#part 29

[aintinacage]

You ruined the time heist.

William Shakespeare’s Avengers (Part 29/?)

[ms-tillus]

Twilight summary part 29(? I think?)

[hazbin-luciferalastor]

[stardancerluv]

A Time to Love and to Fight

Part 29

Summary: New developments for Enjolras and his girl.

Notes/Warning: 18 & Over! Male receiving consensual handjob. The death of some rats. Mentions of violence.

My sweet angel - mon doux ange, Angel - Ange

❤️, reblogs, comments…feedback…messages are always welcome! And thank you!

You inhaled deeply, the fresh flowers brought a sweetness to the air that reminded you of walking or sitting in the park. It made you miss such days. You sat up against the plush pillows and gave Enjolras a look, eyebrow raises.

“This is a lovely room, truly it is.”

The shades of pink and cream were like something out of a dream. Enjolras, wanted you to have that. The bed gave as he came to sit beside you. “It really came together.”

It had been hard for him to acquire so many things. He had never been one to enjoy excessive spending. Though he knew it was expected of him to appear a man of means. However, making a home with you, and knowing you were with child; it grew easier. You missed being with him and picking out treasures.

“But, but I miss coming out with you. I miss doing things.”

He placed a hand over yours. “But look what has been happening.”

“I only fainted once.”

“Once is too many.”

You could see his jaw tighten.

“And now you are carrying our child.”

“I’ll be careful.”

He glanced around. He spoke just above a whisper. You knew he didn’t necessarily trust the staff.

“England doesn’t sit well with me, my love.”

“I’ll be with you. We, we could go to a market or perhaps a dress maker.” Your gave him a soft look. “They can’t be dangerous.”

“I’ll think about.”

He reached over to the nightstand, he grabbed the book you both loved. He handed it to you.

“Read and travel among the stars with this.”

He paused, a smile appeared on his lips.

“I have secured more candles. You do not have to only read by the light of the sun.”

You didn’t care you, you hugged him then. He shifted in your embrace to put the book down beside the two of you. His arms wrapped around you. You sighed laying your head on his shoulder.

*********

He drank a little more and played cards with a riskier flair.

Before arriving at the pub that night, he finally sent off a letter to his mother. He had pressed the envelop to his lips and then heart before bidding it a safe journey to his mother’s hands. With a twirl of the feather he wrote reams of how the house was coming along and how she was to be a grandmother in the coming months. He did not dare telling her of your lightheadedness or even the fainting spell. No darkness would be out on paper, only happiness and joy.

Now that you were tucked away in the house, in that beautiful room. He felt like he could relax. Now, you be comfortable and grow into your role as mother.

Coins jangled on the wooden table, paper notes of value were shuffled about and ale on occasion spilled along the side of the tankards. Some tightened while others loosened their hold on the cards would deliver a victory or a loss.

Once the moon was high enough in the sky, and his head was filled with the pleasant fuzzy warmth his ale gave him, he returned home. He’d shed his boots and coat and pull you close. He’d be lying if he didn’t miss your quick with or a peal of your laughter while sitting in that pub. The few moments, he had shared you with the company of Courfeyrac or Grantaire he missed it.

Pressing his lips together, he made it back rather easily to where he now resided with you. Not sure if he should be pleased or not, he was able to remain in cloaked darkness of the shadows and managed to make it very easily back up to the lovely bedroom, he made for the two of you.

The door creaked ever so as he opened it, it made him wince and he slipped in and soon moved fast so he could close it as soon as he opened it. Not going far, he soon let his heavy coat fall from him. He loosened some of the buttons on his shirt before leaning against the wall and gritting his teeth he pulled one and the other boot free of his person.

A soft sound floated over to him, where the candles burned low. Glancing in its direction he could just make out as he saw you moving.

“Love? You’ve returned.”

He smiled, making quick strides over to you. “It is I my ange, I have arrived.”

You rubbed in eye and smiled, pulled the blanket aside. “Then I welcome you home my love. I have missed you.”

His heart picked up speed, he knew the curves and beauty that was barely cover by the chemise you wore. Easily, he crawled in, then sitting up and he urged you to curl up to his side.

You looked up at him, your nose gently wrinkled. “Oh? I can smell the ale.”

“In my excitement of winning some hands, I did spill some.” He rose his eyebrows. “Do you forgive me?”

You smiled. “I do.”

His lips curled into a broad smile as he felt your lips just barley grazing a spot on his face where he tamed the growth there.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb caressed you. “You are so lovely.” He whispered. His heart warmed a she could actually feel as you flushed.

“I am glad you still think so.”

He paused, the fuzzy warmth still there but your words stuck him. “I always will.”

“Even when my belly grows with our child?”

“Yes, especially.”

He pulled you closer and finding your mouth, he kissed you then. It had felt like a lifetime. At first, you were hesitant but then he felt as your responded. He held you closer. Your warmth and softness was exactly what he had needed.

As he held you closer, and your hand drifted over him as you moved closer, a groan of deep rooted pleasure bubbled from him breaking the kiss. His stomach had tightened. His pleasure of having you so close had quickened his heartbeat.

“Oh? My love are you well? I have not injured you. Have I ?”

“No.” He chewed on his cheek. “But I have not eyed, your chemise as closely. It has quickened my heart for you.”

“Oh? Is that so bad? I am your wife. I miss being one with you.”

The dip in your voice stung.

“Angel, don’t despair.” He bent his head, pressing some soft kisses where you allowed. “Since you are with child we have to be careful.”

You sighed. Your breath warm and soft, distantly he smiled. It was obvious you had some tarts while he was out. Its sweetness lingered on you. “You would be.”

“I could only hope. But what if I hurt you or them, I would never forgive myself. “ He paused, in the muted light he relished the sight of your beauty. “Though I have an idea. And we can still be intimate.” He assured you.

“Oh tell me.”

“Nestle, closer my love.” He urged you. He had remembered how you had enjoyed touching him that one day. “Do you remember, the day you touched me?”

“Yes.”

“I would like you to do that again.”

“Oh can I?”

“Yes, mon doux ange you can. I will help you.”

Shuffling, he managed to open the buttons of his trousers and then move his shirt. He glanced down at you. “Love, I will take myself out and I will let you touch me. I can guide you.”

“Please. You will have to, I will not want to hurt you.”

He smiled, relief filling him as he heard how breathless you had become. He knew this was making your heart beat harder just like his own heart. Easing himself out of his trousers, he sighed and soft moan broke his lips.

“Oh, you are still magnificent.” You whispered.

Your words making his heart squeeze.

“Thank you, love. May I take your hand now?“

“Yes.”

Gently, he took your hand. He help you wrap your fingers around him. His entire being tightened. It felt unbelievable.

“Are you ok?” Your hand twisting on him as you looked back at him.

He coughed. “Yes. That, your hand feels amazing.”

“Oh, good.”

The gently he began guiding your hand. It almost made him come undone right then there.

“Your hand feels so good.” He whispered.

Trembles coursed through him and he bit the inside of his cheek. He would no let go just yet. This was entirely new way of you making him feeling so good.

“Just like that angel.” He encouraged.

He wrapped his hand around yours once again. We will do this a little firmer. He felt like this was a pleasurable torture. Also however in the shadows, watching your hand as it up and down. Was almost too much. His sweet angel.

“Oh, my angel that feels so good.”

He was so close to coming undone. His stomach continued to twist into pleasurable knots. He shook.

“I’m…I’m….oooh angel!” He called out. And soon, he expelled his seed.

“Ooh!” You rubbed a little harder, and he reached out and stopped you.

“That’s it my love. You have made me undone.”

He panted and melted back into the pillows. He licked his lips.

You hand held him gently. “Did I help you to feel good?”

He blinked. “Yes, love that was amazing.”

That’s when it dawned on him, he reached into his pocket and took out a cloth. “I wasn’t thinking. I am sorry.” He gently took your hand and cleaned off his essence.

Gently, he tucked himself away. “Angel, thank you for making me feel so good.” He was still breathless. He ran his fingers along your cheek. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

“Can you?”

His stomach once again tightened with pleasure.

“Yes, I can.”

*******

He crouched in the shadows. He longed for a real meal. Once in London, he would. There he grab some salted and dry meats for the journey to the new world.

He was tired of the sorry excuse for the stew the cook had been making the last few days. He ignored the burning or the cramping of staying there in the shadows, waiting on another rat. He had already managed to catch four of the seven that came into the corridor.

******

He banged on the kitchen door. The chef looked him up and down. “What?”

He held up six dead rats. “Add their meat to the stew.”

The man grumbled. “If you grow ill, it is your fault.”

The man shrugged and walked away. This would hunt more tomorrow. Now he’d have strength again. He had to keep it up, he was going to find the man who killed his son.

@henry-cavs-tudor @corrodedcoffn @dealswiththedevilsblog @randomstory56 @pl1nfa1 @phantomxoxo @ladybug0095 @the-iridescent-phoenix @maryan028 @kindablackenedsuperhero @amethyst-serenade @moondev1l @samunson83 @julieteagk @little-wormwood @wafflepixie @shadyhamiltonfanatic @gretavankleep37 @peacefroggg23 @capailluiscedove @poisonedeuphoria

[locitapurplepink]

Taglist : @photogirl894 , @leosardonyx18 , @commander-tech , @aintinacage , @trapezequeen , @cassie-fanfics , @zaya-mo , @genericficerblog , @laughingphoenixleader , @kanerallels , @ambulance-mom , @fulltimecatwitch and anyone else who wants to vote this one.

[ejzah]

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 29

***

Caleb agreed to see Monica a couple more times over the next week, though he kept himself slightly distanced for most of her visits and usually insisted that Deeks accompany them everywhere. As much as Deeks debated if letting her back into their lives was a sound decision, he was glad that Caleb still trusted him so deeply.

When asked how long she planned to stay, Monica gave an ambiguous response about wanting to get acquainted with the city. Deeks didn’t love the vague parameters, but he supposed it was a pleasant surprise that she’d kept her word and hadn’t skipped out without a word. Yet.

Sighing, Deeks checked his reflection in his bedroom mirror, straightening the collar of his shirt one more time. It absolutely refused to stay flat though. Sometimes he really did hate wearing suits.

“Hey kiddo, you about finished in the bathroom?” he called out, listening for a response. “Caleb?”

A moment later, Caleb raced into the, curls flying in every direction, and barreled into Deeks’ legs.

“Oh thank god. I thought you might have fallen in.”

“Daaaad!” Caleb protested, throwing his head back as he clung to Deeks.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Let me get my backpack.” He ran out again, meeting Deeks by the front door with his backpack on and a superhero in one hand.

Once they were waiting in the car rider line, Caleb unbuckled his seatbelt, and climbed into the front seat like usual. Up ahead, they could see Kensi letting students out of their cars and directing them to the entrance.

“Dad, is Kensi coming over to tonight?” Caleb asked, pressing his face close to the passenger window.

“Uh maybe, we’ll have to see. It’s been a little crazy,” Deeks answered.

Caleb seemed to mull that over, then turned, his lip jutting put.

“Don’t you want to see her?”

Deeks’ heartbroken at that, and he immediately reached out to ruffle his hair.

“Of course I do. I like spending time with Kensi almost as much as you do.”

“It’s because of mommy, isn’t it?”

Deeks sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he turned to briefly stare out his own window. It was true Monica’s presence had thrown a slight wrench in his and Kensi’s relationship. Unless Monica stayed more permanently, a thought that had kept him up several nights, he didn’t want to put Kensi through the drama that meeting Monica would inevitably bring.

Caleb didn’t need to know any of that though. He was having enough trouble dealing with his mom’s presence without throwing in additional grown up problems into the mix.

Glancing back at Caleb, he offered him a half-smile.

“Kensi’s been pretty busy with the end of the year coming up and we’ve been busy, so there just hasn’t been the time. How about I ask if she can come on Saturday?” he offered. “Does that sound good?”

Caleb’s face brightened with a toothy smile, and he nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that would be great. And maybe you can cook lasagna again cause last time Kensi really liked it.”

“Sounds like a plan, buddy.”

***

Although Deeks insisted that he was doing better, Kensi could tell that he was strained. His texts were a little more clipped, his humor slightly forced, and when she saw him during drop offs, he seemed harried. She very purposely reminded herself not of it had anything to do with her.

Like father like son, Caleb continued to be less than his cheerful and outgoing self. From the few tidbits he dropped, Monica had come for dinner several times. He’d confided, after swearing her to absolute secrecy, that Deeks was not happy.

With that in mind, she grabbed a couple of coffees and pastries after work, heading for Deeks’ house. She figured Deeks needed the pick-me-up, and to be perfectly honest, she didn’t feel like waiting to see him until Saturday.

The sound of music with a heavy beat that didn’t sound like Deeks’ usual taste emanated from the house as she reached the front door. She pressed the doorbell three or four times before the music turned off abruptly and the door swung open, revealing a dark-haired woman in denim shorts and a t-shirt

Kensi’s eyes widened for a few seconds before she caught herself.

“Well hello, you must be Kensi,” the woman greeted her, giving her a very obvious and thorough once over.

“And you must be Monica,” Kensi tossed back.

“I can see why Marty likes you. Come on in,” Monica offered.

That sounded like the very last thing Kensi wanted to do, but somehow she felt Monica was challenging her. So, she followed Monica in, pushing down the vague jealousy that threatened to creep in at her comfort in Deeks’ home.

“Actually, I was just dropping these off for Deeks. Is he around?” Kensi held up the coffees and bag of pastries.

“He took Caleb to pick up dinner.” Leaning closer, Monica dropped her voice to an almost flirty whisper. “I wouldn’t mind a coffee though. Then we could chat.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Kensi said. Just off a few moments, Kensi knew she didn’t want to spend anymore time in Monica’s company that necessary.

“Ooh, are you intimidated by me, Kensi? Maybe jealous?” Monica taunted, chuckling.

Biting back any response that would give Monica satisfaction, Kensi shrugged. “Fine.” She wordlessly walked into the living room and set the coffee and food down. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s start with how you and Marty met.”

“No. I’m not discussing our relationship with you,” Kensi told her firmly, crossing her arms.

“Ooh, that hit a nerve. That’s ok. I already know you’re a teacher, you’ve been dating for a few months, and Marty is hopelessly head over heels for you,” Monica listed off, slowly pacing around the room like some kind of caged animal waiting to pounce.

“Who told you that?” She was fairly certain Deeks would never share so much.

“Mostly Caleb.” Running her fingertip along the top of a picture frame, she paused for several seconds. “It was pretty easy to get him talking about you. Then I might have scene a picture or two and some texts on Marty’s phone.” Monica nodded appreciatively. “Kudos on moving in on the hot dad. I bet the other teachers are so jealous.”

“So you pumped your own son for information and violated your ex-husband’s privacy. You really have no shame, do you?” Kensi said, fury making her voice shake.

“Well, how else am I supposed to make sure that you’re going to take good care of Marty,” Monica said reasonably, which only made Kensi that much angrier.

Kensi inhaled deeply to calm the sudden, intense urge to punch the woman in front of her.

“Since you pretty much abandoned Deeks and Caleb, I don’t really think you’re the best judge of character.

Instead of showing any sign of remorse or pain at Kensi’s blunt retort, Monica just tilted her head, regarding her seriously.

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Monica gestures to herself, moving to stand closer to Kensi again. For the first time, she’d dropped the flirty, biting persona, and seemed to fully believe what she was saying. “I know what Marty and my—Caleb deserve. I knew I wasn’t good enough, which is why I left. But damn if I’m gonna let someone else hurt him like I did. He deserves to be happy.”

Kensi stayed silent for several moments, then tipped her chin up, facing Monica just as seriously. “He is happy.” She nodded to the table. “Enjoy the coffee and the rest of your visit, Monica.”

Then she walked out of the room, and the front door. It wasn’t until she was in the her car that she let her head fall back. It felt as though she’d just been through a brutal boxing match, and she wasn’t sure who had won.

***

A/N: Monica continues to be the worse. Even if she thinks she has noble intentions.

[shadow0haven]

Look at himmmmmm, I'm sorry I'm head over heels for Arthur oops, of course I had to experiment with him

(ID below cut!)

[ID: A sketch page of Arthur Lester, a light skinned man with a birthmark under his right eyebrow, freckles all over his face, with blue eyes that have a gold sheen over the pupils. He has Russet brown hair with gray stress in it near his ears. In the first sketch he has a pencil mustache as if listening to John describe his new look, contemplating it with a small speech bubble with "Mmmm..." in it.

The second sketch to the right is the same but with a thicker scruff mustache.

Third sketch is of a chibi Arthur facing a mirror and sink basin, Johns hand holding onto the basin. He looks annoyed and is puffing out his cheeks. John is a black smokey figure with gold eyes and gold streaks on him over Arthur's shoulder, talking to him. An arrow points to Arthur that says "unsure if he likes it" about his new mustache.

A sketch to the left of that is another chibi of Arthur looking extremely tired, his eyes closed and looking exasperated, wearing an overcoat and a hat that are matching browns. A speech bubble is next to him with Arthur saying "A nap would be nice".

There is an artist signature in the middle and at the bottom left of the piece with the date of "01 24 2023". /End ID]

[im-the-queen-of-stardust]

So after that bleak prelude promising Arthur a dark and painful fate we are now entering comedy territory. Loving it. Arthur and John were a comedy duo waiting to happen and now it's finally arrived.

[eldritchqueerture]

oh. oh he named himself will henley after the. after the author of the poem............

i am the master of my fate, i am the captain of my soul

[thingsforall-theboys]

[aintinacage]

endless will turner - part 29

[capnlinnius]

this part has started out so wonderfully, i am 100% ready for everything to go south

[writtenwyrm]

The Ascension

A Slay the Spire Story, Part 29

All Parts

Was this it?

The end of my journey, after all this time?

I was stopped in a tunnel, another of the endless winding paths that sometimes opened into something larger and sometimes dropped into an endless void. It looked no different than any other tunnel I’d been in. But it felt different.

I could sense it. An ever present , thumping force, coming from directly overhead. It made my whole being tremble with disgust, for I could feel the darkness in it. It was the purest of evil, whatever it was, wrong.

More than even that, I could feel it’s complete and utter hatred for me.

It wasn’t far. This was the first time I could feel it directly, which meant I was close.

I reached into my soul to touch the Spark for added strength.

Lucirron was there, wrapped around my heart like a snake around a rat.

You’re not there yet. He whispered. There remain trials ahead. There will always be trials. The world seeks to harm you. And yet you refuse to fight back.

I ignored his words, drawing strength from the blood of my ancestors. The fury of generations was there, but it was dormant, tamed. It had been a long time since I’d felt that burning hatred for everything and everyone. It had lasted longest towards the devil in my heart, but even that had cooled eventually.

Instead I exited the tunnel, moving toward the dark pulsing.

The room I found myself in made my eyes hurt just to look at it. There was a door in the far wall, and it seemed to be only a few feet away. But when I stepped forward, it stretched back into the distance, as if it was actually a soaring archway seen from far away. The ceiling seemed somehow both cramped, my instincts telling me to crouch to avoid banging my head. But reaching up to touch it revealed it to be a distant illusion.

This truly was a place made from nightmares. My instincts warned me that such a living section of the Beyond often contained something inside it.

So I wasn’t surprised when I turned around to find the tunnel I had exited from hundreds of feet away. Standing between me and escape was a creature, if you could even call it that.

It towered over me, flat cuboid faces somehow all simultaneously growing outward in all directions. It seemed both ten feet tall and a hundred, depending on how I looked at it.

Something shifted behind it, stepping around on short, stumpy legs. Another monstrous creature, shaped like a ring. Its smooth surface was swirling as well, every bit curling in on itself and collapsing into the hole in its center, despite how impossible it seemed.

Deku and Donu. The guardians of the Peak, the oldest and also the youngest of the Ancients, the Twin Gods of Space. Lucirron had warned me about them. They would attempt to bar my passage.

Backing up, I plucked the small bag off my waist, and emptied it onto the ground between us. Marbles, small and colorful, seemingly countless, poured out in a wave. I still felt a twinge of sadness for the magical toy getting used for battle, but it was too useful to refrain.

My opponents adapted quickly, however. They slammed their stump-like feet into the ground with additional force, crushing the marbles rather than slipping on them. Not unexpected, as the Spire constructs always seemed to take extra effort to throw off-balance. I would just have to overwhelm them.

But first, it was time to place my bet.

I spoke the Oath. The one I’d stolen from him, the Word I’d discovered had more than one use.

SACRIFICE

to give in excess

The Oath, once held over my head as a way to gain infinite strength, became something new in my soul. I sacrificed my energy within the moment, leaving myself drained and open, barely on my feet.

Before the remnants of the godlike power could leave my body, I snatched at the tail-end of it, borrowed its energy to fuel the dark embrace Lucirron had taught me at the beginning of my journey, speeding my mind in accordance with the weariness of my body.

Deku’s attack took me full in the chest while I was vulnerable. My armor saved my ribs from being entirely crushed, but it could do nothing to stop me from being hurled across the room. The far wall approached far quicker than it should have, the spacial warp of the room slapping me against the stone like a man slapping a fly from the sky.

I had to rip my limbs free of the rock one at a time, before falling twenty feet to the ground below. I landed on all fours, and remained there, sinking into a quick battle trance to decide the best next steps.

First things first was to deaden my screaming nerves, so I could focus. Then I borrowed another piece of Lucirron, pushing a demonic growl through my gritted teeth. It made my bones rattle just to speak it.

Normally, the horrible, intimidating sound, like a hundred bears snarling in unison, made enemies hesitate. But the approaching creatures didn’t pause in their step, perhaps correctly assessing that I was not the actual Ancient of Strength.

I had one more trick, however. Hands still on the ground, I reached for the memory of my hardest impact. Once, it had been the blast of the Automaton. Now, the memory of the incomprehensible transient creature exploding in my face was far stronger.

Gripping the memory, I pushed it down into the ground. There was a half-second where nothing happened.

Then the stone rippled, rocked in a shockwave of force. It moved in a wave, and finally the inhuman creatures stumbled.

Donu hit me next.

I wasn’t sure how it had traversed the room so quickly, though I suspected it had to do with more spacial twisting. The attack was weaker, knocked off balance from the shockwave, but it still slammed me face-first into the ground. If not for my mask, I would have been spitting chips of rock.

More, Lucirron. I commanded. He complied, filling my mind with new tactics, chuckling darkly as he took his reward for our burning pact, and I lost something in turn.

Another battle trance, in conjunction with Lucirron’s power, and I was brimming with ideas.

I discarded them all in favor of one.

I flexed, rising to my feet. With a roar, I tapped the Spark, exhausting it all at once. Everything, all my focus, became a tool of destruction.

In my satchel, the Akabeko, my ally and friend throughout this journey, lent me its power.

As my blood boiled, fiendfire burst from my flesh and struck the monster before me in a whirlwind of ash. Every spark that landed grew into a blaze in an instant, burning out in a final flash of destruction.

The flames licked my body, but I felt no pain. Instead, they coalesced and cooled, forming a crust of ash on my skin.

Donu fell.

A dozen holes burned through every part of its ring-shaped body. Through the torn holes I could see bones, shaped like ribs and a spine, but curling around the hole in its center in a nonsensical way. A moment later the holes filled with a black liquid, thicker than blood. The ichor pooled under its body, dripping almost like tar.

When Deku struck me next, I caught it’s blunt hands with my own.

The Oath was beginning to take effect.

For a moment, the creature seemed only barely taller than me. We stood and faced each other, or at least as close to a face as I could guess it had.

Then it broke away, and the illusion of size shifted. It was enormous, and it cycled its skin over its body in a way that dazed my mind.

I shrugged it off, and lifted my mask. My other weapon, the fangs hidden within my mouth, were revealed, and I attacked with a fervor.

Another stolen power. I’d taken the offer of the pallid creatures almost just to spite Lucirron. But it had proved useful, healing me even as I fought.

When I bit into Deku’s leg, my mouth filled with his dark ichor. It tasted like oil, rancid and clogged, but it healed me just the same.

His next double-strike pressed me back, but didn’t knock me down.

We faced each other once more. It cycled its flesh, and I raised my defenses.

That was when the real battle began.

We fought like monsters do, crashing into each other and attempting to tear pieces off of each other. Our battle was silent, aside from the cracking of stone and scraping of steel. Deku had no mouth, and I refused to give Lucirron the satisfaction of hearing me scream.

And throughout, the Oath began its task, building my defenses into an impenetrable barricade. My brief sacrifice paid off in the long term, soaking up endless hits from the hulking cube.

When it struck, I met it with my armor. Each time it was easier, and I entrenched myself further in my defensive fighting style every chance I got.

At the same time, Deku seemed to grow denser and denser, from flesh, to stone, to steel. It’s warping skin grew both outward and inward.

The battle went on for ages.

I don’t know how long it was. I don’t know when I became conscious of what was happening to me.

The stone. Shaped like melting bones, forming jagged stalagtites and uneven ribcages, was beginning to stick to me. It attached to my skin like paint at first, thin layers that crackled and flowed. Every time I crashed into a wall, I seemed to pick up more of it, until I my hands were thick and unrecognizable mitts of rock.

This place was a place of nightmares, and a place of gods. A place of ideas and concepts.

Slowly, slowly, it began to change me.

It took days. Maybe weeks, or months. I couldn’t tell, because every moment was spent wrestling with Deku, trying to gain the upper hand. The room itself grew and grew to contain us, expanding into an enormous, barren cavern.

I was untouchable. Entrenched in a hundred feet of solid rock, feeling the shattering blows of the creature outside, yet unable to pierce my new stony skin. I was truly invulnerable.

But so was Deku.

I attempted to strike out at him, but my blows were slow and ponderous, scraping uselessly against layers of god-flesh without ever drawing blood. I was the larger by now, towering even over its space-stretched form, but it was like attempting to crush a steel marble between my palms.

Useless. Lucirron whispered to me. You refused the power too often. Without the form of the Demon, you will fall by the wayside and be trodden underfoot.

In the end, I was unable to lose, yet I still couldn’t win.

In the end, it simply turned and left, and I was unable to lift my legs to follow.

I lay there, trapped within my own living armor. Breathing, only barely, preserved through the magic of true defense.

And always, always, even in my dreams, Lucirron’s mocking laugh rang endlessly in my ears.

[awesomexxasxxfuck]

[elinor-taylor]

July - Sept '93

Among the woodland shadows, nestled between powerful oaks and twisted yews, stood a small cottage, not unlike the one belonging to her friend, Dale, before it was reduced to cinders. It was quiet here, no birdsong or hum. Just the gentle snores of several dozen sleeping trolls.

Marie opened her father's journal and began to read.

***

On this day, July 9th, 1993

I have decided that in this volume and all those that follow, my entries shall relate only to my trips through the gate. From this point on, I think it best to separate the extraordinary from my other, everyday entries. It's becoming clear as the months pass that the two can not mix, despite what D might think. I suspect he would abandon this place in a heartbeat given the option.

He does seem rather enamoured with Marble Falls and the greater Yorkshire area. Each time he comes to watch me at the windows of one of the many churches and cathedrals I'm contracted to clean, he sits happily for hours on the guttering. It takes some convincing for me to get him to return home.

I have to admit he is good company, jolly little fellow that he is, and always in such good spirits, even if his never-ending questions do grate on my nerves on occasion. So I'm loathed to talk him out of it. It seems a fair trade that as I spend time in his homeland (albeit adopted), he should spend time in mine.

That said, were the council to find out how I'd been smuggling him through there'd be hell to pay!

***

On this day, July 31st, 1993

Marie has been asking about her forest friends again. I can tell she would greatly like to return to Diamond. She did, after all, have such a wonderful visit the last time. Unsurprising that the mind of a child sees only the best and not the worst of a place and its people. She needs it to be true, more so than I, I think.

By way of placating her, I took pictures on a small disposable camera left over from the birthday party she went to the other week, that of one of her playschool friends. The little girl, who was turning 6, is obviously blessed with a mother far more able to engage and organise than my dear Barbara. They put on quite the do.

I snapped a few shots of the village folk in Faretheewell proper, who were kind enough to pose despite thinking me quite mad. 'So we'll be inside this box?' Manny asked, incredulous at the notion of his image being transferred to little squares of paper.

I did my best to explain. Perhaps I shall take the pictures to show them when I get them developed. I know Dale especially would get a kick out of it.

I would've stayed longer but for the fact we were interrupted by odd noises coming from the southerly end of the forest, where the woods join the land that leads to the city. I was ushered back to the gate quick smart by the Harrows, who had just gotten through warning me of possible repercussions of the industrial developments in Must. And who I had just gotten through telling not to be so alarmist.

Right on cue, it began: a wailing noise. We were all disturbed by it. Connie Harrow, may her own god love her, looked as if all the blood had left her face and drained down into her boots.

I've decided it's probably a good idea to listen more closely to the residents from now on. I sometimes forget I am merely passing through Diamond and therefore have less claim on an opinion.

***

On this day, August 17th, 1993

If only I could tell Barbara about this place. I believe with all my heart that it would help her, that she would find comfort in the magical properties of who and what resides in these woods. I feel sure she could heal and recover here. Alas, I doubt I could find the words to encourage her out of her stupour in order to make the journey. Words are all I have, and even those fail me when it comes to her. Besides, there's a chill in the air I can not describe.

What to do?

***

On this day, August 21st, 1993

Another day in Faretheewell. I spent the afternoon helping Dale clear his path of debris left by the rioters. What a mess!

We swept and piled up a fair amount. But with each barrowful shifted, another ten seemed to appear. We joked that it was magic rubbish and that the fairy folk had cursed us to forever have to clear our paths, as they are forever cursed to clear the air of our mess. Wouldn't blame them, frankly. Karma's a bitch, as the saying goes.

Dale is giving thought to moving away from his cottage in the forest. I can see he's becoming twitchy following the latest round of protests. There's only so many times you can rebuild, so many times you can tell yourself it'll settle, before you have to take a long hard look at the situation and decide if this is the best place for you to be.

I told him I'd support him whatever he chooses to do and that his safety should be his priority. Faretheewell is delightful, but it isn't the most important thing. He can find another place if it comes down to it. And I would, of course, help him in any way I can.

For now, though, he's staying where he is. He knows the armies are building in strength. The North have influence and are doing their best to sway the will of the cunning but inherently non-violent woodland fae. And it's seems from the amount of crap we're having to clear that their tactics are working.

But he's staying. He says this is his home and he'll leave only when he chooses, or in a box.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

***

On this day, September 2nd, 1993

I spoke with a troll today. He told me his name was Johan. I shared with him the sandwiches I'd brought, and he was kind enough to share his interesting perspective on the cultural shift the people of Diamond have felt of late. I sat for the longest time listening to him speak. Trolls, I've come to realise, are the historians of Diamond and are the most fascinating of sorts.

Johan told me that this wasn't the first time such a shift had occurred, that this happens periodically. Cyclical, he said. I'm of a mind to believe him as he and the other trolls know things the rest of us can only imagine.

I stopped short of asking how it might end, and instead thanked him for his time before going on my way.

I wondered afterwards, if I had asked the question, would he have told me the truth even if the answer wasn’t in my favour? Either way - if he'd lied to save my feelings or given me the honest, unvarnished truth - I suspect he'd have done so with best intentions. He seemed that way inclined.

I hope to one day cross paths with him again, but I fear other forces are at play, and the people here are growing increasingly nervous. Better I don't draw attention to the kindly ones by seeking them out, or else risk them as well as myself.

***

On this day, September 24th, 1993

This place is changing. The last time I visited, I was welcomed with open arms and treated like one might treat a family member. But today, I entered the woods to the sound of cries. I followed the sound and discovered a young couple with their newborn, hiding in a ditch. 'Go back!' they said. 'We're not safe here anymore.'

Naturally, I was shaken by this. But still, I went on. I know the village and this part of the woods, and I know there is nothing to fear. These are the kindest, most welcoming folks I know. What could there possibly be to fear?

I would later come to discover that the young family I had just encountered had good reason for fleeing Faretheewell. I saw them again on my return, only this time they were in no position to talk, their mouths and ears stuffed as they were with moss and twigs, their eyes staring blindly at the sky. I pray that by stopping them on their way to talk I didn't in some way bring about this hideous end.

Even the baby.

That beautiful innocent baby.

I cannot bring my darling girl back here again. The image of her like that-

***

Marie closed the journal. She didn't want to read anymore.