#The power went out and there's so much red and bright blue lightning outside it's like an alien planet. My phone is at 50%

[solradguy]

Johnny Guilty Gear Strive is not a single day under 37 years old. "Age: Unknown" my ass. Face of a man whose frequent all-nighters in his 20s finally caught up with him. I understand, Johnny, I empathize...

#Photopost #Beard Johnny is awakening something in me... #Jk Johnny's always been a babe. Putting a beard on him's like garnishing a good steak #And like any juicy rare steak worth it's weight I will pick him up with both hands and tear him apart betwixt my jaws like an animal #The power went out and there's so much red and bright blue lightning outside it's like an alien planet. My phone is at 50% #The wind was blowing apples off the tree in the backyard and they were bouncing off the roof haha #Tomorrow I need to go see if it knocked down any of the ripe red ones from its apex... They're small but they're delicious #Tree had so many apples this year a big branch snapped from their weight. Bees'll be happy though when the apples fall and rot #Anyway I think Johnny mostly bottoms for men and less so for women but for Johnny/Sol... well... ;^) #I've imagined that Sol only bottoms if his partner can kick his ass #Lmao this took a turn. Bored and stoned. No internet and no lights to even read by. Unfiltered Sol Radguy after dark thoughts #Suggestive cw #Drugs cw

[bigskydreaming]

@hood-ex

Okay but re: the subject of wingfic.....picture this....His Dark Materials style AU where instead of kids having daemons who shapeshift until they settle, kids have wings that are constantly shifting and trying out new forms until they settle.

And maybe Dick’s generation is the first one to have this.....like, the DC multiverse is constantly having these universe-altering Crises, that are all metaphysical and unleash and reshape cosmic and universal creation energies....and early in Dick’s tenure as Robin, let’s say the DC multiverse undergoes a Crisis whose resolution has an unexpected side-effect.....at that point forward, teens begin manifesting their like, soul or whatever, in physical or metaphysical form, in the shape of wings.

They first pop up around when kids start entering puberty, and tend to settle around them kinda ‘finding themselves’ as adults....and we’re not talking just bird-type wings. Wings of any kind, any shape, any material. They’re described as ‘metanatomy’ not in the sense of metas having altered anatomy but more in the sense of how metaphysical relates to physical.....these wings don’t have to prescribe to any biological or anatomical rules because they’re not biological in nature. Kory’s people describe the wings as a child’s ‘over-soul’ - a manifestation of their fundamental, individualized essence that’s overlaid on top of their physical self.

So, many wings are bird-like in nature, physically capable of being touched, damaged, healed, etc....but just as many are batlike or dragon-like, they can be just wing-shaped and made of fire, they can be mechanical appearing or insectoid or pretty much anything. There was a period when Dick was around fourteen when his wings were just wispy wing-shaped stormclouds behind him, lightning constantly flickering up and down their lengths as though it were the wings’ veins.....another period where they were just giant sweeping shadows behind him that he could nevertheless fly with, and while he was Robin, they most consistently manifested as bright, gleaming swaths of luminescence that glowed as though they constantly had spotlights trained on them. 

(Which had Bruce paranoid it would just make Dick an easy target, until they realized that a ‘side-effect’ of Dick’s wings when they looked like this was instead of making it easier for the bad guys to train their weapons on him, even the most hardened villains would find themselves hesitating to pull the trigger. Some kind of pulsating, emotion-laced effect of those wings drawing their attention was it was more like moths drawn to a flame....they were so busy being momentarily entranced or hypnotized by the spectacle of them that they were usually a second too late in actually firing....by which time Dick was in a position to strike them first. Well, at least that’s how it went until the Joker managed a lucky shot anyway. But then, when isn’t that asshole an exception to the rules?)

Some wings had little quirks or fringe effects that went with them taking on a certain form or appearance....though those didn’t tend to stick around when the wings shifted to a different appearance, unless a person’s wings settled in the shape a particular fringe effect was associated with. Like when Roy hit adulthood, his wings settled in the appearance of bright red feathered wings with black accents......his wings are fairly small and not suited for long range flight, or even flight in general, as they tend to be more useful in helping him glide in short, quick spurts. But they also come with a perk unique to him....when Roy uses his own feathers to fletch his arrows, those arrows never ever miss. 

In adulthood, Donna’s wings settle as giant bird-like wings, all black feathers with silver specks of stars scattered all across them, same as her Troia costume. They’re like patches of night sky sliced straight out of the heavens, and when Donna’s in costume she’s impossible to see cutting through the dark. Her huge sweeping wings would cast an easily noticed shadow over the ground if not for the silver specks dotting her feathers, but thanks to those, by the time she’s close enough for you to make out her features, distinct from the night sky, its far too late to do anything but go oh fuck.

Wally’s wings are more of a presence than a visual. Hummingbird type things that match his speed but never manage his stillness. Beating at the air a furious several hundred wingflaps per second, so even when he’s standing still he’s far from motionless....the air around him thrumming with movement, humming with vibrations that make it look like he’s constantly surrounded by shimmering ribbons of heat baking off an asphalt pavement. And again, that’s when he’s just standing still. When he actually gets agitated, they hit the air like a thunderclap. Sparks shooting up from the points of contact as the friction of them is so fast and furious it ionizes the atmosphere around him all on its own.

Garth’s can be a bit unwieldy when on the surface, but in the water they make him glide faster and smoother than any Atlantean before him. Stretching out from torso to underarms like the wings of a manta ray, they’re black and gray and streaked with purple like his eyes and the tattoo around it, just inverted. The material of them thick and coarse enough that when he flings his arms out or wrapped around himself just so, the folds of his wings draped around him create a dense barrier capable of shrugging off any number of projectile impacts.

Vic’s are mechanical marvels, smooth and sleek metallic expanses that aren’t dissimilar to Marvel’s Archangel, but where Warren’s feathers are knife-like flechettes, Vic’s host a variety of sensory arrays and feed him all sorts of data. Gar’s never fully settle....they shift as often as he does, sometimes vast and feathered, sometimes batlike and leathery....always green though, and always there no matter what animal he shifts into. He’s never a snake so much as a feathered serpent, a pegasus instead of a horse, a manticore instead of a mere lion, and well, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen Beast Boy take to the streets of Manhattan as a T-Rex with giant pterodactyl wings. Why his wings never fully settle could be due to his shape-shifting or it could just be in his nature.....Gar’s the original Lost Boy who’ll never FULLY grow up.

Raven’s are purple and black on the outside but bone-white on the inside.....like her empathy, they cut both ways. When she pulls her wings tight around her and someone else like a protective shroud, they can shield her and those in her care from prying eyes and scrying magic....when she throws them wide and strikes out with them at enemies on either side, the touch of her feathers is like feeling the cold of the grave. Kory’s are a deeper, royal purple juxtaposed beside Raven’s shadowed inky violets.....but rather than feathered, Kory’s are tall and draconian, imperious and imposing canvases adorned with swirls of red and green like nebulas painted across a cosmic backdrop. Curling emerald flames lick around the edges of them just like her starfire sometimes dances through her hair.....even when ‘ablaze’ her wings are cool to the touch if she invites you to touch them, but touch them uninvited and you’re going to get burned. Badly.

Lilith’s are four enormous feathered wings of green and gold and black spread behind her like the many layered wings of a seraph. They’re decorated in various places with dark concentric circles like those found on peacock feathers....until those circles flare and open wide and you realize you’re staring at dozens of eyes that are all looking back at you.....each a window to your own soul, freezing you in place with a glimpse of your own darkest secrets or possible destiny.

Joey’s are many-hued mosaics, like wings made of stained-glass windows. Hazy and indistinct shafts of rainbow light slanting through his varied ‘feathers’ when he spreads his wings in the air behind him.....like viewing screens or windows they show glimpses, afterimages of everyone he’s ever joined his soul to when riding shotgun in their bodies.....making them forever a part of him, a link he can tap into at will and rendering his power less about possession and more about connection, a forever-door that lets him merge with one of his previously tethered-to teammates, no matter where they are in relation to him. But with the slight change that now what he makes up for in range, he loses in stealth, as his wings show up behind the body of his ‘host’ for as long as he remains merged with them.

And Dick’s wings finally settle in adulthood to sweeping feathered wings of blue and indigo banded with gold.....but where his presence is less attention-commanding than in his younger years, his impact is definitely felt. As his settled wings act as an epicenter for a kind of gravitational bubble around him that’s keyed to his mood.....when he’s lighthearted and in high spirits, everyone around him feels a little bit lighter, purely in a physical sense, gravity within his sphere of influence being a little less heavy, leaving his friends and teammates a little lighter on their feet, quicker in their reactions, etc, etc. When he’s feeling heavy though, his immediate environs feel it with him - though that’s not always the worst result when surrounded by enemies he’s better off having feel overburdened, weighed down, like they’re struggling to get to their feet and the air itself is sitting a little heavier in their lungs every time they take a breath.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Firefighter.”

Still back on themed stories. Hope you like :) was fun to write. 

The road ahead had been long, krill had never experienced something like this before, traveling over ground just for the experience of it all, and though, overhead he could see hundreds of hover cars cutting over the land in straight lines, the roads ahead were clear, almost no traffic.

In a way it was almost sad, though he couldn’t really explain why.

Though none of that was entirely as sad as Adam Vir’s driving. The human may have been able to fly anything with wings or a propeller, but when it came to driving a car, the man was an absolute menace.

Still, krill somehow found he liked the feeling of driving, with the sun shining through the open windows and the wind whipping past his antenna. When the human turned his music up, Krill was sent into a state of half trance leaning against the car door as wind whipped past his face and the land outside drew past in rolling hills of crops, yellow or green under the blue sky above.

He wasn’t even afraid when a rainstorm rolled overhead, and he watched raindrops pelt the windshield, rolling along the side of the car where the wind pushed them. Thunder roared outside, but it was almost comforting.

It was still raining when they pulled into the small hotel, just on the outskirts of the small city. It likely wasn’t part of the same establishment as the distant white buildings, but rather taken over as the city began to expand outward. Many of the houses here were still made of wood, and manufactured after old building codes.

Adam stepped from the car rain quickly darkening his shirt as they hurried towards the old but well-kept building.

A friendly clerk greeted them at the front of the counter smiling.

He glanced down at Krill eyes widening, “Well I’ll be a son of a gun, are you.”

“An alien, well yes my friend, he is.”

The man looked up his eyes still wide, “Wow, I it's a privilege. Never thought I’d see one of you in my lifetime, I tell you that.” The human’s smile was surprisingly pleasant, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see krill, and rill liked that. Happy humans were very pleasant, especially the ones that were excited to see you.

He never knew how to feel around humans. Either they scared him half to death, or they were more than welcoming to the point where he couldn’t imagine being in danger.

The Friendly predator behind the desk gave them a room, only one bed because Krill didn’t sleep.

“Storming pretty hard out there?”

“Yeah, some pretty serious lightning.”

The man nodded, “For sure, we don’t usually get storms this bad around here, but the farmers will be happy. We needed the water.”

Krill was mostly surprised to hear that farmers were still relying on their planets unpredictable weather to water their crops, but he didn’t bother to say anything as the two of them climbed the stairs to the third floor -- well Adam climbed, and he sort of just floated his way upwards.

The room they stepped into was old, but well-kept. There were no bugs, like Adam said there could be, and the rain drumming against the window was a rather peaceful sound. Thunder rumbled off in the distance and the occasional flash of lightning cut across the sky, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. Adam had been driving all day, so the human took his leave to rest flopping down on the bed and falling asleep almost immediately under the light of the TV. 

Krill watched the light box interested in what else he might learn about humans, while his human practiced a little bit of death behind him.

The night wore on, and at some point there was a crack of  lightning so bright and loud that it jolted adam from his sleep and krill from his reverie. It went away quickly and both man and alien went back to what they had been doing before. The TV channel stayed on, and slowly turned from nighttime television to reruns of concerts.

Krill hadn’t been expecting the music, and it lulled him into a sort of half trance.

It was only when the power went off did Krill finally awaken.

In the dark, and without a sense of smell he didn’t notice anything was wrong for the first few minutes except for the slowly increasing temperature. Something glowed orange outside the window, and it was only then, when the light broke slightly through in to the room was krill able to see a strange haze that had gathered up around them.

As the orange light outside grew brighter, a distant crackling noise reached him and the room lit up even brighter until he could see the acrid black cloud beginning to build around them. 

A strange wailing noise reached him just as he was rushing across the room.

Before he got there Adam awoke coughing violently.

The orange light outside was joined by flashing red and blue.

Adam rolled form the bed and onto his knees on the floor coughing and hacking violently.

“What’s going on!.” Krill yelled 

Adam continued to cough pulling his shirt up over his face, “Fire.” He coughed again 

“Don’t you have alarms for that!” krill insisted 

“Doesn’t matter now.” His coughing grew worse, and he tugged Krill down beside him as he crawled his way towards the window and the flickering orange light. A wall of smoke billowed up above their heads, and it seemed the closer they were to the floor the safer.  He reached up to undue the latch on the windowpane, but as soon as the window was open, and they looked down a gout of flame spit up towards them from the second story window. Adam cursed and fell back into the smokey room as fire licked at the edges of the glass.

Krill could feel the radiating heat licking away at his skin.

Still coughing, Adam grabbed Krill again and began crawling towards the door. Reaching it, he threw out a hand against the wooden frame feeling the door with his free hand.

Below them, the floor was growing hot, and Krill could hear the boards creaking.

Adam covered his hand with his shirt and quickly shoved the door open as the two of them spilled out into the hotel hallway. The smoke was thick and dark here, but no fire.

Behind them flames were just beginning to lick at the windowsill and corner of the room.

Acrid black smoke followed them into the hallway.

Adam slammed the door shut coughing and crawling along down the hallway as thick choking clouds billowed over them.

Krill watched in horror as the smoke and failing oxygen slowly choked the human.

Krill survived on carbon, and smoke did nothing much to damage him, though the fire certainly would. 

He could breathe just fine for the time being. 

As they passed, the human knocked loudly on as any doors as he could unsure if everyone else had awoken when the fire began. They had reached the landing on the second floor now.

A gathering black cloud filtered up the stairwell with a flickering red light and tongues of flame. Krill was scared, sure he was going to die. The human continued to cough and hack violently as he grabbed Krill and dragged him back into the smoke on the second floor.

A few of the doors were open here, testament to the people who had managed to escape though the door right below their room flickered and smoke continued to pour out.

With fire behind them and fire in front of them, Adam stood hand over his nose and mouth, grabbed Krill by the arm and raced forward.

The heat was unbearable and Krill screamed in half pain as they roared past the doorway and though an acrid black cloud. The heat licking at them from the side. They were halfway down the hall when the human tripped and went spilling onto the carpet.

It was impossible to see now, like they had walked into a thick fog from a fog machine.

The human continued to wheeze crawling along the floor with Krill at his back.

They had almost reached the stairs when the human slowed, grew still and collapsed.

Krill panicked.

He couldn’t see, and the roaring of  distant fire and the sound of sirens nearly deafened him.

Adam lay unconscious on the smoke stained floor.

Behind him the smoke continued to pour out but it seemed that the fire had died down.

Voices echoed up at him from the stairwell at, what he assumed to be, the end of the hallway.

Somewhere in the smoke, a blinding light, and a massive hulking shape appeared out of the darkness. He wondered vaguely if it was death come to take both of them.

He couldn't hear or barely see anything as the smoke billowed around them, but the figured dropped to its knees as other lights swirled around behind it.

It was humanoid in shape, and as it reached out he could see the five fingered hand covered in a massive glove.

Whatever it was it didn’t seem to want to hurt him, and, floating, he grabbed onto its arm.

Two more figures cut past them through the blackness moving up the hall and stopping at each door.

The bulky figure grabbed adam by the feet, adjusted him so the souls of his feet were on the ground. Then reached out grabbed him by the hand and hauled him upright and over one shoulder.

Adam hung listlessly against the creature’s back as the thing turned and made it’s way back towards the stairs.

Krill was at its back, still holding on, and what he saw was a massive oxygen tank, like the ones he had seen Adam use for diving.

Was this thing human?

They clattered down the stairs moving down as other entities were moving up. A billow of smoke cleared, and he saw one of the figures to be wearing a full gass mask.

He was pretty sure these were humans!

Humans who were walking straight into a burning building! Prepared and on purpose!

They turned the corner form the stairwell, and the hulking figure dragged them through the propped door to their right.

Smoke cleared form Krill’s face and krill could finally see the inky blue sky above them lightened slightly at the horizon by a rising sun.

He could see the creature better now, and to his shock it was most definitely human. A human wearing a thick brown-yellow uniform, helmet, gas mask and breathing apparatus with reflective strips all over their body. The grounds around the were crowded with frightened looking humans, and massive red trucks spouted gouts of water towards the smoking building.

They were dragged forward onto the lawn, and the figure knelt depositing Adam on the ground as others rushed over with an oxygen mask fitted snugly over his face.

“Are you alright?” Someone said, and he turned to find the face of another human as their rescuer turned and back towards the building.

“I, yes, I think so….. I’m a doctor…” he said not sure if he was really thinking straight.

He looked down at Adam, “Is he going to be ok?”

“Yes, he’s going to be fine.”

Krill turned to look back at the building watching in awe as the humans worked to put out the fire. Massive hoses, and some kind of chemical agent that could be thrown in like a grenade to cool the fire.

They walked around in massive flame resistant suits wearing gas masks and oxygen tanks only to plunge into the smoke and return moments later. He saw others being carried out and laid down on the grass, only for them to turn around and do it all over again.

Where any other creature in the universe might have balked from a fire, let it go on, the humans were not interested in allowing this to continue. They raced TOWARDS the fire instead of away from it, carrying unconscious individuals on their backs if they had to, and in their arms if that was needed.

Krill marveled at the sheer bravery, or perhaps, stupidity of these humans.

The flames died down and all that was left was smoke.

Adam was moved from the ground and into the back of an ambulance. Krill watched light spill from upper story windows as the humans searched every room unwilling to leave anyone unaccounted for. Krill learned in the ensuing time that the hotel manager had tried to cut cost and had bribed someone to avoid checking the alarm system.

Krill watched as a few of the strangely dressed figures pulled off their masks and helmets showing sweat and soot covered faces.

Real humans betting the odds against real fires.

Turning back, he saw Adam awake and sitting up. His face was tinged dark grey with the smoke, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was still coughing, but he was conscious. A figure appeared from the chaos.relieved from their mask and helmet.

She stopped by his ambulance, “I’m glad to see you’re awake.” the woman said, smiling past her sweat and soot stained face, her hair short and dark.

Adam looked at her, “Are…. you the one who carried me out?” He wondered 

She smiled and nodded.

His eyes widened, “Damn, the whole of my 200 lbs ass.”

She grinned, “Yep all of it.” 

They shook hands, “Adam.”

“Sofia, I have to get back to work, but I’m glad to see you’re ok.” She turned and vanished back into the madness.

Adam shook his head.

Krill floated next to him, “Who are these people?”

“Firefighters.” 

“Seriously… that’s really what they are called?”

“Yes.”

“And this is how they make a living?”

“Yes.”

“Running into burning buildings pouring buckets of water on stuff and generally putting their lives at risk on a constant basis?”

“Yep that sounds about right.”

Krill stared at the human, he had been being sarcastic for most of that, but sarcasm becomes kind of pointless when your sarcasm is correct. He turned to look at the humans finally putting out the last of the fire.

How strange.

Humans who challenged the flames. One of the most powerful and destructive forces in the universe, and their job was to stop it?

HE shook his head in half amazement half wonder half annoyance.

Humans never stopped, did they. 

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

[silentprincess17]

Sometimes Things Have to Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7: Dawn of the Second Day

TW: Huge wounds, massive haemorrhage (a lot of blood loss yes I am a medic geek) and pain. Also Nintendo owns Legend of Zelda and some of the dialogue used. Please don't sue me.

This time, they teleported in, grabbed him, and teleported out.

Zelda screamed his name, but it got lost in the vortex of red paper slips, as he felt his insides split apart and then reform.

He was glad though. Incredibly glad that they’d taken him and not his Princess. He ended up on the floor, in the big arena that wasn’t an arena and he coughed, trying to get the sand out of his mouth, and eyes.

He heard Zelda shouting for him, and it suddenly hit him-this was it. The perfect opportunity. He could try and get her out. He was outside Hylia above!

And just as he thought that, four giant metal clamps locked onto his limbs. And that same cursed red glowing thing was applied so he couldn’t move. He swore at them but stopped struggling. He would have to bide his time, he already felt a little weak from not eating for three days, so every store of energy was precious right now. He had to wait for the perfect opportunity and then unleash it all.

He took a moment to try and calm down. Think things through. He was outside the cell, that was better than being inside. He just had to be observant and careful. He started by trying to determine what their motive was, but he wasn’t sure what was happening. Why had they decided to take him out, if they were only going to restrain him down again?

He looked up, at least they hadn’t clamped his neck. And then a… well. There was no polite way to think of him, if Link was being honest. And frankly, being polite was really quite low down in his list of concerns at the minute.

The Yiga Clan were... normally, at least, easily categorisable. All the Yiga Foot soldiers were thin, agile, capable of moving at lightning speed with their teleportation. The Blademasters were by comparison much larger, and they wielded the more powerful windcleaver. And now he knew of the researchers, but they looked a lot like the Foot soldiers, just with a red lab coat on.

This man… although dressed as a Yiga, didn’t match one of the above categories. He was, well, fat. He had a huge abdomen, which Link didn’t really see working in a fight, either with a sickle or a windcleaver and he was confused really. It was the most bizarre thing he’d seen since arriving.

Link wondered if the lack of food was getting to him.

“Yeah, IT'S YOU! You're that Link guy I've been looking for! And the Princess of course but she’s BORING."

Uh… what? This guy had been… looking… for him? Not to sound egoistical, but wasn’t it really obvious who he was? He literally wore bright blue and had the Master Sword strapped to his back. Admittedly, he didn’t have those two things right now but…

"I need to bust out my serious moves... A secret technique taught by my mother's father! It will...destroy you!"

Uh yeah. It probably would do that because Link was currently strapped to the floor with no weapons. So, whatever this guy chose to do, it would, in all likelihood, work by default.

“Release him from the magnesis bonds! NO WAIT! I need to finish my speech first!”

This man was starting to get on Link’s nerves, like a bratty child who wanted a sweet. But he just said to release his bonds. Yes, if that happened, he would destroy them all, steal all their weapons, physically break down those bars, rescue his Princess and then hightail it out of the desert. So, he would remain calm. Collected. And not think of what happened yesterday.

“Now. Hero of Hyrule. I will DUEL you. So someone told someone who told someone yada yada yada that I should give you a fair chance, and something testing something Princess, I'm not sure, I fell asleep half-way through, so here we are. Of course, you’re a KNIGHT so I assume you know what a DUEL is!"

Link remained silent. He figured it probably wouldn't work in his favour if he started to laugh.

"You know, your silence really is unnerving. ANYWAY, I will fight with my chosen weapons, and you will be provided with a Duplex Bow, ten arrows, a Vicious Sickle and a Windcleaver. A very generous selection, in my opinion. If you defeat me, I will allow you to walk away.” Link’s eyes widened. “YES, WALK AWAYYY!” He laughed, “I won’t kill you to DEATH! Even-if-that's-what-I-really-want-can-you-imagine-being-named-Top-Banana-Of-The-Yiga-Clan-comma-Slayer-Of-The-Hero!”

Okay yeah, there was clearly something wrong with this guy, but Link focussed on the important parts. A Duel. Of which the outcome would be freedom. But. He hadn’t mentioned Zelda. No matter, Link would be a fool not to accept. He’d defeat this fat lug and then Kill. Them. All.

And those Blademasters that had stood on that cursed table? He’d make sure to find his sword and would ensure they suffered a slow, prolonged death. But first, he’d win, take Zelda to the Castle where she’d be safe, and then he’d come back. And exterminate them like the rats they were.

He nodded.

They dropped the connection, freeing him, and he didn’t try anything. Not yet anyway. Once they gave him weapons though, Link would forgo whatever pact he’d made with this man. This didn’t count as an honourable situation anyway, this wasn’t a duel between Knights, it was a duel between captor and captee.

What he hadn’t been expecting, was the fat man to throw a small capsule in the middle of the hole, and the capsule didn’t fall, no, it hovered in place. And the outlines of a dome formed, it extended from the centre of the seemingly bottom-less hole and spread out to include a small ring of sand around said hole. All of a sudden, sound seemed to stop coming through, and he could barely hear Zelda, although maybe she’d come to realise it was futile and had gone quiet.

The capsule made a clicking noise, like an activation of something, and then a burst of red light cascaded from it, down the dome, forming a crimson-lined grid along the surface, almost like red electricity was crawling along the lines. They connected to metal ridges that Link hadn’t even noticed in the sand. He swallowed. He knew, instinctively, that he wouldn’t be able to escape. He wouldn’t be able to get out. Because it was the same thing that had trapped him in those cuffs.

It would have to be honourable. By default.

Still, Link wasn’t feeling that scared. If the fat man wanted a duel, Link would give it to him.

“In the name of Calamity Ganon!” He pranced around, shimmying from one foot to the other. "That's what you say when you start a DUEL right?!"

Link decided to ignore him, and simply looked over to where he thought the Princess was, the red light made it hard to see. “In the name of Princess Zelda Bosphoramus Hyrule, my charge, my liege… my Princess.” And his heart whispered one more thing, my soulmate.

It had started out well enough, the man simply summoned rocks at him, not unlike an octorok, but these ones were considerably larger, with a glowing upside down Sheikah eye on them. Still, he dispatched the obnoxious man in quick time, shooting a well-timed arrow into his head, and then jumping in bullet-time to attack with the sickle.

And then the fat man got angry, stamping his foot into the ground like a child having a tantrum. He moved to hover on top of the hole, and this time he had a blue barrier. Link had wasted one arrow hitting it, only for it to bounce right off. Useless. And there was no way for Link to jump in, seeing as he was without his paraglider and he'd fall down anyway, not sideways to the centre of the abyss where the man was.

So, he bid his time, going as far back as possible and decided to just observe the attack. He remained calm, although for some reason he was a little more flustered than he ordinarily was. Perhaps because the Princess’s safety relied on this fight. Yes, that wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but normally, she’d be hidden, well-protected, should anything go wrong with him. This time… If he failed, then who knew what the consequences would be.

He refocussed, the next move simply involved two rocks hovering horizontally and then vertically to the man, where his barrier faulted for a split second, just before he chucked them at Link. It was easy enough to dodge, and now Link knew what to do. He simply hit the man when the barrier was down, and the Yiga lost control of the rocks, so they hit him instead. After another couple of rounds, where Link looked worryingly at his meagre five remaining arrows, another tantrum fest occurred, this time jumping up and down with one foot whilst floating. Link rubbed his eyes in case he was hallucinating. No, he wasn’t.

And that is where everything went wrong.

The man was now using that accursed red thing to move a giant metal ball at him. The ball had spikes. Huge ones at that. And despite Link keeping his eyes trained on the man, his barrier did not fall. Not once.

Crap.

How?! How could the Yiga mentally control metal?! How was he supposed to defeat him now?

The spiked sphere continued to crawl after him, a slow and steady reminder of what was coming. Link was trying hard not to panic. What else could he do? He didn’t have any of his other weapons. He didn’t have shock arrows. He didn’t have his bomb bag. Maybe he could parry the sphere? But he didn’t have a shield either. He cried, almost, thinking back to his prized Hylian shield sitting in the Inn at Kara Kara Bazaar.

What else what else what else

He knew one thing for certain though. He wouldn’t be able to keep up running forever. Not as weak as he currently was from all the stresses over the past two days and the lack of food. Yes, the sphere moved slowly. But it moved. And eventually he would tire.

The man took back the sphere and Link aimed, hoping his barrier would come down for one second, but no. All he did was pause before sending the sphere. Straight. Back. At. Him.

Goddesses above he wouldn’t last.

Was this his true Hero trial?

Was this how he would die?

He decided to try to use the windcleaver to generate some gush of air that would what? Move the giant ball? He was crazy enough to at least attempt because what else could he do? None of his weapons would even reach the man, even if he chucked them, let alone penetrate the seemingly solid blue barrier.

He ran to the edge of the dome, hoping to be a little out of the ball's range to give him some breathing room should this go wrong, but he had no such luck, because it came, hard and fast for him. He waited until it came close then swung the blade down and tried to repel it.

It obviously failed; no colossal, incredibly heavy, metallic sphere was going to shift with the mere power of air.

Belatedly, he realised that the fat man could afford to be fat. Who was going to hurt him if he could levitate himself out into a pit of no end so there was no hope of reaching him, put up a barrier that you had no hope of penetrating, trap you in a hemisphere so you were effectively at his mercy and was armed with a deadly weapon only he could control?

Link only had just about enough time to turn, for his fingers to hit the dome, before the spikes rammed into his back and Link heard himself scream.

He was used to pain, he thought distantly. He’d hurt himself so many times, from climbing accidents, to training mishaps, to when he’d first started fighting monsters, especially those Goddess damned Lynel swords, oh, wait, no, the crushers were worse.

But he’d never had enormous sharp cones ram into his back, upper thigh and calves, all at once. He was effectively pinned against the dome. And then the ball was pulled out, and shoved right back in.

And again.

And again.

And then for flavour, the fat man shifted it just to the right, so now his wounds grew and grew, until he was slowly ripped apart, until the only thing actually holding him upright was the metal sphere.

Link lost track of everything. He’d never felt so humiliated, so weak.

He’d never lost a fight.

What would happen now? What would happen to him and Zelda?

He felt wet, lethargic and so, so heavy. Which struck him as odd, especially considering he’d probably lost a lot of blood. Shouldn’t he be light?

Little spots of blackness coated his vision, somehow he blinked and he was on the floor, on his knees, the dome gone, his hands shaking trying to hold himself up. His blood rushed through his ears, thundering too loudly, and everything else was muted, muffled, and he could no longer focus properly.

"-oga! Did you se- I did i-"

Link must have blacked out again, because the next thing he knew he was being hauled by his armpits back into the cell, and his injuries were stretched even more, and Link screeched in pain. He was so far gone it was silent, and he lost consciousness yet again, because he practically fell on top of Zelda, landing on his front, in her arms. She was shaking, maybe? Or was it him? Probably him, but he couldn’t tell, and he heard her furiously mutter under her breath about hypo-something shock, but really, he was barely holding onto the few remaining threads of consciousness he had.

“Link?” She sounded frightened, but he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, when he opened his mouth, he coughed up an alarming amount of blood. He felt some of it dribble down his chin and he heard her half scream in response.

“LINK! No! In - name of Hylia st- with me! Link!” She gently held his head in her hands, his head rolling in her hold because he'd now lost what little control he had over his muscles. He focussed on the softness of her touch, and how it contrasted so deeply to the agony that he was in, although everything was dulled around the edges right now, probably from the blood loss. He stared at the growing pool of bright crimson around them, it seemed to be coming from everywhere. Like he was a dam that had suffered too many hits and now all the water was leaking through. That wasn’t that far from the truth to be fair.

“Zel-” He tried to say something, to reassure her that he would fight to stay awake. But it ended in another, harsher, coughing fit, and it felt like Daruk had grasped his chest in his hands and squeezed. Dear Goddesses, he felt his vision start to fade again, it was already half faded, in all honesty. And it scared him, because this wasn't the same blackness he'd had after being knocked cold from a fight. This was darker, more permeating. It felt... more permanent.

She cried, and it pained him to see her tears for him, but the blackness forced its way upon him, and he slowly closed his eyes, trying his hardest not to give in, but even from the start he knew it was a losing battle. Vaguely he wondered if the sword would remember him. He wondered what would happen to his family, to Hyrule, to her, if there was no Hero for the Calamity. He wondered, if he'd had more time, more courage, if he and Zelda could have-

She cradled his head in her arms, gently brushing his matted hair away from his forehead, and he allowed himself a final deep breath, for her lavender to imprint in his mind one last time.

Link was not... scared of death. He knew it was inevitable, and there was a significant probability of him dying, either in the line of duty to the Crown, or against the Calamity, his destiny-chosen battle. But... he was scared now. He was scared of what the consequences of him dying meant. Her verdant eyes stared at him, and she was saying something but he could no longer hear. She was his biggest regret, he couldn't stomach leaving her, here and now, because who knew what horrors would await her once he left. So much guilt, so much shame, so much despair hit him, in the final moment but there was nothing left to he done. He tried to convey that to her, through his gaze, that he was sorry, for not being enough, for not doing enough, for failing to get her out of here- the list continued, but he was rapidly losing what little control he had left, and he felt his eyes glaze over. He’d seen enough death to know where he stood. Because everything ached, he felt increasingly weaker, and his breathing grew progressively more ragged, as stabs of pain shot up his ribs for every centimetre he inhaled in.

He gasped for air, one final time, trying to commit her to his memory, and that seemed to be the very last assault his body could handle. Because within seconds he lost all sense of the world, his final thought was of his silent princess, and of a lullaby, that would forever haunt him till the end of time.

#zelink #botw zelink #botw #botw link #botw zelda #pre-calamity #yiga clan #master kohga #Alternate take on Memory 7 - Blades of the Yiga #angst with a happy ending #enemies to friends to lovers #more so understanding enemies? #heavy angst #angst and feels #some fluff intermixed because i am incapable of writing pure angst #selectively mute link #slow burn #mutual pining #link's pov

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks: Chapter 8

AO3 Link!

Chapter 1 Link!, Chapter 2 Link!, Chapter 3 Link!, Chapter 4 Link!, Chapter 5 Link! Chapter 6 Link! Chapter 7 Link!

Summary: What makes them tick, what gets under their skin, our villain wants to find out. Let’s see.

Warnings: These characters are going through it, the warnings on AO3 for Blood and Injury, Childhood Trauma, and Emotional/Psychological Abuse start here.

Author’s note: it has been almost 72 hours since Revenge of the Spider Queen aired in English and now I can finally post this. MINOR SPOILERS INSIDE (and in future chapters).

Chapter 8: Endurance Test

Red Son took a half step back, trying to take stock of his surroundings and keep his breathing steady at the same time. MK and Mei had to be somewhere nearby, he didn't know precisely how the Calabash worked but he could make a pretty decent assumption based on their experiences so far and what Jin had told them. This was all perception, a trick of the virtual reality simulation peaking into his brain and showing him an approximate visage of what he had experienced before. He was not truly back in one of the worst day's of his life...

And it was painfully obvious with the less than conspicuous absence of his mother. He remembered this day well, far too well perhaps, and his mother should still be standing behind him on his left. Not even the fairest hint of her wind was there to suggest she had ever left or been there in the first place. Was she there before? He had been too distracted by hearing his father repeat those possessed words again to know.

"And what do you think you're doing?" That same voice growled out lowly, sending a shudder up Red Son's spine that only intensified as DBK's blue glowing eyes settled on him. "Sneaking away?"

"No!" Red Son answered quickly, standing straighter and shaking his head with a forced smile. It came so easy, too easy, too fast, like he was slipping into an old habit. It was an old habit. "No, father, I-"

"Don't lie to me," DBK growled. "I don't trust anything you say. Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure time and time again, nothing but disappointment!"

He'd heard the words before, he thought he had moved past them, but as he heard his father speak down to him again he found himself repeating the past. Standing tense and clenching his fist and feeling his sharp teeth clench against his lip, threatening to break the skin with the taste of copper and there was ice flowing down his neck-

"Traitor-yes! Perhaps..." And then he remembered what was to come next, eyes widening in fear as his father turned more fully toward him and his mother wasn't there. "You thought you could deceive me? Stand against me!?"

Red Son felt himself scream at his body to move to run to shield himself to do anything but he just watched in terror as his father's not his father no he wouldn't do this fist slammed right into his face and-

He was pulling his own fist back from his face, about to send one more punch into it before he stopped himself with a gasp and a shudder. He looked around frantically, breathing heavy and panicked, no longer in the throne room of his parents but...

"Uh, what's he doing Wukong?"

He stood up straight, head reeling around and instantly recognizing the scene before him.

He was young. He was small. He was powerful, more powerful than he had been in centuries, flames burning bright under his skin in a way that felt so fake but so familiar. And he was facing Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie.

There was the soft whisper of a woman's chuckle and words he couldn't quite hear on the wind and-

"What in the world are you doing?"

He turned again, his face burning in pain before it faded as if he had never been touched. His father was standing before him again, smaller and scowling in a chef's frock.

"This was your idea, finish getting ready before the festival starts."

----------

"Uh, Kid?" Macaque repeated, his fake so fake he could see that now half smile faltering into something more genuine frustratedly confused. "Come on, talk to me. We're not going to get anywhere if you don't comu-"

"Shutup..."

"Huh?" Macaque's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What did you just say to me?"

"Shut up!" MK screamed, teeth clenched as he extended the staff into the fake monkey. Calabash or not he refused to face the man who had messed with his head so badly without getting at least one cheap shot in for revenge.

He felt a sense of satisfaction as Macaque's face twisted in pain and surprise and anger and-

Suddenly he was in the sky looking down at that nearly identical face, plus one milky white eye and scar, smirking up at him in cruel victory before a fist slammed into his stomach and pain radiated through his entire body.

It was so much like when it really happened that he almost forgot this was fake, just like everything Macaque had done before this very moment every smile and ruffle of his hair and compliment on his technique. When this happened for real his whole body burned like fire had lit through his veins in a single second and then rushed to escape immediately after and out through that spot on his back.

The Calabash didn't know how to replicate that properly. That's the only reason MK found himself able to tense and curl a fist and turn to smash the face of the shadow clone that had lead him here and-

"OW, what the hell, Bud!?" Wukong yelped as MK's fist landed in his face. "I know I'm invincible but that still smarts!" He rubbed his nose, looking up at his student with a look of genuine emotional hurt and confusion. "If you didn't wanna watch the fireworks you could have just left..."

MK ripped his hand back in shock and fear, staring at the Monkey King in confusion. He had just punched Monkey King, a fake Monkey King but still his mentor, right in the face. And to the Calabash clone it was out of nowhere and for no reason.

"I..." MK started, breathing growing heavy and fast and there was a wheeze under it as he heard a chuckle and some kind of mumble distantly.

----------

"Oh no!" Mei yelled, spinning around as she stood and glowered up at the fake visage of her ancestors. "No, I have done this already! I've proven myself long ago and I refuse to let some computer program play with my brain and use my family to make me prove myself again!"

Mei was angry. Mei was strong. And Mei lifted her blade above her head and slammed it into the wall behind her and smashed it, debris flying around her and making the fake visage around her blow away like smoke through the wind.

She smiled in victory, wide and triumphant and there was a chuckle, loud as if it was right behind her ear as she felt something not unlike hands pushing her forward and-

MK looked up at her in confusion, holding his chest as it slowly stained red from the fresh slash across his body. "Mei? What... what did I...? Why?"

There was a wall there, Mei knew there was a wall there not even a second ago. But now her best friend was falling to the ground and her sword was stained with red and her parents stood behind MK looking at her in anger and disgust. She stared in confusion and horror and she knew this wasn't real it couldn't be real and-

The food she was holding slipped from her hands as she gasped and looked around wildly, breathing heavy in confusion as Pigsy's angered expression changed to match the worried one that Tang was sending her way.

"Uh, you ok Mei?" Pigsy asked, eyebrow raising.

"You're going to require more work than the others, I see." The voice that matched the chuckle she had heard before whispered in her ear.

----------

"And you are becoming annoying," that same voice, Princess Jade Face's voice, rang through the tiny room Jin had been breaking his hands in as he attempted to escape. He couldn't hear whatever had come before that and, but he could only assume it was directed at one of the trio. "It's actually kind of depressing, watching you hurt yourself like this."

"Oh come off it," Jin hissed, rubbing his knuckles and scowling as he sat back down. "You're enjoying this."

"Hmmmmn, not really," Jade said, humming again as she typed something on the console. "You know, if you had just cooperated you could be sitting in the actual room with your brother." He voice grew cold, annoyance and frustration lining under it. "All you had to do was follow the rules."

"And what are you going to do 'bout that?" Jin asked, tapping his fingers against the floor. Ring, pinky, ring, middle, pointer. Repeat. Repeat.

"Oh, I've already done plenty," Jade continued, voice back to her neutral happy tone. "All you have to do is sit tight and maybe I will release you both to the Spider Queen aware enough for you to explain to her exactly why I had to keep you to myself. Or not. It depends on whether or not you continue to break back into your code."

Jin cursed under his breathe, scowling down at his hand as a lightning jolt of pain coursed through it and immediately eased. A warning. She'd noticed his little pattern.

"It's not really that big of a deal to me, though," she continued with a chuckle. "Everything is going exactly how I want it to. Even if you break out of there you won't be able to find your little fail safe. So don't bother trying."

She went quiet after that, and Jin listened for the tell tale sound of outside noise filtering into the Calabash through the opening she had opened to allow her voice to speak through (he was glad they never remembered to add wireless voice to this thing). And there was none. He waited a moment, sitting still.

No voice.

No lightning jolt of pain.

The door opened and Jin smirked.

Good.

She hadn't noticed the pattern he'd been drawing with the tail he had finally figured out how to control.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #sfaut #smoke flasks and unfinished tasks #mk #Qi Xiaotian #red son #mei #long Xiaojiao #jin #they are not going to be having a good time for a while #buckle up folks

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 2

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Ghost Encounter

Before that incident occurred, Lin Yan didn't believe that there were ghosts in the world. He studied history during his undergrad and continued straight into doing his master's in archaeology. When he was on an expedition with his professor, he picked up the bones of a dead body and plucked a jade cicada from the mouth of a mummified body. Ghost stories were always something joked about in their dormitories. If something happened to people after they died, then the world would know about it. For example, if someone picked up the imperial blue bowl of the emperor, the old man would notice and stand up, shouting: "That's mine!" How interesting.

The dead should just let the dust from the past settle and stay quiet.

Lin Yan had just finished dinner when things changed. He didn't live in the school dormitories. He had moved into the apartment his parents had set aside for him when he got married because of the fights his old roommates in the dorms had with their in-laws on the phone. This apartment was much closer to the school, and he had been living alone since then. He cooks alone, plays games alone, and travels halfway across the city to visit his parents on the weekends. Lin Yan is one of the tens of thousands of small researchers in dozens of colleges and universities in this city. If he makes great accomplishments, his future will be bright, but if he's average, then he will be lost in the crowd.

That day, he made himself Fried Sauce Noodles. Once the minced meat was boiled, it was mixed into the sweet stir-fry noodle sauce. The noodles were drained out of the pan, topped with the sauce, and it was delicious. Lin Yan took the bowl and sat in front of the computer, watching "My Old Memories of Old Beijing" and eating the noodles.

The air was humid and stuffy in the early summer weather. Suddenly, halfway through the movie, a clap of thunder rang out outside. It didn't take long for large raindrops to pour down, and the thin lines of water on the window glass became a curtain of rain, pattering against the windows.

Lin Yan was busy turning off the video. Before his computer had fully shut off, a bolt of lightning flashed across the night sky. With a snap, the computer went black.

Afraid that something might happen, Lin Yan complained and unplugged the computer from the socket. He used a desktop computer specially equipped for 3D restoration renderings of cultural relics. As soon as the power came back after the thunderstorm had passed, he would have to submit a repair request.

Tomorrow, he'd have to trouble Yin Zhou to repair the machine again.

Suddenly, a strange feeling washed over him.

Cold, inexplicably cold, sending a shiver up his spine.

He didn't know when the temperature of the room started to drop. He didn't even notice it while he was watching the movie. Now it feels like he was inside an ice cave. The cold is coming out from all corners and enveloping his body. The sweat on his body turning cold, his t-shirt sticking to his back.

Lin Yan vigorously wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, thinking about how the weather must be cooling down because of the rain, and decided to get up to find a long-sleeved shirt. Before he could get up, his eyes glanced at the computer screen and nervously sat back down.

With the lights on in the room, the situation in the room was clearly reflected on the dark computer screen. In front of the screen was Lin Yan's face, and behind him was the window, which opened wide inward, and the curtains were swept around by the wind. It was the "person" standing in front of the curtain that made Lin Yan frozen from head to toe.

That's not it; it was more like the shape of a person - a person wearing a strange hat.

Lin Yan stared blankly at the things on the screen, a sense of panic slowly creeping up his spine.

It must have been a clothes hanger that he forgot to move, there's no need to jump to conclusions. Lin Yan pulled at the corner of his clothes, took a deep breath, and swung his head around.

Nothing was there. Everything in the house looked normal. The only difference was that the raindrops were coming even larger, the rainwater twisting into small streams on the glass and flowing down.

His suspenseful heart began to calm down.

No! Lin Yan went numb all of a sudden. Not only was there no one there, but the windows were clearly locked, and the curtains were tightly tied on both sides. How could they be blown by the wind? What he saw in the reflection on the screen just now. . . what was going on?

An illusion! It must be an illusion! Lin Yan clenched his jaw. He couldn't help but pinch himself to keep himself sane.

There was a small electric crackle. The power went out, and the whole room fell into silent darkness.

Almost at the same time, the indicator light of the computer monitor suddenly flickered. The two small red lights looked like blinking eyes, accompanied by the squeaking sound of the whirring motors. The screen that was in a completely power-off state glowed green as if the screen saver had been switched. It's like a procedure.

No. . . Wasn't there a power outage? Lin Yan was completely speechless. His whole body was pushed back into the chair by the sudden and weird atmosphere. Then the screen flashed and, as if someone was typing, large characters appeared one after the other on the screen, piercingly red.

"The first day of the month of Wushen; the death date is approaching."

Another clap of thunder boomed outside the window.

Lin Yan swallowed hard and stared at the line of words on the screen. He tried his best to calm himself down, but his mind went blank.

It must be. . . It must be Yin Zhou pranking him.

He was a professional programmer and technical expert. Messing with the program to mess up the power grid. It must be boring to try and scare yourself or something.

"The first day of the month of Wushen; the death date is approaching."

The line of red letters flashed on the screen twice and disappeared. The computer then powered back off. Only Lin Yan's heavy breathing remained in the dark room. He took out his cell phone from his pant pocket and tried to call Yin Zhou. Before he pressed the call button, there was a heavy and repetitive tapping on the windowpane.

"Taptaptap. . . taptaptap"

He couldn't see anything in the heavy curtain of rain.

Lin Yan suddenly jumped up and leaned against the computer desk, staring out the window. This. . . this was the twelfth floor, what could be knocking on the window?

"Taptaptap. . . taptaptap"

The knocking increased as if someone were waiting impatiently.

Materialists couldn't stand immediate losses. Besides, creatures always have the instinct to avoid danger. The atmosphere was so strange. Lin Yan grabbed the car keys from his pocket and rushed out of the house without looking back.

The rain fell harder and faster, and the normally bustling three-ring road was empty. There was only the heavy rain curtains and thick fog. Lin Yan turned on his headlights lights all the way. He hoped to find an exit that was bustling with life and filled with a large crowd. In one night, his normal life was completely messed up. There was no signal from his cell phone and no signal from the radio. He seemed to be isolated in a corner of the world and was just driving around endlessly.

Lin Yan glanced at the fuel gauge. He was running out of fuel as he went further down the road, but he had not found the exit of the overpass. He was a native to this country and yet he was trapped in the city that he had been living in for 22 years. Just saying it was absurd enough to make anyone laugh.

The low-beam light couldn't illuminate the road very far. Under the warm yellow light, only the dense lines of rain could be seen falling diagonally, washing down his windshield. There was a wide road in front of him, turn after turn. There were no people, no cars, and even the sound of the GPS reporting how many kilometres were left was inaudible and his speed on the speedometer was barely visible. Lin Yan looked straight ahead, for fear of missing any fork in the road.

After travelling on the highway for nearly three hours, Lin Yan finally began to panic after passing the IKEA billboard multiple times over.

A deep thought came to mind.

The ghost was making him go around in circles.

The arrow on his fuel gauge was almost at 'empty'. Lin Yan slowed down. He thought he couldn't keep driving forward. Obviously, there was a force trying to stop him. What he should do is to sort out his thoughts and find a solution instead of continuing to drive around aimlessly. He didn't dare think about what would happen if he ran out of fuel.

Lin Yan pulled the car over, leaving only his hazard lights on, then sat in the car and began to think about what happened at night.

Power outages, computers that suddenly freaked out, strange reflections.

The first thing that came to mind was that someone was playing a prank, but he immediately denied it. If it was just the problem with his computer, he might still suspect the unreliable programmer Yin Zhou, but the knocking on the window, preventing him from getting off the highway, and blocking his mobile and radio signals; none of that was this guy's style. Lin Yan searched his mind for a long time to find a candidate that might want to scare a friend like this, but he came up with nothing.

He himself was a very good person. He was a good student from elementary straight through his master's. Apart from skipping classes to play Warcraft, and handing notes to his classmates during an exam, he basically had no blips on his record. He has never even played any tricks on girls, let alone his immediate friend group. Even if someone wanted to play a prank on someone as revenge, that wasn't how Lin Yan handled things.

Lin Yan was a person who, even when he ate toothpaste and cookies on April Fool's Day, still believed that he was just eating something mint-flavoured. To understand what was going on, Lin Yan could only find the solution by going through his process of elimination. By the time he can go through his hilariously incompetent system of thinking, he has probably already vomited up three litres of blood.

Lin Yan rubbed his temples and thought hard. Someone was threatening him in an inexplicable way, or was outright declaring war.

Lin Yan turned on the cell phone's calendar and entered the date of the first day of the Wushan month. The small square immediately jumped to the corresponding date: July 15 and the gates of hell would be wide open.

Something is wrong, Lin Yan thought.

When he looked up again, there was suddenly something that hadn't been there before that appeared in front of his car.

A figure stood near the side of the road as the heavy rain poured down. The figure didn't seem to notice Lin Yan was there, neither holding an umbrella nor wearing a raincoat, quietly standing with his head held down under the dim street lamp. The fog everywhere made Lin Yan unable to see his appearance. He could only make out that it was tall and he was wearing weird, oversized clothes. The caring Lin Yan wanted to offer the figure a ride. Even though he can't really protect himself right now, but he can at least provide some shelter from the rain.

An empty highway, rainy night, a strange individual on the side of the road, this unfortunate picture seemed suspicious at first, but Lin Yan saw something a little more depressing.

The figure seemed. . . very lonely, like waiting for a resolution that will never come.

Lin Yan re-started the car after making sure all the doors were locked, and slowly slid forward along the roadside, thinking that after being trapped in this endless loop for so long anyway, it was more useful to see if this person might be able to help him break the cycle.

When he was less than ten metres away from the person, Lin Yan suddenly froze as though a gong went off beside his ear. He finally realized why he felt there was something wrong with this figure. This person had no shadow.

The streetlamp was casting light on this person, but there was no shadow at his feet. The place where the shadow should have been was just the shape of the streetlamp reflected in the puddle, which was shaken by the continuously falling rain, rippling and disturbing the surface of the water.

Lin Yan knew what he had encountered almost instantly.

He was covered in a cold sweat, he couldn't keep a grip on the steering wheel because of his clammy palms. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, not caring how much fuel he had left. He didn't even care if there was any road ahead, he just knew subconsciously that he had to get away.

40km, 60km, 80km, 90km. . .

Suddenly a car sped out in front of him. Lin Yan was stunned, and instinctively stepped on the brakes and jerked the steering wheel to the left!

"Squeel--" After the extremely sharp and piercing sound, the front bumper Lin Yan's Audi A4 was just a few centimetres away from the Buick's back bumper as he brushed past it. Immediately after, Lin Yan drove into the bushes and the car shook before getting stuck. After it stopped shaking, the windshield was covered with holly leaves.

The car had almost been totalled.

Lin Yan lay on the steering wheel, panting heavily, his whole body was frozen.

"Knockknockknock." Something harshly knocked against the car window

Lin Yan jumped nervously and stared at the glass in horror. When he could see the face of a man, he let out a long sigh, and then rolled down the car window.

"Who the hell taught you how to drive? If you were so desperate to die, just tell me and I'll beat you to death!"

A series of harsh curses about his ancestors gave Lin Yan a sense of joy, bringing him back to reality. He almost rushed out and hugged the Buick driver.

"No. . . I'm sorry, I've been on this highway for three hours. I just found my way. I was a little excited, sorry, sorry."

Lin Yan wasn't paying attention to what the other driver said, and couldn't help smiling bitterly since the driver must really consider him an idiot.

The Buick driver stared at Lin Yan for a while, then suddenly stopped the curse, and muttered, "You look like you've seen a ghost." He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to Lin Yan: "Did you come across something weird? Smoke a cigarette to calm your nerves. You should bring out a protection charm next time. We all have strange experiences at night every now and again."

Lin Yan got out of the car, and the driver lit the cigarette for Lin Yan. The two stood side by side on the roadside. Strangely, cars began whizzing by on the road. There were rows of shops and tall buildings lit up on both sides of the street where there was originally only fog and dark shadows. Even the rain from earlier had stopped.

Lin Yan took a puff of cigarettes and calmed down, and said in surprise: "Have we met before?"

The driver smiled indifferently: "It often happens, especially in places with a lot of accidents. The more deadly the accident, the more evil will be left behind."

Lin Yan nodded. He didn't know how much his materialistic worldview changed from this information.

After sending the driver away, Lin Yan whipped the sweat off his forehead and took out his phone to check the time. The screen showed two text messages and three missed calls, one every half an hour on average within the past two hours. Lin Yan opened his settings; the phone wasn't muted, the volume wasn't very loud but it was enough from him to hear it. It confirmed that the signal had been blocked this whole time.

Message 1: "Will you come out for a drink? The regular place."

Message 2: "What are you doing? Answer the phone!"

Both the sender and the caller were Yin Zhou.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #yaoi novel #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #danmei novel

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

what's beyond compare, prologue

also on AO3

---

The Avatar was not the only spirit that reincarnated. Many spirits had their own cycles, human one life and nature the next several turns, if they decided to try again at all. Coming back to the mortal world as a human took energy that, for any normal spirit, would take several lives to regenerate. Those that could be human time and time again were the strongest of spirits, respected far and wide, often living to be quiet ancient and powerful.

Two of these were the spirits of Oma and Shu.

They were different in that they rarely reincarnated, but always came back to mortal life as humans. Always in times of strife; always meant to change the world.

Shu did not always die, but it was a common, tragic end, a blow Oma would never recover from, even after their mortal lives ended. These scars were buried deeply, carried from one life to the next. Shu’s fate was to be the catalyst; Oma’s to destroy and rebuild. Each reunion in the spirit world was teary-eyed and frantic—they weren’t meant to be apart. And though they were often separated in the mortal world, the spirit plane was different. They were together, and they did not leave the other’s side for anything except their next lives.

The day the young Air Avatar ran away, face first into a storm of destiny, the spirit world was quiet, its breath held. Oma and Shu did not feel the pull they so rarely did, and stayed together in their sunny meadow, unaware of what was to come.

One moment, all was normal, the peace shuddering but still staying strong. Then, with both all too little and all too much warning, there was swiftly an influx of spirits, a flood which overwhelmed nature itself as it dragged on and on. The sun flickered and wavered; the moon appeared in the sky much too early; the ocean stopped turning.

The air nomads, terrified and clinging to each other as they wouldn’t have in life, were sure that the mighty spirits were angry. Those that knew—that accepted they had passed on, and that there was a little boy somewhere with the weight of the world falling upon his shoulders—were more interested in finding the Avatar. A monk called Gyatso ran amongst his people, his heart breaking all over again at the number of children he saw. Every time he turned a boy around and saw one he knew—but not the one he was looking for—it thudded in his chest; if he were alive, it would hurt, how harshly it beat.

Suddenly the world shone bright, bloody red. Agni faded back into his normal shine, and Tui went back to silently and invisibly (for now) watching. La was brought to shore once again. The Nomads could not relax, even as relief swept through parts of the crowd. The calm was just as vast and unknowable as the chaos. Children, scared, huddled together. Couples clung to each other, and others stood back to back, sure there would be more displays of divine—rage? Grief? They weren’t to know.

In the midst of this, another soul joined the masses. They were unlike the others, who were young and hale, not yet ready to be back to this place—they were ancient and incomprehensible. Yet, at the same time, diminished; scarred. There were spots on their body that flickered in and out of sight, and others which held strong and visible.

“The Avatar,” Gyatso knew. He knew the boy, and he knew this being on some level, able to recognize that understated power anywhere. But the spirit of the Avatar did not live in the Spirit World, nor did it ever stay after its life was ended.

The pale eyes of this new spirit flickered to Gyatso. “He lives,” they said, voice a pained rasp. There was not supposed to be pain here, but supposed-to’s never withstood reality. “The boy lives.”

But in what condition, Gyatso didn’t dare ask. He believed he knew, and the truth was too much for him, in that moment. He bowed to the Avatar, the half-soul, and walked away with his heart in his throat.

For some time, there was inescapable tension hanging in the air of the spirit world.

Some of the Air Nomads moved on, becoming plants and animals, desperate to be home again however they could be. Others haunted their old temples with an earnestness that brought tears to the eyes of those that wandered, who brought back devastating news of war. More powerful spirits amongst the Nomads returned to life as humans, drawing on the energy they had left over from their too-short previous lives, and found each other again.

There weren’t many air benders still living, after the genocide, but those that did created small groups, put down roots and lived inconspicuous lives where no one but their families ever knew they could bend.

The severed soul moved about from one place to the next, never quite staying anywhere for long. They could not see where they were going, but felt tugs on their very faint heartstrings that left them going one way or the other. They were always so cold, and so alone, hands out not to find their way, but to find their balance. Their other half.

Every spot they were brought to was empty, the missing pieces of their very being nowhere to be found.

Oma and Shu stayed in their meadow. It was safe there, secluded and favored by Agni, who kept a pocket of light forever shining for them. It was the half-spirit that alerted them something was going on in the mortal world. They visited them frequently, searching for something they could not give.

“I feel you,” they said, a hand fisted over their thin chest. “I feel that. Don’t you feel it too?”

Oma and Shu only knew of one pull such as that. The call back to the mortal world. But it did not call them to other spirits, and never each other until the new life had already begun.

“Come,” said Shu kindly, reaching out a gentle hand. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

“It’s very nice here,” said Oma. They never let outsiders enter their sanctuary, but ancient recognized ancient, and Oma was sure no half-soul could hurt Shu. Not there, not under Agni’s careful and giving eye. “We shall meditate and see what we find.”

Reluctantly, the half-soul joined them on the soft grass. As one, all three spirits closed their eyes and envisioned their futures.

The half-soul saw a face. Shrouded in icy blue, the features were difficult to make sense of. But the feelings attached were that of complete and utter rightness, belonging, matched. They could feel even from so different a plane that this soul was halved, too.

Oma saw lightning. There were no other features to this vision, just a terrible crack cutting through the air and a bolt aimed by no one, heading nowhere. A familiar, awful fear grew in Oma’s chest. It wasn’t headed nowhere, they knew. It was headed for Shu.

Shu saw something much different. They saw the Fire Nation. There was a crowd below them, the features blurry, the accompanying shouts muffled. But they knew the feeling of the people, the joy, the acceptance. An invisible hand took hold of Shu’s, and peace filled their very being as they realized they were right where they needed to be. Alive, and with Oma.

Alone, the half-soul stumbled away. No other spirit dared to harm them, for the first and only time one tried, the power of the Avatar reacted harshly, forcing the attacker away. But the half-soul didn’t feel safe—they felt the holes where their other half should have been very keenly.

This just wouldn’t do, they came to realize. They could not be weak here, especially considering the numbers of Fire Nation soldiers who were passing every day now.

Vowing to be stronger, the half-soul found a spot that was blessed by Tui. It was dark and blessedly quiet except for the ever-present tugging in their chest. They closed their eyes against the blurry nothingness they always saw, and looked inside of themself instead.

Piece by piece, over nearly a hundred years, they built up their empty spots as much as they could. They would always have those spots, the shadows of aching loss lingering, but they made themself whole.

Still, the tugging never left.

Oma was not ready when the pull to the mortal world came once again. They never were—the pain of knowing what was to come was nearly as bad as having to leave Shu behind. They would be separated. They would have to find each other. They would have to change the world, and Shu would almost surely be killed for all their efforts.

Shu held their face in their hands. Eyes meeting, Shu pressed a kiss to their lips and said softly, “We will be together again, my love. One way or another. This time will be different.”

Oma didn’t want to cry, but it was so difficult. Forcing their posture straight, they gave Shu one last smile. Forced though it may have been, they both knew it was best to leave on a happy note, even if it was false.

Then, each step feeling like it was fated, Oma returned to the world of mortals.

#zutara #zutara fic #my writing #i don't know how tagging works anymore so im just gonnaaa #atla #zuko #katara

[rengonemad]

Marked by Lightning

This is for @lazarusii over at the Umino Hours Discord, for the 90-minute Halloween Exchange! I hope you like it! >.<

Pairing: KakaIru Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2.2k Tags: Romance, Japanese Mythology, Alternate Universe, Uh... mild.... spookiness?? Monsters, I don’t know

At the age of ten, Iruka had spent nearly as much time in the forests of Konoha as he had his own home. He hated sitting still, being confined. He spent hours stripping back and peeling tinder, then more hours attempting to light it with the only fire seal he knew. He practiced with his mother’s shuriken on the trees behind their house and climbed barefoot to retrieve them, rough bark scraping against the soles of his feet, forming calluses and scrapes that his father would pour medicinal cleanser over, stinging far worse than the wound itself. 

It never stopped Iruka from going out again. 

Sometimes, he went further than he should have.

At a certain point, the woods north-east of Konoha’s walls shifted, from soft conifers into looming evergreens and beeches that had never been cleared by man’s hand. They grew so thick around that Iruka didn’t think five of him would be able to quite reach around the bases. On one fallen trunk, he counted over a hundred rings before losing his place. 

There was another difference in the trees outside of Konoha: 

Some of them were scarred. 

Iruka had seen pine trees damaged by hurricanes before. He had seen branches stripped thin of leaves and twigs, broken limbs dangling for a few days before crashing down to the earth.

These scars were different. 

They ran lengthwise down the tree’s trunks, splitting through the bark and inches into the wood. Some of the scars were blackened—Iruka imagined they were darkened by the sun in the same way that his own scar had been—but others were a dull crimson, a shade like blood or lava peering through a crevasse. When he was ten, Iruka snuck his fingers inside one, wiggling until he could reach the innards. 

They burned. 

Iruka hissed and jerked back, scraping his knuckles raw against the bark. It was barely a sting in comparison to the blisters morphing his fingerprints. They throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

He crouched to the ground, ripping up a piece of moss and pressing it to the overheated skin. It did little to soothe the ache, but he clutched it tight his entire walk home. He didn’t stop walking, even as the sun set and he could barely see anything but his own feet and the occasional, glowing embers within massive oaks. 

There were trees marked in different ways, too—ones whose limbs had exploded, bark splaying like water frozen from a hose. A few, a very few, were cleaved in half. Each side dipped, bowing towards the ground, until their stumps rotted and gravity dragged them down at last. 

Those trees never survived.

Iruka’s father said that the others, the red ones, had been struck by lightning. He told Iruka that eventually the embers would cool into ash and the trees would grow around the wound, sealing their dead cells into themselves to use as nourishment for what still lived.

That, or they rotted into mulch. 

“How long do they stay hot after a storm?” 

His father hesitated. He paused in sharpening his kunai, looking out the window unseeingly, a deep furrow between his brows. “I’m not sure. A day, perhaps.” 

Iruka bit his lip rather than argue, but he knew that wasn’t true; no storm clouds had darkened Konoha’s skies for the last two weeks.

 Four days later, something scorched the trees again. Iruka didn’t touch them that time, but he flexed his healing hand, felt the taut pull of new skin, and wondered. 

By the time Iruka heard about the Raijū, his parents were no longer alive for him to ask. 

It was Anko who first described it to him: a huge wolf, with silver fur that gleamed blue with the shroud of living lightning that surrounded it. She said she heard it howl the night before the Kyuubi attack. Her father had called it the Raijū, told her to never go outside during a thunderstorm and to always sleep on her belly on dark nights. 

She said that the trees weren’t struck by lightning, but scratched by the Raijū’s claws.

Iruka didn’t know about any of that—but he sat outside during the next storm, all the same, curling up under the branches of an evergreen. A rivulet of rain water trickled down from the matte leaves, onto the crown of Iruka’s head. He shivered from his scalp to his toes, drawing his legs in tight as mud began to soak into his pants. 

Eventually, he must have fallen asleep. 

When he awoke, dawn was approaching, and electric static lingered in the air. 

He had dreamt of a thousand chirping birds, and an eye as dark as the midnight sky. 

He didn’t try to meet the Raijū again.

It had been over a decade since Iruka had last been caught out in a thunderstorm. It wasn’t a nostalgic experience. Instead of huddling into a ball and waiting for lightning to strike, he was running for home. Rain beat the ground around him, but his heartbeat drowned out the sound. His sandals skidded on the slick moss that coated the trees. The chakra he channeled to the souls of his feet kept him from sliding him off, giving him the traction necessary to propel himself forward again. 

The storm must have been travelling from Konoha: Iruka hadn’t seen a single cloud when he set back towards home. He would have stayed in town if he had, maybe gotten a cheap room at the local hot spring. As much as Iruka hated to admit it, Naruto leaving to train with Jiraiya had it’s good points—namely, that Iruka was no longer spending a fifth of his paychecks on ramen each week.

Now, it was too late to go back. He couldn’t outrun the storm, and he was just barely closer to Konoha than his origin. His best bet was to power through it, coming out on the other side soaked, but with less time in the forest and storm than if he tried to find shelter and failed.

He had never been scared of lightning.

It was a fine plan—until he felt at least a dozen chakra signatures pop to life in the east. 

They were all grouped together, like a conglomerate of shinobi had been scooped up and teleported to the soggiest corner of the Land of Fire. Or, like a bunch of shinobi had been concealing their presences and then swooped in for an ambush. 

That one was slightly more likely. 

Iruka slowed to a halt, closing his eyes and focusing on the distance between them. He had a decent chance of getting away unnoticed if he curved directly west. It was the logical choice: his likelihood of taking on a dozen enemies and surviving was too close to nil for comfort, and he couldn’t bet on the majority of them being Konoha shinobi. 

However… given the territory, their proximity to home—there almost certainly was a few comrades among them. If they were running the ambush then Iruka could make things far worse by attempting to interfere in a battle strategy of which he had no part. 

But if they were overpowered—or if they were the victims—

There was really no choice at all.

Cloaking his chakra as best he could, Iruka dropped to lower branches and finally to the forest floor. A giant clap of thunder sounded and a stunning white bolt lit up the sky, casting the canopy in sharp relief. The trunks and leaves this low down hid Iruka in enough shadow that it was his best bet for making it to the scuffle unannounced.

He was only a few hundred yards away, throat tight and muscle tensed, when he felt the pinpoints of chakra begin to flicker.

One by one, they were snuffed out.

Within thirty seconds, only one remained.

Iruka had already unlatched his kunai’s holster. His right hand hovered by it. A cold chill ran from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. 

This time, it wasn’t due to the rain.

The air felt charged, the atmosphere crackling around him and bursting in his eardrums like static. It was so loud, so unnerving, so intense—that he hardly noticed the chakra signature move towards him.

Then, he noticed. 

He noticed, because just through the copse of trees, in a small clearing, moonlight filtered through the trees and cast its light on silver fur and blue lightning. 

For a moment, Iruka couldn’t breathe. His fingers convulsed around the hilt of his kunai, gripping it tightly enough that his knuckles cracked, but he could move nothing else. The giant wolf stared back at him, one eye of crimson and another darker than midnight. 

Iruka blinked, and the wolf was gone.

 The silver and crimson and darkness all remained. 

Kakashi’s hair was drenched by the rain, plastered to his face and neck, but Iruka thought he could see bright red washing away with the water. It soaked into his flak vest, turning the olive green to rust. His normal gloves were reduced to tattered strips of cloth dripping from his wrists, metal guards gone. Long, thick fingernails drew from the nail beds like claws.

Iruka nearly laughed hysterically as he thought, “maybe that’s why he only wears fingerless.” 

Fortunately, the last difference from the Kakashi that Iruka liked to think he knew… it was enough to cut off any potential humor at the jugular.

The mask was gone. 

The light stubble over his chin would have been invisible if not for the streak of blood that oozed from a slit across one high cheekbone, painting the follicles crimson. Torn fabric bunched underneath Kakashi’s angular jaw, and a small blemish marked just below the corner of thin lips.

Behind the lips, which were slightly parted—perhaps saying something that couldn’t force its way into Iruka’s fogged mind—were sharp, prominent canines, hand-crafted as if by a master, borne to rend flesh and breach vulnerable arteries. 

Blood stained each fang. 

The storm raged on. Water clumped Iruka’s eyelashes and trickled into his eyes. He blinked it away, but the scene before him didn’t change.

Now, he knew that the scents of salt and ozone, the charge that set even damp hairs on end and broke out gooseflesh along Iruka’s arms—they weren’t the storm. 

The Raijū was real. 

Kakashi took a step forward. 

Iruka couldn’t move. His body was frozen, muscles locked as if in rigor mortis. He would have thought it was the power of the Sharingan if not for the fact that it was closed. The eyelid over it was split down the center, large gash extending from his brow to his cheek. It still glowed an angry shade, even after how many years it had been rumored to exist. 

Iruka imagined it as a strike of lightning—burning embers in a dying tree.

Kakashi’s expression was no more readable without the mask, or perhaps the differences merely distracted from any emotion that might have been displayed. Iruka could tell there was something, burning within his core, swirling in a dark iris, but he couldn’t name it. It was a taste, on the tip of his tongue and sliding down his throat to settle in his stomach. 

Iruka swallowed it all, drinking in every inch of Kakashi’s features even as the man—wolf—demon—approached. Carefully, steadily. 

Kakashi reached him. He raised a hand. It hovered over Iruka’s collarbone, curved talons inches from his throat and the pulse that pounded in it. 

Iruka remembered those hands. 

He remembered that hand brushing his at the mission desk, remembered the bit of static that always seemed to jump between them. He remembered watching those fingers as they grasped a lurid orange cover. He remembered watching them curl around a glass, condensation dripping down them, and remembered wishing it was Iruka who felt their touch instead.

Now, if Kakashi touched him—he felt as though he would be seared to the bone, with a long red scar that would spell his death or his future. Either way, Kakashi could carve through Iruka and hollow his insides, replacing them with molten heat that would soon burn to ash. 

"I didn't take you for the type to freeze in fear, Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi murmured. 

Slowly, Iruka dragged his gaze from the lethal claw, from ivory canines. He met Kakashi’s stare. He had to swallow several times before he could find his voice, rough as though he’d been inhaling smoke. "I'm not."

Kakashi’s features barely shifted. There was no difference that Iruka could discern; perhaps it was only the flash of lightning illuminating Kakashi in stark white which made the ghostly apparition of the wolf flicker in Iruka’s vision once more. Perhaps it was Iruka’s own reflection which made Kakashi’s eye seem guarded—as if Iruka were the one readying to spring an attack.

As if Iruka had the power to do damage if he did. 

"Then why are you still here?"

Over Kakashi’s shoulder, Iruka could see an ancient oak, nearly split in two. Its bark peeled from the superheated spot as if it could retract from the claw which had seared it. 

Iruka remembered years of subtle touches to skin and cloth, moments that Iruka would have never known existed if they hadn’t made his blood sing and his mind fill with static. Electricity. Lightning.

Iruka remembered a thousand birds and a dark eye—a dream that had always been real. 

“I’m about to find out.”

Iruka leaned forward. Their lips met at the same moment that Kakashi’s palm—claws and all—met Iruka’s throat.

#umino hours exchange #halloween #90-minute fic #Fanfiction #KakaIru #Fantasy #Fantasy AU #Japanese Mythology #RenGoneMad #Lazarusii #the umino hours discord server

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 30

Calix and Circe transported them to Auradon Prep where the bright light enemated from the balcony where only two years ago, Ben had made his proclamation that changed everything. Guards were unconscious on the ground and others were running towards the villages, away from the sword, and the quartet that Jordan could see were watching the chaos. Wait there wasn’t a quartet? There were five. Morgana had joined them.

Ben was outside as well with FG, Mal, Jane, Carlos, Evie and Lonnie, and the young king was frantically talking to the guard who was stammering so hard he wasn’t making any sense.

“Ma-Maleficent is back. The dragon is here! She torched a house. We got it out in time but she put a house on fire! We all have to go right away!” And the guard ran from his king’s side, barking orders and running backwards till he tripped over a stone.

“I’ll go stop her,” Mal volunteered with Evie nodding at her side. “I’ll help too,” Celia popped up with several of Uma’s crew members that Jordan never bothered to learn their names.

Ben looked frazzled but his voice was anything but. “Mal, you, Evie, Celia and FG go find your mother. The guard said she was heading toward Aurora’s castle.”

“Jay, Uma, um Jay’s relative I’m guessing, and Jordan, you can go to Jafar. I’m not sure where he is but Circe can transport you there.” “Lonnie, Aziz, Cosette, Circe, Carlos and I will go against Nerissa and Lady Caine. They went to my parent’s home. Now go go go!”

Jordan allowed Aziz to wish her group to transport to Jafar who apparently hadn’t gotten very far as he was striding through the woods of Charmingburg.

And thanks to magic’s unsubtlty, Jafar noticed them all immediately when they fell in a circle around him.

Though he was surrounded, Jafar merely cackled, training his eyes on his son.

“Ssssson, I wasssss wondering when you’d arrive,” Jafar hissed, his snake tongue flicking in and out.

The black sheen of his robe turned dull, stretching longer and longer as his legs disappeared into a reptilian coil of a snake tail.

Jafar’s eyes turned red, his nose flattened disappearing into a cobra snout and his turban fell apart to reveal his flaring hood.

And just like in the stories, he was no average snake, but one as large as a dragon. His tail boomed as he slapped it down, causing them all to fall to their knees.

“You were ssssuch a disssaapointment. You weren’t ssssnakey enough like me.” Jafar crowed, before his human speech was lost entirely and his eyes lost their red. They turned black as his gleaming scales, and he rose to the height of the trees.

It was possible the cobra senses would overwhelm Jafar’s human brain, and they could try to catch it like they would a regular one but Jordan had some doubts. This cobra was intently staring at Jay, his head following Jay’s movements when the teen swayed to the left or right.

Jafar was silent, a sign that he was waiting to strike, and from the way Jay balanced on the balls of his feet, it was clear he knew it too.

But since Jafar was focused Jay…

Uma made a point to make eye contact with each of them, tilting her head to the snake and tapping at the sword on her sheath, indicating they should jump on him while he was distracted.

She whistled, signalling for them to jump but that only brought Jafar’s attention to them. Since snakes did not have good eyesight, he turned to face Jade instead of Uma who emitted the sound, but that was distraction enough for Jay.

He clambered up a tree and jumped onto Jafar’s hood, riding the cobra like a rodeo clown, he held on with one hand while punching him with the other. The cobra thrashed and they took their chance to hit it. Uma pounded against the torso with her sword even though it barely made a dent. No results but Jafar tried to coil away while bucking his head to remove Jay.

Jade began to clamber up Jafar’s back too, acting as another annoying pest for the snake to try to thrash around and get rid of.

And Jordan stood there, wishing that her powers allowed her to attack other humans instead of being forced to wait for someone to wish her to do so.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t change the environment a little.

She concentrated, imagining the taste of the gritty particles sand caught in her mouth, the painful pricks of never-ending assult of a sandstorm swirling around, and she visualized it to reality. She aimed the mini sandstorm to Jafar’s eyes, blinding him.

The snake flailed hitting a tree, and falling to his side. Several trees fell around them and Jordan spotted Uma in the line of one.

“Watch out!” She screamed, the urgency giving wings to her feat as she shoved the blue-braided girl out of the way. The splintered wood and green shubbery showering them with spears to the arms and face. A little rough but not as bad as the sound of a sickening crunch would have been.

Jay was standing on the ground now as the cobra began to shrink in size for no apparent reason. Jordan doubted a punch would be enough to magic out. But she sensed a change in the air.

The air crackled with electricity even though there was no lightning in the sky. The air felt thin, and she could see from the grimaces on Jade and Uma’s faces that it was affecting them though they tried not to show it.

Jafar was changing back to a human, but not the slender viziar whose luxurious robes overcompensated his lank figure. He was squant and bot-bellied dressed in pajamas. The one feather in his turban was frayed. Jafar looked down at himself, scraping out the dulled ruby in his turban to shake it angrily, “What happened to me!? My powers!”

Jay stared at him, barely restrained anger and disappointment were evident in his voice, “Nothing happened to you. This is how you always were. You have no power or skills of your own. You are lazy and selfish. The only power you had came from others like genies and your staff, and me doing all the work for you. And you lost all of it because you were always greedy for more. I’m not snakey like you, and that makes me better than you would ever be with all the power in the world.”

Jafar looked stunned, not even noticing Uma hauling him up to his feet and tying his hands behind his back with her belt, “But Morgana said… Jay?”

Jay began walking to the palace, refusing you to look behind him at the sad sack of a villain. “You are such a disappointment, Dad.”

They walked in silence back to Auradon Prep, Uma wasn’t even bothering to interrogate Jafar what he meant about Morgana. The mood was too somber for that as was the tension radiating off Jay who kept walking stiffily forward.

They arrived at the entrance where the others with similarly defeated and sluggish looking Maleficent, Lady Caine and Nerissa.

Uma handed Jafar over to FG who tied the four villains together with another magical bundle of pumpkin vines which she, Jane, Carlos and Evie took to the dungeon carriage with Harry, Gil and Cosette acting as the muscle in case the villains tried to do anything.

The remaining people looked up at the five on the balcony who seemed to be in a discussion of some sort.

“So we’re all in agreement that they’re behind this,” Mal nodded toward the mini Coven.

“Jafar said something about Morgana in relation to his powers.” Uma informed.

“Lady Caine mentioned something about how this is Morgana’s and her welp’s fault. I knew Morgaine was behind this.” Ben growled, some of his inner beastly side emerging though he cleared his throat and seemed to clamp it down.

At that moment, as if summoned by their discussion, Morgana, Morgaine, Kyro and Victoria appeared beside them.

“Wow, that was-that was bad but good thing my mother double crossed those bad guys by pretending to be on their side.” Morgaine said in a overly gushing as if she said it movingly enough, it would make her sound sincere.

Morgana smiled at her daughter’s compliment, undaunted by the unbelieving glares of the group looking at her. “That’s right. I was double crossing the Coven, and Lady Caine here. I knew about their plan to invade Auradon so I put myself in their good graces, and when these four managed to escape, I gave them this power jewel,” She plucked a ruby from Jafar’s turban, “It strengthens their magic, but gives me the control to shut it off. You’re welcome.”

Ben just stared. Jordan was surprised by how blank he looked like he just went from numb from the audacity of this women to lie so bluntly to their faces and present herself as a hero.

Luckily, Mal and Uma had no problem tearing down Morgana’s words.

“Uh yeah, no thank you. You’re going to join them in the Isle where you belong.” Mal cried.

“You’re no hero. You put the Isle and Auradon in danger for your own selfish wants.” Uma said.

“We’re trying to save Auradon, we’re trying to close the barrier. Alexandria is up there, trying to figure it out right now,” Victoria insisted.

“The glowy white beam you created says otherwise,” Mal retorted.

While the three teens looked away, Kyro in particular was pouting, Morgana remained calm.

Nonchalantly, as if they were talking about the weather she said, “We didn’t plan for it all to come this. But if the king won’t accept us as heroes and agree to our demands… we should get a new king.”

Morgana and Morgaine’s hands began to glow the mystical blue glow that was unique to Camelot’s sorcerers.

Kyro shrank to his normal fairy size, and Victoria unsheathed her own sword, clearly taken from one of the Royal Guard.

Morgana striked first, sending a blue ball of power at Ben’s heart which Circe blocked with a magical shield.

The threat seemed to snap everyone out of their shock.

Kyro buzzed around Ben, and Mal who tried to catch him with their hands but were pushed away by the shock of Kyro blowing flames at them. The fay was the son of a dragon after all. Mal transformed into a dragon herself to combat his flames with her much larger green. Ben tried to hold her back, “No, Mal, he’s a fairy, you’ll crisp him! And guys, careful with Victoria she is under mind control.”

“I’ll try. No promises.” Jay grunted as he pressed his back against his cousin as he sparred with Victoria who had been training for her dream goal to be a royal guard for ten years compared to Jay’s year of R.O.A.R. swordfighting.

He switched off with Jade who threw a sword to Lala who covered her back with Aziz, surrounding Victoria in a four way sword fight.

As Circe and Morgana faced off, Calix threw magic spell after magic spell at Morgaine, batting lines about his “poor broken heart” and how dare she not mention that she was an evil sorceress while they were sleeping together. The irrelevant comments clearly annoyed the teenage sorcereress who was trying to keep up her serious bad girl sorcerer vibe.

Jordan was about to jump in to help with Kyro when lighting cracked above them. Winds that wre blowing steadily suddenly turned rough,disturbing the fight with flyaway banners and broken tree branches. A storm was swirling above them and it was gaining the ferocity of a hurricane.

Jordan looked to Uma who didn’t have a specific sparring partner either and went to her, “We need to get to the balcony, it’s the source of the magic, come on.”

They burst through the halls where students were confusedly peeking out to see what was going on outside but the two ignored. They ran through Ben’s office to window but it was blocked by a magic barrier.

Uma was about to try to fight against it with her sword but Jordan placed a hand on her arm, “I can handle this. Phenomenal cosmic powers after all.”

She closed her eyes and pushed, feeling the strength of a brick and iron wall pushing against her magic but she kept going. She felt the solid barrier pressing against her whole body, giving her a migraine as she pushed forward. Pushed as if she was trying to blend into the wall. Pushed until she heard the crack.

She nearly fell over as the magic shield fell, and the two girls cautiously stepped onto the balcony.

But Alexandria wasn’t there.

Leaves swirled around, but there was no sign of the mermaid princess. Just a chalice filled with blood and the levitating sword of Camelot, glowing and pointing at the Isle where more clouds gathered and darkened.

Uma tried to lift it, muscles straining and cheeks puffing but it wouldn’t budge.

Only the one true king or powerful magic could move it.

Jordan tried her hand, but one touch of the iron burnt her palms and burned through her veins. Gasping she fell to the floor, shaking from the pain of it.

They were good, the sword must be connected to the Mini Coven if the blood chalice indicated anything.

Uma looked and dumped the chalice on the ground, waiting for the spilt blood to affect the sword somehow but it continued levitating.

Jordan stared, though the wind was blurring her eyesight, and patted her hands on her pants in an effort to cool the burns, but nothing came to her mind.

Allah, she wished they could get the sword to move itself. Or wish that the mini Coven would just be defeated or….

And just like Celia’s plan to play the Coven off one another, the idea was simple but obvious.

“You have to make a wish,” Jordan yelled over the blowing wind, spitting out the hair that whipped into her mouth and muffled her words.

“What?” Uma yelled, trying to cover her ears and lean closer to hear.

“Wish! Wish me to transfer the power, or get rid of the sword or anything!” Jordan yelled again, pointing at the sword than at the lamp in her hands that was threatening to get swept up in the wind.

Uma’s eyes widened as she took in Jordan’s words and previously Jordan would have seen a wicked gleam in them. But she didn’t. Maybe it was there, maybe it wasn’t, but she was trying to trust people’s best intentions. And if Uma had proven anything, she was a woman of her word.

Uma grasped the lamp, and rubbed, and Jordan felt the connecting touch of rubbing hands on her wrist. The tingle filled her as Uma’s wish got lost in the wind.

The sword disappeared in a poof of pink smoke. Lightning crackled and the barrier returned in a bowl of gleaming light. Rising back over the Isle.

Another poof of smoke and a team trident appeared in Uma’s hands, dripping with salt water and tangled with kelp but the smile that glowed on Uma’s face almost made up for the salty smell.

Uma lifted her mighty weapon up and the storm began to funnel, the clouds and lighting began to twist and shape into a funnel right into Uma’s trident.

For everyone knew, tridents were descended of Poisidon. God of sea and storms.

The winds ceased and moonlight glowed from the sky.

And Uma beamed in triumph.

That smile, for the first time, made Jordan glad she granted a wish. It was a selfless one but the pure joy that shined from her made Jordan happy with her power. That she could bring happiness to people without it being at the expense of herself.

Thinking about her powers this way, she could accept it. If she gave her wishes to certain people, she could bring some good to the world. A little bit of happiness or wonderment, giving something that someone longed desired but did not believe to exist. Much like genies themselves.

Maybe she wouldn’t be following the fate of so many djinn before her. Not if she chose who to give wishes to, she would finally be in control, the control she always felt she lacked as a slave to her lamp. She wouldn’t be degraded, not if she reclaimed this for herself.

Control and freedom of choice. The two greatest drugs to a genie.

Jordan began to beam herself, her smile fueled by relief and certainty that things would turn out alright, reflecting Uma’s as she made her last wish.

“I wish to be where Alexandria is.”

A swirl of smoke and sparkle and they were gone.

And rather ungracefully deposited at Alexandria’s feet.

Alexandria was in the museum, sneaking through the exhibit of a replica of Snow White’s house, tear stained and clutching Triton’s trident.

“Alexandria,” Jordan called, remembering Ben’s words, “It’s okay. It’s okay, we closed down the barrier, and Morgana will be hauled away. Whatever control she has over you is going to be over. Just come here and we’ll help.” “It’s over?” Alexandria questioned, inching backwards, “It’s- Morgana’s captured? Wait Ben won?”

The girl turned even paler if that was possible, but her dark brown framing her white face made her look like Snow White herself surrounded by the fake forest background.

“Yes, it’s fine. The heroes won.” Jordan said softly, holding out her hand as if Alexandria was a nervous tiger and she was trying to win her trust.

Uma stepped forward, putting her trident but did not set it down, “You’re not under Morgana’s control are you? This- this invasion was an idea you helped with.” “No, that’s impos-” Jordan was about to argue when she saw Alexandria slowly nod.

“You teamed up with the villains.” Uma said, more to herself as if she was trying to piece it together, but Alexandria didn’t let her continue.

She charged but Uma was ready. She held her trident up and two crashed with a clang. Uma’s feet slid backwards but her upper body remained steady as she struggled against Alexandria.

Alexandria was blinded by emotion and it showed in her sloppy fighting skills, repeatedly lunging forward in stabbing motions with no mind to deviate from what she was doing.

Uma was skilled and she easily feigned right and left, locking her prongs with Alexandria’s until the trident slipped from her grasp with a clatter.

Alexandria stared at her fallen trident and reluctantly fell to her knees, holding her hands out in front of her so they could tie them together, sobbing all the while.

But Uma did not move to contain her. Instead he went to her knees, and waited until Alexandria lifted her head.

Once she had her attention, “Why did you do it?”

It was soft, non-judgemental but also curious as if Uma really wanted to know.

“No was going to get hurt,” Alexandria murmured, wiping away bit of hair that got into her mouth, “I-That was my condition. We- we just wanted to show that things in Auradon needed to change.” “What things?” Uma questioned.

“Everything,” Alexandria sputtered, trying to search for words, “The uniting of kingdoms, the magic ban, everything. Auradon likes to pretend everyone is the same and perfect and in harmony but it’s not!”

“It was stupid to unite the kingdoms all under King Beast. He doesn’t know what each kingdom needs. Neither does Ben. And having an Auradon-wide election for Atlantica’s queen? That’s not fair. Everyone in Atlantica voted for my mother because she trained for it her whole life, she knows what to do. And everyone else in Auradon voted for Aunt Ariel because she’s popular. She doesn’t even live in Atlantica anymore! She helps Uncle Eric’s kingdom, how in the seven seas does that makes sense or is considered a proper decision. Now Atlantica is a polluted dump but no one cares as long as those land dwellers get their underwater vacations!” “Auradon failed you,” Uma said matter of factly.

“And the Magic Ban, it hurts.” Alexandria gasped, “It just hurts. Everytime I have to return to the surface from Atlantica I have to get used to breathing this suffocating and air and the feeling of my legs being stabbed when I walk. And for what? So I can be like the other land royals and attend Auradon. Why do I have to accommodate them? Why can’t they accommodate me instead? That’s why Morgana, Kyro and I teamed up. We wanted to defeat the villains ourselves and show that-that magic can be good. Our magic is needed to fight magical enemies. It’s not bad. We shouldn’t have to deny the magic that is part of us.”

Jordan nodded sagely, bending down to her knees like Uma so she could be at Alexandria’s level, “I completely agree with you… But why did Victoria join?”

“Because if King Beast was wrong about the uniting of kingdoms and the Magic Ban, he’s also wrong about the Isle. Putting all the villains in one Isle just across from us was a mistake, and Victoria thought it was a mistake to bring Vks over too. That Auradon allowed too much time for them to stew and resent us so they should be cut off completely.”

Uma didn’t bristle at Alexandria’s words like Jordan expected her to. In fact her face didn’t change from her look. Her look was one of total empathy, that she was really listening to what Alexandria was saying.

“We- we- I just thought that if we allowed the villains to get in, we would show all the holes in King Beast’s decisions and maybe things would change.” Uma stood up to her full height, “Even though this hasn’t worked out how you planned, your stunt did make a difference. Things are gonna change around here.”

With one hand regally holding the trident, Uma held out her free hand to Alexandria, offering to help her get up. Alexandria sniffed and accepted it.

Once they placed Triton’s trident back on the mantle, the trio walked outside where things had calmed down considerably since they left.

Morgana and Morgaine were handcuffed unconscious on the ground. FG had returned with the dungeon carriage and Gil was now leading a handcuffed Victoria into the cart as Gil picked up the handcuffed sorceress. Jane placed Kyro, trapped inside a lantern, blowing flames futility against the glass.

Alexandria’s eyes widened at the sight of her defeated companions but Uma whispered reassuringly in her ear, “You’re not going to the dungeon. I’ll vouch for you.” Alexandria gave a wary nod, squaring her shoulders as she walked on her own accord, dignified as she could, into the dungeon carriage.

Ben and the others came up to them, sweating but victorious smiles were plastered on their faces.

“I see we have you to thank, Uma,” Ben slightly bowed to the sea witch. He held up her hand, “To Uma, the hero and savior of Auradon! And my new coordinator for VK relocation!”

Harry, Gil and the other Vks whooped and cheered which Jordan couldn’t help but join in.

It was over, it was actually over. The month and a half of grime and anxiety and fear for the inevitable was finally over. She could kiss the ground. But she didn’t, she still had a rep.

The less enthusiastic people of the group were Mal, and her friends who reluctantly clapped, surprised that their old rival was now a hero but that did little to dampen the mood as Harry and Gil lifted Uma up on their shoulders.

“Thank you.” Uma beamed, “Your Auradonian “heroes” were helpful too. Especially your former leader. I couldn’t have saved the day without her help.” Jordan covered her mouth to muffle the shocked squeak that came out of it as everyone turned to stare and clap for her.

She almost couldn’t believe her eyes but it was happening. At least a dozen faces were staring at her with pride and happiness, and absolutely no twinkles in their eye, signifying interior motives or greed emerging. They were clapping for her because she was a hero.

A warm feeling of pride, pride in herself bloomed in her chest and she felt her eyes sting from how overwhelmed she was of it all, but she did her best to hold it back because Allah knew Aziz would tease her about it forever. She just managed a whispered “Thank you,” coughing to clear the choked up emotion.

Once Harry and Gil set Uma down, and everyone got to crowding around and talking about their own experiences, Jordan crept up to Uma. She paused for a minute, watching as Uma took a quiet moment to herself, breathing it, still smiling broadly at everything that she had accomplished.

When Uma turned to face Harry, Jordan tapped her on the shoulder.

“Um, uhI-I just wanted to thank you for what you just said. It’s so sweet of you to thank me and call me a hero. You don’t know how much it-”

Uma backed away from Jordan a bit as she reached her arms out for a hug, “No, no. It wasn’t anything special. I was giving credit where credit was due. I really wouldn’t have been able to do it if you hadn’t made the right decision and made me your leader or if you hadn’t given me the three wishes today.”

Jordan put her hands back down to her side, trying to keep herself from hugging out of appreciation for something that was no big deal to Uma, “Still.. Thanks! Thanks so much.”

Uma nodded, “You’re welcome,” and she was swept up into her own hug with Gil and an enthusiastic kiss from her first mate.

Jordan, herself, was nearly bowled over from a hug from the behind, “Laqad faealnaha!” (We did it!)

Jordan laughed at Aziz’s loving attack, “Bialtaakid nahn faealna! Kanat mudahasha!” (Of course we did! We’re amazing!)

“So I guess we celebrate now,” Mal said once some of the buzzing excitement died down.

“No, it’s not time for celebration. We have work to do. As we agreed upon Ben.” Uma smirked as she nodded to Ben who sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

“We made a deal.”

“Someone should go back to the Isle and alert people what's happening,” Evie said.

“Don’t worry, I planned for that too,” Uma said.

“She’s a goddess,” Harry breathed, his eyes following Uma as she, Ben, Mal and Evie headed to the castle.

Circe, Jay, Carlos, FG and the others began to clean up the debris and guide the defeated villains to the guard’s dungeon carriage that had strolled up.

And the sun began to rise.

“Huh no party,” Calix looked around at the cleaning up committee.

“I like it,” Jordan said, smiling at the newly formed camraderie as Jay introduced his cousin to Carlos, Lonnie and Jane. Cosette and Gil were hugging and talking things out. And Circe, Aziz and Lala continued cleaning up with murmered comments between them.

“After all, every fairytale ends with a party and music and celebration. This- We’re all about subverting the tropes.” Jordan said, more than happy that this was all over and that she got to comment on her favorite thing, story tropes.

“You got that right,” Calix fist-bumped her.

#winner’s curse #disney descendants #my fanfic #my fanfiction #ocs #calix #circe #jordan #uma #alexandria #mal bertha #prince ben #ben florian #lonnie #carlos de vil #evie #jay #jade #harry hook #gil legume #fairy godmother #jane #cosette legume #lala #aziz #morgaine le fey #morgana le fey #kyro #victoria porter #jafar

[valiantly-onward]

The Serpentine War Ch. 8

Here’s chapter eight! It’s my finals week, so I’ve been posting a little less. In that vein, good luck to everyone on their finals!

Chapter 8: Home

The journey to Lorin’s hometown took many days, even on dragonback. Ray was getting tired of needing a ride, but Wu had not even begun to explain how to create Elemental dragons. When Ray asked Lei about it, she just laughed. So he sulkily rode behind her throughout the trip.

They were a strange flock of oversized geese, flying in a practiced V formation. Ray couldn’t get a good look at the other dragons, and he had no idea whether Maya was behind or in front of him. He didn’t like not knowing where she was - it made him feel a little disoriented, like he’d lost his sense of direction. Realizing he cared was more worrisome than the worry itself. He didn’t like how reliant he’d become on her simple presence.

The final leg of the journey came to a close on this bright, early morning. Sam Pale, the long-haired Master of Light, tended to get up with the sun, and Lorin saluted that “eagerness” by forcing them all to follow Sam’s example. Ray was quickly learning the hierarchy of the Alliance. Supposedly, they were all equals under Wu’s command, but it was obvious that respect went a long way with these guys. And their small group seemed to respect Lorin - at least, enough to get up early.

Ray was sore from the long days of flying. He didn’t mention this to Lei, but he was relieved when the head of the dragon formation dipped down through the clouds. Ray held onto Lei as they dropped. He threw a shout of joy to the wind as it rushed him toward the ground.

Most of the trip, they’d been flying over high, rocky hills. Now, those hills parted to reveal a village. From above, Ray saw it was bigger than Jamanakai. The houses were spread out amongst small plots of turned-up soil. Ray immediately wondered how they would defend such a place. There was no centralized area, and the low stone buildings didn’t seem to follow any kind of pattern. The only advantage was the hills. They’d be able to see the Serpentine coming for miles.

Of course, that same logic had failed in Jamanakai Village. But that was mostly Ray’s fault.

They landed. Every dragon vanished in a puff of Elemental energy. Villagers began emerging from the closest houses. A few kids shouted in delight and raced toward them. Many adults immediately approached Lorin, who tipped back his silver helmet and shook their hands, speaking in low tones.

Sam Pale lifted a long leg as the kids swerved between him and the Master of Lightning. “Oi, Master of Earth! What are we up to first?”

Didn’t the guy ever rest? They’d just arrived! They needed a break.

Lorin glanced back. “First things first. C’mon, all.”

The eight of them continued further into the village. Maya appeared beside Ray, and though they didn’t speak, Ray was quietly happy she was there. Deep in the village, they found an actual road; it blended so well into the dusty ground, Ray had missed it. Lorin led them to one of the houses near the road - a happy stone building with curved red roofs and no plot of land.

A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway. She started toward them purposefully. Ray thought for a moment she was carrying something beneath her coat, except -

“Alliance, this is my wife, Hanna,” Lorin said proudly. He leaned down, a hand on his wife’s belly. “And our soon-to-be son.”

“Daughter,” Hanna corrected. She kissed Lorin’s scruffy cheek and turned to the rest of them with a smile. “The one who’s right gets to name her.”

“Him.” Lorin nodded to Hanna. “We need to set up defenses and find lodging.”

“Then some of you better come with me,” Hanna replied. “This way.”

She strode around the back side of the house. Ray looked at Lorin. “You’re gonna have a kid?”

Lorin raised his eyebrows in response. “Yes. Is that so surprising?”

“No, just…” Ray paused. “Don’t you - I mean we - lose our powers if we have kids? Aren’t you afraid of that?” Wu had described it to him after Ray asked how Fire could’ve skipped a generation in his family. Upon reaching young adulthood, Masters aged slowly, as long as they had their powers. Children nearly always meant losing those powers, plus the slow aging. Already, a life without powers sounded like a half-life to Ray.

Lorin chuckled. “It has to happen sometime. I just hope the baby comes after all this is over.”

He seemed to deem the conversation ended. He directed Sam Pale and Vivian to go with him to the edge of the town, and the rest of them to follow Hanna.

“I can’t believe he’s not worried,” Ray said as soon as Lorin was out of earshot.

Lei shot him a quizzical look. “You don’t think love is worth it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Then you’re not in the best company. Everyone here has someone.” Lei jabbed a thumb at the blonde woman jogging after Lorin. “Vivian, for example. She got married real spontaneous when Wu called for us. She keeps going on and on about how she might not get a honeymoon if the war doesn’t end soon. If I ever meet Cliff Gordon, I might slap him, just for how many times I’ve had to hear his name.”

This made Ray laugh out loud. Maya strode up next to him, cocking her head at Lei. “What about you?”

Lei scoffed. “Can’t anything be private around here? If we win this war, maybe I’ll talk. If we don’t, it won’t matter, because we’ll all be dead.”

“Comforting,” Ray commented.

They went to find Hanna.

She showed them empty rooms inside the house. There weren’t many, so Maya and Lei would get the extra beds, while Ray and Asher, the Master of Smoke, were relegated the old couch in the main room. Just a hunch, but Ray was certain the couch wouldn’t fit two.

Unsurprisingly, Asher set his sleeping roll on the couch. He was small, colorful man in poofy pants and a fez. He looked a little different from Ray’s brand of Ninjagoan, but not uncommon, especially in Ninjago City.

He looked apologetically at Ray. “I am the smaller man. I don’t believe you would fit comfortably.”

Ray raised his hands in surrender, feeling a little guilty about his self-pity. But he did always have the rottenest luck. “You take it, man. I’m gonna head outside.”

Asher nodded to him. Ray pushed open the back door and found Maya outside. She was leaning against a tumble of boulders, glaring at the horizon.

“The bed’s that bad, huh?” Ray asked.

“It’s fine,” Maya said shortly. “Hanna is sweet.”

“Yeah, she is.” Ray rubbed the shoulder of his chest plate. He felt the grooves of the dragon engraving under his fingers. “Wanna go find Lorin?”

Maya’s gaze seemed far away. “I don’t like how it went down at Jamanakai Village. It wasn’t much of a fight. I even lost to a Venomari.”

“Venomari?”

Maya looked at him. “Yes. The Venomari tribe.”

“Ah, right,” Ray replied seriously. “Those are the blue ones.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Alright, you need a crash course in Serpentine tribes.” She sat down on the boulder. “Come here.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

Ray sat down. Maya leaned over in the dirt and began drawing methodically. She was really good, actually. Just by watching, Ray saw that her hand knew all the right places to put the strokes.

After she finished with a rough image of five different snakes, she sat up.

“Looks good,” Ray noted.

Maya glanced at him, like she didn’t know quite how to respond. “Thanks. Now, look. This one is called a Hypnobrai. Those are the blue ones. Don’t look them in the eye or they’ll hypnotize you.”

“Okay.”

Maya tapped the second image with a stick, the two-headed snake. “Fangpyre. Red. Their venom changes people into Serpentine.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. The big black ones, Constrictai. Strong, can choke you to death. And Venomari. If they bite you, the venom is deadly, but usually they’ll just spray your eyes and make you hallucinate.”

Ray pulled one knee up to his chest. “So the moral here is to stay away from snakes. Why did I agree to go to war again?”

A smile reached across Maya’s face. So small. Ray’s chest exploded with uproarious victory.

He offered a hand to her and she took it, pulling herself up. “And the Anacondrai?” he asked.

“The power of invisibility” Maya held his gaze for a long moment before releasing his hand. “The most dangerous tribe of them all.”

Ray nodded. “All the more reason to train, right?”

“Now,” Maya said. “You’re learning.”

~~~

The days spun into weeks. For the first time, Ray felt like he was really part of the Alliance. It helped that his powers seemed to obey him better each day. He now knew what to look for inside himself, the feeling that guided each spurt of power.

Every day, after their sentry duty in the hills, Ray and Maya would go to the boulders to train together. This, if nothing else, felt familiar, grounding. Sometimes, if Lorin wasn’t busy, he would come to watch and offer pointers.

Ray liked Lorin. The guy treated both him and Maya with respect, and he seemed like a steady, dependable guy. Ray admired that.

The Master of Light, on the other hand, was a little less steady. Sam Pale’s untidy habit of manipulating light to turn himself invisible was funny until Ray was on the receiving end of the joke.

That left the Masters of Lightning and Smoke, neither of whom Ray knew what to make of. Vivian was loudly annoying and Asher was quietly annoying, so it was a back-and-forth. Maya seemed to get along fine with both, which Ray didn’t understand.

On the third week, Ray left Hanna’s house in the afternoon and met up with Maya and Vivian at the base of the hills.

Here, a few lonely trees clustered close together, shaking in the breeze. Vivian smiled up at a branch where a bluejay had perched. It whistled and she whistled back.

“Oh,” she sighed. “I love bluejays. They’re such smart, handsome little things.”

Neither of them replied, because this was Vivian, and she cared very little if anyone replied so long as she knew they were listening. She was a willowy woman with long, curly blonde hair. Vivian had mass. Not in the physical sense; she just seemed to take up a lot of space. A balance between dreamy and so very present, she was contradictory in a way that made Ray’s head hurt. 

“Okay,” Ray said. The trees were designated as the split spot, and they would go each to a different section of the hills. Get the high ground and keep watch. “See you guys in a few hours.”

They split: Vivian sauntering like the lovable fool she was, Maya in ninja-mode like the Master-Wu-student she was, and Ray walking, like a normal person. Red didn’t help him stay concealed in the rocks, but it was better than the blues the ladies wore.

Ray kept his sword sheathed - he’d learned that lesson, it was far too easy to get distracted even in simple exercises. He would watch. He would wait for the attack, surely coming any day now.

All reports from the Echo Canyons said the Serpentine had posted themselves in Jamanakai and seemed to be staying there. That made everyone, including Ray, feel uncomfortable. If the Jamanakai snakes weren’t moving, that meant they were confident the remainder of the Anacondrai would pass the Mountain of A Million Steps.

Ray skimmed the hills for an hour or more, then took a post near the top. He sat down against a rock where he could easily see the surrounding horizon - the Mountain of A Million Steps rising in the distance, the sun glaring off the opposing hillsides, the ocean of rocky terrain that separated this green village from the Sea of Sand.

He heard something.

Ray jumped up immediately, staying low against the rock. Behind it, hissing hurried past, like leaves against a sidewalk. It took Ray a moment to separate the sound into voices.

“...this way.”

He peered around the rock. There was a flash of red, then a softer green. Fangpyre. Venomari. Serpentine.

Two of them. Both had legs instead of tails, but they were still quick, small. The Fangpyre had just one flat head, swirling white across its scales.

They hadn’t seen him yet. They seemed to be heading toward the ridge above the town. Ray kept himself hidden behind the boulders and followed them.

When they got to the ridge, the two snakes laid flat on their scaly bellies, stretching long necks above the rocks. The whole village strung out below them. And to the north, a dagger-split in the rocky hills. The pass the Serpentine needed.

The Venomari ducked back down. “Andulus, I can’t see any Masters.”

“They’re there,” the Fangpyre replied. “Quiet.”

Unbidden, the Fanpyre suddenly jerked its head back. Fortunately, Ray was able to pull himself behind his boulder in time. Three counts of silence. When he peered back around, the snakes were surveying the village again.

“I’m tired of this,” the Venomari said. “It’s not worth it to attack such a small village.”

“We’ll be ruling them all soon enough, Lysss.”

“Yes.” The Venomari’s small crown flared. “But I thought this was about warning the humans, not ruling them.”

The Fanpyre stretched his neck a little. “If they will not listen, we must ensure they don’t bring destruction upon themselves.”

“Why do we care?” the Venomari hissed. “The humans can destroy themselves if they want.”

“Don’t let General Acidicus hear you talking like that.”

“What about your general? Kandoras? He could put a stop to this.”

The Fangpyre snorted, though it sounded more like a muffled hiss. “He will not undermine Arcturus. Now, hush this traitorous talk.”

The Venomari fell silent. Ray laid a hand on his katana hilt. These creatures were armed, but only with small knives, and they were small themselves. After facing the Anacondrai, this would be a piece of cake.

He waited for them to start talking again, for distraction, but they didn’t. Ray got tired of waiting.

He attacked.

The Serpentine rolled away from each other. The Fangpyre was on his feet, whipping out his knife. Ray disarmed him in a moment with one well-placed strike. His blade hovered near the Fangpyre’s long red neck. Then he looked at the Venomari on his other side.

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” the Venomari said, gesturing to Ray. He hadn’t even drawn his knife. “No respect.”

“Are you scouts?” Ray asked.

The Fangpyre sneered in response.

Ray decided not to press it. “You’re coming with me down to the village. The Masters will love to meet you.”

“You presume to take us prisoner?” the Fangpyre snapped, though his slitted pupils darted warily to the blade. “A measly human with a sword?”

Ray raised his hand. It took a few seconds, but his fingers burst into flames. The Venomari, who’d finally started going for his knife, scrambled back.

Ray smiled at the Fangpyre in the firelight. “Let’s get moving.”

~~~

Striding back into a village with two prisoner Serpentine was a good way to get people to hate you.

The villagers wanted nothing to do with the snakes. It took a lot of convincing for one of Lorin’s villager friends to let them lock the Serpentine in his basement. Even then, everyone gave the house a wide berth, and the owner of the house constantly glared daggers at Ray.

Ray meant to return to the hills for duty with Vivian and Maya, but Lorin kept him. They stood in front of the house. Lorin scratched his black beard thoughtfully.

“I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“They can’t report back now,” Ray reminded him. “No intelligence. That’s good, right?”

“I suppose. But this means they’re scouting out this area. They will come through here. Perhaps in the next few days. Did you hear them say anything?”

“I -” Ray cut off when he saw Maya approaching. Their shift must’ve ended already.

She got to them, wide-eyed. “I heard you caught Serpentine.”

Ray jerked his head toward the big house. “They’re in there.”

“Are they scouts?”

“We think so.” Ray looked at Lorin. “Although one of them…”

Ray tried to recall exactly what the Serpentine had said. It seemed like the Venomari was against attacking the village. But that couldn’t be right.

“The Fangpyre didn’t like what the Venomari was saying,” he remembered. “He sounded like he was going against their generals, talking about how he didn’t want to fight. And - destruction? They said we’re going to destroy ourselves.”

Lorin’s brow deepened. Maya, on the other hand, caught her breath. “He said he didn’t want to fight?”

“Uh, I think so. But -”

“Ray, do you know what this means?”

“What?” he asked.

She shoved his shoulder. “The Serpentine are willing to compromise! They might negotiate with us!”

“Negotiate?” Ray threw a hand to the air. “We watched them nearly destroy an entire village, and you want to negotiate with them? They’re monsters!”

“They’re people,” Maya retorted. “Some of them don’t want to fight.” She paused to watch him, and added, “You’re just scared.”

“I’m not -” Ray stopped himself. Turned away, his hands linked behind his head. Turned back. “You’re right. Okay? I am scared. Is that such a bad thing?”

Maya didn’t reply for a moment. Her eyes were dark. “No,” she said at last. “But it doesn’t change what we have to do.”

At this, Lorin looked up. He frowned at Maya. “What would that be?”

“It’s obvious.” She stepped back to address them both. “We have to convince Master Wu to go to the Serpentine Generals and negotiate for peace.”

@greenygreenland

#the serpentine war #ninjago #ninjago fic

[lovelessmako]

Ve

Chapter: Two

Iselin ground her teeth as her flight feathers were clipped by rough, uncaring hands. She should've known she would be caught. Her owner had connections and money, of course he would hire someone. That's strange, when did she start thinking of her foster father as her owner?

"Did you learn your lesson?" He fisted his finger into her feathers as a threat for what would happen should she argue.

"Yes, Master."

He pulled, some feathers coming loose. "Don't call me 'Master' like you're some kind of pet! You call me 'Father'!"

"Yes, Father." She yelped in suprise as a cool piece of metal clamped around her neck. It was tight, too tight. She coughed, trying to breathe around it.

"Don't be so dramatic! That's just some jewelry to help you if you ever get lost again. And there's a tiny bit of motivation to stay close to me."

Pain erupted as lightning danced across her skin causing her to fall over. She lost control of her limbs and twitched for what felt like forever. When it finally stopped she pushed herself up onto wobbly knees and gasped for breath.

Her father knelt down and changed his tone to one filled with worry and dripping in sweetness, "you understand why I can't let you be alone, sweetie? There are bad men out there who would love to get their hands on such a pretty little girl. It's not safe. But I can protect you. I won't ever let anyone take you away from me."

Iselin wanted to puke, both from the pain and from his manipulative behavior. Why did it take her so many years to realize it? Denial. She was passed around so much that she desperately wanted this home to work. Her mother was murdered by her father when she was only a year old. Her older brother had tried to raise her, but a preteen isn't ready for a baby; no matter how much he tried. She would never blame him for bringing her to her god father. She was upset, however, that the man refused to take him in; only her. She spent 10 years with Gabriel, her human god father. Unfortunately, he was called into active duty and couldn't bring her along. He brought her to his older brother whom she had never met. Lucas seemed nice enough. He worked a lot, but he had a big house and she always had the best clothes. But then a strange man showed up on their doorstep. She was introduced to a Golem by the name of Goliander. Tall with a cruel face, he smiled down at her while Lucas explained that she would be staying with him for awhile; just until Gabriel came back from war. If she knew what she knew now, at 25, she would've known that Gabriel wasn't coming back. He had been gone 7 years at that point with no contact. She would've also suspected that Lucas was only keeping her while she was a child, due to the fact that she went to live with Goliander on her 18th birthday.

He sighed in annoyance. "Get up and compose yourself. We have guests coming in an hour." He was...he was leaving her alone out here? "And don't think about running, that necklace has a long range." Of course.

She nodded, choking out an, "understood, father." He nodded, satisfied and went into the house.

Iselin sighed to herself and stood up on shaky legs, using a tree for balance. At least this was better than last time. She thought back to the traumatic memory.

A tall women in a silk red dress and matching heels stood in the doorway, smoking from a slim cigarette holder held between her fingers. Her hair was dark and tied up into a messy bun, an expensive looking pin tucked inside. She spoke with an accent Iselin couldn't place but sounded Asian in orgin.

"If you want freedom so much," Goliander started, shoving Iselin forward, "then last 1 week with Lady Li. She is going to teach you the ropes of her business. During that time you are to obey her completely. Understand?"

Iselin had been so excited by the thought of freedom that she didn't even ask what the business was. She would later learn that the woman was something called a Mistress.

Back in present day, Iselin rubbed at where she knew a particularly bad cigarette burn marked her left breast. It still stung sometimes, but it was mostly the memory. She had went through such torture and then been dumped back onto Golandier's doorstep, bloodied and broken. She was 1 day away from freedom. But she never would've truly been free. Lady Li would've just kept her.

She looked towards the house to see a dress laying on the ground. So he was mad enough to make her change outside, huh? Shouldn't be suprising. How she was expected to keep her clothing spotless when it was in the dirt was beyond her. She removed her current mudded and torn dress and picked up the other one. Her corset was undoubtedly her favorite piece of clothing. She preferred to wear her's stealth, something she was glad she was allowed. It was a simple brown overbust; no need to get something fancy when it would just be hidden under clothing. It had come slightly loose and ruffled throughout the day so she removed it and hit it a few times to dust the fabric off. Slipping it over her head, she began to replace the sides. Her breasts were fairly large but few knew that because of her secret. She pushed them down, as opposed to up, and pulled the strings tightly. It hurt, of course, but it halved her cup size so it was worth it. Why didn't she like her breasts? Other women would try all kinds of tricks to make theirs look larger. She told herself that it was just because they got in the way.

Iselin suddenly grew self-conscious, realizing she was outside in nothing but her underthings so she quickly reached for the dress she had sat down earlier. She hadn't bothered to clean her chemise, hoping it wouldn't be seen. The gown was a simple one, floor length and in a lovely gold. So it seemed Golandier wanted then to look higher class. She could do that. She put on the coif that had been hidden in the grown's fabric as well as a French hood that matched the dress. She hated those; it always seemed like it was going to fall off. Plus, it was difficult to maneuver them around her addax styled without cutting the fabric.

There was a mirror propped up on the side of the house since it was common for her to be forced to change outside. She looked at her baby blue face and bright golden eyes. Iselin had never met another Troll with gold eyes, which drew a lot of attention. Swirls of lighter blue marked her arms and face. Gabriel had mentioned once that the designs have meanings such as bloodline and destiny. He claimed to not know what her's meant.

She stepped inside, forgoing shoes; they couldn't be seen under her gown anyway and it was the little bit of rebellion she was allowed. Inside stood a tall Troll, skin so dark blue that it appeared purple. He had 4 horns equally spaced atop his head that were nearly flat against his skull as they grew backwards, like hair. He stared her down with dark maroon eyes, his own clothing consistenting only of a leather strap across his chest and a tight fitting leather skirt that barely was long enough to cover his unmentionables. The Trolls she saw often wore similar styles of clothing, likely to easier display their markings. He seemed annoyed by her attire since it covered nearly all traces of skin. He let out some frustrated clicks, proving her point. Goliander returned with some clicks of his own in an assuring tone. It was times like these that Iselin wished she had been taught more of the Troll language, other than the words "I am at your service." She nervously pulled at her wings, drawing the Troll's attention to them. Like her eyes, she had never seen another Troll with wings before.

He puffed out his chest and let out an angry sounding stream of clicks. Within a moment, Golendier had grabbed onto the Troll's head and slammed it into the wall. He instantly went limp and slid to the ground, leaving a trail of purple blood. That was the first thing Iselin had learnt about her new home; Golems were very physically powerful. She quickly turned her gaze away, but he caught it. "Room. Now." With a quick nod, she scamped off towards the other end of the house. There had been a lot more visitors as of late. It seems like he was wanting to pass her off onto someone else. She had become too much trouble. Iselin quickly lay on her bed and closed her eyes. There was no telling when she would get another chance to rest and knew to use the time her guardian spent cleaning up his mess to her advantage.

#exophilia #demon oc #monster #may be triggering #trans male #tw death

[qhostqizmo]

A Wish

[insert my ugly, blubbering crying as you read this]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A storm rumbled menacingly outside. Lightning flashed, thunder echoed off hills and valleys, and the dark stormclouds rolled and frothed as the sky boiled in a cauldron of black. Rainwater surged and swelled rivers. Tt poured from the heavens like tears, pounding at the door just behind the traveling adventures in a mute threat.

Unlike the omen of disaster waiting just outside, Essätha shivered beneath her damp attire, mouth agape at the interior. From the exterior, the basilica they now resided in had appeared forgotten. The stonework masonry had lost its luster; with dull gray pillars and hauntingly aged architecture towering high above. The only illusion of value the chapel still held appeared to have been its windows. Stained glass images still retaining jaw-dropping depictions of golden suns, strange yet beautiful falcons, and shimmering sunflowers.

Inside however, it was like stepping into a different realm. Red topaz encrusted much of the decorations, and elaborate textiles decorated the halls. Unlike the weather outside, the windows of the church showed shafts of sunlight falling down radiantly. Essie dared to step out of the shadows of the doorway into one of these columns of light, astonished that it felt exactly like the warmth of sunshine on her skin.

“I don’t think we’re in Etheron anymore,” the sorceress breathed. She took another step, and as she did the white-light seemed to blind her, growing in intensity. It did not hurt, but her hand flew up to cover her eyes as her clothes became unnaturally warm; as if they had been flapping out on a clothesline all day.

The brightness dimmed and she removed her hand, marveling at suddenly dry clothes. She looked around, taking in the astonishing size of the building itself. There were tapestry hung to the walls; a few showing creatures of various kinds, some she knew and some she didn’t. Battle scenes were depicted in horrifying detail, with rubies tied into fringe to appear like dripping blood. As empty and lifeless as the building had appeared outside; without communion in decades, there were fresh plants filled with thriving lilies and daisies, perfuming the air like someone had just come in earlier.

“This place is stunning.”

She looked back, seeing Sulhadur’s jaw hanging openly unhinged. He swept his gaze from left to right, trying to absorb as much of the artifacts as he could. His claw reached out, not quite touching one of the antique-looking vases with meticulously detailed designs hand-painted on to it.

“Don’t touch anything,” Penimra warned, crossing his arms. He met the eyes of his fellow adventurers uneasily. “What? It just. It feels like a trap. Like everything could be cursed.”

“This coming from the man who is actually cursed,” Rava stated, earning a scowl from the warlock. She fluffed a hand through her puffy tight curls, gazing towards the jeweler close by. “You’re usually the one who senses all the weird things, what do you think?”

Essie turned back to examining the hanging wall art, listening to the jingle of chains and personal ornaments on the pink Tiefling. She squinted up at one of the more innocent of the massive images, this one displaying a canine of some sort, almost as white as snow. It was weaving, almost to the point of appearing to be caught in a playful frolic game of chase with a cat; creamy off-white in color, with golden eyes. The two appeared to be looking at each other, but the longer she stared, it almost appeared as though their eyes were moving around the room to stare at them.

But that didn’t make any sense. This wasn’t a painting where the eye-holes could be cut out, and it was hung much too high and separated from the wall behind it to be able to see anyone peering too.

“I’m not getting anything funky from this place,” Adela’s voice trailed, reverberating off the large chamber. “It’s unusual for sure, but nothing that screams ‘danger’.”

“Nhis is a holy place,” Pri’cha agreed, the light absorbing in their carapace. “We’re in no danger here.”

Essie was glad for the little cleric’s confidence, because it was unnatural how the eyes of some of the portraits moved to train on them. She kept the knowledge to herself though, hoping it was a mixture of her imagination and mirage of perspective that made it seem like they were keeping their gaze on you.

The sorceress glanced to her side, hearing the clack of hooves and rattle of trinkets. Face tilted their head her way in acknowledgment, adjusting a cloak to reveal the hand crossbow at their side. “Maybe let the muscle go first,” he teased.

She snorted laughter and allowed her shoulders to relax. It reignited memories of the first few days of knowing them, making her feel a bit more at ease. “Thank you for your chivalry, but I’ve got this.”

They nodded, moving closer to her. “Ya notice that these things seem to be looking at us funny, or is it just me?”

Her eyes rounded. She gave a short nod in response, too nervous to alert the others.

Although their mask hid some reactions, the tightening focus on their heterochromia eyes sharpened. Brow knit, the blue-hued Tiefling nodded and began to saunter to the other side of the room, inspecting what appeared to be some sort of basin.

Essätha shrugged it off, looking ahead into the larger area shaped like a dome. At the far side of it was the biggest of the tapestry yet, with the image of a man’s face. They had a depiction of a halo surrounding their head, and a long silvery-white mane of hair falling over their shoulders. Their eyes almost matched the white-gold of their halo, standing out against a stoic expression. Everything about the man’s posture screamed of regal strength. The details were extraordinary; from the stray strands of hair falling over their forehead to the thread colors used to add highlights over the amber tones against their cheekbones and collarbone.

Honesty, it was a very attractive depiction of someone. They looked torn between being tired; of some age that had grown to see a great deal, and powerful. The sorceress dropped her gaze lower, spotting the almost unnoticeable door hidden in the darkness behind the huge image. Small, relatively swallowed up by the shadow cast by the tapestry, it was unimpressive and made of a dark wood that disappeared easily in the darkness outside the window’s light.

She advanced forward, interest peaked.

Approaching the archway, the door made a most peculiar noise; almost as though it was unlocking itself. Mostly Essie was aware of was the sound of her shoes echoing against the tiled floors and her breathing, which seemed much too loud for the silence of his place.

Her hand took the handle, and pressed on the lever to unlatch it. The door swung open with ease; quiet, and almost invitingly light for such appeared to be sturdy wood.

There wasn’t even the distant sound of the storm raging outside in this room. It was bright but simple; lacking all the extravagant and elegant novelties of the other space. The appearance of sunlight in this area came from straight ahead, a single circular window up high which washed through the room. A few pillars set on either side of a long carpet lead up to three stairs, which stopped into a stage. The platform had a single, empty display stand.

Gasping, Essie pulled her bag of holding around to rummage around. Her hand fumbled, finally pulling out a rather simple golden staff from her contents. It had seen better days; the gold tarnished and discolored. At the very top, an image of the sun that looked as though it matched the one set in the window’s design.

She hurried forward, clutching the item to her chest. The sound of the door shutting behind her caused pause as her foot hit the first step of the dais.

“There you are, Essie. Blast this door-”

Her heartbeat picked up, looking behind her.

She watched as Amon tried feebly to yank the door open again, to no success. His hair looked frazzled, like someone had been ruffling a hand through it the shades black.. A smile touched her face as she lowered the staff, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I should have waited for the rest of you to follow,” she admitted. “Do you need help with that door?”

The nobleman released the doorknob and carded a hand through his hair. Ah, that explained the mused look. “No,” he uttered defensively, looking back up at her. “Where’s Face, anyway? I saw them come in here, and went to follow.”

Her brow knit. “Face? I didn’t hear them come in. You’re the first person I’ve seen, or heard; and trust me, Face isn’t that quiet.”

A tense silence lingered in the air. Something was certainly off-putting here. The pictures hadn’t made sense, and now a Tiefling was supposed to have entered this room, to be no where to be found. If the sorceress wasn’t so sure, even from this distance, that the dark eyes upon here were not Amon’s, she may have questioned the reality of the situation. But she knew those eyes, and the worry-creases on his forehead, and the mannerisms of his gestures as he nervously licked his lips.

She swallowed, turning back towards the lonely display. It felt incomplete. Her sweaty hands clutched and relaxed against the metal in her hand. “Maybe you were seeing things, or maybe there was another door?”

“There was no other door, Essie.”

Essätha grimaced, ignoring the compelling softness of his tone, and the worry. She advanced the final few steps, holding the rod out horizontally towards the display.

“Essie?” Amon uttered, shocked. “Essie, what are you doing? Don’t; you don’t know what that will do-”

The staff fit perfectly into the length of the stand, balanced on either side. She tilted her head, finding the whole thing curious. They’d found the staff had been stolen when they’d recovered it from a balor and they’re weaker minions. It had emitted a strong aura of magic, and a sense of ‘good’, according to Pri’cha. It wasn’t something that would ever belong with satanic being such as that. They’d had no way of knowing where it belonged, but this…

Abruptly, a tremor rocked through the room, and dust cascaded from the ceiling. Essie stepped back, taking the stairs down to base level uneasily as Amon darted forward.

“What was tha-”

A flash of illuminating light emerged from the window, dazzling the space in sunshine. The Yuan-Ti woman yelped, turning to hide her face into the nobleman’s as he brought his around them.

“I see you have returned my scepter,” a voice echoed, gravelly and firm.

Blinking the tears out of her eyes, Essätha stared up into Amon’s face. He looked just as bewildered as she did.

“Your scepter?”

There was no reply. She whirled around, facing the staff now.

It resided in the hand of a man. The likeness of his face was the same as the one in the tapestry just outside the room; down to the holy glow that radiated around their head like a wreath on a door. They flicked their robes out, extending a hand and placing the other with their rod against their chest. His gown was a deep royal purple, with golden trim along its edges, appearing to be spun as though from lustrous gold.

The scepter in his hand appeared as though it had been thrown backwards in time. It shone as though it had just been forged; bright and glistening like a newborn sun.

“Thank you for returning my weapon,” the man stated a bit more warmly. “The scepter of the eternal sun is a very powerful weapon; I had been trying to track down its whereabouts for decades now.”

“We… Found it on a fiend, and his followers,” Essie murmured softly. She was aware of her ogling stare, but couldn’t seem to break it. Admittedly, the man was not as enchanting in person, but the presence they gave off was intimidating as much as it was captivating.

Amon took hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers. She couldn’t take her eyes off the stranger to know if he was trying to get her attention, or comfort her, or convince her to go, but she squeezed his hand back. His touch grounded her a bit; reminding her that this was really happening.

“That is… disturbing news,” the strange divine man remarked, turning his staff over in his hands as he examined it “It is safe though, and untainted. Thank you.”

“You’re… welcome?”

The figure’s eyes glowed; a white-gold light that felt as though it seared through her very soul. Essie shuddered, wondering if they were some sort of Aasimar. They had appeared from seeming nothing and no where though; perhaps there was a hidden teleportation circle, or they had the ability to move through light like some could shadows?

The man smiled at her, almost as though he could read the clueless expression on her face. “You remind me of someone,” they remarked, studying her with an intense gaze. “I think it is in the shape of your face and the texture of your hair alone, though. That is where the similarities stop. You feel… different.”

The hand in hers tightened almost painfully. Essie flinched.

“We’re glad to have helped return your scepter, sir. Unfortunately, we should see to our allies-”

“Your friends are fine,” the man stated confidently, his smile falling to a more neutral expression. “Forgive me for the confusion, I had meant to speak with you all separately. It seemed this one was able to escape me, somehow.”

Out of the corner of her eye, the sorceress watched her nobleman raise his chin. His face was defiant, and he moved closer to her side. She hadn’t realized she’d been clenching her teeth tightly together, nervous, until his proximity allowed her to exhale, and slacken.

The scepter struck the ground, causing Essätha to jolt as a sweeping gust of magic swirled through the room. “I go by many names, but you may call me Amaunator; God of Law and Time, Keeper of the Eternal Sun, Light of the Law, and Bearer of the Sun.” He grimaced. “I was once a powerful deity, but have lost some of my congregation to that of Pelor, the new Ruler of the Sun. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.” Their gaze dragged towards her nobleman blankly.

“I have not been given the pleasure to know either of you, however.”

Lowering his gaze, her nobleman was the first to speak through gritted teeth: “Amon, your Holiness.”

The piercing bright eyes shifted back towards her as the sorceress looked between the two gentleman. Her cheeks warmed beneath the deity’s gaze.

“Uhhh- Essätha Meduza, sir- your Holiness?- Your light-” she floundered awkwardly.

“A great pleasure to meet you, Essätha; Champion of the Light…” The golden hues of his eyes flickered; a look of concern tugging at his brow. “… It seems you are destined for a great many colors, however. I can feel the Shadowplane in your blood, and the touch of a forgotten Goddess lingering in your step. She watches over you.”

Amaunator’s eyes fell on Amon, and his brow raised. “And you as well, Amon. She watches you, too. The pair of you must be tangled in a unique destiny for a Goddess; even one who has sadly lost so much power, to be looking after you.”

“You know of Jubaeta?” Essätha gasped eagerly, taking a step forward.

The God laughed, and flickers of light danced around him. “Not well, I am afraid. Most Gods and Goddess are at least aware of each other. What a pity Her Radiance has laid a claim upon you, I would be all too eager to accept such a beautiful, witty pupil into my clergy.”

Clearing his throat, the Amaunator carried himself down the stairs. As he moved, the light from the window struck beams upon him, following his angle and movements. It was almost as though he was the sun itself, shining the light.

“I should owe you my thanks; but I will start with madam Meduza,” they stated, catching her eye with a smile. “For being the one to return my scepter to its rightful place at my alter, I offer you a gift only a true God can bestow. You may be aware of a spell known as the Wish spell, and perhaps are aware of its limitations. I offer you a single Wish, miss Meduza. Just, one.”

“I can alter time. I can change the world and the reality of your fragile mortal lives. I can raise the dead, or see that the lives of your enemies end. But even with my magic, there can be consequences. For example: if you wished for a God to disappear, then they would perhaps only be wiped from your memory, and you may be unable to see or hear their holy texts, their symbols, or the word of their followers. If you wished for the love of another, know that it is likely you will only earn their obsession; giving them half a mind, and destroying your freedom in the process.”

“The choice is yours, miss Meduza,” the Bearer of the Sun stated, their gaze glittering as they stopped a few feet from her. “What is your Wish going to be?”

Essätha gaped at the deity, her mouth hanging wide open.

Did he say… Wish?

As in, practically anything?

Her gaze raked down to the floor, the possibilities buzzing in her brain. She could have her family back. Her mom always there for her; spirited and quirky and fun and just the way she remembered. Just as warm, and understanding, and patient as she remembered. The thought made her shiver, remembering vague memories of falling asleep in her mother’s embrace, whispering in her ear, fingers combing through her wild untamed mess of hair even as a child.

She could remove the Raven Lord from power. That one was trickier; she’d need to think of how to play with her words. How could you abolish an entire cult, and destroy a council with a single Wish? Still, it was a tempting idea. With no supporters, his influence would be diminished and so would his threat. He might still a force, but what one god-like figure against an army standing against them? The consequences though if she got it wrong; if instead it backfired into a catastrophe made her fearful. What if instead it was as Amauntor warned, and instead all it did was erase something vital from her instead?

And what would her mother say if she was brought back from the dead? Years had gone by, would she return old, or at the age she had died? They would be the same age, and so much had changed. What if her mom came back, but emerged back in Miamoorgyate? What if she was still ill?

Even tossing all those away, what if she simply didn’t want to be back? The afterlife was a place of rest and peace, and perhaps her mom had made her own. It was the spell of a lifetime, from a being who could probably warp it more into her favor than she could ever hope or dream to do. Her mom would probably be furious she wasted something so important on her, no matter how much she wanted to see her again.

And then there was the now: how it had changed, how she had changed. She never forgot the love and lessons of her mother, but she had learned to let it go, and move on. She still was taking the teachings on to others, and offering her own advice.

And day by day, she was learning to love and let love in, too.

Her breathing accelerated, and her eyes moved up to Amon who had been standing silently at her side; watching her expressions shift with worry.

She knew what she wanted to do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The nobleman exhaled, finally finding the ability to breathe again as Essätha looked at him. The information dropped on them had been a bomb; and he’d hardly wanted to believe a word of it, but his gut couldn’t find anything definitive to fight the stranger with. His body shape, his clothes, his abilities; they appeared much like the God he had heard of vaguely.

But maybe part of his desire to doubt the Keeper of the Eternal Sun was the streak of jealous he felt watching the way he’d looked at Essie. The way he spoke to her. The look of admiration as he took her in, and spoke to her as though she was someone he knew.

The audacity he had to compare her to someone else, pretending as though it was a compliment.

Amon swallowed, feeling the flex of her hand against his. He was losing the ability to drag in air again, looking at her. She was surrounded by the light; colors grazing her skin like a rainbow, a nimbus slowly emerging and dancing around her head and illuminating her features. She had a halo around her hair. The power of the God held nothing to the solar flare of her eyes shining against the darkness.

She stole the oxygen straight from his lungs. Essätha Meduza, the brave most gentle-hearted soul that she was, the strength she carried, lighting up his world in ways nothing ever could. No friend or fair lady, no sunlight or candle, no treat or victory brought the serenity and stillness in him then she did. The angelic glow surrounding her now was something he saw even without the help of some divine being, or without the sun itself.

He licked his lips, holding her hand close to his chest. “Essie? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She looked eager, and then shaken, and then overjoyed, and then nervous. He watched her emotions play out; the haunting in her eyes, the shape of her lips changing, her eyebrows raising and lowering.

He squeezed her hand again in encouragement. In his heart he wanted to say something, but the words were buried in his chest, beneath his ribcage.

She had a decision to make. He didn’t want to influence that in any way.

His sorceress ignored the intrigued God staring at her from behind, and turned to grab his other hand. The nobleman grinned at her, perplexed by the gesture. He wanted so badly to curl the stray ringlets hanging above her eyes, diminishing her glow, but refrained.

“What do you want most in the world?” she breathed, “what do you want more than anything else?”

Amauntor made a ragged wheeze, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Amon’s smile tightened with confusion, truly baffled. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“You could have Marie back,” Essie exclaimed brightly, her face lighting up with wonder and glee. “You could wish to have your mother back during your childhood, or for Arthur to never have rewed, or for no one to have ever discovered about Fontane. You can change history; you could ask to have had the ability to open the crypt and let Fontane out, or you could make the Raven Lord change his targets so you would never have been under his radar-”

“Essätha,” he gasped painfully, “what are you doing?”

“I want to give the Wish to you,” she choked, tears springing up in her eyes. “I want you to have it.”

“Why? Why would you give up something like this? It could change your life-”

“It would change yours, too.”

Beneath his feet, it felt like the entire dimension of the world shifted. He could still see the outline of the deity looming, now walking at an angle. He watched them as though a predator; stalking, tearing them apart with his eyes. He was trying to decipher something, needling them.

The light shifted with him around the room, basking them in different shades and streaming, cascading waves of bouncing hues and glowing slanting rays and beams. It never stole away from fire burning in her eyes.

This was a rare gift. She was willing to give up having anything; her heart’s content, the world on the platter at her feet, barely without limitations no matter how mad or wild or impossible, and she was offering it to him? For what?

His lungs grasped for something; anything. Amon staggered, his ears ringing, hearing the distant muffled sound of Essätha’s voice as she grabbed at his shoulder, and pressed a hand over his chest. Checking for a heart attack, maybe? Was that a thing? He could probably be having one right now.

There wasn’t enough air in the world to recover the panic and alarm he was experiencing. She was throwing away a guaranteed success, for what? For him?

What would give her the drive to do something so selfless? How could she sacrifice having that sort of power at her hands, and offer it to him? Whatever had he done to deserve something so important, so life-altering? How could she be willing to offer him so important; so precious?

“I can’t breathe,” he whimpered, his knees beginning to buckle.

“Easy, easy- I’ve got you m’lord,” Essie soothed, guiding him to kneel on the floor. “You’re alright. I’m right here.”

Reacting purely out of instinct, he sought the light. He felt a cold abyss swallowing him from below; dragging him down. He grabbed her arm tightly, shaking as he pulled her in.

She dropped down before him, wrapping her arms around him.

Choking, Amon hide his face in her hair, breathing in gardenias and honey. His hands shook as they rested on her waist, and slid around to pull her close. She was pleasantly soft and warm; curling into his frame snuggly. He could feel the heat of her magic running along his spine; rising the temperature of his clothes and adding a layer of comfort to her touch. His pulse fluttered, and his heart jumped into his throat as his chest turned to molten fire.

He couldn’t believe she’d give him so much. She was always putting so much of her fire and effort and belief into him; into his aches, his life, his desires. She cared about his sacrifices, his successes, and his failures. She listened to him gripe, and cheered silently when he expressed his opinions and views. Now she was putting him first yet again. Whatever he asked for, whatever he needed. His past, present, and future were all lined up before him, and he could say anything he wanted.

“I’m not taking this away from you,” he mumbled, his voice husky and broken as he clung to her. “You deserve this. You should have this.”

“I want you to have it,” Essätha urged, rocking him gently from side to side. “You should take the Wish.”

Amon pried his fingers free from the back of her shirt and pulled back, looking up into the artistic wonder of her face. Tears were shimmering in the corner of her eyes as she smiled back at him. She pulled an arm from his back to wipe at her nose in a gesture shy and awkward. Gods, it shouldn’t look so adorable.

“I don’t want the spell. I don’t want it-”

“Why not?”

“It’s meant for you. Have you thought of what you could do with it? What about your mother, or what- what happened to you in Miamoorgyate, or your own entanglement with the Raven Lord? You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to be the one always giving things up for other people.”

“I’m not giving up anything,” she cooed, cupping his face in her hands. The tears spilled out, following the curve of her cheek down to her chin. “I’m okay. I’m really okay. I don’t need to change anything.” Her palms caressed his cheeks, rubbing beneath his eyes as moisture began to collect beneath them. Essie hiccuped around a sob, her throat moving reflexively as she whimpered softly: “What I want more than anything is for you to be happy, and for you to live the life you always should have had. I want you to take this opportunity, and give yourself whatever your heart yearns for most. There is no one else I would rather give this to; no one else I want to see complete and living out their dreams, than you.”

This, Amon realized, was much more than a gift. This was more than a sign of humility, or compassion, or generosity. With this sort of magic, whatever he choose, it could make the entire universe different. Whatever someone said, it could make it so that they never met. She was okay with whatever he wanted, whatever the cost, as long as he believed it would benefit him; make him feel whole, make him feel okay.

This was love.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, still trembling as he brushed her tears away. Essätha smiled just for him; tender, sweet, rearranging the axis of the world and throwing the planets out of alignment. His heart went soaring, flying; all it took was a glance into her eyes and he never rose higher in his life. Sitting on his knees in a church, a literal God hovering nearby, and nothing; no one, ever looked as perfect or sacred.

“I want you,” he whispered; chest aching. “More than anything.”

Slowly, Essie’s mouth fell open. Her eyes darted from his, to his mouth. She breathed out slowly; deeply; her lips trembling.

Amon licked his lips, trying to find his voice again. Her fingers brushed along his cheekbones. His thumb stroked the corner of her mouth, mentally grabbing at words he could not reach.

She leaned in closer; barely enough to be noticed. Her lashes lowered.

He pulled her in as she tilted her head, and kissed her softly.

He never felt more. The empty, wanting feeling that had been strangling him all his life was replaced by such a fulfilling sensation, his head felt dizzy. He kissed her between gasps, along tears, despite the fact a deity was standing nearby, awkwardly clearing through throat at the scene they were making. He didn’t care if the Overlord of All Ao themself came to demand he stop, or if the Raven Lord appeared and threatened a fate beyond measure if he did not cease; nothing, nothing was going to keep him from Essätha Meduza. Come Heaven or Hell, she was what he longed for. She was everything he needed, and then some.

“The spell?” Essie mumbled, half-dazed. She kissed him back as he drew her in; a faint surprised squeak in the back of her throat. A snivel escaped her as they tore apart. He gave her an open-mouth kiss. She sighed as he pulled away, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her hairline; anywhere, everywhere. Worshiping her, pinging for her, hardly believing this was all real.

“Take it,” he half groaned, half sang. “Take it. I have everything I’ve ever been looking for here, in my hands.”

#qhost story #Essatha Meduza #Amon Illiad #OTP: Essamon #softly written #OOOF this destroys me

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Not Yet Ready.”

Hope you guys enjoy the story for today!

Dr Umbra set down the holo pad on the table with a grunt and turned to look at the human sitting across from her at the table. She hadn’t worked with many humans, so the way its eyes hovered over her was enough to make her squirm in her seat nervously. If she could have hazarded a guess, she would have said it looked hungry, ready to crawl across the table and take a bite from her, but she shook off the thought and set the holo-pad down on the table.

Outside, the glassy planet swirled and undulated below them, the ground most obscured by thick wafting vapors of red, blue and green. On occasion large swaths of the ground would be uncovered giving them a distant view of barren landscape dotted with black spires, before being plunged back into the mist again.

This human wasn’t likely to do that.

“And this is your account of what happened, nothing left out.”

“The human memory isn’t exactly reliable, but that is what I remember.” The human said sitting back in his chair. In comparison to her, he was a very large creature, maybe two feet taller than she was with creamy skin and light tawny hair. His eye though, was an unsettling shade of bright green that felt unnatural in this lightning. All around them the other scientists murmured in surprise and consternation, not really sure what to make of the human’s account.

One of the other Tesraki scientists stood, “It might have been telepathic, like the starborn, and used some sort of mental manipulation to make you feel the way you feel. I would not be entirely surprised, though how something could have survived for so long without access to nutrients or other Stimuli, I do not know.”

Their only Vrul scientist, aside from Dr. Krill stood, “There is only one way to sort this out. We analyze his memory directly.” He said pointing to the machine o nthe other side of the room, calmly sitting on a side table and waiting to be utilized.

Dr Umbra turned to look at the human, “Are you willing?”

“Whatever you need.” He glanced at the machine, “However, I must warn you, I don’t think…. What I remember is something that machine will be capable of capturing.”

The Vrul waved a hand, blowing him off slightly as he stood and walked over to the other side of the room.

The group of scientists bunched together, gathering around as Admiral Vir took his seat in the chair, and allowed the Vrul to fix the nodes of the machine to his head. Dr. Krill stood close by both sets of arms crossed over his chest.

Dr. Umbra glanced at him repeatedly unnerved by the strange way in which he stood, arms crossed, leaning on two set of feet more than the others, his head cocked unnaturally to the side for a Vrul. Even the way he moved was unsettling, but she supposed that is what tended to happen to you when you spent too much time with humans. He may have written the book on the humanization phenomenon, but that clearly didn’t make him immune to it.

The projector was set up to face an empty wall, and the science crew gathered around.

The human leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The picture that was brought up before them was obscured in red. The memory boosting capabilities of the machine projected the image in sharp relief against the wall, in almost cinematic quality. Seeing through a human’s eyes was rather disorienting, such a narrow field of view but with such sharp edges. The fog swirled around him as he explored through the strange monolithic city, until, at some point, he did fall through the wall and into the dark room shining with little red bulbs.

The memories had been sharp up until this point, but as soon as he came into the room where the strange contraption was described… suddenly the memory went hazy. When his eyes were focused on the thing before him, the memory was blurry and confused, constantly moving pieces of the object as if it couldn’t decide where to put them. It was like trying to watch a very old computer render an object that was to complex, until the brain gave them a watered down version of the object that was nothing more than a ball of twisting shapes without any texture or refinement.

All around them the crowd muttered in nervous surprise.

Sitting before them, the human breathed deeply.

On the screen, he reached out a hand…. And his fingers made contact with the strange alien contraption.

The screen before them went blank, and they staired at it for a long moment. 

Dr. Krill rose from his seat, just as the human spasmed. His back arched and his head was thrown back violently. His eyes were open now but were focused on nothing. His hands were clenched into claws, before them the screen erupted into light and dark. At first blinding white light and then a sudden collapse before thousands of stars whirling past in spiral arrays. The image flickered and faded and twisted and blinked.

The human seized again violently tipping himself over and onto the floor.

“STOP the machine!” Someone called 

Smoke erupted from the power source of the contraption as all the circuits started to smoke. The image in front of them had degraded into nothing more than pixels of light and dark swirling around in a confusing mass of chaos.

Then the lights on the entire ship began to shutter and blink.

A lightbulb burst nearby.

Everyone yelled, startled and dove under the nearest table. 

The human was on the ground still locked in a horrible rictus, back arched hands balled into claws feet on the floor knees somewhat bent, pink foam dusted the corners of his mouth.

Dr. Krill raced forward and ripped the nodes from his head in one foul swoop.

They came off with a loud popping noise leaving behind tiny circles of red on the human’s skin, but as soon as it was gone the smoking died away and the human slumped back to the ground.

Then the room went dark.

They could hear it, surprised and startled cries from around the ship as the entire electrical circuit went out. Someone turned on a pocket light, giving Dr. Krill just enough room to examine the human, who now lay unresponsive on the floor in front of them.

The lights blinked back on a few minutes later as the secondary generator pulled power from the fusion core. The lights were slightly dimmer to alert the staff that something had gone wrong with the main power grid.

So it was in that eerie yellow light they watched as the human slowly came back to himself. He looked groggy and confused his single eye distant as he sat up to look at them, and when he did the entire room stepped back in fear. No one could have said exactly why, but when the human opened his mouth it was not his voice that emanated from inside.

You Are Not Ready

The entire room staggered to their knees as the booming voice shook the very ship rattling the glass in the observation deck, and causing spidering cracks to appear on the surfaces of some of the holopads.

Every last human aboard that ship was brought to their knees, hands over their ears,and every last alien went completely prone passed out on the spot.

No one knew how long they laid there, but when the awoke, most of the humans were still crouched on the floor, their hands over their heads. They stood slowly, looking around the room.

Admiral Vir was lying on his back unresponsive, and no amount of prodding or nudging could get him to wake up.

The lights overhead were constantly in a state of flickering.

“What in the hell was that.”  Someone muttered

Off down a long dark corridor, someone would find Conn in a similar state of unresponsiveness as he floated, unmoving in the hallway.

***

Admiral Vir received an MRI, CT and  and EEG from the groggy and somewhat confused medical department before he finally started to come too. He groaned and rolled to his side as a couple of the doctors stepped in to steady him.

He lookd up and around in confusion at the people staring down at him in concern.

“Is everything alright….. What happened.”

“I….. we aren’t entirely sure, how dod ou feel?”

He reached up a hand to rub at his head, “I…. I’,m not sure…. I…. I can’t remember.”

They waited.

“The last thing I remember was the science team arriving and then…. nothing .”

It was hard to describe what he felt, it was like his entire mind and body were soar. It was similar to the feeling he might have gotten after a particularly difficult test during the academy, but magnified tenfold. It was so bad that he could barely string two words together the mental exhaustion was that profound. And that wasn’t counting the physical soreness, in his throat,and his chest, and his lungs and his entire abdominal cavity and all the muscles therein.

He felt as if….. As if…..

well ….

As if someone had worn him like a glove.

That was hardly something he bet that the others would understand, so he didn’t mention it, and lay back on the bed eyes closed. No one distrubed him when he slept for a continuous seventy two hours afterwards. In the end Dr. krill couldn’t decide if he had been in a coma or not.

As for the electrical components of the ship, many of the major circuits had been fried and required replacing, and the entire power box  on the first interface ahd to be replaced. Everyone else aboard the ship, no matter their shift or their history of sleep disorders, slept for just over ten hours solidly and without waking up.

The nonhumans were also affected. Those of them that were capable of sleeping slept almost as long as the humans did, and those that were not, like the Vrul saw a significant drop in their energy and IQ quotients for the remaining ten hours as if their cortical zones were trying to reboot themselves.

Below them, that red planet continued to swirl and undulate, seeming peaceful though somehow dangerou.

Like a predator lying in wait.

The group of them tried to decide if they should even continue their scientific venture. Clearly something was going on that none of them quite understood. Perhaps it was something they were better off leaving alone, but whatever it was….. One thing was for certain.

Something strange was going on.

When one of the scientists tried to pull out a recording of what had happened, the electronics inside his camera was completely fried.

There was no physical evidence that what happened to them had happened, aside from a collective memory muddled and confused that took up about an hour of time for all of them. Once everything was back to normal it was almost impossible to believe that anything happened at all.

The Admiral awoke after his seventy two hours bright and cheerful as if nothing had happened still not remembering anything that had taken place, and below them, the planet continued to swirl with its strange and unusual mist.

***

Admiral Vir supervised the loading of the shuttles, watching as a near ton of scientific equipment was moved into the back of the shuttle. His hands were resting on his hips, though he could hardly feel anything through the gloves of his space suit: white this time and emblazoned with the GA scientific symbol.

One of the other science officers passed by carrying a crate, and paused long enough to set it down on the metal floor rolling his shoulders inside the space suit, “So we are still going along with this?”

“I hardly see that we have any other choice.”

“Whatever that was, it ook our our entire ship with just a memory. This is one of those times I think it might be best not to poke the bear.”

Admiral Vir nodded, “I am inclined to agree with you to some degree, however,” he motioned to the assorted aliens as they supervised the loading of the shuttle, “They plan to go with or without us, and I would rather not leave them unprotected.”

“No chance we can talk them out of it?”

Adam shook his head, “I don’t think that is going to be possible.” He turned to look at the other man, and seeing the dour expression on his face, he smiled and perked up patting the man on the back, “Besides, nothing is going to happen to us,  you want to know why?”

“Why sir.”

“Because we are just too pretty to die.”

“You’re quoting a movie I haven't seen, aren't you?”

“You know me too well.” He turned back to the door crossing his arms over his chest as Dr. krill came to join them.

“I am with our friend here. I think what you are doing is very very stupid.”

Adam raised his hands in mild offense, “You know what to be quite fair, THIS time it isn’t me. I tried to talk them out of it, but they say then need to go down and study it. I take no responsibility for the stupid decisions being made right now, none at all.”

“You could order them to stop.”

“No I can’t I am in charge of the GA’s Military fleet, not their scientists.”

Krill grunted, “You know, despite this being there Idea, I somehow get the impression that you are the one who is going to suffer for it.”

He scratched his head, “Things do seem to happen like that don’t they.”

“Don’t touch anything weird.”

“Well I think I  have proven incapable of keeping that kind of promise. However, I promise I will TRY not to touch anything that I shouldn’t.”

Krill sighed, “I guess that is the most that we can hope for.”

“I am bringing some marines along with us and hopefully that will be enough to keep everyone safe. I am having them briefed quickly on the methods of data collection that the scientists are going to be using, mostly so they don’t get in the way.” hge held up a hand as Krill opened his mouth, “And YES I have been briefed as well, and do not plan on getting in the way of the smart people while they do their work.”

The scientist glanced at hm as he spoke, “Don’t you have a degree in like…. Orbital physics or something.”

Adam rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder, “I actually have what might be the equivalent of a Ph.D in flight mechanics, and that does include orbital physics. However, I will be the first to admit that those facts aren't because I am naturally intelligent, I just worked really hard in the academy, and somehow it paid off. So next time you want someone who can calculate the flight trajectory of a rocket by hand, I am your guy, but when it comes to studying weird rocks…. I have no idea what I am doing.”

He glanced back at his assembled marines, circling the group of aliens as their protection detail, and not for the first time in so many months he wished that Sunny was here.

He would feel a lot better if he knew she was watching his back. 

[ataleofaxes]

The Journal

(Some of you may have already seen these. I’m just gonna post them here too, for safekeeping <3)

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 “Wooby… Wooby, we can’ go in thew! Gwamma wiw be mad! Come back!”

 The creak of a floorboard under careless foot, ancient and unkempt. The rattle of shutters in a galing wind, the whistle of a coming storm through a cracked window pane. The deathly stillness of dust, boxes and crates filled with the unknown, shadowy silhouettes of either furniture or monsters in the darkest corners… a flash of brightest red, blood on snow on the chillest winter’s morn.

 And the shuddering, quick breaths of a frightened child, eyes wide in the unknowing and uncaring fall of night.

 The child lingering in the dim doorway, peeking through a crack in the door, couldn’t have been more than five years of age, though it was difficult to say, as she looked smaller and more frail than any child her age should be; her dark, choppy hair was held back in a messy, dirty ponytail that looked as though it had never seen a brush, her clothes ratty, old, too large, and far too threadbare for the frost nipping at the single, moonlit window high above the maze of odds and ends filling the attic space.

 Everything about the girl was thin and weak, but for her almost too large, widened eyes. Her irises held a strangeness to them, catching the moon’s light in a shade that looked almost golden, and sparked with odd magic; as she looked about the boxes and dusty coverlets with clear anxiety, clutching at the doorknob under hand, the darkness seemed to be no burden to her, and despite the impossibility… the path of her gaze seemed almost to glow.

 The little girl’s name was Aliza, and she was not supposed to be there, in more ways than one.

 She pulled at the frayed ends of her baggy sweater’s sleeves, lips parted as she panted out tiny, foggy breaths and jumped at every sound, every gust of wind and creak of the old, decrepit house around her; she seemed to be searching for something, though was completely disinterested in the crates and furniture before her as she, at last, pushed past the door and crept one, shuffling footstep forwards at a time.

There were many places in the house she wasn’t allowed to go, gramma’s room, the basement, the porch, the yard, the kitchen, the living room during the evening, sometimes the bathroom… but she had been told, many, many times, to never, ever go into the attic. It was dangerous, gramma had said, and none of her business.

 And Aliza had always been okay with that. It looked boring and dirty anyways. She’d never been curious enough to venture inside, to open the door, or to even peek inside for more than a moment when gramma was getting something. She’d been perfectly happy to ignore it.

 But Ruby never had been.

 The little girl swallowed hard, cautious, glowing eyes darting back to the slightly ajar door as it creaked on its rusty hinges, her body stilling like prey on the run; Gramma was asleep, on the ground floor at that, but there was a chill, persistent and nagging, zipping along Aliza’s spine that she did not like in the least… like there was something      wrong    , and she couldn’t see it.

 She’d always trusted that instinct, as it had saved her from punishment and danger before, but there was nothing for it this time. She had to find Ruby before she could leave, curl up under her blankets, and pretend this had never happened. She couldn’t leave her here… she couldn’t sleep without her.

 So another step slid forwards… another icy breath snuck from chapped lips. Bony fingers dug into frayed cotton, and golden eyes swept towering piles of boxes and piles of moth eaten clothes in torn plastic bags.

 “Wooby… pwease come out, it’s- it’s scawy…” the girl whimpered under her breath, voice as thin a willow reed permeating the dark in a way that sent the chills into overdrive (no no no… shadows didn’t move, nothing there, no); almost in answer, another flash of scarlet lit up a narrow passage through the mess, brighter yet than even the first, and Aliza, catching her breath, cast one last look back at the cracked door, and the silent house beyond it, hesitating visibly, before hurrying towards the already dimming light, squeezing through the crack in the boxes nimbly.

 It led into another, almost identical causeway of boxes and crates, rising precariously towards the wooden ceiling on a prayer. There was old, splintering furniture on this row (a broken side table, a wardrobe covered in scratches, one door ajar, a molding armchair piled with rusting beer cans), thicker dust on the rough floorboards, and high above, perched on one of the newest looking boxes of the lot, was a glowing, glittering, vermillion butterfly.

 Aliza sucked in a breath at the sight of the insect, though not in surprise, as any other would at the appearance of such an oddity; in fact, her little face narrowed, her brows lowering and her hands, almost completely hidden by her sleeves, propping on her hips. She looked as severe as she possibly could, eyes flashing the between gold and, it seemed at least, the same red that the butterfly was illuminated with.

 “Wooby, come down now! We have to go befow gwamma wakes up!” she scolded in an undertone, about as firm as the pile of boxes she was standing beside, and in response, the glowing butterfly, seeming to have been dubbed Ruby by the child, merely flapped its wings, unphased by the girl’s demand.

 The girl’s shoulders drooped immediately, all fight going out of her in a rush, and, with a sigh, pouted her lower lip out in a last ditch attempt to sway the strange insect.

 “Pwease?”

 Another flap of the wings, unanswered and unmoved, the girl’s plea falling on a deaf audience; she seemed unsurprised, merely huffing and halted the wobbling of her lip before looking around herself for something. Her posture righted as she seemed to spot what she had been searching for, and disappeared for a moment around the edge of a large, torn cardboard box.

 There was the quiet shuffle of a blanket slipping to the floor, and the sound of wood scraping against wood; the butterfly, high above, perked her antennae in the direction of the noise, obviously curious, before Aliza reappeared, tugging at the edge of a three legged, cracked side table, its surface stained with rings, dark stains, and lines in the dust from little fingers.

 Straining and puffing out tiny breaths of ice, the child painstakingly dragged the damaged table against the stack of crates the butterfly was perched atop, a stray strand of her hair sticking to her forehead and her tiny eyebrows beetled in concentration; the tip of her tongue extended past her lips as she, with one final push, seemed happy with the table’s positioning before, following a moment bent at the waist to catch her breath, she scrambled atop the dangerously leaning piece of furniture, swaying slightly along with its movements to keep balance.

 After a moment of stillness, letting the table settle under her weight, Aliza, dusty, tired, and more than a little weary of her friend’s games, stretched up on her tiptoes to reach for the now flashing, pacing butterfly above her, who looked about as concerned as a butterfly was capable of, the agitated flap of her wings sending shadows and flashes of light dancing across the attic walls and piles of boxes.

 The stretch of the child’s fingers gathered more dust the higher she reached; it drifted down in feathery flakes, layering her hair and shoulders and averted face. The letters on the side of the box under her hands, revealed by her increasingly more desperate grasp, went unnoticed, however, her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to rid them of a particle of dust.

 She wouldn’t have known what to make of the word ‘  Frisk  ’ in any case… she couldn’t understand her letters, much less words or names.

 The winds outside the house were gathering power, and brewing into a storm. A bright, burning flash of lightning lit up the large, crowded attic space a pale, candescent blue. A resounding crack of thunder shook dust and plaster from the roof, making the little girl, fingertips only centimeters from her quarry, jump in shock at the rolling, deafening sound.

 A gasp shattered the air, as darkness fell again, and another crack, wooden and filled with doom, resounded around the shadowed room.

 The table let out an ominous creak. The top tilted dangerously, and little fingers scrabbled at the box beneath them, looking for purchase that just wasn’t there. Gravity kicked in, the cruelest foe in a contest of will and nature, and dragged the girl, the table she had been standing on, and the topmost box of the pile to the plywood flooring, the crash of falling objects again disturbing the silence of the house around them all.

 By some miracle, Aliza herself had managed to roll out of danger’s path, silent and still beneath the toppled form of a styrofoam clothing mannequin, and peered out into the settling mess with fear and horrid anticipation freezing her blood into stone; surely gramma had heard that, it had been      so loud    , she was going to be in trouble, so much trouble, she’d broken things...

 It had been an accident, but gramma hadn’t cared last time either, why hadn’t she just gone back to her room-

 Her breaths were ragged and fearful (though no longer icy; they seemed almost to steam, melting the frost in the air and singing the styrofoam of the mannequin), her hands shaking and her eyes burning a bright, piercing scarlet in her obvious petrification… but the longer she sat there, the wind outside the house howling and the thunder and lightning cracking around the roof above… the more she began to think that, in all possibility…

 The storm had hidden the noise. Maybe she hadn’t heard after all.

 After waiting nearly ten minutes, mostly spent rocking in place and hugging her knees, Aliza finally gathered the courage to crawl out of her hiding place and stand on wobbly, slightly scuffed knees; if gramma had heard, she’d have come up by now, even with how long it took her to climb stairs.

 Her breathing was calming. Her breath was no longer scorching the ends of her askew hair, again gathering crystals of ice from the air. Her eyes had gone through all the stages of crimson and gold and settled into a sparkling azure as it moved from the yawning doorway into the hall and to the mess she had made on the floor, the top of the crate that had fallen askew and its contents spread across the floorboards.

 It appeared to be mostly papers, big folders (she thought she had heard gramma call them… vanilla folders, before, big and yellow with little clips on the bendy part) full of documents and notes… a few pictures here and there. There were several glass containers, some broken… there was a little wooden box too, fancy and gilted and, from a crack in its lid, filled with something shiny (her palms itched, wanting badly to open it), and almost everything, besides the little box, was covered in little red stickers or written on in bold red marker.

 Something about the contents of the box, the bright red stickers and big red letters she couldn’t read, made her think she should put it all back into the box, push it into a corner, and forget she had ever seen it. The hairs on the back of her sweaty, dusty neck were standing up, and the sense of danger that had saved her before was telling her to      run    .

 But one of the pictures in the box stopped her, as Ruby, appearing almost as though out of thin air, crawled across it. It halted her feet as she shuffled closer to the haphazard mess, and froze her the beat of her heart in her chest.

 It was a picture she shouldn’t have known, had never seen before… but she did. She knew the person in it, had seen her in the pictures gramma would show her when she was having a very, very sick day… and even as tears rose to fog her vision, as hiccups faltered her breaths and shook her fingers… she still reached out to pick it up from the mess at her feet, holding it tenderly, like the most treasured thing she had ever possessed.

 “Mama…”

 The fallen crate could later be found pushed into a remote corner of the attic, cracked lid set as firmly as possible on top and covered with a dusty sheet. The table that had toppled was likewise hidden, and any trace of the happenings of that evening, from the burns on the mannequin to the little fingerprints on the boxes, were wiped away.

 The crate itself, though, was completely empty, now. It’s contents were hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the small room Aliza called home, every paper, folder, photograph, and note stashed away neatly. The single unbroken glass container was concealed in the back corner of her beaten up wardrobe, wrapped in a motheaten sweater, and the box, the beautiful box and the treasure within, she kept in her pile of blankets, to be admired and cherished every night and moment she was locked away in her little prison.

 It would take four more years before she discovered the purpose of the glass container, and another, to grow enough for the bracelet in the beautiful box to stop sliding off her wrist so readily (though, even almost seventeen, it still fell off). It took one more, to know and understand what had happened to the beautiful, sad woman in the photographs, and yet another to fully compile all the papers into what she began to call the Journal.

 Even when she began her journey, though, through all her years reading it, she never discovered what the red words and stickers on the folders and papers had meant.

 ‘Memetic’, ‘Paranormal’, and ‘Cryptid’ had meant nothing to her, after all, in comparison to the opportunity to know the most important person in her life, even long after she was gone.

#axetober #dayone #forbiddenknowledge #aliza #ruby #discovery

[howfarethestars]

All That is Due (Will be Due in Due Time) 

read on AO3 

Thor’s nursery had a wide, circular window on the far wall that bathed the room in sunlight during the day and moonlight during the night. Creamy white curtains framed the edges, giving the room a heavenly glow. It had been Frigga to request it. She had always preferred natural light, she felt it connected indoors and out in a way nothing else really could. 

She was with him there now, under that same window. Frigga watched, a smile dancing on her lips, as Thor toddled across the floor in front of her. She sat with her legs thrown out beside her, the flowing blue fabric of her dress pooled around her leg as if it were liquid. Her son giggled as he stumbled towards her. He reached out with chubby arms and fingers. Frigga’s hands met his. Thor gripped her fingers as tight as he could manage. 

“Mama,” he said, bright eyes trained on his mother’s face. A toothy smile lit up his sweet face. In fact, Frigga was hard pressed to remember a time when her boy wore a frown. “Up?”

Frigga obliged him and lifted him into her arms. Pressing him against her chest, she wrapped him in her embrace. Her slim fingers threaded through his blonde curls. Her eyes drifted shut as she idly hummed an old shanty she knew from days she could not quite remember. Her fingers stilled, and her voice fell when she felt magic buzz in the air. She tilted her head. Thor was young to have such a strong seidr, was she sensing something else? Someone else? 

With Thor still nestled in her arms, she prodded the energy. Her brows furrowed deeper. It was Thor’s seidr she felt. The power was so similar to her own. It was more…rambunctious than that of the queen’s, more wild. Untamed like the lightning she knew Thor would one day command. But underneath all that there was a calm—the steady pulse of seer abilities. 

Frigga smiled to herself. Her golden boy, a seer. Odin wouldn’t be thrilled, no, but she was. Oh, she was. It was no matter what her husband would say or think. She would just have to convince him that Thor’s abilities would only help him and Asgard, not harm them. So long as Thor was able to grow in his abilities, he would be safe. Frigga shuddered to think what would happen if Thor’s powers went unchecked, untrained. But she wouldn’t let that happen, no. She would train him and keep his powers from hurting him or others. 

She hoisted Thor over her head. “Ha! My boy,” she said, bringing him down to kiss his cheek, “you’re going to be such a great seer. I know it. I feel it.”

Thor giggled again, just happy that his mum was tossing him about. His hair a halo around his head with the sun beaming down on it, Thor plopped his hands on his mother’s cheeks, delighting in the squish against his fingers. Frigga pressed her lips to his curls. The joy in her chest bubbled like champagne. 

There that joy stayed, unmovable, lodged in her chest, until the news crossed her lips to Odin’s ears. 

She might as well have told him Thor had pledged his loyalty to Laufey himself. 

The throne room was silent save for the thunderous pounding of Frigga’s heart in her chest. The sliver of light that lived in the Allfather’s eyes burned out. Anxiety twisted like a dagger in Frigga’s belly. Odin hadn’t yet spoken a word, and still Frigga felt the need to protect Thor. 

“Thor will not practice anything but battle,” Odin barked, his voice like a sharp breeze. In a flash, he was on his feet and heading down the stairs of the throne room to stand in front of his wife. He grabbed Frigga’s wrists and squeezed just a little too tight. “I’ll see to it.” 

Chills swept over the all-mother’s arms as Odin pushed past her. But, she would not stand frozen. She rushed after her husband, her arms outstretched in a vain attempt to stop him. With a flick of the king’s wrist, two guards stepped in front of the exit, blocking Frigga’s way out of the throne room. 

Tears stung her eyes as she thrashed in their arms. “Let me go, I demand it!” she shouted, beating her fists against the impenetrable armor of the guards. 

Odin disappeared down a corridor, far from Frigga’s reach and sight. The queen slumped to the ground, her cheeks wet, hands shaking and bruised. Physically, Thor was out of her reach, but maybe not magically. She shut her eyes and called on her seidr. Frigga was a powerful witch, but not powerful enough to stop Odin entirely. She could, however, weaken his spell so that one day Thor’s powers might return to him. 

The guards, loyal to the king but sympathetic to the queen, stood by without challenge when Frigga’s hands started to glow. She whispered spells in her native language, letting her seidr flow through the air to where Thor played with his nanny. 

“I’m sorry I could not do more, my son,” Frigga cried, her voice hoarse and quiet. 

“I can only hope you one day find your abilities on your own.” 

A millennia later… 

The quinjet was the height of luxury, top of the line, the most advanced aircraft Midgard had to offer. Or so Thor was told. It seemed crowded to him. Maybe it was because the Avengers were so tightly packed into the small area outside the cockpit. Thor longed for a bit of solitude, even if it meant hiding in the restroom for hours on end. Thor was considering it, actually. He turned his gaze to the little room in the corner, then back to his teammates. 

Bruce was lying on the floor shivering despite the loose sweatshirt he wore, Natasha was sitting with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tight around her shins, her eyes far away and clouded with tears, Steve paced the short distance from wall to wall, wringing his hands together. 

So much pain. So, so cramped. 

Thor took a gulp of oxygen and rushed to the bathroom. A hoard of buzzing insects swarmed under his skin and in his head and across his vision. His whole body was on fire. He leaned against the sink, his hands gripping the sides hard enough to bend the metal. 

This was that witch’s doing, Thor guessed. Her powers had done this to him. But no one else seemed to be so affected. Perhaps he was cursed. He looked up at his reflection. He didn���t look cursed. What does one look like when cursed? 

Turning on the faucet, Thor sighed. He dipped his hands under the cool water and splashed it on his face. It didn’t do anything more than soak the front of his uniform. His whole body was still abuzz. 

Three short knocks came in rapid succession at the door. 

“You okay, Thor?” Steve asked, his voice muffled. 

Thor stepped back, dragging his hands down his face. “I’m fine,” he lied, staring at himself in the mirror again. He was shaking from head to toe, sweating bullets, looking like he could collapse at any second. “I’m coming out now.”

There was a shuffle behind the door; Steve stepping away, Thor guessed. Pulling himself together as best he could, he opened the door. Steve’s arms were folded over his chest, his brows drawn, his lips pursed. 

Thor flashed a shaky smile. “Did you need something?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay,” Steve replied smoothly, “You don't look okay.” 

Thor’s face fell. There was no fooling the captain, it seemed. “I’m sure it’s just a side effect,” he said, shrugging. 

Steve’s face twisted in confusion. “What’s a side effect?”

“The shaking...are the rest of you not shaking as well?” 

Steve grabbed Thor’s wrist and lifted his hand up to his face. It trembled still, even locked in Steve’s grip. Worry swooped in Thor’s belly. “Thor, how long have you been like this?” 

“Since the witch attacked us.” Thor tugged his hand away from Steve and wrapped his arms around his middle. Heat rushed to his cheeks, but not from embarrassment. Fever, maybe? “Is it hot in here?” 

“No,” Steve said flatly. “When we get to the safe house, you need to be checked out.”

Thor gave a hearty chuckle, the kind to make the vikings of old proud. “It’ll pass, Steve. I’ll be f—“

A blizzard flashed across Thor’s vision. Whatever forces holding him up vacated the quinjet, and he collapsed. Steve yelped, struggling under the sudden weight of a thunder god. His boots slipped back, but he righted himself. 

“Tony!” Steve shouted, “Come quick!”

Tony appeared in the corridor in a flash, his eyes wide. “What happened?”

Thor wondered the same thing. His vision grew steadily worse, clear sharp imagery faded to a blurred reflection of reality. There was an invader in his mind, clawing Thor’s control to shreds. Something wished to take over as desperately as Thor wished to hold on. 

His gaze turned up to Steve, but instead of finding the captain staring back, an entirely different scene appeared before him. 

The sky exploded above him, white hot flames and metal shattered the quiet calm above the alps. The air, once cold with altitude, was a furnace on Thor’s skin. It burned, Thor screamed. Shrapnel, rocks, dirt, cement fell around him. Thor tumbled from the sky like Icarus. Unconsciousness settled in on him. What had he done? 

The vision was over just as abruptly as it began. Steve and Tony hovered over Thor once more. The former gently lowered Thor to the floor. Thor’s head lolled to the side, his flushed cheek pressing against the cool metal. His vision was blurry, head swimming, and limbs useless. He managed shallow and shaky breaths but little more. 

Tony cupped the back of his head, his thumb gently massaging Thor’s temples as Steve rummaged through a bright red medpack at his side. Thor shut his eyes, focused on breathing. He saw destruction, death, last resorts. A whimper escaped his lips. 

“No,” he mumbled, his brows drawn. Tony shushed him, then told something to Steve. Thor couldn’t even hear. Those images, they matched onto his soul,siphoning his strength and sanity with reckless abandon. “No, please, no.”

A sharp prick in his arm, a drug that could fell a full sized bull flooded his veins. Thor didn’t struggle. The shaking didn’t stop until darkness replaced the visions in his mind. The sky fell in shards around Thor as he collapsed to the ground. He saw Steve above him, and then flames licking at the clouds, and then nothing. 

…

Electric blue lightning clouded his vision. Shouts echoed in the air, but Thor paid them no mind. Mjolnir slammed into the metal beneath him, charging the chamber with unmatched power. Something lied below the chamber with crimson skin and a jewel embedded in its forehead. Thor looked up to see his teammates, joined by the witch and a boy with silver hair, staring in horror at what he’d done. Tony looked shocked but not as angry as the rest. He stared, not at Thor, but what Thor had created. Despite the team’s stares of indignation and anger, Thor felt zero remorse. Light burst from the chamber, and—

Thor awoke with a startled gasp. His breath caught in his throat as the vision shook him loose. The scene melted around him, revealing an unfamiliar room with soft pink walls filled with late golden afternoon light. His brows furrowed. Confusion replaced terror. He turned his head. Tony sat slumped in a chair beside the bed, snoring softly, looking a few seconds away from falling to the floor. 

Thor sat in silence, in thought. The sun was warm on his skin, despite the chill in his soul. He was plagued by visions of haunting futures. He wished with everything in him that these visions were simply tricks by an evil sorceress. But, deep down, Thor knew they were not. They were real, tangible, unchanging promises of what was to come. 

Thor remembered his mother well. Her laugh, her smile, the way it felt to be held in her comforting embrace. His mother had been a seer, one of powerful Venir ancestry. While her power was more often used in solitude, when war might come or when other threats awaited Asgard.

But Thor remembered one instance. He’d been small, though he couldn’t recall his exact age. His mother had a vision. Her whole body had gone stiff, her skin was cold, her eyes were glassy. It had frightened Thor deeply, to see her space out the way she had. The way she looked at him after it passed frightened him deeper still. He wondered now if she’d seen his future, perhaps her own. 

Maybe she’d seen this exact moment, of her son contemplating his own abilities. Maybe she’d seen what would come after. Maybe she’d seen something else, something more terrifying than this moment or any of the ones that had come before. Thor shuddered to think of it. To think he’d inherited her terrible, beautiful curse of a power. 

But though he feared it, he knew that he had. The power lived in him, buzzing under his skin, pulsing in his veins. As foreign as the power felt, Thor knew it was just unsettled. For whatever reason, Thor had not shown the abilities early. 

Wait. 

The witch. Her powers. Whatever she’d done, it unleashed Thor’s own abilities. Thor swallowed thickly, a frown on his lips. He’d heard of magic being bound before, but normally for small children who couldn’t control it yet. If his own magic had been bound, too, then that begged countless questions. If Thor’s abilities had been repressed, who had repressed them? And more importantly—why? 

Thor could’ve sat on that bed for hours had Tony not woken. A little indignant noise made its way from his throat, like he was annoyed with himself for waking up. His big brown eyes popped open, and he stretched his whole body like a cat, arms raised over his head and toes pointed as straight as a ballerina’s. 

“You’re up, I see,” Tony commented as he retracted back into himself. “Feeling better?”

“I had another vision,” Thor said instead of answering the question. “I saw you in it.”

Tony straightened in his seat. “Oh, yeah?” he asked casually, but Thor heard the slightest waiver in his voice. 

“Nothing bad,” Thor said, shaking his head. He shifted in the bed, pulling his knees close to his chest. “I believe we had made something together.” 

“Like an arts and crafts type deal?”

“Like...a weapon.”

“Oh, lovely.”

Thor ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t describe what I saw, not well. It was cloudy, fuzzy. But you were there. All I know…” Thor sighed, “Whatever I did. Whatever we did. I didn't regret it. Even though the team didn’t seem thrilled about it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment. Thor didn’t press him. It would’ve been strange to be told you were a part of some future you had no control over. So Thor let Tony think. After a while, Thor guessed Tony was not going to speak, so he changed the subject. 

“Where are we, anyway?” Thor asked, glancing out of the window above the bed he’d woken in. Beyond it there was a bright green landscape of long grass and wildflowers. Goats grazed in a pen beside a faded red barn. A farm, then. But who…

“Clint’s brother’s farmhouse,” Tony explained, though it wasn’t much of an explanation since it only raised more questions. Tony was a smart man, though, and he answered Thor’s next question before it had even crossed his lips. “No, I didn’t know Clint had a brother either. And no, I don’t fully trust the guy. But here we are in his house, and I don’t think we’ve got room to complain.”

Thor hummed. “Does Clint’s secret brother have food on his secret farm?” 

“He does indeed.”

…

The following days passed in a blur. Thor fought through his waking hours to not succumb to his uncontrollable powers, and tossed and turned through the night when he couldn’t stop the visions from coming. He helped the team as best he could with planning their upcoming battle, and forced himself to ignore what his visions told him about the future. They did not need to know every detail of how the young quickster would die, nor did they need to know that Nick Fury would be their surprise savior in the end. Thor lied and told them that his visions were hard to understand and not worth examining. It shut them up, at least. 

The battle came. Thor’s many visions came to fruition. Ultron was defeated and the team regrouped and settled in at the new compound. Tony offered Thor a room, but Thor declined with a promise to return whenever he could. With a sharp crack of thunder and an explosion of color, Thor left Midgard and headed to Asgard, where he could find his long-awaited answers. 

“Heimdall!” Thor shouted before the warm glow of the bifrost had even died around him. He rushed towards the gatekeeper, his arms open wide. Heimdall locked him in a tight embrace. Thor felt as if he were a young child again, finding comfort in Heimdall’s presence after his tutor was too boring or Odin had scolded him too harshly. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, as well. At least in person, anyway,” Heimdall laughed. His eyes softened as he took in Thor’s weary appearance. “We have much to discuss.”

Thor‘s face fell. The air shifted; the reunion was no longer as happy. “Aye. We do.”

Heimdall and Thor turned towards the rainbow bridge and Asgard beyond it. Shivers ran down Thor’s spine. Hard as he’d fought to ignore them, Thor still had to blink away the visions he’d seen of his beloved home up in flames. He saw the pristine bifrost beneath his boots turn blood splattered and cracked, he saw the distant golden palace fall to fire and ash. 

Thor shook his head, pulling his focus back to the present. He desperately hoped that Heimdall would have answers for him, ones that meant the visions he’d seen were just his imagination, that there was nothing to fret about. But even as he thought it, he knew that it was wishful thinking. Half of his visions had already come true: Sokovia’s destruction, Vision’s creation, and on and on. This was his life now. His abilities had been unlocked. Wild and uncontrolled as they were, they were his. He would have to take them and adjust to them just as he would to anything else. 

“I must warn you, Thor,” Heimdall said, breaking Thor’s rather dark train of thought, “The Allfather will not be pleased with your rediscovered abilities. It will be wise to avoid him, if possible.”

Thor nodded. He’d already guessed as such. His father, though he was sensitive to Seidr himself, did not look fondly on magic users. He much preferred battles of blade or fist to those of spell or potion. Thor had once been like him, but time had much changed the prince. He now saw the value of magic—his own and others’. 

“Noted. How has Asgard been, then? With the...affairs and such.” 

Heimdall stopped. The action itself demanded Thor to stop alongside him. Thor’s words died on his lips as a calm hush fell over the two men. They stood in the middle of bifrost, a sharp wind billowed their capes and hair, the sea below them crashed and made hearing difficult. Heimdall spoke nonetheless. 

“Thor, we’ve known each other for too long for small talk. I know why you’re here.” Heimdall shifted his weight and folded his arms over his chest. “You want answers.”

Thor nodded. “I do.” 

“The answers you seek will not be easy to hear. Your magic was bound for reasons that won’t be easy to explain. Do you understand?”  

Thor’s stomach clenched, but he agreed nonetheless. “I do.”

“Then let’s go somewhere we will not be heard.”

…

The deepest vaults of Asgard’s libraries had likely not been touched in centuries. A thick layer of dust, cobwebs, and dead insects coated the tables and shelves of the abandoned study. Thor grimaced at the sight. Heimdall didn’t flinch. He moved through the freezing halls with precision and decidedness. 

“This study was not always abandoned,” Heimdall began. An air of solemnity fell over his face, his tone shifted from conversational to something much more serious. “It was once home to the royal sorcerer. Can you feel the seidr in the air, boy?”

Thor paused. He let his eyes drift shut, his mind clear, and yes, there it was. Pulsing steady underneath the age and decay. Magic. Thor’s eyes popped back open, and he grinned. 

“I felt it,” he said, as excited as a young boy being presented a gift, “I felt it, Heimdall.”

Heimdall’s smile was brief. “Odin decided the sorcerer was unnecessary, and banished him from the palace,” he continued. He walked to the back of the room, where a bookshelf, loaded so that the wood had begun to bow in the middle, stood. His eyes roamed the shelf, his fingers running gently over the spines. He pulled back the thickest book, and the bookshelf spun to reveal a hidden room. This time, the room did not appear abandoned. The seidr pulsed as loud and present as a heartbeat. Eternally burning torches cast long shadows on the small room. In the middle of the room, there was a soul forge, much like the one the sorceresses used, but different in a way Thor couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“It was crafted for Bor himself,” Heimdall explained, brushing his hand over the cool stone of the top. He looked back at Thor. “It works only for those of his bloodline.”

Thor stepped forward. “Right, well,” he said, his voice shaky. The bookshelf slammed shut, and he jumped a foot into the air, muscles taunt, breathing heavy. 

Heimdall chuckled. “Relax, Thor,” he said, squeezing his shoulder, “Have a seat. I’ll explain everything.”

Eyeing the bookshelf warily, Thor made his way to the soul forge and sat on its edge. Heimdall rested his weight against a table top across from Thor. For a second, neither spoke, then Heimdall cleared his throat and began to give Thor the answers he wanted. He told him of Frigga’s elation at discovering a young Thor’s abilities, of the excitement that Heimdall hadn’t needed Allsight to see. Thor smiled at that, even though tears stung his eyes. Anger quickly replaced that bittersweet warmth in his chest when Heimdall explained how Odin had taken Thor’s abilities, despite Frigga’s demands. 

Anger flashed in Thor’s eyes. He slid off the soul forge and slammed to the floor. Fists clenched at his sides, he growled, “Where is he?” 

“Calm down,” Heimdall ordered, his hands outstretched in front of his chest to stop Thor if he needed to. Thor was wound up like a spring, with fury coursing through his veins. Heimdall pressed his hands against the prince’s chest, forcing him back to the forge. “I know you’re angry, but going up there now with your magic so unstable and dangerous would only prove Odin’s point.”

Thor felt himself deflate. His anger simmered and fall flat. Heimdall was right, and Thor told him as such. He sat back on the soul forge, letting his feet dangle over the edge. “What should we do, then? How do I control my…”

Thor’s voice broke off. The warmth in his cheeks drained, and chills swept over his arms. He cursed as his body began to tremble. He turned tired, scared eyes to Heimdall, who rushed to his side. 

“Breathe, Thor,” Heimdall said, guiding him down against the soul forge, “Just breathe.”

Thor did that, focusing on inhaling and exhaling and not on his complete physical discomfort. Over the past few days, Thor had taken to letting the premonitions come as they like instead of fighting them. No matter how deeply they terrified him or how desperately he wanted to avoid what they entailed, it was less painful to submit. 

He slipped into lucidity, resting on the edge of conscious and unconscious. He was only just aware of Heimdall powering up the soul forge before his vision pulled him completely under, and he lost touch with the present. 

The infinity stones again, this time drawn with a cartographer’s precise hand. They were painted nicely, the colors not as faded by time as the other maps Thor had come across. Sadly, Thor was not evaluating the map for beauty, he needed it for legitimacy. In his search for the infinity stones, he’d come across countless false maps. This one was promising, though. It had the locations of the mind, space, and reality stones correct. The power stone, it claimed, was being held on Xandar. If true, Thor didn’t have to worry about that one. The soul stone’s location was listed simply as unknown. Thor slid it back to the merchant and shook his head. 

Thor returned with a sharp gasp. His heart beat erratically in his chest, but one look at Heimdall’s calm and focused expression, and he felt his nerves calm. His apt fingers shifted matter above Thor’s head. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Exhaling long and slow, Thor reached up and ran his hands over his face.He lay there for a moment, washed in the soft amber glow of the energy that swam above him, thinking that the color reminded him of Heimdall’s eyes. Heimdall didn’t bother him. Instead, he worked in silence, poking and prodding at the light. Thor was grateful for the momentary reprieve. 

“I’ve never understood how these things work,” Thor said after he’d recovered, “Are you...reading all that?”

Heimdall smiled. “I’m examining your seidr,” he explained. He pointed to a strand of mist that wasn’t orange like the rest, but instead an electric blue. “That’s your ability to summon lightning. And this grey bit is weather manipulation.”

“What’s my seer abilities, then?”

Heimdall moved the mist around a bit, then revealed a shifting mass of deep red, angry magic. Thor’s eyes widened at the sight. His heart plummeted. The crimson energy infested everything around it, violently turning the warm and gentle orange to furious garnet. 

“This is what uncontrolled magic does to your soul,” Heimdall almost whispered,  “You’ve never had the time to learn the limits of your magic. You don’t know how to control it, which is why it so violently takes effect.”

Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. Fear pooled in the pit of his belly like lead. His voice wavered when he spoke, “Am I going to be okay?”

Heimdall powered down the forge. He took his time. With slow, precise motion, he took Thor’s hands in his. “I promise you, you’re going to be just fine. Even I know that, and I can’t see the future.”

Emotion bubbled up in Thor’s chest. He sat up and fell into Heimdall’s arms as he lost the fight to keep from crying. Face buried in Heimdall’s shoulder, Thor felt himself relax for the first time since his power had been awakened. He took a shaky breath, and shut his eyes. 

And, he noticed with a smile, he only saw darkness. 

#my writing #fanfiction #thor fanfiction #thor odinson #frigga #thor #marvel #marvel fanfiction #seer! thor #thor fanfic #heimdall #tony stark #mcu #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #marvel fanfic #fanfic #thor headcanon #odin

[percysbluepizza]

Oh we ARE impertinent

okay since @annabetncnase asked for it, my big ole post, UNEDITED about the Lightning Thief Musical on Broadway. good luck to anyone who attempts to read this shit

ACT 1

Prologue/Day I Got Expelled

Alright so there is big boom lightning at the very very beginning of the show because Of Course there is? But it also comes with a huge flash of light, which startled liTERALLY everyone in the audience. Very fun, good use of technical effects. First guy on is James Hayden (Luke + Some) and he opens with the line. Then KRISTEN FUCKING STOKES (whom I have grown to ADORE) and the rest of the ensemble (Sally, Claiese, and Grover) come on and have this AMAZING choreography. They’re singing and all and then these curtains (which have been up and are on my pic) get pulled away from both sides by the whole onstage cast and CHRIS runs up and does this slide thingy to the very tippy top of the stage, where he sat for a moment, then turned to the audience and started. I about screamed and I’m not joking, he’s so expressive and such a great Percy (god I’m in love with him great work). As the song progressed, I was impressed by the ability with lighting use and all these cool stage tricks to have the Mrs. Dodds and also the pen/sword thing! Jorrel plays Grover so well, he’s so empathetic and caring toward Percy and I!!! So the whole story of him getting expelled is explained and god it is so fucking sad. Percy’s voice cracks. Percy’s fucking upset clearly and doesn’t understand and ouch…. ‘So if you think you are a half-blood’ is said so gently, and then THE DANCING. Chris can dance. Like well. Very well. So during ‘THis ain’t Odyssey’s Odyssey” he did a big ole kick and danced his heart out. SO good.

Strong

So obviously there’s some talking in between the first piece and this one, and there was a scene change when the lights went out and now they’re in Percy’s apartment with his mom and Gabe. Gabe is like… god you seem him and you loathe him bc he’s played so well. Percy sprays a chan of ‘aerosol’ at one point bc Gabe smells. And Chris just captures Percy’s compassion so well… He tells his mom that she doesn’t have to stay with Gabe and doesn’t deserve that and ugh so good. There are genuine blue marshmallows. and the way they did the little fire with the fog in the bucket and Percy’s mom’s comforting him hhh.

The Minotaur/The Weirdest Dream

The transfer to this scene/piece is very quick, Grover comes running in with a trash can over his head and he asks if Percy told Sally about the field trip and she said no and it was just a big mess of miscommunication. He basically gets to the point where he says the Minotaur is after Percy and holy shit. This boy is massive. And the design of it is insane and it’s got red eyes and wow. ‘I hope you’re really a SWORD” and he fight and it’s all just great. Sally goes away, Percy kills the beast and then ‘Don’t pass out…” Poseidon is in a tank top and a open Hawaiian shirt as well as flip flops and just “oh look, a man in a Hawaiian shirt’ He takes the seashell and is just the most confused. And then they bring in Annabeth, pushing her on one of those dolly things and she’s ‘floating’ and the whole thing is a big dream. Up until she tells him “You drool when you sleep” right and the thing is… the banner for CHB unfurls and the lights come back up and all of that and just it’s a true rude awakening. Then he looked around the camp and was so confused, Annabeth (beautiful, amazing, badass Kristin) started explaining what was happening and he had no clue. She then calls for Mr. D  

Another Terrible Day

I don’t think you guys realize how good Jorrel is. Maybe you do but we stan Jorrel. But he comes out dressed in not matching clothes with a bright button up (pink) and plaid shirt, suspenders. He’s angry. Percy explains that he has no clue what’s going and everything’s getting explained to him with the other demigods. The other demigods are so cute and I love them so much. And he’s yelling through a megaphone. Jorrel can do so many roles so well and he did a great job. “You’re a horse?!” also he just clops. Like it’s human legs. Clip clop bitch. With a tail.

Their Sign

Again the transition from the first song to this second one is really fast. Chiron’s comforting but god is Percy angry. I love that tbh. Chris is clearly upset and he feels for Percy. And he shows it. He’s upset and then Percy’s voice goes all soft… Love that. Luke starts being buddy-buddy and showing him that it’s gonna be alright. Supposedly.

Put You In Your Place

Fucking. Sarah. Goddamn. I can’t believe how good she is. We stan so hard. Her fit? Great. Her voice? Belted. Awesome. Annabeth truly out here though. SHe’s intimidating as fuck and she knows what she’s about. There’s so much cool battle choreo in this scene and it just looks great. There’s blocking and stabbing and it looks awesome. Also that guitar riff that she comes in with is rad. And then the bathroom thing. Great. Percy’s cornered and it clearly shows that his powers came as a last resort with stress and the way they flashed the blue lights is just great I love that so fucking much. And they’re asking about the way he figured out those powers and they’re freaked out. Cool shit. Also “The plan would have worked either way.” Holy fucking shit. Annabeth is fucking scary as hell. She gives zero fucks about Percy at the beginning

The Campfire Song

The way they made the campfire is so cool! Very techy. And I didn’t realize they’re sitting around the campfire eating dinner together as a camp. Very family much love I’m a big fan. They’re putting the food into the fire and then complaining and I love it. Percy’s so sweet trying to talk about his mom and then come back around once they tell him what’s going on. Also they have a cute dance they do together. SO unified and lovely. And then THE FUCKING SIGN COMES. Percy’s sign. The whole thing. They’re looking and he’s like “Is that a fork?” “I’m the Son of Poseidon? sweet!) Everyone freaks out when they’re sure he’s a son of Poseidon. Percy is told to go see the “Mummy in the attic” “That’s old people talk for Mom, right?” Cue the Oracle.

The Oracle

This sounds so dumb but kinda like… found the Oracle impressive. Spooky. 10/10 Also… side note… Chris plays Percy with a lot of random mannerisms and movement and it’s really quite fun to watch. Anyway the Oracle is big spooky and she’s in a huge dress and she’s pointing to him and it has all the people who are in the next scene sitting there underneath and moving the dress. Big cool. And the vocals! Sis can sing. And it’s just beautiful bc then Percy has to see Mr. D and Chiron, the first of whom wants to turn Percy into a dolphin. “Percy you have no choice.” “You’re expelling me again?” Basically Percy is getting kicked out of camp bc of his unwillingness to do the quest. And there’s the transition to Good Kid my friends.

Good Kid

Guys oh fuck. Oh shit. Chris just really came out here to kill with the vocals tonight. And My heart? He kinda does a fist thing toward what would be the Big House and walks off to sulk, starting the song and walking around being angry ugh. He climbs up the back of the stage (which is essentially scaffolding) and sits at the end to deliver the sad part of the line when everything goes piano-y and soft and essentially that’s him sitting at the docks at the lake and watching the water. Luke later finds him (“If you’re a son of Poseidon, don’t hide at the lake, that’s where everyone will look.” and talks to him about the quest, where they figure out his mom would be in the Underworld if she was anywhere. Also there’s a trident where Percy is the middle prong and the other two are blue and shine on him UGH yeah

Killer Quest

“Yeah I’ll do it!” Was delivered so well, so sweet and innocent. This kid just misses his mom. Also since when did Luke and Percy get a bro handshake? Grover shows up with a bunch of bags and says he’ll go too (Luke’s chilling in the background) and he gives him the official questing backpack. I think Luke leaves at this point to get some shoes. Annabeth is there with a bag telling him that she’s going too and that her mom will be excited and they’re all dancing together and god I’m so emotional. They dance and they all work as a team so well great work you guys. And the lights turn out with them starting their quest!

Lost

Return from intermission with a literal bang, as there are three demon triplet math teachers on the bus, with Percy on top and Grover and Annabeth inside. The driver’s screaming, they’re screaming, Percy hops off the top and then fights the fury outside and eventually… The bus explodes, with confetti raining over the audience. Awesome. The piece of paper is in Annabeth’s bag pocket actually. And Percy’s trying to be a reassuring friend to Grover, who’s freaking out, and he’s trying to keep Annabeth safe too… ugh great stuff. They move all together when they say “We’re lost in the woods” for the first time. Their priorities really become clear later in the song when they talk about what they’re wanting. Grover could not be more enthusiastic about the squirrel. Also this is the first time we see Annabeth laugh at Percy “I think that’s kind of nuts” is the line and she turns around to laugh into her hand. PURE AS HELL. Wandering aimless through the forest occurs for a minute longer until Percy decides. This point in the musical made me realize that these kids are young. Like 11 or 12. I love that. I felt that in this one. The kids go into Auntie M’s art studio. Annabeth’s asked to take a picture and she’s checking her hair in her dagger, meanwhile Percy’s getting a bad feeling now and Grover’s looking more and more intently at Uncle Ferdinand. Percy is then asked to join in. No camera you say? MEDUSA REVEAL. They do a big battle and Grover ends up picking up Percy and swinging him around to cut off Medusa’s head. Which gets thrown in her own fridge for the time being. Grover leaves.

My Grand Plan

Bitch. This was the moment I teared up a lot. She sat down and started singing and I felt. I FELT. I’m depressed as fuck at the moment and I started feeling things bc of this damn song. Kristin Stokes I love you. Anyway, she’s singing and Percy intently watches, and she’s telling the gods to Wise Up by pointing directly to the sky. SHe’s saying BITCH YOU WILL NOTICE ME. And the pain in her voice when she explains her family situation. The soft part? She’s talking directly to Percy and looking at him, telling him what’s going on. Dear god did I feel. I’m so proud of her my queen Annabeth Chase. She finishes explaining and Percy says: “No more fighting” and she says “Not between us anyway” and they shake on it. I love that. Then Percy decides to have a little fun with the gods and boxes up Medusa’s head. “THey’ll think we’re impertinent Percy.” “Oh, we are impertinent.” He writes both Annabeth and his own name on that box and ships it via the Hermes express. Grover comes back in. “While you guys were in here not solving all our problems, I found these!” “Three Amtrack tickets!?”

Drive

We boarding the train. WE singing. Life is dandy again. Percy sticks his hand in a dog cage and it bites him. They take a tractor which is scaffolding tied to a wheelchair which a guy pulls. They meet Bianca and then they meet Ares after arguing with each other. Cool guy. Also Percy looks so free and proud of himself when he’s on the back of the motorcycle “I mean, look at where I am!” He’s so PROUD holy shit. Also they all put one foot forward during the different lines god the Choreography so fucking cute dear lord. Anyway they’re going and going and they meet Bianca who’s got braids and then they move on!!! I love them! I’m proud. They take another bus. “This time we just won’t blow it up.” They’re sitting on the bus (or train not really sure) and all asleep. Percy’s dreaming now. And Annabeth and Grover are also sleeping. Each is on a chair and it’s kind of cute tbh.

The Weirdest Dream (Reprise)

Percy’s standing there in his dream and he’s very confused. This is ‘scary” and I love that. He’s standing and listening to the these people in his dream talking. Kronos is so fucking scary they literally make him scary. His voice is so deep and spooky and fuck man. Luke’s talking to him (downward, into a pit, technically on the top of the scaffolding) and he’s in a cloak and Kronos says Percy’s name and the lights flash all sorts of colors and then he’s back in his seat. Chris does a bunch of spins until he gets back to his seat and Grover’s shaking him awake, saying he was screaming. Annabeth can’t sleep either. Everyone’s on edge. Thalia’s name was mentioned in the dream and Grover sits up straighter and says he hasn’t heard that name in awhile.

Tree on the Hill

Oh shit this was so emotional. So Grover explains that he didn’t tell Percy this any sooner because he was afraid Percy might not want him to come. Big sad. But he starts the song and let me tell you I never felt like crying more. So Grover’s narrating this story and Percy’s listening on the train and above them, like with the main bridge, Annabeth, Luke and Thalia are slow mo acting out the details of the story until Thalia becomes a tree. Thalia is the same girl that plays Clarriese, and every other character almost omg. But when he’s explaining her turning into a tree, Annabeth and Luke stand behind Thalia and become the branches. So symbolic and so beautiful. Percy comforts Grover and then it’s the last stop.

DOA

THis song. At first I didn’t like it on the soundtrack. Skipped it. But goddamn what a bop. The sparkly dress, the funky tunes, the control of all of the kids so they all dance together. Also dying in a really big bathtub. Yeah. Real. The way they did the elevator with the lights moving in the background was actually super convincing and I Loved that. The dress sparkles all over and all the other background people are in cloaks are dancing too, including James who makes this beautiful jump I love it so much. But they’re all scared and cornered against the light and then have to reconvene together. They all get up from the ground frazzled and then Percy’s shoes start doing something weird. His feet start flying away from him and he’s confused and freaking out and all of a sudden they’re in front of the pit. Oh god the pit was so cool. I thought the feet were shaking and it’s so cool and and the pit literally looks like a pit. I know they’re looking into a light but it’s so scary! The shoes go down into the pit and the tartar sauce joke is made. I love this. SO scary. AND BOLT REVEAL. The line that Percy’s says “betrayed by a friend’ that accuses Annabeth after she pulls the bolt from his bag. I gasped. And then Hades comes around and he’s in a sparkly jacket and says he’ll have his friends and his mom back if he gives him the bolt and then gives them a chance to decide. Everyone walks off stage and he stands there and debates.

Son of Poseidon

Percy’s mom comes out and tells him that what belongs to the sea can always return. She does a little loop around him and he spins in a circle and follows her for a moment. He starts singing and GOD CHRIS. He’s realizing that he has the shell and all that. He blows the conch and a blue light shines on the right side of the stage, the PORTAL. They jump through the portal and they’re all excited that they survived. Standing on the beach and Percy pulled new shoes out and starts putting them on. He tells them that they’re his two best friends and he hugs them close and fuck man the original trio feels. They summon Ares. Ares comes out and he’s fucking ripped and got a pipe. A literal pipe. They start fighting and it looks like they’re losing, Annabeth lost her dagger (which was strapped to her thigh goddamn) and Grover’s down, Percy’s lost his sword. “Percy get to the ocean” He runs to the stage, Kristin and Jorrel run backstage and deliver the blowers with TP. “How about a lot of it!”He yelled and theres the music and he’s relishing the moment, Chris is just giving it his fucking all and there’s a lot going on and I just.. Was amazed beautiful. Great work cast. Ares is washed away and then Percy says: “You can escort us, back to camp.” They’re escorted back.

Last Day of Summer

Percy is standing there and he’s stunned essentially. What does he do now? He gets a letter from his mom with her newest sculpture and that she’s going to school. Annabeth passes him and talks to him about going home and she calls him Seaweed Brain. He and Luke battle when he accuses Luke of being the lightning thief. Luke fucking says yes right and then STABS HIM after trying to convince Annabeth to pick the right side (his side) and she disarms him but he takes a knife and stabs Percy. He runs away, Percy’s on the ground, Annabeth’s at his side and holding him. She’s giving him emergency ambrosia as he’s dying and he looks like he’s gone but then he comes back. She says Seaweed Brain and he says Wise girl and hugs him to her and SHIT man.

Bring on the Monsters

Percy motivates the camp. Tells them it’s real, shits getting real and they need to get ready. He’s got his sword and his fresh stab wound and he motivates them to get going, all of them sing and then Chris does his beautiful solo thing and stands in front with his sword and they’re all singing in the background. When he maintains his line on the bottom people are passing back and forth around him and touching his shoulder as they pass him and he yells excitedly back next summer at one point. And they all stand together in the back and the spotlight hits him as he says he’ll be back next summer and the guitar ends. damn.

The curtains come up and they’re all there taking bows and I love them. Main points: these boys flexible, they’re all doing kicks and all sorts of shit like that, jumping up and down and dancing as well as singing, I’m very impressed. also Chris plays Percy so well. He’s got all the things that were in my head for Percy for all the quirks and ADHD and UGH I love that. Kristin rocked my fucking world and Jorrel played every character so cleanly and had such great vocals. I love them. I love them all. The end.

If you made it to the end of this fucking long ass post send me an ask or a message bc I’m proud of you and you deserve a reward 

#julz talks #tlt musical #I am very emotional and in love with every single on of them #also... I wrote this right after the show so I was just FEELING my dudes