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heavensentgohansrage · 7 years

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Recap and Notes: Heracles!Stiles Ch. 5

find the chapter here

Myth and Historical Overview

The dream that is told in the beginning of the chapter is about a story where Heracles was pondering on whether to stay loyal to the earthly Father who had raised him and become a cowherd, or taking advantage of his abilities to do more than that. All of a sudden, two figures appeared in front of him: they were Deities/Daimonas(personified spirits of something) Arete and Kakia. The first one represented virtue, and offered him hard, but glorified life; the latter represented vice, and offered calm, easy life, though without any achievements. I made Stiles thinking of his family when being offered that option, because as much as he looks for thrills in his life (like searching for the other half of a dead body in the darkness of the woods), it is not a decision he would make without thinking of others (like he was multiple times gave up on moments where he could show off to his Father or Lydia in favour of life-or-death meaningful tasks).

As noted by Apollo, wolves are sacred to him (although they are related to other Deities, too)- which makes it even more symbolic that he is the first Deity to meet Stiles.

Apollo is the Deity of prophecies, and believed to be able to give the best advice in regard of what was going to happen in the future, which is why Heracles approached him. Some versions of the legend claim that it wasn’t the Deity which Heracles ask for guidance regarding the bad incidents in his life, but his earthly messengers for that matter: the Oracle. I went with the version of Apollo himself meeting Stiles simply out of personal preference.

Myrtle, laurel and palm tree are all sacred to Apollo.

Kalisto was part of Artemis’ virgin Hunters, and once she was tempted by Zeus- Artemis was so mad that she made her into a bear. When she died later, together with her son, Zeus would place her in the stars as the Ursa Major constellation. Apparently, she had parted way from her Father, Lycaon, before joining Artemis- but since it isn’t noted clearly anywhere, I found it nice to hint the possibility of her becoming a Hunter after becoming a Werewolf.

General Recap

It is very important to me to redeem the show’s flaw in characters not regretting their problematic actins enough. Of course, Stiles’ behaviour in the fic is still problematic, but at least he makes the first right steps to reflect on those, and I hope it’ll turn out satisfying for you too!

It might be clear, but I just feel like clarifying it anyway: so Cora either isn’t aware of the fact her Brother is the building’s landlord or doesn’t really thinks about it too much when she first speaks to Stiles- she basically just wanted to make him go as fast as possible xD

Stiles didn’t ask about that, but Isaac isn’t there because he tried to give the two siblings as much alone time as possible (even when there’s no school to go to).

Fun Facts

Coach makes yet another reference to the Disney film xD Seriously, Phil is too great and similar to Finstock to use his quotes only once.

Apollo (like the rest of the Deities that Stiles will meet) is inspired by Amai Mask, a character from One Punch Man (very recommended btw, both as manga and anime!), since I wanted the Deities to look as ridiculous as the characters, and to make reference to OPM since I love it so much.

The irony in Apollo mentioning the Spartans (who most of them saw Apollo as their Patron Deity, together with Athena) is that they considered themselves to be the descendants of Heracles.

The part about building an outside fireplace with equipment that costs in total under 25 dollars is real, btw xD Youtube is indeed an amazing source of random needs.

THANK YOU AS ALWAYS FOR READING, AND IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK!

#Heracles!Stiles #fanfics recap&notes #heracles!stiles recap&notes

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 5 months

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tagged by @thesingularityseries for another wip music monday. Thank you so much!

Another song from "Kakia" the Herald/Role Swap AU fic inspo list

lyrics under the cut:

Oh, I come alive in the darkness You know that I love the game Oh, there's a snake in the garden And no one's safe

Oh, you're looking at the devil Oh, do you wanna play? Oh, you're looking at the devil When you walk in the dark You won't walk away You're looking at the devil

Don't bite the apple, Eve If you don't want a taste of me The darkness is following Wherever you are

Tag game list here to be added/removed

tag list: @aceghosts @transcaster @trench-rot @shellibisshe @cloudofbutterflies92 @unholymilf @theelderhazelnut @vampireninjabunnies-blog @thedeadthree @gibson-girlboss @g0dspeeed @strafethesesinners @confidentandgood @adelaidedrubman @harmonyowl @mccarthycormac @carlosoliveiraa @florbelles @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @marivenah @madparadoxum @simplegenius042 @kirjanikv6ilill @v0idbuggy @mxanigel @pathologictwo @purplehairsecretlair @fourlittleseedlings @clicheantagonist @ladyoriza @direwombat @strangefable @statichvm @voidika @nightbloodbix @poetikat @roofgeese @kyber-infinitygems

#wip music monday #fic: kakia #fic inspo #oc: kit cross #Spotify

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 6 months

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Hey, pup!

once again a huge thank you to @statichvm for sharing this pose with me because it is perfect for Herald!Kit. Gaze disrespectfully upon my cat lady come cult leader in her role swap au!

#skipping the tag list just because I don't wanna make anyone uncomfy with the content :)#my art #skelly sketches #oc: kit cross #jacob seed #far cry 5 oc #herald/role swap au #fic: kakia

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 9 months

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tagged by: @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies @theresaruggedroad @thesingularityseries and @madparadoxum (this week) and @nightbloodbix @ivymarquis @g0dspeeed @kyber-infinitygems (last week, tagging you all back this week) thank you all so much!

I've been struggling to do much writing at all lately, but I have a bit from Kit's Herald/Role swap AU I've started messing around with. This fic leans really heavily into the supernatural side of the FC5 lore and of course twists the origin of Kit's arrival in Hope County:

A foggy haze of smoke filled the red, infernal sky as the sun beat down upon the desert and heat rose from the golden dunes in blurry striations. Kit was in a daze, her thousand yard stare focused on the mirage in the distance while her mind was addled by pain. The twisting of metal shrapnel sheared away at meat and bone, slicing through veins and tendons as flames devoured through fat and flesh in equal measure. Fever clouded her vision and her limbs became numb as the clothes on her body charred like a Fourth of July barbecue. The fire in her belly was fading, her very life slipping away from her like sand through her fingers. Her mouth became as hot and dry as the world around her, the tongue that hung from the corner of it now thick and heavy. The steady thumping in her skull started to slow along with the beating of her heart as the lights in her eyes collapsed into tiny pinpricks, tunneling the view she had of the wreckage around her. Screaming faded into the periphery, the terrified moans and groans of her unit members desperately clinging to life became a hellish, cacophonous choir and from out of the desert, something crawled towards her – a dark mass.

It stole the breath from her lungs, nearly ripped the heart right out of her rib cage that begged to distend and snap apart. Whatever it was – and despite the adrenaline that coursed through her removing all clarity of thought and mind, preparing her for the great beyond – only one thought came to mind: it was ancient. Older than the mountains and the sands that caged her, something that came long before the stars and the sky they called home. Primordial. The Alpha and the Omega.

The burning sun and the scorching heat of the fires that nipped and gnawed away at her stung at her eyes, tears spilled down her cheeks as the form and figure grew closer. Then silence fell. Impossible silence. That same crushing nothing that came while in the eye of a storm, and she was facing down a tempest. Giant paws stomped down, leaving prints in the sand that turned to glass. Golden eyes stared out at her, but there was nothing feline behind the glare affixed upon her (despite the gaping maw filled with sharpened teeth like knives) instead they were slits with a light behind them that was far more human than they should have been. This was no earthly creature. There were no lions in Afghanistan. And yet here it was, mane and all, bowing in her company, and licking up the blood that poured from her wounds with its rough pink tongue.

The breath hitched in her throat as she tried to croak out a scream, but she was rendered speechless. A waking nightmare and she was unable to make a sound, all she could do was lay there and blink and pray. Pray that she’d be deemed inedible, pray that she’d be saved, pray that someone would come and spare her life. Pray that she was deemed worthy in the eyes of something holy.

It’s massive head rose, eyes looking into her own as if it could read the very thoughts that rushed through her mind. Sinking into its gaze, she fell deeper into the black, empty pit at the back of her mind where the darkness sat dormant and entombed, waiting to be released onto the world. She just had to let go of what little control she’d been allowed in life and open that lid to Pandora’s box.

And then a voice – not quite male, not quite female, something that was a convergence of the two – arose from out of the dark and infested her mind. “You know pain. You know suffering. Would you like to be free?”

It asked the question and yet her vocal chords were already burned to the point she could no longer speak, her lungs having filled with acrid smoke would not allow for even choked words to spill forward from her lips, but somehow she was able to answer. “Not if it means dying.”

A laugh, cold and mirthless, sent a shiver down her spine. The rattling of a tail screaming through the very weave of time itself. It coiled in the back of her skull, and whatever amount of human evolution and countless generations it had taken to get her here was stripped back until she was nothing more than an ape who’d discovered fire as a means to hold back the dark. She was a sniveling being in the presence of something it’s simple mind could not comprehend without being driven mad.

“You wish to live?”

“Yes.”

“What would you give?”

“Anything.”

It was a simple trade, a barter that worked in her favor. What she might have had to give up was a small price to pay for what she’d receive in return – a second chance. For what, she wasn’t quite sure yet: redemption, revenge, reclaiming her birthright? She supposed she’d find out in due time. She’d sacrificed enough in her life, it was time for all that effort to be recouped and repaid in full.

As the fire extinguished, and the bright glow of headlights fell upon her, she was more alive than ever. Skin had regrown, her hair no longer melted, blackened and burned, the milky cataracts of her eyes scraped back to the icy blue gleam they had once been. She was reborn, made anew in God’s image. Chosen. Saved. A miracle that should never have been. The lone witness to the hand of God still willing to burn bushes for those most fervent in their belief of him.

tagging: @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt @eclecticwildflowers @ladyofedens-blog @florbelles @v0idbuggy @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @simplegenius042 @josephslittledeputy @peppertheferalraccoon @neverthesameneveranother @statichvm @strafethesesinners @adelaidedrubman @clicheantagonist @voidika @confidentandgood @roofgeese @afarcry5fromstraight @chazz-anova @wrathfulrook @aceghosts @jillvalentinesday

#can you tell my love for the vvitch is coming through with this wip lmao #i've also gotten back into reading my clive barker books so that should give a frame of reference for where i'm #going with this fic eventually #wip wednesday #fic: kakia #oc: kit cross

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 8 months

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Tagged by: @ivymarquis

Tagging: @chadillacboseman @chazz-anova @henbased @neonneurons @skoll-sun-eater @shellibisshe @eclecticwildflowers @kyber-infinitygems @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @voidika @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @inafieldofdaisies @clicheantagonist @neverthesameneveranother @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @trench-rot @statichvm @poetikat @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @solstheimart @strangefable @stacispratt @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @ladyofedens-blog @wrathfulrook

writing tag list to be added/removed

art tag list to be added/removed

wip art - capt. price (c*d)

well i said it was going to happen...and it has...(I just love his silly little smirk)

apparently army man is now my type of blorbo (shaking my fist at Jacob Seed for being a gateway drug lol) also I refuse to tell anyone how much time I spent on that chest hair...

And for those of you not in my newest brainrot fandom, a snippet from Kakia (the Herald/Role Swap AU):

Kit circles the bar, fingers drifting over chrome plated metal and glossy hardwood as she reaches the assorted crystal carafes filled with liquor. Snatching one up in her hands, she pulls out the stopper, and her pale blue eyes flick up to meet her guest’s stare. “I hear you used to be a lawyer in Atlanta, John.” She dips a finger past the rim of an empty glass and drags it towards herself, crystal ringing out like a bell, before pouring the amber liquid. Nonchalantly adding, “Before you were disbarred of course.”

He grasps at the material of his trousers with sweaty palms, his tongue dipping against his lip. “Yes.”

“What happened?” She plunges the stopper back into the carafe and spins the liquor around her glass, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I made some mistakes, fell prey to my vices.”

Kit nods and takes a sip from her drink, swiping her thumb across her lower lip to wipe away any drops of the scotch that tried to escape her before resting her chin on her hand. “Care for a drink, John?”

His bright eyes stare at the glass in her hand as he swallows heavily. “I don’t drink.”

“Don’t or can’t?” He looks at her unsure of how to answer and she quickly takes that as her invitation in, using his moment of weakness as a weapon against him. “You know, I lived my life for a long time entirely imposed upon. Told what I was supposed to do, had my whole life chosen for me because of my father. He raised me to believe that I had to fight and die for my country because that’s all I was really worth to him. He had me convinced that that was how I would win his love and approval. How I'd become his pride and joy. But that wasn’t true. I thought I'd seen the world because I’d traveled it, but I was still blind. I missed out on so many of life’s experiences all to make someone else happy.” She takes another sip of her drink, indulging in the warm burn it left down the back of her throat. “But I don’t live like that anymore. Now I do what I want, when I want. Taking in all of what life has to offer. It’s highs, it’s lows. All of its sensations.”

John swallows heavily, the sound of him gulping his own saliva is music to her ears knowing her claws are settling in nice and deep into the meat of him.

“Now John, will you take that drink?” A red brow lifts as she offers the temptation once more.

“Yes. Scotch. Please.”

Her smile widens to reveal jaws filled with sparkling white teeth. “Good boy.”

Pouring him a drink, she carries it over and takes a seat on the couch beside him. She passes him the glass and then pulls open a drawer on the table beside her grabbing an ornate box inside it. Lifting the lid, she pulls out a pre-rolled joint.

Long fingers caress the cool glass in his hand, stroking it as he watches her lick her lips and slip the joint in her mouth before flicking back the metal lid of her lighter. The flame dances as it’s held to the tip, making it glow orange as smoke trails up to the rafters.

“My brother wouldn’t be very happy about that.”

Pale eyes glance sideways and linger on him, narrowing as she flicks the lid of the lighter closed. “It’s legal here. I have my own crop growing up at the conservatory. Pure and organic.” She passes the joint to John. “Don’t tell me you don’t smoke either?”

“I used to. But then that led to other things –”

The corner of her mouth lifts into a smirk. “You really fell for all that gateway drug bullshit?” Her gaze traces over him judgmentally. “Didn’t know when to stop, huh?”

John takes the joint from her but only holds it instead of partaking in it. “Eventually nothing feels as good anymore, and then you need more on top of that.”

Kit stretched her arms out along the back of the couch, leaning into the cushions as she tipped her head back blowing out smoke rings. “Nothing wrong with that. I've never seen the downside to excess, taking and taking until there’s nothing left to give.”

Ash falls onto the legs of his trousers and without a spare hand he’s forced to bring the joint to his mouth to brush it away.

“It’s second nature to you. Why change that?” She asks, turning to him and pulling the joint from his mouth.

Sputtering out smoke as he coughs, she laughs and it’s warm and friendly, but it doesn’t meet her eyes – there is something cold and empty within them.

“Because I was tail spinning out of control.”

“Out of control,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You just hadn’t found a place where you belong yet. But I think you’re going to enjoy it here, John.”

Squeezing his shoulder tight, he turns to look at her. Big, bright eyes sparkle in her direction. Looking at her like she was an angel bathed in the holy light of God. His vision swimming, body melting into the couch.

“Really, why’s that?”

She curled up against him, pushing her fingers through his dark hair. “We have what you need,” she purred.

“What do I need?” he asked, staring at her lips as his eyes glazed over.

“Freedom.” Her mouth ghosted against his and she stared at him like he was supper.

“Yes,” he managed to hiss before slumping forward, his forehead pressing into her shoulder.

#wip wednesday #wip art #fic: kakia

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 8 months

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Kit's Herald/Role Swap AU

Kakia

malignity, malice, ill-will, desire to injure

wickedness, depravity

wickedness that is not ashamed to break laws

evil, trouble

(middle pic an edit by @fourlittleseedlings ty <3)

#my edit #fic moodboard #fic: kakia #fc5 herald/role swap au #figured it was about time i made a moodboard for this fic since apparently this is what my brain wants to work on for spooky season #oc: kit cross

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 7 months

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tagged by: @simplegenius042 @inafieldofdaisies and @adelaidedrubman

tagging: @mxanigel @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @afarcry5fromstraight @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @strafethesesinners @statichvm @neverthesameneveranother @sukoshimikan @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @direwombat @florbelles @poetikat @fangsandroses @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt

writing tag list here to be added/removed

still 3.5 hours left on a Monday for me, and sliding in with some music and a short-ish (800 words...okay not that short, I'm sorry) snippet from the Herald/Role Swap AU aka "Kakia"

The way you keep me in pursuit Sharpen the heel of your boot And you press it to my chest and you make me wheeze Then to my knees you do promote me

...

The most unsuitable pet It's been long enough now so let's Make a mess, lioness

I'm pinned down by the dark I'm pinned down by the dark, oh

D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S A-N-I-M-A-L

tw: mentions of cannibalism, implied torture

“Tell me about Miller.” Her voice flows like honey from the darkness, sweet and sticky with her want to break him down.

Jacob looks up at his tormentor from the shadows of his cage with a freezing stare, tossing the metal bowl of raw meat at the bars in retaliation. The clang of metal reverberates, echoing around the exterior of the camp and ringing in his ears like the church bells he was forced to grow up with in Rome. More of his “meal” splashes back at him then reaches her, but he wants his point known even as chunks of slimy, days-old ground chuck slip down the hairs of his beard and the tip of his nose.

Kit tuts her tongue, tapping her fingernails against her toned biceps while her arms are crossed over her chest as she stands before the bars of his enclosure. She is thoroughly unimpressed. He’s done nothing more than act like an animal in her presence, and so like an animal he will be treated. “You think I don’t know everything about you already? Who do you think picked you out of the roster to become Sheriff of this little nowheresville? I don’t need your army records, or medical files – it’s all up here,” she says pointing to her temple. “You killed him for survival. Ate the poor fuck. Didn’t you?” She scans him over like he’s a medical specimen she wants to examine, her head tipped ever so slightly. “What was that like?”

He scraped off the meat (and the juices from it) that had splashed back on his face with his hand, shaking the chunks to the dirt floor. “If you already know, why d’you have t’ask?”

A small smile pulled at her lips, making light of the situation she was putting him in. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he’d be forced to give in eventually. Just like he had in that desert. She just had to wait him out. Gliding towards the bars, each movement elegant like a dancer and as smooth as a serpent as she drops to her knees, her bare knees grinding into the dirt as her dress clings to her athletic legs. “Because I want to hear it from your own mouth. I want to see the saliva build on your tongue while you think about the taste of him, I want to see the teeth that tore the flesh from his bone. I want to watch your pupils dilate while you remember the sounds he gurgled out.”

He’s half sure he can see her eyes glow, but he blames it on a trick of the light from the fires and his own lack of proper nutrition. Growling out a warning that builds from deep in his chest, his timbre low and rough, “Fuck. You.”

She shakes her head in retort, huffing out a bitter laugh. He’s testing her patience, more than she tends to appreciate during the chase. He’s making this more difficult than it has to be. “Yeah, yeah. Same old retort,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

If there’s one thing Kit knows, it’s that sometimes the best way to win someone over is to play hard to get. Let them chase. She had speed and endurance on her side. It takes five hyenas to take on a lioness in the wild. What was one wolf to her?

Her palms slam against the bars, bloody juices running down the pale flesh of her palms as if she’s been overcome with the stigmata, and her voice drops to a heavy husk akin to the rumble just before the roar of a tiger, “Show me your fucking bite, doggy. I’m getting sick and tired of the bark.”

As she rises from her knees and turns to walk away, his feet rush him to the bars of his cage against his will, hands curling around the cold metal in fists. There’s a part of him – a part of him he hates – that hopes it’s enough to win back her attention and good graces. He pants, his breaths desperate to escape him as much as the words he’s fighting from falling from him in some sort of desperate attempt at a confession. Memories that he put to rest after years of therapy come crawling out of the woodwork and there is no cork to stopper them. He steadies himself, sticking to short sentences, trying not to give her any more than he had to. “He wasn’t alive when it happened. I slit his throat first. After eight days lost in the desert he wasn’t going to make it anyway and the wolves were right behind us. It was one or both of us.”

Feet stop in their tracks, planted firmly to the ground. He watches the fog of her breath and waits expectantly like a dog on the porch for it’s master. A whipped and beaten thing that is eager for her approval. Waiting for her to turn around, to see him.

“So you chose yourself.” Kit turns to look over her shoulder, her painted-on smile stretching across her face and a mad gleam sparkles in her eyes.

“Yeah,” he says despondently, staring out over a thousand yards.

She hums, a low purring in her throat. “Good choice, pup.”

#fic: kakia #fc5 herald/role swap au #oc: kit cross #wip music monday #wip whenever #Spotify

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 8 months

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tagged this week by: @theresaruggedroad @thesingularityseries @inafieldofdaisies @kyber-infinitygems @direwombat @nightbloodbix @mxanigel @simplegenius042 @wrathfulrook @trench-rot and @cassietrn (thank you all so much!!)

Alas there have not been a lot of words coming out of me lately with life stress and whatnot but I have a few snippets to share (Warnings for misogyny and talk of gender roles):

“Joseph brought something along for ya.” Jacob smirked and reached under the desk before tossing a balled up lump of white material at her. The grin he had on slipped and his face became emotionless once more, staying that way as she unfurled the clothing item.

Flowy and made of lace, it was cut for a smaller woman and what would have been knee length was going to sit mid thigh for her. She swallowed heavily, knowing this article had been worn by someone else before. “Is this one of Faith’s?”

“One of ‘em, I’m sure.”

Her brow furrowed as she gripped the material, ready to shred it in her fingers. “Is that what he plans to do?” She looked up from the dress, her eyes flaring with an anger that started deep from within her. “To make me –”

“No. You’re not another Faith, you have a different role. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You’re not lying to me, are you? This isn’t some sort of punishment because he suspects we’re –”

“Kit. There’s no extra meaning to it. It’s just a dress.”

Her glare became downright icy. “Why can’t I just wear what I’m wearing then? It’s not like you’re having to wear your Sunday best.”

“Because it’s what Joseph expects,” he said coldly, a hint of a threat behind the words. She might have been given a place amongst them but they had grown up in the church just like she had, given roles they were expected to carry out and as the woman she was meant to be submissive, subservient, to do as the man said. If she didn’t have a husband to rule her then she’d have a Father to do that for her instead.

...

The dress sat unbearably tight against her arms, the lace restricting her movement, digging into her, imprinting its pattern upon her skin and cutting off the circulation. She’d never been especially fond of dresses as it was, wearing them under her parents’ express ruling that it was expected for church and the odd occasion where a date deemed it necessary she make an effort. In her mind they never suited her, they were something soft, pretty and sweet, the embodiment of what it meant to be a girl and she always felt as though she came up short – never quite fully a woman – but the world was happy to remind her that was the role she was required to fit. It squeezed at her, hugging her sides, showing off the curved form of her womanhood, not letting her hide behind the loose cut clothing she normally wore, letting her blend in (as much was possible) in a room full of men.

Jacob’s stare rested on her, looking at her more indecently than he had when she stood before him in the nude. She understood it, she was no stranger to her own wandering eyes landing on the lean muscle of legs shown off in a summer dress, or the way cleavage peeked over a heart shaped neckline, and the sunlight glistened off collar bones. It was the fact that as much as the body underneath was left to the imagination, all it took was a hand slipping up the hem of a skirt to find heaven so readily available.

“Are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna help zip me up before your brothers arrive?” She asked, pressing her hands to her hips.

“Just taking in the view, angel. It’s not too often I’m gonna get a sight like this, I figure I might as well appreciate it while I got it.”

Kit rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, bringing her hands to the nape of her neck and sweeping the waves of her hair up, coiling it around her hand before resting it against the top of her head. She looked over her shoulder at him with a coy grin. “I promise I’ll let you make good use of the visual later, but for now –”

He stood up and walked over to her and ran his rough hands down her back, pressing the lace into her skin and with it came with the same abrasion as the fibers of a rope on skin. She shut her eyes and grit her teeth as he dragged the zipper slowly up her back. Letting her hair fall loose, she was entirely thankful Jacob didn’t have a mirror in the room, the last thing she wanted to see was the image of herself dressed like Faith. A pretty girl all frocked in white – innocent and pure – when she already knew she was anything but.

“I bet you had all the mamas jealous their little girls weren’t as pretty as you were growing up,”Jacob teased.

“Hardly,” she said with a tired sigh.

There was a knock at the door and a few extra feet were put between herself and Jacob before it swung open and Joseph and John entered the room. The Father stepped forward, once more setting out his hand in wait for his brother’s approval before touching his arm. He looked over at the table and beamed at the sight of it, prepared with four chairs around it, plates, cutlery and glasses set at every corner, and steaming portions of food waiting to be served.

“It smells delicious. Come, let us sit and eat.”

They took their places, John sat on one side beside his older brother, and on the other were Kit and Jacob (who’d been enough of a gentleman to remember to pull out her seat for her).

Joseph brought his hands together and bowed his head, John quickly followed suit and Kit brought up the rear. She looked over at Jacob who didn’t move a muscle, his arms left crossed over his chest as he rested back in his seat waiting for Joseph’s prayer to be over. His eyes met hers briefly before she closed her own and listened to the words Joseph spoke, “Lord God, Heavenly Father, bless us and these gifts which we receive from Your bountiful goodness. The eyes of all look to you, O Lord, and you give them their food at the proper time. You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing. We are thankful for the meal we are about to eat, for those that made it possible, and for those with whom we are about to share it. Amen.”

Jacob had already begun to dig into his meal as the others lowered their hands, but Joseph seemed unbothered by it. Willing to forgive his brother’s lack of faith, understanding why he rejected it after all the things he’d faced in life, knowing one day, eventually, he too would return to God and find peace.

As she began to eat, Kit had that same unbearable sense of having all eyes upon her once more and wasn’t surprised when she looked up from her meal to see all three brothers’ gaze upon her again. Joseph stared at her quietly, drinking from his glass of water, before returning to his meal, bringing a piece of stewed elk to his mouth. “I’m so glad that dress fits. I wasn’t sure if it would be your size, but my, it suits you.”

She plastered on her best fake smile as she gripped tighter at her fork, her knuckles burning white against the metal. “Thank you Father, I appreciate that.”

and a bit more from the Herald/Role Swap AU:

Stepping off the plane, the soles of Kit’s shoes hit the tarmac and the weight of the world crashed down upon her as if gravity was stronger here, desperately trying to pull her down into the center of the Earth, down into the pits of Tartarus where the souls of the ruthless went, into Hell where the traitor found it’s kin. She slid her sunglasses from the breast pocket of her jacket and covered her eyes from the burning flames of the sun’s rays. The heat here was nothing like that which scorched and blistered her back in the desert, it barely even scratched at her frozen core. The sweat upon her brow removed with an easy swipe of the back of her hand across it as she gazed out at the jungle of concrete and glass that made up DFW International Airport.

She was home.

But this place brought her anything but comfort. Texas was a stop gap along the way to where she really needed to be. The Voice had proclaimed that she needed to be with her family – to some that would mean their parents, their blood – to her that meant finding those of a like mind, not the people who merely shaped her to their will.

James and Elaine Cross had lived a perfect life of their own making and had now settled into a gated suburb community with all the same falsity as the idols they visited at the megachurch on Sundays. Rows of houses with perfectly sculpted gardens, mowed lawns all trimmed to the same inch of freshly watered green, painted the same sickening shade of welcoming white that the veneered teeth of the owners shone with when they smiled. As Kit exited the cab and stood outside the gate, the sun glinted off of the polished metal bars making her teeth ache with how hard she clenched her jaw. She waited for the taxi to pull off, leaving her to her long awaited business. Pale eyes steered towards the security camera that panned the exterior of the gates and watched as it scanned it’s all seeing eye away from her until she was in its blind spot. The mechanisms of the gate that kept it locked together clicked and clanked as a crackle of static settled on the air. Tasting ozone on her tongue, the electrical charge that powered the privileged man’s prison of protection died and the bars swung open granting her access to their Eden.

Two vehicles were parked outside her parents’ house, sat in the driveway was a large black SUV, the other a white BMW 3 series convertible. Kit clucked her tongue against her teeth at the sight. Long gone were the days of her father’s dark green pick up truck that he had for over a decade, that they rode in for every camping trip and hunting trip, that traveled across their great nation with them. Her parents lived in luxury, flaunting it more so than they ever did in her youth. They’d become comfortable. Complacent.

Placing her hand upon the knob of the front door, all she merely had to do was turn it and it was as if they’d kept it wide open for her arrival. Her senses were dialed up the same way they would be if she were in battle, her adrenaline pumping throughout the entirety of her body. She could hear every little creak of the floorboards, every groan of the pipes as they settled within the walls, the spark of electricity that flooded the light bulbs in the ceiling above her and in the sconces that decorated the front hall, and the rhythmic beating of two hearts within the house. The warm incandescent light of the bulbs seemed to vibrate in her vision, radiating out towards her in shafts, bathing her skin in jaundiced hues. The sickeningly sweet vanilla perfume of paraffin candles bought for far more than they were worth burned at her nostrils to the point she was sure they might bleed and the metallic tang of copper blanketed her tongue as her teeth pierced into the flesh of the muscle as she swallowed back any of the fear that tempted to test her nerve.

Kit stood at the french doors that led from the entrance hall into the main heart of the house, her hands balling into fists so tight that the trimmed nails of her fingers still managed to carve crescents into the meat of her palms. With a deep breath, she stepped forward, her boot crossing over the threshold into a place she could never come back from. She had to walk the path.

Tagging: @shallow-gravy @strangefable @stacispratt @eclecticwildflowers @ladyofedens-blog @florbelles @v0idbuggy @josephseedismyfather @theelderhazelnut @marivenah @josephslittledeputy @peppertheferalraccoon @neverthesameneveranother @statichvm @strafethesesinners @adelaidedrubman @clicheantagonist @voidika @confidentandgood @roofgeese

Writing tag list here to be added/removed

#wip whenever #wip wednesday #american beasts #fic: kakia #oc: kit cross

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socially-awkward-skeleton · 8 months

Text

tagged by: @direwombat and @madparadoxum (for wip last line)

tagging: @jillvalentinesday @confidentandgood @afarcry5fromstraight @nightbloodbix @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @clicheantagonist @adelaidedrubman @strafethesesinners @statichvm @neverthesameneveranother @peppertheferalraccoon @josephslittledeputy @marivenah @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @josephseedismyfather @v0idbuggy @florbelles @poetikat @ladyofedens-blog @eclecticwildflowers @shallow-gravy @cassietrn @strangefable @stacispratt @wrathfulrook @aceghosts @chazz-anova

writing tag list here to be added/removed

With the new chapter of American Beasts posted this week I haven't got anything worthwhile there to share, so have some more from Kit's Herald/Role Swap AU Kakia (warnings: for guns, violence, and straight up patricide):

There were countless times she’d pictured doing this, hurting her parents the way they’d hurt her, vengeance for how she was raised. A father’s brutal lack of love. Overbearing and cold. He treated her as no more than an offshoot of himself, just an added limb to his legacy, his memory. Nothing was ever for her, it was all for him. Selfish, conceited and controlling. Her mother’s feigned sympathy, coddling a scared and angry dog, only to try and dress it up for her own amusement. The party trick kept around to amuse the guests, no better than a piece of art on the wall, something her mother could briefly point at to draw attention to it before turning away from her as she always did.

Boots thundered on shining wood floors, polished to the point you could see your own reflection, clean enough to eat off of and God only knew with the money they were flashing it certainly wasn’t her mother on her hands and knees doing it anymore. Kit’s hand tensed around the grip of her gun, as she passed by the farmhouse style Live, Laugh, Love sign complete with scuffed chalk paint and tarnished metal corners. It was revolting. A mask slapped on top of the horrors that hid underneath, no better than sticking duct tape over a hole punched in a wall.

“Yes, do it. They deserve it.” The whisper in her head was the only accomplice she needed. “Quiet, quiet. No one will hear you. You’re almost free.”

She turned the corner down the hall and made her way to her father first. The root of all her evils. He broke her, ruined every chance she had at a life of her own. But with his death she’d find her release. No longer bound to him, cutting the cord that had held her to him since birth.

The door to his office had been shut tight – just as it always was while she was growing up – not to be disturbed. But his law of the land no longer stood with her. The door swung open, the lock clicking open of its own will, and with her gun at the ready, Kit stood in the doorway.

He barely had the time to look up from his monitor to see her. His eyes (ones that had filled her with so much guilt and shame) were spared only a moment to grow wide before a hole was made between them. The blast caused his head to snap back against the headrest, his mouth gaping open in stunned surprise as deep purple blood oozed down from the wound. With no life left in James, he slumped over, his head hitting the keyboard below, the weight of his cheek and forehead causing the keys to clack loudly in response. It was a quicker death than he deserved, but at least he left the world knowing just how excellent a weapon he had made. Quick, clean, efficient.

Unstoppable.

“Excellent. We’re almost there.” The Voice slithered in her ear, a forked tongue lapping at her lobe.

Storming the kitchen, her mother had already raced to the security unit by the back door with the sound of the gunshot, but she’d soon find she was as alone as Kit had felt for all those years with no one to turn to, no compassionate ear to listen to her problems, to take her away from the hell of another’s making. Elaine could press the alarm call button over and over and it would serve as much purpose as the cooing she would do over her daughter when she was worn down and told she was some monstrous thing, when she was told God was watching her and that He knew what she was thinking at all times, and that she needed to shape up.

Seeing the red specter of death that was her daughter enter the room caused Elaine’s heart to race, stumbling backwards into the kitchen island. “Kitty, what’re - what’re you doing here?” Her mother’s eyes glanced around the kitchen, looking for something, anything, to defend herself with, but to no avail.

Pale eyes tracked her every movement, the same way she’d been trained to. Keeping herself three steps ahead of her mother at all times. Kit lifted her gun, aiming it at her mother’s chest.

Elaine’s attention turned to the hall her daughter had come from. “You - your father - why? Why are you doing this?”

Kit’s cold, emotionless face slipped into a deep scowl. Teeth bared, she became more animal than human. Her lungs forcing out each anguished breath she’d kept locked up in the cage of her chest for so long. “You’re fucking kidding me, aren’t you?” she rasped.

“Is this because of the explosion? Some sort of PTSD? We can get you help, Kitty. I can help you.” Elaine opened her arms wide as if to accept her daughter, to embrace the burden of her own bosom.

The anger cracked, a smile pulled at her lips and a laugh trembled out of her. “You, help me? When have you ever done that?”

Watery eyes looking back at her would do nothing to dissuade Kit from her mission, and it was clear that her mother knew it all the same as she crumpled down to the floor, resting up against the kitchen cabinets in fetal position waiting out her inevitable demise, shaking like a lost lamb.

Every thought she’d ever had about her mother came true in that moment, proof positive she’d been right all along. She was weak. Pathetic. A burden beset upon the world, and Kit was doing her and the rest of mankind a favor, ridding them all of Elaine Cross.

Sobbing as the cold metal bite of the muzzle of her daughter’s gun was pressed to the top of her head, eyes the color of forget-me-nots stared up at Kit, pleading desperately with her through streams of tears and snot. “Please…what did I ever do to deserve this?”

The empty stare Elaine was met with befit the shell it belonged to. Icy eyes with a darkness to them so deep it was practically bottomless. A machine of her husband’s making, a monster made flesh from within her own rancid womb. A daughter of Cain completing her reflexive duty, something born and bred with a killer instinct.

“Ask God.”

#wip wednesday #fic: kakia #oc: kit cross #alas james and elaine you had this coming to you #the one timeline where kit gets her sweet sweet justice

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