#who ferries souls across death and helps them find their way

[bithermal]

Q!BBH AND RELIGIOUS ICONOGRAPHY

Ok I said I’d make a longer post about it, so here it is. I just find it so incredible fascinating how Badboyhalo has chosen to incorporate religious symbols in his base, specifically the ones he has chosen to include. All of the symbols he has chosen are associated with death in some way. Unsurprising, considering he has heavily alluded to being the grim reaper. But, what I really want to focus on is the fact that the chosen symbols have a much heavier focus on the transition into death rather than death itself.

Let’s start with the easiest and most obviously one: the halo chandeliers and the wings sprouting from behind the throne. Angels in Christianity have served a large variety of roles, but the two I want to focus on is them being heralds of death/disaster and escorts of souls to heaven. I’m sure the herald angels relate back to BBH alluding that he caused great historical disasters such as the Black Death, but because there’s so many instances of herald angels I’m not gonna focus on any specific one.

Who I do want to focus on; however, is the angel of death Azrael. He’s sort of your classic biblically accurate angel with the many eyes and wings and all that, but his main job is to separate the soul from the body. He is unaware of when a human will die and only acts when he has been told (something about a leaf with that person’s name on it falling from the tree under God’s throne blah blah). The interesting note, though, is that Azrael stands on the bridge between paradise and hell. I point at the bridge leading from what will be the warp room to BBH’s base into the rest of his home. Now it’s your choice how you interpret which side is supposedly paradise and which is hell. Personally I could see an interpretation for either. Now back to angels. After Azrael pays you a visit to grab your soul, he hands you off to some guardian angels. Who those angels are varies based on what sect of Christianity you look at; some say Archangel Michael escorts you, others say it’s your personal guardian angels. Nonetheless, they act as escorts for the soul to the afterlife. Sound familiar? BBH has stated or implied (it’s been awhile I can’t remember if it was outright stated) that he helped guide the eggs who had died to the afterlife.

Now the next religious symbol is probably the most closely tied to the transition into death. BBH’s river of souls is heavily inspired by the River Styx and its ferryman Charon. Charon’s job was to ferry souls who had received burial rites across the rivers Acheron and Styx. There is some debate about the mythos of each river but for the purpose of this post I’m just going to refer to them both as what separated the world of the dead from the living. The main point here is that Charon ferried souls from the land of the living to that of the dead, where they will be judged and sent to whatever part of the underworld Hades would deem fit. Again, we are not quite seeing a symbol of death itself, but more of that transition period. What happens as the soul leaves the body and is on its way to the afterlife. And again, I point to BBH implying he guided the dead eggs. The interesting part here, though, is that Charon did not work for free like angels. When one received burial rites, they had a coin placed in their mouth that would serve as payment for the ferry. What I’m curious about is what BBH would consider payment if he’s considering it at all. It could possibly explain why he’s gotten away with so much without a serious step in from the Federation? But then again I could be looking too far into it lol.

The last symbol I want to talk about is interesting because it represents both life and death. The Ankh that BBH designed his rooms to form can been seen with a lot of important Egyptian figures. Pharaohs and kings were often depicted with them to preserve immortality. Egyptian gods such as Osiris, Iris, and Ra are all seen depicted with it. Important leaders were often buried with them to take to the afterlife to live a sort of life after death. The thing of note to me, though, is that it commonly represents the ability of gods to revive souls in the afterlife. This symbol isn’t so much a symbol of transition, but one of defiance of death. I included it in here because I find it appropriate that BBH, the one to consistently care for the eggs when no one else can, the one who has probably done the most to set up every safety measure he could to protect them, the one who feels most responsible for their disappearance, would be the one to adopt this symbol. Ngl the part about reviving souls gives me hope he can find a way to bring the dead eggs back, but that’s largely me coping and I doubt that will actually be possible.

Lastly, I just find it interesting that BBH adopted the Grim Reaper specifically as part of his lore. It’s a very vague concept not cemented in any one religion. Often, it’s never really associated with any one afterlife, just the act of dying itself. Idk I find it extremely noteworthy that BBH has not quite adopted the death aesthetic, but has instead integrated his lore in that transitional period. Not necessarily the afterlife, but the act of dying itself and that journey one takes to the afterlife.

Anyways if you read all this thanks for indulging my rambling lol. I just love love love symbolism in media especially religious symbolism. If I got anything wrong or I missed something please lmk and I’ll fix it!

[rayne-the-neutrois-nerd]

Tell me everything you know about the witch/destroya

I mean, in terms of canon stuff, I just know what was shown in the comics. I'm not sure if Gerard has talked about these two in more depth in interviews or something, but if they have, I'd love to know.

The Phoenix Witch works as a psychopomp, a guide of souls to the afterlife. She does so by collecting the masks left in special mailboxes dedicated to her. Said masks are known to contain the souls of whomever wore it, Killjoy and Drac alike. You cannot pass into the afterlife without someone depositing your mask, or other signifying item of yours into a mailbox. (There are some exceptions though, like The Girl who talks to the Witch after she dies. I suppose The Witch favors some people. I guess this also goes for The Girls Mother, since she apparently got with the Witch and kicked off Witchfucker Wednesday, which Poison desperately tries to accomplish themself).

I tend to think of her as like, The Zones version of Charon, ferryman of the dead, who requires a coin to ferry a soul across the Styx into Hades. I don't really see her as the Zones' Deity of Death, just a guiding hand to find your way from one spot to another. It's not as callous as I feel Charon is usually portrayed though? I feel she'd take a moment to talk with souls who are confused or need help with closure about their death. She prepares them emotionally as well for the afterlife.

I personally think that the Zones religion is more polytheistic, based on how The Witch is treated as a Deity. She's just probably the one that everyone worships and has the biggest role in the Zones. I kinda wanna come up with a few others but I'm not sure what domains or things they should rule over.

My personal headcanons of other symbols associated with her are ravens, based off her raven-like feathers in her design. People especially devoted to her will wear handmade jewelry (necklaces, bracelets) with chunky wooden beads. Since good wood is hard to find, each bead is usually scavenged and probably hold a special meaning to the wearer based on where they found it and the events around it.

DESTROYA always felt very monotheistic to me. It's very much a Savior figure to the androids, with their Graffiti Bible prophesied its rising to save the androids from oppression. (I mean I'm not Christian and never was, but it just feels Jesus-y in themes.)

Something I find super interesting about DESTROYA is that, its a location. It's tangible. You can touch it. Hell, The Nest is literally right next to it. There's absolutely no way to say it isn't real. Maybe some naysayers will say there's no way it'll come back to life, but there is no doubt it's REAL.

I think for human Zone dwellers, its kinda tabboo to mess with DESTROYA. That's the Androids deity afterall. You can climb on it, touch it, whatever like that, but under no circumstance can you take pieces off or graffiti it. Afterall, they'd feel pretty offended if an android vandalized a mailbox or such.

I think maybe its also a semi-closed religion? A sort of android-only thing. I mean I guess humans can like, be mindful and know what the androids believe, but its a bit weird for a human to be devoted to it.

[emsloe]

🍄 and 🌾

Thank you!! I did 🍄 so here's 🌾

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

Hmmmm I’ll do this from Sera’s perspective because she definitely likes him in a romantic sense. I think for her (and Tef, albeit platonically) a big part of it is “here’s a person who understands me.” They’re all queer and they’re outcasts and they’re mentally ill and they’ve Been Through It (tm) in various ways and I think it’s a relief for all three of them to find other people with whom they don’t feel like they have to defend themselves and justify their existence. They can just be. In a more romantic sense, I think Sera likes how careful he is and how studious and how GOOD he is at his job. Good death mechanics will help ferry lost souls across the spirit boundary, if they need to—but I think the first time she really falls for him is when she sees him doing it for small creatures as well. He’ll treat a spider or mosquito’s spirit with the same gentle compassion that he’d show to a human ghost. He goes out of his way for the pigeons, which most people in his community treat as pests. His walks home from his jobs always take a long time because he’s taking care of all the beetle spirits that got stuck in the dead zones. Even during the years where he’s terrified of people, he very much approaches life with an “every living or once-living thing deserves care and respect” philosophy and I think that’s Sera’s favorite thing about him.

[laur-rants]

So anyway, I’ve been drawing a lot of Hisuian Typhlosion lately.....

[rainy-autumn-day]

10 Books to read this Autumn & Halloween🍁🍂🍁

1. Dracula  by Bram Stoker

This start of beautiful season off with something classic and a little scary.

The name of Dracula brings to mind visions of vampires, stakes, garlic, and crucifixes. Yet, when you read the novel, it becomes self-evident how twisted modern vampire fiction now is. The vampires in  this classic story are not meant to inhabit the roles of heroes. Instead you go back a few hundred years when men and women believed truly that the vampire was a real immortal, cursed to quench his undying thirst with a living mortal’s blood. The very idea of a blood drinker should, therefore, inspire the image of a villain and that is what the titular character of this novel is. A villan you can’t help but keep reading about. 

2.  And Then There Were None by  Agatha Christie

Another story that is perfect if you want something that will keep you up at night like it did for me when I read it last year.

There is scarcely any comfort to be found in this book, only an ancient, arcane horror. Ten people receive a mystery letter from someone they don't know that indicates they should come to a remote island. Why would they go????? After arriving, they try to figure out the connection between all of them while waiting for their mysterious host. After coming across a cute little poem about how ten little indians die, they decide they will wait it out until the next morning when the ferry comes back to take them home. But it will never come! Each guest suddenly dies matching the line from a poem. It really keeps you on the edge of your seat.

3.  THE BONE WITCH BY RIN CHUPECO

A story about a young witch just fits so well with this season, but this story is not about a teenage witch =just flying around on a broom. No it’s far darker than that. When Tea accidentally resurrects her brother from the dead, she learns she is different from the other witches in her family. Her gift for necromancy means that she’s a bone witch, a title that makes her feared and ostracized by her community. But Tea finds solace and guidance with an older, wiser bone witch, who takes Tea and her brother to another land for training.In her new home, Tea puts all her energy into becoming an asha—one who can wield elemental magic. But dark forces are approaching quickly, and in the face of danger, Tea will have to overcome her obstacles…and make a powerful choice.

4. Night Film by Marisha Pessl

This story opens in October on a cool evening with a blood chilling scene, it’s really everything you could hope for on a autumn night.

Night Film opens on a cold, cursed October evening, when Ashley Cordova, a young women full of potential, is found dead in a warehouse. Police rule her death a suicide, but investigative journalist Scott McGrath isn't so sure. From that inception point, Scott McGrath enters the strange circumstances surrounding Ashley's life and death, and comes face-to-face with the legacy of her father: the legendary, reclusive cult-horror film director Stanislaus Cordova--a man who hasn't been seen in public for more than thirty years. For McGrath, another death connected to this seemingly cursed family dynasty seems more than just a coincidence. Though much has been written about Cordova's dark and unsettling films, very little is known about the man himself. Driven by revenge, curiosity, and a need for the truth, McGrath, with the aid of two strangers, is drawn deeper and deeper into Cordova's eerie, hypnotic world. The last time he got close to exposing the director, McGrath lost his marriage and his career. This time he might lose even more.

5. Autumn by Ali Smith

Ali Smith's lauded Seasonal quartet, a series of four novels rooted in a different time of year, kicks off with Autumn there we watch as love is won, love is lost. Hope is hand in hand with hopelessness. The seasons roll round, as they always do.

6. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I can’t tell you how many times i have read  this beaful story in my life buti wants have it one my list to read at last once a year and i find it fits so well in to the amazing season that is autumn with   The romantic clash between the opinionated Elizabeth and her proud beau, Mr. Darcy, is a splendid performance of civilized sparring

7.I Know Who You Are by Alice Feeney

This story is haunting and it will stay with you after you read it.

It's dark, twisted and unpredictable until the very last chapter keeping me on the edge of my seat from the very beginning. You are met with the unknown as you meet Aimee Sinclair, an actress who after coming home, she realizes her husband is missing and after that you are sent on a wild ride to find him.

8.Little Women by Louisa May Alcott  

Another classic. I have always found that that reading about a world now gone is so very perfect for autumn, as we watch the leaves we had watch grow turn colors and fly away from us.

Little Women is a beauty told story with each of the sisters seeks out a different form of happiness: Meg wants to marry, Jo wants to be a writer, Beth wants to care for her family, and Amy craves material success. We get to live their world as we following the lives and loves of the four March sisters and their mother as they mature from youth through adolescence and adulthood.

9.Mexican Gothic  by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

If you love gothic horror, this one is for you. It has the same feeling as Jane Eyre but way creepier and set in 1950’s Mexico.

The atmosphere is perfect for the season, a debutante heads to a creepy countryside house, after receiving an ominous letter from her newlywed cousin, and finds the dark secrets that lie within the house and its occupants.

10.The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James

A suspenseful and eerie mystery told via dual timelines all surrounding a rundown roadside motel and the secrets lurking that captivated a woman so much that she went missing in the 1980’s and now have caught the attention of her niece 35 years later. If you love a good mystery mixed with timeline jumping this a perfect one for you.

Bonus

11.The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson

Handmaid’s Tale meets Salem: Born of rebellious feminist resistance by a girl who is branded as cursed because of her mother’s sins and facing the dark powers to make definite and concrete changes at the dystopian, puritanical, secluded society consisted of hypocrisy, ignorance, illogical and unfair laws.

This is another terrifying, fist clenching, soul shivering, mind crushing, heart pounding, forehead sweating, edgy, spooky, bleak, dark journey take you to the dark woods to face the four witches are ready to haunt you in your dreams and place a quite irritating thoughts inside your brains.

[redhoodssweetheart]

Life and Death

Genre: Mythology AU (Orpheus and Eurydice)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes (This is apart of my 1.5K follower celebration, please see post for details.)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, character death

Description:  Natasha and you were happy, but a month after your wedding you are killed by a snake.  Natasha will do anything to get you back, even if it means she has to go into the Underworld to retrieve you.

It’s funny how one moment you can be blissfully happy and then in another moment that happiness is slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.  Natasha and Y/N had been married for nearly a month, their union had been celebrated throughout their small town.  But there were rumors that that love and happiness would only last but a short while.  Some claimed their union was doomed.  There was a prophecy that said that their love would be doomed, that their love, while great, wouldn’t last.

You had worried that the prophecy would come true, but Natasha didn’t put stock into the words from someone she had considered a fraud.  She knew that there would be those who didn’t want her to be happy.  They were jealous of her and wanted to see her fail.  She wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

But it wasn’t a someone that would take you from her. 

“Natasha!”  Steve’s voice sounded from outside.  “Natasha,” her door flung open.  “Come quick, it’s Y/N.”

She dropped the cloth she had been drying her dishes with and followed Steve to the fields where a crowd had gathered.  Soft sobs could be heard coming from several of the people you were closest too.  Wanda was clinging to her husband, her brother stoic beside her.  Then there was Bucky holding onto his wife Sarah.  Sam was knelt by a body on the ground and that was when it hit Natasha that it was you.

“Y/N!”  She cried, landing in the dirt beside you, but you didn’t respond.  You appeared to be asleep and Sam looked at Natasha, tears swimming in his eyes.

“Natasha, I’m sorry… she’s gone,” his voice was hoarse.  “It was snakes, she didn’t see them until it was too late, there was nothing we could do.”

Natasha didn’t want to believe it.  This couldn’t be happening.  This couldn’t be true.  

But a few days later your body was burned on the funeral pyre, a gold coin placed under your tongue for the ferryman.  Natasha clung to Clint, not trusting herself to be able to stand on her own as she watched the fire consume your final resting place.  When it was over she went home alone, collapsing onto the floor and crying there for hours.  The home felt cold without you, your light and happiness seeming to have seeped out of the space.

“I warned you,” she jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to find Stephen sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in his hands.  “I warned you that this would happen, but neither one of you listened.”

Natasha was on him in a moment her hand wrapped around his throat.  “You did this,” she hissed.  “You took away my happiness!”

Stephen looked bored and unbothered by her, “I did nothing of the sort.  I wished no ill will on you or your beloved.  I am merely a messenger for the gods and they told me that this union would only end in tragedy.  Lady Hera did not bless this union.”

“I didn’t ask for a blessing, I just wanted happiness.  A lifetime of misery and she was the one thing that made me happy.  Why must we be punished for a single, stupid blessing?”  Her hand tightened and still he seemed so unbothered by the fact that she was moments away from killing him.  All her old training coming back, she had been bred for war and though she hadn’t taken a life in years she wasn’t opposed to taking one more.

“Do you want to know how to get her back?”  Stephen arched an eyebrow.

Her grip loosened, “How?”

“You must travel to the Underworld, make a bargain with Lord Hades.  His wife is with him, he tends to be softer when she’s around.  He may grant you your wish of getting your wife back,” Stephen maneuvered out from under her, a sheet of paper in his hands.  “This is the closest entrance to the Underworld.  Sleep on it.”  

She clutched the map in her hands, she knew where the entrance was, and when she looked up to ask him if she could truly trust him, he was gone.  Glancing back at the map she felt determination set into her bones and she began to pack.

Steve appeared at Natasha’s home the following morning to see how she was doing and discovered that she was packing.  “Nat, what on earth are you doing?”

She didn’t even look up as she wrapped her bread in a cloth, “I’m getting Y/N back.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “That’s not possible.”

She held up the map to the Underworld, “I’m going to go and make a bargain with Hades himself.”  She turned and faced her friend, “I have to try this Steve, I love her.  We got one month together when we deserved a lifetime.  She deserved more than what she got.  I have to try and give her the second chance at life.”

Steve thought that this was the craziest idea that he had ever heard but he walked over and helped her finish packing.  When she went to leave, he kissed her cheek and wished her good luck.  He didn’t know if she would succeed or fail, but he hoped that she would be all right either way.

It took several days for Natasha to reach the entrance to the Underworld.  She passed through several villages and replenished her supplies before reaching the cavern that would lead her down into the place where mortals were not allowed.  She had heard of one other that had attempted this.  His name had been Hercules and he had been trying to pay off his sins for murdering his entire family.

She dove into the darkness and headed down, down, down.  When she emerged from the darkness she found herself on the banks of a river.  Souls were milling around hoping for someone to give them a way across.  They eyed Natasha warily and she made her way toward the docks.  A ferry was waiting and Charon knew instantly that she was not one of the dead.

“I only ferry souls, mortal,” his tone relayed that he was bored.

She produced a coin, “Please, I have payment.”

Charon eyed the coin and motioned for her to board.  As they sailed he said, “Lord Hades will not be pleased to see yet another mortal show up on his doorstep.”

“I have no other choice,” her voice was soft.

The rest of the ride was silent and he dropped her off at the other side of the river.  His final words to her were the directions to the palace.  Along the way she ran into Cerberus and managed to charm him into letting her pass.  Then she saw the palace of the Lord of the Underworld looming before her.  It appeared to be carved out of the very rock that the walls of the Underworld were made of.  It was grand and exactly how she had imagined it would be.

She pushed the doors open and headed down the long halls, crystal chandeliers casting colorful rainbows along the walls and floors, paintings of fields and wildlife decorated the walls, and a plush wine colored rug was beneath her feet.

Several spirits eyed her as she moved through the halls looking for the throne room.  She wasn’t sure how, but she knew instinctively where to go.  It was almost as if an invisible force was pulling her in that direction.  When she arrived the doors were open and before her Hades and Persephone sat on their thrones.  She paused before them, staring at them.  She had never been before a god before, let alone two.

“What brings a mortal to my realm before her time is up?”  His voice was deep and commanding.

Natasha squared her shoulders and said, “I’ve come to retrieve my wife Y/N.  She died too soon.”

“Too soon?”  Hades questioned.  “It is my belief that her thread of life had been cut?  Are you a Fate?  Did you make a mistake?  Tell me, mortal, how do you know that her life ended too soon?”

“She didn’t deserve to die like that,” Natasha said.  “We had our whole lives ahead of us, she was good and kind, and I can’t live my life without her beside me.”

Persephone put a hand on her husband’s arm, “What would you do to get me back, my love?”

He looked toward her and Natasha felt hope blooming inside her.  “Please,” she begged, pulling the gods’ attention back to her.  “I have done many terrible things in my life, but Y/N was the one thing that I did do right.  If she was punished because she chose me then she shouldn’t have been.  Give me one chance.”

Hades contemplated her words, “All right, I will give you a chance to be reunited with your mortal love.  But you have to prove to me that you are worthy of this.  When she takes your hand you may not look upon her face until the both of you are out of the Underworld.  Trust that she will follow you home to the realm above.  Only then can you have her back.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she sighed.  “Thank you.”

A hand took hers and she jumped, fighting the urge to look back to see your face again.  She squeezed your hand and began to lead you away from the palace and the Underworld.

Persephone looked at her husband and asked, “Do you think they will make it?”

Hades watched the door where the two of them had disappeared, “I do not know my love, but she will not get this chance again if she fails.”

Meanwhile you followed Natasha, you did not know of the deal she had made with Hades.  You did not know that she was not allowed to look at you until you both reached the mortal realm.  You wondered why she would not speak, why she was so quiet.  You did not ask and you did not falter in your steps.  She led you up and up and you realized where you were going.

Home.

She was taking you back home.

The two of you climbed higher and higher, you could see the light from the world of the living before you.  Natasha still hadn’t turned and you held onto her tighter.  Her feet crossed over the threshold of the Underworld and she began to turn, but you were still in the darkness, still in the cave.

When her eyes beheld yours she smiled widely, she had made it, you were home.  But then your fingers melted through hers as if you weren’t really there and your soul went flying back into the darkness below.  Natasha let out a scream and lunged forward only to be met with solid rock.  She had been so close.  She thought that you had both made it out, but she should have gone farther just to be sure.

She let out a sob, there would be no second chances this time.

Hades sighed, he had felt your soul return.  “She was so close,” he murmured.

Persephone kissed her husband’s cheek, “They will find their way back to one another someday, my love.  As they always have.”

He looked at your soul, waiting at the edge of Elysium for Natasha to return, patient as always.

Many Years Later

Natasha exited the coffee shop, the hustle and bustle of New York City filling her ears.  She checked her phone and saw that she had a missed message from Steve telling her to get to the Tower as quickly as she could.  Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed down the street.  Her cup of coffee keeping her hands warm, fall had just arrived and things were beginning to cool down.

She felt her phone buzz again and cursed Steve.  She was on her way.  As she reached for it she glanced down for merely a moment and bumped into someone.  Her coffee landed on the ground, steaming as it poured from the cup.  “I’m so sorry!”  A new voice said.  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Natasha looked up to find you standing there looking at her with an anxious look.  You weren’t sure if she was going to yell at you or not.  “It’s all right, accidents happen.”

“At least let me buy you a new one,” you offered.  “I’ll feel bad the entire day if I don’t.”

The offer was tempting, but her phone was buzzing again alerting her to yet another message from Steve.  “I can’t right now, I’m late for something, but maybe some other time.”  She pulled a scrap piece of paper from her bag and scrawled her name and number on it.  “Text me and give me a date and time.”

You smiled at her and she felt as though her breath had been taken, “All right, Natasha.  It’s a date.”

You moved past her and she was just staring at you when she felt her phone begin to ring, “God damnit, Steve, I’m on my way!”  She snapped as she tore her eyes away from you and began heading toward the tower.

Nearby at a little bistro two people sat watching the interaction, “I told you so.”  Persephone grinned at her husband and he sighed.

“As you always are, my dear,” he gave her a fond look and her cheeks heated just a bit.  “What do I owe you this time?”

“Dinner,” she said.  “Someplace nice.  Maybe we could make a vacation out of it.”

He leaned in and kissed her lips, “Your wish is my command.”

A year later Natasha proposed to you and you happily agreed.  This time your marriage didn’t end in tragedy, but you lived out the rest of your days together at last.

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love 21

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi 

Chapter Summary: You flee the Obsidian Palace and Yoongi realizes what he’s done

 Previous chapter here

Yoongi stood there, his hands shaking and his chest heaving. He walked over to his desk and sobbed, cries racking his body.  What the hell was he doing?

He looked over to the fireplace; a pile of blankets lay still as if waiting for you to walk back in and sit. He shuddered. I love you playing over and over in his head. He didn’t deserve love. He especially didn’t deserve it now. Yes. You should return to the mortal realm. When Hoseok came to the party, ,you should return with him. Yoongi would do whatever it took to bargain with Namjoon and get you out of the contract. It would be better that way. 

Yoongi sat down in his office chair, mentally drained. This too shall pass. He told himself trying to calm down. I love you I love you. Dammit. He tried to concentrate on his defense strategies to review with Hephaestus tomorrow. He ran his hands through his hair. He saw a piece of paper on the corner of his desk and turned it over.

My Dear Hoseok,

I will not be returning to the Mortal Realm for a while. I am enjoying my time here in the Underworld. It was surprising at first, but Lord Yoongi actually appreciates me and values my time and companionship. I will do my best to return in the Spring to help usher in the new Season, but as you have said many times before “you don’t need me” since I’m “Just the flower Goddess.” Take care of yourself and don’t worry about me.

Love always,

Persephone 

Yoongi rubbed his face. What had he done? It was for the best. The Underworld wasn’t safe. There was something potentially getting ready to attack the palace. He had to attend reapings two to three times a day. He was a terrible companion. And yet. You had known that and still said you loved him. Fuck. He heard a knock on the door.

“Go away.” He shouted. 

“Sir, I think you would want to hear about this.”

Yoongi sighed heavily, recognizing Lethe’s voice. He looked across the office, towards the door and remembered the shards of glass. He let the fact he was an asshole wash over him once more. He stood up and walked over to the door, carefully cracking it open.

“Yes?” He asked. 

Lethe struggled to catch her breath, "Sir, the servant who went to feed Holly says one of the rowboats is gone. Another servant says they saw Lady Persephone leaving the Great Hall. I’ve checked the castle and can’t find her anywhere,” the concern was evident in her voice. 

Shit shit shit shit. Yoongi hadn’t even considered that you would actually try to leave. Shit shit. Before he could respond to Lethe he found himself running down the stairs, running through the great hall, and running across the bridge.

Oh Gods you were out there wandering the desert or the sea or somewhere. The Underworld wasn’t safe at all outside of the Palace and he had no idea what was happening to the North.  He cursed himself for overreacting. If something happened, he would never forgive himself. He looked around for footprints, but the sand dunes changed so quickly he couldn't see anything. He jogged down into the cavern and over to the docks and that’s when he saw a rope dangling into the water. No. He took the other boat, quickly rowing up to the gate. “Holly. Open the gate boy.”

To his shock, Holly did not respond to him.

“Holly, I mean it. Open up this gate.” Holly poked one of his heads around into the cave and growled at Yoongi. “Hey what the…”’ it dawned on him, “You’re mad about Persephone aren't you?” One of Holly’s other heads let out a whining sound.  “I’m trying to go and get her Holly. I need you to open the gate.” Holly didn’t seem to forgive him yet, but he begrudgingly walked over and picked up the chain to open the door.

Yoongi started rowing as though your life depended on it, because it very much did.

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

This was such a stupid idea, you thought. While the Stygian sea had seemed tame, you quickly found out that it was not. As soon as you left the harbor, the winds picked up, rapidly pushing you East. There was very little you could do other than duck down into the boat as the wind became increasingly cold.  This was it. You thought. You were going to freeze to death in the Cocytus Sea. You had read about this in the Compendium. You laid there, on the bottom the wooden boat to get out of the wind. You felt the boat rock back and forth with increasing fervor. 

What had you done to deserve this? Why were you ever deemed property? Why had Namjoon decided to mess with everyone? Why did the Olympic Gods suck? You found yourself thinking about Yoongi. He had been so angry. He threw you away even after you told him you loved him. You could feel the sadness of the sea washing over you and into you. You heard the eerie wailing of souls and you knew better than to peer over the side of the boat. Cocytus was a punishment. The legendary dragon, Lucifer, was said to keep the sea icy with the beating of his wings; constantly beating back any souls that would attempt to cross into the other realms of the underworld. At this very moment, as your tears began to freeze against your face, you wondered if Lucifer was real. Oh well. Did it matter? What was the point of existing in a world where you were just property being transferred back and forth. 

You willed your eyes to stay open; afraid if you closed them for too long you might not wake up. Where did Gods go when they died? Elysium? You laughed, a dry sad sound. Can you imagine the look on Yoongi’s face if you were in one of Charon’s ferries? Would he care then. 

The absolute dread overtook you. You sat up, looking out into the sea. The grey bodies beneath the surface called out to you. Their hands pressed against the sides of the boat. It would be so easy to just slip in. Slip into nothingness.

No. A small part of you yelled. No. You pulled back, rubbing the ice crystals off your eyes. You heard a faint roaring sound in your ears. It wasn’t loud, but it was strong enough to cover the wailing of the souls. What was that? The boat continued to move and you found yourself getting warmer. The ice around the boat began to thaw. You felt better. Less like dying. You were still sad about Yoongi, but at least the existential dread had passed. Unfortunately, as you looked further towards the East, you saw why. Next up in the shitty surprises of the Underworld was the Inferno. 

---------

Yoongi headed East, pushing himself along with his magic and hoping to somehow catch up with you. Fuck. Fuck. It was cold here. He smacked at the hands of the souls who were trying to reach up into the boat. He had never thought the dead creepy, but after visiting Cocytus, he was starting to have second thoughts. These people deserved to be here. He smacked another one. “Save us.. Save us Oh Lord. Please.” He heard the pleading. 

“Do your penance. I’m not here for you.” He yelled angrily into the water. The wailing continued, growing louder and louder, each cry hitting him in waves until finally he had had “ENOUGH!” He stood up and roared across the sea. It was as though his words themselves sent a shockwave that passed over the water. The icy fog lifted and the wailing stopped. Yoongi heard a hissing sound behind him and he turned.

“Lucifer. We meet again.” NEXT CHAPTER

@sugas-bbygirl​  twilight-loveer ​

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch.  "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[tomtenadia]

Island Dreams - Chapter 5

Hello readers :) Just one chapter tonight but it's just shy of 4k words so hopefully it will do fine :)

so... bit of angst coming. Apologies there is a bit of fluff too but not what you hope. Please don't hate Elias. He is my secret weapon to bring our two idiots together. So just be nice to him.

Fun facts: 1. I adore Roald Dahl like our trio. 2. The scene at Luskentyre with the dark clouds and the savage rain. Been there done that. Luckily I saw it in the sun as well. 3. I hug standing stones. I am a serial hugger. Hugged the ones at Callanish and have a few photos of me hugging stones in Orkney as well.

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

A week had passed.

Rowan opened the bookshop on time as usual. Switched on the lights and the computer and went to the back and dragged to the counter the bulky box containing the orders that had arrived the previous night.

Once he cracked the box open he realised Aelin’s was at the top, staring at him. He sighed, took the book and sat on the stool behind his counter. For a whole week he hated himself for what he said to her. He had definitely gone too far and he had to find a way to apologise and make it up to her for his dreadful behaviour.

Gently he flipped the book in his hands and read a couple of random pages and smiled. He was positive she was going to love the last book in the series and a part of him was quite eager to discuss the book with her.

He had read the series a long time ago and loved it. Flipping through the pages he found some of the lines he loved and a tenuous smile appeared on his face at the thought that Aelin reminded him so much the female main character in the book. 

Both of them had fire in them.

He hadn’t seen her in a week and Maeve told him that she hadn’t been at the coffee shop either.

His aunt’s words still haunted him. She is just as lost as you are.

What could have happened to her? She always appeared to him as full of life and quite energetic, but he guessed that might be a mask she would wear for stranger, for people who were not close to her. He wanted to meet the real Aelin, problems at all. He thought pondered on his aunt’s words. What if she really was the key to get out of the funk he had been stuck for a while? What if he could help her as well? He admitted that he wanted to be his friend and he was going to prove it to her.

Deep down though he knew he had another reason, a bit more selfish. He found her attractive. More than that. The first day in the shop she had taken his breath away. And she loved books probably just as much as he did. Something that Lyria… no. He was not going there. 

He closed his eyes and tried to picture Aelin. Her funny attempts to use Gaelic gave him fuzzy feelings. 

He had spent a week mulling and thinking about her. He could not stop doing that. She had made him feel again. But the idea terrified him. He had committed completely to a woman once. He gave her all of him, his love, trust, respect and heart. And she destroyed everything. He sighed and put the book on the shelf behind him where he kept all the orders to be collected. He had to find a way to tell her her book was here. In his anger he forgot to take her phone number or address and now he was stuck. He only had to hope that she would remember and pop in in the shop. If he could see her one more time and apologise…

He was busy unpacking when the bell rang and a dark-haired man entered the shop.

“Good morning, can I help you?”

The man looked at him and smiled “Yes, definitely. I am looking for a book. Something on Callanish.” He explained looking around the shop with interest “It’s for a woman. It’s a present. She is new here and I would like to give her a welcome to the islands present. She just visited Callanish for the first time and she loved it.”

Rowan felt sick for a moment. Was that guy talking about Aelin? Because the description sounded very similar. Sadness hit him. So she was doing fine after all. She did not need him.

“I have a nice selection. Ranging form the usual tourist guide to something more fascinating and historical.” And he showed the guy the books. The stranger took one of the bigger ones. One of his favourites.

“That is a great one.” He added pointing at the one the guy was holding in his hands “It has info about the archeological excavations, theories about its use and it connects to the mythology as well. It’s quite complete. Your friend will love it.”

The man smiled again and kept the book.

“Can I just have a look around?”

Rowan nodded keeping an eye on the man. Could it be that he was talking about Aelin? He did his best to convince himself that it was just a coincidence. It had to be. But sadness struck anyway. He had planned to  get that book for Aelin. He was positive she would have adored it. And now chances were another man was going to give it to her.

The man came back with a second book. A colouring book of the Hebrides “I have a feeling Aelin will love them.”

Rowan stopped. His world froze. And his heart was beating furiously in his chest.

“She is a lucky woman.” Rowan forced himself to say. “Would you like me to wrap them since it’s a present.”

“That would be amazing if it’s not too much trouble.”

Rowan took a deep breath and steadied his hands.

“You have a great place here. And I love your Roald Dahl display.”

Those words stung. That was one of the first things Aelin had said to him.

“Big fan.” Was all that Rowan managed ignoring the roaring fury rising in him. At his stupidity. His bad temper. That could have been him if only he had been able to control himself and be nice for once in his life.

“When I was little I was obsessed with James and the Giant Peach.” The man continued while Rowan was working on wrapping the books. He had a feeling that Aelin was a big fan of Matilda.

“Here we go.” Rowan passed the present to the man.

The stranger paid and left the shop.

Rowan sat in silence for a while then stood, turned the sign of the shop to closed, switched off the lights, locked the door and went home.

All of a sudden he did not feel in the mood anymore to deal with people.

He grabbed his car and drove in silence until he reached his favourite spot on the islands. He went to the Butt of Lewis, sat on the edge of the cliff and admired the sea raging against the cliffs, mirroring perfectly his current mood.

Aelin had taken a day off from exploring. She had driven a lot the previous days and she needed a break from here car. She had gone back to Luskentyre, however this time she was not so lucky with the weather. An horrible storm had hit once there. And still, the place was stunning. The dark clouds heavy with rain seemed to enhance the blues and green of the water. A strange light had embraced the bay and the sand appeared even whiter. Then the rain hit and she thought she had never seen a rainstorm so brutal. She had stayed in the car and waited it out. Being Scotland, the weather was very changeable and ten minutes later the sun was out and the most amazing rainbow arched across the beach. Not a single one of her photo did any justice to the beauty in front of her.

She was now wandering around Stornoway and convinced herself to go to Rowan’s shop. It had been a week and her book should have arrived. The last one had ended in an epic cliffhanger and now she needed to know. It was a matter of life or death.

She turned the corner and a strange feeling overcame her when she noticed the lights off. At the entrance door a sign said Dùinte and underneath Closed in English. It was almost noon, how was it possible it was closed? Rowan was punctual to a fault. Was he sick? She wished she had his mobile number to get in touch with him. 

She was worried. 

But most of all she realised she missed him. Yes, they barely knew each other and they didn’t have the best of the beginnings, but still…

She sighed and walked away.

In that instant Elias texted her. She had caved in the end and texted him. They had started chatting. That morning he had told her that he was in town and they agreed to meet.

He was waiting for her at the parking near the ferry terminal. She tucked her sadness away and walked toward the terminal.

She had debated every day since she gave Elias her number if she had done the right thing. 

She clearly felt something for Rowan. What it was, she still wasn’t sure. And although he had been grumpy and they fought, something about him resonated within her. As if his soul somehow called out to hers. 

The rational part of her quickly rejected the idea as the twisted and unachievable idea of love that her books had given her over the years.

Human’s relationships were nothing but pain. 

For a moment she argued to herself that for some inexplicable reason his soul had somehow resonated with Rowan’s. That if they were in a book instead, someone would have pointed out that the pining was due to them being soulmates.

A minute later after that thought she snorted loudly.

They were everything but. They weren’t even friends. 

What about enemies to lovers? She snorted again and closed the distance to where Elias was waiting for her.

There were more chances of Rowan strangling her than them becoming friends.

All that mental gymnastics to convince herself that texting Elias was good. That she was not betraying Rowan.

But at the same time she felt a horrible person. She had no idea what she wanted from Elias. She was not ready yet to commit again. But still, she didn’t want to mislead him. He seemed such a nice guy. Hurting was the last thing she wanted to do to him.

Aelin finally arrived at the car park and saw him. He was as tall as Rowan. He was standing beside his car. Sunglasses on his head, dark shorts, a light blue polo shirt hugged his upper body nicely and she could not force her gaze away from him. He was stunning.

But he is not Rowan a voice said in her head and she told it to shut up.

“Hello.” He waved at her and she noticed his bright smile and his two dimples make their appearance. She had forgotten his smile.

“Hey.” She said joining him near his car “Nice car by the way. Being an engineer must pay really well.” She joked and hoped she hadn’t gone too far as her usual.

“Love a woman with a good taste in cars. It’s a Tesla. Cost me a kidney but this baby it’s worth it.”

“Of course you get a Tesla. You are an environmental engineer so an electric car makes sense. If you were a book character you’d be considered perfectly in character.”

Elias laughed loudly at the joke. Then he opened the door, and grabbed something from the car “For you. A welcome to the islands gift.”

Aelin took the present and froze when she noticed the sticker on top. The present came from Rowan’s bookshop. All of a sudden she forgot how to breath. At least she did manage to hide her shaky hands from Elias.

She opened the present and squealed in delight when she noticed the book about Callanish and underneath a colouring book. She put the second on the roof of the car and opened the first one. Inside the dust jacket she noticed a small note. That, definitely did not belong there. The calligraphy was neat Your book is here. I guess you want to know what happens after the cliffhanger. Then at the bottom of the note I am sorry. R.

How did he know that Elias was giving her the book? A wave of panic hit her.

Sneakily she hid the note from Elias and pretended to browse the book, but her mind kept going back to Rowan’s message. Her heart was hammering in her chest, so much that it almost hurt. The words I am sorry resonating in her head like an echo.

“Glad you loved the books. I forgot there was a nice bookshop in town. I got it from there. The one about Callanish came with a recommendation from the owner.” Aelin felt like crying. She was just picturing Rowan helping Elias pick the book for her. Why was she feeling like that for a man who had clearly told her that she meant nothing to him? Why was she caring so much?

Had Lysandra been there she would have told her to drop the grumpy guy and take the nice one. 

She stretched and gave Elias a little peck on the cheek “Thank you. They are perfect. Now I just need some pencils for the colouring book.”

“That, we can fix easily.” Elias went around the car and opened the other door for her “Hop in.”

Aelin looked at him puzzled “I thought we were staying in town.”

“No way, there is still so much for you to see.”

“I am in a Tesla.” She commented ecstatic and noticed Elias grinning. “I don’t have car. In London it’s a nightmare. Traffic is horrendous and parking near my house is just non existent. Luckily the tube takes me to work easily.”

“On the islands the only traffic jam you experience is cattle, sheep and the annoying tourists driving motorhomes where they shouldn’t and going at a slow pace because they have to take a photo of every single piece of grass.”

Aelin laughed “I got stuck in the middle of a flock of sheep the other day. I was along the Golden Road.”

“Well, that was your baptism of fire and you passed it.”

Half an hour later they were crossing a bridge. Elias explained to her that they were heading for Great Bernera. As soon as they cleared the bridge he pulled over and parked the car at the small picnic area. She got out and stood immobile for a moment to take in the beauty of the landscape.all around her. Then Elias grabbed her hand and he pulled toward the left. She looked up and she noticed some standing stones and she felt giddy.

“Come on.”

They climbed the short path and they reached the stones.

Aelin went to hug them and she made Elias laugh out loud “that is a very unusual reaction.” Then he took his  phone and took a photo “Now I can bribe you until eternity.”

Aelin dismissed him with a rude gesture and kept hugging the stone.

“You are hugging Callanish VIII.”

Aelin gasped in surprise.

“This place is quite peculiar. It is a semi circle and not a full circle and according to the archaeologists it was never a full circle. No one knows what it was for. However, according to the local folklore, due to its strange configuration and location, on a calm winter day when the sun is low a strange experience might occur. If you walk between the tall stone and the water a double shadow is cast on the stone. One shadow is produced by the sun and the other by the sun’s reflection on the water.” He explained, his gaze fixed on the horizon. 

“I tried plenty of times but no luck.”

He walked behind her and tugged her to his chest, leaning his chin on her shoulder. Elias then took her hand and pointed “There,” he said “over there you have Callanish. The main site.”

She leaned against his hard chest and took comfort in the nice feeling.

“That is so awesome.”

“I am pretty sure your book will have a part about these stones.” His breath was gentle against her ear and she shivered in pleasure at the feeling.

“Let’s go. We haven’t reached our final destination yet.” He moved away and for a brief second she missed the warmth of his body against hers.

They got back in the car and they drove for a bit longer. The road was narrow but Elias drove with the experience of a local and she felt pretty safe. 

They finally reached a parking area and she was ready to get out again.

“The islands are quite amazing for their historical sites.” He started, offering his hand to her.

She took it and he smiled tenderly. His thumb gently brushing the top of her hand.

“Are you ready for a visit to the iron age?”

They walked in silence for a short stretch along the wall of a cemetery and then she noticed the Iron Age house. Elias paid the pound to get into the house, but she was more interested in the stunning beach she had spotted at the end of the path. Once out of the house she took running toward the beach and Elias followed until he grabbed at her waist “You ungrateful witch. I am showing you an historical site and all you care is the beach.”

Aelin laughed and turned to him, their faces dangerously close “Sorry, but the beach looks soooooo amazing”

Elias let her go and playfully pushed her away “Go. Have fun.”

She smiled at him and walked toward the beach, removed her shoes and walked in the water. That had become her ritual.

Bosta beach was another gem. A hidden one, it looked like.

Elias joined her in the water and stood beside her, their arms touching “When I was young, my brother and I used to come here and kayak. See the islands in front of us?” He pointed and Aelin nodded “That is little Bernera. The only way to get there is by boat. On the the side there is a beach that is something out of this world. Untouched. Pristine. With waters of colours so bright that they might not be real.”

She turned to him and looked at Elias in the eyes. And they were bright, full of joy

“You have a childish streak.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“No, that came out wrong. What I meant is that you seem to tackle life with the same joy a kid does. The way you hugged the stone, or how you run just now or your face when you saw the books. It’s contagious.” With a hand he caressed her face.

She should pull away and break that contact, but she couldn’t because she realised she missed it. So in the end she leaned into his touch, basking in the feeling of his hand on her cheek.

“Tha thu bóidheach…” he whispered “You are beautiful.” He repeated in English.

Aelin broke the contact and went to sit down on the sand. She needed a moment to collect herself. To unravel the set of conflicted emotions battling inside her.

In front of her there was Elias. A wonderful man who seemed quite keen to be in her company. Who was intelligent and fascinating and sweet. A man capable of making her heart race madly. He was perfect. He was handsome. Unbelievably so. And then there was Rowan. Who was… maddening. They were nothing and no chance of their status changing anytime soon.

She sighed.

Elias sat beside her “did I do something wrong?” His blue eyes fixed on her “What I said and did… sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Aelin shook her head. He was considerate and with his face mere centimetres from hers she realised she just wanted to kiss him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she explained and wondered if it was the time to open up to someone else. But Maeve’s word replayed in her head. You can help each other. He is stuck too. She wanted to open up to Rowan. According to Maeve he was suffering for something too. She wanted him to open up to her. She knew it felt wrong. She could not open up to Elias. That was something that belonged to Rowan. Of that she was sure.

“I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Are you seriously telling me that in the whole of London there is not a single man who’d consider himself lucky to have you?”

“I can be a handful.”

“My brother has three kids under the age of ten. I can handle handful. Believe me.”

Aelin laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder “And why a guy like you is single?”

“The missus had a side thing with her boss. They eloped. She got pregnant and now she lives the grand life in Edinburgh with the money she got from the divorce and got stuck with the kid. He was rich. Filthy rich and she just wiped him clean.”

“And you were married to her?”

“Oh yeah. I was young and stupid. We lasted two years.”

“Probably you didn’t earn enough big bucks.”

Elias laughed genuinely “Aye, I was a poor nobody compared to her second husband.”

“Her loss,” Aelin added.

He tuned his head surprised by that remark. His face inched closer and hesitated for a second, then finally kissed her

Aelin resisted him for a moment, but then she melted in the kiss. His lips were soft. The kiss started gentle but then it got harder and she could feel need seeping from it.

His hands went to her back and slowly pushed her on the sand on her back. Aelin run her hands in his hair and pulled him closer.

She nibbled his lower lip and the sound he made awoke something at her core. His hands slid to her sides and he traced the length of her body. She closed her eyes and froze. A pair of green eyes appeared in her vision. Rowan’s face floated in front of her and she froze. She sat up quickly.

“Not on the beach near a tourist attraction.” She stood and patted the sand away from her clothes using it as an excuse to put some distance between them. 

Slowly she gathered the courage to look at him and she saw hurt in his blue eyes.

“You are right. Being arrested for sex in public is not in my today’s plan.” And the dimples came back.

“I am sorry I…” she fumbled.

He got closer and kissed tenderly on her lips “No need to apologise.” Then he patted her hair. “You are covered in sand.”

In silence they walked back to the car and even on the journey home she struggled to say more than a few words. She held her book on her legs and kept thinking at the message inside and how she will face Rowan the next day.

“I can drop you off at your place.”

“No, the car park is fine. It’s a nice evening. I don’t mind the stroll.”

“Ok, mo charaid.”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him “Thank you for the books and for today. I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he kissed her back.

Aelin broke the kiss and left the car. He got out and leaned on the roof “Text me.”

“I will do, mo charaid”

Elias laughed “you are so sexy when you try to speak Gaelic.”

Aelin blew him a kiss and walked away.

When she was almost home she leaned against the small wall separating the road from the marina and looked toward the town. To the spot where Rowan’s shop was.

And wondered what he was doing.

Wondered if he missed her as well.

[leah-halliwell92]

Daughter of Darkness

Summary: Leaving the island had been a backup plan…and a last resort. She didn’t want to leave home, but by Hera had their actions driven her to. She’d grown restless with their stares and whispers…no more. But little did she that leaving had set her on a path she could never have imagined.

Chapter 1

Previously:

“Oh it did,” Dick said laying back down, “He was beyond pissed, but I passed out from the blood loss before I could see or hear anything else.”

“She…made me chose in a way,” Bruce said quietly as he stared off avoiding any and all eye contact, “After killing the Joker, she asked me if letting him live was worth the risk of losing Dick…of losing my son.”

Chapter 2

The following morning Bruce woke with a painful grunt as the hits he took the night before made themselves known. He looked around rubbed his eyes as he remembered he’d fallen asleep next to Dick’s bed in the batcave. He went to stretch to take off the suit’s under layer and winced. 

“You should take the day off Bruce,” Dick said from place on the bed as he let out a yawn, “Those look bad.”

“The batman can take the day off I guess,” he conceded before giving dick an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

“You know they’re gonna call right?” Dick said as he adjusted the bed’s back to sit up. 

Bruce gave him a look and pulled up the grey under shirt of the suit. At Dick’s audible gasp he knew he needed an ice bath. 

“He got you bad man,” Dick said softly, “Speaking of getting...who was the girl?”

“That’s good question,” Bruce said, “And a better question is how she knew where we were at all.”

“Think she could be meta?” Dick asked with a shrug, curiosity in his voice.

“Has to be for her to not only know where we are but help us the way she did,” Bruce said making his way to the main computer.

“Hey! Don’t leave me here when I can help!” Dick called after Bruce.

The older man had to chuckle at his boy’s antics, and realized he’d be sad to see him go back to Blüdhaven. He also knew that if Dick didn’t return to said city then they’d both have Barb to deal with...and that is not something either of them need at the moment. So he saved himself a second headache and brought the bagged dagger up to where Dick is so they could at least make some basic observations on it.

“Awww and he takes pity on my crippled form,” Dick said dramatically, cracking a grin.

“Ha ha ha,” Bruce said cracking his own grin despite the joke, “We both you if you wanted to be out of that bed you’d have gotten up the second you saw me leave.”

“And risk having Alfred and Barb jump down both our throats? No way man,” the younger man said hands up in mock surrender, “I like not having a headache so soon after waking up from getting stabbed. Plus its not like she won’t yell at us anyway for the same thing.”

Bruce had to give Dick that one and said, “Might as well take advantage of this while we can then.”

Dick started out laughing before it turned into a violent coughing fit.

Bruce checked his bandages making sure nothing had been torn in that hacking fit, and to make sure Dick was ok for himself.

“I’m fine Bruce,” Dick said waving the older man away back to his chair, “Just need to remember to not laugh so hard.”

Bruce shook his head and passed Dick the dagger.

Dick took it and turned it over in his hands.

“It looks old,” he said after a moment of consideration, “And not that it is old time wise. But that this looks like it was made recently if how well the blade and hilt are when you think about usage. It doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen from anywhere we’ve been. If it was made on earth it has to be from either a lost culture or a culture that has yet to be re-discovered.”

Bruce nodded and took the dagger back.

“Is there any information on it?” Dick asked with a yawn. 

Bruce gave the young man a half grin, God knew how he had lived this long to raise such enigmatic boys.

“Sleep, if there is I’ll wake you,” Bruce said standing to let Dick get the rest he so desperately needs, “As for information...I’m pretty sure Alfred’s had that running before we got out of bed this morning.”

“Come one B!” Dick called out to Bruce, “At least promise me you’ll knock me out fully if Barb comes by! Please!?”

Bruce walked away chuckling as he did. He forwent going to whatever scrap of information there was on the blade and decided on taking it easy for once. Lord knew he’d need what little strength he had for when the rest of the family called.

~/~

Meanwhile...

Anna was laying on her hotel bed doing some work for the exhibit that opens the following day when the Skype screen popped up with a call.

She heaved a tired sigh at the caller ID, and thought about whether or not she should fall prey to that childish desire to not pick up. 

In the end she decided the reprimand was not worth it so answered and with a tired smile said, “Bonjour Diana.”

“Good evening Anna,” she said with an equally tired grin, “You look like you’ve taken on something.”

“As do you...Wonder Woman,” Anna replied with a playful smirk.

Diana sighed at this still not used being as in the open as she was.

“He’d have loved seeing you live Diana. There’s no need to live hung up on a memory,” Anna said treading carefully as she spoke.

To her surprise, Diana nodded and said, “I’ve lived so quietly for so long, that...”

“Being out there and showing that there is someone there to fight for them is as difficult as staying in and living that quiet life,” Anna finished for her with an understanding nod.

Diana nodded and said, “You are in Gotham for the week yes?”

“I am...and I’ve already had a run in with the Batman,” she said, a small smile appearing on her face as she thought back to those moments.

Diana’s eyes widened, “You...”

“I did not go looking for him Diana,” Anna said sharply, “I had no sooner gotten to my hotel that I’d...felt this chill in the air. It’s summer Diana and I felt as if I’d walked into solid ice. No it’s not the room’s AC, I checked it, this felt as if...as if someone was going to die.”

“A premonition?” Diana asked incredulously.

“Not that but...a feeling, then the Shades arrived all referring to three souls and one they hungered for,” Anna explained as she thought back.

“What happened?” Diana asked both curious and worried.

“As we do as amazons...I went to investigate,” Anna said with a sigh, “I was lead to a warehouse on the pier. Diana I swear I heard the laughing from outside.”

Diana closed her eyes and shivered. It had been years since she’s come across a foe that enjoyed killing enough to find it laughable.

“Diana...it’s been an age since I had come across a man who enjoyed torturing other beings as much as this one did,” Anna said wrapping her arms around herself, “He reeked of death Diana. The Shades that were with me flew about the batman and his partner as one would expect of such warriors but nothing compared to how they reacted to who held them hostage.”

“I’ve heard that one of the most known criminals calls himself the Joker,” Diana said evenly, “An unconventional criminal, with a very long trail of deaths behind him.”

Anna nodded at this somberly and said, “Psychopath Diana, he was a psychopath. It was clear he had tortured both men but for how long I do not know.”

Diana gasped as Anna went into detail of what she’d seen, how the Joker behaved and how he clearly enjoyed breaking the Batman from the inside out.

“What happened next Anna?” Diana asked when Anna went silent, “Adanna!”

Anna looked up at Diana and heaved a sigh and said, “I was not going to ferry the young man’s soul across the river Diana.”

Diana’s eyes widened at the implication.

“I...Killed the Joker,” Anna said simply, “The mental and emotional connection between him and the Batman was one I had not seen between foes in some time. And to a degree I understand why hesitate in killing him even in self-defense.”

“Would he not have killed the Joker?” Diana asked, “I’ve heard rumors that he has a tendency not to kill those he captures.”

Anna nodded at this and said, “That’s just it! It felt different when it came to the Joker for some reason. He acted as if I’d severed a tether he needed present to keep going no matter how much damage it made.”

“We’ve all had those Ann,” Diana said with a sigh.

Anna wanted to say how her’s was thrown in her face everyday and how it haunted her to this day but held her tongue. That was not a conversation to have though Skype. And not a topic she wanted to touch on while she was still reeling from her encounter with the Joker and the Dark Knight of Gotham. 

So instead she settled on, “I killed him Diana...and whilst I do not enjoy taking life, this one I had no qualms in taking.”

Diana cocked a brow at her her righteous morals about to reprimand her sister when Anna cut in.

“Don’t even think about it,” Anna said eyes darkening, “He would have killed that boy, and then no one in Gotham would have been spared the Batman’s wrath. There is a heart under that armor Diana, I felt it. He would have suffered greatly for the loss and worse being that the Joker would have bathed in the blood spilled and pain he’d caused. So do not lecture me on the righteousness of justice.”

Before Diana could say more Anna hung up and closed her laptop with a shake of her head. 

“You have seen so much and have grown so much Diana...but you still need to learn that sometimes death is inevitable,” she said out loud before turning in for the night.

Tomorrow is the banquet presenting the exhibition, the following day the opening, and then maybe she could rest...if the city let her that is. 

Tag List:

@flanagirl​ @xbreezymeadowsx​ @enigmatic-ravenna​ @alisinchainmail​ @disneymarina​ @thebeautyofdisorder​ @fandomgalcentral​ @wonderbat-official​ @lovelyyroseeee​

[ofdragonsdeep]

14: Commend

An acquaintance sits in a dismal gaol, and Ar'telan makes a courtesy call.

(Spoilers for SB, ShB sort of)

The sharp tang in the air of the Lochs accompanied Ar’telan on his walk across the great stone bridge to the capital. Beneath him, the vast expanse of the salt lakes stretched, now narrated by the hum and clang of machinery and hammers in the saltery at its edge. The rest of the land, though, still seemed like a skeleton resting where the beast had died, signal fires flickering to mark where it had fallen. The sparse forests of zelkova trees, stalked by manticores and ghosts, the bone-white fish which stalked the lakes, the uneasy fog that settled over the place, all of it added to the sense of decay.

The druvas had been cleared from the bridge in recent days, and so his only meeting was with the guards on the gate. In the many moons since Ala Mhigo’s liberation, the guard had been taught fast vigilance, both against the threat of primals and of Garlean incursion. He was so well-recognised that he was barely bothered on his way through, only a cursory check to ensure he was not an enemy of the state walking in under wicked glamour.

There were any number of attractions within the walls of the capital to captivate a traveler’s attention. A small Ironworks outpost still worked on the question of the Weapons the Garleans had made to throw against both their traitor and their unruly territories, ready to ferry a would-be warrior to the main camp. Citizens played Triple Triad by the aetheryte, eyeing him as he passed to see if he would be amenable to a challenge. The palace, now the seat of a more democratic form of government, offered the chance to reconnect with old friends. And the Royal Menagerie, with its fields of beautiful flowers, suggested a chance for reflection on things long gone and events to come.

Ar’telan ignored all of them, instead walking down the terracotta streets until he was within the mountains the city backed, the guards on the door offering an uneasy nod of acknowledgement as he passed them. Under the rock, the uncomfortable pulse of the sky was easier to ignore, and the thoughts he carried with him were easier to find.

The royal gaol, repurposed into a place to hold the many prisoners of war that had not been killed in the war for liberation. Some of them resented their captivity, some of them would have betrayed their birthplace to the Empire without a second thought. Some of them longed for redemption, cells lying empty as they laboured in civil service under strict watch. And some…

He was not the man he had been when he had first been down here. He took a moment, centred his aether. For all the hell that Hades had wrung from him, he had learned a little, though he was not sure if it would be enough. For all they called the Resonance an artificial Echo, it was a strange beast only alike in the broadest strokes. But perhaps it would do the job.

The cell was still sparse, despite the time that had passed between Fordola’s initial confinement and now. Her clothes were nicer, less rough hemp, but the collar around her neck - dormant without a mage to activate it, but still abhorrent in its purpose - served as an unkind reminder of her station.

“You,” she said, her voice level. He nodded to her, and there was a moment of absolute silence. Her thoughts were a concealed mystery, but her feelings felt loud behind her wall, amplified by two Echo-likes in proximity. She did not flinch.

“I had hoped they would be treating you better, by now,” Ar’telan remarked, and Fordola scoffed, though it was clear she was still confused by the situation that had found her opposite the man who had put her here to begin with.

“Kill a few primals, slay a few beastmen. It doesn’t matter to them,” she said, venom in her voice, but it was tired poison now. “Why are you here?” It was a question, not one he could come up with an answer for, not an easy one. Now that the danger had passed in the First, he did not think it would be long until something surfaced to demand their attention, but for the moment they stood in the lull.

“I wanted to be sure you were ok,” he said, offering a tiny smile. “It’s my fault you’re in here, after all.” Fordola scoffed.

“I put myself in here,” she disagreed. “You and I both know that. Maybe it would have been easier if I hadn’t taken their devil’s bargain, but under it all I’m still the Empire’s Butcher.” Ar’telan sighed, sitting down against the wall opposite her cell door. They had been here before, more than once, and she never warmed to him - not that he expected her to, nor would ever want her to, unless she wished it - but every time things changed.

“Has it eased?” he asked her, and she winced at the question.

“What does it matter to you?” she demanded, even though both of them knew that he had taken every effort to shield his soul from her resonant eyes, to stop her from reliving the horrors in his past just this once.

“They don’t care to ask about it, do they?” he surmised, and she made an irritable noise. “I have-”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat. “And I don’t want it. You think they don’t relish in me seeing the hurt I’ve caused them?” Ar’telan held out a hand, a tiny spark of aether gathering in it. The Light suffused it, shimmering in the darkness of the prison complex, still there despite his victory over it. As she moved forwards, he snuffed it out.

“Perhaps I do not want your sympathy either,” he said, and she recoiled, surprise in the coil of her limbs and a scowl on her face. “It does not have to be a competition, or an exchange of pity. It does need to gain either of us anything, for good or for ill. It has been many moons since the war ended, after all.” Fordola made an irritated noise.

“Then I will consider it,” she said, a compromise he had not expected to achieve with her. “Bah, you’re both as bad as each other. At least it’s easier to tune you out than the boy.” Ar’telan stifled a laugh at that. He knew a little of Fordola’s work with Arenvald and the summoners working with the Flames, dealing with summonings out in Thanalan. Echo was Echo, even by a different name.

I wonder what Hades would think to that?

“I will give you time to think on it,” he said, pushing himself to his feet as she retreated back to her pallet. “Duty calls me back here more often than most would like, I think, so I shall call in when I can.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” she muttered, bitterness still in her voice.

---

It had been Arenvald that told him the story.

The young Scion was ever excitable, and he had been brimming with pride as he had relayed the story of their fight with Ifrit, holding back the Tempered servants who had summoned it, helping to rid the land of the scourge of the summon for just a little longer. It was a different story to the one that Jajasamu had relayed - a bitter man angry with himself for misjudging the convict, and the threat they faced, feeling lesser in his need to stay back from the full brunt of the primal’s fury. Ar’telan wondered if it would have helped them to know of his first fight with a primal, in the same summoning circle at Zanr’ak, blood drawn from the stone of desperation.

He had asked how Ar’telan felt. Ar’telan had offered a reassuring platitude, acceptance of duty and necessity, and he wasn’t sure that he had been believed.

---

The first time he had gone to see her had been after the war was over. When the Qalyana summoned their goddess into a council hall and he had held the line with Arenvald and Fordola, and she had thrown her blade to the floor and walked away. Rejected the idea of death, and shunned the idea of redemption.

The guards had tried to dissuade him as he walked past them into the gaol. He had stood in front of her and neither had spoken a word, her mind overwhelmed with every bitter memory in his mind, every wound the fight had inflicted, everything he mourned. She had looked up at him, hand over her resonant eye as if it would stop the flood, and asked him how he coped.

“I don’t.”

---

The second time he had been met with less protest, at least from the guard. Again he had sat himself outside her cell, her mouth shut in stubborn silence, his hands in his lap lest she think he want to dominate the conversation. The Echo had shown him, when they had been enemies yet, what had happened to her father for the crime of making do in an impossible situation. She waited for him to use it against her, but he did not. In truth, he already had - keeping the secrets close to his heart as he told Lyse that he did not want her to be executed, to the idealistic woman’s surprise. When had it ever been black and white, under the boot of the Empire? He had seen what happened to the people who resisted. Visited the graves of the soldiers, heard the stories of the collateral damage weeping in a half-empty village.

Maybe it was selfish. In the days since, when he had pleaded for mercy for those driven to awful, cruel things, when he saw them crumble in the cell, when the people demanded blood and received it, one way or another, he had thought it might be. The blasted fields of Bozja haunted him still, the memories of a broken Queen and Misija’s choices - one way or another, they were always chosen, even if the perpetrators convinced themselves there was no such choice at all. But still he had begged mercy, that if she had to face the headsman’s axe then it would be after fair judgement. He had stood and watched people break upon the battlefield, and known, innately, that there was no judgement that could be fair.

“You got nothing better to do, warrior of light?” Fordola had spat eventually. “I don’t need the theatre of your head to make my day worse. Got plenty of that already.” Ar’telan had shrugged.

“I thought you might like the company,” he replied, and she scoffed at him. Was the wound too fresh, he had wondered? Of when they had faced off on the field of battle, her resonance overwhelmed by Urianger’s siphon, her choices rendered meaningless in the dust?

“You know how many I’ve killed. Surely there’s better company to keep than me.”

“You know how many I have killed, too.”

She was quiet then, for a long moment, before shaking her head.

“Thought it didn’t count, for you. Killing the Empire. They’re the enemy, aren’t they?”

“As we were yours. The choice is the same. That I am on the side of the victor doesn’t make mine right, and yours wrong.”

“Was that why he wanted to fight you, then? Zenos, I mean.”

The question had caught him off-guard, but eventually he had managed to offer a shrug.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I presented an opportunity to him - a potential for challenge. If I could reach him and face him, then he would need to work to overcome the obstacle. It made him try - think, persevere, strive. It made him feel. I understand it in theory.” Fordola had sighed, shaking her head slightly, though not in disagreement.

“It’s all mad. All of it mad,” she had decided, and Ar’telan had not been able to disagree.

---

The fog had lifted when Ar’telan walked out into the streets of Ala Mhigo, the sun twinkling with the last few moments of the light before it set. It wasn’t perfect - what ever was? - but it was something, and he would let that be enough. If one day she would be able to accept what had happened to give her the gift, if she would go from stony to acerbic, if she would leave the cell and be allowed her freedom, then his plea to Lyse all those moons ago would have meant something.

He did not carry Arenvald’s hope, that she would heal, forgive herself, move on. He had been in the chamber where Krile had been held, where they had stamped the gift into the giftless through brute force. He had felt the aether, the dozens of souls whose lives blazed in her Resonant light. She would never forgive herself for making that choice, and to ask it of her was too much. All you could do was see the death that lined your path forward, and make do.

She would not think it the same, he thought. That the people he had killed - conscripts and volunteers and natives, all equal at the end of the day, on the other side of the Warrior of Light - were the same as the ones that she had damned when she had accepted the experiment. They did not see the world the same way at all, not any more. She was bitter and hard like stone, retreating inward at the cruelty. His mask was passive, the smiles genuine, the burden accepted if only to make sure that no-one else ever had to walk the path that he had. But she yet had room to heal. There was space for her and the souls that walked with her, for better or worse, guided by the hand of the Resistance until they trusted her to guide herself.

And when the day came, Ar’telan would welcome her with a smile.

[lifesliced-a]

​FUJITA AKIRA DIED IN 1982. it wasn’t remarkable, though it was unexpected. he was mourned, of course, by a small few. loved, and now lost. adachi nana had grieved the hardest, and had told fujita’s still corpse that she had loved him always. he wishes he could have said the same. nishikawa kaito remained silent, holding her hand with a great force. he tells fujita he was sorry he had made such a mess of things, and that in the end, fujita really was his best friend. he was sorry, and fujita had forgiven him long before. no need for that, he would tell nishikawa. i know you by now.

fujita akira did not live to become one-hundred, nor did he do anything particularly worthy that would be deemed honorable, nor impressive. he did not slay anything, he did not conquer, and he did not marry. no children to carry on his name / his legacy, though he would argue there wasn’t much to leave behind. no, unfortunately for fujita, he was quite average.

the greatest good fujita had ever done was his care for animals, specifically cats. one of his own, who lived the rest of his life with adachi, and she had loved him despite her allergy. when he passed, she placed his urn in the ground near fujita’s own, and cried all over again for the man she loved. he told her to not worry, and though she could not hear him, she could feel him. that was enough, and she left that day, and she never came back. good, he thought. it was better that way. she married nishikawa, and fujita was happy. she would be a good mother, and he had hoped to wait for her after her own passing. to be the one she would see when she was most vulnerable and most afraid, and to then take her into the light so that they could be together. 

ah, but plans often change, and the winds of fate blow in ways men and women don’t understand. fujita has learned this, and had remained stagnant for a decade. in that stagnancy, he found himself following people around aimlessly. it was when he found a cat, injured and on the brink of death, that he stopped the way he used to. there is no vet that fujita can bring this animal to, so he instead kneels, places a hand against the back of the neck, and cradles the creature until the soul eases itself from the mortal coil of flesh, and joins him. for a moment, he wonders if he can find dango, and after a decade, he returns to his old apartment. 

dango had been waiting for him. after all that time, he knew fujita would come back, and that the only way to really leave is forever. 

but fujita doesn’t want to leave, and he instead takes dango. he takes dango, and the other too, and drags his ghostly feet across the earth he can no longer feel. is this much different, he asked himself, than what he was doing before? it’s certainly more lonely. 

he picks up a habit of collecting strays that are ready to pass on, and eases them through their burden. they join him, unable to leave his side as he does not know how to release them, and that is when he is approached. he won’t leave? then he doesn’t have to. he has done a great service, in life and in death, and he is given the chance. the chance to become a yokai, and to ferry these spirits the way that gods of death ferry humans. he is no god, but he is something new / something different than what he was.

which is where he stands now, all these years past, adorned in a brilliant kimono. he carries a shamisen, ready to comfort the souls of felines distressed and scared, and takes them to their masters / to their mates, and to those that loved ( or could have loved ) them most. dango remains, but the others all leave when they are done following. as humans have last wishes, so do these animals, and fujita obliges them all. 

❝ so you see, ryuk, ❞ he says, voice etheral and eyes blank. his expression is calm, unmoving, and almost soft. unbothered, fujita plucks the strings of his instrument.  ❝ it’s no different than with people. i don’t have a special book ... just my shamisen. the music calms them until i can guide them over. i did this in life, i was told. i had almost forgotten. even animals have amends to make and promises to keep, and many are stuck until those promises are fulfilled. i help them, and then i let them go. isn’t that what you do? i wouldn’t know. i’ve never met a shinigami before, but i’ve heard of them. i’ve only met others that ferry animals. ❞ / @ringonokami

[drop-of-infinity]

Back at it again with the weirdly formatted Destiel fic! This part is canon compliant with season 7, and it’s kinda short bc Cas is dead for most of that season.

Chapter one is here

Chapter two is here

Chapter three is here

<><><><><><><><>

Chapter 4: season 7

Meet The New Boss

{“I need help.” Even though Cas is clearly not okay, even though they had just been trying to kill each other, even though Dean is so worried about him his throat is closing up, his relief is immense. Cas still cares, which means he’s still Cas which means there’s still hope.

{“I’m sorry Dean.” Cas was ready to accept that this was it. His last words would be trying to fix the harm he had done to the person who meant the most to him. This was it. Cas hoped Dean could understand everything that he still couldn’t say.

{“He’s gone Dean.”

“Cas, you child. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Dean tried to actually get angry, but he didn’t have nearly enough rage to cover the bottomless pit of grief opening in his stomach. But then- Cas opens his eyes with a gasp. The relief almost made Dean’s knees give out, but of course it didn’t last.

{“Dumb son of a bitch.” Again, the rage wasn’t strong enough to cover the grief. As Dean folded Cas’s trench coat over his arm, he realized he was resisting the urge to bury his face in it. Turning around quickly, he headed away from the leviathan infested waters. These feelings... they were stupid. Pointless.

{But Dean kept the coat. He ferried it from stolen car to stolen car, folded carefully in the trunk. Sam saw it once, and gave Dean a look that held more understanding then he had of his own actions. It made him both uncomfortable and strangely relieved. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but it didn’t matter. Dean kept the coat. Part of him stil believed that Cas would come back.

The Born Again Identity

{“Who was that?” Dean stared at the man in front of him. At Cas, somehow, miraculously, alive. He wondered what expression he was making, because he was experiencing so many emotions he thought he might explode. Under the cacophony of deeply repressed feelings, one clear thought managed to form. He’s not wearing the coat. Because I have it. Part of me always believed he would come back... and here he is.

{“Thank you for protecting my wife”

“Your wife?” Dean felt like there was a monster in his chest, squeezing his heart and trying to claw its way out. Trying to kill Daphne, Cas- no Emmanuel’s... wife. That was a perfectly normal thing to feel about your best friend who had just returned from the dead with amnesia right? Well, there was no normal for that. So Dean could feel whatever he wanted, it didn’t mean anything.

{“I don’t remember you, I’m sorry.” It felt like a stab to the chest, even though Dean already knew. To see Cas look him in the eyes and say that... it was a lot.

{“I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.” It was such a Cas thing to say, Dean almost collapsed. He had missed him.

{As the demon screamed, memories rushed in. Castiel remembered who he was, except- who he was wasn’t Castiel anymore. It was Cas. Remembering who he was was just remembering his time with Dean. He could feel that he was thousands of years old, but the memories that built him, the things that made him who he was... he saw himself walking into a barn, lights flashing. The righteous man stabbed him, and he smiled down at the knife. He saw himself rebelling against heaven, against everything he knew... for Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean. After going without his name for so long, his heart seemed to be singing it. He had done... bad things. Cas couldn’t make himself turn back to Dean for a moment. How could this beautiful man with his beautiful soul ever forgive him? He had to leave.

{“Wait.” Dean took something out of the trunk of the car. A folded trench coat. He handed it to Cas slowly, and Cas felt the weight of the gesture. He tried not to obsess over the implications. Why did he want to obsess over the implications? It didn’t matter. There was work to be done.

Reading is Fundamental

{“Pull my finger.”

“Why?”

“My finger. Pull it.” Dean did, and the lights exploded. So Cas was insane. He giggled at his own prank, and Dean ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head that whispered cute.

{“I followed a honeybee!” Cas seemed so excited. So calm. Dean had never seen a smile even half this big on his face. It made his chest ache. If he couldn’t even make his best friend as happy as he was when he had lost his mind, he didn’t deserve Cas in the first place.

{“The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in heaven he was lost!” Suddenly, Dean is back at his 17th birthday, his first solo hunt. His dad is explaining what they’re dealing with. Two nuns, who... who fell in love. “They were... corrupted, in life and now in death. Take care of it.” John had said. Dean had burned the bones, trying not to think about the pretty boy in his class with the bright blue eyes. He returns to the present, and tries to remember to breathe.

Survival of the Fittest

{“Sorry, but I’d rather have you. Cursed or not.” And it was true. No matter what crap Cas would get them in to, he was all they had. More then that, he was Cas. I’d rather have you, Dean thinks again, but the meaning is slightly different.

{“Do I seem like good luck to you?” Castiel knew on some level that he was staring but he didn’t care. Dean was good luck in a way. No, he was better, because Dean had had to claw his way to every good thing in his life. Cas felt his heart speed up slightly-human bodies are so strange aren’t they?-as he looked at Dean. He had things to say to this man, things he no longer saw the point of holding back. You are my religion, he thinks simply, and it is not earth-shattering, it is not a revelation. It is a long time coming and his Lucifer-ridden head has somehow broken through to it. He doesn’t say it though, at least not in so many words. “Well I’ll go with you,” he says instead.

{Cas is standing nose to nose with Dean inside Dick Roman enterprises. He counts the freckles on the hunter’s face, making swirly constellations. He’s beautiful, he thinks vaguely. This thought is not new, in fact it is so old it has worn tracks and grooves into his brain. Tracks like the little lines next to Dean’s eyes. Dean, who is looking at him with a silent question, and Cas remembers he is here to be useful, and he needs to get on that.

{“I’m afraid we’re much more likely to get ripped to shreds.” Cas realizes it in a second. They are in purgatory, and he has to leave if he wants to keep Dean safe. He so badly wants to stay with him, help him, protect him, but he knows the best way to keep Dean alive is to get as far away from him as possible.

{Cas feels himself falling into his own head as he goes away. His restored mind is trying to find a way this ends where Dean forgives him. It can’t. He makes himself stop.

{Dean is running so fast it feels like flying, and he doesn’t know where Cas is but he has to find him. He wishes he could keep running, but the only way out of this is through. He makes himself stop.

In that moment, they are united across purgatory, joined by the common goal of keeping each other safe. Neither of them have time to consider what each other-or themselves-want.

[deadanddeactivated]

Taking Secrets to the Grave, kinda

Alright, here’s my fill for the ATTIYS hosted by @magpiemorality cause they got  500 followers (and also for their bday) and i congradulate them on both ‘cause they great.

I’m not sure how good this is, but it got the idea across I think?  I hope y’all like it.  Please enjoy

--

Logan strode down the hallway, clutching his book in his hands. There was no time to waste! Information had been found and assessed and mused over, and now it needed to be shared. It could be vital! It could change everything. He just hoped he was still in time to help. Hadn’t he said that the right piece of knowledge could make all the difference in the world?! 

“I’m coming!” He called, speeding up his stride. “I know the answer!”

“What are you talking about?”  Patton asked, stepping out of his room and almost walking right into Logan as he rushed down the hall.

“I’ve figured it out.”  Logan announced, not looking back.  Patton had to rush to catch up, looking over Logan’s shoulder to see what he was clutching so tightly.  It looked to be an old book, one that had been burnt several times and seemed to ooze… something.  An aura of dread, maybe.

Or maybe it was Logan’s face that had Patton dreading.

“Figured out what?”  Patton pressed, even though he was pretty sure he knew.  He just hoped he was wrong.

“How to save him.”  Logan clarified, clutching his book just a little tighter.  He didn’t seem to notice the way Patton’s face fell, the way his steps faltered.  

“Logan, wait, please.”  Patton tried once he’d recovered.  “Let’s talk about this first.”

“What’s there to talk about?”  Logan huffed, stopping before a familiar door.  “I can save him, I can save so many.”  He added, muttering mostly to himself as he pushed the door open.  He didn’t step in right away, always thrown off by how… quiet the room was.  It wasn’t meant to be quiet.  

“You can’t save someone who’s dead.”  Patton said softly.  Logan tensed then he found his resolve and he walked into Remus’ room, walked right up to the frozen figure on the bed.  It almost looked like he was sleeping, but even that seemed just… wrong for Remus.

“I can bring him back.”  Logan said firmly, opening the book on the bedside table.  Patton flinched back as a wave of something rushed through the room.  Logan had handled a lot of things he really shouldn’t have been handling lately.  Ancient magics and tomes that would give anyone else pause.  But not Logan.  He wanted knowledge, and he’d achieved it.  More than that, he’d achieved knowledge no one else had.  

But this was different.  This was a line Patton knew Logan shouldn’t cross.

“Logan, you know that’s wrong.”  Patton tried. 

“It is simply not understood.”  Logan argued.  “I can’t just… I can’t just leave him like this Patton.”  The shorter side bit his lip, unsure what to say.  There were so many things he could tell Logan, that he probably should tell Logan, but… well he wasn’t sure how.  They’d already dug this hole, now he’d had to deal with the consequences.

“Okay.”  He said.  “Okay.”  Whatever happened, Patton would handle it.

Still, he found himself chewing on his nails as Logan set up the room.  Candles, sigils, and finally the words.  As Logan chanted in latin the candles lit themselves and the sigils seemed to move.  Logan lost awareness of everything else in the room, eyes glowing and voice layering.  Patton could only watch his eyes tight and send out his own little prayer, hoping beyond hope that this didn’t backfire.

“So,”  A voice called as Logan finished chanting.  “This is the mortal everyone’s talking about.”  Patton breathed a sigh of relief.  A figure had appeared in the room, standing on the opposite side of the bed to Logan.  He was dressed in a black cloak that had clearly been patched dozens of times, the newest of those patches having been made with a purple fabric in place of the usual midnight black.  He held a scythe causally in one arm, almost leaning against it, and only his eyes, one green and one purple, could be seen glowing beneath the shadows of his cloak.

“They say you can read the magic texts even the immortals have forgotten.”  The figure continued.  “I got the impression you were meant to be a lot smarter than this, scholar.”  

“Grim Reaper.”  Logan greeted, not raising to the bait.  “I have summoned you to ferry a soul.”  

“Yeah, I heard that part.”  The grim reaper said, rolling his glowing eyes.  “I don’t think you read the fine print.”

“Excuse me?”  Logan frowned.

“You called me to ferry a soul.  I could easily ferry yours.”  Patton jolted at the reapers words, stepping forward.

“Virgil!”  He said, panicked.  

“Relax Patton.”  The reaper said, raising a hand to brush him off.  “I’ll be nice, I’m just saying.  If he wasn’t your friend, I’d be ferrying his soul to the afterlife.”  Patton relaxed again, right until he looked over and saw the confused frown on Logan’s face.

“Patton?”  Logan asked.  “You… know this creature?”  

“I’d hope so.”  Virgil muttered.  

“Ah, well…”  Patton trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Surprise?” 

“That’s not an explanation Patton.”  Virgil pointed out before Logan could. 

“I know, I know.”  Patton sighed.  “We were planning to tell you Logan, really.  We just weren’t sure how.”

“Tell me what?”  Logan pressed, frowning deeper. 

“Um, well, we’re sort of… that is, um…”  Patton fumbled, trying to come up with an explanation but failing to find the words.  Virgil sighed, taking pity on him.

“You’re the only mortal in the house.”  He said. 

“Excuse me?”  Logan said, forehead scrunching up the way it does whenever something just… doesn’t commute.  It did the same thing the first time he found one of the magic filled book tucked away in the library.

“I mean, it did say that on the ad listing.”  Patton offered.  Remus had taken it upon himself to write the advertisement for the room they were renting.  If Patton remembered right his exact words were ‘Roommates are a couple of cursed princes and a deathless spirit’ or something like that.  Remus also hadn’t been subtle during the tour or when Logan had first moved in.  He’d decided to lay off when Logan had started discovery long forgotten magic, no one really wanting the mortal to realize how much danger he’d put himself in.  Better to fight off the mages and other creatures themselves and not involve Logan.

Of course that hadn’t meant to involve Remus taking a death curse to the chest protecting Logan but well, these things happen and it’s not like Remus could really die forever anyway.

They just hadn’t been sure how to explain that to Logan.

“But that…”  Logan started as his world view realigned with his new information.

“This is why we shouldn’t be making friends with mortals.”  Virgil scolded.  “De’s going to be rather annoyed I’m bringing these two up early.  You know how much he enjoys the company.”

“Two?  De?”  Logan repeated.  “What’s going on Patton, just tell me plainly already!”  He huffed.

“Well, um, De is Death.”  Patton answered first because that was the easy answer.  “And well…”

“Honestly Patton.”  Virgil sighed when Patton hesitated to continue.  “Remus and Roman’s lives are entwined, since they’re the cursed halves of a whole and all.  When Remus dies, Roman does and vice versa.  Usually they stay with De for a week or two before they’re souls come back, you have to give the golems time to heal.”

“Golems?”  Logan frowned.  He’d probably read about the humanoid, soulless creatures that were golems in one of those books.  Those things were probably hard to link to what Roman and Remus were.

“It’s a long story.”  Patton said.

“One you should have already told him.”  Virgil reminded.  “One of these days you’re going to learn to listen to him Pat.”

“No way.”  Patton teased with a grin.  “Little brothers aren’t allowed to listen, it’s in the contract.”

“Well then little brothers can deal with their own problems.”  Virgil said.  “I’ll go get the twins, you lot clearly had a lot to talk about.”

“Wait!  Virgil!”  Patton tried but it was too late, Virgil had already vanished into the shadows.  He sighed then looked over to Logan, who was staring blankly at where Virgil had just been.  “Lo?  Are you okay?”  He asked nervously, gulping when Logan didn’t answer.  Before Patton could try and bridge whatever gap had just opened, a gasping intake of air drew their attention to the bed.

Remus took a few more deep breaths before looking around the room and breaking into a grin.

“Lolo!  You conquered life and death!  Woo!”  He cheered.

“Based on the information I had just discovered, I believe there is much more to it than that.”  Logan said.

“Ah, you found out then.”  Remus said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling himself into a sitting position.  It was impossible to tell he’d been dead a minute ago, but then again he had a lot of practice.

“Yes.  The grim reaper, Virgil apparently, informed me.”  Logan said it with an even tone but Patton could tell he was hurt.  

“I’m sorry.”  Patton offered.  “I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

“I told you all the time.”  Remus argued.  “I even told you the part about being kidnapped by a witch.”  He added, somewhat smugly.  Pounding steps cut off any reply Logan had, Roman appearing in the doorway a moment later.

“Damn it Remus!”  He snapped.  “Stop getting hit with killing curses!”  

“It’s only happened twice.”  Remus huffed.

“Try five times.”  Roman glared.  

“You should be thanking me for the chance to go see your boyfriend.”  Remus claimed.

“Well that didn’t work out either, because your boyfriend decided to get in the way!”  Roman snapped.

“Uh, you two…”  Patton cut in, looking between the angering twins and Logan - whose whole body seemed to be shaking.

“Lo?”  Remus prompted.

“Why did you just tell me?”  Logan asked, tone almost monotone doesn’t his shaking.  The other three shared a look.  In the end Roman spoke up.

“There’s a whole world of people that want the knowledge you have.  Or want you dead so no one else can have it.”  Roman explained.  “We didn’t want you to worry about that.”

“Yeah, we wanted you to just be your knowledge-seeking self!  Undistracted by things like killing curses and vampires!”  Remus added.

“So instead I had to worry about you being dead?”  Logan asked.  “And when was I going to find out about Roman?  What if I had walked into your room?”

“I would have stopped you.”  Patton said and then winced because that clearly wasn’t the answer Logan was after.  “We really are sorry, we were trying to figure out how to tell you I swear.”

“We were definitely going to tell you when Remus and I came back.”  Roman claimed.  Logan just sighed.

“I’m glad you’re both alright.”  He mumbled, and then moved to leave the room.  Remus didn’t let him, jumping up to grab Logan’s arm.

“Wait, Logan, we’ll make it up to you!”  He promised.  “Oh, oh how about you study us?  Yeah?  Would that make it better?”

“Yeah!  And we can answer any questions you have!”  Patton added.

“I refuse to be poked at with anything sharp.”  Roman said but raised his hands when Patton and Remus shot him a look.  “Okay, okay.”  He said.  “I’ll get poked.”

Despite there words, Logan was silent and Patton was starting to worry.  What if this didn’t fix anything?  What if Logan left forever and they’d ruined everything?

“Alright.”  Logan accepted.  “Let me get my notebook.”  Patton breathed a sigh of relief, happily following Logan does the hallway this time.  Things clearly hadn’t been fixed completely but at least Logan was letting them try.  

Now he’d just have to figure out when to visit De to apologize for Remus and Roman’s visit being cut short.

[sunflowerspecter]

in the dark of space, d.d.💫

summary: sometimes, not even galaxies can keep soulmates apart

warnings: cursing, mentions of cancer and death, violence, some creeps kinda imply some rude stuff about din and the readers sexual life

pairing: din djarin x reader

words: 4794 (sorry? i don’t know if that’s long or short but it’s something) 

part: 2/6

note: the response i got to the first chapter was so good! thank you 🥺!! i’m so SO sorry that this is so late! i just got caught up with school and this chapter was harder to write... the next chapter i got ideas for so i hope to have it up soon!! tea gets real next chapter 🤭

“When we get in, stay with me. Don’t talk to anyone, don’t look at anyone, don’t do or say anything,” the Mandalorian says to you, and you nod, thinking he’s just being overprotective. You hold the child a little tighter as you walk inside, and you look around. The place is crowded, filled with the oddest people… part of you thinks that you only find them odd because they’re from, you know, another planet, but you think that these must be odd, even by galactic standards. 

“Ah, it’s you,” a voice says, and you turn to see a small woman holding out both of her hands in front of you. 

“Mando,” you mutter, reaching to grasp his cape. He nods at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to remind you that he’s here, and he’s not going to let anything happen to you. He traveled across the galaxy to help you get home, goddamnit. Home, you begin to think. Could you even consider Earth home? After everything with your mother, and then everything at work, and losing your job, and being evicted. You didn’t even have a home, you just existed. You almost want to grab the Mandalorians arm and run back to the ship, and beg him to take you back to the village planet, beg them to let you stay with them, and just pretend that this is your home. 

But you don’t. Because you can’t ask that of these people. Of the Mandalorian, or of the village people.

“Maz, good to see you,” the Mandalorian says, breaking you from your thoughts. 

She looks up at him and squints, then smiles. “It’s been forever.” 

“Yes.” 

The woman rolls her eyes, then says, “Follow me.” 

You sit at a small table towards the back of the room, and she waits for one of you to speak. The Mandalorian does. 

“This is Y/n. Y/n, this is Maz.” 

Maz smiles, nodding. “I know you.” 

Your eyes widen and you say, “We’ve only just met, now.” You look over at the Mandalorian, who watches you silently, almost waiting for your reaction, as if he expected Maz to say this. 

“Oh, I know. But I know why you’re here.” She pauses, then looks at the creature in your arms. She shrugs, then says, “You wish to return to your planet.” 

You nod, and the Mandalorian leans forward, talking quietly. “Maz, have you ever been to her planet? Earth, you said, yeah?” 

“Unfortunately, no. There is no way to return to that planet now that she’s been brought. Once a millenium do the doors between galaxies open and send through souls born separated.” 

Your jaw drops, and the Mandalorian stiffens. “So I can’t go home?” 

Maz squints her eyes at you. “That is not what I said.” 

“You said she can’t return to her planet, Maz,” the Mandalorian says. Then, Maz stands, gesturing for you to follow her. Hesitantly, you both do. She leads you down a staircase and to a large and empty room. 

“There are forces in the Universe that many do not understand,” she says, and the light drains from the room. You gasp, reaching for the Mandalorian, but you can’t find him. A bright white light appears in front of you and you gasp as it dances around your head. “There are forces in each section of the universe.” A large hologram of planets appears, and the light fills the space between them. Across the room, a red light surrounds a different group of planets. “Sometimes, a soul born to a force is in the wrong galaxy.” The planets disappear, leaving just the lights. A bit of white light appears in the red, and you move towards it, but as you do, the red violently attacks the white light. You gasp, stepping back at the sudden action. “These souls belong in the other galaxy, and the Universe will send them to find their force.” 

You back away. “You mean I was born in the wrong galaxy? What exactly are these forces?” 

The darkness seeps away and you turn and see the Mandalorian. You run to him, grabbing his cloak. 

“Forces connect all of us, all living things. Sometimes, these forces bind souls together. You, my dear, are a bound soul. You’ve been brought here to to find them, to find your true home.” 

You scoff. “So you’re saying I’m here to meet my soulmate?” You almost laugh at the idea. “That’s ridiculous, soulmates aren’t real.” 

Maz shrugs. “Maybe not in your world.” 

You groan, running your hands through your hair. “Fuck. Fuck!” 

“There has to be a way she can get home. I’ll take her there myself, I just need to know where it is,” the Mandalorian says dryly, and Maz sighs. 

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The galaxies… the forces won’t allow you to leave them, once you’ve found where your force is. You can’t leave.” 

You think you’re going to pass out.  

The Mandalorian senses this, apparently, because he grabs your arm to steady you. 

“This is bad, this is so bad!” you yell. “I… I mean, it’s not like there’s anything waiting for me back on Earth, but I don’t have anywhere to go! What am I going to do?”

Maz is quiet, and the entire room is silent for a moment as you begin to pace, because you’re doomed. 

“You… you could stay with me. I could always use an extra hand around this ship. Until you find somewhere more permanent, of course,” the Mandalorian says, and you look to him your mouth open, but no words coming out. 

“I don’t want to intrude-” 

“It’s no trouble, really.” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

The Mandalorian nods at you. 

You turn to Maz. You take a breath.“Thank you.” A pause. “For the information. It’s better to have bad news than to be without any knowledge whatsoever.” Maz smiles warmly at you, then walks you and the Mandalorian to the exit. 

“Visit soon!” she calls, and you nod to her. 

Once you’re outside, you begin walking towards where the Mandalorian landed the ship. The journey is silent, and you begin to think. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to him. “If I’m ever too much just, tell me. You don’t have to keep me around, and I’d hate to make your life difficult.” 

“Hey,” he says, stopping. “Don’t worry about it, okay? You aren’t going to make my life difficult. The past two weeks have been nice, I like your company.” He pauses, then says, “In fact, I would have been sad to see you go.” You smile, nodding, and he pats your shoulder as he walks ahead of you. 

So, this is your life now. Living with a strange man and a baby, in a spaceship. You try not to think about how bad that is for your body, but then again, in this galaxy, space travel is normal, so the ships probably account for that. The air on every planet he’s brought you to has been breathable, at least. 

You hear a crack in the woods behind you and jump, and the Mandalorian pushes you behind him. 

A shot nearly misses your head and the Mandalorian pushes the child into your arms, saying, “Run!” 

You push off, running as fast as you can towards the ship. The Mandalorian is quick on your heel, firing a few shots off into the distance. As soon as you’re in the ship, he’s taking off. You sit in the seat next to him, holding the child tightly in your arms. 

You close your eyes when the ship rattles and you realize you’re being shot at. In space. 

On one hand, you’re about to die. On the other hand, if little you saw you right now, god, she’d be so excited. You’re in space! On an adventure! 

You try to remind yourself that that’s all this is. Just a little adventure. 

The ship gets quiet, and the Mandalorian puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, and you nod. 

“Just shaken up, I guess.” 

He stays quiet for a moment, watching you, before he says, “Maybe you should go back to Sorgan. With Cara, and stay in that village.” 

You freeze, unsure as to why he would suggest that, but then you realize he’s probably trying to get rid of you, politely. “Oh. I mean, if you think that’s best,” you say. 

He sighs. “Life on the run, life out doing… what I do. It isn’t great. But if you’re okay with that, then please, stay here. I could use your help. But if you want out, tell me.” 

You pause. Do you want out? You trust the Mandalorian, and you aren’t sure why. Besides, even if you do settle down… you want to see that galaxy. If you’re in space, you might as well make the best of it. 

“I’m staying.” 

~~~oOo~~~

“Oh, my god,” you mutter as the city comes into view. Coruscant, is what the Mandalorian called the planet. The city… skyscrapers, flying cars… it was every futuristic movie ever, but… more unreal. 

“We might be able to blend in more here, and the comm system on the ship is down. We need credits, so I’m going to see if I can get a job,” he says. When you land, you’re ever so anxious to get off the ship. You bounce on your toes by the ramp, waiting for the Mandalorian to set you free. 

“Put this on,” he says, passing you a cloak. You nod, remembering that, although the bag that was with you had some clothes in it, but you’ll look like an alien if you wear Earth clothes. Well, technically, you’re surrounded by aliens… but still. He passes you the child and you put him on your hip, holding him firmly but gently. 

Once you’re in the city, you think you’re going to melt. Every nerve in your body is buzzing, energy moving through you with every step you take. It’s almost like being high, but it’s just the people, the city, the movement… you almost want to squeal. 

“I’m guessing there aren’t cities like this where you’re from?” the Mandalorian asks you, and you shake your head. 

“No. I mean, on Earth there are big cities. Skyscrapers, bridges, ferris wheels, the like, but there’s nothing quite so… colorful.” You sigh, continuing to glance around. “We don’t have flying cars.” 

He pulls you into a building, and you almost gasp at the architecture. You ignore what he says to a man at a desk, and stare at the art on the walls as he pulls you up a set of stairs. 

“You good?” he asks. You nod. 

“Where are we going?” you ask him. 

The Mandalorian laughs quietly. “You don’t have hotels on Earth?”

You frown, letting out a soft, “Oh.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired.” 

Out of nowhere, you yawn, and you suddenly feel the ache in your joints. “Now that you mention it, yeah.” 

He laughs again, stopping and opening a door. He lets you in first, looking around the hallway before shutting and locking it behind him. You set the child on the ground and drop your bag onto a chair. 

“So, you never did tell me your story,” you say, sitting on the floor by the large window that gave you an excellent view of the city. 

“Yes I did,” the Mandalorian says. You shake your head, giggling. 

“No, silly. I know that you’re a Mandalorian, and that you don’t take your armor off in front of other lifeforms, and that you’re on the run, but I don’t know about you, or your family.” 

He sighs. “Well, the Mandalorians are my family. They found me as a child and raised me as their own.” 

“You’re an orphan?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but sits beside you on the ground. The child crawls into your lap, and he falls asleep almost instantly. 

“Do you remember your parents?” you ask slowly. 

He nods, slightly. After a time, he says, “Yes.” It comes out broken, and you place a hand on his shoulder, above the armor. It’s cool to the touch. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

He shakes his head, hyper-aware of the fact that you’re touching him. “No, you aren’t. It’s not your fault. I… I remember my mother, and my father. After they… after they died, the Mandalorians saved me.” 

You’re silent for a second. “How did they die?” you ask, almost whispering. 

“Droids attacked our village,” he replies. Your hand finds the gap between the pieces of armor on his arms, and you leave it there, remembering hearing something about physical contact being beneficial to sad people. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to him. 

“It was a long time ago,” he says.

“That doesn’t make it easier.” 

He looks to you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. You flush, looking away from him and pulling away your hand. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. Then, “What about your family? You said you didn’t have any, that they won’t be waiting for you on Earth.” 

You shrug. “I don’t. I mean, of course I had family. My mom, well she had me when she was a teenager, I guess. Never knew my dad, and mom hated me. She was a good student, before she met my father, I guess. Then she started sneaking out, and I guess things got carried away because then there was me. She took out a lot of her anger at my father on me. Anger for getting her pregnant, then abandoning us, you know. She raised me, and I’m alive, so that’s good, I guess.”

He’s silent, then he puts his hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

You huff, saying, “It was a long time ago.” 

He laughs, and you smile a little, setting your head against his shoulder, and the armor isn’t as uncomfortable as you would think. He slips his arm around you loosely, and you kind of laugh at the fact that, over the past two weeks, you’ve already formed a sort of makeshift family. 

You let your mind wander to what Maz said. Soulmates don’t exist, you try to remind yourself. But what if they do? Are you supposed to find yours? You’d have to search the entire galaxy for that… is it worth it? You decide it’s not, and you also decide that you very much need sleep. 

“I’m going to comm my friend, you should sleep,” he says, and you sit up straight, nodding. 

“Okay,” you say, watching as he walks off. When he’s gone, you lie, facing the window, on the ground, holding the child in your arms. Sleep catches you quickly, and by surprise. 

~~~oOo~~~

You open your eyes and find yourself in a field of flowers. The sun’s setting, and the sky is red, and in the distance you see a man walking towards you. You gasp, standing too quickly, and nearly fall over. 

You don’t recognize the man, but before he gets closer, he disappears, and you’re back in the hotel room, facing the window, but now there’s a blanket thrown over you and the child is pulling at your hair. You shake your head, trying to forget the strange dream. 

“Hi, little one,” you say, sitting up and holding him up. 

“I think I got a job,” the Mandalorian says behind you, and you jump, turning toward him. “We’ll spend the next few days here then head off there.” 

You nod. “Okay.” You pause, then, “Am I going to be an inconvenience?” 

He shakes his head immediately. “It’ll be fine.” You nod, still unsure, but then he says, “Walk with me?” 

You smile, picking yourself up off the ground and setting down the child, who trails behind you slowly as you cross the room. 

“Stay here,” the Mandalorian says firmly to the child. He picks him up and sets him in a seemingly makeshift bed, and the child, despite having slept with you for however many hours, goes right to bed. 

You follow the Mandalorian out of the building and into the busy streets. He pulls you along until you’re out of the crowd and following a sort of trail. 

“Where are we going? How’d we get out of the city so quickly?” you muse, and he just laughs softly. 

“I know this city like the back of my hand. Had a bounty go really wrong once,” he says, almost laughing at the memory. “And, you’ll see.” 

You grin, and the Mandalorian pulls you off the path and into a wooded area. Before you, there’s a pond, surrounded and hidden by the trees. The water is practically silver, and it sparkles, and flowers of every color grow around it. You almost expect to see fairies. 

“Oh, my god,” you whisper, smiling. “This is so pretty! It’s something right out of a fantasy novel,” you say, looking back at the Mandalorian. You’re sure he’s smiling. You can’t see his face, but you can imagine him smiling. 

“I figured you’d like it,” he says. Then, above the trees, you start to see a little glimmer of light, and realize the planet’s sun must be rising. There’s a large rock near the pond, so you take a seat, patting the spot next to you and waiting for the Mandalorian to join you. He does, and it’s quiet as the sun rises. 

~~~oOo~~~

“I thought you said he was your friend, these people don’t seem like your friends,” you say. 

“It… it’s complicated,” he says. You cross your arms, looking to the table where the crew was gathered, waiting for you to let Mando get back to them. 

“Complicated? Is that why you tried to hide me?” you say, venom laced in your tone. You did not like these people, nor the looks they were giving you. The woman looked like she wanted to eat you alive. 

“Look, you’re just going to have to trust me, okay?” he asks, and you sigh, nodding slightly, looking at the ground. 

The group discusses their plan, and the entire time, you have an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Maybe it’s the way the woman glares at you, or the way the human man says Mando’s name with such venom, but you know that they’re bad news. You begin to spiral, realizing that these are the people Mando associates with. He doesn’t particularly seem to like them, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t more people like them that you’ll have to meet. The high you felt just a few days ago in the city fade, and you realize this is what your life will more likely be. 

As a little kid, you wanted to be an astronaut. You weren’t so well off, growing up, and the idea of being able to escape the world that was so cruel to you was wonderful. And you suppose, now, that after the initial shock, that’s where your mind went. You were here and you could be free, but now the fear’s setting in. This is not what your life was supposed to be, not at all. 

“Hey, you good?” Mando whispers softly to you, pulling you from the group. You nod, and he says, “Okay. You’ll stay here while we go, okay?” 

Your eyes widen and you shake your head wildly. “No, wait, you can’t leave me here! I’ll stay in the back of the ship, I’ll be out of the way, I promise!” 

“Hey, calm down,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be okay, I won’t be away long.” 

“Please, Mando,” you whisper, and he just sighs. 

“It’s too dangerous to take you with.” After a beat, he sighs, looking away from you. “It’s probably equally dangerous to leave you here. Just, please promise me you’ll stay away from the others,” he whispers. You nod. 

“I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.” 

“No,” he says, “it’s not about you staying out of the way. These people… are cruel and dangerous, and I want you to stay safe.” 

“Oh.” 

He walks away, patting your shoulder, and you bound after him and onto the ship, crossing your arms. You sit in the cockpit with him while the droid takes off, and you wonder why he doesn’t trust it. You elect to ask him about it later. He watches the droid so intensely, and you sigh. The droid tells him and you to go join the others, and Mando does. You wonder if you should go and follow him, and after a moment, you do. You regret it of course, because they’re all fighting.  

“So, Mando,” the purple woman snarls, her eyes locked on you, “tell me about the girl.” She steps towards you, and Mando steps in front of you. 

“She seems far off,” the man that looks like a devil says. 

“What is she wearing?” the woman says, grabbing your arm. 

You pull away and the Mandalorian yells, “Enough!” The room falls silent, but the human man laughs. 

“Wow, imagine that. Our Mandalorian friend here has a girlfriend. Mind telling us how that works?” 

The purple woman tilts her head at Mando’s lack of words, then says, “How do you figure that?” 

Rolling his eyes like it’s obvious, he says, “You’ve never been in love, but if you had, you would’ve noticed by now that he’s different around her.” 

You don’t like the way they talk about you and Mando like you aren’t in the room, but you stay silent. 

The woman pouts, crossing to the man. “And how would you know a damn thing about being in love?” Every movement she makes makes you cringe. 

“I know things,” he says, leaning back in his seat. He’s the only one sitting, and when the ship turns quickly, just for a moment, you wish you were sitting to. You would go flying across the room if Mando didn’t grab you by the waist and hold you against him. 

“I agree, though,” the woman says, then. “He’s clearly changed,” she muses, tilting her head, stepping up to him, pressing herself flush against him. Mando stands rigidly and doesn’t look at her, but doesn’t move. 

You try not to react, you do. Because you aren’t his girlfriend. You’ve only known him a month, maybe two, goddamnit. The only reason you’re with him is because he’s nice and offered you a place to stay. Well, and maybe you would like him, under different circumstances. But you don’t have any time for crushes. Not at the moment. 

“Xi’an, stop throwing yourself at him,” the devil-looking one says. She turns to him, them, strutting over. You grasp onto the Mandalorian’s cloak, and he rubs your arm, sensing that you’re very uncomfortable. 

Things calm down, slightly, and the woman begins to ask less mean questions, like what planet you were from and how long you’ve been with the Mandalorian. That is, until the child is discovered. 

“What the fuck is that thing? A pet?” the human asks. You try to take it from him, and he laughs. “You two couldn’t possibly have made this, could you?” 

You wince and Mando tenses, but neither of you say anything, which just leads him to laugh harder. Xi’an hisses, crossing her arms, and you take the baby from the man. 

“Back off,” you say, and it’s the first time they’ve heard you speak, and they’re all shocked. 

“So it is yours? Is that why you keep her around, Mando, eh? Feel bad for impregnating this pretty young thing?” the man says, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You jerk back, into the Mandalorian, and he says, “It’s not ours. It’s best not to interfere in matters that are so beyond you.”

He doesn’t have time to respond, because the droid is alerting the group that you’re there. 

“This won’t talk long, I promise. I’m really sorry about all this,” Mando says, and you nod. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” He hands the child off to you, and you take it. They all head off, and you sit in the corner and set the child on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, trying not to cry. 

~~~oOo~~~

“Where are the others?” you say. Mando shakes his head, and a purple man like Xi’an joins him. 

“Ah, Mando, picked up this pretty young thing, have we?” the man says. “And I thought you were with my sister.” He laughs, then, and you shudder. You don’t get back to the base fast enough. You waste no time getting out of there. When the place gets blown up, you feel no sympathy for them. 

“Those people are toxic,” you say harshly, sitting beside the Mandalorian in the cockpit. “I can’t believe they used to be your friends.” 

Mando just shrugs. 

“Were you truly with that woman? Xi’an?” you ask, and you don’t receive an answer. Not for a time, anyway. 

It’s a forever of silence. “No. We were never… together.” 

You nod. “Not that I care.” It comes out colder than you mean it to, and you wonder why it’s not true. Why do you care? 

The Mandalorian lands on a small forest planet. “We’ll stay here for a few days to rest and recharge.” 

You somehow find yourself laying on the roof of the ship, staring at the stars. The sky is a deep dark blue and the stars are so bright, and you can see the whole galaxy, you think. You pull your phone out of your pocket. You found a way to connect it to the ship so that you could charge it, and you would be forever grateful for that. You go through your music and discover a song that Jane, your old best friend, had always made your listen to. You play it, closing your eyes as you hear the familiar lyrics. 

Mando finds himself beside you, listening to the song you play. 

“What is this?” he asks. 

“Starman. David Bowie,” you say, sort of laughing at the irony, because the man beside you is a starman. “This was Jane’s favorite song.” 

He’s quiet, just his breathing. “What happened to her? Why isn’t she waiting back on your planet?” 

You sigh. “She died. When we were teens. Cancer, or something.” 

“Oh.” A  beat. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

You sit in silence with him for awhile, before you say, “Have you ever been in love?” 

He takes a shaky breath. “There are so many times that I’ve been in long term living conditions with someone, and so many times that I could have sworn I was in love. But, if I’m honest, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can say I’ve been in love.” 

You nod, reaching to his hand and threading your fingers through his. 

“Have you? Been in love, that is.” 

You laugh, looking over to him. “Have I been in love?” You sigh, looking back to the sky. “Sure, I guess. As a child I never felt connected to anyone besides Jane. She was the only human I ever felt connected to until she died. I loved her. Not in the way we’re talking, but I did. After that, I didn’t love anyone. Then, after college, I swore I was in love with the postman at work. He was young and beautiful and so sweet.” 

Mando huffs a laugh. “And were you?” 

“No,” you say thoughtfully. “I was in love with the idea of him. So, actually, no. I’ve never been in love.” 

He hums, nodding. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” 

You smile, shrugging. “Yes. Have you?” He laughs, and you roll your eyes. “There are ways. Ever heard of a blindfold?” 

“No, I’ve never kissed anyone.” 

“Favorite color?” 

He’s damn glad you can’t see his face, because the smile on his face is unreal. 

“I like that green blue color that the water is on some planets.” 

You giggle, turning onto your side to face him, resting on your elbow. “I love that for you.” 

He laughs, turning his head to face see you. “What’s yours?” 

You spend the rest of the night asking each other questions, diving into each other’s lives, and somehow, it’s like you’ve known him forever. No question was too personal or shallow, and nothing was off limits. You only leave the roof when you hear the child moving around inside, and you feel a sense of security with Mando. It’s strange but… you like it. You like him, you like being with him. 

You don’t want to say that you’ve fallen for this starman… but maybe you have. And, although you don’t know it, maybe this starman has fallen for you.

tag list (sorry if i tag anyone who doesn’t wanna be tagged and also sorry that i forgot i had one for the first part, so if i tag you and you haven’t read that part.... you should go check it out. jk.... unless...?): 

@marvels-blue-phoenix​ @simonsbluee​ @javert-delacour​ @loilko​ @jelly-snow-stark​ @mutantsandproud​ @ugly-wall-flower​ @taman-a​

[solautumn]

8. [ Bastion ]

 “Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.”                                          ― Shel Silverstein  

A lot had happened between the initial wave of Scourge invasions, and Solarian struggled to make sense of it all. The shadow magic within him was experiencing an awakening of the likes he’d never felt before, and news quickly spread that the veil between the mortal realm and that of the beyond had been breached. Mawsworn appeared and plucked faction leaders and vanished. Those who remained made a stand in Ice Crown and found a way through the veil, through the Maw of death itself, and a way had been opened back home.

The afterlife realms of the Shadowlands were in danger. Their anima-- the essence of mortal souls resulting from their experiences and actions in life-- were being poured directly into the Maw instead of going to the realms in which they rightfully belonged. Treachery and deceit abounded, and where once a perfect harmony existed to grant souls rest in infinite afterlives, now there was only despair as they plummeted to eternal suffering.

It was a lot for a young priest to process. Worse yet came when his beloved Sandellis was deployed with a troop of Illidari to the realm of Maldraxxus. What was supposed to be an in and out mission turned into a blood bath. Solarian wasn’t privy to all the details, but the troop returned with injuries and short a few men. Solarian trekked out to Orgrimmar to find the lists of the deceased and missing, and found Sandellis Emberstrider among the missing. His heart dropped to his stomach, and he felt sick. Weeks of waiting and trying not to think of the worst were useless. He was missing, and left behind someplace he couldn’t follow. Solarian felt helpless at first, staring at the list through misty eyes, as others shoved him aside to get to the same lists. The shadows within him surged as he rubbed the mist from his eyes and clenched his lower jaw.

How could they leave him? How could they lose him? He’s NOT dead. You have to find him.

Mortals were never meant to cross beyond the veil. In fact, many of those who had gone would not come back. Solarian refused to believe that Sandellis would be one of those who were doomed to perish there. He would go into the depths of whatever hell to drag him back out, but as he stood there shoved aside, he knew he couldn’t do it alone.

Solarian took a few days to get ready, leaving his work at the Dalaran hospital to cross the portal into Oribos, which was bustling full of people. Mortal people. Once there, those mortals who entered were given a choice to align with one of four covenants. The Necrolords of Maldraxxus were militant, unyielding and ruthless. Above all, they valued strength and power, testing those to a melee of survival of the fittest. Solarian would be eaten alive. The vampiric Venthyr of Revendreth were eternal punishers of irredeemable souls. Despite his growing hunger for justice, he didn’t want to risk becoming lost in a lust for blood and retribution against those deemed unworthy. The Night Fae of Ardenweald were servants of powerful nature souls as they went through the autumnal and winter stages of eternal rest, but were under the threat of Drust invasion. Solarian could see himself there, but it was the Kyrian who caught his attention the most.

Known on Azeroth by few as spirit healers, the Kyrian lived lives of eternal service, serving as angelic guides that ferried lost souls from the land of the living to the Arbiter in Oribos who would send them off to their rightful place in the afterlife. They were ordered and purposeful, and valued humility, righteousness, virtue, and above all service. While there were nuances Solarian still couldn’t wrap his head around as well as much to learn yet, he could build rapport with them and gain access to other parts of the Shadowlands with the help he needed.

Bastion was unlike any place he’d ever seen before. The skies were ever blue with portals to other realms and rushing conduits of cloud-like energy from where the Kyrians swooped across the skies. He wondered what it would be like to have wings, to fly as they did and see infinite realms of existence.  Water ran clearer than any he’d ever seen, and brimmed with life. The golden grass the color of his hair glimmered in the sun, softer than any grass he’d ever seen on Azeroth, and tall with plants and groves sprawling beautifully across the landscape. Animals grazed freely, and he was ever mesmerized by the swift runners with their singular gleaming horns proudly pointed skyward. Everything was very much alive. It was temperate, sunny, and perfect. So perfect that he struggled with the idea of this being only temporary.

I’m not supposed to be here. But I want to be.

It was enough to almost make him forget about the desperate need to find his beloved. This was, after all, where souls came to shed their mortal burdens to be reborn as proud Kyrians. But he was no such thing.

He was even assigned a steward on a daily basis. The fluffy owl-like beings came in all sizes. Some days, his steward was taller and broader than him, other days, his steward as no bigger than a gnome. As he understood it, they were beings born from Death’s magic, and served the Kyrians as aides, fixer-uppers of machinery, and general companions.

There was no true night time in Bastion, but a comfortable shade would blanket the land on occasion, and during that time, he would lay down to sleep. Despite the quiet desperation he felt to find Sandellis, Solarian had to be patient. It would not do to rush things and get himself lost or worse. So he began by doing what he did best, healing those that needed it in places of rest, aiding in the collection of herbs. Cataloging their uses and making use of them. It had only been a few days when he was studying the delicate Death Blossom with its petals like wings. If picked incorrectly, the bloom’s essence would wither away.

That’s when he heard the priestess Emilia reach out to him through his mind, just as she had back home. It was a welcome surprise to find someone he knew, someone who could help. There was no training session to be had, but the reassurance that he wasn’t alone, and that she could help him try to locate Sandellis felt like he had been walking in the right direction after all.

Here, he could hear his shadows more clearly. He could pay attention to the whispers that yet lingered within him. Solarian needed to remain alert. He needed to continue building rapport, and taking advantage of this opportunity to learn about the Kyrian history, how they located and ferried souls, and how they trained. He would work with his assigned steward, tag along with trainees as they ventured out beyond Bastion and learn as much as he could about the other realms and build rapport with them, too. Perhaps it would even do him good to work on his physical strength and meditate to find his center again. Learning how to properly use a weapon wouldn’t be such a bad idea, if he could lift one.

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