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offbrandmercyplates · 3 years

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I should put a title here but I don't know what to put AAA

Tumblr User invader-amethyst: *Has a Greek Gods AU headcanon*

Emmibee: “Hey fic writers, feel free to write—”

Me: *Throws self into the computer screen Super Mario 64 style* I’VE BEEN SUMMONED.

So, yep! invader-amethyst sent in an ask with a Greek Gods AU idea, and Emmibee gave it a stamp of approval. Thus, I wrote. This one actually took a few tries to get started, but I think I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. See you at the bottom!

***

The Unseen One’s Lesson on Loneliness

The Underworld, for the most part, was made up of stone tunnels and caverns that were bathed a deep blue by the numerous crystals on the walls and ceilings. The entrances to these tunnels and caverns often shifted around, by their own will or the will of their king, which created an infinite combination of paths to wander and explore. Condensation would drip from stalactites into little puddles that never grew or shrank, and the drips and drops echoed throughout the Underworld in a way that soothed some and unnerved most. The goddess of spring was part of the former.

Kore was currently sitting in a cavern with a floor of damp, loamy soil. It had been the first gift given to her by the god of death in person, rather than secretly left for her to discover.

She enjoyed feeling the soil with her hands, watching it fall between her fingers and smooth over her palms. She was, admittedly, a bit indecisive, and had yet to choose what she would grow in this new garden first. Since food was ample in the Underworld, flowers seemed to be the best option, but which flowers should she grow first? Should she start small, with some bushes of roses? Something thematically appropriate to the setting, like some branches of belladonna? So many choices, but which would be just right?

Hence why she was simply enjoying the sensation of dirt on her skin; damp enough to form a shape when pressed, but dry enough not to stick.

A slight tickling sensation on her smallest finger, buried under the soil, made her lift her gaze to see a pale, wriggling string crawl its way across the dirt. A worm friend!

Kore flipped onto her stomach and gently patted the worm. Mm, yes. This was some good soil her husband got her if there were worm friends to find.

The little worm stilled at her touch. Its back end lifted and made what looked like a “come here” gesture before it disappeared under the dirt.

Curious, Kore carefully dug a hole around the worm until she found a small, dead plant. She cradled it in her hands. It was a limp, vine-like stem with wrinkly brown tubes clustered along it. There were no roots, suggesting it had been plucked before being buried there.

Kore smiled. Here was her answer.

She closed her eyes and felt energy, warmth, and light pulse into the plant, which she lowered to the ground so it could take root. She let it stand on its own once it had the strength, and she could hear the soft crinkle of petals regaining their vigor.

She opened her eyes and admired the clusters of red tube-shaped flowers on the bush. It wasn’t very big at all, especially in this huge cavern, but the fiery red blossoms seemed to glow like a real fire in the cool darkness. “Erica flowers,” she said. Then, calling over her shoulder: “In the language of flowers, they mean ‘loneliness’. I don’t suppose you knew that, did you?”

There was a clattering sound, like a rock balanced on a stalagmite had been knocked over suddenly. Then Hades was standing next to her. “How did you know I was here?”

“I always know when you’re here,” she replied, tapping the blooms and watching them bounce slightly at her touch.

“I was wearing my Helm of Darkness. Not even a god can sense me when I wear it.”

“Good thing I’m a goddess, then, eh?”

“Kore…” he stopped himself, and she looked up to see him worrying at the handle of his golden staff.

“It’s okay,” she grinned up at him. “I like it when you call me by my name.”

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. She patted the ground beside her, and after a moment, he carefully lowered himself next to her. “The flowers of loneliness…” he hummed to himself.

“Why was it down here?” Kore asked.

“…I was out one day,” he replied, “working on the surface, when I came across a bushel much like this one. My… knowledge of flowers is limited, so flowers shaped like these were strange. I felt a strong draw to them, so I took a branch-full, only to remember too late that I can’t touch most living things. It died in my hand.” He stared hard at the flowers. “The flowers of loneliness,” he repeated. “I suppose it makes some sense.”

“What does?”

“We are alone when we die. A fitting end for a flower meant to symbolize this truth.”

Kore frowned. “Well…” she paused a moment. “I don’t know about that. Look at how many of them there are.” She took his boney hand and guided it to the cluster of red. “You can’t really say they’re alone when they’re bunched together like this. And even when you touched them, they all went together.” His fingertip brushed a blossom, and it didn’t wither. “So they might feel lonely, but they’re not actually as alone as they think they are.” Her hand closed around his and she looked into his eye sockets. “They’re not alone.”

The thrumming echo of dripping water rang in the silence as they looked at each other. Eye sockets, one closed and one wide open, stared into a pair of eyes full of life. His jaw bone was slightly slack, and her smile was warm and gentle.

After a moment, her smile turned a little mischievous. “So… why were you wearing your Helm of Darkness?”

Hades’ skull flushed. “I-it’s not strange for me to have it!”

“In your own territory?”

“I—! Well—! It… may be a habit at this point… when I watch you… it’s not creepy!”

“It isn’t,” Kore laughed. “It just means you’re shy.”

“The god of death is not shy!”

“The god of death is, however, someone who talks about himself in the third person.”

“That means the god of death knows that he’s important.”

The goddess of spring leaned lightly against her husband. “That, he is.”

“Strange woman.” He took a stronger hold of her hand.

“Stubborn old man.” She bumped his shoulder with her head.

***

A major inspiration for the flower I chose for this story came from the second Black Butler Musical, which featured a deep theme about Erica flowers and the loneliness of death. Erica flowers are also called heaths (which are different from but related to heather flowers), and after multiple Google searches, it seems the “fire heath” is the color that means loneliness. Most Erica flowers are white, purple, or pink, but those colors are generally more positive (purple does often mean solitude, though).

Roses, as we know, mean love, which would be perfect for Kore and Hades being in love (and married-ish?); and belladonnas are also called deadly nightshade, which is why it would have been thematic to the setting of the Underworld.

Kore calls Hades her husband, but I’m not actually sure if they’re married in our human sense of the term. Would they have an official “tying of the knot” or would it be more like just something they agree on that’s acknowledged by all the gods?

Where are all the spirits in the Underworld? … Ssh…

*points at the worm* WORM FRIEND! WORM FRIEND!

I originally wanted to include this somewhere in the story, but I imagine that Hades found the Erica flower the day before he saw Kore for the first time. Perfect timing!

Speaking of Hades and Kore, Hades would usually wear his Helm of Darkness when watching Kore from the shadows, and even though she’s bound to the Underworld now, the habit of feeling unseen is hard to break (he’s called the Unseen One for a reason, after all.) How is Kore able to sense him, even when most gods wouldn’t be able to? Perhaps something deeply entwines their souls, deeper than the magic of the helm.

Alright, I think those were the major things I wanted to say. With Ms. Emmibee’s permission, I’ll be posting this to my AO3 and FFN accounts soon. Thanks to invader-amethyst for sending out the spark for this story, and of course to Ms. Emmibee for coming up with this whole AU (and the AUs within that AU). I’ll see you around. Until then!

~~~~~

AAAAA I love this so much!!!!!!

1) I love how you always put meanings into the flowers!!

2) They’re definitely married in some sense; probably had a small, private ceremony with just them and some officiant. Or do gods need an officiant? They pretty much ARE the highest authority.

3) WORM FRIEND

4) I feel like Gaster is just going to be awkward no matter what universe he’s in. Sweet awkward man.

5) Please do post it! I can’t wait to see it!!!!!

Many thanks again for this wonderful story!!!

#OBMPfanfic #yours the author #also i love the 'stubborn old man' bit #so lovely #submission #greek gods au

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a-gay-bloodmage · 5 years

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—Balloons—

Pairing: Sera x Female Trevelyan

Pairing Type: F/F

Words: 1,280

Warnings: Just a Bunch of Magical Nonsense, Passive Little Mage has some Built Up Frustrations, and a Supportive and Enabling Girlfriend

"Are you sure, tadwinks?" Sera asked, whispering to the chubby mage holed up in the small area outside Cullen's office. "You're pretty goody-goody."

"Me?" Kiora laughed a little, lighting a hand up with dark purple magic. Sera instinctively tried to back away, but they were in pretty close quarters. "No, I'm just usually a little to lazy to do anything bad. That makes people think I follow the rules."

"Good point," Sera said back, nodding. "If you can't be bothered to break the rules, people think you want to follow 'em. Clever." Kiora smiled wide as she swirled a finger over her palm, making the purple flames churn like a fiery little whirlpool. "What's your plan then, your mighty Inquisitor-ness?"

Kiora had actually been the one to suggest a prank this time. Usually, she just sat back and waited for Sera to come running into her lap to play the sleepy-eyed, innocent, but she's been here the while time! card. Sera was excited and nervous that Kiora wanted to pull off her own little joke. Especially since it involved magic. Sure, Sera loved Kiora—and loved her a lot, too—but magic was just so... freaky. It was unpredictable and unnatural, but if it made Kiora happy, Sera would put up with it.

"Okay, so, see here?" She asked, gesturing to the center of the swirling flames. Inside was a weird, shimmery, mirror-like area, that after a closer look, turned out to be a window of sorts into Cullen's office.

"Is that a portal?" Sera asked, transfixed. "Like one'a those freaky elf-y mirrors?"

"Sort of," Kiora said, "but it's just a looking glass. Gives me a view into a room I planted magic in beforehand."

"You snuck into Commander Stuffy-Pant's office earlier?" Sera asked, impressed. "Why didn't you invite me?" She was a little miffed.

"I've had magic planted in every room for ages now," she said, shrugging. "Every room I go into I leave a little trail, so I can tap into my pathways if I walk them enough."

"Like a little snail," Sera whispered in awe, looking into the freaky magic flames. Kiora giggled, nodding. "Right cool."

She watched Kiora dip a long, glossy black fingernail into the magic window, moving the picture to show Cullen asleep in his bed. It was just past midnight. He must've passed out a few minutes ago. He still had his boots on. "So. Plan," she said, looking up at Sera, her sleepy eyes sparkling. "I use a sleeping spell, you know, to keep him out. Templars are pretty sensitive to magic so we've got to be careful at first."

"At first?" Sera raised an eyebrow.

"My sleeping spells are very good."

"Yeah, good point."

"I need you to cover me while I sneak in," she said, seeming to be as giddy as one could with her eyes always half-lidded and her voice sleepy. "And then... balloons."

"Balloons?" Sera tried to keep her laughter quiet. "You gonna fill his office with balloons?" Kiora nodded, smiling. "Magic balloons?" Kiora looked utterly giddy. "You're mad," Sera grinned, shaking her head. "And Maker, I love it!"

"You do?"

"Yeah!"

"Your approval means everything," Kiora giggled. "The queen of practical jokes approved my silly little prank..!" She seemed to be swooning. "Okay!" She shut her hand like a pocket mirror, snuffing out the purple flames. "Cover me, sunshine."

"You got it, tadwinks," Sera nodded, mocking seriousness. She wasn't all too worried about Kiora getting in trouble. After all, her dumb, sleepy self was the boss, after all. Every fancy-pants member of the Inquisition had to go through her, so they couldn't exactly spend their precious, busy time being mad at her over a joke.

She watched Kiora sneak up to the door to Cullen's office, her motions surprisingly graceful for someone who certainly wasn't a rogue. She moved like a shadow, her black robes certainly helping in concealing her larger figure. She sunk down, and a dark purple mist slowly escaped from the tips of her needle-pointed fingers, running under Cullen's door. She summoned that purple mirror again, and Sera watched, transfixed, as she made sure the Commander was asleep before giving Sera a thumbs up and an adorable, dopey grin. She slowly pushed open the door to Cullen's room, and snuck in like a cat. Thankfully, she had more grace than her fat cat, Socks, who usually announced his presence with loud thumps everywhere he went.

She watched through the opening of the door, her eyebrows pushing together as she watched Kiora summon a weird, purple-ish-black ball of magic, and set it on the ground. Then she backed away a little, like that was all she was doing. She squatted down, and tapped it twice with the pad of her finger, watching it glow a little before turning on her heal and running out as fast as she could without tripping over her robe. She looked very pleased with herself.

"Just one?" Sera asked, confused as Kiora grabbed her hand and pulled her along back to her fancy Inquisitor chambers.

"For now!" Kiora whispered, laughter in her voice.

Okay, maybe Sera didn't trust magic all the way, but it was for sure exciting.

When they got to Kiora's room, she plopped herself onto the bed, her chest moving quickly as she tried to catch her breath. She got winded quite easily.

"So, what's with the one balloon?" Sera asked, jumping up onto the bed next to her.

Kiora smiled and fell back onto her back, sinking slightly into the squishy mattress. "It's a surprise!" She was positively delighted. Sera couldn't help but wonder if her joy in pranking Cullen was a little bit about his being a Templar and her being a mage. Sera wouldn't ask.

Kiora wiggled her way out of her robe, encouraging Sera to strip to her undergarments as well. They both got under Kiora's mass of covers, snuggling close.

"I think you'll be happy," Kiora whispered, nuzzling her cute, big-ish human nose against Sera's flat elven one.

"Me too." Sera eagerly awaited whatever madness Kiora decided to unleash on the unwitting Templar. Sure, Kiora was pretty passive, but those looks in her eyes were telling enough. She planned a clusterfuck of nonsense and Sera was already so proud of her.

• • ♡ • •

Twas a clusterfuck indeed.

Kiora and Sera strolled downstairs, hand in hand, Kiora dressed in her most casual robes and smoking an elfroot cigar.

"For the love of the Maker!" They picked up the pace a little.

Purple-ish black balloons were spilling out of Cullen's office, and what seemed like the entirety of Skyhold had come to watch the War Commander burst out of his balloon-filled room, unstyled hair sticking up every which way from the magic. Sera couldn't help but burst out laughing, and she heard Kiora start giggling.

"Nice look, Curly!" Varric called out, trying to contain his laughter. He shot Sera and Kiora a glace that was clearly appreciative of the job they did.

"Sera!" Cullen fixated on Sera, who just smiled and waved with her free hand. "I hope you realize we have rules and punishments here!"

"Not if you don't catch me!" She laughed, tightening her grip on Kiora's hand. The mage just burnt the end of her cigar in her hand, sprinting away with Sera to the sounds of the no-fun-allowed Commander yelling at her to get back there and clean up the mess she allegedly created.

Kiora was laughing alongside her, obviously having a great time. Sera was going to have to let her plan pranks more often.

#femslashfeb2019 #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #kiora trevelyan #da sera #sera x inquisitor #da inquisitor #fanfiction #original content #cullen rutherford #look at these DORKS #i love them #god i'm writing fics so fast i need to get shit DONE #anyway hope ya like it

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xxxdragonfucker69xxx · 6 years

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Calibration is a holiday celebrated, or feared, across Creation. For five days at the end of the calendar, the laws of Fate bend; demons slip through the cracks between worlds, ghosts walk in the daylit lands, and raksha stalk the earth. Many cultures treat it as an inversion festival, where the normal social order is turned upside down and all rules are suspended; others treat it as a time to be feared, when literal monsters walk among us; still others treat it as a time of carnival, to celebrate surviving another year and to make merry in light of the fact that they might not survive the year to come.

It was in this context that Leo had tentatively tried to explain Halloween.

+++

"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" asked Seal.

Des twirled to show off her cape. "I'm Dracula. Obvioushly," she said, drooling only a little. She was wearing something not too different from what she normally wore, black accented with purple and red, save for three additions: a floor-length cape, the slicked-back hair above her forehead, and what appeared to be false teeth. False fangs.

"Dracula fucking who?" Seal asked. He had opted to dress as Jason, the cool guy from that movie Lion had shown them; the mask was easy enough for Harv to sculpt, and Des had managed to find a spirit who could disguise Glorious First Light as a hockey stick. Perfectly reasonable. Des rolled her eyes. "Dracula fucking Dracula, idiot. Vlad Tepesh. The Impaler. It'sh a classhic. Barbarian." She rolled her jaw for a minute, then spit the false teeth out. "Actually, fuck these though. I feel like Star."

"Not sho eashy, ish it?" Star crowed. He was dressed with a similar cape, but in more fashionably cut clothing that Seal had to admit suited him. Over his mask he wore another half-mask, white and sculpted to fit the right side of his face. Seal had the vague recollection that he was supposed to be some sort of singer or musical performer, but frankly Seal had been distracted by the costume and not paying attention while Star talked or sang or whatever.

"You have fangs, idiot," Seal agreed. Des smiled at him and let her fangs slide out smoothly. Seal snorted and looked around the room to take in the rest of the costumes. Lion had appeared earlier in a buff jacket, with his head made up to look like a flaming skull. Tower had a white cloth draped over them with eyeholes cut out, and claimed to be a ghost when anyone asked. Shadow was covered in dirt and cloth intestines, and claimed to be Harvester when asked. Harv, on the other hand, was dressed as finely as Seal could remember ever seeing him; he was wearing what appeared to be jewelry made of bones, and....black lipstick? Seal raised an eyebrow at Des, who followed his gaze and started preening. "I helped him pick it out," she explained.

As they watched, Harv pulled a flask from beneath his costume, took a swig, and started heading unstably but steadily towards Shadow. Des sighed. "I'm gonna go take care of this," she told Seal, and headed to intercept.

+++

"We have a problem," Star hissed to Des urgently as he accosted her.

Des squinted as she poured herself a cup of (unfortunately nonalcoholic) punch. "What problem? Nobody's even here anymore."

It was true; Lion had excused himself early, and Harv and Shadow..... had disappeared somewhere. Star flapped his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Not that. I wasch, uh, shnooping, a little, and I maybe broke into the closhet."

Des' eyes flew to the closet, adorned with warnings and arcane symbols. Sure enough, the padlocks were hanging off the latch, snapped and rusted. Des turned back to Star and raised an eyebrow. The Day Caste blushed and looked away, muttering about Chains-Cannot-Hold Technique.

Des sighed. "Whatever. That's just where Harv and Shadow put the stuff they don't want us to mess with. Old Artifacts, gross necromancy stuff, candy stashes, that kind of thing. It's fine if you didn't take anything."

Silence.

"Star, did you take something?" Des asked with deceptive calm.

"It washn't sho musch that I took shomefing," Star hedged, "asch I let shomefing out."

Des narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

Star broke immediately. "There wasch thish ugly little monkey shtatshue with shymbalsch, right, and it wasch jusht labeled Horrid Fucking Monkey, sho I picked it up to look at it but then it shtarted fucking clapping, on itsh own, like shome fucking demon --"

"Star, calm down," Des said. Star was pacing back and forth in front of the doughnut table. He stopped in his tracks. "Anyway," he said, "I dropped it on the ground, and it rolled under a shelf. And I got down to look for it, but I couldn't find it, and then I heard it. Over there!" He pointed, and Des looked.

Sitting atop the TV cabinet was a small monkey statue, either taxidermied or lovingly upholstered, holding a pair of cymbals. Its glassy eyes gleamed in the Sanctuary's harsh light, its smile stretched wide to show all its teeth. Des had faced ghosts and zombies and hekatoncheires, had dueled a Deathlord singlehandedly, but she felt a shiver run down her spine. Next to her, Star was probably hissing at the thing.

"Okay," Des said. "You've convinced me. Shitheads, assemble."

+++

The Shithead Squad had been named by Seal, probably trying to fill a hole left by his old gang, Des rationalized. The name had grown on her. It had begun as just her and Seal, but Tower went along with whatever they cooked up and they'd somehow pulled in Star as well. Des liked to think that they were fostering cooperation between the young Deathknaves. At least Star and Seal fought less when they were aimed at the same thing.

Currently the Shithead Squad was assembled under the Sanctuary table, which was actually two tables under one tablecloth. Des and Star had lost their cloaks; Seal had dropped his mask just beyond the table but refused to reach for it. Tower was still covered in a cloth.

"Thisch ish shtupid," Star whispered. "I'm just going to --"

"Shh," Seal hissed. "I think I hear it." The assembled Abyssals fell silent and strained to hear.

Nothing happened.

"I'm making a run for it," Star said, and moved toward the edge of the table. As he did, his head bumped against the support of the table above, causing him to reel backwards clutching his face and whispering "ow, ow, ow," repeatedly. As the Shitheads fumbled to catch him, Seal jostled the leg of the other table.

Immediately, there was a screeching noise from above, accompanied by repeatedly crashing cymbals. This set off a panic underneath the table, all the Abyssals tangled up and struggling to get free. "Get off -- no you -- ow, that's my fucking leg -- Sol's sake, Star, you're gonna stab my eye --"

As they struggled under the table, the screeching proceeded closer to the edge, and closer, and closer, until there was a thump from beyond the tablecloth. Silence fell and the Deathknights froze. Slowly, Des reached out to lift the tablecloth.

The Horrid Fucking Monkey was sitting there, on the ground, upright. The moment Des made eye contact with it, it was banging its cymbals again and screeching like it had never stopped. Its eyes gleamed an unholy red, and Des could feel them burrowing into her Essence, into her very soul.

"Fire in the fucking hole!" Seal shouted from behind her, and Des launched herself to the side to avoid a cascade of golden spears aimed at the monkey.

+++

"Oh Schol, oh Schol, oh Schol," Star muttered, holding himself and rocking slightly. He was curled up next to the oven, in a puddle of what might have been grease.

"Shut up," Des hissed at him from the kitchenette door, peering back out into the Sanctuary. Seal was standing just behind her, ready to summon Glorious First Light. "Why won't it die," he muttered to himself, "why won't it just fucking die..."

"We shouldn't have sent Tower," Des said finally. "I don't care where Harv and Shadow are, we should have stuck together. Come on, let's go look for them."

Star's head shot up. "What? No, no, you're crazhy, I'm not going out there --"

"Yes you are," Des snapped. "Do you want us to leave you here instead?"

Star scrambled to his feet. "No it's ok I'm good," he said hastily. "I got the Wingsh, I can murder, I can fly, I'm sho ready for thish. I'm sho fucking ready for thish." He moved to join them at the doorframe, holding onto Seal for support. For once, Seal didn't shoulder him off.

"Okay, everyone get ready," Des whispered. She pulled up the deadliest necromancy she knew, and behind her Seal pulled out his spear, and the feathers on Star's wings bristled with deadly intent. Slowly, she swung open the door.

The Sanctuary was a mess. The tables were overturned, the chairs were scattered, costume pieces were strewn everywhere. In the middle of the carpet, however, there was a stain that all their senses immediately pegged as blood, and sitting directly next to that stain was --

"You horrid fucking monkey!" Seal cried, hurling himself at the statue. It started screeching as soon as he set foot outside its kitchen, banging its cymbals more loudly than Des thought was possible. Star dropped to his knees next to the stain, wailing, "it got them, it fucking killed them, it killed Tower, they were so young....."

Seal was wrestling the statue, trying to keep its cymbals apart. It was apparently possessed of unholy strength, because nothing should have been able to overpower a Dusk Caste, but Seal was rolling around on the carpet like he was fighting an attack dog and every so often the cymbals managed to crash together anyways. Pushing where she could, Des helped steer them to the Sanctuary door and hold it open, revealing a dark hallway beyond. "And fucking stay out, you devil fucking bastard!" Seal shouted, hurling the statue into the darkness and slamming the door shut.

+++

"HOW DID IT GET BACK IN!" Seal howled, holding the bathroom door shut with all his strength. Something thumped against it on the other side. Star was sitting on the toilet with the lid closed, rocking back and forth, muttering "we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die."

"Okay, get ready," Des said, reaching deep within her. "Ready, steady, go!"

Seal flung open the door and Des retched, throwing up a mass of black slime. Sure enough, the monkey was on the other side, screeching and clapping its cymbals, and Des directed the spell towards it. She felt the slime lengthen into the shape of her shadow and begin creeping towards the monkey. "Close it, close it, close it," she yelled, slamming the door shut.

The two of them braced their backs against the door, sliding to the floor together. "Do you think it got it?" Seal asked.

Des shook her head. "I'm afraid to check," she confessed.

Seal snapped his fingers at Star. "Hey. Hey, birdbrain. Snap out of it."

Star whipped around to glare at Seal. "What the fuck did you call me, you little shtringy bashtard?"

Seal grinned. "Yeah, that's the spirit. You got Stealth Charms, right? See if Des got it."

Star muttered, but Seal's taunt seemed to have broken him out of it. He rolled up his sleeves and concentrated, and Des watched him fade out of sight. She cracked the door open for a second, then closed it again.

"Well, shomefing happened," Star said when he was visible again. "I don't know what you did to it, but shomefing."

Des opened the door again, and she and Seal peered out. The monkey was visibly straining to clap, embroiled as it was in the tarry shadow-substance. Its screeching was muffled, but its red eyes shone with just as much hatred.

"Quick!" Seal yelled. "Fire! Fire cleanses!"

"I'm the occultist here!" Des yelled back, but she picked it up begrudgingly. The shadow-stuff was oily and sticky, but the monkey-fur was pulsatingly warm in a way that was simultaneously disgusting and terrifying. Star held the kitchenette door open for her, and she set it on one of the burners then cranked it to full blast. The Hungry Creeping Shadow spell quickly burned away, leaving the statue free to clap and scream, but Des captured it under a pot and weighed it down with all her weight. They listened to it crashing and banging inside the pot, but eventually the noises quieted down.

Des turned off the burner and cautiously cracked the pot open. No noise emerged. She lifted it higher, then cursed. "Shit," she said. "It's still here."

Seal demanded to see, shoving her aside and throwing the pot off. Sure enough, the monkey was sitting on the burner, its fur streaked with black. "It'sh not making any noishe, though," Star said hopefully. "Maybe that meansh it'sh dead?"

The monkey's eyes lit up red.

Seal's anima erupted to iconic, but before he could do anything, Harvester walked into the kitchen. "Oh, hey," he said. "You found the monkey." The Daybreak picked it up, fiddled with something on the underside of the base. The light in the monkey's eyes died away.

Des' jaw dropped. Harv called out through the door, "Is this what you were talking about?" And Tower's head poked through the door.

"Yeah, that's it--" they started to say, before being ambushed by all three Shitheads flinging themselves onto them. Even gargantuan as they were, they staggered backwards a little. "We thought you were dead!" sobbed Star dramatically. Seal stepped away hastily, muttering about how he didn't, no, he knew they were fine --

Tower blinked confusedly. "No. I cut myself on the cymbals and went to go find bandages so I didn't spill blood on the walls. It's very hard to clean. Then I found Harvester. He said he knew how to fix it."

Harv poked his head out of the kitchen, frowned at where the four of them were sprawled on the Sanctuary floor. "Did you guys try to set this thing on fire?" he said. "You know there's an off switch, right?"

The Abyssals, looked down, unwilling to meet each other's gazes. Harv chuckled. "What's that thing Lion was saying?" he said. "Trick a fucking treat."

#sanctuary in black #emetophobia for ts?#i thought about having it be longfurby but in the end Horrid Fucking Monkey is an institution #hour in black

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