#the three evil cs

[ouroboobos]

in only 20 beautiful minutes i have to stop listening to against me! and go to my customer service job and talk to my conservative christian cishet coworkers

[doomingthenarrative]

hiiii self-indulgent cs valentine’s as a treat<3

[wholoveseggs]

hi! ik youve done smth similar to this but i'd like to request like an enemy-to-lover elijahxreader with him just being an asshole. with eventual smut and teasing. ty!

The Gardener {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

The relationship between witches and vampires has always been fraught with complexity— a toxic mix of power and revenge. Raised to preserve nature’s balance, you’ve been taught that vampires are a perversion of life itself. You have a duty and a purpose, to eliminate all vampires. You're willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it, even if that means falling into bed with the enemy.

♡♡ Thanks for the request beautiful anon! This is a story I've wanted to tell for a while, I hope y'all enjoy it...♡♡

3.7k words - Warnings: no smut in this one, but lots of drama, angst, violence and deception... reader is a bit of a fanatic, witches, magic, murder && vervain...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

{Elijah Mikaelson Tag-List }

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

You wiped the sweat off your brow before picking up another bag of soil. Entering through the front gates of the compound, you dropped the bag next to the others and paused to catch your breath. You took a few more steps down the hall, entering a lavishly decorated courtyard. You had always been curious about what the compound looked like on the inside; you were not disappointed. Beautiful ivy laced up the old walls, spanning over arched balconies and expensive antique furniture was thoughtfully placed throughout. It was cozy, fantastical, and a little medieval; the only hint of modernity was string lights artfully hanging about.

It was easy to get swept up in the beauty of the place, so you had to remind yourself of all the evil the people that lived here had done. It was a sobering thought and you felt a surge of righteous anger. Your mind raced back to the countless people who had been hurt by these monsters. The innocent lives lost.

The ancestors had bestowed a glorious mission upon you and you were honored to be chosen. To take down one of the oldest and most powerful families of vampires was no small feat. It was not something you took lightly.

You returned to your task and carried on with your work. Gathering your tools from your car and retrieving the last bag of soil from the trunk. It was all very heavy, and the warm Louisiana weather was making you thirsty. You lugged the remaining supplies back inside the gate, dropping them down into a pile. Letting out a relieved sigh, you leaned against the wall and took a long sip from your water bottle, then another, then a third one to finally quench your thirst. You pooled a bit more of the water into your hands and splashed it on your warm face.

"Can I fetch you a wheelbarrow?" said a smooth voice from across the courtyard.

You spun around to find an amused looking gentleman, dressed in a three-piece suit. The infamous Elijah Mikaelson. He was not exactly what you had imagined, though it wasn't entirely surprising. A good predator hides behind a pleasing facade.

He was attractive, that was certain and he had the sort of charisma that could disarm you. He was smiling, his eyes dark and intense, like he could see right through to your skin and bones.

You put on your best smile, trying to be friendly and non-threatening. "Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you," you said breathlessly, wiping the water and sweat from your face.

He nodded and disappeared down the hall. You watched him go, admiring his handsome features as he left. You had a good feeling about this, he could be your way in.

You stepped further into the center of the courtyard, straining your neck trying to get a look at the opulent rooms beyond the second-floor balconies. What you were looking for was probably up there somewhere, just waiting for you to take it.

Elijah returned, pushing a large wheelbarrow before him.

"Thank you," you said, as he handed it off to you.

"It's nothing," he replied with a soft smile.

"Are you Klaus? I'm the one you hired to plant your garden," you replied politely, extending your hand. You needed to play the part of the naive gardener, clueless to who and what he was.

He chuckled, glancing at the bags of soil piled at the entrance. "No, I'm not Niklaus, but I did deduce what you were here for. My name is Elijah; Niklaus is my brother," he took your hand and shook it gently.

You knew exactly who he was, practically learning his name not long after you learned your own. He was the poised one, the liar, the deceiver. You had been taught to be wary of him, for his soft words and empty promises always led to death.

You didn't let any of this show, smiling back at him and saying, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elijah."

It was a simple performance, all you needed to do was maintain it, add a bit of sincerity to your mannerisms. You pretended to be flustered by his charm, reaching up and twiddling the piece of verbena you had braided into your hair.

"So do you two own this place? It's beautiful," you remarked, looking up once again at the stunning architecture. "The ivy is incredible."

"Thank you; it's been in our family for years. Would you like a tour of the place?" He said, his eyes on your twiddling hand. You immediately put your arm down.

"I would love to, but I promised your brother I would finish setting everything up before the end of the day," you replied, pointing to the pile of supplies.

"It's quite alright, I will help you."

"Oh no, it's okay, I can manage-"

"Please," he said, his brown eyes looking deeply into yours.

This almost felt too easy, a part of you was suspicious, but you couldn't deny the thrill of playing the game. If you could win the favor of a Mikaelson, it would certainly help your cause.

"Alright," you replied with a nod. "Could you show me to your greenhouse?"

"Of course, follow me," he replied, walking ahead.

You picked up your bag of fertilizer and began the task of wheeling the heavy materials across the courtyard. Elijah glanced back at you with a concerned look on his face.

"Let me," he offered.

"That's alright, I've got it," you said, pushing the wheelbarrow with a grunt.

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter further. He led the way towards the back of the estate, opening the doors for you. He had a way about him, a posture and stride of a man who had the confidence to do anything.

Because he wasn't a man, but a beast, and the world was his prey. You had to remind yourself not to be intimidated, even if it was difficult. You had trained for this, prepared yourself to face the most vile of creatures.

The greenhouse was large, with old, wooden tables full of tools and gardening supplies. The sunlight shone through the glass, illuminating the rows and rows of empty flower beds. You smiled, admiring the beauty of the space. It was the perfect place to create, to nurture life. The irony of it being located at the center of the den of death made you laugh.

Elijah gave you a curious look. "Is something funny?"

"It's nothing," you replied. "I'm just excited to get started. The weather is perfect."

He raised an eyebrow, looking a bit skeptical, his eyes traveling down your body, taking in your appearance. You looked a bit eccentric, with a pair of overalls covered in colorful patches and flowers braided into your hair. It was all a part of the persona, an act, and it worked. He relaxed his stance and gave you a smile, then he took the wheelbarrow from your hands and unloaded the soil with ease.

"You didn't have to do that. If you keep helping me like this, I might have to pay you and not the other way around," you joked, setting down your bag of tools on the workbench across from the door.

He smiled, taking a step back and raising his hands playfully in mock surrender. He leaned against the door frame, surveying you as you unpacked your things. "How long have you been a gardener?" He asked.

"I've been doing this professionally since I was eighteen, but I've loved it my whole life," you replied honestly, setting the seeds you had brought with you on the table. "I own a shop not far from here."

He nodded, glancing at the bags of fertilizer and plants, then back at you. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Of course. What's not to enjoy? Being able to create something beautiful, nurturing it, watching it grow. I love it."

You were being sincere and honest this time, no need to change everything about yourself. He studied you carefully, then made his way towards you, pulling out his handkerchief and gesturing for you to take it. "You have some soil on your forehead."

You blushed, taking the fabric and cleaning yourself; that was entirely on accident, but it was working well for your act. "Hazards of the job," you said, giving him a sweet smile and handing it back to him.

He smirked, sliding the used handkerchief into his pocket with a practiced grace. "It's no problem at all; I'll leave you to your work," he moved to leave when he suddenly paused and turned back to face you. "I don't mean to be impolite, but what do you have in your hair?"

"What?" You replied, feeling the side of your head where your hair was braided. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but it was important to feign innocence. "Oh, it's verbena, one of the plants your brother asked me to grow," you pulled the flower out of your hair and twirled it between your fingers. "It's an herb, and it smells nice, too," you lifted the blossom towards him.

He didn't make any move to take it from you, and you knew exactly why. Verbena was known for repelling vampires, you had braided the sprigs into your hair and woven it into the band of your hat. They were small enough to be ignored, but they were powerful.

"Out of curiosity, what else did he ask you to grow?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hmm, let's see," you turned away from him searching for the list you had left in your bag. "Monkshood, Sage, Yarrow, Verbena, and Winter bloom," you read off to him. "Klaus told me he liked the colors together."

You both knew that was utter bull shit. All of the plants were herbs with various magical properties, especially in the hands of a witch.

"Hmmm, of course he did, my brother can be very particular," he replied, looking a bit uneasy.

"It sounds like a diabolical witch's brew straight out of a fairy tale," you laughed, and so did he, but the tension was still there.

"It does, doesn't it." He paused for a moment, as though he was debating whether or not he should say something. "The verbena suits you. You should keep wearing it in your hair."

You smiled, blushing and twirling the flower between your fingers, "Thank you, I think I will."

"I will leave you to your work. My brother will be returning shortly, so if you have any questions, please feel free to ask him."

"Thank you," you replied cheerfully, "I appreciate that."

With that, he walked out of the greenhouse, shutting the door behind him. Once you were alone, the smile dropped from your face. Your hands were shaking and the adrenaline was coursing through your body. You were scared and excited all at the same time, the rush was overwhelming. It had been a risk, to flirt so brazenly with danger, but it had paid off.

Soon you would have your prize and the ancestors would honor you for generations to come.

You had your headphones on, humming along to your music as you worked on planting a row of winter bloom. It had taken a couple of hours to organize all the flowerbeds and fill them with soil. Now, the hardest part was getting everything planted.

You felt a large vibration through the floor, then another. You stood, pulling off your headphones; a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway, along with a loud crash coming from the courtyard. You quickly shut off the music and crept towards the door, peeking your head out. You heard angry voices and saw the shadow of a fight moving along the walls.

You stepped out into the open, walking slowly towards the noise, your spade clutched tightly in your fist. You peeked around the corner to find a gruesome sight.

Crumbled on the floor was what looked to be a pile of bodies, blood pooling out around them. Another scream came from above. You looked up to see Klaus on the third floor, holding a woman by her neck as he dangled her over the railing. Her feet kicking erratically as she helplessly struggled.

"You know the rules, no magic in the quarter," he yelled, his voice crackling with rage, pulling the woman close to his face. "You witches think you can make moves against my family and live," he said in hushed fury. "Now I have to use you and your conspirators as an example."

The woman gasped and clawed at his arm. Her face was turning blue, and her eyes were bulging. Klaus glanced down, meeting your eyes. Then he dropped her, her scream cut off as she hit the floor, a loud crack reverberating through the compound.

Suddenly, Klaus was in front of you. You tried to use the spade to defend yourself, striking out in his direction. He laughed and grabbed it from you with extreme ease. He then planted both of his hands against the wall on either side of your head. His eyes were black with murder, blood dripping from his grinning mouth. You tried to look away from his horrifying face, too frightened to even scream.

It was him, the fabled beast, the abomination. You could hear the voices of your ancestors, thousands of voices yelling out in anger, screaming at him.

Kill him, kill him, kill him, they chanted, louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes and all the chanting turned to screams of fear and agony. Like they were being slaughtered by him all over again.

"Hello love, you must be the new gardener," he said, his words soft and gentle, "I'll be sure to give you a generous tip, for services rendered."

You wanted to tell him that he was the devil, the monster, the bringer of death. That you would be the one to end him. But you were paralyzed with terror, the screams and images were too much. You shut your eyes tight, trying to block it all out, but it was impossible. You started to sob, tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the dirt on your face.

"Look at me," he said softly, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks.

You opened your eyes, your vision blurry and your head spinning. He had a strange look on his face, half amused, half concerned. He brushed away your tears with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You won't remember anything about today; all you know is that you did another excellent day of work and finished all the planting," he said slowly, staring deeply into your eyes.

He let go of your face and offered you the spade. You looked down, taking it from his steady hand with your shaking one. He believed he could compel you, and you had to convince him that was true. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, remembering your training, focusing on slowing down your heart, relaxing your muscles. You couldn't panic, or you would die.

You looked back up at him, and he seemed pleased with himself, smiling brightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Go back to your work," he said, patting you on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you tried to compose yourself. You were so scared you could barely stand. You had faced the beast, and you had survived. The screams in your head were deafening, the images of the dead witches flashed through your mind, the pain of their deaths searing through your body. But slowly, all their garbled words turned into one unifying chant.

Death to all vampires, death to all vampires, you whispered, echoing their words, clutching your spade tightly in your fist.

You half walked, half ran from your car to your shop, scrambling inside. You threw your tool bag behind the counter and headed to the back room. You faced the stone wall, and with trembling fingers, you slid aside the brick that hid the hidden latch. Your hand was shaking so hard you could barely get the door open.

Once it swung open, the scent of incense wafted through the air, filling your nose. The others had already gathered, all seven of them, the other witches who were brave enough to make a stand against the vampire scourge.

You rushed into the small room and shut the door behind you, turning to face them. They were waiting for you, looking at you expectantly.

"Report," Agnes demanded, her eyes narrowed and her hands gripping her cane tightly.

"They don't suspect a thing," you said, your voice still a little shaky. "The abominations bought my act,"

"And the ash?" Agnes asked.

"Location still unknown," you replied.

She nodded, seeming satisfied with the news, "very well,"

"How was it? Facing them, what were they like?" Your friend Beatrice asked, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"It was horrible," you replied, "they are just as ancestors say,"

"We need to plan the next steps," Maeve interjected, she was always impatient, wanting everything to happen as soon as possible.

"Maeve," Beatrice chastised. "If they suspect something is amiss, this could all fall to ruin,"

"We have a way in, that's the first step completed, we should not waste any time," Maeve argued. "Y/n can only plant a garden so slowly, when she is done we will lose all access to the compound."

Agnes was about to reply, but the door chime of the shop rang, cutting her off. "I will handle this," you said, taking a deep breath.

You looked to your sisters and nodded, leaving them and going back out into the shop. You would be right back to finish the meeting, you just had to quickly deal with a customer.

You put a smile on your face and rounded the corner, only to come face to face with one of the monsters you were just talking about.

Elijah.

He was standing by a shelf, looking at a potted plant. You swallowed, composing yourself before walking towards him.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as cheerfully as you could, "what can I do for you today?"

He looked up at you and smiled, putting the pot back down.

"I apologize for the intrusion," he said politely. "I wanted to see your shop, it's lovely," he gestured to the display shelves and many plants hanging from the ceiling.

"Thank you, I've spent a lot of time making it this way," you replied, feeling a bit proud.

"Your work in the greenhouse is quite impressive," he said, looking back at you, a curious expression on his face.

"It was nothing," you laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck, trying not to meet his gaze.

"I wanted to ask you something," he continued, walking around the store, looking at the various plants.

"Ask away,"

"You're a witch," he said casually, picking up a pot of herbs, taking in their fragrance.

You felt your heart stop, but you tried to remain calm. You had prepared for this, bumps in the road are to be expected.

"That's more of a statement than a question." You said as calmly as you could.

"Yes, well, you've done a very good job of hiding it, so much so that my brother didn't even suspect," he glanced at you, his brown eyes dark, almost black. "It seems strange that you would take a job as a gardener in a vampire's home."

"Why does that matter?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He stepped closer, and you backed up, bumping into the shelving behind you. Leaning down, his face hovering inches from yours, you could feel the heat of his breath on your face, and you were frozen in place.

"I like you," he whispered, "and I want to give you a chance to explain yourself."

You stared him directly in the eye, trying not to flinch or show any emotion. "It's important to protect yourself in these times,"

He chuckled, looking amused. "You speak of the ban on magic? My brother's rule of the quarter?"

"Yes," you replied simply.

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "And how would you like to change that?"

You swallowed, the voices of your ancestors ringing in your ears. Lie, lie, lie, they commanded.

"I'm simply trying to survive," you answered, it wasn't a lie, just an incomplete truth. "I have no love for my kind,"

"Hmm," he mused, his dark eyes studying your face. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "So, tell me, are you planning on harming my family?"

You could feel his energy, his power. He was ancient, powerful, and deadly. "Of course not," you replied, looking up at him, praying your face didn't betray you.

He didn't respond, his gaze searching yours. He was close, so close, you could smell the cologne on his skin, the subtle hints of soap and shampoo. You knew the stories, the horrors, here you were, staring into the eyes of death himself.

You leaned in and kissed him, placing a hand on his chest. It was a wild gamble, but one that you hoped would explain your nervous energy.

He stiffened, surprised at the sudden contact. Then, as if he remembered himself, his hands grabbed you, pulling you in tightly against him. You had been told over and over that vampires were monsters, cold and heartless, but the heat radiating from him was overwhelming. He was so gentle and his lips were so soft. He pulled away, his eyes boring into yours. You were sure that he could see into your soul, see all the secrets and plans you were hiding. But, if he did, he didn't say anything.

"Well," he said, releasing you and straightening his suit jacket, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

You were about to say something when he was gone. You let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the shelves.

"Shit," you whispered.

You could see your path now, the way forward to victory, to eliminate the world of vampires. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself. You couldn't fail, not now, not when you had come so far.

All that was required was that you seduce a monster.

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

[himewonu]

POSER! ; jeon wonwoo

level twenty three : my evil mandarin warrior twin

mlist | prev ; next

🗯️ bro ur guys’ comments last chap were taking me out😭🙏 like i only wrote that cs my friend fell down the stairs

[🏷️] @miumura @juyeoz @codeinebelle @leehsngs @meowtella @i03jae @tastyluvr @leahhhher @02shuuu @luvlykiki @starshuas @potabletable @ivehypnosis @tacosandbitch @heeheesang @elegancefr @paradiseoflosers @bibblemiluvr @lovekyr @mikemorningstar

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 fic" For All Life and For All Time" {the final chapter, fic complete!}

Yes, it has taken me longer than I hoped, but I have finally finished my three-part Dracula-themed Victorian CS AU for the @cssns!!! I'm really pleased with how it's come together, and I'm excited to share this last part with you. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. (And I hope the mostly happy ending will allow you to forgive the bit of pain we'll have to endure in getting there...

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

Also available from the start here on Tumblr or on AO3

(See just a couple more author's notes at chapter's end)

Part Three

by: @snowbellewells

Unable to help himself, a roar of outrage and horror tore from Killian’s chest, ringing across the wide, high-ceilinged space at the sight of the monster draining Emma’s life flow from her veins. Forgetting their plan, forgetting the compatriots around him, seeing only another woman he loved ravaged and dead and himself unable to save her, violent red rage coursed through his body as he charged forward.

Either the prick of the vampire’s fangs into her neck, the pain that immediately followed, or the wild howl of a man unmoored and the sound of oncoming feet, seemed to snap Emma into awareness. A startled cry escaped her lips, eyelids fluttering rapidly as she struggled to regain her bearings before they snapped open in shocked realization of her position in Dracula’s clutches and what was happening to her and around her. She recoiled with a visible shudder, and what strength she had saw her struggling once again to free herself. 

Somewhere in the haze that nearly consumed him, Killian drew some morsel of comfort from the sight. Though her slim build and weakened state made her attempts akin to those of a songbird beating its wings against the firm, steel bars of a gilded cage against von Stiltskin’s implacable, inhuman strength, she didn’t stop for even a moment. Emma was still herself, not lost to them yet.

Killian mastered himself somewhat as he drew near to the vampire and his struggling victim. He must find his clarity, follow through on the plan they had laid out if they were to give Emma her best chance, and to survive themselves. Thankfully, his brothers-in-arms had only recently weathered the horrifying loss he feared, the image of Aurora’s pale and terrifying beauty as the vampiress the Count had made her, and the lengths to which they had gone to restore her humanity, if only in death, must still haunt them now, but it had served them well. The other three had fanned out over the space, insuring that whichever way the monster turned he must needs face one of them in an attempt to fly.

To see the feral gleam in the creature’s eye though, Killian did not believe retreat would be his action this time. As much as on her blood, Dracula was feeding on Emma’s wretched noises and her futile attempts to escape, writhing and bucking in his grasp to no avail. A malevolent glee seemed to seep from every pore under the dead, white skin, causing the vampire to glisten with it, an oozing sheen of evil that seemed almost a protective layer cloaking their foe.

It was now or never; Emma could not afford their hesitation, the element of surprise had been lost even before their arrival, and they were all in place now, as prepared as ever they could be. Raising his voice with a commanding authority he hardly felt, Killian drew from his cloak for the vampire to see, the dagger he had sought halfway across the continent, brandishing it as he would a shining shield. “Von Stiltskin,” he bellowed, staring down the nightmare who had stalked his dreams for years, “let her go!”

At first glimpse of the dagger in his adversary’s grip, the vampire fell back with a hiss, momentarily struck enough to ease his grip on Emma slightly and to remove his fangs from her neck as his displeasure was made known. The unsettling, glowing eyes were murderous, unhinged, but also showed fear in spite of the creature’s anger. Killian moved forward again that much more confident the weapon must indeed wield the powers purported. Why else would the Count hesitate to attack him now, as he drew within striking distance? Particularly with the speed he knew Dracula to possess. He had set himself as the bait for that very reason; to draw focus while the others attacked from all sides. It took almost more restraint than he possessed not to dart forward and pull Emma from the suddenly lax grip the vampire held upon her, to get between them and shield her with his own body from further harm. In truth, the way she slumped as the hold grew less nearly made his panic soar beyond his control, until she managed to catch his eye, raising her head just a moment, but the flicker in the snapping jade orbs told him she was ready the moment she had an opportunity, not quite as limp or defeated as she meant to appear.

The relief that flooded him was almost certainly premature, a distraction he could not afford, and yet it also suffused his being with new strength and will. Only a few steps more, and he would be close enough to land a damaging blow. From the corners of his vision, Killian could see that Jefferson, Graham, and Philip were all in position, each man poised and alert, ready to do just as they had planned. Wordlessly, Killian gave the signal, and even as he pushed forward, the dagger raised to drive through Dracula’s heart if he were to have the chance, the others moved in with him, matching him stride for stride.

If not for their stalwart presence, he might have lost himself, Killian realized, shaking the reddened haze of anger from his vision. But as they tightened their circle, his aim sharpened, and their monstrous foe’s attention was split between the oncoming assailants, just as they had hoped.

Even as Killian readied his arm, steeling himself to sink the dagger home, he saw the rapid movement to his left of Graham Morris driven forward by fighting instinct and chivalric nature past any further hesitation, despite their previous agreement that Killian must strike first with the fated blade. Graham’s slice went deep, and with a roar of pain the monster dropped its clawed grip on Emma completely. She fell to the floor in a heap, and that taloned grasp swiped outward, catching Morris in the gut and dragging across his torso viciously. Graham stumbled back with a gasp, clutching his middle where red already leaked through his fingers.

Killian could not falter; for just one moment, Dracula was stunned, injured - vulnerable - and so he drove the dagger into the monster’s chest, right where its heart would be, if that organ could still exist in one such as he, and followed through with all his might. 

The vampire howled and snapped its terrible jaws, resembling even the guise of humanity less and less with every second. Mere breaths after the deathblow struck home, the vampire sunk to its knees. Yet, even with strength waning, lashed out and gripped Killian about the neck, too firmly to be shaken off and inexorably squeezing, closing off the air from his lungs. It was as though the fiend knew he had finally been bested, but would not sink into the fires below without taking his conqueror with him.

Killian Jones had long since readied himself for such an eventuality. In the long, solitary years he had spent tracking Dracula von Stiltskin’s whereabouts and seeking out any possible weaknesses which might bring about his defeat, he had accepted that his quest’s end would almost surely mean his own as well. And he had been at peace with that. There had been little but bitterness and pain for him in the world at any rate. But now, he found he could not let go just yet; he had reason to stay on this Earth, to live again, beyond Dracula’s downfall, thanks to the band of brothers who surrounded him, and especially the woman who was now rising from where she had fallen.

Scrabbling frantically at the hands which closed off his windpipe, desperate to see this battle finished once and for all, and that Emma was alright, he fought to free himself of the iron hold and the darkening edges encroaching on his sight.

Though it could not have been more than moments, time seemed to have stretched and lengthened oddly, so that Killian had almost forgotten Seward and Thornswood, until both made their own strikes at the monster almost simultaneously. Thornswood came from the right, hacking the creature’s arm with such force it was nearly detached at the shoulder, finally loosening the death grip on Killian and allowing him the air to stay conscious. Seward had attacked from behind, wisely intending to sever the vampire’s neck and remove the head, the only sure way to finish him off. The creature’s fall to its knees had thrown his aim off, however, and his blade was now sunk so deep in the fiend’s back that he struggled to pull it out to try again.

Pulling in great, gasping breaths, Killian searched for the dagger to remove the head himself. No matter how badly they had wounded Dracula, he would regenerate if they did not make certain he was ash. Yet all he could find was the intricate jeweled hilt. It would seem to have disintegrated within the beast upon finding its mark.

Before he could think what to do, Killian saw Emma rise, wavering unsteadily on her feet, but with the hair-raising war cry of a Valkyrie. She had pulled the knife he had sent with her from its sheath at her thigh and she struck the monster’s neck swiftly and certainly - as well as he could have done it himself - before falling to the floor again with a wail and turning her head into his chest.

Though Killian was honored and truly touched to have Emma turn to him for strength in that moment, he pulled back slightly, lifting her chin and urging her to turn so she could also see what was happening before his very eyes. He felt he knew and understood Emma Swan almost as well as he knew himself, and he was unwaveringly sure that - just as he did - she would need to witness what was unfolding, for her own future peace of mind.

And what a sight it was at that - one he had nearly despaired of ever witnessing. With a last bellow that seemed to shake the rafters and the floor beneath their feet, the immortal monster met his end. An otherworldly wind whirled around the vampire as it was buffeted and torn, with bits of him being stripped away piece by piece. Chinks of light began to show through his form to the the far wall, and then it was as though he began to crystallize and dissolve, blown away like sand on the wind.

The howl of the dying creature as it was pulled apart, combined with the pressure and whipping of the blinding wind nearly stole their breath. It was all Killian could do to stand his ground and cling to Emma with all his might to steady her as well. When the small whirlwind finally eased, seeming to vanish back from wherever it had come, all of their company stood still as stone for several long moments. They were silent; frozen in shock and hardly daring to believe that Dracula von Stiltskin was now the mere pile of ash at their feet; the dust barely settled, but the long reign of terror at last at its end.

A wheezing gasp, low and ragged, from off to their left was what finally broke them from their frozen state. “I-Is he f-finished?” the voice asked desperately.

Where Emma had been leaning on him heavily, her reserves of strength and adrenaline nearly drained away, she suddenly jerked forward, her eyes meeting his in alarm, seeming to ask, ‘How could we have forgotten?’

They hurried toward the pained voice, now clearly accompanied by labored breathing, once the tumult had died down. Philip Thornswood had beated them there, already dropping to his knees beside their fallen comrade with a tense exclamation of “Morris!” that made his dismay all too clear. He reached beneath the other man’s shoulders, elevating his head and torso slightly and looking with worried brow to Jefferson for direction.

The doctor had also knelt beside the brave adventurer, pulling back the remnants of ruined shirt and vest to examine Graham Morris’ wound. But his grim expression only told them what they had already feared. There was so much blood - beneath him, around him, still leaking from the open wound - gaping appallingly no matter how much they wished to see otherwise.

Graham’s large, expressive brown eyes had gone a bit glassy, but they still flicked from one to another of his friends earnestly. “Tell me, please… whatever it is. Is the monster gone?”

There was nothing to be done for him, not that could be accomplished in a dank, drafty castle with no surgical equipment and so much blood loss. Clearly even the cowboy already knew it, and so none forced Seward to put the bleak reality into words. Instead, he reached out and took Morris’ hand in his, clasping tightly as Thornswood did the same at his shoulder. “Dracula’s reign of terror is over. We did it, my Friend. Rest easy on that.”

A rattling breath escaped the Irishman’s lungs at those words, as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment in deeply felt relief. They almost wondered if he was already fading when they flickered open once more and he asked, “A-and Emma? Miss Swan? Is she…?”

With a pained cry, Emma stumbled to his other side and dropped next to him on the cold cement floor, anxious to ease his mind and offer him her thanks if that were all that she could do. Reaching out a trembling hand, she smoothed a sweaty curl from his clammy forehead, squeezing his fingers - heedless of how they were tacky with dried blood - tightly in her own and then pressing their joined hands to her chest with emotion.

“I’m here,” she murmured, “We all are.” She didn’t know what else to do, but she didn’t want this brave man who had fought against evil and helped to save her life to feel alone for even one second in this horrible passing.

Morris managed a faint press of Emma’s fingers in return, almost smiling tremulously as he added with a ragged gasp, “M-Miss Swan? It is g-good to see you, milady.  Are you truly alright?”

Tears still rimmed Emma’s green eyes, glittering in the strange half-light like jewels on her lashes as she nodded fervently. “Yes, I am. Please do not fret on that anymore. I will be fine. Thanks in no small part to you, Mr. Morris.” Her voice trembled with emotion at feeling the strength in his hand that she clasped in her own lessening with each moment that passed. The roving hero’s journey was inescapably nearing its end, and though he had fought well and seen their battle won, he would not have the chance to savor the victory they had wrought, nor to enjoy the newfound peace he had helped to secure.

“Thank the Lord and all His saints for that,” he exhaled, the words barely more than a whisper of breath. When his eyes fell closed that time, his lashes did not flutter open again; the struggling rise and fall of his chest went still, and Graham Morris breathed his last.

Strong, formidable men all, his allies were, and still in that frigid, ruined throne room Emma’s tears were not the only ones shed over the body of the impetuous wanderer who had given his last to the cause. Somehow the hours had hurried on; the sun was rising once more over the eastern peaks, and they had to leave the forbidding outpost of their vanquished foe. Though it was hard to believe they would leave that castle to tread on the same earth after the waking nightmare they had just survived, there was little else to be done but to press onward as best they could.

Emma Swan raised her eyes, her gaze seeking the only imaginable solace to be found - the answering blue stare of Killian Joens, mourning too, but still resolute and offering the hope of comfort to which she could cling. She focused on him and drew from his strength as the new day’s sun bathed the tragic scene in yet more red and gold with its returning glow. For the moment she must beyond the loss to the future - one they would have with certainty, now that the vampire was no more.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Two Years Later…

A cool, gentle breeze drifts in through the open window as Killian Jones, once the driven and coolly implacable vampire hunter Van Helsing, stands looking out over the fields and grounds of the country estate he now shares with the two lights of his life: Emma, his beautiful bride of more than a year, the savior of his heart and soul, and their new son, who gurgles happily in his arms. Looking down at the baby’s playful noisemaking, Killian grins, utterly enchanted by the gummy smile the little lad gives him, kicking his chubby feet energetically and latching onto his papa’s finger with an impressively tight grip of his small fist. For a babe just days old, Killian feels he must be especially brilliant to already show such personality and expression, though he knows he is more than biased and does not care one bit.

Emma is still recovering from the delivery in their suite just down the hall, so he happily took the wee one for a bit of a walk about the place after his last feeding, and now finds himself standing in the nursery enjoying both the peaceful meadows outside the window view and the tiny miracle in his arms, still rather stunned that he ever managed to find such contentment after so much struggle and pain.

Just then he hears lightly shuffling footsteps behind him, mere moments before his wife’s slender arms wrap around him from behind. He smiles warmly, feeling the same satisfaction she seems to as she burrows her face between his shoulderblades and hums delightedly while breathing him in.

Making sure their son is cradled securely against his body and within the crook of his arm, Killian brings his other hand down to cover Emma’s own and squeeze gently, gladly returning the affectionate touch, even as he chides lightly, “You, my darling, are meant to be resting, not up and roaming about the manor.”

Her soft laughter seems to brighten the very air with its light notes of joy, carefree and open as both of them are only now learning to allow their emotions to be - on the surface and able to be shared. Laying her cool, soft hand to rest over his heart, even as she returns the loving press of his fingers around her own, she cannot help the playfully tart response that escapes her lips. “You know better than to coddle me like some china doll, Mr. Jones.”

He can practically see the challenging quirk to her brow, the way she tilts her head in expectation when when she baits him, just waiting for his reply, and the knowing curve upwards at one corner of her mouth, even though he cannot actually look her in the face with her cuddled against his back.

Taking the hand he holds and using it to pull her in a wide circle, Killian brings his wife around to face him and gather her close again. His arms are wrapped around his whole world in their small family, and their little one is cradled between them as he gazes down into Emma’s eyes. “Forgive me, Mrs. Jones, but I believe it is my duty and right to care for the well-being of my lady wife.”

Shaking her head at his overly formal repartee, she huffs out an affectionate breath of exasperated acquiescence. 

Their back and forth is interrupted when their son begins to fuss, nosing doggedly at the front of Emma’s gown and letting her know without question that he is again ready for his meal. “He’s your child, that much is certain,” Emma adds tartly, a sardonic tone to her voice as she eyes her husband. “Insatiable.”

But even as she takes the child more fully into her own arms, moves aside her robe, and brings him closer to her breast, she lets one hand trail along Killian’s flank and playfully squeeze his rear in a moment’s tease, before moving away to carry their little boy to the rocking chair by the bassinet and settling in to feed him properly.

Killian’s body cannot help but jerk slightly in surprised response to her amorous caress, several parts of his anatomy coming to life. It is true that he always wants her, but he is not about to risk Emma’s health or comfort before her body is fully healed and restored from the birth of their son. “It would seem your roving hands prove I’m not the only insatiable one,” he murmurs lowly, a feral grin lighting his features as he follows her across the room and bends to take her lips with his own. The kiss is deep and leaves them both breathless. If all he can have at the moment, he will certainly make his kisses count.

She hums in agreement; relaxed, at ease, and happy as the little one settles again and she brushes tender fingers over the soft tufts of dark hair atop the boy’s hair. Quincey Morris Jones blinks eyes as blue as his father’s up at them sleepily once he has begun to get his fill. They had decided almost immediately to pass the surname of the lost member of their band of brothers on to their first child; it seemed the only tribute fitting enough to truly honor his sacrifice, and a worthy namesake to give their boy who would surely grow up to be as honorable and true as the man of whom they would tell him proudly.

As Killian takes the newborn, who is once more dozing, from his mother’s arms and lowers him carefully into his crib, he looks back at his wife. Her eyes practically glow with love for him, and a small, secret smile plays upon her perfect mouth. Beckoning Killian to her, Emma accepts his hand to rise, and lets him guide her back to their bedroom, where he curls around her protectively, staying dutifully at her side to insure her rest. Watching over her as she drifts back to sleep, and he hovers on the brink of it himself, Killian thinks of the day when he will tell young Quincey tales that prove just how marvelous a woman his mother is. So beautiful, daring, and brilliant that men would dare to risk all for her sake.

THE END~

Author's Note: I truly cannot believe that I've completed this story - and my work for the last @cssns but I won't be too sad as I still have ones from past years to finish, and I can always come back to read the many other amazing entries to the event's collection. @cssns was such a wonderful thing to be part of, and I will always be grateful to have been a small part of it!

As to this story's last chapter, I hope you will fondly remember a similar final line to the novel by Bram Stoker. When it struck me that I could use a similar closely line for this story, I was so excited!!! (Still, I thought I should give credit where credit was due, even if I have put it in my own words and context.)

And secondly, please PLEASE forgive me for Graham Morris! You truly can't be hurting much more than I hurt myself in trying to write it. (That's part of what has taken so long to complete this final chapter.) I knew when I made him the likeness of the American cowboy Quincey Morris (my adored fave character in the original novel) that this part of the story would come, I still wasn't prepared for how hard it was to actually follow through and do it.

I hope you've enjoyed this one - I've really loved working in this universe!!

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615

@searchingwardrobes @xarandomdreamx @myfearless-love @xsajx @bluewildcatfanatic

@apiratewhopines @anmylica @laschatzi @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87

@lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @motherkatereloyshipper @stahlop @hollyethecurious

@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @belovedcreation @jonesfandomfanatic @kday426

@resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @booksteaandtoomuchtv @everything-person @winterbaby90

@undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @darkcolinodonorgasm @goforlaunchcee @laianely

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @the-darkdragonfly @grimmswan

[luvlyycy]

.ﾟ+. : summary — You're an ordinary girl who works at an even more ordinary Café. Although, you've been having sleep paralysis lately— what happens when a devil tells you he's dedicated to keeping you alive?

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ details -> this is porn with plot, mentions of murder, daigo gets off on seeing reader cry, reader has a cat, daigo takes multiple personalities to heart, porn porn, i cannot stress this enough, there is porn, fluff at some points, angst at some points too, p in v, reader is a female, blowjob, ass eating, face sitting, daigo can take his mask off in this, excessive cum, creampie(s), pain kink if u squint, its just daigo being a sex freak tbh. enjoy :3c !!

a / n — .txt : this is specifically for the daigo lovers. i love him. i want him desperately. i want him carnally. and i strived to make a great daigo fic cs i wanna fuck him!!!!!!! (this will be cross posted on ao3!)

ू ꒰ ♡ - ˕ - ꒱ word count : 5,428

It started off slow, not being able to move during specific times in the night. It scared you a bit, but eventually you got used to it.

You never saw anything. You never heard anything. In the beginning, anyway.

You weren’t religious by any means, but you always believed there was something worse out there– worse than any murderer, or any criminal. You believed there was true evil out there.

Maybe that’s why it— He– Targeted you; or at least, that’s how it felt.

You were out late, closing up at the cafe where you worked. You were antsy to get home and sleep, fatigue settling into your bones. You wave goodbye to the last customer before cleaning up the tables, chairs, and counters. Usual tasks, taking out the trash before switching the sign from open to closed. You grab your keys and head home, the summer heat brushing against your face despite it being at least midnight.

The ride isn’t long, but it isn’t that short. The usual bustling of cars dwindled down to a few passing you on the way home. You enter through the driveway, twisting your key and exiting the car.

Once you get to your door, it takes a few moments of fumbling before you get the door open.

You step in and are welcomed by your cat purring and rubbing against your leg, you smile before shutting the door behind you. You lean down to pet her head, “Aww, did you miss me?” she meows back in return.

Leaning upwards, you toss your bag onto the table, along with your keys. You ponder whether or not to shower, ultimately deciding yes. The shower lasts about thirty minutes. You step out and grab the towel, taking two minutes or so to dry off.

After that, you shimmy yourself into your sleeping clothes and climb comfortably into bed. You feel your cat climb into it with you, nuzzling against your leg before she, seemingly, gets ready to sleep along with you.

It’s easy to fall asleep.

One hour.

Two hours.

Three.

Your eyes shoot open, the room feeling exceptionally cold. You don’t feel the presence of your cat anymore, but you do feel something. Something— Someone’s gaze. You attempt to look around before realizing—

Can’t move again.

Your eyes can barely spot anything, and the room is so dark it feels like you’re looking through a void. You try to move despite knowing you can’t. It takes a few minutes before your eyes get accustomed to the dark.

That’s when you hear it.

Breathing.

You hear it to the left, just out of your sight. The bed dips to your left, right next to your arm— like someone or something is pushing it down to let you know it’s there. Tears well up in your eyes from the fear, before you hear something again.

“Shhh.”

If you could scream, you would, but you’re lying there– defenceless, useless, and most of all– terrified. You shut your eyes tightly, your chest heaving as your heart thumps wildly in your throat. You feel your heartbeat everywhere: chest, throat, stomach, and ears. It almost hurts.

Something cold touches your arm, and your heart nearly stops. You’re convinced this is how you die.

It’s a finger. One, two, three, four, five. Five fingers wrap around your arm. Sweat builds up on you from the adrenaline, and then it makes a sound.

It’s like it growls, low and guttural. The hand travels to your chest, then to your throat. Instead of being cold, the palm heats up when it makes contact with your neck.

The bed dips down even more, and you finally open your eyes to attempt to get a glimpse of what— or who- exactly, is tormenting you right now.

Bright blue eyes stare back at you, glowing above your head— no mouth in sight. You can tell that it’s something against its face, a mask maybe. The mask is golden, adorned by two big horns on the top that slowly turn gold near the edges.

It blinks.

You blink.

You choke– “What—” you’re confused as to why you can suddenly speak, but you don’t let that stop you. “What, what are you?” it comes out in a pathetic stutter.

You feel its chest against your arm, his other hand pressed beside your head— he tilts his head to the side.

“You can speak?”

He has the voice of a man. Deep, flat, and dead. His husky voice startles you. You don’t want to speak again, and he senses that.

His palm leaves your throat and caresses your cheek, his eyes seem to be searching for any discomfort— he finds it. His claws graze your cheek, and you flinch, fat tears rolling down the apple of your cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers, “I would never hurt you.”

You don’t know why, but the longer you look into his eyes, the faster your heartbeat stabilizes.

“So..” you gulp, “what are you?” you ask again.

He stays silent for a second, his eyes squinting as if he’s thinking. The mere fact that he’s thinking about it makes you wonder if he’s human.

“I’m something of an attachment, you could say,” he starts, eyes locked onto yours, “although, unlike other attachments, I’m far more powerful.”

Your body shakes underneath his gaze, “Are you like…a demon?”

He chuckles, and you can see his eyes move in a way that seems like he’s smiling beneath the golden mask. “Stronger than that.”

“The other thing stronger than a demon is—” you stop yourself before you can even speak it. It scares you to say it. Could this man— this being– actually be? Could he actually be—

“Devil.” he finishes.

You freeze, everything freezes. Your body heats up, and the thumping of your heart returns.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No. I remember specifically saying I wouldn’t hurt you, do you not trust me?”

You don’t know why, but you find it in yourself to scoff.

“No, I don’t trust you!” you shout, voice trembling, “You just told me that you’re a devil— A fucking devil! I’ve never even believe you— they– were real! This is crazy!”

“Calm down,” he sharply hisses, both hands making contact with your shoulders and pushing you against the comfort of your bed, “I’m here every night. You just don’t see me.”

He watches as your face trembles, the familiar face of you crying, slowly building up to burst into full sobbing. He groans and adjusts his position, nearly straddling you. He places your legs over his and wraps his arms around your body; engulfing you.

“Don’t cry. I’m not here to harm you. I’m your attachment.” he sighs out, his cold mask rubbing against your chest. Your hands tremble as you raise them to finally touch him, grazing over his back– your fingertips outline the shape of a face. He has details everywhere, there’s no way you could possibly remember every part of him.

He whispers your name into your skin, fingertips tracing shapes into your hip and your back.

“I-I just, don’t understand,” you sob out, voice crackling as you do, “How are you even attached to me? What did I do to make this happen?”

“It’s complicated. Let’s just call it fate.” he mumbles into your chest.

He hums, “Your breathing..” he sighs, “You’re going to pass out soon.”

You whine into nothing as you feel your fatigue catching up to you. “No..” you croak, and he just raises his face toward yours, a dark strand of hair falling over his mask.

“Good Night.”

Darkness engulfs you.

When you open your eyes, it’s daytime and you feel your cat against your leg. Was it a dream? Your breathing is heavy when you drag yourself to the bathroom to wash up, the sweat from last night causing your body to be sticky and moist.

You look into the mirror and let out a pitiful, ear-numbing shriek. You spot the devil behind you. Finally seeing him in the light, he’s like something out of a novel. Faces of agony carved into his chest with stone spikes poking out from his shoulder pads. You notice that a few spots of his body have black and gold smoke pouring out from the cracks. He towers over you, at least 6’1.

“Holy shit— You almost gave me a heart attack.”

He stays silent, just tilts his head and steps closer, eyes locked onto you within the mirror. He curls his hand loosely around your waist, and you turn around to see with him— you’re met with emptiness. Your eyes lock back onto the mirror, and you still see him with his hand around your waist.

He gives your stomach a quick squeeze before speaking, “Since you’ve seen me, I can show myself whenever need be.”

You wiggle in his grasp, “This is so weird.” you mumble, and you see his eyes crinkle again, a small chuckle escaping him.

“It’s time for work.” he reminds you.

“Oh.”

You get ready with his help, but then it hits you when you grab your keys– head tilting to the side, turning around to see where he his, you don’t see him, but you ask anyway, “What’s your name?”

You hear him speak from behind you, “Daigo.” It startles you, but you turn around, seeing him near the door.

“Oookay, Daigo. Can you not scare my customers?” you plead.

His eyes crinkle, “They can’t see me. I’ve only put my energy into your eyes, which makes it so that I can do whatever I want with you— I’d have to do the same with them if I wanted them to see me.”

You clasp your hands together, “Great! Then let’s get to work.”

Honestly, you thought having a devil attached to you would be a lot scarier than this. It’s like having someone to talk to at all times.

He stands with you behind the counter and even hands you cups! It’s a bit awkward having to tell him to stand outside when you use the bathroom, but you’ll get used to it.

When there are no customers, that’s the only time you get to talk to him.

You lean on the counter, and scroll mindlessly through your phone, “Were you always a devil? Like, were you born this way?”

He stands directly behind you, “It’s complicated. I died a long time ago.”

“Oh,” you turn around and look at him, “can I ask how?”

“I may not answer.”

“How?”

He sighs heavily, “I was murdered. So, as I was looking for vengeance, it consumed me as a whole. There were multiple spirits around me, and I heard that my murderer had died. I,” he spares a moment to look down, “I had stopped them all from passing on, and consumed their souls into mine. That caught the eye of a demon– He was a shogun. He told me in order to get what I wanted, I would have to be a devil.”

He explains that turning into a devil wasn’t easy, how he had abandoned his brother and sister simply so he could return the favor of his murderer. It’s a sad story.

“Why did you attach to me then? Did someone in my family murder you?”

He squints.

“No.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“In the realm—” he pauses for a moment, as if worried someone might hear, “We watch over people who are soon to die in disgusting and vulgar ways. Most of the time, it’s our job to make sure they happen. However, it’s against the rules to stop it.”

He looks down, ashamed.

Your face twists into one of confusion, “Wait, wait, so you’re saying… You saved my life, Daigo?”

“He would have killed you last night.”

Oh.

“Who?” you ask.

“Robber. He followed you home from work and was planning on robbing you as you slept. I saw into his mind�� It was terrible.” he winces, “He wanted to do horrible things to you, I couldn’t let that happen.”

“What did you do to him, Daigo?”

“Don’t ask.” he looks up from the floor, his hands raising to be placed on the counter behind you, “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Do you understand?”

You gasp, “Yes. I understand, Daigo.”

His head swings to the door, and he hisses, “Customer.”

You turn back to the counter and continue working, silently thanking Daigo for saving your life even though you didn’t know he did. The day goes on until it’s time to go home again, this time, instead of being followed unknowingly, Daigo follows you like a guard dog to his master.

Once you get home, you watch as he phases through the door and opens it for you from the other side, his bright blue eyes staring back at you.

Your cat purrs and rubs against your leg like usual, and Daigo shuts the door behind you.

“Is it time to shower?” he asks as you walk to throw your bag on the counter, along with your keys, again.

“It is.” you answer, walking upstairs and to the bathroom.

As you enter the bathroom, the question suddenly stings your brain like a bee, and you swing around with such vigor that you see his eyes widen.

“What’s the problem?” he asks in a concerned tone. You look at him with your mouth gaping like a fish out of water, “You said you’ve always been here, right?” Your body begins to heat up.

“Yes?” he tilts his head to the side, confused.

“Have you seen me like... naked?”

His eyes crinkle.

“Perhaps.”

“Daigo!” you shout, slapping your hand against his arm, “Why would you do that?!”

“I don’t see the problem,” he growls, seemingly in defence from being hit all of a sudden.

“My body is very special to me!”

“Just take the shower.” he hisses, hands reaching to your top and tearing it with ease. Your boobs shake from the force and your hands fly to cover your breasts, despite still having your bra on. You shout his name again, and he just turns you around, reaching into the shower to put the water on, he does it just how you like it.

After that, he simply exits the bathroom, and you’re free to be as stunned as you want to. Once you recover, you take a shower.

Once you leave, you go into your room with the towel wrapped around your body before changing into your lounging clothes, and hop into bed.

Daigo phases through the wall and slithers into bed beside you. He curls into you, head above yours, with his arm over your waist. You squirm and he groans, “It’s sleeping time. Don’t move.”

You huff, “I’m trying to get used to you smothering me. You act so differently at night.”

He hums, “I do?”

“Yes,” you laugh, “You do.”

He presses his mask into your cheek and inhales your scent, “Get used to it.”

It’s been a few months since then. You’ve gotten used to Daigo being quiet in the day and clingy by night. Although recently, something has changed– something about Daigo’s changed.

You’ve noticed.

He stares at you for longer than usual, and his touches linger. You don’t know why they do, they just do. You feel strongly about him now as well; the thought of him being your attachment forever doesn’t make you fearful anymore, in fact, it makes you happy.

Tonight was the night it solidified the fact.

You’re lying in bed, he’s standing in the far corner, just staring at you.

“Daigo? What’s wrong?”

He takes a few steps forward, his body leaning over the bed and over your face– his face hovers over yours. His eyes looked pained, and his pupils are dilated, the black nearly engulfing the light blue you’re so used to.

“Daigo. What’s happening? You’re acting so weird.”

“I wish to engulf you.”

“Wha?” you make a confused sound, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout, “I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt me.”

He shakes his head with a huff, “That’s not what I mean.”

You suck in a sharp breath, his tone catching you off guard. It’s different from how he usually speaks to you.

“Then what do you mean, Daigo?”

“I want to ruin you.”

The silence lingers. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He climbs into the bed, body dipping right in between your legs with his eyes facing yours. You whisper his name against his mask, and he hums– you feel the vibrations when he presses his mask against your lips.

“Say you want me to ruin you—”

You sigh against him and melt into his body. “Say it,” the vibrations are sent to your core, straight to the heat between your legs, “Please.”

“Daigo– I,” you gasp when he rolls his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from himself, “I want you to ruin me.”

He leans his body backward and hooks his fingers underneath his mask, the gold on the side of his cheeks retracting into his skin as he removes his mask. Despite the dark room, you can tell he’s handsome.

You don’t get to dwell on it for too long before he presses his mouth against yours. He audibly groans into your mouth and lets his cold tongue fall into you. You whine and hold onto his shoulders, spreading your legs a bit as he presses his knee into your core.

“I want you,” he growls out between kisses, “I need you.” Your eyes roll back at the sheer amount of force he’s using to kiss you. It’s heated, like a volcano erupting. His hands slide up your stomach, underneath your shirt, and to your breasts.

You suck on his tongue as he kneads your left breast, his other hand pulling and rubbing circles around your perky nipple. His hands are hot, his whole body is hot. He hisses when you nip on his tongue, causing him to pull away for a gasp of air.

When he does, you can finally look at his face— black surrounds his eyes almost like a domino mask, except it’s built into his skin. You notice that his eyes aren’t white like humans; instead, the white around the blue is black.

“You’re staring.”

“I,” you’re cut off by him pulling on your nipples with a scoff, “I can’t help it.” you whine out.

He breathes heavily through his nose before pulling your shirt over your head. He ogles your breasts for a second before diving in. He bites at your nape, licking at your neck. He drags his tongue down the middle of your chest, sucking deep marks into your skin.

His tongue laps all the way over to your nipple, sucking on the areola before licking at your nipple. Fingertips pull at your other nipple, twisting left and right before pulling again.

“Oh my god, Daigo–” you moan out, grinding your clothed cunt against his knee.

He groans into your boob, “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” he growls.

Daigo pulls away from your body and adjusts his position, pulling you onto his lap. Now lying on his back, his hair falls messily over your pillow. You feel him fumble with something near his crotch, and it sounds like he’s ripping something off— the heat grows when you feel his heavy cock slap against your stomach.

“Rub against it.” he says in a breathy tone. “So fucking hard it hurts.” he hisses.

You oblige. Grinding your clothed pussy messily against his cock. You see his eyes roll back, the black engulfing them. His clawed hand rises up to your waist, thumb pulling at your shorts, smoothly tearing them. He reaches behind your ass to discard the torn material before using his other hand to press his swollen cock between your slick folds.

His tip rubs against your stomach as your pussy slides against his base, his balls grinding against the curve of your ass.

Your hands slide down his chest, to the tip of his dick to rub in circular motions as you grind against the rest of his dick. He sucks in a breath before bucking his hips upwards, “Put it inside–” he moans out, watching you bite your lower lip.

“Can I suck you off first?”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Daigo, please.”

He groans, sliding his hand through his hair, a few strands sticking to his sweat soaked skin, “Suck it after.”

He hooks his hands underneath your ass, lifting you until the tip of his cock prods at your soaked entrance. Your body is shaking in anticipation, his claws digging into the fat of your ass.

He lifts his hips, his cock not entering and slipping against your clit— you let out a small whine and grab ahold of his base to assist him.

“Is it gonna fit?” you breathe out, eyes flicking to his face to see his jaw tighten.

“I don’t care.”

He sighs for a moment, retracting what he said.

“I do care– I’ll just make it fit.”

The tip of his cock pushes at your entrance again. You place your left hand against his chest, using your right to hold his cock straight. You slowly sink down, feeling his thick dick stretching your hole. He hisses, the sheer warmth of your pussy overwhelming him.

It takes a few agonizing minutes before you finally get down to his base, feeling his bulbous tip poke and prod at your cervix.

“So–” he cuts himself off with a sharp intake of air, “So fucking tight.”

Your head is reeling, and you feel dizzy. “You’re too big, Daigo.”

“Please—” he groans, wrapping his hands around your waist, “Please, just fuck me.”

You whine, dragging your hips off his cock, to the tip before slowly going back down. You feel his cock twitch in your stomach, the usual scowl on his face rewritten by pleasure. You continue going slow, not noticing the way his eyebrows are knitted together in frustration.

“Faster.”

“Daigo–” you start, lips trembling, “Your dick is way too big for me.”

He groans, sitting up so that his chest is now pressed against yours, “Sit up a bit.” you listen and lift your ass up just slightly into the sky. He wraps his arms completely around your body, his hand digging into your ass cheek.

He slowly adjusts his position, now on his knees with his feet against his ass. You wrap your legs around his waist, still feeling his swollen dick twitching inside of you. He pulls his hips back, slowly pushing them forward.

You let out a slow whine, your hands digging into his shoulders. “I’m sorry if this hurts,” he moans against your ear, “Your pussy just feels too good.”

He slams his cock into your pussy, causing your eyes to swell up with tears– the tip of his dick bullying your cervix. The pleasure nearly overwrites the pain. Feeling his thick cock recklessly fucking into your cunt– it drives you crazy.

You can’t help the tears that stream down your face, your lips falling open as strings of moans escape.

He leans his head back once he hears you choke out a sob, his eyes searching your face for any amount of pain. He presses his lips against yours, drinking up all your broken sobs before mumbling against you, “Don’t cry– Please,”

You respond with a broken sob of his name. Each sob you make causes his dick to twitch, silently but surely pushing him toward his edge.

You feel the coil in your stomach. Muscles tensing as he fucks his cock into your spasming cunt. Your eyes roll back as he nips at your lips, licking up all the drool that spills from your gaping mouth.

“Squeezing me s’good. Pussy must fucking love me, she doesn’t want me to leave. Isn’t that right?” he growls into your lips, grinning when you stupidly nod against him, “That’s right,” he whispers, delivering a sharp smack to your ass, “This slutty pussy loves me.”

You whine out his name, “Daigoo– It’s too much,” you attempt to say, it comes out as babbling, but he still understands you nevertheless.

“I know, I know.” he sighs out, increasing the force in which he fucks you with. Your pussy squelches loudly, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. Your legs shake, heels digging into his back as he pierces into you.

The pressure keeps building, bubbling up into your stomach. Your cunt spasms, squeezes, trying to milk his cock. You’re so close to cumming that you can feel the fireworks dancing on your tongue, the pressure nearly hurting your stomach.

He presses his tongue against your cheek, licking up your salty tears– large fangs pressing against the fat of your cheek, “I feel it. You squeezing around me…” he breathes heavily against your skin. “Cum on me. Do it.”

He angles his dick just right so it slams against your sweet spot each time he thrusts. It doesn’t take you long before you’re pushed over the edge. It feels like an explosion, his hips rutting into you as you reach your release. White dots spray over your vision as your eyes roll back, and you babble out please, without even knowing what you’re asking for. His hand yanks your head back before he sinks his teeth into your neck. Squirt sprays from you in tiny spurts, splashing against his abdomen and coating his cock in even more of your juice.

You borderline shriek out his name, and he growls into your neck. His thrusts frantic as he chases his own high. He growls out a muffled ‘cumming’ into your neck before he thrusts; one, two, three, more times before emptying his sticky cum inside of you.

It seeps out, overflowing from your hole. You can feel it slide against your asshole, sticking to the insides of your thighs and bloating your stomach. It stains your sheets, and he makes a mental note to remind you to change them.

Your body is overwhelmed, feeling too full. You don’t realize that his cock still stands at full mass. He stays still inside you for a few minutes, just letting your sensitive pussy massage his dick— which unbeknownst to you, causes a few more spurts of cum to exit from his swollen tip.

“Take it out..” you whimper. He simply mumbles a quick, ‘sorry’ before laying you down on your back. Once he does, he spreads your legs and watches his cum spill from your used cunt.

He feels sort of bad for fucking you raw, but not really.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Sorta..” you reply slowly.

“Can you.. Still suck me off?”

You glance at him, squinting your eyes as your legs spasm from just him spreading them apart.

“Really? You’re asking me that after you just fucked the shit out of me?”

“I really would be grateful.” he gives the best kitten eyes that he learned from your cat, before you sigh heavily.

You place your hands on your face, before mumbling, “I’m not moving though.” He replies with a quick ‘ok’ before moving to be by your face, getting on his knees.

You move your hands to grab ahold of his already leaking cock, still seeing a frothy ring of cum around his base and some dripping from his balls. You place your hands around the base, slowly jacking him off before letting your tongue loll out from your mouth, licking circles around his tip.

He sighs, placing one hand on your boob and the other on your throat. You pull his tip into your mouth with ease, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Your mouth feels amazing too..”

Your lips twitch upward as you increase the speed of your hands, jacking him off in a circular motion as you lick beneath his tip and suck at the excess skin there.

His eyes roll backwards before landing back onto your face, his hand kneading into your breast before hesitantly, sliding down your body and to your sensitive pussy.

He dips two fingers into your hole to scoop out some of his cum, using it as lube to rub your puffy clit. You whine onto his cock, the vibrations shooting pleasure throughout his veins.

You take him deeper into your mouth, your hands bumping into your lips every now and then– you bob your head up and down his cock. He’s rewarding by seeing the outline of his cock in your cheeks.

He lets out a tiny groan, letting his head fall back.

“Gonna cum.” he sighs out, letting his head fall to the side to watch you attempt to swallow his cum. You definitely cannot swallow it all. He shoots spurts of sweet, candied cum down your throat. The taste is salty and sweet, almost like caramel. It sticks to the roof of your mouth and lingers on your taste buds. You pull back with a gasp as he continues shooting more and more of it over your body, your hands still working on his cock. It drips down your chin, seeps into your hair, and pools around your neck.

It dribbles from the tip of his cock as he attempts to catch his breath, eyes wild with lust.

You try to catch your breath too, “Why do you cum so much? It tastes different than I thought it would.”

He laughs for a second, wiping your eyes of the tears from earlier.

“Devil things, I suppose.”

You hum in response, his hands dipping underneath your body to pick you up.

He lays back onto his back and sits you directly on his face, instead of your pussy at his mouth– it’s your ass.

“Daigo– I really don’t think I can handle much more…” you whine, squirming as he licks at your hole, using his thumb to spread it a bit more.

“You can, for me. Bear it a little longer, please?”

“Daigo..” you sigh.

He continues doing what he wants. Sucking on your perky hole, extending his pointed tongue to lap up the mixture of your pussy juices on your ass and the taste of your hole. He presses his lips against it in a soft kiss before sucking on it again, the tip of his thumb rubbing the side of it as he pushes his tongue deeper and deeper.

His nose rubs against your other hole, feeling it cutely squeeze around his nose, almost like she still wants something inside her.

You can’t help but grind your ass down into his mouth, the feeling nearly overwhelming your senses again. He groans into your asshole, mumbling about how good you taste and how your body was made for him.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming again, grinding your ass against his face and fucking it on his tongue. He uses his hands to place you beside him on the bed, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“Was that too much?”

You giggle out, relaxing against the bed, face squished against his big arm, “You care a lot for a devil.”

His lips purse in a thin line, “I know, it’s only for you.”

You look up at his face in the darkness, raising your hand to lightly trace the darkness around his eyes, “I think..” you start.

“Yes?” he hums in response, his head leaning into your touch.

“I think I love you, Daigo.”

It lingers. Heavy. The thought of being rejected by this foreign object sinking into your chest like a knife, slowly but surely wounding you.

“Is that so?”

You nod into his arm, eyes full of worry as you watch his face. His lips curl into a soft smile, his hand caressing your hair.

“I believe I love you, too. Very much actually. More than I should. I would die for you— again.”

Your grin widens, and you nuzzle your face into his muscles, feeling him tense for a moment before relaxing again. “Stay attached to me forever, Daigo. I don’t want you to ever leave.”

“I won’t. I would never even dream of leaving you. I love you.” he says as he readjusts his position, wrapping his arms around you in an embrace, your face pressed against his chest.

“I won’t let anyone or anything tear us apart, even if it causes the Earth to collapse. I love you.”

He loves me. He loves you. The devil is in love with you, and you fell in love with a devil.

[audreyscribes]

PJO ROMAN DEMIGOD HUNTRESS HEADCANONS:🌕 DIANA: GODDESS OF THE HUNT, MOON, WOODLANDS, AND CHILDBIRTH 🏹

Author’s Note: Diana following right after Apollo here we goooo. This one is going to be very similar to the Artemis headcanons but there are some twists after I did some research on Diana and made some conclusions. The Huntresses are going to eat good today! ROMAN DEMIGODS H/CS MASTERLIST LINKS: [TUMBLR] // [AO3]

Alright, unlike Apollo, there are some differences that Diana has with Artemis. For one thing, Diana is considered a triple deity; a deity with three forms that function as an entire whole, with Diana merged with Luna/Selene, and the underworld, Hecate. (this also applies vise-versa with Hecate’s roman aspect, Trivia), so Diana is witchcraft associated with not only Hecate, but also Nyx, and Erebeus.

So when the Huntresses of Diana and Artemis merge, the latter have a bit of an adjustment to get used to. While they both serve the same goddess with the same values and oaths, and in turn there’s less of a conflict compared to the Greeks and Roman merge, it’s still something to get used to.

So with Diana being a goddess of crossroads (kinda), you often find promising hunteress or those seeking Diana/Artemis’ help at crossroads, if not looking for Hecate/Trivia.

While Diana and Artemis are two separate beings, sort of, it’s not as severe when among her huntresses. She’s not as coherent like Apollo, but it’s something.

As huntresses, magic is more of an applied skill now. There was always magical elements when you hunt, but its very everyday with your parkas, your tents, and the like, with Diana, it’s more incorporated. Using and chanting spells, bestowing blesses and curses, and healing and hurting are part of your skills as much as tracking and your archery skills.

Speaking of magic, you’ll find yourself in more contact with more diverse people. Not just magical folk, but also those who respect and pray to Diana, Hecate, among other gods. Those who practise Wicca are one of  those among those folks, and they are often times happy to invite your goddess and the hunters into their home and allowing you brief hospitality. In times, they’ve also helped when required and in turn often alert you and the huntresses of any dangers or evils they have seen.

Since Diana is considered a triple deity, associated with other gods like Hecate, Nyx, Erebus, and Selene/Luna, as part of the practice, the hunteress observe moon viewing parties or participate in nightly rituals. What those rituals are exactly no one knows except for a true hunteress of Diana/Artemis, but what I can tell you is that it involves the moon, its phases, offerings. I’ve said too much but only the night and moon knows. Don’t pry or let anyone uninvited know; the wild forest is already dangerous but now its a magical, wild forest; if you’re not careful, you’ll be lucky to just get lost or be turned into a deer. 

[maximilliansblog]

Welcome Home Hyacinth Theory 🏠🪻🐛

Hello Tumblr! Most Welcome Home theories are just little bits and pieces or “Wally is evil, guys look!”/”Wally is not evil! He is a goober!” etc.

This theory is fully fledged and provides a plot and evidence. I call it the Welcome Home “Hyacinth” theory, after the myth that it is based on. This will be a very long post so here is a TLDR: Julie kills Eddie while they are playing croquette-bowling out of jealousy because he is getting too close to Frank, who is supposed to be her boyfriend/best friend within the show. Either just Eddie or everyone involved gets replaced, except for Wally, who witnessed everything. This is why we have all of those videos of Wally dissociating.

I have been sitting around in my toom rambling to myself about this theory like a madman for over a week so I decided to share it.

Please reference this post from @/partycoffin (the creator of Welcome Home) when discussing Welcome Home and be respectful in the comments and reblogs.

Extra information from @theneighborhoodwatch:

Welcome Home Observation Document

Welcome Home Livestream Trivia

Welcome Home Archive Links + Backup Screenshots

Fanmade Welcome Home Wiki (I don't recommend the Fandom wiki)

Extra information on exploring the website from @angel-lyah:

Welcome Home Website Secrets

Alright, let’s get into it! I have evidence to back up every single one of those claims, and I will include it in this post.

I want to be very thorough with explaining this. I’ll start by establishing that there are three main plots within Welcome Home (that I have noticed, anyways):

The plot of the late 60’s - early 70’s TV show, Welcome Home - only related to published episodes, books, audios, etc. that would have been shown to the public at the time of airing Welcome Home

“Behind the show” - feelings and actions of the puppets outside of the show (such as Frank and Eddie being a couple, or Frank being nonbinary)

The Welcome Home Restoration Project - people working to restore the TV show, Welcome Home, and find any and all information related to it and who made it

Okay so for the rest of this essay, when I mention BtS, it is related to the “behind the show” plot. I will color these things blue. When I write WtS, it is related to the “within the show” plot. I will color these things green. When I write WHRP, it is related to the Welcome Home Restoration Project. I will color these things pink. I will also mention things that have been said either on Clown’s Tumblr blog, Clown’s Twitter, or old streams. I will say CS, meaning “Clown source” to denote these things and color them orange. Clown source and behind the show areas often overlap, so Clown source information is dominant over behind the show information (if it is both I will just color it orange). Good? Good.

Now let’s establish our characters (only the ones related to this theory) and their relationships to one another. We’ll go alphabetically, starting with Eddie, then moving onto Frank, Julie, and Wally. 

I’m going to assume that if you are reading this, you have already visited the website (clownillustration.com) and have a basic understanding of who Eddie is. So I will only focus on the elements of his character that will be relevant in this theory.

Eddie (WtS) is clumsy and overworks himself. He is often dragged into Julie’s games. His house (post office) looks like this:

Note the hyacinth flowers and the butterfly. Eddie (BtS) loves Frank. (CS) He is married to Frank in one art on Clown’s Tumblr. BY THE WAY IT TOOK FOREVER TO FIND THIS IMAGE!!!! THEY ARE IN THE BOTTOM LEFT CORNER!!

Frank (WtS) is Julie’s boyfriend as it is implied that they are a couple within the show (I know a lot of us don’t like hearing this, but remember the three plots) (also for everyone that is going to argue with me on this, go look on their little profiles in the neighborhood section of the website and come back to me) and best friend. His house looks like this:

Note the sunflowers. Frank (BtS) loves Eddie.

(CS) As I said before, in one art on Clown’s Tumblr, Eddie and Frank are married (you can tell by the rings on their fingers in that image) . Frank is nonbinary but uses he/him pronouns (Clown refers to Frank on his blog with only he/him pronouns, so that is what I will use. Nonbinary people do not have to use they/them pronouns! Pronouns are not equal to gender!)

(WtS) Julie is a rainbow monster. Her thing is that she likes to make up and play games. She seems to be very strong (perhaps related to her being a rainbow monster), as she can easily lift Wally and is indirectly referenced to [throw a baseball very well] by Barnaby in the Live Interview audio. She also incorporates bowling into a lot of games where it is unnecessary. She seems to be immature, which is usually used to make her a playful character. Her and Frank are a couple. In several arts, her horns are different shapes or even nonexistent, implying that she has some ability to change her form. Her house looks like this:

Note the heart motif throughout the design. (BtS) Julie is best friends with Frank. (CS) She is genderfluid (she is only referred to using she/her pronouns on Clown’s blog, so that is what I will use). 

(WtS) Wally is the main character in Welcome Home. His house is alive and is named Home. Home is often considered to be a ninth neighbor. Wally often communicates for Home. (WHRP) Wally signs Home’s name in the guestbook (as Home does not have hands) (please stop with the tentacles I have seen the art please stop for the love of god where did that even come from). (WtS) The other neighbors frequently ignore and talk over Wally, but he doesn’t seem to mind, saying that he loves all of his friends in the live interview audio.

Okay so now that that is established, let’s look at some promotional art. Promotional art is not necessarily canon and may contain outdated designs, but may hint at the plot of Welcome Home. 

There is one more artwork that I would like to add, but it is on Clown’s KoFi. Here is a link to it that you can look at if you are subscribed to Clown’s KoFi:

[link to Clown’s KoFi here]

I won’t describe the image because some of you may not be subscribed to Clown’s KoFi. But if you are, you will see that the image supports my theory.

While we are discussing that image, I would also like to say that I believe that the puppets are some kind of biological organisms. I don’t have much evidence for this right now, but I may make a theory in the future. 

We will come back to those promotional arts soon. Right now, let’s look at Frank and Eddie’s houses and discuss some symbolism and mythology.

Frank’s house has sunflowers outside of it. Sunflowers are a symbol of Apollo. Eddie has hyacinths outside of his post office, obviously a symbol of Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus and Apollo were lovers, but Hyacinthus tragically died. Let me tell the story so we have context. (I am really into Greek mythology by the way, it’s always been a special interest since middle school but I am also a Hellenic pagan, you should follow my witchcraft and paganism blog, creatively named @maxiswitchcraftandpaganblog)

So Apollo, god of the sun, art, archery, and LOTS of various other things, loved Hyacinthus, who was a mortal Spartan man. And Hyacinthus loved him too, by the way. The god of the (west? don’t feel like googling it) wind, Zephyrus, was jealous of Hyacinthus, because he also loved Apollo. 

One day, Apollo and Hyacinthus were playing discus (like frisbee but the frisbee is giant and made of metal, kind of like a shield). Apollo threw the discus to Hyacinthus, but Zephyrus blew the discus off course with the wind, causing it to hit Hyacinthus in the head and kill him. Apollo created the hyacinth flower from Hyacinthus’ blood as he died, but in some myths made him a god. (read more on Apollo and Hyacinthus here)

I’m going to draw some parallels here. Frank = Apollo, Eddie = Hyacinthus, Julie = Zephyrus. Now Frank’s and Eddie’s parallels make sense because of the flowers, but where did I get Julie=Zephyrus from? Recall that (WtS) Julie and Frank are supposed to be a couple. Now, (BtS) Julie may or may not like Frank in that way, but she certainly enjoys being close to him as his best friend. Since she is already established as an immature character, it would make sense that she would be jealous seeing Frank get closer to Eddie.

Pause. So WtS, Frank and Julie are together. BtS, Frank and Eddie are together. If these are separate, then what is Julie jealous about? (WtS) Frank has been seen getting closer to Eddie even in the official material of the show. An example of this is him telling Eddie that he works too hard at the end of the “Eddie’s Big Lift” storybook record. So his BtS love for Eddie is leaking into the WtS canon. That is a problem for Julie, who is supposed to be Frank’s girlfriend WtS. So she comes up with an idea to fix this, much like the jealous god, Zephyrus. 

So what does she do? Let’s turn our attention to the “Just So” song demo. This song was never finished with instrumentals, and for a reason. The puppets function as actors in the show, as it is obvious that they have their own free will, and Julie does something that the writers do not expect later in this episode. So the song was never finished because the episode was ruined. 

In the “Just So” song demo, Frank and Julie are about to play croquette bowling. It was supposed to be just croquette, as Frank put on his croquette bow tie, but last minute, Julie added bowling to the mix. 

Wally knocks on the door and interrupts their song, saying that Home wants to play croquette bowling too. This implies that Julie told someone else that they would be playing croquette bowling after she added bowling. I feel like Wally and Home overheard Julie telling Eddie that they would be playing croquette bowling. This would make sense, as Wally often stands by and listens while the other neighbors talk. It is not unusual for Eddie to participate in Julie’s games, either, as we see from Julie playing “business woman in the big city” with him. [add a photo]

The song recording ends before we see them playing croquette bowling together. But I have a piece of evidence to tell us how it ends. Look at this promotional art again.

You probably assumed that the figure in the back was holding a hammer, but that could actually be a croquette mallet!

It’s covered in some gory-looking stuff, probably from Eddie. Now look at the flower. Whose eyes look like that? Almond-shaped, round pupils. Only one character: Wally. Wally was a witness, which would make sense for him, since he often watches on as the other neighbors do things. 

Julie is holding the flower in front of her, looking innocent. This is a stretch, but I think that this might be symbolism for her saying that she didn’t do it on purpose, Wally saw the whole thing, ask him! And Wally doesn’t know what to do. I don’t know what he does from there.

Maybe this image is a clue? I genuinely don’t know. Once again, promotional art is not necessarily canon, but we can use the concepts from it in theories.

This next part is also a bit of a stretch. The neighbors having a memory of something like that happening would ruin their “acting” (I think they are just being recorded as they do what they would naturally do). The show can’t have that. The solution? Replace everyone involved. 

Now go back and look in the promotional art section and look at that art of Frank. It looks like Frank is laying among extra puppet parts. They have extras!

And this is why Wally is dissociating in the videos we see when we click on the bugs. They did not replace him, because like the neighbors, they didn’t even notice he was there.

Okay yeah that’s the theory. It was really hard to get this into a coherent Google Doc and gather all the links. I was just rambling to myself about this in my room over and over pacing around for like a week. But yeah here you go, hope it's a good theory, sorry if it's not lol please be nice to me

[kmomof4]

12 (Actually 13) Days of Captain Swan Fic Recs !!!

And we are back with Day 5 of my 12 (Actually 13) Days of CS Fic Recs with another writer that I found in my very early days of fan fiction reading, @whimsicallyenchantedrose!! Jen is the absolute QUEEN of fluff and her fics are my go to when I need my spirits lifted.

She is also the final co-writer of our Girls Vacay Fics, so once again, those fics are at the top of my list of favorites of her fics!! And included in that series, is the fic she wrote last year for her travel companions bdays - mine, @jrob64, and @snowbellewells, then ending with her bday last April - The Girls' Trip Fairy Tale Ending - Rated T - Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry. He gives them an each a gift--an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it.

And boy did we ever fix those scenes!!! A&E REALLY should have hired us as writers for the show...

But now to the rest of Jen's fics that I've read multiple times over the years.

A Pirate's Christmas Carol - Rated G - CS Christmas Future Fic. With only a month to go before the birth of his and Emma Swan’s first baby, Killian begins to fear he doesn’t have what it takes to be a good father. Three ghosts—from Killian’s past, present and future help him see that he is ready for the adventure that is fatherhood.

The Girl That I Adore - Rated T - Emma wakes from a nightmare one night and finds her husband, Killian Jones, missing from their bed. Emma has a pretty good idea where to find him. Another beautiful blonde has captured his heart-and Emma couldn't be happier.

Until the Stars Are All Alight - Rated T - Written for CSSNS19. CS LOTR au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

Under the Apple Tree - Rated T - An Outlaw Queen fic, Jen wrote this one during the summer between s6&7. This fic gave me my OQ happy ending, so it had to be included in the list.

After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin is transported to Seattle, unable to return to any magical realm. When it becomes clear he has no way to return to his family, Robin finally decides to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry. Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again.

Taking Back Neverland - Rated T - Originally written as a part of Jen's Fluffy Fridays Collection, this fic takes the Neverland arc from the show and puts a FABULOUS twist on it!!

After actress Emma Swan's lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. Only problem? She'll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can't stand.

By Land or Sea Series - Rated T - A canon divergent series after 3x11.

A new villain has invaded the Enchanted Forest-the wicked witch of the west, but she is nothing but the lackey of a far greater evil. When Captain Hook hears of an ancient prophecy that details the defeat of the new villain, he knows the prophecy refers to him and Emma. Can he find Emma? Can he restore her memories and make her fall in love with him before it's too late?

And finally, as an Honorable Mention, I can't call Jen the Queen of Fluff and not mention her Fluffy Friday collection. Started as a way to combat the angst left by the s4 finale, the collection now stands at 176 chapters of the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. I hope you enjoy all these! See you tomorrow for Day 6!!!

[brucethegirl]

I've been reading a lot of fics lately, I want to read more. But here's some of my favorites I've read recently:

Complete

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke

Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. AU Dark Hook in original curse

Make A Wish

Stuck in the Enchanted Forest after her wish was granted, Emma seeks out Killian. She doesn't expect what she finds. Canon divergence from 6x11 on

Christmas Wars: A New Hope

The last thing Emma Swan expects when she shows up for her sister's destination Christmas wedding is to find an irresistible groomsman with all the right looks and all the wrong opinions - about everything. But there's something beneath the bickering, something a lot softer than it seems on the surface, and Emma and Killian both find a new hope after heartbreak and loss. AU contemporary

No More Interruptions

She hadn't seen him in five years. Five years since her parents had interrupted them when they both had been on the cusp on moving beyond just being friends. Five years of wondering if he ever thought of her or even cared anymore. Now it was her birthday and he was back, making her question everything. (Captain Swan AU, Lieutenant Duckling verse. One-Shot)

Breathless

Emma and Killian share more than just a heart. Smut that turns really emotional and intense trauma discussion Canon divergent season 5.

The Legend of Captain Killian Jones

Cursed three hundred years ago to take on ghost form and haunt his family estate, Killian Jones receives a reprieve once every hundred years to take on corporeal form in order to try and break his curse. A renowned restorationist, Emma Swan takes on the project of bringing the three hundred year old Jones Manor back to its former glory. A manor that is reportedly haunted by the notorious Captain Killian Jones. Good thing Emma doesn’t believe in ghosts. AU Contemporary and ghosts

A Case of You

A "Practical Magic" AU in which Killian is a twice-cursed witch who's home after a murder, Emma is a single mom and deputy that's new to town, and their paths cross in ways they never expected.

A Gentleman Never Tells

Right after saving Henry in Neverland, Pan puts Emma under a Sleeping Curse that only romantic love can break. Hook's kiss wakes her, but in the confusion of the moment, it appears to everyone else, including Emma, that it was Neal's kiss that woke her. As the group celebrates and Hook empties his flask alone, he can't help thinking it is better this way.

Incomplete

When I Saw Your Face

Emma escapes the castle at night to experience the kingdom she will one day, reluctantly, rule and meets a pirate captain who might be more than he seems. AU princess/pirate

like if cleopatra grew up in a small town

Henry needs a dad. That's fine. Emma can deal with that. The problem? Neal wants more. The second problem? Emma keeps running into Hook and, despite trying to keep it friendly between them, finds herself falling in love.

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be

After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS Movie Divergence

Darkness Will Be Rewritten

A delay of five minutes can alter someone's destiny entirely. Imagine what a delay of eighteen years might do. The first eighteen years of Emma's life is a black void. And after ten years of having no memories for those years, a boy shows up at her door, claiming he's her son. He takes her to Storybrooke and she finds herself staying, trying to deny the connection she feels not only to the boy, but also to the fisherman he hangs out with that smells like rum and has eyes that remind her of a home she can't even remember. (While this is complete, the sequel is not)

To Read

Uncharted Neverland

Princess Emma swan saviour to her people is trapped in a dangerous island with no escape, were she meets Captain Hook known pirate, his mission is to find a lost fortune on the uncharted island, this treasure may also hold the key to escaping Neverland. CS AU princess/pirate

[shinglescat]

With all its faults, i enjoyed the story of Stalker 2. It feels like home.

After 2nd pt, I grew to love Faust, easily one of the most memorable and iconic characters of the franchise. I still wish monolith and ex-monolith had more screentime besides being the go-to adversaries for exploration shootouts. The few quests they had are not enough, especially given the tragedy of Strider and his entire group. I'm still not over his death, he of all people in the franchise deserves better. The way he tried to shoot himself right after the Signal went off broke my heart. And the death scene, where he's free of monolith influence again, realizing he nearly killed Skif........................

Surprised by Korshunov, like super surprised. First time i did Varta-Varta-Strider-Strelok-Doctor (i also did permutations of the last two to see the three other endings), and this time I did Spark-Spark-Varta-Strelok-Doctor. I expected him to be a typical soldier bossman, someone who would betray me and who would try to off me, but nothing like that, and he actually respects Skif and does not consider him to be a meat on legs. He's very convincing, menacing but not evil, likable also. The "i can't even bury them" speech hit right in the heart - he's got his men at the top of his priorities, and it's a breath of fresh air to see a military man in a media to not think of his subordinates as of disposable.

Dalin Jr. is the same revelation. I thought he'd be a scumbag, a scientist without morals, another trickster, but nope, man with a heart of gold following after his not so good father. Feeling a bit guilty for not trusting him the entire time the first playthrough. I laughed my ass off during that one section at the institude where Korshunov casually watched Skif assault Dalin, as if it's a regular occurence at the place.

Scar is one big holy shit. I both love him and hate him. He's definitely not something i thought him to be from Clear Sky, but he's entertaining nonetheless. He is actually the ruthless and crazy motherfucker i believed Korshunov to be, with absolute fuck all about human lives. Proper terrorist. And his S2 story tying with CS - i can't help but pity him, groomed to be used as a modem by people with power.

Separate mention to Spark's Star. The guy had at most 10 minutes of screentime total, but he's got some real good chemistry with Skif.

Richter is a whole nother beast. He's like an autistic golder retriever puppy. Jesus, man, just kiss Skif already, you aren't gonna see him ever again anyway.

I swear, if the game was less depressing, Skif, Richer and Star could be boyfriends.

Strelok is everything i thought he'd be and would become. Definitely didn't disappoint, tho at one point i questioned where tf he got so much money hiring all those mercs lmao. He definitely had his brain scorched with an idea, but he's somehow still rational about everything else. Clever, stubborn in his ways, rigid, unable to see thru some subtler parts.

Really glad to meet Doctor proper after so many years. He's everything I expected him to be and more. What I didn't expect is him throwing heavy as fuck lines constantly, making me question every single step.

Degtyarov... had crininally little time after introduction. Certified badass tho.

Oh my god Agatha the bitch. This is the ruthless person I believed Dalin to be. The Varta ending is easily THE BAD one because of who she is, who she is serving and what their plans are, though not even remotely as depressing as Scar's. The old hag had my homie Korshunov follow her without any doubt. Ugh I wish there was a way to knock some sense into him....

For the Varta ending, Strelok literally says they're going to use the Thread project for something during that one infiltration mission with the TVs, but he doesn't know exactly what for. I followed Korshunov's reasoning and logic that the Zone is to be destroyed, but somehow, i disregarded Agatha completely. And then the ending hit me. Ye, the Zone is gone, but something far more sinister is in its place, with project X finished after so many years and its goals fulfilled. And those TVs at the end, being creepy. Nah, never picking that one again.

The Scar ending is easily the most depressing one. First Korshunov kills Richter, but then turns out that O-Soznanie is legit and exists in the subtle matter, and Dalin is ecstatic to finally be able to talk to his father. And then the O-Soz representative sends you to the generators, and it's surprisingly peaceful and not dangerous at all, rainbows everywhere, and you chill near the blue campfires under emissions with your now suddenly alive-but-not-really Richter and other dead homies from the subtle matter (Strider is suspiciously absent), and Richter shows you the way like a fucking disney princess. And you think, hey, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. WRONG. You get to the X-lab, and Scar is having a life crisis cuz his entire life in the Zone was a lie, his memories have been imprinted from another stalker, and he himself was programmed for this exact job, but then he comes thru and decides to go into the fish tank anyway. And then it's butterflies, poppies, unicorn farts everywhere, all dead people are alive, and Skif be having a grand time of his life chatting with homies.... UNTIL THE FUCKEN CAMERA SHIFTS, and turns out it's all in his head. Yeah no, never again.

The Strelok ending is probably a good one. Or at least neutral. He gives his reasoning, he tells everyone to fuck off, he prohibits exit and enter into the Zone, and he's now the entity guarding her like a loyal dog. The Zone supposedly (because let's face it, this balding mofo's in charge now) has no masters anymore, no one can abuse her ever again, but she's not free either. Tho it's kinda a weird one with him. He wanted the Zone gone, but now he put her under his own protectorate? I mean, it's been 10 years, a man can change, but... would be interesting to hear a more elaborate explaination than "she gave me a new life" or smth.

And then the Doctor ending. Some say it's a bad one, but I really do love it the most. I knew i wouldn't be able to kill him as Strelok wanted, and he gives very compelling arguments against Strelok's crusade... and you spare Doc, run to hide into the basement of his house from the emission... only to find more notes down there, talking about the O-Soz agents and him using them and scaners and alpha-artifacts for something... makes you question if he wasn't the mastermind behind all this. Maybe even his couriers were behind the explosion at Skif's khrushovka. Maybe it was a setup to bring an outsider to make his plan come true. And then, at the end, as the Zone finally frees herself of her shackles, expanding worldwide (i doubt it's an actual expansion, more like local anomalies appearing worldwide), Doc morphs into Faust and makes you question the entire Doctor's story. Was it Faust the whole time? Was he not killed by Skif? Is he a manifestation, an illusion? Was it Faust himself that is the mastermind behind all this? And then remember that reactivated monolith-Strider tried to kill doctor. Was it a coincidence? Was it a command to kill Doctor Kaymanov by O-Soz, was it a command by O-Soz to kill Faust while pretending to be Doctor because he's sorta gone rogue/against his original program, or was it a command by Faust himself to get Skif to trust the illusion?

And the awesome part is that all of the endings-related parties are right about their respective things.

This is the game narrative-wise I wanted Veilguard to be tbh. But here I am, left alone to geek out about stalker 2 instead. Oh and in this game they drop some serious lines, most notably Doctor, as I mentioned above. His "But how does one know the value of freedom if one has never been free?" hit me like a truck. Strider's monologue after his death about monolithians being puppets brings tears to the eyes.

Ugh, this makes me think what kinda ending woulda been if Strider was alive and still himself, if he went into the aquarium instead of everyone else.

Oh by the way, the Faust theme, 0:40 - 0:50, I swear I can hear "let me out". Not creepy at all, but checks out.

TL:DR i want more monolithian stuff, i want justice for my bestie Strider AND I want a romance-dating DLC because Richter and Star are definitely boyfriend materials for Skif lmao.

[tyrantisterror]

Since your Wizard School Mysteries series contains a lot of references to HP (and because of your relationship with Christianity) I would like to ask for your opinion on an idea of mine to write a book thats meant to be a riff on the works of CS Lewis-mostly Narnia, but also The Space Trilogy.

The idea I have is that a group of kids are transported into a fantasy world ruled by an immortal god-queen who tells them they are needed to vanquish a great evil to save the world, but during their stay the children soon realize that the god-queen isn't telling them the entire truth and that the real solution to save the world is one they have to discover themselves.

Basically, in my story questioning the god-like figure is presented as a good thing, I see rich narrative potential in having a god-like figure being proven wrong by a bunch of normal kids.

Also, one major antagonist the god-queen's sister is a stand-in for Jadis, and rather than being an one-dimensional evil enemy she's an anti-villain doing what she thinks is right, just like her "good" sister.

As for The Space Trilogy, basically theyre the result of Lewis taking up the challenge of writing a sci-fi story, they're set in a world where planets in the solar system are inhabited by sapient species that unlike humanity are incapable of evil because they haven't "fallen".

In one of the books the protagonist is sent to Venus to prevent the Venusian Eve from being tempted by Satan and causing the Fall, and enters philosophical debates with Satan until deciding using his fists is the correct solution.

In contrast, I want my story to use The Fall as a metaphor for growing up, becoming independent from your parents and thus not inherently a bad thing.

However, I haven't read the Narnia books in their entirety nor the Space Trilogy, and can currently only go by so I'm afraid that I can't successfully do a Narnia/Space Trilogy rebuttal without reading the books.

Can you give me your opinion in this department?

Ok before I answer the question I have to clarify that Wizard School Mysteries does not actually contain a lot of references to Harry Potter. What few references it does make are mainly used to underline that it's going to be a very different story. The Hogwarts Express gets metaphorically derailed by the midpoint of chapter three, it's its own thing.

That said - I think what you're pitching is a valid jumping off point. I don't think it's bad that you haven't read the entirety of the book series that inspired this idea - if anything, it's probably helpful since you're less likely to be derivative if you take the spark of an idea you saw unexplored in them and take it in your own idea. Like, going back to WSM, I didn't set out deciding to make a parody/satire of Harrpy Potter, but just a mystery solving teens story with my own spin. I just realized my own spin had some surface level similarities to HP and decided to lean into the skid and have fun with that while still going my own way - and I think that's a lot more interesting than a strict parody.

Plus I could never outdo Wizard People, Dear Reader, the best parody of Harry Potter ever told.

[wholoveseggs]

next parrtttttt plzZzzzzzZZZZZzzz of gardener

The Gardener {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Things come to a head when you decide to confront the Mikaelsons, before your magic consumes you.

♡♡ Sorry for the slow progress on this one! I hope ya'll enjoy the ending! ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: little bit of smut, lots of violence, Klaus being Klaus, more brother fighting, Elijah down bad, lots of magical hijinks and lots of death..????...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton@wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp @sweetieseven

The building was a ruin, a pile of rubble, and the ground was covered in vines and roots, spreading out and delving deep into the ground. The street was cracked and broken, and the air was thick with the smell of death and decay.

Wolves, witches and any other enemy to the vampires were clambering over the ruins, hacking away at the wood, taking whatever they could.

Maeve was giddy, stumbling around cheering and encouraging the rabble. You watched her hack off a smaller branch and start whittling at it with a dagger, laughing and dancing around.

"Take as much as you can! Don't stop!" She shouted, a feral grin on her face.

She handed off her newly made stake to one of the wolves, who looked at it, confused.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" He asked, his brow furrowing.

"Stab a fucking vampire!" She yelled, and then turned back to her task, snapping off another branch.

You were watching from afar, sitting on the curb, your mind still reeling. You couldn't believe it. They were all gone.

Agnes, Beatrice, Ava, Liza, the coven, all of your friends, gone. But you could still feel their magic inside you, their essence lingering. It made you sick, the way it made you feel powerful, but it also filled you with guilt.

"This is the best day of my life," Maeve said, skipping over to you, her arms laden with branches.

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes, definitely," she said, dropping her load on the ground, her eyes alight with joy, "it's not every day that you destroy a thousand year old evil and become a god."

"You're not a god," you said, shaking your head.

"Oh but I am," she said, her smile growing, "and so are you! Can't you feel it? The power, the energy, the magic, it's all ours now, the city is ours!"

She was practically vibrating with excitement, and you couldn't help but smile.

"It is pretty amazing," you admitted, looking up at the giant tree, "but I can't believe they're all gone."

Maeve's expression grew somber and she sat down next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

"I know," she said, squeezing you close, "but it's okay. We all knew the risks, and we all did this together. They'll be watching over us, guiding us."

You nodded, sniffling and wiping the tears from your face.

"I didn't think I would make it, honestly," she said, letting out a soft laugh, "I was so sure I was gonna die, I didn't think I was strong enough, or smart enough. But I did, and I'm here, and now, we're gonna win."

You looked at her, a smile tugging at your lips, and then a werewolf jumped onto the curb, brandishing his new stake.

"I dedicate this stake to Klaus Mikaelson! The great abomination!" He bellowed, and the crowd of vengeful rabble cheered, pumping their fists and screaming. "I shall sink it into his heart and watch the life drain from his eyes!”

The group erupted into roars and cheers, and the werewolf ran off, the crowd following him, chanting and howling.

"That werewolf is too stupid to realize he's dead already," Maeve said, shaking her head.

"Then why give them the stakes?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because they need to feel useful," she said, shrugging. "And maybe there is a chance, like throwing a bunch of darts at a dart board. Who knows? Maybe one will hit the bullseye."

"Maybe," you said, staring up at the giant tree. "It's up to us though, isn't it? To finish this, to kill Klaus."

"Yep," Maeve said, smiling. "Then the rest of them… Including Elijah....," she trailed off, giving you a sideways glance.

"Yes, Maeve," you said, rolling your eyes, "I know."

"Do you?" She asked, her tone growing serious.

"Yes, and I'm fine. I don't- ....I won't let my feelings cloud my judgment," you said, holding her gaze.

"They died for this, Agnes, sweet Bea...," her eyes welled up with tears, "they gave their lives for this. I need to know, if it comes down to him or us, which will you choose?"

You hesitated, her words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You looked away, trying to avoid her stare, but she grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her.

"Choose."

"I will choose freedom from oppression always," you said, your voice low. "Even if it means killing him."

She studied your face, searching for any hint of a lie, and then nodded, letting go of your chin.

"I know we've never exactly been close... But it's just us, you and me now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've got your back, and you've got mine. Right?"

"Right."

She smiled and stood up, stumbling a little as she dusted herself off, looking around at the wreckage and all the people grabbing branches and chunks of wood.

"We don't have long, I don't think we can hold this magic forever. Not if we want to live," she said, turning back to you. "That means we have to go now," she nodded towards the tree.

"Now? Like right now?" You asked, surprised.

"Yeah, why not?" She said, shrugging, "we're going up against the biggest, baddest, most powerful vampire ever, the element of surprise is the only advantage we have. So, let's use it."

"I just thought, I don't know, we would have more time," you said, running your fingers through your hair.

"More time for what? More time for us to lose our nerve? To think about certain suit wearing obstacles? We gotta act now, while we can," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

You sighed, knowing she was right, knowing that there was no point in thinking about anything else. You couldn't save him, you had sacrificed too much for this already, it had to be worth it.

You stood up, giving her a small nod.

"Alright, let's do this."

The city was under siege, the French Quarter on fire. Werewolves had returned to the streets, attacking vampires left and right, their stakes at the ready. Witches were casting spells, creating traps and ambushes, luring vampires into their clutches.

It was chaos, the kind that Klaus usually relished, but this was different. This wasn't fun. He was being hunted, and he could feel the rage bubbling beneath the surface, the urge to destroy everything in his path.

“Niklaus!" Elijah's voice cut through the noise, and Klaus turned to see his brother rushing towards the entrance to the compound.

Marcel stumbled inside, covered in blood, a werewolf bite on his neck and a stake sticking out of his back. Elijah caught him, helping him to his feet.

"What the bloody hell is going on out there?" Klaus demanded, grabbing Marcel's shoulders and shaking him.

"Witches," Marcel said, gasping for air, the werewolf venom burning through his veins.

Elijah pulled the stake out of Marcel's back, guiding him to a sofa. Klaus watched them, his eyes narrowed.

"Witches are causing this?" He asked, his anger growing, "they're the ones responsible for the chaos in the Quarter?"

"Not just the Quarter, the whole city," Marcel said, wincing.

Klaus let out a sigh and bit down on his wrist, offering his blood to Marcel. Marcel hesitated, his eyes meeting Klaus'.

"Just take it, Marcel," Klaus said, his patience waning.

Marcel took Klaus' wrist, drinking the blood. The wound healed and the venom was neutralized, leaving Marcel weak and exhausted.

"What had made them so bold? Why now?" Klaus asked, pacing the room.

"Maybe it had something to do with this," Elijah said, his voice oddly quiet, and Klaus looked over at his brother, his gaze falling on the wooden stake.

"Is that?" He started to ask, but the words died on his lips.

"White oak," Elijah finished, holding it out to him.

Klaus stared at it, his expression completely blank, like his brain couldn't process what he was seeing.

"Impossible," he whispered, taking the stake.

"Apparently not," Elijah said, and Klaus could hear the fear in his voice.

"Where did this come from?" He asked, his hands shaking, he looked at Marcel, who was slowly getting up off the sofa.

"The wolves were the ones who attacked me," Marcel said, rubbing the spot where the stake had pierced him. "I killed a couple of them, but the rest fled. I think they are planning on attacking you,”

Klaus' eyes darkened and he stormed out of the room, the stake still in his hand. Elijah quickly chased after him, catching up to him before he exited the compound.

"Niklaus, wait," Elijah said, grabbing his brother's arm.

Klaus stopped and turned to face Elijah, his eyes filled with fury.

"They will pay for this," he growled, his grip tightening on the stake.

"There could be more out there," Elijah said, his eyes pleading, "we need to regroup, to plan, we cannot rush into this."

"You expect me to do nothing?" Klaus hissed, his anger rising. "You think I'll stand by and let my home burn? That I'll let these insolent fools threaten my family?"

"If they get to us, our sirelines go with us, you know that," Elijah said, his expression steely.

Klaus growled, his eyes flashing yellow, he hated feeling hopeless, stuck, weak.

"So what do you propose?" He spat, his words dripping with venom. "You want me to sit and wait for the axe to fall?"

"We need to stay here, let the vampires and werewolves handle each other," Elijah said, keeping his voice steady.

"It's not the wolves!" Klaus roared, pushing Elijah back, "it's the witches, they're the ones behind this."

"Niklaus," Elijah said, his voice soft, "how could they possibly-"

"I don't know!" Klaus yelled, throwing his arms in the air, his frustration and fear overwhelming him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His mind was racing, going a hundred miles an hour. He had to fix this, had to end this, he couldn't let anything happen to his family, his home.

Suddenly, it was like a light switch had flipped in his brain. His eyes widened and he turned to look at Elijah, his expression grim. He sped past him, up the stairs to the study, with Marcel and Elijah quickly following behind.

Klaus ripped the portrait off the wall and opened the safe, pulling out a small, wooden box. He held it in his hands, staring at it, his jaw clenching.

"What's that?" Marcel asked, his brow furrowing.

Klaus didn't respond, just opened it, and Elijah felt his blood run cold, his heart shatter. It was gone.

"Impossible," Elijah said, shaking his head.

Klaus threw the box across the room, the wood splintering, embedding into the wall. He was breathing heavily, his entire body was tense.

"I told you," he muttered, his hands clenched into fists. "I told you what she was... what she was capable of..."

Elijah stared at him, his heart sinking. He remembered the day that he had met you, the first time you had come to the compound. He remembered how beautiful you were, so soft and full of light. How could you possibly be capable of such a betrayal?

Klaus lunged at Elijah, his fist colliding with his jaw, and Elijah stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly, his own fists flying, striking Klaus across the face.

They brawled, punches and kicks being exchanged, and Elijah grabbed Klaus, throwing him into a table. They crashed to the floor, grappling and struggling.

"You have always been blinded by your feelings for her!" Klaus spat, his fangs bared, his face inches from Elijah's.

Marcel grabbed at him, trying to pull him off Elijah, but Klaus shrugged him off, pinning his brother to the ground.

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book! My noble brother, always willing to see the best in people, even when they're plotting against you," he snarled, his eyes flashing yellow, "how many times has it cost us, Elijah? How many times have we nearly died because of your stupid sentimentality?"

Elijah snarled, pushing Klaus back and landing a blow to his nose, knocking him to the ground. He pinned him down, his hands wrapped around Klaus' throat.

"You think I'm the fool?" Elijah growled, his grip tightening, "it was you who pushed the witches too far, you took away their hope, their freedom! You're the reason they're fighting back!"

Klaus grabbed the stake and jammed it into Elijah's neck, his eyes widening in shock. He pulled it out, and Elijah gasped, falling to the floor.

"Enough!" Marcel yelled, and he yanked the stake from Klaus' hand.

Klaus stood up, breathing heavily, staring down at his brother, his face filled with rage. Elijah coughed and sputtered, blood spilling from his mouth, the wound slowly healing.

"If we are going to survive this, we need to work together. Save the family drama for later," Marcel said, his voice hard.

Elijah stood up, wiping the blood from his face.

"He's right," he said, his voice hoarse.

"So, what do we do?" Marcel asked, glancing between the two brothers.

"We hunt them down," Klaus growled, his eyes filled with fury. "Those foul witches and their ilk."

"And then?" Elijah asked, his expression grave.

"We kill them all," Klaus said, his voice barely above a whisper, and the room grew quiet, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He looked at Elijah, his face filled with determination, "Every last one."

You made your way through the city, ducking into alleys and hiding whenever a vampire passed by. It was a bit odd to see the city so barren, the streets empty. You tried not to think about it, pushing away the memories of when they were thriving, full of vampires, witches and werewolves alike.

You didn't talk much, keeping quiet to avoid drawing attention to yourselves. But Maeve pointed to the trees and grass, the once green and vibrant plants that now lay withered and dead.

"Was that us?" she whispered. "Our magic?"

You just nodded, trying not to dwell on it. You had sacrificed a lot to get here, you couldn't lose focus now. You had to keep going, no matter what.

"We are going to die, aren't we?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

"Maybe, but so is everyone else," you replied, your voice equally low. "This is bigger than us, we have a chance to free everyone, to end the tyranny,"

You could feel the magic you had taken on, it was too much, twisting your insides, making you nauseous. You knew that the longer you kept it, the worse it would get. The ancestors didn't care that you were in agony, you were their vessel, a tool for their revenge.

"I've never really thought about the afterlife," Maeve said, a small smile creeping across her face. "But, I hope that it's peaceful, that my family is there waiting for me,"

"I'm sure it is," you said, your voice wavering.

"What about you? What do you hope the afterlife is like?" She asked, glancing over at you.

"I hope it's worth it," you whispered, "I hope that everything we did was worth it."

She nodded, her expression solemn. You didn't know what else to say, so you just headed towards the compound, the one place you didn't want to go.

As you grew closer, the damage done to the streets became more pronounced, the rubble thicker and heavier. You had to climb over fallen walls and dead trees, concrete stained with blood. There had been a fight, wooden stakes and branches lay strewn about the ground, but no bodies. Whatever wolves, vampires or witches had engaged them here were either dead or dragged away to be fed upon.

You tried not to think about it, clambering over the rubble, making your way through the gate, sticking to the shadows of the courtyard. It was dark, the sun hidden behind stormy gray clouds. You were glad for it, it would make sneaking around the compound easier, but a part of you wanted to see the sunshine one last time.

The bodies of a werewolf army lie strewn about the courtyard and the large pool of liquid in the middle of it. There were torn off heads, limbs, all in a pile and it was impossible to tell which person belonged to which body. There were a few witches as well, their bodies laying next to those of the wolves.

It was gruesome, the smell of blood and rot filling the air. You covered your mouth, trying not to vomit, but the sight was too much, the magic coursing through you amplifying your senses, and you dry heaved, clutching your stomach.

Before you had time to process what you were looking at, there was a strange shift in the air, and Klaus Mikaelson stood before you. He was covered in blood, his shirt torn and ragged. He was staring down at the pile of corpses, his expression blank.

"I presume it was you that caused this... massacre," he said, his voice eerily calm.

"No, pretty sure that was you," you retorted, and he smirked, a cold, hollow thing, turning to face you.

"I call it self defense. Why? Well they had these..." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and he held up a number of poorly whittled white oak stakes, "and were not afraid to use them."

He dropped the stakes, his eyes roving over you, then his gaze turned to Maeve, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

"I see you brought a friend," he said, his voice mocking. "Does she care to explain what's happening here, or am I going to have to torture it out of her?"

Maeve glared at him, her eyes narrowing, and she lifted her hand, a ball of flame appearing in her palm.

"We've come to kill you, to end your reign of terror," she said, her voice hard.

"Is that so?" He replied, his eyes gleaming. "I'm impressed, little witch, it takes a great deal of strength and cunning to kill an Original vampire."

He looked over at you, his expression turning dark.

"And quite a bit of debauchery too, considering the lengths in which you went to," he hissed, his tone bitter.

"This has nothing to do with us, Klaus," you said, taking a step towards him.

"Oh no?" He snapped, his voice rising, "sleeping with Elijah wasn't a calculated choice? That was all just a means to an end?"

"Don't," you growled, your voice low.

He threw back his head and laughed, a loud, mocking sound. Then he lunged, grabbing you by the throat, lifting you off the ground.

"I should kill you," he growled, his eyes burning with rage, "I should rip your throat out and tear your body to pieces."

Maeve's hands clenched into fists, the fire growing hotter, brighter, and she let out a scream, sending the ball of flame hurling towards Klaus.

He dropped you, flying backwards, crashing into the side of the building. You landed hard, the breath knocked out of you, your body aching. Maeve rushed to your side, helping you up. She pressed a stake into your hand, and you gripped it tightly, the wood smooth against your skin.

"Come on," she said, jerking her head towards Klaus, "let's finish this."

Klaus stood up, his shirt smoldering, the skin beneath it red and blistered. His eyes flashed yellow, and he lunged, moving faster than you could follow.

Maeve ran at him, the force of her magic causing Klaus to stumble, and he let out a roar, charging towards her. They collided in a flurry of blows, their hands and feet moving impossibly fast.

Klaus grabbed Maeve, his hands wrapping around her neck, and he began to squeeze. You ran at him, leaping onto his back, plunging a stake into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, throwing Maeve to the ground, and reached behind him, grabbing you by the throat.

He tore the stake from his shoulder, tossing it aside, and slammed you against the wall, his hands crushing your windpipe.

"Tell me, love," he sneered, his eyes boring into yours, "did you enjoy it?"

You stared at him, your mouth open, struggling to breathe, the magic within you bubbling and churning.

"All the pain you have caused, all the suffering, the lives ruined," he growled, his eyes darkening, "and you had the gall, the nerve, the audacity to pretend you are righteous,"

He was breathing heavily, his jaw clenching, and his hands tightened around your neck.

"To claim that you were better than me," he hissed, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, "to make Elijah believe that you loved him."

The magic inside you burst forth, exploding outward, and you sent a pulse of energy towards him, knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, rolling a few times, coming to a stop against a stone pillar.

You collapsed in the heap, coughing and gasping for air, the magic flowing through you burning, searing. You screamed, your back arching, your limbs twitching, your muscles contracting. It was too much, the pressure, the pain, and the magic began to escape, slipping from your grasp, flowing into the air.

You watched it, like a wisp of soft twinkle lights, drifting away, it gravitated towards the wood, the stakes and branches strewn about the compound, to the beams above you. It sank into them, filling them, and the wood began to glow, burning with the same white light that flowed through you.

Maeve stumbled to her feet, stake in hand, it was disintegrating, falling apart in her palm. She knew this was her last chance, she couldn't afford to wait any longer, the magic was escaping her, draining from her body and draining her life.

She snarled and launched himself at him and they rolled across the ground, grappling and fighting. She screamed and struggled, the force of her magic beating against his chest, but he was too strong, pinning her down.

You took a single step forward, and then you felt it; a sudden rush of coldness, a wave of despair, as his hand touched your arm. You turned, and he was standing there, Elijah.

He looked like he had been through hell. His clothes were tattered, his face covered in dirt and blood. But it was his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes that broke your heart. They were full of pain, a sorrow so deep, so profound, that you couldn't look away.

You stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, neither of you saying a word. And then you heard a cracking sound, Maeve's scream, and Klaus' triumphant roar.

You saw her body fall, limp and lifeless, the white oak stake gone, Klaus holding the splintered remains in his hands.

The whispers grew deafening, chanting in unison, filling your mind, the voices blending together, drowning out all thought, and you were filled with rage.

You struggled in Elijah's grip, the magic swirling and coiling within you, ready to be released.

"Let me go," you hissed, your voice filled with venom.

He didn't budge, his grip tightening, but he wasn't looking at you. Klaus stood up, wiping his hands on his pants, his mouth twisted into a smug grin.

"It's over, brother," he said, his voice mocking, "kill her and end this,"

You snarled and kicked, lashing out with your magic, the air rippling. You struck him in the chest, and he fell backwards, his grip loosening, and you ripped yourself from his arms, turning to face him.

He looked like you had stabbed him in the heart, his expression crumpling. You felt dizzy, drunk almost, on the power. Everything was so vivid, so intense. Your senses were overwhelmed, your head spinning. Maeve's magic flowed through you, and you could feel her essence, her soul. The voices of your ancestors were a chorus in your head, a chorus calling for the deaths of all vampires.

Elijah moved, reaching out, trying to grab you, but you sidestepped him, dodging his attempt to restrain you. You turned towards him, the anger and pain that you had kept locked away, bubbling to the surface.

"You're all monsters," you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"We are," Elijah said, his eyes full of anguish.

You felt a surge of emotion, your vision blurring, and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"I wish I had never met you," you whispered. "Why... Why did you have to take everything from me?"

He didn't answer, just stared at you, his face pale. You could hear Klaus chuckle behind you, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Come now, love," he drawled, "that's hardly fair."

You spun around, the magic inside you thrumming, your fingers twitching.

"You have no idea what's fair!" You snapped, your voice shaking.

Klaus smirked, taking a step towards you, but Elijah blocked his path, standing in front of you.

"Move," Klaus snarled, his eyes glowing yellow.

"No," Elijah said, his voice strained.

"You can't save her, brother," Klaus said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on Elijah. "She took too much on, look around,"

The ceiling was collapsing, the walls crumbling, the foundations cracking. All of the wood and plants were rotting and dying, pulsing with the same white light that you could feel pulsing through you.

"She chose this, to die for her cause," Klaus sneered. "How noble of her."

Elijah pushed him away, his jaw clenched, and he looked at you, his expression pained. Klaus grabbed him, pulling him away, and he let out a shout, struggling against his grip.

"Just let her go," he snarled, "it will be over soon."

Elijah shook his head, his tear filled eyes now turning to rage, and he punched him, hitting Klaus so hard, he stumbled, releasing his hold. Elijah's eyes burned with anger, his fists clenched.

"No, I will not kill her," he hissed, "not now, not ever."

"You're weak," Klaus spat, wiping the blood from his mouth, "she betrayed you, she lied to you, and you can't bring yourself to end it, to do what must be done. You are a fool, a pathetic, sniveling, little fool."

Elijah charged at him, his hands grabbing Klaus by the throat, slamming him into the wall. He punched him repeatedly, his knuckles smashing into his face, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You have only ever despised those I love," Elijah snarled, his fist connecting with Klaus' face, "because you are a coward, afraid of any emotion that does not serve your own selfish desires."

Klaus laughed, spitting blood, his lips split, his nose broken.

"You will never learn," Klaus said, his voice thick with disdain.

"And you will never understand," Elijah said, his voice barely above a whisper, his fist connecting with Klaus' face once again.

You could hear the whispers, the voices, the magic in the air calling to you. Your coven was gone, they were dead, but their spirits lingered, their voices echoing in your mind. You held all their power now, their legacy, and the weight of it was crushing. You were barely holding on, with Maeve dead all the magic was yours, and it was destroying you.

Your knees buckled, and you fell to the ground, your body wracked with sobs. You were alone, all alone, and the power was too much. You couldn't hold on anymore, your grip was slipping. the pain too intense, and you let go.

Everything went white, the light blinding, and there was a horrifying crack, and the earth beneath you exploded. The ground gave way, and you fell, the air rushing past you.

You screamed, falling, falling, and the voices grew louder, the light blinding. And then everything went black.

~~~

You awoke slowly, a dull throbbing ache in the back of your head. You couldn't feel your legs, your entire body was numb.

You blinked, your vision blurred, and slowly everything around you came into focus. There was rubble everywhere, a huge pile of it. The air was filled with dust, making it hard to breathe. There was a rumbling sound, as debris began to rain down, a piece of rock became dislodged and tumbled down, smashing into a pile of bricks, shattering them.

There was a ringing in your ears, and you could hear the muffled sound of shouting, a distant siren. You tried to move, but your body was heavy, your limbs were leaden, and you were stuck under something warm and solid.

You looked up, and Elijah's face came into view. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in an unnatural way, his neck was at an odd angle, his hair caked with dust. He had you caged under him, his body covering yours, protecting you from the worst of the destruction.

"Eli?" You croaked, your voice hoarse, the sound of it muffled.

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking, his gaze focusing on you. His pretty brown eyes full of heartache and despair.

"Why?" He whispered, his voice breaking.

"I had to," you said, your voice wavering.

He looked down at you, his eyes roving over you, taking in your injuries. He moved slightly, pushing up against the rubble, his immense strength allowing him to lift the heavy wooden beam that was pinning you.

You winced as the movement jarred your legs, a sharp stab of pain shooting through you. You were sure they were broken, the bones in your lower half crushed, shattered.

"You used me," he whispered, his voice trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks, "you made me care for you, made me think..."

He broke off, shaking his head, his eyes filled with anguish.

"And then you betrayed me," he continued, his voice hollow.

The voices were screaming, the magic within you burning, searing.

"I was always told vampires were evil," you pleaded, the pain in your chest unbearable. "And then, I met you, and it was like, everything I knew, everything I believed, it all changed. You made me see the world differently."

His face crumpled, and he looked away, his shoulders shaking.

"I had a mission," you said, your voice cracking, "I was to destroy you, and bring peace back to this city."

You looked at him, pleading, your eyes welling up. You felt a stake next to you, the wood felt so hot, the magic inside it vibrating, the whispers in your head growing louder, a cacophony of sound.

"I never meant to fall in love with you," you cried, the tears rolling down your face.

"Killing me, would cause the thousands I sired to die too, many of them innocent. Who are you to decide who is worthy of life or death?" He asked, his voice trembling, his gaze full of anger.

"It doesn't matter," you said, the words spilling out of you, "they're all monsters."

"Just like me," he whispered, his eyes searching yours, "just like you."

"No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You lifted the stake, pressing it against his chest, the wood burning against your skin.

"This is a mercy," you said, the tears rolling down your cheeks, "an end to the suffering, a chance for peace."

"Do it," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Kill me."

"I don't want to," you cried, the pain in your chest becoming unbearable.

"Do it," he yelled, his voice laced with anger, "End it. Put me out of my misery."

"No," you choked out, the pain overwhelming. "I don't want to, but the voices, the magic, it's too much, I can't, I can't hold on," you sobbed, the stake glowing brightly.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breath tickling your face.

"I can't watch you die," he whispered, his voice soft, his face twisted with agony.

He kissed you then, a soft, gentle kiss, his lips brushing against yours, and you clung to him, the stake pressed against his heart, the wood burning. You knew you didn't have it in you, to make the choice that would end him, forever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, the pain in your chest overwhelming, "for everything."

"Me too," he said, his voice filled with sorrow, he took the stake from your hand, casting it aside. You watched as it slowly disintegrated, the weapon you sacrificed everything for, turning to dust. Just like the magic you had inside you.

Elijah placed his hand on your cheek, cupping your face, his thumb brushing against your skin, his eyes meeting yours. Then he groaned, pushing hard against the debris that trapped you both, lifting the heavy wooden beam that pinned you to the ground. He pulled you free, holding your broken body close, and you felt his arms wrap around you, his touch gentle, careful.

You looked around, the devastation was worse than you thought. The entire compound was gone, the building demolished. There were fires burning everywhere, and a thick layer of dust and debris covered everything. The city was eerily silent, the sky dark, the only light coming from the fires. You were the cause of this, the destruction, the death. You couldn't take it anymore, the guilt, the shame, the pain.

You buried your face against his chest, letting the tears flow freely. He held you, his embrace warm, his touch comforting. You could feel the heat of his breath, the beat of his heart. The voices grew louder, and you were drowning in the sound, the pain was excruciating.

"I'm dying," you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt, "and I'm afraid."

"Don't be," he whispered, his hand rubbing your back, his voice thick with emotion, "I'll be with you, every step of the way."

"I love you," you said, your voice trembling, the tears streaming down your cheeks.

"I love you too," he whispered, his voice choked, "with all my heart.”

He tightened his grip, holding you closer, his arms wrapped around you, his chest pressed against yours.

"Please," you begged, "please, kill me."

You felt his lips on yours, the taste of blood and tears. His fingers dug into your back, and you felt the pain, the fire in your bones, your muscles, the magic tearing through you, burning, scorching. You were going to die, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"Not yet," he said, his voice breaking, and you felt the sharp pinch of teeth in your neck.

The pain was intense, like a fire, burning through you. You screamed, arching against him, and he pulled back, his eyes wide, his pupils blown, the veins beneath them protruding. He was feeding from you, draining you, killing you.

You felt the darkness creeping in, the whispers fading, the voices growing quiet. Then it was all blackness, nothingness, a void. You were floating, drifting in the darkness, and then you felt something, a tether, a rope, and it was pulling you back, calling to you. It was not the continual haunting drone of the ancestors, but one singular, familiar voice. The voice of the person you loved the most.

Epilogue

A soft sigh escaped your lips as Elijah's warm hands held you underneath him, the movements of his hips slow and controlled.

His hands roamed your body, the look of lust on his face making your heart skip a beat. You would never tire of the way he made you feel, the way he knew what he was doing. This slow, lazy dance, the intimacy of it, the gentle brush of his lips, the smooth silk sheets on your bare skin, the pleasure he made you feel. It was all overwhelming, intense, the sounds you were both making echoing in the room.

You stared up at him, the golden glow of the fireplace shining on his skin, his dark eyes staring down at you. A rare smile was on his lips, and he sighed in contentment, his thrusts becoming more forceful, the bed creaking beneath you. It didn't take long for you to fall apart, the sweet pleasure ripping through your body, Elijah following soon after.

The two of you laid there for a while, not saying anything, just enjoying the peaceful silence. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't stop the questions racing through your mind.

"You're thinking too much, my love," he whispered, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, shaking your head, trying to dispel the memories that were plaguing you.

"Talk to me," he murmured, propping himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. "I want to know what's going on in that beautiful mind of yours."

You closed your eyes, not sure where to begin. "I... I just miss it sometimes," you whispered, unable to meet his gaze, feeling the shame burning inside of you. "The power, the magic. It was so overwhelming, so intoxicating, and now... I feel empty without it."

"I know," he replied, his voice soft, his hand reaching up to stroke your hair. "I can't imagine what that was like, having all that power, feeling it consume you."

You nodded, the guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. You knew what he was feeling. He was angry, hurt, betrayed, and you didn't blame him. It would take a long time for him to forgive you, if he ever did. You were grateful that he was even giving you a chance, allowing you into his life, his bed. He had been so patient, so understanding, so loving, and you didn't deserve it.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I know it's a sore subject for you, and I'm sorry."

He sighed, shaking his head, his hand resting on your hip, pressing your legs apart. "No," he whispered, his eyes full of sorrow, his touch tender, his lips pressing against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. "It's not a sore subject for me, not anymore," he said, his voice firm, his words ringing true. "I forgave you a long time ago."

You blinked back the tears, his words washing over you, filling you with relief, with joy, with hope. You didn't deserve his forgiveness, his love, but you would cherish it, cherish him, for the rest of your life. And now that you were immortal, that would be a very long time.

You never expected to find peace or love with Elijah Mikaelson. Of all the ways your paths had crossed, this one was by far the most unexpected. Laying here, in his arms, a vampire, his wife, was never part of your plan. You chose this, him, and he chose you, and that's all you ever needed.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}

[cssns]

WOW!!!!!! Can you believe it? We're done and it's time for the CSSNS23 Roundup!!!

Before we get started, I need to recognize and thank my team of mods, @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop and @ultraluckycatnd, without whom this event wouldn't have happened this summer! Please join me in giving them all the long distance internet group hugs!!!!

And NOWWWWWWWW... Here we GOOOOO!!!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

@hufflepuffinstorybrooke opened us up this year on July 1 with a wonderful soulmates OS called If You're Lucky, Love Leaves Scars, that I was privileged to make artwork for. The fic left me in tears and melting at the same time!

On July 3, @teamhook posted the first chapter of her fic The Last Witch Hunter, inspired by the Vin Diesel movie of the same name. Only one ch so far, but I'm absolutely captivated and eagerly awaiting more! Very intriguing artwork by herself.

@spartanguard dropped her Killian's evil twin MC on July 5, Sons of Love and Death, with artwork by herself. That artwork, of two incredibly handsome guys shouldn't be as chilling as it is, but IT IS... The fic is completely written and she's been updating weekly, so we're on ch9 of 13. Just sayin, but I'm about ready to use a certain dagger on a certain evil twin.

July 7 @goforlaunchcee posted Smoke and Mirrors, a HOOT of a ghost story, with such lovely artwork by @piinfeathers that perfectly captures CS in this fic. Three chapters are up so far, and I can't wait for more!!!

July 10, @killiansprincss posted her OS A Court of Vines and Shadow inspired by A Court of Thorns and Roses, with absolutely gorgeous artwork by @hollyethecurious. I was not familiar with the source material, so I was completely surprised and delighted with this fic!!!

@athenascarlet posted her merman Killian OS on July 13, The Merman with a wonderful visual on Tumblr 😏 Just a regular night between a sheriff and her merman pirate... Would love to see more of this, but it's staying a OS... for now, she says...

Also on July 13, @anmylica posted the first chapter of Fly With the Black Swan with amazing artwork by @zaharadessert. We have two chs of ten up so far, and I'm sitting on pins and needles waiting for more!!!!

On July 15, @whatevenisthisbloganymore posted the first chapter of Forest View Apartments, a ghost story that has the questions swirling through my mind and eagerly awaiting the next installment! Amazing artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare!

Speaking of @undercaffinatednightmare, real life has been very rude lately and has left her unable to post her two planned fics for this summer, but she has managed to make the artwork for them both that you can find here and here! I love her writing so much and I know whenever RL lets up, both these fics are going to be wonderful!!! *EDITED* The first of her fics, A Charming Curse, has now posted and it promises to be FUN!!!

July 19, @deckerstarblanche posted An Offer She Can't Refuse, with more lovely artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. Emily only planned two chs for this very hot and sexy Omegaverse fic, but she took it in a very angsty direction in the final scene of ch2, and so has now promised that she'll come back and add one more ch to give us all the happy ending we deserve!

July 22, @zaharadessert posted a very hot demon Killian OS, Sacrificial Lamb that made bloodthirsty Krystal VERY happy. I was once again privileged to make artwork for the fic, with an assist by @motherkatereloyshipper who was responsible for the Emma edit I used.

July 23, @mie779 posted the first chapter of Finding Caldera: The Hidden World of Dragons, with just lovely artwork by @undercaffinatednightmare. The adventure of this fic is just wonderful! We're on ch9 and nearing the end!

On July 25, it was my turn to post for the event! Into the Light was inspired by the 1987 movie The Lost Boys, my very first introduction to vampires and it has never left me! Incredible artwork was created by @motherkatereloyshipper that still just leaves me staring at it slack jawed!

@hollyethecurious posted the first chapter of The Law of Surprise on July 28. Now complete in three parts, this beautiful BEAUTIFUL but also heartbreaking fic was inspired by the law of surprise from The Witcher. Breathtaking artwork was provided by @eastwesthomeisbest and can be found here, here, and here.

@xarandomdreamx posted her CS Practical Magic AU A Crystalline Knowledge of Love and Magic on July 30. Beautiful artwork by @hollyethecurious. Only one chapter so far and my heart is so broken for Emma and Elsa but also completely in love with the story!!!!

Rounding out July, @caught-in-the-filter posted original artwork featuring ghost Emma and vampire Killian that was absolutely CHILLING!!!!

@snowbellewells started Aug off on the 2nd with an incredible one shot, Deluge! Gorgeous artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest. I am so hopeful that Marta will eventually write more of this wonderfully intriguing fic!!!

Then, @eastwesthomeisbest was so inspired by Marta's fic, she made her own original art in the same vein as the art she made for the fic. Absolutely breathtaking!!!

On Aug 8, @booksteaandtoomuchtv posted the Prologue and ch1 of Witchy Woman. I have sooooo been waiting for this fic and so far, four chs in, it is hitting ALL my buttons! Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

On Aug 10, @cs-rylie posted The Journal, a seriously SCARY fic, only 3 chs in, inspired by Native American legend. Artwork by me, again with a much needed assist from @motherkatereloyshipper who was responsible for Milah and the journal itself.

@iamstartraveller776 posted her new fic, To Cleave Destiny on Aug 13. Featuring Demon Killian, just this Prologue has me on the edge of my seat!!! Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

@exhaustedpirate posted Parent for Hire on Aug 14. A Mandalorian inspired fic, Caro has melted my Captain Cobra heart so many times already, only four chs in. She also did moodboards to accompany each ch that you can find on each of the Tumblr ch posts x x x and I was also privileged to make a banner for the fic.

On Aug 16, @grimmswan posted the first chs of TWO fabulous fics!!! Dracula in Storybrooke comes from the woefully underutilized Land of Untold Stories arc, and Love Bites (But So Do I) is a supernatural adventure of vampire Emma and werewolf Killian. Artwork coming soon from @cocohook38.

On Aug 18, @snowbellewells posted her second fic of the event, Carolina Moon. A fic inspired by the Nora Roberts novel of the same name, my heart is already, only two chs in, broken for Emma and on the edge of my seat waiting for more! Beautiful artwork again done by @eastwesthomeisbest!

@jrob64 posted Saying Goodbye and Moving On on Aug 20, a DESPERATELY NEEDED and ABSOLUTELY PERFECT fix-it fic from the Underworld arc. I was again privileged to make artwork for it, and I'm just gonna have to accept that I almost can't make picsets anymore without the aid of @motherkatereloyshipper. For this one, she was again responsible for ghost Milah.

Aug 22, @padfootprongslet posted the Prologue for Like Our Love (Falling Down and Over Again). A Mr. and Mrs. Smith inspired fic, my heart was absolutely SHATTERED in this first ch and I can't wait for more! I was again privileged to make a picset for this with @motherkatereloyshipper coming in the clutch entwining the rings.

On Aug 24, @jonesfandomfanatic posted Stolen From Time. Now complete in three parts, this fic was absolutely BRILLIANT!!! @motherkatereloyshipper made a beautiful video to accompany it.

Our final fic by @wyntereyez will post in the next few days. She’s dealing with a hurricane at the moment, so she’s excused! Artwork by spartanguard. Can't wait! *EDITED* the fic and art are both now posted!!! I melted at Kait’s artwork, and I cackled and melted repeatedly reading the fic!!!! AND I am BEYOND EXCITED that Jamie has more to come in this universe, because I NEEEEEEEEEEEED it!!!!!

That's it everyone! Please enjoy all these FABULOUS fics and artworks and be sure to give the authors and artists all the love they deserve!!!

[snowbellewells]

CSSNS24 Fic: "For All Life and For All Time" (A CS Dracula AU in 3 Parts)

Author's Notes: Okay, so this is posted late, on a day that was luckily unclaimed. I struggled with doing justice to the work that probably began my love of all things Victorian Gothic, and re-reading it again for plotting and inspiration certainly didn't make the prospect any less daunting. While I love the original Bram Stoker novel's epistolary format, it was not something I wanted to carry on for an entire fic. Nor is this fully true to the original's narrative. I do hope that those who have read the novel and enjoyed it may find nods to the original to make them smile. I didn't want to make Killian the Dracula character - he is neither at all attractive nor redeemable in the original work - so he became my Van Helsing. Emma is the kick-butt awesome Mina Harker, quite a standout female character for that time, but I did away with the Jonathan Harker character altogether.

This starts in the middle of the action, then has a fair bit of reflection to bring readers up to speed. The next installment should have more action and pick up where this one leaves off.

A MILLION thank yous to @myfearless-love for all the editing work she did - my writing is quite a mess when I first translate it from my handwritten pages to a doc! She made it so much better, and I am incredibly grateful!!

A Victorian, Dracula-inspired AU in Three Parts

Please Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Having lost her dearest friend and with her own life on the line, Emma Swan joins a noble band to face an ancient evil. Three of them stand by her in honor of the one they loved and lost. The other might be the first man she could love. He might love her as well - even more than life itself. Time will tell... if they both survive the fight against their immortal enemy.

**Also available on AO3, if you prefer

Part One

by: @snowbellewells

Emma craned her neck to peer out the small window of the carriage into the impenetrable darkness encroaching on all sides as the conveyance careened around sharp curves and stark cliff faces, making her stomach pitch and her heart leap into her throat. More than once, her mouth opened to call the driver, beg him to slow down, but each time a sudden jolt or swerve had her clenching her teeth and swallowing the words as she gripped the seat tightly. Pitching wildly from one side of the bench to the other, Emma was nearly toppled to the floor repeatedly as they sped on.

The torches beside the carriage doors flickered wildly behind the glass sconces but barely made pinpricks of light in the surrounding night; deep blackness which had swallowed them since leaving the small gypsy outpost where they had supped just an hour past. Emma realized belatedly that she was only becoming more overwrought by attempting to stare blindly into the void while they hurtled forward, and instead forced herself to lean her head against the seat back and close her eyes, resolutely taking deep, calming breaths.

Scant moments passed in such a manner before Emma felt her racing heartbeat slow. It was a different sort of thrill which then ran along her spine - distinct from the chill which had settled on her skin with the horrifying loss of Aurora’s sweet friendship and from the eerie foreboding which had accompanied her since setting out in this last effort to ensnare the perpetrator of her younger friend’s downfall. This determined trek higher and higher into the isolated Carpathian heights seemed to weigh on her more with every mile they gained.

Yet, despite the tightening pit in her stomach and the anxious flutter of her pulse, Emma would not fail to accomplish her part in Killian’s plan. The Professor had turned Emma Swan’s already teetering world upon its axis. He was beyond description - no words could capture what his mere presence, his voice, a glance in her direction could do to her - a power no man had ever held before, because she would not allow it. And yet every hair on her body stood on end when he was near; her awareness utterly captured by the mysterious scholar. He had introduced himself merely as Killian Jones when they met at Aurora’s sick bed, but as they had nursed her together, even when their every desperate attempt proved futile, it had become clear his vast intellect, his determination and resolve, placed him well beyond the scope of any man she had met before - or likely would again.

By the time he had spoken the truth of the fiend who had siphoned Aurora’s life before their eyes, she could not doubt him, even in the face of the utterly impossible - a vampire.

This ancient evil, Count Dracula, had ruled his isolated corner of the world for ages, but in coming to England and extending his reach, he was a threat to all mankind. Aurora had been only a prelude to what he intended. A monster of myth and legend had destroyed her innocent friend, and without pausing for rest, he had stalked and marked Emma as his next victim, only she had the advantage of awareness and warning enough to resist.

Though the threat was deadly, and knowing what she faced - stakes and dark graveyards and the betrayal of her very humanity from what she gathered of Aurora’s end that no one would speak of in full - Emma did not wish to be shielded and to wait hidden in safety while others risked their lives for her sake. She would have her hand in it, even if that meant to some extent playing the helpless damsel as bait in the trap.

To Killian, it was personal as well. He had still been a medical student long ago, traveling to study folk remedies in Romania when he met a darkly beautiful Countess, lonely and sad, all too eager to join him on his travels. She had set his world aflame - first in joy, and then in ruin, for she had not been as free as he had believed. He had fallen for her, and then seen her drained of life by her husband - the creature of night who had proven nightmares lived and walked the earth. Killian had only survived that first encounter because the Count wished him to suffer. For years, Killian had studied and prepared. He had made himself into an expert much different than he had once aimed, and he had intended for his suffering to end only when his life, or the Count’s, did as well.

There was a fine line to walk, however, between justice and bitter revenge. When he had seen the desire for reprisal in Emma after Aurora’s death, when she learned of the indignity to which the young beauty had been subjected and the lengths to which the men who cared for her had gone to assure her peaceful rest, she had sworn she would see this Count Dracula pay for his cruelty somehow. That was when Killian had told her all. “Do not fall into that trap, Swan,” he had spoken softly, though the import of his words was unmistakable. “That way lies ruin - only wasted years and endless torment.”

His blue eyes bored into her very soul as he strove to make her see. “When I lost my love, my Milah, I sore revenge upon her foul husband, the vampire who murdered her without remorse. I was nearly consumed, and when I finally came back to myself, I realized that seeking only retribution would make a monster of me as well. That was when I took on the name Van Helsing, obtained my licenses and degrees with it in fact, in the hope of evading his detection while I waited and watched and the years crept by. I must pursue the course for the sake of all, but not for my own ends, my own anger and hate.”

He would not release her eyes, his focus searing as he continued, “You too must find a way to separate yourself, to retain your purity of heart despite the terrible mission you undertake. Do what you must to save all, but do so without letting it twist your soul with similar darkness.”

And so, in their desperate alliance, they all had their roles to play - Aurora’s bowed but unbroken suitors, and she, Aurora’s dearest friend. The three gentlemen had rallied around Emma, swearing to protect her in her friend’s name. And Killian, their worthy advisor and leader, had not yet steered them wrong. She wanted justice and what retribution could be found for the torment Aurora had suffered. None of them would falter. They had taken solemn vows. Now all that remained was to see the mission through.

Emma could only wonder how had her life been altered so drastically in a few short weeks. Such thoughts replayed through her mind in what was at first a rose-tinged procession as she recalled how bright and full of promise she had been when first arriving on the coast of Whitby for a holiday with her childhood playmate. It had been some time since she and Aurora had seen each other, and those first days on the shore were spent in a haze of sunshine and laughter. They caught up with one another’s lives as they shared tea and biscuits on the wide veranda of the Spindleton’s gorgeous summer cottage. They giggled under the covers long into the nights, whispering of Aurora’s debut season, the many eager suitors who had vied to court her, and her blushing fondness for her chosen fiancé Sir Philip Thornswood, Lord Briarling. They also chuckled over Emma’s adventures - how she disguised herself in men’s pants to move freely while researching her stories, and the various pseudonyms she used when submitting her pieces for publication, subverting the male-dominated publishing world. 

It had been an idyllic change from the crowded, dingy part of London where Emma could afford to live and work. Aurora’s family belonged to the upper echelon of society, well-known and old-moneyed, and Emma had been mostly alone in the world for as long as she could remember. She was discovered on the front stoop of the Widow Lucas’ boarding house as an infant, wrapped in a snow white baby blanket with her name stitched in purple as the only clue to her identity. Fortunately, the Widow Lucas was a formidable woman, well-versed in making her way in the world against harrowing odds. She had already raised a granddaughter who was now off traveling the continent, so she took in the little blonde foundling and raised Emma as her own, teaching her all she knew. Though the tough older woman - “Granny” to all who knew her, especially Emma - had been gone for some years now, Emma remained eternally grateful that it was her doorstep her unknown parents had chosen that cold dawn so long ago.

Granny had even managed to scrounge and save enough, and was willing to spare Emma’s assistance twice a week, for riding lessons - where Emma had met Aurora Spindleton. Though poor Aurora had been an absolute lost cause at equestrian pursuits, Emma had excelled with enthusiasm, and everyone involved was relieved when she took the slightly younger future debutante under her wing during their lessons.

Emma loved the freedom riding gave her, and Granny was glad to know her charge would have the ability to get help quickly and effectively if ever needed - and defend herself too, if her skill in archery and marksmanship was any indication. In truth, Granny had been secretly delighted. She had lived long enough to know just how dangerous the world could be, and she wanted to see her girl as prepared as possible without completely tarnishing her outlook.

Though Aurora’s family was of a higher social standing, they had always been welcoming and kind to Emma whenever she visited their townhouse in Mayfair. She sensed that they were glad their only child had found a practical friend who could provide a steadying influence on Aurora’s naive, head-in-the-clouds sweetness. Since gossip photographers insisted on capturing and reporting the doings of the peerage, her parents were certainly relieved that Emma’s tips and encouragement had kept Aurora from being caught falling off her mount or in some other embarrassing faux pas. Aurora, for her part, was so endearing and open that Emma couldn’t resist being charmed. She might have been cosseted and sheltered, but she was hardly the sort of snob Emma had expected to encounter when mingling with the upper crust during her lessons. Instead, Emma was pleasantly surprised to make her first close friend - a friendship that lasted for years, with Emma always missing the Spindletons when they left for the shore in summer, counting down the days until her confidante would return.

This year, however, she had received a request, along with a train ticket, to join them at Whitby. It had been wonderful - strolling, swimming, and lovely summer hours blending together joyously - until all had gone horribly wrong. If only the happy, haze of sunshine-warm days had not gone dark and tinged with blood.

Aurora had already been betrothed to Philip by the time Emma had arrived. Still, it had been lovely to meet each of the worthy men who had sought her hand. With not an ounce of malice in her slender body, they had each sworn their friendship and fealty, even after the troth had been gently rejected. Even without Aurora there to blush and smile sweetly while introducing them, Emma could easily see why her friend might have been drawn to each in his own way, despite the obvious differences between them. All the men who had sought Aurora’s hand in marriage were honorable and true, respectable and worthy beyond reproach. Their faithfulness to Aurora tested beyond natural bounds and withstood the onslaught, and Emma felt the protection of their bravery as they had rallied around her when she faced a similar fate. If only any one of them had understood what had preyed on Aurora before it had been too late!

Philip Thornswood, Aurora’s betrothed, was the most like her young friend in Emma’s eyes. Upon first meeting the landed peer, she felt the warmth in his large, chocolate eyes, his gentle strength and charm, and she knew they would have melted Aurora’s heart irrevocably. There was a sad sweetness to his expression, as if Emma herself returned a bit of his lost love to him with her presence. He had bent over her hand to gallantly kiss its back, and she had blinked away tears for the happiness that Aurora would never enjoy, knowing the two would have been well-matched beyond her friend’s wildest dreams. All she could do was press his hand in return, and give him a wordless smile she only hoped might express her bittersweet feelings.

Graham Morris, from the wild, rolling hills of Ireland - a cowboy of sorts, as they would call it in the Americas - was a man of few words and swift action, easily winning and debonair, but  also a bit rumpled and informal. He was clearly happier out of doors, more comfortable in the woods and riding horses than in a crowd of people, and yet his easy good humor and almost bashful regard could easily have swayed her young friend. He was an excellent shot, ever on the alert, and a godsend to have in their desperate endeavor.

The third suitor, Dr. Jefferson Seward, was a celebrated and innovative physician who had fought to restore Aurora’s health with every fiber of his energy. If the foe he had battled had been a mortal man rather than an immortal being, Emma had no doubt they would have prevailed. Though he was slightly older, he was thoughtful and doting; Aurora would have naturally been fond of him. The affection between them had been undaunted by her choice of another - so much so that when Jefferson had found himself losing the fight for her life, he had urgently sent for his friend, the renown Professor Van Helsing, expert on the supernatural forces, to do what he could not.

And that was how she had come to be in this rattling horse-drawn carriage, racing up a treacherous mountain path. The devious monster who had taken everything from Aurora - and who now threatened to drain Emma’s own life as well - awaited her in the deserted outpost at the end of this long night’s journey. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap. Every few minutes, her fingers reflexively gripped her reticule, its strap looped around her wrist, drawing comfort from the small Derringer hidden within its folds. She also took strength from the knife secured in a special holster at the top of her stockings, pressing against her thigh. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of Professor Van Helsing - Killian - explaining its purpose as he presented her with the clever sheath. He had been deathly serious about her safety, but there also had been a heated flicker of clear attraction when she shyly gestured to ascertain where it should be worn, a moment that had ignited a warmth deep inside her.

The gentle feathering of gray in his hair near his temples and sideburns reminded her of the vast experience and knowledge he had gathered in his life - the very things they were all counting on to help them survive. The deeper lines around his startlingly bright blue eyes and at the corners of his firm lips reminded her that he had once smiled much more than he allowed himself to now. It made Emma wish to see him do so again. Everything about the man radiated power and purpose, commanding her respect from the moment they met, just as Aurora’s terrifying affliction had reached its peak. 

They had not won the victory any of them had prayed for, least of all Lord Briarling. Emma had hardly been able to bear looking at the strong young man bowed by grief as she had boarded the carriage for her mission. Philip Thornswood had given her a hand up onto the step, and was the last to speak to her before Killian Van Helsing’s own farewell. The gloom in his demeanor made her very glad she was not leaving the young gentleman alone, but in the company of true comrades. Even so, she trusted that Philip would not allow himself to falter in their cause. That steady hand, such a gentle support for her own as she ascended into the carriage, might have trembled in the doing, but had not hesitated to drive a stake into the breast of one he loved most in all the world for the sake of her eternal soul.

Breaking from her reflection on the journey’s beginning, Emma remembered herself suddenly as an eerie calm seeming to settle over her surroundings. She was instantly on alert when the carriage began to slow. A shiver of trepidation ran up her spine, returning her harshly to the present and the task before her. Outside there was a foreboding, unnatural quiet, only the crunch of the carriage wheels and the sound of the horses’ hooves on the rough ground broke the eerie silence. They rolled to a stop, and Emma leaned from the window, intent on calling up question the driver.

To her utter confusion and horror, when she glimpsed the seat where the driver had perched, she found no one there. He was gone, and she was stranded alone in the dark. Uncertain of what to do, but knowing she could not stay on the desolate mountain pass in the cold, Emma exited the carriage and alighted on the ground. As her feet touched the rough stone and dirt beneath, some unnerving signal was sounded. The silence was broken by the howling of wolves - loud, spine-tingling, and coming from every side, all around them.

There was no way to outrun them, and as the echo and answer of their baying circled nearer, Emma knew there was no way through their number at any rate, even without being able to see. The horses stamped and tossed their heads nervously, panic driving them as instinct warned them predators lingered just beyond the faint circles of light from the carriage lamps. She would not leave them to be devoured; nor would she lie down and wait to be torn apart herself. She was nearly there!

Desperate and trembling, but steeling her resolve, Emma moved to the front of the carriage, intending to climb up onto the driver’s box, take the reins, and break through the pack, to drive them to the castle herself. It might have been her imagination, her terror breathing life into her senses, but it felt as though the creatures drew closer still. She could almost hear the heavy pants and growls between their mournful howls and feel their hot, slavering breath on the back of her neck. A nervous glance over her shoulder showed only moving flashes of grey fur and horrifying red eyes shining out of the shadows. She had gripped the metal railing to pull herself up when all seemed to fall away, the night going perfectly still.

A dark figure glided with unnatural grace through the mass of half-seen forms. The pack almost seemed to bow their shaggy, sharp-toothed heads before it, if Emma could at all reconcile that impression in her mind. One would almost believe they had been summoned.

The slim, dark, and sinister figure appeared before her, having reached her almost before Emma could mark his movement. Wearing a fine black cloak trimmed in thick fur and reaching almost to the ground, Emma saw little else but the flash of deep garnet in its lining and the glimmer of an evil, yet irresistible, smile. A pale hand reached out of the folds of the garment, outstretched to take hers in strangely formal greeting.

“I believe you are seeking me,” a sibilant voice nearly crooned.

Emma fought back a shudder at the sight of dagger-sharp nails at the end of long fingers somehow reminiscent of spider legs, pulling her into the web. She wanted to deny his claim, but all resistance failed her. What else could she do but allow the cold, dry hand to encase her own, and pull her forward through the wolves and dark and gathering mist? This was the nightmare she had come to find…

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@grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

[divinecomedyproductions]

My Take on Warhammer 40k Or A Potential Original Work inspired by 40k

Part 1: Setting up the Game Board

DISCLAIMER:What you are about to read is a radically different take on Warhammer 40k which will most likely be its own thing, so I ask do not take it seriously a Warhammer AU fanfic,for that case consider this a concept made out of boredom and faith, but should you take it seriously, see it rather a prototype of an original work with its influences as placeholders.

Plus this contains Christian theology ala Tolkien and Lewis in terms of world building. Its not complete and not perfect so pardon me if I don't touch on things like the Orks or The Old Ones.

Thank you for Reading.

While overall I'm not that into Warhammer 40k, there are things among it I do like such as space elves, space gods, space church, space demons, blocky armored human super soldiers. So I kinda want to do my take on the Warhammer 40k universe which will be its own thing(which I have notes on). Most of my inspiration comes from Tolkien's Lengendarium and CS Lewis' Ransom Trilogy/Space Trilogy(which terminology from both works will be borrowed) combined with the theology of my Catholic faith.

When coming up with these sorts things, I always ask myself questions such as

"What do you want from this? Why from this? And what's the merits of this?"

Which then I turned to CS Lewis on how he came up with ideas such as Narnia which he asked himself a speculative question, so I did so myself;

"Supposed 40k had more clear lines of Good and Evil ala Lord of The Rings and existed in a Christian Theological setting and Man, Eldar, and Tau were the big good and the three were created by God in his image; what would all of this put together look like?"

So let's start with my take on The Warp

The Warp itself is a gigantic cosmic ley line between the Materium and what would be referred to in CS Lewis's Space Trilogy as "Deep Heaven" where the triune supreme deity of this universe, whom we will call for the sake of this AU Triad, wells with his heavenly legions.

Triad is known as one Deity in Three Persons;

The Emperor-Of-All-That-Is(Aka Eru Iluvatar, The Old One, or The Father)

The Celestial King(Aka Urendi Maleldil, The Young One, or The Son)

and The Breath of Life(Aka The Flame Imperishable, The Third One, or The Spirit)

In this theology, the Gods in Warhammer akin to Valar of Tolkien's Middle Earth or Oyéresu and lesser warp enties akin to Maiar or Eldila who are assigned to guide and watch over mortal species and planets, the most unique being the pantheon of Powers amongst the humans, Eldar, and Tau.

Now in this beginning, there was the War In The Heavens started by the 5th Chaos God, who's vaguely implied to be Satan/Lucifer, hell for the sake of what little 40k this resembles, lets dub him Malal/Malice

Who The Eldar know as Morgoth formerly Melkor

and The Tau know as The Bent One formerly The Shinning One

and his four elite subordinates

Slaanesh who we know as Asmodeus on our planet

Nurgle who we know as Beezlebub on our planet

Tzeentch or who we know as Leviathan

and Khorne who known to be some kind of malicious demon of wrath(haven't come up with who)

and all of them were driven back and confined to certain planets

Nurgle and Slaanesh and their repsective legions were confined to the home planet of of the Aeldari

Khorne and Tzeentch and their minions were bound T'au the planet

and Malal was bound to Terra with his legions with a far greater seal.

However the planets they were bound to were home of three species that were all of the "Imago Dei", The Aeldari, Tau, and Humans respectively, the humans being the youngest

So 5 "gods" plotted to corrupt these species and use them as a means to spread their influence throughout the Galaxy and beyond when they become able of space travel.

One by one these three races fell, Malal tempted the first parents of Man first, then Tzeentch and Khorne temped the first parents of Tau, and finally Slaanesh and Nurgle tempted the Aeldari.

But Triad has plans for these races and did not intend to leave the galaxy to suffer, these plans began with the redemption of these three species

But as the Fall started through Adam’s race, the redemption had to also begin through Adam’s race.

So for the sake of each world and each life, The Celestial King came to Terra and became a Son of Adam.

From there he carried out a great task that rippled across the cosmos, and not only redeemed the children of Adam and Eve, but made them fully warp and fully matter, just as The Celestial King became Fully God and Fully Man. Which I will go into detail in part 2 with The Emperor of Mankind, the human race and their role in this AU.

After this, the newly ascended King departed for the Aeldari and Tau planets where his mere arrival redeemed the two races.

With things set into motion, The Celestial King departed back to his father in The Heavens.

History of the three races transpired, and accumulated in the Age of Strife where The God-Chosen Monarchs arose to bring order to their respective races and come together to conquer and civilize the Galaxy.

Coming soon in Part 2: Man, Eldar, and T’au: Three species of One Image