilltops in a land cast in blues and grays and watch the night sky, hours and days and weeks contentedly filled with quiet rapture, responsibilities and roles cast aside.

Sadly, it wasn't just her who forgot. She confessed later that she knew why I was there, and I had suspected that she was not the only prize. But in the game of wits and love and honour, we both forgot ourselves. And when it came time, her gleaming dagger of antler lay forgotten by mine of thorn and vine.

She had had intended to kill me when she tired of my company. I had been dispatched to sew chaos within the other courts. After all, everything is planned. The baker wove secrets into her buns, recipes for concealment and code plaited with every braid of bread and twist of pastry. The passionate young courtier of summer was no more a fool in love than I, and when we realised neither would give up their secrets we parted like a valley around a river. The winter courtier and I were too loathe to trust, too infatuated to follow through. I journeyed home from her realm with her elk-bone knife tucked into my belt, and my blossoming thorn dagger stayed in her private garden.

Spring.

It has been an age in mortal years since I left the fae realm.

The world beyond it has always seemed insignificant to me. While some fae find entertainment and companionship in humans, there doesn't seem to be anything to gain from it beyond idle amusement. There is nothing that I have an interest in gaining from the waking realm. I did spend a time wandering it's forests and glens, where our worlds touch. Power there, although meaningless, was easy to accrue, with an all too devoted trail of creatures who would be passionately, vividly inspired. In those times it mostly took the form of song, but I'm told mortals have expanded now to many expressions of creativity. Though it has been the blink of an eye for the fae, humans have come far, or so they think.

I sit by a stream in the spring realm in the dewy morning surrounded by bird calls, blossoms gently falling into the waters and covering my hair, pale and stark against the deep black curls. The early morning is a blessed time, where the beacon of a new day fills the realm of spring with it's effervescent, nebulous quality of promise. Potential. The eyes of the spring court turn skywards into the lavenders and blush tones of the new day as they clear amid pale lemon clouds to powder blue skies. Fields of grass sway beside pools and lakes, the motion of the wind spelling out the secrets of the earth as it shakes.

The spring court is the fairest, but of course I will think that, with it being my home. Everything here is soft, and sweet- not like the dull shades of autumn or the gaudy brights of summer. Gentle showers blow through like so many kisses, and warm evenings are filled with tender, budding romances and rivalries. Young courtiers are effervescent before their lips turn blue from poison and their smiles twist in ugly grimaces of pain. The smarter ones will learn to avoid certain smells, to drink meticulously prepared tinctures of nightshade so they cannot be harmed by it, to recognise hemlock and aconite in the woods. Eventually they will learn to poison their enemies before they get the chance to return the favour. The death toll at parties can become very large by the time all is said and done.

Humans have transformed their world, so the fae who have visited it say. Ungraceful monoliths rise from a plague of fumes and metal, the tortured earth filled with the scream of their machines. Luminous portals sit in their hands and transport them and their chittering lives around their realm. They think the world is bent to their will, and see themselves as the grand custodians of nature's creation. Perhaps it's time to walk in their world again, to see for myself this "civilisation" they think they have built.

Who knows how they could soon factor into my plans.

[jimlingss]

Annihilation of You [1/2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 (finale) Words: 8.4k Genre: Fluff, Slight Crack, Soulmate!Au, Evil Genius!Au, Post Apocalyptic!Au  Summary: You have one goal: destroy the world. Only one thing stands in your way: your soulmate. Looks like you’re going to have to destroy him first. → Inspired by this and this.

You will destroy the world.

Mankind will be eradicated and the plains will be ravaged. The human species will be vaporized and Earth will be brought back to it’s previous natural state; luscious greenery and vegetation with thriving lifeforms. Warm sunlight will filter through tall and overgrown trees, animals will return to their indigenous habitats and the air will become freshly crisp once more.

No longer will decaying bodies lay on dirt. No longer will the smog pollution fill the sky in shades of brown and gray. The selfish desires of the elite and the mindset of materialism won’t rule over hearts, blind eyes with greed. War won’t be a word in the dictionary or a concept in existence.

No one can stop you.

MUHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!

“Your. evil. laugh. is. quite. reaching. its. ultimate. form. of. excellency. Y/N.” Elise speaks with a monotone voice. It’s unemotional and flat - exactly the way you made her. Perfect.

You swivel around in your chair. “Silence, Elise.”

A hundred years ago, civilization fell to absolute shit when leadership was held by immature individuals. Strained diplomatic relations resulted in one country nuking another's and the other nuking everyone. If that wasn’t bad enough, a top secret lab somewhere in the desert was broken into. Experimental monkeys ended up running rampant on the streets.

Apparently, the government had been purposely trying to develop a disease to drop in enemy territory but from the burglary, the virus was set loose into the world. As one may expect, an epidemic immediately broke out. It made the dead walk with an undying thirst for living human flesh. These mindless creatures were called ‘zombies’ or at least that’s what you read in the historical books.

Fortunately, in approximately fifty years from the initial outbreak, all the zombies rotted to death.

Billions had died but there were still a handful of fighting (rather lucky and miraculous) survivors out there, building their way back into the world in sophistication and paving a way for civilization once more. But you didn’t feel an ounce of fascination - not even as a child. You facepalmed and groaned, covering your face with the white pages of the worn book.

Why were humans such idiots?

They were simply going to repeat everything over again. People never learn. They were going to run this planet to the core before they’ll realize. Sure, you could just migrate to another planet but you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night with the thought of these idiotic species raging in existence.

Thus, for as long as you could possibly remember, you had a dream to end humanity once and for all.  

“Perfect! Perfect!”

Another stream of menacing laughter leaves parted lips. Your fingers tap furiously over the keyboard, screen flickering to show the progress of the rockets currently lying dormant underground.

“The. progress. is-.” Elise emits her speech through the speakers. “-at. exactly. ninety-point-zero. percent. Approximately. three. months. until. completion. and. detonation.”

“Right on track.” You mumble under your breath. It takes one simple push to move from your console computer desk to the engine in the corner.

It’s a chunk of metal with wires running inside the box, circuits shooting out as you flip the switch. It screeches a horrendous pitch as it boots up, the screen lighting to blind your eyes. It may take up quite a bit of space but it works and you can’t be bothered to modify it to a smaller size - not when you’re working on eliminating human kind.

“Show me.”

Your voice commands the machinery and it responds with a dry “activating”.

You had assembled this mechanism decades before, an idea that had been in the works and only tangible a few months ago after innumerable amounts of tweaking. The incompetent would call it a ‘future portal’. But it isn’t. It’s plainly artificial intelligence that measures tendencies, personalities and patterns. It assesses the probability of what is most likely to occur and displays it.

Ninety-nine percent accuracy.

Unfortunately for you, it only shows three months in advance. It busts every time you attempt to look farther into the future and the accuracy halves. Nevertheless, it does not matter. You’re on schedule. Nothing else can possibly happen. You’re going to wipe out this world either way.

“Exhibiting…....” The words flash across the monitor. “Three months from today….”

It suddenly goes black and you mutter a curse, ready to slam the machine but then it illuminates again, so bright that you hold your hand up to your eyes, wincing away. “What the-”

Laughter. It isn’t menacing. It isn’t ominous or threatening. It doesn’t loom darkness over sunlight, doesn’t rise goosebumps on skin or cause vicious animals to shudder. It’s the type of laugh...or rather...giggle that bubbles from the heart and swelled cheeks sore from smiling. It’s a sound so unlike your evil snickers. It’s genuine and light, floating like innocent clouds.

It’s disgusting.

And it’s your voice. It’s your laughter.

“What the hell?” A breathless whisper leaves your mouth and you hesitate to bring down your arm. Though once you do, for the first time in eternity, you’re utterly baffled.

Your jaw drops, your pupils dilate and your heart palpitates at a dangerous pace. You fall back into your swivel chair and you nearly faceplant onto the floor. “Oh my god.”

It’s you. on the screen. in the arms. of. a. male.

He’s embracing you from behind, hands clasped together at your stomach. He smiles down, eyes crinkling with a soft expression. Most importantly...you’re looking up at him with an endeared look as if he’s your everything. And the both of you are SWAYING?! TOGETHER???????????????????????????????

“What the-” You’re unable to comprehend the fuzzy film in front of you, instead choosing to pound your fist on the table. “Show me the second most likely future.”

The engine hears your command and the monitor flickers.

This time the stranger is holding a bouquet of flowers with a sly smirk, presenting it in front of you while you’re in a...flustered form?!?! Impossible! There must be a malfunction within the system. You don’t even allow other living lifeforms into your dome.

“Show me the third future!” You scream a command, howl ricocheting off your metal ceiling.

The third future shows the stranger. The fourth, fifth and sixth occupy his smiling face. Your hand meant to type out codes of destruction are held by his. Ugh. He’s pecking you on the cheek, on the forehead, on the edges of your knuckles. Needless to say, it’s horrific. Your worst nightmare. An absolute abomination!

It’s when you see the seventh, when your mouth is curled upwards and you’re murmuring an ‘I love y-’ when you decide enough is enough. Your clenched fist hurls itself at the keyboard and the screen goes dark, aware of your outrage and shutting off automatically.

“Elise.” You spit her name past gritted teeth.

None of the futures even include the extinction of humans.

She replies as you run a frustrated hand through your hair. “What. can. I. do. for. you. your. greatness.”

“Identify this male mortal.”

When you push your swivel chair back to the main console, the humongous screen that’s nailed onto the entire expanse of the wall shows a standard picture of the stranger. The image rotates to show his entire body, fully clothed of course. You don’t need to be blinded. “His. name. is. Kim. Seokjin.”

“Kim. Seokjin. is. sixty. three. kilograms. in. weight. and. his. height. is. one. hundred. seventy. nine. centimeters. He. is. age. twenty. four. He. is. in. prime. condition. for. procreation.”

You groan into your hands, waving the air to silence her. It takes a full moment before you sharply inhale and sit straight with undeterred calmness. “Where is he located?”

She states motionlessly, “A. developing. town. exactly. nineteen. kilometers. west.”

Humans. Didn’t they know that you built this home with the intention of living in complete isolation? Since when did they move so quickly? Were they planning to pillage the land again and overpopulate themselves? Above all, why didn’t you notice beforehand? Were you really that focused on your task that you failed to see? Nineteen kilometers is merely four hours on foot. If some fool decided to walk in one direction for all of that time, they would certainly run into your abode.

You make a note to later set up an invisible shield around the grounds to conceal yourself.

“What is his personality? His habits and natural tendencies?” You lean in close. “His weaknesses.”

Your computer program takes a long moment before answering, running through the database and data processor, all known history and encyclopedias. You’re holding in your breath, closing your eyes to prepare for the spew of material but then- “insufficient information.”

“Elise. Tell me.” You inhale a steady breath. “How likely is it...that he will be in my future?”

You’ve held in the temptation to scream your head off, to slam your shiny keyboard and break your extensive computer monitors. Never in your life before have you felt so out of control.

No one can stand in the gateway to your goal. Not that you’d exactly want to but in a heartbeat, you’ll annihilate anyone who stands in your way-

“One hundred percent.” Elise says. “He. is. someone. you. may. call-”

Preposterous. The word that she speaks, the very concept of it, is not suppose to exist. It’s an idea with the purpose of fulfilling recreational pleasures in romanticized novels and movies. It goes against the very core of science, biology and mathematics. But Elise is never wrong. No. She is your artificial intelligent servant, assistant to you and head of your entire engine. She is the entire foundation of the dome. You built her to be foolproof. Perfect.

She is incapable of lying. If she isn’t wrong, then she speaks the truth.

“-soulmate.”

It’s a tiny obstacle. A crack in your flawlessly paved path. A bump in the road. It may be small but it still stands in your way. Without hesitation, you’re already aware of the next course of action.

You’re going to have to annihilate the so-called Kim Seokjin.

//

The sunrays beam down past the black clouds, making you scowl at the natural brightness. You were used to your white artificial lighting, automatically able to adjust to the size of your pupils and to avoid straining your eyes. If that wasn’t any bad then you were certainly despising the way dirt was surrounding your clean shoes. What you were glad for, however, was that the measly humans had buried all the dead bodies surrounding the area. At least they weren’t that idiotic to leave decaying flesh above ground to manifest more diseases.

The town reminded you of the medieval era, an image you remember directly out of the encyclopedia. Like the barren land surrounding the region, it is hues of sepia and gray, somber and shabby with maze-like alleyways. Their homes are made from timber frames and brick roofs, the tallest of ones only two stories high. The meager dwellings are of stone and even straw. However, unlike the actual medieval times, humans had already been through this part of history. Despite their lacking construction abilities as they have yet to build machinery to improve the process, their law and order was still modernized.

You estimate that it wouldn’t take long, perhaps only a few decades, before humanity can recover from their losses and build modern society again. But that isn’t any of your problem. You’ll end them before they get the chance. You just have to find him.  

“There he is…” You mutter to yourself, a habit you find no sense in fixing. “What is he doing?”

You’re hidden in the shadows, behind a thick trunk of a birch tree. A black clock adorns your body, hood risen to conceal your features in case someone were to catch a glimpse. More importantly, in your hands, fingers curled around the trigger, is a ray gun. With one shot, he’ll disintegrate into ash, zap into dust. And all your complications will dissolve as quickly as his scream will muffle in his annihilation. One pull, one second, one beam that will fire from the muzzle and he will cease to exist!

“Muhaha-” A mute cackle befalls from your lips but as quickly as it came, it suffocates in your throat. Your eyes double and you peer closer to the scene unravelling - it’s him. “What the..”

The thin trees with curling branches become motionless as the whipping wind stills, a few leaves twirling down to the ground. The cloud shifts, black smog cleared by the yellow luminescent light; it casts a soft glow around his form, his skin soaking in the warmth and eyes flaming with a twinkle. Your breath hitches, heart batter against your chest like a knuckle to a door, pleading for permission to enter. And you despise how cliché it all is - how time feels like it stops, how you can feel and not logically scrutinize why you sense a link to him. It’s as if there’s an invisible silk ribbon, tying yourself to him and him to you, putting you at mercy to his hand.

A curse sounds past your breath.

He is dressed in a rugged plaid shirt, shabby clothing that unfortunately doesn’t take away from his objective handsome outer appearance. But what irritates you even more is the idiotic, foolish grin that adorns his face. His cheeks are swollen, eyes are crinkled into ignorant bliss as he assistants the elderly lady with her heavy brown bags. Elderly. A human far past their prime and no longer useful for procreation nor their knowledge, years of wisdom flown away with their awareness.

The stranger, Kim Seokjin, crouches down to grab her bags and smiles once more as she loops her arm around his bigger one, helping to walk across the alleyways. Without realizing, your finger on the trigger slips. The ray gun falls, your arm drops. You falter.

His head darts back and his shuffling feet halt. It’s as if he, like you, has automatically sensed a presence. It’s an instinct, the subconscious mind screaming out to draw the both of you together. It’s a reflex, like jolting away from the heat of a flame, a reaction that you cannot control. Destiny has binded your futures together.

You immediately inhale a sharp breath, turning around to remain unseen, undisturbed in the shadows. You hope he didn’t catch you and you don’t linger so he can. Within the next heartbeat, you swipe the fallen weapon and withdraw the hoverboard from your bag. As you make your escape, you can only curse him a million times over.

“Dammit. I’ll get you, Kim Seokjin.” Your body tears through the air, hair whisking back. “Even if it’s the last thing I goddamn do!”  

Jin’s eyes narrow at the tree. He swears...he saw someone there.

//

Being in control means everything and more. Disregarding that it may be one step too many, it’s better to be prepared when expecting the worse. That’s why you’re on the cold floor, constructing a robot in early hours of the morning instead of working on the rockets to eradicate mortal life.

The time of day doesn’t hold any significance to you, you’ve worked past midnight on countless occasions previously. The measurement of time is merely a human construct after all, an individual shouldn’t allow the concept to rule their life. However, it has been two full days since you slept. You’ve been working on a pill to decrease the length of rest necessary, though you must admit, it’s on the backburner.

“Your. android. to. exterminate. Kim. Seokjin. is. at…” Elise pipes up, the screen monitor showing blueprints of your new machine. “...fifty. percent. until. completion.”

“Good. Good.” You rub your sweaty hands together and wipe your forehead.

“You. have. approximately.” She takes a second to calculate. “one. hour. left. until. losing. consciousness. due. to. exhaustion.”

You hum in a delayed response. In case something happens to you, which it won’t, you’re constructing a cyborg to finish your mission. It’s sole purpose is to dispose of Kim Seokjin.

In the next twenty minutes, you clasp your hands together, standing to your feet. Elise flicks off the lights, blessing you farewell as the console goes dark into shut down. You retire to your room, flopping on top of the cool mattress. Exhaustion takes over and in your bleary mind, you conclude that more information will be necessary to obtain on the stranger. If you can find his weaknesses, obliterating the man will be child’s play. Then and only then can you finally reach your ambition…

//

“Where is he…?” You mutter, scoping the premise and scowling when you can’t find the human. As dirty and overpopulated the town is, hundreds of others have probably walked past you now.

There seems to be no other choice. You’ll have to rise from the bushes and go actively seeking out the stranger. It’s better that way, rather than hiding for another three hours and allowing your legs to become more numb than they are.

As you raise your hood and look both ways until the coast is clear, you beseech any higher power that your human interaction will be as limited as possible.

“Excuse me.” Someone interrupts your thoughts, a light tap on your left shoulder that has you flinching in dread and disgust. You haven’t even made it two minutes, ten meters before a member of the baboon species has bothered you. “I’m sorry. This must be so rude of me and I deeply apologize but have I met you somewhere befo-”

“What?” You bitterly bite, swiveling harshly on your heel and wondering what kind of beggar it is, dazed from greed and trying to scam you for wealth.

Except, you’re met with wide orbs the shade of chestnuts, doe and innocent eyes that seem genuinely soft. A tiny glimmer in his pupils light as he connects them with yours. The fingers that tapped your shoulder, now by his side, are the cause of your recoil. The simple touch had seeped through your cloak, pulsating your skin. Against science and pure logic, you’re afraid that if he lays another hand, sparks will conduct.

“Oh- I’m..uh..” He seems taken back as you are, shuffling awkwardly for a mere moment until he freezes altogether. He plasters his vision onto your features as if fearful that you’ll disappear into thin air and he’ll forget. “I’m Kim Seokjin.”

“I’m fully aware.” You grunt out incoherently.

He tips his head to the side in confusion, brows tangling. “What?”

That’s when it hits you. He’s seen your face. He’s looking it at it. right. now.

You stagger backwards with horror laced in your features, ready to vomit and scream - perhaps both at the same time. As if telepathic, he grabs your hand with concern washing over his appearance. “Are you okay? Miss?”

Fate seals in the deal. The brush of his thumb against your palm, collision of emotions enveloping your soul. He, too, frowns at the sudden feeling of warmth washing over inside of him. Goosebumps raise along your skin, your heart pauses for a brief moment. Addicted to the sense of comfort, he tightens his caress on your hand. “What-?”

You retract your hand from his grasps, urgently holding it up for inspection. From your sudden movement, his word becomes forgotten. After a good second of silence, he breaks out into a tiny smile. Your brows are furrowed together, orbs misty in contemplation. You’re completely aloof, unaware of your surroundings and distracted by the million thoughts spewing inside your brain.

“Miss? Excuse me?” Jin lowers himself to match your height and he waves a hand in front of your face. You instantly snap out of it, in alarm of his close proximity and for a mere flash, you catch the plushness of his lips-

Disengage. Disengage. Disengage.

Your own brain blares at you. Nonetheless, you find your limbs immobile, glued to the ground while you gaze back into his honey irises.

Y/N. You are currently speaking to the enemy. You have come into contact with the enemy.

Disengage. Disengage. Disengage immediately.

“Ha. Ha…..” You back away, shooting your hands out cautiously. “It was my pleasure meeting you, Kim Seokjin. Unfortunately, I have substantial matters to attend to. Farewell then.”

You run for the hills.

“Wait!” He shouts after your dashing form. “Will I see you again?”

You mutter spitefully under your breath. “Oh you will.”

Seokjin stands in the middle of the barren street, fully bewildered until he melts into a smile. How odd. With clasped hands, he turns and walks away. Though he can’t seem to stop his mind from thoughts of you. What a strange girl. What made him stop you, a stranger no less, in the middle of the road; he has no idea. It felt almost….instinctual.

He shakes his head, finding it a shame that he never caught your name.

//

It’s a bad idea.

You know it is. Never in your entire existence have you done something so illogical. Every decision you’ve made up to this point has been calculated and objective. Never have you been moved purely by desire and passion. Yet, here you are, looking for none other than Kim Seokjin.

“There you are!” He perks up, running from your peripheral vision and nearly scaring you half to death. “I thought I was never going to see you again!”

He huffs and puffs, having just sprinted and you curse under your breath. After a week of contemplation, you had decided to leave the dome to do more observations on your victim. How he found you so easily after you had been wandering around for half an hour is beyond your comprehension. Perhaps it's the intuition that binds you both together as soulmates - the man just happens to listen to his heart more than you do, hence, he was able to find you before you could find him.

Dammit.

A part of you up to this very moment refuses to believe the concept of soulmates. It must be by chance that he found you. Luck or rather, your unluckiness.

It’s your misfortune and his serendipity.  

You should’ve built that invisibility blanket you’ve been thinking about.

“I’m sorry.” Kim Seokjin scratches the back of his neck out of anxiousness. You wonder why your infamous hard stare hasn’t scared him off. “I know we haven’t properly met and I’m already acting like I know you. I don’t even know your name. It’s just the last time- I..um..”

You take out your hand, motioning him to silence as you often do to Elise. You’re saving him from his embarrassment and blunders. “Your apology has been received. Further contemplation is required before acceptance or rejection. Thank you, have a nice day.”

“Wait. Wait.” He catches up to you, matching your frantic pace. His legs cramp from the long strides but he ignores the sting. “I don’t know your name.”

“Is there any purpose for you to obtain the information of my name?”

“Yes.” He says firmly with a nod. “Call me crazy...it’s just a feeling….but I think we’ll be meeting each other a lot more. I want to see you.”

“You’re crazy.” You snarl back, flashing another cold glare before you clear your throat and pin your eyes straight ahead. Hopefully he’ll get off your back and you’ll be able to follow him from afar. “And I am certain that there won’t be any more encounters between our partnership. Not that there was any partnership in existence. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Kim Seokjin pouts. The homo sapien male or rather….child has the audacity to jut out his bottom lip and flash you the biggest puppy eyes. The second you catch it from your peripheral vision, you turn to him in absolute dismay. He stops walking and you’re also forced to a standstill.

He blinks once, batting his eyelashes.

“But I told you my name.” He whines. “Don’t you think it’s rather unfair, miss?”

“There is no reason for you to know.”

“There is a reason.” He asserts fearlessly. “I’m curious and interested in you. Not necessarily with a romantic perspective but I’m interested in you as a person. If you couldn’t tell, you’re a very beautiful lady with a smart and confident aura. I like it.” He scans you from top to bottom before murmuring- “I like you.”

You’re wholly stunned. You’ve never met nor interacted with someone so blunt before.

With a few dazed blinks in his direction, you crane your neck forward again and continue walking. “Why do you wear a black cloak?” He tips his head in curiosity, matching your pace that’s slower than before. “Where did you get it from?” Kim Seokjin frowns at the fabric, wondering if it is actually velvet and how you could possibly find the materials or sew something so luxurious in this day and age.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”  

You ignore his third question, strolling ahead casually. That is until a smaller, two meter tall, human species comes toddling in front of you. “Do you have spare change?” The tiny boy looks up to you with glistening eyes and you flinch, coiling back. Without realizing, you bump into Kim Seokjin’s chest and with a delay in reaction, his hands wrap around your shoulders to steady you.

“I think I do.” Kim Seokjin chirps up, letting go of you to dig into his pocket. “Here you go.”

The child’s orbs light up as he receives the golden coin and Jin mimics the grin, watching as the younger skips to the bread stand. “Don’t worry.” The man murmurs close to your ear, breaking you from your reverie and guiding you to continue walking ahead. “None of us are infected.”

For the first time, you take a good look around the town and to the people whose faces you’ve ignored. The mortals all range from age, some with wrinkled foreheads and others with doe eyes. A few are smiling while others are sulking but their appearances, though shabby with dirt stains marring their skin, is much like your own. “If we’re still alive, that means we’re immune to the disease. If not, we’d already be dead.”

You nod, allowing your thoughts to become your words. “Interesting. Those who were unaffected by the outbreak a century ago passed on the same genes to their offsprings.” Jin dips his head, acknowledging that you are indeed correct. “Fascinating how resilient the human species can be. However, that wasn’t why I was apprehensive about the child. I’m simply….not used to children.”

You’re not exactly sure why you’re expressing your troubles to him. “...their dirty hands and innocence. Humans in general, as a matter of fact. I am unfamiliar with them and rather uncomfortable with their excessive ignorance.”

Jin scoffs out of amusement, eyeing you quite closely as he walks by your side. “Aren’t you a human?”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You snap back. Making it to the end of the empty alley, it’s time for you to dismiss his presence from your life. “Farewell, Kim Seokjin.”

“Wait!”

You pull out your hoverboard from your knapsack, his eyes doubling in confusion on the device but you disregard his emotions. He’s going to die soon anyways. There’s no point in explaining anything to him.

As you step onto the floating device, you linger with a bit of hesitance, deciding to turn around and face him once more. That’s right, he’s going to die soon. There won’t be a problem in gracing him with one last gift. “I will reward the knowledge you have given me with my name. But beware, Kim Seokjin, your interest in me will only lead you closer to your demise.”

With no one in the vicinity, you disclose the information and in the next second, you’re flying away in the direction of your home.

He whispers it underneath his breath, prayer-like as his irises are transfixed on your retreating form. “Y/N.”

//

The lights are dimmed to nothing, shadows nonexistent as darkness has taken over. The only source of luminescence is the giant monitor behind your console, laying out blueprints and rotating the 2D model you’ve constructed. In order to get back onto schedule, you’ve been working at an astronomical pace. The shell and exterior of the killing android has been completed. All you need to do now is input the code you've created and modify the last microchips for any flaws.

Except, when you reach into your pocket, the small USB is absent.

“What..?” You dig inside all of your bags, even lifting the sole of your shoes to check if you hid it there for safety measures. “Elise.” She boots back up after resting. “Locate my Universal Serial Bus Flash Drive.”

“Locating.” She buffers for a millisecond. “The. data. storage. device. containing. the. code. for. Kim. Seokjin’s. assassination. has. been. misplaced. It. is. not. in. the. vicinity. of. the. area.”

“Dammit to all hell.” You drop down in your swivel chair. “Bring me the backup version.”

The next words she motionlessly utters, “backup. version. is. not. saved.”, causes a strangled screech to leave your throat.  

“WHAT?!”

“Auxiliary. automatic. save. mode. requires. a. system. update. I. have. reminded. you. previously. two. months. ago. however. you. informed. me that. time. cannot. be. wasted. and. all. efforts. must. be. put. into. destroying. humanity. Therefore. the. console. has. not. been. updated. since.”

“You better not be sassing me right now, Elise.” You retort sharply and she asks for pardon to which you dismiss her. “Nevermind then. Is there any way we can receive a copy of that information again?”

“No.”

Her cold cut answer leaves you dismayed, putting your head in your hands with a drawn out sigh. You’ll have to start anew which won’t be too horrendous considering you still remember some of the patterns. It’s the mere fact that eighty four hours of work has gone to waste and now you’ll have to do it over again; it’s inefficient and all because of your blunders.

As you lift your hands, ready to start flying over the keys of your console to begin a new program, there’s a clear heard knock. Knuckles to metal, reverberating to the ceiling and the empty spaces around your engines. It’s slow, to a beat of a funeral lullaby but distinct, cutting through the air. You hitch your breath and even Elise is silent, registering the sound as it’s an action that has never arisen before.

You still your movements, making sure that it’s true and not a hallucination. Then there’s another knock, three in rapid succession. “Elise….”

Ding, dong, doong, ding. Ding, dong, doong, ding.

A springy bell plays, echoing through your eardrums.

Since when did you put in a doorbell? More importantly, who was on the other side?

“Elise.” You calmly call her name. “Show me the security cameras around the premise and identify who is causing such a ruckus in my abode.”

All ten computer monitors and the large one against the wall flicker to the different surveillance cameras that have been installed in and around your metal dome. There’s one in your bedroom, three in the current room you’re in, a few in the surroundings areas and in your greenhouse and two outside the door. “Is that...oh my god...it’s-”

“Kim. Seokjin. has. been. identified.” She says. “Would. you. like. me. to. activate. the. sonic. blasters.”

You watch as he lingers on the outside of your steel door with naiveté, shifting the weight of his feet as he sways from side to side. He must be humming some kind of tune. His lips are upturned, adorning a reserved smile meant more for himself than for others. You wonder if he’s feeling chilly, the metal dome’s location is near snowy mountains, something you deliberately chose as it would prevent humans from running into your home. But here he is….

“Yes.” You murmur and the floor tile shifts next to you, a pillar rising to your abdomen with a button. One click is all it takes. One click and he will be burst into cinders. A simple movement and your problem will cease to exist. You’ll become closer to your goal. Kim Seokjin will die.

“Hello?” He innocently taps his hand onto the steel door again. “Is anyone home?”

From the gray of the camera shot, he visibly shudders and moves his hands to brush the goosebumps on his arms. His brown soft eyes scans the area behind him, taking a step back to look around. “Hello, Miss Y/N?”

The way he calls your name makes you wince and grit your teeth. You have the ability to do this, Y/N. You coax yourself, preparing by counting down from ten, tapping your feet with each number. He’ll erupt into space and you can continue on your path. You can do it.

“Hello?”

You can do it.

“It’s me, Jin!”

You can do this.

“Y/N?”

You can kill Kim Seokjin.

Your arm jolts and you slam down on the button, the muscles in your arm contracting at the mere power. There’s a reticence and then a smooth whoosh, the creaks ringing around the span of the cold room. You curse yourself underneath your breath, questioning the action that has been committed but it is too late for more contemplation. The time has arrived to deal with the consequences.

“Opening. the. entrance. for. Kim. Seokjin.”

The pillar next to you descends back underground and the floor tile sides back into place. The entrance button you nearly smashed on your console stays stuck down, something you’ll probably have to fix. With a frustrated exhale and the cautious strides that are getting closer and closer, you turn around in your swivel chair. “Welcome Kim Seokjin. How may I assist you today?”

His mouth if fully agape, staring up and down, at the floor to the ceiling, at your countless monitors before his eyes land on yours. “What is this place?”

“Great question.” You’ve decided - this wasn’t so bad. If anything, your victim just walked straight into the lion’s den. If anything, now that you have him cornered, assassinating him won’t be so difficult.

“This is where I reside. The metal dome reflects against harsh sunlight beams, in case the rays become dangerous, which they will one day in the far future. It’s also resistant to natural disasters, explosives and nuclear power. As you can see around here-” you motion to your console, “-I have access to contemporary technologies and sciences.” You inhale a breath from your rant. “Now that I’ve answered your question, it’s time you answer mine. How did you get here?”

He blinks at you five times, letting the information sink in. “I-uh...you dropped this.” Kim Seokjin holds up the small, black USB that you’ve lost. “And...uh..um...I-...you didn’t come back. So, I just walked in the direction you left in.”

The both of you don’t speak, merely staring at each other.

“You walked for four hours?”

“Yes.”

“In the cold?”

“Yes.”

Is he an idiot? Or is he just that benevolent?

“I must commemorate you for your perseverance.”

“Thank you.”

There’s yet another long pause and you take the opportunity to formulate a new plan.

He smiles at you, a tiny gesture that causes an irregular pattern to your heart. (You should really get that checked out by Elise in case you have some sort of illness). Jin is in an old gray sweater and dark pants, face fatigued and shoes dirty from the hard trek here. Something lodges inside your throat but you shake off the unidentifiable emotions, standing up.

“Well, I guess I can show you around.” You take a step back, joining his side as you motion to the large room. “This is….what you call a...living room. I have my console that controls everything, my computer screens and the engines I’ve been working on…” The entire expanse of the circular room is filled with gray machinery.

Jin nods and then hesitates to ask another question. “...do you have a couch?”

“No. It is unnecessary for my lifestyle.” You continue, walking towards the other end where you kick open a latch on the ground, the floor automatically moving upwards. “This is a staircase that leads to my own bedroom, where I may rest my eyes occasionally.” You point to the door a few meters away. “That leads to an underground railway system. It goes to the greenhouses in the arctic.”

“The arctic?” He is bombarded with a million more inquiries that swarm through his head, tipping his skull to the side as he wears a frown. “You grow your own food?”

“Yes.” You sit back down in your swivel chair. “The arctic is the perfect place, no human occupying the space there. Solar power is used to supply energy to the greenhouse.”

“Do you have a kitchen?”

“No. It is unnecessary.” You hitch your thumb to the espresso-like machine on the table near your future portal engine monitor. “I have constructed something more efficient. It is a drink that includes all the nutritional value required to sustain my life. The materials in my greenhouse are used to construct it.”

“Then do you farm?”

“No. I have robots and androids manning the stations.”  

He hums as if the answer was obvious and he takes another look around at the barren room. “You don’t have any windows at all?”

“Windows are unnecessary. I have surveillance cameras all over the premise.” You point to the ceiling. “However it is possible to shift the very top ceiling as it is glass. On days where I want to observe the constellations and other planets with my telescope, you know?”

He nods in skepticism. “Of course.”  

“Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to observe the cosmos for the past few months as I’ve been working on the destruction of this planet-” His ‘wait what?’ goes ignored by you. “Speaking of which, let me introduce you to Elise.”

You’re not exactly sure why you’re sharing all this classified information with him. Perhaps because you’re fully aware that he will perish within the next few hours and you’re simply enriching his last moments by sharing your immense knowledge. Seeking to make ignorant humans competent is virtually impossible but you’re having quite a lot of fun showing him your abode. You haven’t had an acquaintance to chat to in a long while and your chest swells with pride at your copious accomplishments.

“Welcome. Kim. Seokjin.” She says, voice emitting from the top of the room and he jumps back in surprise. “My. name. is. Elise. I. am. the. finalized. version. created. more. than. ten. years. ago. holding. the. database. of. all. information. and. the. foundation. of. Y/N’s. dome.”

You watch him closely. Perhaps he’s questioning if this is all a delusion part of his REM cycle.

It must be a lot to take in. He might think you’re some kind of mad scientist. Maybe just plain crazy and psychotic. He’s probably contemplating plans to go back to his village and gather a mob of people to crash your house with pitchforks.

Goddamit, you should’ve built the invisible shield around your dome sooner.

Except, against your own predictions, Kim Seokjin does not take off into the opposite direction and bang his fists on the metal door, screaming on the top of his lungs for freedom. Instead, his orbs light up and he rushes forward to your console, mouth dropping with a giant grin. “This is amazing! You’re amazing!” He turns towards you, grasping your hands within his. “Wow! I have no words.” He is awestruck, studying your home before staring back into your eyes. “All of this...it’s incredible.”

You can’t force down the smile that itches on your mouth. “I know.”

//

It’s been a full hour since his unexpected arrival.

Now it’s time for him to go. And by go, you mean for his soul to leave his body.

“It’ll just take a few more moments.” You reassure him to which he cheerfully nods, still staring at the equipment and machinery around.

You’re hunched over a table, constructing a shabby meal that will satisfy his tastes. You could’ve given him your usual vitamin concoction but he expressed mild disinterest in it, shaking his head with ‘no thanks’. Luckily for you, the ingredients that made the drink were the same ones that were included in what humans called….a salad.

“Elise...give me it.” You whisper, glad that you were able to tone down the volume of her voice.

A part of the wall pushes out, revealing the sharp needle with the green fluid. “After. consumption. his. demise. will. occur. in. less. than. two. minutes.”

“Good, good.” A mutter leaves parted lips as you push the liquid into the wine, swirling around the glass to dissolve the poison. You dispose of the needle before whipping around with the tray. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time. I am aware that you must be starving.”

“Oh no, not at all. Thank you.” He watches as you place down the plate in front of him and the glass of his special concoction. “Wow, you have wine too?”

You’re aware of the delicacy of the drink and how luxurious it is in this era. “Yes. My androids are able to create anything with the right materials. But don’t feel shy, feel free.”

You plop down into the seat across the long table, taken out from your storage. With each of his hesitant movements, you gawk at him with focus, peering at his plump lips as it intakes the food. He makes a humming noise as it is suitable to his taste buds and you smile at the..adorable gest- nevermind that. Focus Y/N.

“It’s delicious.” His voice is muffled with the mouthful. “I haven’t had something so fresh in so long.”

“Drink.”

He becomes startled by your command. “I’m okay for now.”

“I insist.”

There’s some silence before he gives in. “Alright.”

Kim Seokjin curls his fingers around the handle and lifts it to his pink lips. They part while he tips his head back. The red liquid brushes his tongue as he swallows, humming at the taste. “It’s good.” He gasps a breath, bringing it down. “You’re really amazing.”

You clear your throat, whispering. “Thank you.”

“I really mean it.” He melts into another smile. “I know I may have come across as a bit intruding, talking to you when you don’t know me and asking for your name. I even came all the way to this place to find you again. But you invited me in and even offered me all of this. I….this may come across as even more strange...but I feel naturally drawn to you. I’m not sure why. I just can’t….stop thinking about you.”

For a moment, you want to bring out your hand to quiet him down. You nearly falter, unable to cope with the honest compassion you’ve never been able to muster. And the way he gazes at you with a silly grin makes it even more difficult for you to endure the pain that you’re feeling.

It’s suddenly so terrifying and direful to imagine his dead body limp on the table. “Kim Seokjin…”

“You can call me Jin.” He tilts his head. “But-” The kind male adds on. “-only if I’m allowed to call you Y/N. Can I drop the ‘Miss’?”

You nod meekly. “You’re allowed to.”

“Good...Y/N.” He downcasts his head, giggling to himself at the way your name rolls off his tongue. It somehow feels so...right. It’s as if he was meant to call your name.

“Jin.” He perks up with the sound of his name being called past your lips. “Goodbye.”

Kim Seokjin...or rather, Jin...your one and only soulmate mars his face with his furrowed brows. Then in the second that his eyes twinkle, he slumps onto the surface of the table. The plate clatters to the floor and shatters harshly, a hundred pieces spraying into the air.

You stay staring at his form, how his breathing is becoming more and more shallow. It won’t take long at all.

It won’t take long.

“Elise?” You break the peaceful atmosphere, allowing your inner turmoils to be transpired by the shaking of your hands.

“Yes. Y/N. What. can. I. do. for. you.” Elise is motionless. She lacks the carefree spring of life. She cannot feel emotions, cannot smile or express mirth. You’ve made her this way. She’s suppose to be...perfect.

Yet, she feels empty.

“Elise.” You speak calmly. “Hand me the antidote.”

This man is a threat to your goal. He is a mere obstacle that would be best to dispose of. He has done nothing for you and most likely will never help you with your ambition. He will be the cause of your imminent doom.

Still, as these thoughts blare inside your brain like an emergency alarm, you take the fragile vial from the pillar and into your hand. Each step you take, each time your heel grazes against the frigid tiles, getting closer and closer to the man named Kim Seokjin, it is as if time extends out. The weight that your feet carries grounds you to reality - what are you doing?

The cap is popped off by your thumb and you swing back your head, letting the bitter fluid lay on your tongue. You throw the vial onto the ground, letting it fragmentize with the shards of the plate. In one motion, you lift his face with your hands cupping his cheeks and you tilt your own head, meeting his lips. They’re soft like velvet but a kiss is merely a social construct. If individuals don’t allow it to become significant then it isn’t. But you can’t help but let your eyes flutter shut, your heart pound within its cage.

You part his mouth, allowing the antidote to quench his thirst.

Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. His body knows what it needs and he instinctively swallows the cure. Twenty. Thirty. Fourty. Fifty.

A full minute.

You drop your hold on him and he slumps back onto the table. A soft sigh leaves past his swollen mouth and his breathing evens. His heart palpitates back to it’s normal beat. And you’re left staring at his sleeping form, linger for a few moments before you turn and walk away.

Dammit. You saved him. Dammit to all hell. A million curses would not sedate the rage that riots inside your soul. He is the bane of your existence.

But you won’t lie - you let the kiss last longer than it needed to be.

//

The dawn has fallen. Then dusk had come but that too fell. When dawn broke once more, that’s when you shifted from your position in your swivel chair. You had been crouched over, hands clasped together in a prayer position, simply pondering the next course of action. But you had none.

“Show me him.” Your voice cracks and the screen monitor switches to his form thrown haphazardly on the bed.

After he had fallen into hibernation, you had transported him into a guest room. Well, the guest room was more like a prison. Okay, the guest room is a prison. It had a one sized person bed, a toilet, a security camera in the corner and the rest of the space was made up by the iron walls and steel door. You built it with the purpose in the unlikely event that would require you to keep someone captive.

“Is he alive?”

Elise answers. “Yes. He. is.”

“Good.” A steady exhale sounds as you move back. “Elise, what do you suppose I should do with him?”

She registers the inquiry, running through all the possibilities to find the most suitable answer. “Ending. his. life. will. be. most. efficient. And. it. is. the. best. method. You. can. also. isolate. him. away. from. society. and. remove. him. from. yourself. but. there. is no. reason. to. keep. him. alive. at. all. He. is. no. match. to. your. greatness. He. serves. you. no. purpose. Kim. Seokjin. will. ultimately. prevent. you. from. destroying. the. world.”

“I’m fully aware.” You groan within your hands. “I know, Elise.”

Never has a simple task been of so much difficulty.

Jin awakes as you’re still burdened with your many choices. He frowns and flinches before stretching out his stiff limbs. He coughs once and pulls back his lids, blinking a few times to clear his foggy vision. Despite the soreness in his neck and the aching of his arm as if someone had to physically haul him and throw him onto the mattress, never has he felt better. It’s like he’s congested the elixir of life.

He sits up and scans the tiny room. When he stands and makes his way to the door, the doorknob that he holds falls into his hand. “Uh…..sorry.” Jin places the brass knob onto the floor before knocking at the steel. “Hello? Anyone there? Y/N?”

With no answer, he looks around again before noticing the surveillance camera in the corner.

He stares directly at it. “Y/N?”

“He. is. awake.” Elise informs you and switches the monitor screen to the current live footage. You groan again, wondering if you should give him a sedative - buy more time so you can further weight each option you have.

“What should I do?”

“Y/N?” He calls again, tapping the lense of the device. “Hello?”

That’s when you snap. The many neurons in your brain light its path, creating a sensory overload. The stress oppresses your lungs and your throat tightens. You know the logical solution to your problem but you can’t….won’t. But if you keep him alive...if you keep him around….what will happen?

Right as you’re about to scream your head off - it clicks.

You’ll kill him. One way or another. But slowly.

You’re going to have to gradually kill Kim Seokjin.

You’ll lead him to his death through a leisure and painful way. If you feed him and ensure that he overeats his own capacity, he’ll die in a food coma. Perfect. It’s completely perfect.

MUHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!

“Kim Seokjin.” You eye him through the screen, pointing to his innocent features. “You’re going to stay with me until death takes you or me.”

[kpopfanficsforthesoul]

Forbidden Love- Rap Monster (BTS)

Genre: Romance, Angel/Demon!AU, Soulmate!AU

Prompt: We’re supposed to be sworn enemies, but you just saved my life? Perhaps its not so uncommon for an angel and demon to be in love… but what will fate say to that?

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Author’s Note: Namjoon would be such a good angel omg. Enjoy!

Namjoon smiled to himself as he walked merrily down the street. The sun shined golden streaks of light through the white clouds and onto his face. 

As a teenage angel-in-training, it was his task to stay on Earth for a dew days disguised as a human to do random acts of kindness to make the human’s lives better. Namjoon loved his upbringing. As a child prodigy in the subject of his angelic powers, all the other angels knew that he would do great things one day. Not only did he have true passion for helping people, but he was was ahead of his peers. 

“Your son is well on his way to becoming the next archangel!” people would tell his father. Half angel and half human, Namjoon was the son of an angel on the high council. 

Today, he wasn’t doing a very good job of blending in. Nothing could hide how ethereal he looked, with his glowing skin, bright eyes, and glimmering white suit. And of course, the official mark of angels, a golden harp, was tattooed on his wrist.

You glanced at the tattooed smudge on your wrist, tracing over the dark red outlines of the pitchfork engraved in your skin. Branded by the mark of demons, you were trying to pass as a human on Earth for a couple of days. Your father had really been ticking you off lately. He was a demon, after all. But you decided you would spend a week with your good natured human mother. 

Being half demon certainly had its challenges. You belonged to the dark side by immortal birth, however, the human side of you wanted to good things for the world instead of wreaking havoc on humanity. However, you couldn’t just cross over to the angel’s side. As soon as they saw the pitchfork embedded in your wrist, they’d despise you no matter what your morals were. It really sucked that they were always looked upon as the good guys, yet they took impunity to looking down on anyone who looked and seemed different than them. 

So, as half demon girl trying your best to make it through hell, you remained moody, distant, and of course, full of teenage angst. 

It was on one particular day when you were walking down a familiar sidewalk that something caught your eye. It was a man, walking with such light steps that he seemed to be floating down the sidewalk. He glistened with radiance as a cheerful smile beamed on his face. You took notice of the way his clean white suit sparkled in the reflection of the sunlight. 

You knew he was the exact opposite of you. You glanced down to your ripped jeans, black cut off tank top, and red high top converse. You knew he wasn’t the typical man you you’d double take for, but he was so… what’s that world the mortals use?

“Cute…” 

Before going on with your wandering, you noticed that he wasn’t stopping as he crossed the street. He was dreamily looking at the sky. However, as he did so, a car was turning down the street at top speed. Being a demon gave you certain powers. You could hear, see, and predict things that others couldn’t… and right now you could hear the driver of the car talking on her phone and focusing on her stereo. She wasn’t paying attention to the road, and neither was this glowing and extremely attractive stranger.

“Hey!” you yelled, running towards him, feet pounding on the pavement. He was a fair distance away, and you weren’t going fast enough by your normal speed. You knew you weren’t supposed to use your powers on Earth without a proper quest, but something was motivating you to save this guy. Something deep inside your soul was telling you that you had to do this. 

You quickly shut your eyes and concentrated, and before you knew it your legs were moving at lightning speed. When you got close enough, you threw your arms around the man and ran towards the other end of the street, right before the car came in contact with him. In half a second you were both on the sidewalk, safe, and tangled in each other’s arms. Being used to pain, you ignored the scrapes on your arms and looked up at his face. As you did so, he seemed to do the same, and your eyes locked in on each others. For one moment, time seemed to stop as you looked into those sparkling brown eyes.

It was so confusing to Namjoon. One second, he was walking down the street, and then it seemed as if without anytime passing, he was on the other side of the street staring into a pair of glistening golden eyes. As he looked over his shoulder, he saw a car zip by where he would have been standing… if not for this girl. 

“You… you just saved my life!” he managed to get out. 

The girl stood up, wiping the dirt off her jeans. She took her black beanie off her head, letting her bright blue hair tumble from the top. Namjoon took notice of how her piercings and tattoos glistened in the sunlight. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt a connection to her somehow. 

“I suppose I did.” she said jokingly. She then stuck her hand forward. “I’m Y/N.”

“Namjoon.” he responded, shaking her hand. As soon as they touched, they both felt an electric shock. Quickly, they pulled away from each other, realizing what this met. The girl looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I thought that only happened when you met your soumate?” she said, confused. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think immortals could be soulmates with mortals…” Namjoon told her, eyebrows furrowed.

“Good thing I’m half immortal.” she responded. He snapped his head back up. 

“You’re… a half human half angel too?” 

“Wait, you’re an angel?”

“You’re not?” 

They both glanced down to each others wrists, seeing the other’s branding. 

“Oh my God, this can’t be right…” you stuttered, holding Namjoon’s wrist in your hand. You ran your finger over the halo tattooed on it. As soon as you touched it, it turned blue. 

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” Namjoon scolded. “I don’t understand it either, but according to fate, we’re soulmates.”

“Does fate know that we’re supposed to be sworn enemies?” you inquired. 

“Do we?” he asked with a bright smile. He then grabbed your hand and ran off down the street. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his long legs. 

“To the ice cream shop!” he exclaimed, happily running down the street. 

“How is that going to help up figure this out?” you inquired.

“What’s there to figure out?” he said, stopping. “We’re soulmates… we should go on a date to learn more about each other.”

“But, our families-”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “I’ll bring a devil’s food cake to your family’s holiday party, you send an angel food cake to my Dad’s house, our human mothers can persuade them into liking us, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a way.”

And with that, he pulled you back down the street, in anticipation of sprinkles and a delicious dairy dessert. 

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed this! I had a little trouble figuring out just how to write this :p Thanks for reading!

[Masterlist]

-Marie 💗

[makerofrunevests]

A novelization of Loki and Thor’s ship journeys in Thor: The Dark World

Credit to Marvel for the characters, the plot, and the dialogue that is from the movie. @thorandlokibrothersforeternity ...I find my way into the dark ship, walking past Jane to where Thor is hopefully slapping assorted devices that may or may not be connected with awakening the vessel. “I thought you knew how to fly this thing.” I take up my old battle position, behind him and on his right.

     He slaps away at his environs. “I said, how hard could it be?”

     You idiot. Odin’s Einherjar are baying for our blood outside, battling Volstagg, and you haven’t an inkling how to awaken this, let alone fly it!  “Well, whatever you’re doing brother, I suggest you do it faster.”

     “Shut up, Loki.”

     “You must have missed something.”

     “No, I didn’t. I’m pressing every button on this thing.” He’s certainly trying.

     It is a complex machine, I have to admit it. “No, don’t hit it. Just press it gently,” I say patiently.

     He starts pummeling it with both great fists as if it were his partner in a fight, protesting, “I am pressing it gently, it’s not working!” All the light vanishes, and then blue charts and controls light the walls around us and he laughs triumphantly. Up in the air we go—does he know how to steer it? Around and around we spin, destroying columns, blue images of flying debris appearing on the walls. He does not know how to steer it.

     I sigh. “I think you missed a column!” 

     “Shut up!” he bellows, sounding as if the need to attempt to steer is the only thing keeping him from using me to attack a wall again.

     We blast out of the room by passing through the wall, and then flip sideways and under an arch of a viaduct. My stomach has taken up residence in my chest, my heart seems to be lost in some unknown location, and I’m discovering previously nonexistent stars. “Look, why don’t you let me take over, I’m clearly the better pilot.”

     He’s enjoying this. “Is that right? Well out of the two of us, which one can actually fly?”

     Light cannons fire bright blasts at us, but we keep flying. He chortles, apparently delighted by his father trying to kill him. Or perhaps by setting an Asgardian record for incompetence in pilots. I hear a soft noise and look back to see Jane in a small heap on the floor. He’s far too busy flying badly to notice, of course. “Oh dear, is she dead?”

     “Jane!” he calls out.

     She raises her hand and says weakly, “I’m okay.”

     The fact that we’re being fired at distracts me from this impressive lie. Red light blazes over us as a missile strikes the front of the ship, and I duck with a startled exclamation.  I didn’t really expect Odin to be so eager to kill Thor.

     Thor flies through a golden tower, and I look back, needing to verify that we just flew through an entire edifice. He glances at me. “Not a word.”

    Oh, lovely. Now the screens behind us are adorned with little warboats chasing us. “Now they’re following us.”

     The ship jars all over as their fire strikes us, and I lose my footing and fall, rolling and standing up at Thor’s left, my bound hands making that harder than necessary. “Now they’re firing at us!” I announce, just in case he hadn’t noticed.

        “Yeah thank you for the commentary Loki it’s not at all distracting!” he blurts, and flies us toward a high-arched tunnel through a hill of stone, statues flanking the entrance.  

     Our wing slices through the neck of one of Bor as we enter it. “Well done; you just decapitated your grandfather.” Out into sunlight and over the edge of a bright waterfall, and we’re still being shot at. I hate being shot at. I duck as an especially loud, bright shot flies at us, with another shout of “Ahhr!”

      If my revenge on that monster fails because my brother was enough of an idiot to mange to get us shot down by Odin’s guards—“You know, this is wonderful. This is a Tremendous Idea.” He looks at me, probably wondering if I’m sincere, and I am overwhelmed by chagrin and the need to pace.  “Let’s steal the biggest, most obvious ship in the universe, and escape in that!  Flying around the city, smashing into everything in sight, so everyone can see us, it’s brilliant, Thor! It’s truly brilliant!”

     His fist hits me in the chest, and I’m flying out of the side of the ship, air rushing about me and a shout rushing out of me--And Thor, caring as little as he would for any other Jotun monster, heaves me up, holds me by the throat, and does not even look at my face when he tosses me into the abyss—That never happened. I twist in the air, gasping, and see a small boat flying low above the water moments before I land hard in it, crouched, wrenching at my bonds as I try to spread my hands for a better landing. Thor lands on his feet beside me, carrying Jane, as Fandral chuckles. “I see your time in the dungeons has made you no less graceful, Loki!”

     I wonder when he’ll notice that we are not friends. We’re flying past a bridge; I look up and before us and see the Dark Elf ship still being fired at by the Asgardian war boats.  Thor is gently settling Jane into cushions; she is insensible, long dark lashes on white cheeks. “You lied to me,” I tell him softly. I tilt my head. “I’m impressed.”

     “I’m glad you’re pleased,” Thor says blandly. “Now do as you promised. Take us to your secret pathway.”

     I grin as I find the steering gear, a thing like a rapier hilt, my heart still pounding in my throat from the falling and the false memory, the water a blur under us and ahead. I touch the curved metal lightly, the red light of the boat’s power glowing on my hand, and then grip it firmly and fly ahead, faster and faster and low, spray flying up into the back-speeding air as our hull brushes the water, faster and faster even as I curve across the lake. The air whisks past my ears and into my eyes. I could do anything now, dive us into the blue water, flip the boat, turn and speed at our enemies like a blast of magic—ah, we have a twin, firing at us. I swerve, lifting up into the air away from the lake frothing from fired force.

     “Fandral,” Thor says, and he replies, “Right,” and leaps overboard with a rope and a declaration of “For Asgard!” to stop the shots that hound us.

     Clashing, silence, no sound but the wind and the lake below us, soon striking at dark rocks. Mountains surround us and we pass them—and there’s the mountain I seek, and I fly at its dark side as though I desire nothing more than our wrecking.

     “Lo-ki!” Thor admonishes.

     I stare at the passage in the mountainside, concentrating, thinking of the wings on my boat, of how narrow the passage was when I climbed through it on foot into a dark realm. “If it were easy…everyone would do it.”

     “Are you mad?” Thor demands as the passage comes closer and closer, scarcely a hair wider than our ship, stone surrounded.

     “Possibly!” I say joyfully, my breath coming like the wind around us, all my mind bent upon that rocky, sideways mouth—and the sides are around us and we bang and skid against them, sparks and light of the passage’s magic flying around and after and over us until there is nothing but pure white light.

     It blazes out behind us as we dart out under a darkly clouded golden sky, sparks falling onto the barren ground or flying up bright against mountains. We strike the ground and I steer us up again, the last sparks dropping, my heart hammering—“Ta-da!”

      I hear Thor let out his breath, and with the sound and the sparks my verve vanishes, and every dark Elvish ruin ahead of us might as well be filled with a dark memory or thought that wishes to drag me to its lair. Quietly, I fly towards them, under a dim sun.

     I sit down as I steer, suddenly tired, and watch Thor cover Jane with a blanket that shines even in this dull light. He gently strokes her brown hair, with love so visible that I lose any thought of this romance being mere admiration of her beauty.

     I sigh, the exhaustion that made me lie in bed for days trying to take me even as I steer. “What I could do with the power, that flow through those veins.”

     Thor looks at me, unhappily. “It would…consume you.” He’s worried about her, and well he should be; she’s being assaulted by a stone of power that never should have been in a mortal.

     Yet I think he need not fear for her life for many hours yet. Nor should he assume that I would be as weak as a mortal, merely because I am not of Asgardian blood. “She’s holding up all right. For now….”

      But what comfort is that? She’s a spring flower, a mortal—she’ll be old in a season, dead before he realizes she’s old. “She’s strong in ways you’ll never even know,” he says.

      Mother was strong in every way ever known. I lean toward him. “Say goodbye.”

     “Not this day.” Quietly, quickly.

     As if such a decision could be made! “This day, the next, a hundred years, it’s nothing!” A thousand years—“It’s a heartbeat.” My tone grows harsh, my meaning shifting against my will. “You’ll never be ready. The only woman whose love you’ve prized will be snatched from you—“

     Thor is shaking his head, sad, angry. “And will that satisfy you?”

     Satisfy me? He thinks I rejoice in mortality, am glad that we are helpless against fate, hate him so that these are welcome so long as he writhes under them?  “Satisfaction’s not in my nature,” I tell him softly.

     “Surrender’s not in mine.” It never was. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve had to save your life so many times.

     I smile and look at him askance, whispering, “The son of Odin….”

     “No, not just of Odin. You think you alone were loved of Mother?” He looks up at me with moist eyes as I tense. “You had her tricks, but I had her trust!”

   “Trust?” I say quietly, taking a step closer to him. “Was that her last expression?” He looks so appalled that her last expression having perhaps been a scream of pain comes into my mind, and I demand, “Trust? When you let her die?”

     He moves toward me, my feelings on his face. “What help were you, in your cell?”

     So you acknowledge that she would never have died had I been free to die for her? “Who put me there?” I ask him softly, and then I roar the question: “Who put me there?”

     “You know **** well!” he shouts, slamming me back against the side of the ship, his hand at my throat. “You know **** well who!”

     He’ll cast me away if I don’t break free. I try, but he slams me back again, his fist rising, just like Father’s before him—and lowering, unlike his father’s before him. He grits his teeth. “She wouldn’t want us to fight.”

     I lower the hands I automatically raised to protect myself, the part of my anger that is for Thor leaving me. At least for now. “Well, she wouldn’t exactly be surprised,” I say softly, memories of her admonishments on our quarrels bringing both a smile and tears. Weariness makes me lean against the side of the boat.

       Thor silently laughs, smiling, the memories of when we were quarrelsome friends and brothers in his face. “I wish I could trust you.” He stares at me for a long moment, and cannot do it.

     My bound wrists ache so much that I grip one with the other hand, trying to ease it, as Thor turns and walks away from me. He shouldn’t trust me. But even I trust what rules me now. I straighten and step after him, against the wind, and whisper, “Trust my rage.”   

     For forever, long enough for me to master my emotions, his unanswering red-caped back is all the reply I get, but then his wide shoulders relax very slightly. “I have a plan,” he says briefly, and turns back toward me. “Can you make them think you’ve cut off my hand?”

     “I can,” I say as I return to steering (not that it takes much, to fly in a straight line), scarcely needing to consider his question. That would be a simple enough illusion; simple, too, to make it look as if my magic cauterized the wound, so that I need not conjure up streams of blood.

     “Good,” Thor says. “I need you to do that, after pretending to attack me. Somewhere where Malekith can see. Say that you are going to give the Aether to Malekith, and present Jane to him.”

     I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to lower my brows again. “And?”

     “He’ll draw the Aether from her, you’ll restore my hand, and I’ll obliterate it with Mjolnir. I’ll kill Malekith, and Kurse.” He expels the latter’s name with all the hatred that we share for it. “You’ll handle any Elves they have with them.”

     “Without a dagger? I hope you’ll at least remove the fetters, brother.”

     Thor sighs. “I have your dagger. The one you stabbed me with in Midgard.”

       “I’ll use it with more…conviction than I did that day,” I tell him quietly, and he takes a step closer to me, questions in his eyes. I turn away to steer us around yet another dark vessel, grounded in Bor’s battle here, and he does not ask them. 

     No signs of Malekith’s ship yet on the horizon. It’s hard to see far in much a dark realm.

     “She did not suffer long,” Thor says quietly. “Kurse—“ His voice breaks. “Kurse stabbed her in the back with his sword. Her heart. I was there the moment after, and she was dead already. She never cried out—“ Silence. My hands are trembling on the steering, all of it too clear, too visible, more vivid to see than the desolation about us, now empty even of grounded ships—the sharp sword, Mother falling, crumpling, pain on her face and then nothing—she’ll have sailed to Valhalla now, in flames and honor, gone forever. The dark light blurs.

     “It was only a moment after,” Thor says hoarsely, behind me, and I turn to see him standing with his head bent, gripping Mjolnir so his knuckles are white.

     We won’t crash if I cease steering here. I walk toward him and hesitate, and then put my hand on his shoulder—hands, rather, an awkward, fettered attempt to comfort him. He looks up, surprised, tears on his face, and I prepare myself to become undesirably close to the wall of the boat again, leaning away slightly as his fist comes toward me—but it opens, and grips my shoulder in return.

[softupshur]

Imperfect Faith: Chapter 2

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When her mother is arrested on Lydia Degan’s ranch, a young Marta finds herself amidst the Testament of New Ezekiel in its infancy. As she travels with the other escapees, she watches the church grow, the gospel teachings evolve, and create a close bond with the reverend Sullivan Knoth.

Characters: Marta and Sullivan Knoth

Chapter 2-September 22, 1968:

Sunlight streamed through the windows and awoke Marta. Its brightness was enough to make her squint. She rolled over, hoping to block out the sun and sleep a little longer, when she felt a coat draped over her as if it were a blanket.

She sat up and observed the garment, and recognized it as the coat Knoth wore the night of their escape. Though she ached from the less than ideal sleeping conditions, and forced herself to stand up and look around the bus for Knoth, but he was nowhere to be found.

Not even half of the people from the escape were on the bus. Mostly a few that tried to sleep longer, but Marta did see a few of the women relaxing on the bus, including the one with the infant that spoke on Marta’s behalf the night before.

The woman held her little one, cooing and humming to the baby, and gave off an air of warmth about her, and she was the one that Marta went to.

“Good morning,” she said, with a sweet smile, when Marta approached. “It’s Marta, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No need for ma’am,” she said. “There’s no need for formalities when we are all of the same flock. Please, call me Jasmine.”

Marta nodded.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Jasmine asked of Marta’s silence.

“Yes. I was wondering if you knew where Father Knoth is. I want to give him back his coat.”

“Oh, he went out with the others to get our bearings and supplies for the road ahead.”

“Where are we going?”

“Colorado. Knoth says we are going to spread the good word there now that the enemy has run us out of our homestead. ‘A blessing in disguise,’ he calls it.” Jasmine smiled slightly. “For more can be saved this way.”

Marta’s head hung low as she recalled her mother. “Yes, a blessing…”

She adjusted her hold on her child so she could reach out to put a hand on Marta’s arm. “I really am sorry about what happened to your mother. Rachel truly was a blessing to our testament, but you must remember that it is also a blessing that you were saved.”

Marta shifted slightly. “Yes, I know.”

“Just know that if you need anything, feel free to to come to any of us. I know this may seem frightening, but we are all here for one another through this trying time.” She shifted her hold so Marta could see her sleeping baby. “Me and Tristan would be happy to help in any way we can.”

Marta managed a smile for the baby. “Mother helped deliver him.”

“Yes, and he is my greatest joy. One I would have never known if not for joining the testament.”

At first, Marta opened her mouth to inquire on the father. Instead, she said, “I’m going to look for Father Knoth now.” She bowed her head slightly. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Jasmine.”

"It was nice to meet you too, Marta. Enjoy the fresh air while you can. It may be our last stop for a while.”

Marta nodded, and then left the bus, finding herself on a roadside stop. The vehicle was parked at the gas station, and she recognized many of the church members, strolling and chatting amongst themselves, and a few even taking advantage of the diner, but Marta went to a group of the testament’s men, gathered around a radio.

She made her way over to them, but there was only static, as one of the men adjusted the antenna.

“What are you trying to listen to?” Marta asked them.

“News from back on the Degan ranch,” grumbled the man with the antenna. The same man who helped people on the bus that night.

“No reception here though,” said another.

Still, Marta stayed on. She leaned in to listen for news of her mother, when her stomach growled.

One of the men heard, and held out a stick of jerky for her. “Want one?”

“Thank you,” Marta said, quietly, as she accepted the offer and took a bite, as she waited for a signal with the other men.

After several minutes of adjustment, the man finally caught a signal just strong enough to hear.

The group all hushed and huddled around the radio.

At first, everyone suffered through weather and traffic reports, but a few more minutes came the breaking news from the ranch.

"Though a dozen arrests have been made, there are still no leads as to the bodies found on the Degan Ranch. Police suspect foul play, but Knoth and his followers are still at large."

There were other snippets of information, but the static returned, and this time, no one bothered with the antenna.

“You really think going to Colorado will be enough?” one of the men asked.

“Knoth seems to think getting out of the state will help us out. Besides, we’re not in any real trouble if they don’t have any solid evidence on him.”

“Yeah, it’s all just suspicion right now, isn’t it?”

“Definitely. It’s probably just a slow news week. Trying to get the people with shock value.”

The others murmured in agreement, but Marta only shuddered.

“Do any of you know where Father Knoth is?” she blurted out. When the men stared, as if surprised to find her still there, she added in, “I want to give him his coat back.”

“He’s in the store getting supplies,” one of the men grunted.

"Thank you.” Marta started on her way, when the same man continued.

“Hey, kid. Just a warning that you might not want to use his name in there. Just to be safe.”

Marta nodded. “I won’t.”

As the men picked their conversation back up, Marta hurried into the store, where she easily found Knoth and one of his deacons conversing with the store manager. Both of them carried full bags in their arms.

Marta stood to the side, and waited until the men finished talking. She prepared to call out for Father Knoth, but her throat ran dry as the man’s warning echoed in her mind.

Instead, Knoth spoke first when he noticed her.

“Good morning, Marta. It’s good to see you out and about.”

“I came to give you your coat back.” Marta held out the garment, but was unable to look him in the eye. She hoped a quick addition of a “thank you,” would ease any suspicion.

Though Knoth raised an eyebrow, he still answered kindly. “It’s no trouble, child. The desert nights can get cold and you were shivering in your sleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence lingered between them, until Knoth voiced his concern. “Is there something troubling you?”

Marta shook her head. “I’m just tired and sore from the trip.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but Marta’s stomach still tied itself in knots.

“Well if that’s all, then I’m sure a stroll will help. If you give me a moment to load the bus, I’ll join you.” He didn’t wait for her response before he joined the men in organizing their provisions.

Marta only sat on the curb and waited. She tried to enjoy the jerky, but it lost its taste. She had thrown it away by the time Knoth returned.

“Why so glum, child?” Knoth asked of her.

Marta shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“Well, let’s just walk a little, okay?” His voice softened considerably.

“Okay…” Marta stood up and walked alongside Knoth, but with each step her feet felt heavier and her stomach continued to churn.

It wasn’t long until Knoth stopped, noticing the sweat on her forehead. “Marta?”

“I need to use the restroom.”

She turned to run to the convenience store, but tripped and fell to her knees. The sand and gravel dug into her skin, but she could only think of her nausea. She waited to vomit, but only tears came.

“I-I’m sorry, Father. I...I just.” She took as deep a breath as she could manage. Only when she felt Knoth’s hand on her shoulder did she find the words. “I thought I was okay, but I can’t stop thinking about mother, the ranch, the radio, the-”

“The radio?” Knoth asked before she could finish.

“Uh-huh. Some of the men were listening to it, and they found bodies there.” She looked up at Knoth, with tear filled eyes. “They’re looking for us, aren’t they?”

“Oh, child,” Knoth shook his head. “Don’t tell me it’s the lies from the outside that have worried you.”

Marta only cried harder.

“It’s okay,” Knoth’s voice lacked its usual certainty. “I’m glad you told me. Fear is natural, but I assure you that it is not the outside world that you need to fear.”

“It’s not?” Marta choked out.

“No. The world outside of our testament may seem frightening. For they can prosecute us, drive us away, and even take our mortal lives, but none of that matters when compared to the promise of paradise everlasting.”

“I...I know all that, but...if not the outside world then what should I fear? Because I am scared.”

“The very same Lord who gives us our blessings,” Knoth’s voice sank as he spoke. “Everything he promises, he has the power to take away. That’s why we must do everything in our power to follow his will and spread his word.”

Marta wiped the tears from her eyes, “Do you think that’s why Mother and the others were arrested? Because we didn’t follow his will well enough?”

Knoth sighed. “I think it was for our greed that God punished us. We were too comfortable on the Degan Ranch and we forgot our gratitude. I believe these trying times are to remind us to humble our hearts and remember where to give the glory to.”

“Did God tell you that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re God’s prophet. That means he speaks to you, right?”

Knoth frowned. “He does, but only when he wishes to, and if I’m being honest, it’s a burden that I would wish on no one else.”

“Why not?”

“Because God does not always come with good news. Sometimes he forces you to look deep inside yourself into a darkness that you didn’t know was real. It’s something unnatural that no ordinary man could live with. For they have twisted the Lord’s word beyond recognition. Even among our testament, we have only scratched the surface. That’s why we must continue the road ahead, as frightening as it may be.” Knoth stood and held out a hand for Marta. “So hold strong, my child. You’ve shown great courage and strength already, so look inside yourself and find that courage again. It will give you strength for the long road ahead.”

Marta took Knoth’s hand so he could help her up. It was then that they both realize her knees were bleeding.

“Let’s go back to the bus,” Knoth said. “We should have some bandages there for you.”

As they walked, Knoth kept hold of her hand.

Marta had never seen his expression so sullen.