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enigmatist17 · 25 days

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Just a fun idea that hit me after watching the shitshow that is season 3 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 2

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Bright blue eyes stare down the small gurgling bundle below in a bassinet that had seen better days.

"Are you soddin' kiddin' me?"

The baby coos at his voice, before starting to cry when he doesn't pick it up. Spike sighs, and after dabbing some blood from the poor demonic bastards that tried to kill him for snooping around, he carefully lifts the little boy up and into his arms.

"Oi, none of that fussin' now, it'll be alright." He keeps his tone soft as he rocks the little baby back and forth, the cries dying down after a few minutes. "There we are, no cryin' needed."

Spike had just been out for patrol like any other night when he'd picked up a strange scent near the docking district, the vampire zeroing in out of curiosity. Some demons had set up shop in one of the lesser-used warehouses, a mostly militant group judging by the fact they were all on a constant lookout, guarding the source of the strange scent while they seemed to just wait.

It was a baby, small thing that he couldn't pretend to guess the age of, crying out constantly for comfort.

So, gracious man he was, Spike went to town before the demons knew what hit them. He was two demons down when he realized the baby had stopped crying and started giggling at the violence around it, and Spike couldn't help but laugh along with it. Now, here he was, the Slayer of Slayer's holding a baby that smelled like his grandsire and was hungry with the way it was wiggling.

"Right...uh, let's get you somethin' ta drink yea?"

He feels a little bad leaving the baby in a shopping basket outside of a grocery store when he breaks in to steal formula and other baby things, but it was better than trying to balance a wiggling bundle with his stolen goods. Luckily, the little tyke was fine, and after a quick trip to his crypt to feed and change the little guy, Spike was glad the baby finally falls asleep, wrapped up in his duster as the vampire didn't really have anything better at the moment. He knows that something bad must have gone down to separate Angel from his kid, which in and of itself was a shock, and he winces at the beginning of dawn on the horizon.

"Looks like it's you an' me until tomorrow kid, then off to L.A to the big poofter." Thankfully, the kid sleeps through most of the day, allowing Spike to rest before getting up to prepare for the trip. Anything he doesn't mind losing is packed neatly in the trunk of his DeSoto, and Clem is happy to watch his place until his return, his friend bringing a car seat with a grin.

"You weren't going to drive all the way to L.A without the little guy being safe, right?"

"Who, me? Nah." Clem's stare is all the response he gets, and it's not long after the vampire is heading out of town, the baby laughing along with Spike when he mows down the Sunnydale sign on the way out.

"That's a good lad!" The drive to the City of Angel's was relatively boring all things considered, Spike whistling as he fiddled with the radio. "Just you and me kiddo, open road and all that."

The baby laughed, kicking his little feet when Spike landed on an acceptable song, the vampire fighting the urge to throw his hands up. "You're definitely Angel's kid, bloody Barry Manilow..."

Eventually, the city appears over the horizon, Spike driving with one hand while feeding the little blighter with his other one. He'd had to stop to fix the little guy up a fresh bottle at a random gas station, allowing the attendant to fuss over the little guy while he waited for the bottle to get warmed up. Whistling along to one of his songs, Spike advanced into the city, admittedly a bit lost on where Angel's bloody hotel was as he scanned the less populated streets. It took about two hours to finally nail down the Hyperion, Spike nearly slamming on the breaks when he was about a block away from the pure scent of anger and despair that slammed his senses, getting enough of a grip to continue until he parks just behind the hotel.

"Okay little thing, your Da' needs you somethin' fierce." Spike cooed to the baby before unbuckling the infant and swaddling him back in the duster, fighting every instinct telling him to flee as he headed for the hotel's garden entrance.

"Ello?" Surprisingly, the lobby was empty, Spike adjusting his hold on the baby as he looked around. "Anyone 'ere?"

"Coming!" Someone yelled from a floor above, and Spike waited a bit impatiently as he heard someone running. "Sorry about that, welcome to Angel Inves-" A shorter woman Spike had never seen stopped in her tracks, eyes zeroing in on the bundle in his arms after she remembered to breathe.

"'Ello luv, reckon you can help me find Angel?" Spike plastered on a smile, lightly bouncing the infant when he cooed in his sleep. "Found somethin' of his."

"Um..." The woman stammered before sprinting back up the staircase she'd come down from, Spike's hackles raising even further than they already were about a minute later as there was a sharp change in the air.

"Here we go kiddo, keep Uncle Spike alive, yea?" He whispered as he shifted into his demon face, looking at the stairs. Angel appeared in the blink of an eye, his own demon out, and his yellow eyes bore into Spike's own. The man looked like shit, his clothes clearly days old and dark rings circling his eyes from lack of sleep, his skin shades paler than Spike had seen in a long while.

"I didn't do nothin' to yer kid, all healthy an' everything." Spike led the conversation with a slight grin, glad he no longer had a beating heart to betray his nervousness as the older man regarded him in silence.

"Where?" Angel has moved his eyes to the infant, those amber eyes softening back to brown as the demon retreated. "Was he hurt?"

"No, some group had him, waitin' for orders I reckon for whatever they had planned." Spike held still as Angel slowly began to approach, the air still sharp with rage and heartache. "How long?"

"Two months." The strangled response he let out almost took Spike off-guard, hazel eyes flickering up to his own. "Can I?"

"The fuck am I gonna do with a kid?" Spike scoffed, his hands gentle as he set the infant in his father's arms. "Want my duster back, when he's all comfy anyways."

"Yea..." Angel wobbled as he looked down at his son. Choosing to be nice, Spike pushed Angel against the couch behind him before he had a chance to drop, face shifting back to its human visage when Angel let out a low growl.

"What's a bloke gotta do to get some blood 'round here?" Spike ignored the warning as he looked around, seeing a set of offices behind a large desk with a hum.

"Move, and you're dust." A voice from behind him stopped Spike in his tracks, and the familiar clink of a loaded crossbow made him roll his eyes. "Angel, you okay man?"

"Mind tellin' your bleedin' pets to let a man drink in peace? I was nice and everything."

"He's not going to do anything, Gunn, leave him alone." Angel's tired voice cut through the tension without much effort. "Could you get me some clothes for Connor, and check on Wes?"

"You got it, man." Gunn hesitated before heading back upstairs with the smaller woman from before. Spike flipped him off before going to Angel's office for a proper drink, only to find that most of the blood in the fridge had gone way bad.

"Peaches, 'ave you been eating?" Spike grabbed a beer before returning to the lobby, getting a blank look as his response. "You're an idiot."

"Accurate." A voice Spike did recognize agreed with him, Cordelia descending the stairs with a basket in her arms full of stuff for the baby. "Speaking of didn't realize you were back, Spike."

"Cordelia," Spike gave her a small nod when she looked over, the same exhaustion and grief that Angel had mirrored in her eyes. He was fairly surprised to see how easily she took the kid from Angel's arms, putting Angel to work preparing a changing space with a raise of her eyebrow. "So, little blighter's called Connor?"

"Mhm, that's right." Cordelia bounced little Connor as she regarded the younger vampire. "You didn't know?"

"You think Peaches 'ere would tell me? You're off your nut you are." Spike flopped down onto a free chair with a scof, sipping his beer. "Do have a question, bloody how?"

"Darla got pregnant because of some mystical mumbo jumbo." Cordelia shrugged, jumping when Spike choked on his beer.

"Darla got pregnant?!" The vampire stared as Cordelia handed Angel his son. "Also when was Darla bloody alive again?!"

"Man, you really are out of the loop, huh?" The former Sunnydale resident put her hands on her hips with an amused look. "Let's get dad here all set and in bed, and I'll fill you in."

"Toss in beer, and I'll be good." Spike shrugged, downing whatever was left, as Angel rolled his eyes at the two. He had changed Connor and swaddled him in a blanket rather than leather, setting the duster aside.

"I am here you know."

"Uh huh." Spike grinned, getting out of his seat and grabbing his coat. "Thanks for my coat back little guy, makin' yer Uncle Spike proud that you liked it so much."

"Uncle Spike?" Angel's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at that, his childe giving a cheeky grin as he began to follow Cordelia and Angel up and further into the hotel. "Oh no."

"I saved 'im from a soddin' demon group, I think that earns me an Uncle title." Spike whistled, Connor squealing in laughter at his voice. "See? Loves me already he does!" Angel groaned as the trio headed up a floor, the smell of blood hitting Spike in the face the second his foot hit the landing. "Someone's hurt."

"Our friend Wesley, he tried to stop the guy responsible for taking Connor and got his throat cut for it." Cordelia supplied when she noticed him sniffing the air. "Touch him and you'll be dead before Angel can blink."

"On my best behavior." He smiled, amused yet impressed with how calm she was. "Who tried to steal a bloody baby?"

"Holtz." Angel couldn't stop the snarl that escaped him at the name, Spike blinking in shock as he followed his grandsire down the hall. "Made a deal, came back to kill me but tried to steal my fucking son instead."

"I'm assumin' he's dead and gone?"

"Something like that." Spike shivered as Angel finally stopped at a door and entered his room after Cordelia opened it for him, the younger watching the two curiously. Angel clearly had something with the Cordelia girl, handing her his son once more without hesitation to drag a crib over to his bed, Cordelia sliding up to his side as if anticipating his arms reaching for Connor. Seeing Angel practically melt at a gentle hand on his cheek as he was guided to sit on his bed was surprising; he was lying back and holding his son close despite the fact Spike was only feet away.

"I'm going to get fangboy caught up, you better sleep or so help me Angel." Cordelia smiles as she heads for the door, a stake Spike didn't see before being twirled in one of her hands. "Treat a lady to 10pm coffee?"

"Course luv." Ever so chivalrous Spike offered her his arm, the other pausing before taking it with a hum. "Tell me where to go yea?"

Twenty minutes later, the two were sitting in a coffee shop, Spike hanging on to her every word. Cordelia filled Spike in on everything he'd missed over the last year, leaving him absolutely speechless by the end. What the hell was he supposed to think, startled that Wolfram and Hart could even bring back dead vampires, but that it somehow resulted in a vampiric child that should not have been remotely possible. Cordelia watches as he sips his coffee a few times, emotions she can't quite place swirling around in those brilliant blue eyes before he looks up with a shrug.

"Sounds like L.A is a lot of fun."

Cordelia shrugged and sipped her caffeine, leaning forward with a small grin.

"So, tell me what's been up with you?"

#personal #angel the series #buffy the vampire slayer #spike #spike btvs #conner #connor angel the series #angel #angel btvs #cordelia chase #charles gunn #fred burkle #one shot #short fic

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arsene-fixates · 29 days

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Misc. SN character rambling (Gordon Byron)

I very few screenshots for whatever I’m going to ramble about on another character in seekers notes so you’re going to have to take my word for it. This is not an analysis btw i just want to talk about this guy for a bit

There’s this character, Gordon Byron, or Hyperion <- name he picked for himself I will elaborate later.

His family (made up of him, his mother, and his cousin) is a descendant of one of the founders of Darkwood (the city) and though I didn’t read too much into him, I thought his character development was quite interesting

going to be a bit long since i'm running through him as a character, spoilers under the cut

Backstory was that he had run away from home with his beloved that went missing when the curse fell upon the city but returned after realizing that he had responsibilities being the family's heir and such.

He's very quiet as a character, kept to books and nature and is a pretty big romantic but when he came back, and through the story he started getting invested in his family's history, aka. one of the founders named nostromo and his powers etc etc and also taking more initiative to help the city via. paying funds for damages and suggesting new things to keep the townspeople safe

okay to be honest theres some collecting crystal infinity stone level thing going on in the story and there's this section in the plot where gordon and i had to dive underwater to look for a stone tablet depicting one of the missing steps to getting one of the crystals

and some explosion happens and i get shot out of the water, leaving him underwater and the other characters and i are all panicking because the water breathing potion we took had some timing to it and he was about to die or something

but he emerges soon enough, with the gauntlet belonging to the founder equipped in his hand, and you can tell that this power was getting to his head

at this point, i was filling philiah in on the lore and i told her 'i think it would be really profound if he let the power get to him and influence him negatively' and lo and behold.

anyways carrying on, he started really embracing the name hyperion (a pseudonym he made up himself because if i can remember right, all the other founders also had one themselves) and having his own group of specialised guards.

then some attack happened on the city again where ghostly creatures appeared (summoned by the antagonist), and after gordon fought them off, he decided to set a curfew & interrogate all the townspeople because they could be people from a crime organisation (called the shadows) in disguise

cough cough side note, informant was telling me about how his guard kept going trying to capture him and he was frustrated that not only did he have to run from the crime organisation but he also had to run from the guard too lol.

and holy shit theres this section that especially got me where he was asking me for an update on the crystals and i told him it was going alright, letting on a little more detail than i liked and he then asks me to find more of this truth potion for him and then he says this

he slipped a truth potion !!! !! !! !!!! unknowingly!!!!!! to me!! HOLAY MOLAY!!!. and when i went to talk to charlotte, she tells me about how some of the people who took the potion were down with pretty bad illnesses and fevers. THAT IS SO WILD.

he had to be suspended of his role and his guard operations after he nearly endangered the lives of the members of the crime organisation

THERES A LOT OF STUFF THAT HAPPENS INBETWEEN BUT ITS PRETTY BIZZARE BECAUSE HIS ANGER GETS THE BETTER OF HIM (and they really did show that he gets angry easily)

holay molay this guy.

i like what they're doing here, it's really interesting ^_^ LOVE THAT THEY DID ACTUAL BUILD UP INSTEAD OF WHATEVER THEY DID WITH INFORMANT!!!!! love to see what happens to him later because currently the city is going through YET another world ending disaster and i (the seeker) have to save them.

#THEY CAN HAVE GOOD WRITING BITS!! LOVE IN THE WORLD #just wanted to talk about this guy caus he wus interesting #seekers notes #Gordon Byron (SN)#Character Rambling (SN)#<- i'll make that the tag sure.

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dragonsbled · 11 months

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Some quick facts about my dragon princess🔥

- maegor the cruel did have one living child. The child was taken away, thought to be stillborn. When one of the midwives found it not to be true, they snuck out of the palace with the child and fled the city to start a new life in Essos to keep the child safe. That was Lyssa’s mother, Rhagella Targaryen, who grew up being kept out of the public eye so no one would know who she was.

- she showed up to court when Viserys was announcing his daughter as his heir. No one knew of her existence until that day when she came to king’s landing on her dragon to fight for her claim.

- Lyssa is a striking image of visenya. Maesters would describe her as being battled hardened and stubborn.

- She fights for team black

- she’s 28 years old and has been in many battles with Hyperion. She has several scars including one large one on her cheek. Many say that’s why she’s never taken another husband.

- she was formerly married to the eldest hightower male, but he died in battle.

- she lost Hyperion in a battle against Aegon and Sunfire pretty early on in the dance.

- she would fight alongside Daemon in the battle above the gods eye. Where she would would debut her first battle with Vermithor, who she claimed with Daemons help after she lost Hyperion. She and Vermithor would be the only survivors.

#asoif/got #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd oc #hotd fanfic #asoiaf oc

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herrscherrofyatta · 2 years

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hii omg i love your fu hua posts <3 if you take requests could you please write one where fu hua's gf from the previous era (who also entered the cryopods and is alive in the current era) meets the hyperion crew and maybe hua gets teased ahahaha if you don't sorry to bother you and have a nice day :)

I'm glad you love my Fu Hua posts and my requests are always opened for Fu Hua requests ✨so please, keep requesting lol

✧ this a Fu Hua theme blog✧

You and Fu Hua have been in a relationship for the last 50,000 years, basically since the start of it all. You were there when everyone in the city you two were grew up in was killed during the Honkai invasion, leaving you and Hua the sole survivors. At that point, the relationship was still fresh and you tried your best to be her pillar when she realized what was happening and the news of her father being potentially deceased.

You always tried to cheer her up, you were by her side when you two joined up against the fight against the Honkai, entered the cyropods, was apart of the era where Hua was seen as a celestial being and a flame chaser and up to the point where she began to work for Otto. When she was killed by him, you decided to work against him, joining Theresa's crew members.

No one knew of your relationship and not that you even tried to hide it either, people just assumed that you two cared deeply for each other since you two were always together when attending St. Freya a year ago. You were mainly in the background when everything went down, it was Fu Hua's way of keeping you safe since you mainly kept your distance from Otto and everyone else.

It wasn't until you two were crossing the bridge of Kolosten when you two stopped upon hearing Kiana's voice from behind.

"Fu Hua! Y/n!"

The bluish-purplish haired girl smiles at Kiana while you acknowledged her with a nod of your head.

"Where are you two heading?" She asks you two. (I honestly forgot if Kiana and Hua had this conversation before they defeated Otto or after so.....)

"We're heading to the place we used to live when we were brought by Otto a couple years ago (I think it was like 50 years ago?). We wanted to see how it is now, I'm sure it's covered in dust, isn't that right, Hua?" You ask her and she just smiles at you before responding.

"The last time we were there, it was cleaned by you, I wouldn't be surprised if it collected dust bunnies." You let out a quiet laugh at this.

Kiana giggles at this, "You guys owned a house together?" You nod your head and gesture towards the chain gate that blocked off the backyard of some buildings. "We lived just behind those buildings, Hua never liked using paths where the resident would see us so we always used the allyways." You explain.

"Sometimes we wouldn't use them since N/n would complain about taking the long way."

You shot a playful glare at Hua, "hey, I just wanted us to fit in with everyone here. I hated seeing how sad and bothered you were when everyone looked at us like outsiders....well we were but still."

Kiana laughs at this, "You two know each other so well. Oh! That's right, Fu Hua told me you two knew each other for a long time."

The three of you continue the walk to your old home, you look at the town as you reply to white haired girl.

"Yes, we were together ever since the start of everything. We went to the same school, attended the same classes, always hanged out after school with another friend, her name was Carole." You began to feel nostalgic about the last, unlike Hua, you remember everything. Of course, there were consequences like having major headaches and such things but you wouldn't trade anything for those memories of being with Fu Hua.

You three looked at the buildings, pointing at some you recognized, "remember when the boy that lived in that house would always follow us around and when we noticed him, he would hide."

Fu Hua's face began to grow red, she clearly remembered this, "until one day, you confronted him and that's when he confessed his dying love for little old me." You tease her and you walked ahead of them, giggling to your since you made Hua blush which you couldn't always do.

Kiana listened in, smiling at this before glancing at Fu Hua to see her face bright red that even the tip of her ears were steaming red.

She tilts her head, a bit confused before hearing you calling out to them, you were standing by the rails, looking down. They approached you, "there, we lived there."

Kiana let the way while you and Hua followed close behind. She slipped her hand in yours as you two stood in front of old home.

"This is the place." Hua whispers, Kiana looks around but doesn't see anything in the front. "There used to be a feather Y/n hanged up, she said 'to make it feel like home' she said." You smile at her before noticing Kiana with her eyes closed, focusing.

Kiana could somehow use like a 6th sense when she arrived at Kolosten.

She opens her eyes and in her hand, a single pink with f/c feather was there and you gasp, making the girl next to you move her gaze from the house onto you.

"Is this the feather?" Kiana holds it out for you two to see it and you smile. Hua nods her head while you go over to open the door, of course it was locked and the door was stuck. Sighing at this, Hua places her hand on your shoulder, handing you the feather that clearly remember putting up to make the place feel like a home.

You wrap your arms around her, placing a quick peck on her lips before going back to trying to open the door. With your back faced to them, you didn't see Kiana's shocked face at what she was witness.

"wait....are you two?" She's dumbfounded and you let out a small 'yes' when you managed to pick lock the door to get inside. You stroll in after you used force to get the door open, leaving Hua and Kiana outside to speak between themselves.

"You're dating Y/n?!" She screams at Fu Hua who blinks at her before realizing that someone else had witness an affection gesture between them. "Since when?!" She shakes her, trying to get an answer from Hua who is getting flustered by the second.

"Now everything makes sense!?" Kiana continues on, "I never thought you were with anyone, wait, how come you never told anyone?"

Fu Hua sighs, "we never hid anything from anyone, we've been together for as long as I can remember."

Kiana leans in and in a whisper tone, she made sure you couldn't hear them form inside, "hey, since you two been together all this time, have you two done anything lewd-"

"Kiana! That is not appropriate." Kiana grins at this before they jump at the sound of you coming back out.

"Hua! Look, I found the little plushie I knitted of you!" You told it up for them to see only to see how Kiana face grew into something that reminded you of a old friend who made basically stories of exaggerating versions of you two.

"K-kiana, why are you looking at me like that?"

She turns around and begins to run, "I'm tell everyone at the Hyperion!"

Your face along with Fu Hua goes pale at this, "wait! No! Kiana! Stop!" You yell, running after her, leaving Fu Hua back at the house.

"Kiana!?"

The girl laughs before sticking her tongue out to you before screaming when she see Fu Hua running rapidly behind you with a dangerous glint her eyes."Gah?!?"

"We can talk this out Fu Hua!?"

Everyone at the Hyperion knew as soon as the three of you made it back, the news spread fast for you and Fu Hua to answer everyone's questions.

A/n: ahhh, I hope you like this ;;;; sorry for the long wait!

Masterlist

#honkai impact x reader #honkai impact #honkai x reader #honkai 3rd #fu hua x reader #fu hua #fu hua honkai

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ofdreamsanddoodles · 3 years

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Hey idk if you’re the best person to ask and I’m not trying to start anything, I don’t mean this disrespectfully but why is the new poster artist art problematic?? I’m just not very educated on the subject :)

first of all, i'd recommend looking at this post from thegrinningwheels going over the mistakes people make when drawing peter because this definitely plays into some of them. also, disclaimer that i am white, and if anyone else wants to jump in, feel free. before i start, i'd like to mention this screenshot:

[id: a screenshotted twitter thread containing three tweets. 1. jay onetiredboy (@onetiredb0y) can i ask why you'd want to distance the official art from your previous artworks? is there a particular criticism you'd like to directly address? or... ... 2. Ellison Estephan (@/ellisonestephan) I like to draw goofy stuff as a fan! I thought it would be more professional to make sure people remember that stuff isn't "official art" or something now, just because I'm drawing some posters haha!! 3. *sighs* hyperion city... (@junosteel [rest is cut off]) with all due respect, you can just say that your art perpetuated racism/transmisogyny/ableism without hiding behind "haha its goofy." better to at least be transparent and address it than dancing around the issue an acknowledging it as goofy. own up to your mistakes pls. /end id]

as well as this response to harley kaner saying that people sometimes called others racist to justify bullying them (a post made about an hour or so after the artist was announced)

so they know they messed up but... yeah they're not gonna apologize

(a link to the junoverse designs for anyone who wants to follow along)

for starter’s, the way peter is drawn feels a bit like a caricature, to the point of drawing on transmisogynistic stereotypes. (stereotypes that are like, ten times more visible in their art of vespa, who is actually trans fem which i’ll get to in a second) the intersection of what it means to be a feminine gnc person and being a poc are many and varied, and there is definitely a lot to say about femininity being seen as wrong and shameful. there's a lot of history in how Asian men's femininity has been portrayed and sexualised, both in fandom & in the world at large, and sometimes white authors just aren’t capable of handling those points with care. as much as i would love to celebrate a gnc character design, i think it's safe to say that this artist's depiction of a hyper-feminine nureyev feels like a mockery rather than honest representation

also, it may not be intentional, but when you have a line-up & you're drawing the lighter characters (or at least nureyev and buddy) much more sultry & sexual than the darker ones.... that tells me something about how you view people of color. especially when the sexual way you draw those lighter characters has nothing to do with their character

a line up like this is supposed to give you an indication of character personality. this is supposed to be how you're going to present them to the world. both buddy and peter use their charisma to their advantage sometimes, but that charisma is based on their personality! though he's absolutely flirted to get what he wants, peter tries to give off the vibes of a suave gentleman. if he’s wearing a tie, it’s not going to be haphazardly put on, because he cares about his appearance. peter can be sexual, but it’s not really the way he presents himself to the world at large, and this version of him goes so far it feels like some kind of parody of ouran host club or something, which makes me feel like it’s mocking him rather than trying to honestly portray his character.

buddy meanwhile has never flirted with anyone but her wife and gets her way with confidence & force. that exaggerated body type would already be a bad look on its own because of the hypersexual way people view women of color, but with added context, it kind of feels like there's the implication that the only way these characters could be as cool & charismatic as they are is if they get their way with sex, which is just... incredibly racist

some of it is just an issue with the art style in general. a lot of cartoonish styles have exaggerated features, but there's a limit to how much you can exaggerate those features without just drawing actual stereotypes. alessandra's design makes me uncomfortable for the exact opposite reason as buddy's: cartoonishly gigantic muscles aren't really a great sight when black women are constantly seen as hypermasculine. i might be a bit too critical on this one? i feel like it was worse when i first looked at it, but there's still the fact that exaggerating an asian character's eyelids is racist. it's like. racism 101. both peter and quanyi have incredibly slitted eyes in the majority of their art & personally the way quanyi specifically is exaggerated makes her seem more…. manic, somehow? the way her eyes are lidded aren’t only racist, but make it seem like she’s constantly giving everyone bedroom eyes which is just. Oof

vespa i wanted to talk about in more detail, because there is literally not one element of this design that doesn’t scream bigotry. It reminds me so much of every terrible caricature of a trans woman i’ve seen in horror. The wild bloodshot eyes, the bloody nose, the dagger, the unkept hair & hairy armpits, the wardrobe malfunction revealing a bare chest for no other reason than shock value alone—because how else are we supposed to know what kind of woman she is? There’s already been so many films & just, media in general linking trans women to mental illness and violence. We absolutely didn’t need a vespa design that looks like she belongs in silence of the lambs. If this was just vespa holding a knife, that’d be fine! She does, canonically, have a knife that she uses. But everything about this vespa is designed to look as offputting as possible. She doesn’t look dangerous because she’s part of our cool crime family, she looks out of control. Which is exactly how vespa worries the world will see her! Taking a character who says, pretty up front that she wants to be seen as more than her violent urges & mental illness and then drawing her in a way that screams “look out! This person is dangerous and mentally ill!” is honestly unforgivable. Add that to the fact that everything about her appearance implies she’s doing womanhood “wrong” (obviously, not shaving should be considered a neutral thing, but when it’s only a trans woman character you show with hair, it’s worth considering why you feel the need to do something like that) including the fact she’s going around with her shirt slipped like that, which looks obviously oversized to fill a chest she doesn’t have. One of the first things i learned about writing trans characters is that you should never reveal a character is trans by taking a moment to emphasize how different their body looks from a cis person, be it through having someone else walk in on them in the shower or this. It’s voyeuristic and serves no purpose but to make someone’s gender seem like a dramatic twist instead of an identity that deserves respect, and if a trans artist can’t even understand that, then there’s no hope of them accurately representing literally anyone else.

according to a friend, this art had been drawn before vespa was confirmed as trans (but reposted after, so clearly they didn’t see an issue either way) but that just means they saw an angry, schizophrenic woman & decided to not just make her a harmful stereotype of a pyschotic person, but add insult to injury by making her trans as well.

This has gone on too long & i can’t type anymore, but i wanted to say the second citadel designs really aren’t any better. Every character they chose to make a poc implies something negative, such as making marc and tal the only knights of color & then placing them as nothing more than comic relief. Maybe i could believe this was part of an effort to show the white characters as part of the oppressive class if it wasn’t for didn’t seem clear that we’re supposed to see the brothers as a pair of bumbling fools. Not to mention every single other bad thing they did

EDIT: i want to emphasize that just because i’ve only talked about the junoverse designs doesn’t mean the citadel designs aren’t also worth an apology. so far, the only thing ellison has said (aside from them calling the initial line up “goofy”) is this tweet, but when they say “i wouldn’t draw those characters like that now,” that apology doesn’t acknowledge the fact that multiple people on twitter have criticized quanyi’s design for some of the reasons mentioned above. it also rings a bit more hollow when they say “i wish i could go back and design things different” because this citadel line-up was posted in late august. if you’re incline to go “well, this was in the past, and they apologized” (and i do see some proof they changed their vespa design) i’d like to remind you that some of their most recent drawings were in fact, last month, and there has been no acknowledgement they understand what was wrong with that. whoever was involved in getting a new artist for the penumbra saw these racist & homophobic designs and agreed that someone who drew that material was someone they wanted to align themselves with.

And remember, this is the second time the penumbra podcast has worked with an artist with blatantly bigoted art (the first being tumblr user disasterscenario) and i remember plenty of people explaining exactly what was wrong with that art as well. Whatever chance you think they have to learn and improve—they had it! And in response, this is what they gave us

#ask #the penumbra podcast #tpp #This definitely isn’t all i could say but hopefully it’s enough #Like i barely went into the citadel designs but a white person should definitely not be making a monkey girl brown #note: some of this has been edited for phrasing & etc #also #i didnt explain a part well & it wasnt actually super relevant so i deleted it

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forlornfig · 3 years

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You know for all the shit you could talk on Jack or Ramses or whomever, he achieved exactly what he wanted.

His biggest source of pride and guilt (Andromeda) never had a home because he hadn’t built himself one yet.

And he did! He made a home for people, a home where they would be safe and ‘happy’. The kind of place that- in theory- a hero would be proud to come home to.

Don’t get me wrong, he is a horrible, manipulative, ass of a man, who went about his life doing the wrong things to serve his own hero complex. He saw himself in Andromeda, and I think that’s why he felt so strongly that he direct that project exactly to his liking.

He is a hero in the very worst sense of the word. He slammed his way through to the top and put his priorities and greater good before others.

After all, who could be more important than the man who would save Hyperion city?

#the penumbra podcast #tpp #juno steel #tpp season 2 #jack takano #ramses o'flaherty #hyperion #Polaris park #Im not sure if this is coherent or not #just had a lot of thoughts #juno steel and the man of the future

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blue-mood-blue · 4 years

Text

They tell him that his name is Benzaiten Steel.

They tell him that he’s been shot.

Officially, publicly, his condition is unknown - they haven’t released any details yet, pending the investigation. As he understands it, the investigation amounts to his mother and brother pointing to each other in accusation, both of them held in separate interview rooms of the HCPD while Ben lays in his hospital bed. They were hoping he could give them answers, Ben realizes when the doctor and the officer both hover around his door uncertainly before turning to go.

But Ben doesn’t remember anything. He can’t tell them if his brother in law enforcement went corrupt or if his mentally ill mother finally slipped too far. If it was an argument, or an accident, or which of his incredibly small family is more likely to lie. He wouldn’t have been able to tell them his name if they hadn’t told him first, because Ben hardly remembers anything at all.

It’s the head injury, the nurse tells him at two in the morning while she gives him more pain medication. Not from the blast, which had caught him in the shoulder and was more than enough damage to a body on its own, according to her. He must have hit his head on something on the way down, gave himself a nasty bump and some swelling. Nothing to worry about too much, she added quickly after getting a good glance at Ben’s expression. Just... just the memories might not come back. Hard to tell with these things.

Ben chews over the possibility after she leaves, slipping in and out of sleep. He should want to know, right? He should be searching for those memories, and the way he fit between them. He should be looking for himself... looking for the truth.

There are two people in his family. One of them shot him. He can’t imagine a truth there that wouldn’t tear him in two anyway.

Ben takes a moment to pity whoever it was he used to be - must’ve had a sad life, in the middle of that mess. Couldn’t possibly have been happy, in that little apartment in Oldtown, no one to call or contact besides the people led away in handcuffs. Such a small, tiring existence... didn’t he feel stifled, trapped? He does now. He thinks about going back to that, and he can’t breathe.

Ben looks at the window instead. He can make out some stars, but only a few - it’s hard to see much around the light pollution and the dome. He doesn’t remember, but logic tells him he hasn’t lived the kind of life that’s ever taken him off of Mars; he’s never seen any of those stars, or the planets around them, or their moons - not really. He thinks he might like to, and it’s almost a surprise when the thought comes to him; it’s as if his mind has been cleared of some dome hemming him in, holding him in place, and now there’s room to want. Ben feels untethered, adrift... free. Free in a way he knows, somehow, he’s never been before.

It’s a heady feeling. For the first time since waking, Ben smiles. He could be free. He could reach up to those stars and never come back down.

Benzaiten Steel might not remember anything about himself, but he learns that he’s a good actor. When the officer comes back with more questions, Ben tells them he’s afraid for his life, more afraid because he doesn’t know who or what to fear. “Be honest,” he asks, voice shaking with something (not fear, but the officer doesn’t know that). “Do you think this could happen again? Am I really safe?”

Benzaiten Steel is declared dead, and Ben boards a ship.

~~~

He still calls himself Ben; everything else, he cuts away and leaves behind as deadweight. He’s Ben Nothing, Ben Nobody, and he runs between the stars like there’s something chasing him. He finds work where he can, and he finds that the most lucrative work is the illegal kind. He finds that he’s good at it, charming people with a smile or disarming them with a few tears, and then liberating them from whatever they have in their pocket, or safe, or bank account.

Ben is happy. Ben is competent, secure, well-liked in the circles he moves through. Ben is as free as he ever wanted to be, in this life or any other. And if he feels like something unnamed is breathing down his neck some days, well, he is a thief, isn’t he? There’s always someone after him, law enforcement on several planets at least. If he avoids Mars and anywhere too close to that little, red planet, it’s his own business. There’s not much on Mars, anyway; only the Cerberus Province and the connections he could make there, and it’s a small sacrifice to make for all of the things he gets to see.

Ben isn’t lonely. He just feels a little adrift sometimes.

And it’s years before anything catches him.

He has a jewel that toppled a dynasty with the conflict it caused hidden in his pocket, and he slips into a dark, mostly empty theater to wait out the afternoon and the authorities. He already has a spot waiting for him on a ship traveling several planets away, but it won’t take off for hours. He has plenty of time.

Ben pulls out his comms to waste some hours, ignoring the movie playing on the screen; a kids’ movie, probably with the hope that whole families would make the effort of taking a trip to the theater to spend time together. It was a bad gamble, with the only person there other than Ben asleep in a chair in the corner. Ben snorts; kind of a stupid thought, that anyone would bother when they could stream whatever old movies they wanted directly to their home.

He’s in the middle of a game when he looks up at the screen. There’s a woman fighting a dragon, and he isn’t sure what caught his attention until it happens again.

“Andromeda!” someone on the screen yells.

Ben’s head hurts.

Andromeda! a younger Benzaiten yells. He can feel the warm sun beating down on him, the familiar sounds of shouting down a street somewhere too far away to worry about. His voice, thin and reedy and so young, makes its best attempt at a growl. You will never escape me!

“You will never escape me!”

His head throbs, and he could cry with how much it hurts.

I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight, because good must always succeed! Someone with his face answers back, swinging a sword made of paper towel rolls and too much duct tape, and then breaks from the script: And I’m faster than you anyway, Benten, so I can escape whenever I want to.

For a moment, he rests on the divide between Ben and Benzaiten. If he tries, he could pull back - but he also knows he could no more let go of that voice than tear his own heart out.

Juno. A knowledge from the long-dormant pieces of him whispers an answer he doesn’t ask for, as it drags the whole of his messy, painful history with it. That’s Juno. Your twin. Your family.

Benzaiten is still crying, hurt radiating from his head and his chest, and there’s no one around to care so he doesn’t stop. He watches the stupid movie three times, then boards a ship and tries to hide the evidence with makeup and a bright smile. He’s two planets away by the time he thinks about going back, all the way back, and by the time he’s three planets away he’s decided that it would be a ridiculous idea.

It’s been years. Fuck, it’s been so many years. Does Juno live in the same place? What if he’s married now; out of the two of them, he was always the one looking for someone to hold onto him. Would he even want to see Ben?

The answer should be yes, but Ben’s not an idiot, he knows reality is more complicated. Juno buried him, and mourned for him, and maybe even started to heal - and Ben had run. Run without looking back, leaving a death certificate and open wounds behind him.

Is Sarah still alive?

The question stops him cold, staring through the window and the pieces of galaxy he’s passing. If Sarah is alive, he would have to see her, too. That’s a promise he made himself a long time ago - that he wouldn’t choose between them. He was the one who held the family together. He’d always been that.

The Benzaiten in his head, the person he isn’t sure he is yet - anymore - tells him she loves you.

Ben, here and now, tells him she shot you.

Both of those things are true. And when Ben pulls away from the window, he tells himself that’s what he’s afraid of, that someone he loved hurt him and could do it again, that he might let them in the foolish, stupid need to find out if the love was still there somewhere under all of the hurt. To know trying hard enough could mean getting better.

If there’s another fear, if he can feel the gravity of Mars pulling him back and down and heavy, he doesn’t let himself think it. And he’s gotten pretty good at deception, so he might even believe it.

~~~

Ben dances more, when he remembers dancing. Nothing feels as free as the movement, as his total control over it. Not even the stars.

How much of his running was escape, and how much was just running?

~~~

He still calls himself Ben.

He has his reasons. “Benzaiten” is too memorable, and sharing a face and a last name with a sibling seems like a really good way to get that sibling into trouble. There’s a reputation in place already with the name he used. There are days when he doesn’t feel like he fits in Benzaiten’s life. He finds plenty of reasons.

He doesn’t visit. He thinks about it, comes close - as close as a planet and one ticket fare away, once - but Ben can’t bring himself to step foot in Hyperion City. Hyperion belongs to Juno, somehow. He was the one who stayed (I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight), and going home feels like... trespassing. Ben knows Juno wouldn’t say that. It doesn’t stop him from thinking it.

Hyperion City has a newspaper, though, and a subscription service that seems a little optimistic in its range. Maybe not all that optimistic, since Ben regularly takes advantage of it - between jobs, and only on his personal comms. Most of it has nothing to do with him, but he skips and skims through the digitized pages anyway, looking for whatever hints of a life he can find. Juno is a private investigator now, which doesn’t surprise Ben. There’s an engagement announcement and no following marriage announcement, which does.

(Sarah is guilty, and dead, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t linger on the thought.)

Sometimes, when he feels brave, he imagines what it could be like. So what’s this about a gala at that new art gallery? You know, the one that lasted a whole night before it got blown up?

Juno’s laughter from the other side of the comms connection, maybe a little too young. Uh huh, I heard. The HCPD put it all over the news, along with how they saved the day. Or didn’t you hear that part?

They can say whatever they want, I know a Juno Steel case when I see one. Now, Ben adjusts on the bed, miles and miles away, glancing at the window to see if he can get a peek back the way he came, tell me everything.

Maybe the next time you come to see me, Juno says, and just like that the thought disintegrates. He can never put too many words in Juno’s mouth; there are just too many things he doesn’t know.

Ben gets lucky one day and sees a whole half a picture of Juno, looking out on a crowd. He’s not the focus - he’s standing next to some politician in the middle of a speech, a Ramses O’Flaherty who makes a lot of promises that sound like the “too good to be true, but wouldn’t it be nice” kind - but Ben will take what he can get. He can’t decide if Juno has more or less scars than he would have expected, given his line of work. He wonders how they all got there. Juno is standing on the stage with the politician; he must buy some of those promises to put himself so clearly in the man’s corner.

There’s a kind of worry in his gut about it, but Ben tries to take it as a good sign. The Juno he knew had a hard time trusting people; it would be nice if he’d found someone to believe in. It would be nice if that trust is well-placed.

Ben has to leave his comms behind for a job, taking a burner along instead, so he gets the results of the election at the same time he gets the announcement of O’Flaherty’s death and the conspiracy over Newtown. It doesn’t have to mean anything - just another politician who wasn’t what he seemed to be, or didn’t manage to hang on long enough to make good on his promises. That’s all it is.

He still looks for Juno in the stories he reads. He can’t seem to find him, anymore.

~~~

For the first time since they were nineteen, Benzaiten sees Juno across the room.

For a moment, he feels like he’s seen a ghost. A ridiculous thought, from the dead twin.

Juno Steel is so far away from Hyperion City, talking to Zolotovna in a resplendent dress as if he’s lived the kind of life that makes him belong, immediately and implicitly, among the disgustingly rich. Ben, who is there for a reason, he knows he’s there for a reason but fuck if he can remember why, tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring. He’s failing at that, he knows.

But Juno is here. Juno is here in the room with him, so different than he remembers, with so many more scars. With one less eye. Ben wants to ask when that happened, wants to demand that story, just as much as he wants to fade into the crowd and run.

He feels untethered; he feels like, if he runs, he’ll never find his way back again. Just this once, Ben lets himself understand that the tug of gravity pulling him back was never a leash around his neck as much as it was a rope around his middle - giving him a way back home. Juno had always been his anchor, keeping him from drifting too far.

There’s no going back, now. There’s no going home, no home to go back to.

Juno’s glance turns in his direction, and Ben is about to duck out of the way - an amateur move, guaranteed to catch his sibling’s eye, but he thinks he can be forgiven for being a little bit off his game - when Ben realizes he’s not who Juno is looking for. A man slips by him, tall and confident and familiar in a way that tells Ben exactly why he should be familiar. Juno can’t seem to help the way his face changes when he spots the man.

So the thief grabbed at Juno’s heart and pulled him away from Hyperion. That’s why Juno is here. It’s... infuriating, because there’s no way a common con deserves Juno Steel. Because it was never a thought in Ben’s head that Juno could be convinced to leave Hyperion, and he never thought to ask. (I do not intend to run. Running was Ben’s job.)

Ben is ready to do something stupid. He’s halfway across the ballroom, walking directly towards his brother well and aware that the impact will cause an explosion of a scene, when he sees Juno tilt his head.

There’s a comms in his ear.

Ben has been a thief long enough to recognize the habits of another thief - especially a new one.

He doesn’t remember what he came to this event for, but there’s nothing, mark or prize or job, that Benzaiten wants more than to understand the stranger in the dress who almost has his face. If he breaks something with an impulsive decision, he thinks as he continues to cross the room, well - wouldn’t be the first time.

He’ll let himself be selfish. That’s what Ben does.

#the penumbra podcast #tpp #benzaiten steel #juno steel #junoverse #ben lives au #don’t ask my why i do not know #i was just curious about a Ben who becomes a thief #and it kinda spiraled from there #so i guess the hot takes are:#Ben’s family is a grounding force for him #and Ben also struggles with dealing with his mistakes #GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR VERY COMPLICATED EVENING JUNO

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timothylawrence · 2 years

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Helios Fallen headcanons

Most of these are pulled from my Atlas AU/ Borderlands 3 compliant writings, but I thought I'd compile them all onto tumblr for ease!

For starters, Vaughn is the mayor of Helios Fallen!! he hates being called as anything but Vaughn and he's pretty casual about his title.

Helios Fallen starts with a thousand or so survivors from Helios' destruction. Many die off in the coming months due to lack of adapting/disease/bandits/skags but eventually security is established.

The Crimson Raiders take interest pretty quickly, mostly to make sure there are no threats or chances of a new Hyperion stronghold ON Pandora. Lilith isn't happy about it and neither is Mordecai, but the people are helpless enough that they leave them alone for the most part.

Brick takes to Vaughn pretty quickly and they become friends, he likes to stop by and help them out alongside Krieg who saves Vaughn at one point from stray bandits. Krieg gets turned into the honorary 'bandit-neutralizer' when he's around and the people like him a lot.

Rhys doesn't hang around often. It's a point of trauma but when he does visit he gets the royal treatment (much to his dismay). Eventually his statue gets taken down by his request and something else is put up to memorialize the people who died.

A lot of Pandorans eventually start making their way to Helios Fallen because of how much 'safer' and cohesive it turns into after a while. There's not as much crime as elsewhere due to the sense of unity and help that spawned from the trauma they all pretty much witnessed.

Eventually, Pandorans/ex-Hyperion people come together and start families, boosting the population :)

Once Atlas takes off, the company sponsors security guards and other things to keep the city safe as well as fortified from bandits. Atlas also funds construction of safer housing, better means to growing food, and apprenticeships for skills.

A lot of there food is desert vegetables + newly introduced non-invasive genetically modified food Atlas has created.

Although a lot of Helios Fallen members prefer Pandora, a few dozen do take job opportunities at Atlas. (namely Yvette as the chief operating officer :))

The weather is that of a desert climate, cool winters (frigid nights) and hot summers. A lot of the heat is warded off by the high leaning construction that provides shade.

Helios Fallen celebrates a yearly holiday meant to commemorate it's establishment and mourn those who died.

#ewbie.txt #borderlands #vaughn the money man #idk thats all ima tag but :) just some stuff i take into account when i write :0

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all-pacas · 3 years

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please go off on ten paragraphs of iliad/odyssey stories?

first of all, if you have not already, go and buy emily wilson's translation of the odyssey. read it in the library first if that's easier, but then go and buy it. i feel very strongly that you should have a copy. i don't know who you are. it does not matter.

it's a relatively recent translation, and wilson's version stands apart because she shed it of the Poetic Old Timey Speak of other translations. she still keeps strictly to the pentameter, mind you. but instead of florid high-school-english-class language, she writes in modern, casual speech. it absolutely transforms the text from Something You Read In School to what it is: a story. a fucking good story.

also, her opening lines? the command in the tone? jesus christ ya'll.

to compare, here is the opening lines from an older translation (1900):

Tell me, Muse, of that man, so ready at need, who wandered far and wide, after he had sacked the sacred citadel of Troy, and many were the men whose towns he saw and whose mind he learnt, yea, and many the woes he suffered in his heart on the deep, striving to win his own life and the return of his company. Nay, but even so he saved not his company, though he desired it sore. For through the blindness of their own hearts they perished, fools, who devoured the oxen of Helios Hyperion: but the god took from them their day of returning. Of these things, goddess, daughter of Zeus, whencesoever thou hast heard thereof, declare thou even unto us.

did you skim it? i sure fucking did.

and here's one from 1999:

Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy. Many cities did he visit, and many were the nations with whose manners and customs he was acquainted; moreover he suffered much by sea while trying to save his own life and bring his men safely home; but do what he might he could not save his men, for they perished through their own sheer folly in eating the cattle of the Sun-god Hyperion; so the god prevented them from ever reaching home. Tell me, too, about all these things, oh daughter of Jove, from whatsoever source you may know them.

i hope you get my point. the thing is, the odyssey is a fucking adventure story. it has death and villains and traps and magic and monsters. it's an action movie, with plucky heroes and gods. but it's easy to forget that, because it's also thousands of years old and Important, and treated as Important Work before it is treated as a story.

anyway, here is how Wilson translates the same opening:

Tell me about a complicated man. Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy, and where he went, and who he met, the pain he suffered in the storms at sea, and how he worked to save his life and bring his men back home. He failed to keep them safe; poor fools, they ate the Sun God’s cattle, and the god kept them from home. Now goddess, child of Zeus, tell the old story for our modern times. Find the beginning.

like holy shit. the command! the iambic pentameter! find the beginning. i just! don't mistake modern language for weak or flimsy. it is incredible. go read it.

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ahloveisboo · 3 years

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Pacific Rim!AU

— in which a category four Kaiju surfaces near Busan and the Nova Hyperion finally gets to fight on home territory.

drift compatible!verkwan / 1.3k words / jaeger!verkwan, pacific rim!au / mentions of possible death, being in danger

"Boo, Choi, you're up."

A fist pounds against their heavy, already open door and Seungkwan nearly topples out of his bunk at the sudden, aggressive call of his last name. He should be used to it by now, but it still sounds so foreign to him.

"Where to, sir?" Vernon inquires, already lacing his boots with a calm that is miles away from what Seungkwan is feeling.

"Busan," the Marshal states, and Vernon can hear his roommate suck in a breath. His fingers still for a moment, taking in the information. He and Seungkwan have both been dreading and longing for this moment, both missing their home base with every passing minute. They're finally going home, albeit he wishes the circumstances were different.

Seungkwan and Vernon have been at the Nagasaki Shatterdome for years now. The Jaeger program had seen the light of day in 2014, when they were a mere 16 years old. As soon as they turned 18, they'd signed up for the Defense Corps. The idea of helping to save the world on such a large scale had thrilled them. They were young and full of fire. And it would definitely win them cool-points.

Neither of them had ever expected to actually pilot a Jaeger though, yet here they were.

Vernon attempts to suppress a grin as he dons his armour but stops trying when he sees it mirrored on Seungkwan's face. They lock eyes for a moment, silence settling between them as they bask in the pre-combat jitters that always leave the room feeling somewhat charged. Like all that was needed right now was a tiny spark to set their soul on fire in the best possible way.

Seungkwan adjusts the shirt under his chest piece and chews at his cheek. He could never decide on his favourite part of battle—the actual fight and inevitably defeating the Kaijus - enormous alien beasts with neon acid for blood, or drifting with Vernon to be able to do it.

It's pointless anyway, he guesses, as the two are firmly entwined.

The first time Vernon and Seungkwan drifted, he threw up. The experience of Vernon's entire being fusing with his had been too much for his body to withstand. Seungkwan shivers at the memory, checking his gear one final time before jogging to catch up with his partner and the Marshall already heading up to the Jaeger station.

The Jaegers have to be operated by two (or more) pilots as they neurally connect into the interface of the machine. It requires a strong mental and physical bond between pilots and Jaeger, and can only come to fruition if both pilots are on the exact same wavelength, moving and thinking as one.

Through the neural bridge (known as The Drift), Seungkwan has felt Vernon's deepest fears, his greatest desires, and seen his most precious memories. And inevitably, vice versa. He'd feel slightly embarrassed about it all if not for the fact that he'd known Vernon since they were 5 and nothing about what they'd shared on their first drift had been new information to him.

He was still getting used to it, though. Sharing mind and body with his best friend. Like scientifically engineered soulmates.

He wasn't going to lie—the Drift itself was exhausting, but at the same time exhilarating. He never felt more alive than when his soul connected with Vernon's, bodies in sync and heart on his sleeve. There was no place to hide in the Drift. It was both extremely vulnerable and incredibly empowering.

When they reach the station, their Nova Hyperion is already whirring with power. The metal monstrosity looms over them, standing at 250 feet tall, and the core is radiating a bright orange light that bounces off the bulletproof window in front of them. The sight never fails to send a rush of adrenaline through their veins, like an electric current shooting up their spine to kick them into gear. Seungkwan inhales, an incredulous chuckle escaping him at the thought of two tiny humans making the giant robot move with their minds. Every time he's about to board the Jaeger, the idea seems all the more ridiculous to him.

"What are we up against this time?" Vernon asks as he walks up to the control booth where Xu Minghao is fervently pressing button after button. His eyes are glued to the radar in front of him, a red blip appearing in and out of vision. "Category 4. There's only one but it's going to give you a run for your money," he notes, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a slender finger. "Wonwoo thinks there may be more on the way," he continues and nods in the direction of a man bent over a map, racking his hand through his already messy hair.

"I could be wrong," Wonwoo states as Seungkwan approaches the table, "but I rarely am, so we're dropping off three additional Jaegers to back you up."

"Three?" Seungkwan is almost insulted at the lack of faith their team seems to have in them. Wonwoo gives him a look.

"Don't get cocky. Cocky gets you killed."

Seungkwan repays the warning with a fake smile and a repeated nod. "Better safe than dead, I guess," he says, mimicking Wonwoo's cautionary tone. The elder doesn't smile back.

"The Swedes will back you up," he continues as if Seungkwan never spoke, "and so will the Silva sisters, and Trohman and Barker." Vernon crinkles his nose at the latter, wanting to comment but swallowing his words as he notices Wonwoo glaring at him across the table.

Minghao comes up behind his superior and kneads at his tensed shoulders. "Relax, they've got this," he states, half reassuring Wonwoo but mostly himself. Minghao is great at putting up a cool front, even with his heart hammering against his chest in an uneven rhythm - which he feels kind of stupid for because it's not like he's the one putting his life on the line - but he'd be lying if he said every moment Seungkwan and Vernon boarded that Jaeger didn't fill him with dread, not knowing if his colleague's (his friends) would make it out alive.

"Yeah, we got this!" Seungkwan beams, his fingers curling into a fist in front of his chest. "We've got home turf advantage, a little South Korean magic in the air to lift our spirits."

"You'll be fighting in water," Wonwoo feebly reminds him but straightens his back nonetheless, swiping the table to pull up the now holographic map being projected into thin air. "We'll drop you here," he points, 30 miles off the shore of Busan. "Not ideal since it's still too close to the city to my liking but I don't want to expose you to too much water pressure."

Seungkwan nods as Vernon approaches the table, pulling on his gloves. "Does it have a name?"

Minghao blinks, taking a moment before realising Vernon meant the Kaiju. He purses his lips, thinking fast. "Stentax," he decides, remembering that Vernon likes to put a name to his opponent. It ups the stakes for him, making it more personal. As if defending his home country wasn't incentive enough to obliterate it.

"Great. Are you ready?"

Seungkwan tears his eyes away from the map and realises Vernon's addressing him. "Uh, yeah," he says, glancing at Minghao who's positioned himself back behind the controller. A second red blip appears on the radar, moving unsteady but fast—just like Wonwoo predicted.

He can hear his blood rushing in his ears, faintly registering Minghao confirming The Breach has spewed a second Kaiju— a category 3 this time. Seungkwan locks his jaw, his features hard under the orange glow of his Jaeger's core.

"Ready as ever."

At this, Vernon smirks. "Let's go."

crossposted on AO3

#caratwritersclub #verkwan #verkwan au #pacific rim au #verkwan scenario #boo seungkwan #choi vernon #seventeen #seventeen seungkwan #seventeen vernon #seventeen scenario #seungkwan #vernon #my mbs

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

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Majestically Too Far Beyond : CSSNS 2020

It’s finally here! Yaaaay! Here’s my @cssns for 2020, Majestically Too Far Beyond, title based on the Poem written by Komal Kapoor. You can read my explanation of how this mess all got started Here. Art is by @kmomof4 and I threw in some too for fun.

Summary : Emma Swan has never been that type of girl, you know, the one that cries and sinks into a pint of ice cream after a break-up. She's never ever cared about anyone other than completely out of survival, but then came Neal, and then came the final big break up with someone maybe she sort of kind of loved. So now she is one of those girls who are homeless, living with her adopted brother and his wife at their farm in a long abandoned Victorian keeper's home, desperately trying to save to get her own place while working her difficult government job and as a merc witch on the side. When a desperate Witch calls on her to do a spell, it's all bad news - but then said Witch revealed a mountain of gold coins, and whimpered that Emma is her only hope. How can she not be a bad ass magic savior for this poor soul? All seems to be well, until the consequences are suddenly very real. Killian may be a Demon, a fallen Angel that now delights in the practice of revenge, but first and foremost he's a gentleman. Sort of. Especially when his ruddy Angel brother is focused on bureaucracy and keeping mankind out of chaos, while Killian barely keeps his denizens as safe as he can in a world that wants Demons dead. Witches and Warlocks use them for parts, Werewolves see them as a threat, Angels mostly still hold on to the ancient feud regardless of their treatise, Fae stay chaotic neutral, Vampires don't care for others affairs - it's a perilous world where hate crimes happen without consequence. When Killian goes above to plead for more safety laws in the metropolis of Hyperion Hills, the city that lies over a major portal to hell, he does not expect to meet a council that the elemental five sit on. He especially doesn't expect that the council would ever take him seriously in his campaign for demon safety. Regina, Snow, Ariel, Elsa, and Belle seem dead set on making it their pet project - each for their own very different reasons. Especially when they bring up hiring a tempestuous security consultant, Emma Swan. When they adjourn, he can say that he is optimistically apprehensive. An optimistic Demon never leads to good things, unless by good things you mean throwing back rum while chasing a pretty woman for plundering. He's unsure of what to expect when challenged to do shot for shot by a mysterious blonde Witch, who didn't care who (or what) he is, but he does like a challenge. Too much in fact, the challenge raising the stakes, because from there on it becomes a blur, and yeah, he's bloody well in it now. The idea of a contract sounds fantastic when they stumbled into the strange tower, half naked and wanting. It's the ritual she does instead that he should have been paying attention to. So, maybe now he's missing a hand, and has only the vaguest idea of what happened from the mess of blood he's woken up to, his and someone else's, a mirror's accursed magic the only thing to tell him what took place: he's a prisoner until someone lets him free… And a woman that he’s positive did not exist in his life yesterday, who just happens to not only be a Witch but a complete stranger, is pregnant with his child.

Rated E, but really falls in at more of a M. Fluffy angst with some adult themes and hinted undertones. READ ON AO3 HERE.

Chapter 1 - Long ago, eclipses were feared as well:

To say that the Jones 'Brothers' had been fighting since time began, was not an understatement, but also not exactly truthful. They had actually been fighting before recorded time, and before there was even a concept of the perception of anything besides the aether or eternity.

That's why he'd fallen, actually. Loss was a powerful motivation, enough even to question the utmost Authority - and the Authority despised questioning. Fighting was in the nature of the divine Celestials, as it seemed, and in Her infinite curiosity that She defined as 'Wisdom', God had let Lucifer burn too brightly. Their war was a lover's jealous quarrel turned violent.

Although Liam was created moments before Killian, they were brothers (as it were) even amongst a host of angels, and they were close regardless of their stubborn spats. They fought over the world and its workings, Liam given a flaming sword while Killian was given books. They fought over knowledge of the divine arts, arguing whether humans were worthy of the Arcane. They fought over Killian's love of a mortal woman, and his questioning of commandments.

They fought over Killian standing behind Lucifer, and Liam fought Killian right before he fell. In some ways, it was Liam's own hand that pushed Killian, but in his last angelic act, Killian forgave his brother.

While Earthborne and some remnant Angels believed Demons were not capable of love, they were of course wrong. Demons loved, lost, and forgave just as any others. Even after the schism, even after years of passive aggressive pettiness between both sides, Demons were still seen as wayward, dark, demented creatures. Angels had done little to fight this stereotype, instead reveling in their continued status as goodwill ambassadors.

Even their name amongst mortals was a cosmic joke, the Creator and her lover-made-antagonist too long gone to bother with proper names. They were Angels or Demons to some cultures as humans grew on God's abandoned project, while others called them by their new names.

The Angel Diana was called a Goddess alongside Hecate, Freya, Gabriel, Uriel, and many others. The Demons Zeus, Odin, Loki, Hades, and Poseidon happily took on roles that suited their carnal needs. Angels mixed with mortals along with Demons, God's secret seeds of elemental magics taking life along beside them as Druids, Fae, and Elementals. Some of the Celestials even birthed life as their lost parents had, Demons begetting Demons, Angels begetting Angels, and everything or anything in between.

Humans gained magical prowess as the world changed, Witches, Druids, Warlocks, Mortismals, and Mesmerels becoming the norm for human bloodlines.

Still, Demons were given less, all because God had cursed them irrevocably before disappearing with Lucifer into the abyss. They were cellularly different now than any of the Angels they had once been, a yoke around their neck that they could be forced to obey. Like Angels, they could be worshipped, called, trapped, or contracted even as their powers and bodies twisted into the curse stained strangeness God graced them with. They were looked on with disgust, pity, horror, and anger for it despite their best attempts.

Which was why his sodding Ponce of a brother working as an Angel ambassador for a Prince of Hell was so important - and so bloody frustrating.

It wasn't as if being a Prince of Hell wasn't stressful enough - his people always under siege or afraid of some Witch summoning them to place a brand, then using them as a charcuterie board - no. It was that his brother was a baked potato when it came to convincing the public they were not what millennia of ingrained hatred had established Demons as.

Bosch had died before Killian could uppercut him, regardless of his depiction of Liam as a trumpeting ferret bird or the even less flattering version of Killian. Dante had been another great PR stunt his brother had botched miserably. The Rings of Hell weren't even used, Lucifer gone before he could put God's plans for punishment into place. Now as a museum and reenactment park, it was a popular attraction that helped generate funds for the denizens that lived in the spacial plane that surrounded it, but Dante's review had been swayed by Liam taking him into The Kingdom right after. How could Hell ever live up to the paradise God herself had planned for humans? Only Cedar Point, Busch Gardens, Disney, or Universal Studios could come close as far as themed parks. It was a complete disaster.

This newest idea of Killian sitting on the board of Hyperion Heights to work with the world's premier intersectional coven, 'StoryBrooke', was another terrible idea in the making, and Killian had no qualms letting his brother know it.

"This is absolutely ridiculous Liam," Killian gritted out, itching under the glamor that made him look mortal. Being confined in a skin suit had his molecules vibrating so loudly he could hear his canines, starlight and cosmic fire sending pinpricks of goose flesh down the dark hairs of his arms and legs. Wearing this was torture enough without Liam staring at him in disdain, his own heavenly image unblemished. Even his halo was a polished gold around his fat head. "While I am a dashing rapscallion in my original skin, don't you think it's bad form for them to see me like this instead of how I actually look? Isn't the point of this to show that even if we're not as pretty as your lot, we're still beings that deserve respect?"

Liam grunted, rolling his eyes. Blue fire from explosions of stars and galaxies lit in mirrors of Killian's own, but framed by rosy cheeks and tawny curls instead of moving shadow, a ghoulish pallor, and dark hair the color of ink or raven's feather. The Angelic glamor contained the haze of darkness that moved like smoke around him, the length of his fingers and claws, and made his flesh look pale but not tinted the color of the universe's light. It did not hide his horns (remnants of shattered halo) or his twitching tail if someone chose to leave eyes on him too long, but that was another Demonic burden to bear.

"First impressions, little brother. Even the most progressive Witch is still a Witch. I'd rather them see you like this instead of wondering if you truly need all your giblets."

Killian swallowed hard, nodding once before grumbling, "Younger brother. Younger."

"Go over your notes again. You'll need to be your nauseatingly charming self for this, especially if they bring the males in their midst," Liam asked of him, and Killian looked out the dark windows of the car as his tail moved in agitation.

"Regina. Head of the Coven, Witch and Mortismal that inherited her throne from her mother. Began the integration method and broke away from the Misthaven Coven to create the StoryBrooke one," Killian intoned.

"Right. She's a tough nut too, and her ghosts do the most of her dirty work. She's not someone to cross unless you want your chairs stacked to the ceiling every morning by some bloody poltergeist."

"Aw, well, I'm unfortunately haunted by you already, I doubt a poltergeist could do more damage." Killian slanted a look at his brother, who gave an annoyed huff as his pure white feathers ruffled. Killian was thankful in part that he did not have wings at all times, even if the trade off was painful. "While Regina is the head of the Coven, the head of the Council is Elsa Frost of the Frost twins. She's a direct descendant of the Giant Ice Sorceresses with powerful magic, but her passion is creating legislation for Hyperion Heights. Her sister Anna is the family's public relations face, and runs their fashion empire, Arendelle Designs with her Druid husband."

"Good. Good, tell me about Ariel Poisson."

"Siren and Mermaid, with four years on the council. Made history as the first water Elemental to sit on the council, beating the long seated Witch, Ursula, by a large margin. Opponents argue that her father's position as King of the seas and his dominion over fair weather and fishing made voters nervous to not cast ballots for her. Her campaign slogan was 'Part of your World', which could be beneficial to my campaign."

"Right. Snow Blanchard?"

"Would-be heir to the Misthaven Coven who ended its elitist reign by breaking tradition and leaving, sending them into chaos." Killian smirked. "She sounds like someone who I could get along with."

"She gets along with everyone except her family, which is more than normal it would seem," Liam replied back, and Killian snorted out a chuckle.

"Druid, Elf, and Green Witch. Runs a high profile herbal apothecary chain Enchanted Forest Supplies, focused on holistic medicinals, herbs, and spices. Nolan Farms is a subsidiary that sells produce to the Heights, which is her husband's 'pet' project."

"Watch yourself, brother," Liam warned. "While you might get away with that if it's just the Witches, if David and Ruby sit in today you'll find that will not stand."

"Ah, yes. Ruby Reddings and David 'Charming' Nolan. You only circled that they are Werewolves in red ink everywhere you could. David is Snow's husband, and her lead farm hand. Ruby is Snow's cousin who introduced the two. Ruby is currently in a high profile relationship with your colleague, Inspector Wolfe, and they both are very active in pack politics. Many are betting they will create their own pack if the current Alphas do not abandon some of the more ancient doctrines. Nothing new there."

"Don't forget Livre and Fa."

"Belle Livre, Witch turned Vampire, runs a community literacy foundation and bookstore chain. Known ally to Demon rights. Soft spoken but brutally intelligent. Introduced a synthetic blood that allows for daytime living via plant cells collaborating with Enchanted Forest, which made history 6 years ago," Killian listed. "Mulan Fa, Vampire. Cultural Development head of the Heights, and curator of The Hyperion Heights Museum of Art, History, Science, and Culture. Teaches part time at Hyperion Heights University as an adjunct professor. Fa is married to a Fae Elf, Merida Ursa."

"Good. That's as far as we know besides the whole Swan fiasco, which is not to be brought up."

"What Swan fiasco?"

"Oh, little brother. If you had done your research outside of the profiles I gave you, you would know all about the criminal history of the black and heartless sheep within the Misthaven and StoryBrooke covens. It's better off that you don't know."

"Er. Well. Alright. I didn't look into them because I don't bloody well care about their lots as long as we get protection. There was another slaying this weekend. A Lower Demon."

"I'm aware. Did you know her?"

"Not really, but that's not enough either. I owe my people more. The other Lords of Hell are fine telling Demons to stay below and never use their name, which is fine for the new blood. It's the old, the weak, and the abused that are at risk."

"Careful, Killian. Your lust for vengeance will never be welcomed by mortals."

"I'm well aware Liam. They like my kind for an entirely different kind of lust."

"Could you please not." Liam sighed, sitting back against the seat. After a moment, his brother spoke quietly. "There was another attack as well, this time in broad daylight in Camelot Town. The Anti-Integration Movement has claimed responsibility."

"Of bloody course they have!" Killian hissed, clenching his fists. He pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing. "Brilliant. Just absolutely marvelous -"

"They were going to run a story in the Times. I managed to block it for now, but we need a sympathetic writer on the inside, or we risk them running another story with their bias."

"I have a guy. I'll reach out, he's an old school Warlock who I've worked with in the past on push back. What's their excuse this time?"

"They said that the Succubus was, quote, 'asking for it by the way she was dressed'."

Nausea rose in Killian's throat, and he swallowed it down with bitter practice. "I wasn't aware that how someone dressed meant their lives were not only void, but taking pieces of them was fine as well."

"We know they're being funded well, and we will get arrests as soon as possible. This won't be forever, Killian."

"That's easy for you to promise when this has been my - our forever." Killian bit out, glaring at his feet.

The car came to a stop, the driver opening the door to let them out. Killian moved briskly up the steps of the council building, as Liam followed behind. They moved through the lobby with an easy flash of Liam's ID that Killian scoffed at, moving into the elevator.

"After that display, I'm going drinking after this," Killian gritted through his teeth.

Liam blinked, straightening his tie in the door's polished reflection. "What display? They were nice."

"Exactly. If I came here alone, I would have been in that security line for an hour."

Liam rolled his eyes, taking down his halo to polish the golden ring. "You absolutely exaggerate how you're treated. Not everyone is out to get you, especially when you look like this. Give others a break."

"I'll give myself a break after this with as much rum as I can safely consume, instead."

The doors pinged open to reveal a small atrium, dark wood flooring in stark contrast to the birch tree covered walls. A secretary stood behind a rounded desk against the far wall, motioning for them to sit.

"They'll be with you in a moment," she offered, glancing at them with a thin smile. Killian could practically taste her distrust as he scratched behind his ear. Liam swatted at him lightly in a bid to get him to stop, both of them tense when the doors finally opened to reveal a petite woman dressed in a powder blue skirt and blazer.

"Come in gentleman. The council will see you now." She smiled icily. His brother stood, his feathers slightly puffed in an indication of his own nervousness.

Killian followed a second later, walking with them as they made forced, but pleasant conversation all the way into the boardroom.

Women sat at a long table that curved slightly, facing their own small table similar to a courtroom. He was reminded of the tribunals in the old days when law had begun, but the courtiers were far different than the strange group of women scrutinizing them.

To his surprise, the majority of them seemed actually curious instead of repulsed or bored.

"The council recognizes Liam Jones and Killian… Jones. These are your chosen surnames, correct? And you identify as… brothers?"

"Yes," Liam stated firmly with a curt nod. Killian watched from his peripheral as his shoulder muscles twitched, his wings held stiffly upright to keep them from the floor.

Killian nodded, careful to keep his tail curled around his legs. The skin suit itched as it clung to him, not abated by his attempt to sit more casually.

"Interesting," remarked the dark haired witch at the far right. A nameplate sat in front of her, marking her as Regina. He wondered idly if her stare was due to the blood on his hands only an eternal existence could bring.

"You are here to ask for help in creating safety measures and a potential council commitment to Demon rights, correct?" Ariel, a fiery haired lass with a heart face, asked.

"Our major point of concern is the influx of hate groups that seem to fall in line with smuggling operations and planned violence," Killian said slowly. Attention snapped to him, and he brought up the slide presentation he had prepared. "We have had some luck stopping shipments and arresting bit players, but we can't find the heads of these operations."

"You can't find them, or you are barred from digging deeper?" Mulan asked, and he chuckled darkly.

"The latter, I'm afraid. We have consistently come to the same dead end again and again. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you ladies how difficult a foe powerful covens behind corporate entities are." He let a grimace creep onto his face, and saw the majority of the women nod in acknowledgement.

"This could make many enemies for us, if approached in the wrong way." Belle stated quietly. "Specifically with our good friends in the Storybrooke Coven."

Snow nodded, exchanging a bitter look with her. "We may need a professional from our coven, but she's unable to get clearance without special notation."

"Oh? Who is this?" Liam asked.

Elsa and the rest of the coven smiled in varying degrees of fondness. "The best in the business, and in my Coven. If you need to find someone, Emma Swan can always find them, and she's good at criminal magical activities. She knows the system, knows how and where to hide, and where to seek."

They'd found what the coven wanted, and their stake in the venture. Killian caught Liam's face falling, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"You can't be serious. Involving Swan in this after -"

"That was all a misunderstanding, and was blown completely out of proportion. We have long held up our end of the blame and accountability, while Misthaven has shirked theirs in the name of slandering her." Elsa steepled her fingers. "If you desire the best, which I assume is why you are here, you need to rehab not only Demons’ image, but hers as well. She should be sitting here with us."

Liam tried in vain to tip the scale back in their favor, his face going red. "We'll consider this as part of our negotiations."

"Negotiations? Liam, you are a detective. You should have deduced by now that you have no leverage. You have only decisions to make." Regina closed her planner, regarding them with her dark gaze. "So, make them quickly, before our patience wanes."

Killian bit back a laugh at Liam’s sudden blustered stuttering. These witches were good, and as the meeting ran on for hours he realized just how much liquor he would need to recover.

"Well that went well."

Liam’s sour expression and slumped shoulders were just visible in his peripheral, even as his feathers were still quite literally ruffled. He huffed out a noise of disapproval, too vexed to even reply back.

"Aye to that, brother." Licking his lips, they stepped into the cool dusk air. "I'm going for that drink, are you…?" Killian glanced at Liam, who shook his head with annoyance.

"Seriously? You really -"

"Really shouldn't what Liam?" Killian smiled, venom leaking into his tone. "Go get drunk in a town that would rather pretend I don't exist or sell me in a fine powder to the nearest bidder? I think I'll be okay, although the concern is duly noted."

He turned on his heel, his glamor falling away in a puff of smoke. The air hit his itchy, overheated skin, his tail whipping around in sharp, agitated flicks.

"Take care of yourself, little brother! No need to be a self destructive bastard. We lost a battle, not the war!" Liam called after him, stepping into his sleek car. Killian snorted.

Hailing a cab with some difficulty, the driver asked where he was headed with the same slight resignation he was used to for his kind.

"A bar, Demon friendly please. Some place without swill."

The driver nodded, dropping him at a dimly lit corner of the city. A red neon sign spread crimson light along the sidewalk, soft light also spilling out the doors accompanied by loud guitar. Looking up, the looping, swirled lettering made him smirk. 'The Jealous Flask' was as good a place as any in his neck of the underworld woods.

The inside was smoky, deep red damask wallpaper paired with dark, pitch stained wood panels, booths, and bartop. The liquor selection was displayed neatly, unlike the few early patrons sitting scattered around. The jukebox played warbly rock music, some punchy chords and an easy to memorize refrain.

'one two three four, can I have a little more, five six seven eight nine ten, I love you'

The bar stools were empty, and Killian slung himself onto one, the bartender nodding his head by way of a greeting.

"Rum, neat," Killian stated, pointing to his preferred vice. The bartender did not stop polishing the glass in his hand, but the bottle floated down gently, pouring itself into a tumbler before the glass set itself down in front of Killian. "Thanks, mate."

The bartender nodded again, continuing his work with the aid of his magic. People began to trickle in as the time ticked forward, a witch or two eyeing him suspiciously, vampires playing pool in the front, a group of young werewolves forcing change into the jukebox to get edgier music playing through the speaker system. The Clash crooned out words against the Fae Queen ruling over greater Eld, the pack jumping around excitedly and thrashing their heads back and forth. By this time Killian had moved to the far curve of the bar, his glass refilled to the point of the bottle sitting next to him like a patient date. There were still no other Demons in his presence. It shouldn't have surprised him, shouldn't have even made him angry with the amount of violence they were privy to, but he burned away the emotions with the alcohol flowing down his throat.

A soft touch on his shoulder caught his attention, and he turned with a growl. It died in his throat when large eyes met his, blonde curls falling in front of her eyes in loose tendrils.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," she stammered, biting her lip. Pointing to a drink that was clearly not his, umbrella and all, she continued. "I was trying to reach my drink. It’s gotten crowded and I thought, I mean, I am sorry I wasn't trying to -"

"Aye." He nodded, throwing back his drink. "S'alright lass. I'm sorry, I s'pose I'm just a bit out of place here."

She smiled, blushing. "Yeah, I uh, I get that. I haven't seen you around before."

"First time here. I was in the neighborhood for business." He poured himself more, and to his surprise she pushed and elbowed her way to sit next to him.

"Business?" Her eyes were curious while her fingers toyed with the umbrella in her drink. "Should I be concerned?"

It was clearly teasing, and Killian felt himself loosening up around her. She seemed to read him well, or at least the alcohol was working. "Not any of the good kind, I'm afraid." He grinned with a wink.

"Ah, so we're just ships passing in the night?" She leaned in and he could smell the floral and herbal scent of her, her eyelashes batting coquettishly as she sipped her drink in his space.

"Passing closely, I hope," he murmured. His heart raced; it had been ages since any mortal had shown interest in him that was mutual.

His head spun as she met him drink for drink, hand unsubtly creeping higher up his hip.

"Would you be opposed to… Maybe, I don't know… getting out of here?"

"Are you saying you would fancy a nightcap, lass?" She smiled from under her lashes while biting her lip, and his heated blood grew hotter.

"Perhaps." She stood with grace as she extended a hand to him. "My place is a quick and easy teleportation spell away from here, and my bed doesn't require any sort of magic outside of what I can do with my tongue."

Killian hesitated, her golden hair in the glow of the lights making her seem to shimmer. "I don't even know your name -"

"Eloise. It's Eloise." She pulled him up, letting him stumble into her body. Her lips met his, and soon he was pulling her closer as their mouths slanted across one another's in hunger. She bit his lip and he felt the tightness that had bloomed in his belly spread fire down his spine.

"Lead the way, love," he whispered huskily, grinding into her.

She smiled broadly, the world shifting until he was in her dimly lit home. A lone window twinkled starlight, moon huge outside as it hung in the sky. Her tongue slid past his lips, the bitter herbal taste overwhelming while the world shifted again, this time pulling him apart.

In a perfect world, Emma Swan would not be doing anything remotely close to what she was currently debating doing. It truly wasn't her fault; it fell on Neal and his stupid family if anyone was to blame, and his stupid coven with their stupid leader. She should have known back then it had been a set up, should have known that Neal was a fucking liar. How many times did the same drawn out plot have to play out? Apparently, too many, considering she had still warmed his bed until a week ago.

This time it was final. Emma wouldn't accept him back when Neal slithered out from under the rock he had his affair in. She wouldn't be charmed by his smooth talking silver tongue, and if he so much as breathed near her, she would take another five years for breaking his smarmy Fae nose. Final. It had to be final.

But finality meant certain conditions had to be met, especially if she was to ward him away. For one, the beautiful loft that belonged to Neal in the Heights downtown could definitely not be her base of operations any more. Neither could the various in between places she found where Emma could grieve until he took her back, damaged goods and all. No more hotel rooms, no more abandoned apartments, no more warehouses, vacation rentals, or quiet empty offices. She had to get her own place, and it had to be able to handle her particularly finicky magic. Neal's place wasn't great for her particular practice, but the view had been killer enough to ignore it. Neal's fortune had meant she didn't need to work, and with her record (or, as his coven would sneer, 'notoriety') that was just as well.

Working added a wrinkle to her life; she would have to find somewhere that allowed her enough space for her magic to keep her employed. That would require a hefty chunk of gold - if she was lucky. The prices in the downtown area were steep, only high profile Witches, Warlocks, Fae, and Celestials could afford accommodation that close to the capitol buildings and Ley Lines. Initially when Emma had glanced through the apartment listings on the bulletin board, she had almost had a panic attack at the amount of gold they demanded.

Her brother David, blessings be, had been her knight in shining armor. There was a large Victorian home that lay in shambles at the edge of their farm lands, its beautiful scalloped details in need of paint, and the gutters growing weeds as thick as her forearm. But, it was within her budget if she could get the down payment placed before the scheduled demolition. She put what she had down to stall as much as she could, but it was not enough in the least.

One big job was all she needed. One big job that she could cash out on. A dip of her toes back into the waters of peddling illegal magic, just quickly in and out without a splash.

She didn't need any more jail time, that was for certain.

Putting out the word she was available in the whisper market was always dangerous, but listening in was free and without a snag if you were smart.

Emma heard tell of a desperate woman willing to give a truckload full of gold to the right Witch who could perform delicate, esoteric, deeply Arcane and forbidden magics. Luckily for both of them, that's what Emma excelled at.

She had always been good at her craft, and her magical workings were beyond powerful. She could do things that other practitioners only dared to dream of, if they could even conceive it. It was why Neal had kept her around, and why his coven's dislike would melt away if she said she would consider joining.

(If she did that around Yulesmas for better gifts, was it really so bad?)

The request itself was intriguing, the woman herself a Witch that could not do the spell alone. She wanted an equivalent exchange of unbreakable magical bonds, which while tricky, was not forbidden in most circumstances. The offer was too good to pass up on, but Emma didn't like leaving things to complete chance.

Cue her sister-in-law, Snow. If anyone could throw runes, read the winds, divine from the mundane, and not keep any of it a fucking secret, it was Snow.

Emma knocked on their cheery red door in the early morning, which must have been a surprise to Snow considering she was half dressed in business wear. She pulled up her stockings in a one footed hop, motioning for Emma to come in as she balanced the phone receiver against her neck. The coiled cord spun around her, and she groaned loudly.

"Yes, Regina, I know. I'll be there, I'm literally - it's 2 hours away. I will be there in thirty minutes at latest, but - Well, yes, Emma just walked in." Snow gestured at a chair, and Emma sat, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. "Yes, I know it's early for her. I know. Uh huh. Yes. We will definitely put her on the table; it's absurd not to, considering - yes, I would love to talk to you about this in person as I've said - alright. Yes. Okay then, buh-bye."

Sighing, Snow twirled, untwisting herself from the phone cord. She smoothed down her pencil skirt and blouse before looking straight at Emma with a curious stare. Her mouth twitched with annoyance as she spoke.

"Now. To what do I owe the pleasure? I have a meeting with Celestials shortly, so." She waved a hand indicating the clock in the background. Turning to the counter, she opened up a cookie jar and removed a rolled cannabis cigarette, putting it between her lips and lighting it.

Emma swallowed, watching the petite woman slide the purple lighter back in its space on their counter. "I just need you to divine something for me. A situation, with a woman who wants me to… to uh, do something."

Snow rolled her eyes, narrowing them to glare at Emma. "We are bringing you up as collateral in our meeting today, trying to get you a seat where you belong - on the council," Snow hissed. She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a breath.

"Please?" Emma asked innocently, batting her eyelashes for good measure.

Snow sighed. "Alright. Picture the situation and the woman."

Emma focused on the description, the spellwork requested, the woman's pleas. She could feel Snow's magic engulf her, and the fuzziness that came with it as she wove threads out into the natural universe, time and space sending her back answers.

A moment passed, and the feeling abruptly stopped as Snow shook her head.

"This doesn't feel right," Snow said, taking a drag of her blunt. She exhaled, the thick smoke swirling into the shape of birds that dove through the air. Emma coughed, waving a hand in front of her face. "That woman… I don't know. She feels off."

Emma frowned, petulant that the answer was negative. "She's a Witch, and in trouble."

"Have you rolled your runes?" Snow began to pull on her loafers, gathering her things.

Emma chewed her lip. She had divined, or tried to, but had not found a concrete result. "Yeah, and they said it's… Questionable, but the end result leaves all parties happy. Tarot said basically the same thing."

Snow let out a little twittering laugh, pulling her purse up on her shoulder. "And how does Neal feel about it?"

"Neal doesn't need to feel any way about it. I… We… I broke it off." Emma looked at her shoes, then idly inspected the counters formica. "Forever this time."

"Oh. Is that why you're here so early?" Snow's eyes went wide, a hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Emma, honey. I'm so sorry, I've just been under so much stress with Regina and this council. Wait, where are you staying? Oh no - are you homeless!? You mean it, you're never going back to that creep?"

"Never," Emma said firmly, even as her voice caught. "I'll find a place though, Snow. Don't worry."

"So you are homeless, oh Emma, if I wasn't late - no. No. You know, I'll call Regina and cancel it, you need me more than -"

"No, well, I mean -" Emma shook her head. "No. I'll stay here tonight if I have to, but you need to get to your meeting. I don't need Regina's wrath on top of everything else."

"You know you can stay here with us as long as you need, oh, Emma, I wish you had told me -"

"I don't want to stay here. I can't work here, and I love you guys but you both are gross with your lovey dovey hippie -"

"I get it, I get it." Snow grimaced.

"So yeah, I need the money. I can't stay here, I need my own place… I put a tiny deposit on that Victorian down the road, but I need the full down payment to keep it." Emma shrugged.

"The house at the --- Emma, that place is a breeze away from being condemned!"

"No it's not," Emma groaned, rubbing her temple. "It's got good bones, and character. It just needs some… help."

"Well. I mean…" Snow hesitated, heading towards the door, as Emma followed. "Alright then. I'm just warning you, I get a terrible vibe from that woman and I could cancel this today, we could work out a plan. We have the money from the harvest. You could work for us or with David and help us with the roll outs in exchange for a loan. I'm organized, but the help would be appreciated if you're living so close… especially since I'm making sure that house is safely remodeled for you. I don't want you to end up with the roof falling on you or some gas line exploding."

"You worry way too much, Snow."

"I hear the future through nature, and it's generally terrifying. Nature is terrifying. Excuse me for being cautious, and wanting to help you out."

Emma laughed as they walked out the door together, Snow rummaging in her bag for lipstick which she quickly applied. "Yeah well, you're also smoking weed so potent it could put an elephant to sleep. I don't want a loan from you."

"I'm not an elephant, Em. I'm an Elf. It'll take more than this to knock me on my ass." She smiled, extending a hand to squeeze Emma's shoulder. "Be careful, okay? No repeats."

"That wasn't -" Emma protested, but Snow cut her off with a sharp look. "Yeah, alright.

"Good. I'll see you tonight, you're coming for dinner. No buts." Snow grinned, before disappearing with a puff of periwinkle smoke.

Emma groaned, kicking dirt as she stalked away towards her new potential home.

In the final days before moving from the small basement apartment Emma rented, the dingy, unused, bare studio finally found some decoration in chalk outlines, herbs, and a large bubbling cauldron. It hadn't ever been a home or remotely close to one when Neal presented a better option, the bed untouched and unmade. It reminded Emma more of her prison cell than anything else, which offered a strange duality of comfort mixed with dread. It was fitting that she would meet to do this ritual here.

Gothel arrived promptly for their 10 am arranged meeting in a well worn taupe cloak. She looked as desperate as the correspondences between them indicated, but Emma resolved to get this over with as quickly as possible. They shared a nod in the form of hellos, then Emma pointed to the cauldron.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Emma asked, and Gothel drew back her cloak to reveal her tired and gaunt looking face.

"Yes. Let's. Your payment, with more upon completion." Gothel dropped a large purse on the counter, Emma immediately grabbing it and checking the contents. It was real, her heart soaring as she shoved it in her bag.

"So, you are to give me a token of your will, usually blood, an animal you raised, or something that's valuable to you . Something you care about, that you are tied to that a severing will make you -"

"I give you the life of my first child," Gothel interrupted.

Emma's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh." Biting her lip, she brushed back her braid. "That's… That's super Illegal. I…"

"You wanted something heavy, you got it. There's a reason why I came to you; you have a reputation for doing things quietly. The reason you chose me is because you need the coin. Now, my terms. I know you provide healing. I want to keep myself young and strong - youthful immortality. Grant me this." The grin on her face unsettled Emma, Snow's warning in her mind. Nevertheless, the satchel of gold meant a secured home.

"Um. Alright. Are you sure, the life of your firstborn? That's a ways off, and the strength won't happen until -"

"Do it. Do it now, I know the spell will be enacted when payment is due. I'm well studied - Breaking a bond with a child, specifically your first, will grant me the power I need. I know that I can't do this spell myself either, so here I am."

Emma gulped. "Okay. Let me get the texts."

Emma returned with her copper cauldron, pile of books, and spell components. Gothel's grin grew wider, her eyes gleaming at the sight of the tongues, eyes, crushed butterflies, and other more macabre ingredients the spell required.

Feeling a low tug in her gut that something was wrong, Emma backed away from the altar. The other Witch seemed to shimmer, slightly in alarm, a glamor of some sort possibly covering her skin. Feeling even more unsettled, Emma shook her head.

"I can't do this, listen -"

"Please. Please you must, I need this to escape a curse. It's blood magic, almost unbreakable and impossible to escape on my own. Please." Emma heard no lies in her speech. "I admit that I have not been entirely truthful. While I was able to send you the gold easily, I am trapped, held against my will. I can only project myself to you. I was afraid to tell you, because I am desperate to rid myself of this curse." When no lies continued to register, Emma felt a deep sense of pity for the other witch. A blood magic binding was no joke; someone truly must have hated the poor woman.

"Fine," Emma said, throwing her hands up. Gothel perked up slightly, hope in her eyes. Throwing the ingredients in the cauldron, a shimmering mist roiled over the edge as she spoke ancient words and stirred in the shape of long unused runes. Adding bones that melted in soapy bubbles and stirring with a long Pegasus feather that gradually turned to ash, she looked up at Gothel, who was wringing her hands anxiously.

"Your tokens?" Emma asked.

Gothel waved a hand over the stained cloth; several of the woman's teeth, a long braid of her hair, and a large chunk of skin fell into the cauldron. The cauldron's contents began to boil, smoke curling in darkened serpentine tangles.

Emma began the words, Latin, Arameric, the old tongue of the Pagans, Celtic, remnants of Gaul, flowing them together until speaking plainly to her own magic.

"Blood of one that is two, child, mother,

Blood of my own, tear them asunder,

Thicker than wine, thicker than water,

Ties that bind, bound to another,

The womb that grows life,

Kin cared for in kind,

A payment for power,

Remake the ties, lift, and unbind."

Scraping her hand against a dagger, Emma let her blood drop slowly into the brew, the words flowing out in the crimson rivulets. As she pulled away the wound closed from her own healing energy.

"Cradle of moon within flesh,

Remake that which is to be made,

Your reflection removed,

Mine in its stead.

Your burden is mine,

Carried and held as your first,

Blood of the two, child, mother,

As they are born, you are cursed."

She looked at Gothel, who was still wringing her hands, long nails cutting into her palms. This magic was hopefully worth the price the woman had so freely paid. Breaking an infant and mother's bond to give to another was a great sacrifice, the magic comparable to true love, if not greater. The power the Witch would receive would hopefully free her from the curse, but also give her the strength she desired.

"It's done. You must cast your brand over the cauldron, and when you, you know," Emma turned around, holding herself tightly. Caught up in the thought of what she, Emma Swan, would even do with a child, she was unaware of the other Witch behind her scrambling to the cauldron or her deep disregard for anything she was saying. "Get pregnant, let me know. I'll handle that - Wait, what are you -"

Gothel chuckled lowly, her brand in its arcane circle around the cauldron, neon lines of electricity like power that sparked and crackled. Emma felt her hair stand on end, small pebbles lifting off the stone floor as the cauldron shook. Smoke rose in heavy plumes, purple and a noxious mauve that made the air feel sticky, her lungs not able to fill all the way. Gothel's chuckle had turned into a wild cackle, her braided and matted hair like vines or a visage of Medusa.

Gothel's voice was crazed, shrill as she pointed a gnarled finger at Emma. "This is it. This is it! I've done it, I'm free! Oh, you silly, stupid girl. Now nothing will ever stop me again!"

Her laugh grew into a shriek of triumph as magic swirled around them, Emma watching as the woman in front of her disappeared. Gaping at what happened, Emma checked herself for any signs of curses or hexes, unsure of what had just taken place.

To her surprise, no sign of magic lay on her that she could see. She wasn't cursed, the room wasn't jinxed, and the second payment… Emma quickly checked her purse, finding the large satchel of gold easily. The second sat where Gothel had discarded it without looking twice, and she picked it up hesitantly. It was heavy in her hands as she checked it again and again, realizing that for once in her life, everything was going right.

Three hours later, she owned the Victorian home down the road from her brother's farm, the first home she had ever truly called hers.

Living near her brother's home had its perks, and disadvantages, as Snow had hinted. For one, Snow was cooking for her every day, and Emma was positive she was going to gain several dress sizes if she didn't stop gorging on various pasta dishes while pouring her magic into restoring the wooden floor.

A major downside was having her brother constantly fixing her house without her being aware. She'd been woken by him cleaning the gutters, fixing her porch, and of all things, roofing. It had only been a few days, but between his insistence on the outside being presentable and her own work inside, the house was coming along faster than she ever dreamed. It was frightening, and David kept her on edge with his very obvious attempts at snooping around.

"So, you're done with Neal for good," he said, startling her as she sat out on a newly hung porch swing. She wrinkled her nose at him in protest, and he grinned. "And… You're making doors again."

She froze, panic gripping her.

"It's alright, I'm not mad. I'm just - just be careful. I trust you, but I know that before -"

"I made a mistake. I know it, you know it, the Coven knows it, and so does everyone else in the Heights that saw me fall from grace." Emma curled her arms around her knees, bitterly forcing out words. "I won't make the same mistake again. I am on the straight and narrow; these doors are for commuting and hunting skips only."

David laughed, poking her in the side. "Back to hunting skips, huh? Damn. Don't you ever settle down and enjoy the simple life?"

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "What the hell is the simple life? Nothing is simple."

"Well, yeah, but… I mean the simple life." He brushed a hand through his hair, looking at her with a gentleness that she instantly felt uneasy with. "House, a pet maybe, hobbies, a partner, kids -"

"If you are trying to set me up again -"

"Not me," David raised his hands defensively. "No, I was just -"

"I don't deserve that life," Emma stated, shrugging. The sun was sinking lower, crickets singing in the cool air. "That life isn't for me. That life is for people like you and Snow, people that are worth something."

"Oh, Emma. You know that's not -"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Emma snapped, standing with a start. David looked at her with a hurt expression, and she felt pure rage. "Goodnight."

She stepped back into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind her.

"Emma, come on," David called from the porch, but Emma wasn't listening to him as she fought the immediate urge to be ill. The sudden nausea ripped through her, and despite her attempts, vomit burst from her throat.

She panted, holding on to the wall with one hand. The other hand gripped her side, fierce cramping making her double over in a scream of agony. She lurched forward, unable to breathe as pressure rose in her stomach. To her terror, her skin grew taut and she seemed to bloat, the pain of it ripping through her.

David splintered the door, his arms around her as she lost consciousness.

She woke in an ambulance, David holding her hand like he'd done when they were children. He was always the best big brother she could have asked for, always protective of her, and always pushing her to be better. He had convinced her to trust Ruth, convinced her to take a chance with the older woman who was willing to adopt both of them, and they had found another home together. When she was scared or sick, he was right there to hold her hand. Even now as pain ripped through her, he was there. She tried to understand, but her body burned until the flame became too much to bear.

She woke again to the beeping of machines and David's yelling, her body aching but no longer in the same searing pain. Lifting herself up to try and hear what David was saying, she struggled to make out more than just fragments.

"I'm not leaving, that's my sister ---- How did -- she wasn't, she --- I don't know, she never said anything ----- A WHAT? No! I'm --- not leaving!"

Emma's stomach lurched, and she shifted to get out of bed. The sheets slid from her middle, and she gasped. Her middle was rounded, as if she was pregnant. But that was impossible, that was absolutely and completely impossible.

A knock sounded, a petite woman entering.

"I'm Doctor Mullins, Emma. I know that this may take some time to fully process, but… you're pregnant."

Emma hissed out a breath into a hysterical laugh. "What? No. No. This is not how babies work, or pregnancy, or even - I haven't even had sex since - "

"I know, and I understand that you must be frightened." The doctor attempted to console her, but Emma could not stop her rising panic. She touched the rounded skin of her stomach, the firm smoothness lined with stretch marks. Letting out a low wail, the doctor tried to speak over her still. "It's some ancient and dark magic, but it's very real. We have an inspector on the way to take your statement, and we performed a few tests -"

"No. No, this is a bad dream, this isn't real, this isn't happening to me!" Emma closed her eyes, trying to focus.

" - most concerning of which is the results on paternity, which indicate that the father has non-human presenting DNA. Normally that's not terribly unusual, but this is clearly not a planned pregnancy considering your… your conception being, well, this, and the genomic markers show that the parentage is half Celestial. I need to ask, have you had any relationships with an Angel?"

Emma shook her head, trying to understand what the doctor was asking.

"Alright, what about anyone with proximity to dark, Arcane, or Demonic magics? Anyone who associates with Demons? Do you associate with them?" The doctor eyed her curiously, and Emma shook her head again.

"I don't know any Demons, Angels, or Celestials." Emma bit her lip, frustrated at the question. Rolling it between her teeth, she murmured a thought out loud. "I did recently perform a ritual that was older. It didn't call for this though, I don't know anything about this…"

"Well, it doesn't just happen." Emma looked at the doctor with enough venom in her stare to curdle milk. The doctor laughed nervously. "I mean, it did but -"

"This cannot be happening," Emma moaned, throwing her head back against the hospital bed's pillow. "This has to be a bad dream."

"I'm afraid it is all very real. Considering the circumstances, an inspector of magical law will be assigned to question you regarding the situation. Because of the issues of legality, you may not leave or have visitors until then." The doctor stood, brushing her hands on her slacks. "Baby looks healthy despite wanting to grow at an accelerated rate, and we have slowed that as much as we can. Welcome to motherhood Miss Swan, and, er… Congratulations." Giving a last placid smile, she left the room, leaving Emma alone.

Emma sat stunned, unable to do anything but focus on her steady breathing.

(Fuck)

The single word came to mind again and again, escaping from her lips as her breath finally began to turn into sobs.

"Fuck."

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askthepandoranhero · 3 years

Note

✿ - DECAY - an old memory, from childhood perhaps

⚔ - DUEL - a meeting or relationship that was important to them

☼ - DAYSTAR - a secret they don’t want coming to light

■ - LAIR - where they live, work, or spend most of their time

✿ - DECAY - an old memory, from childhood perhaps

It was done. It was over. Kelley was still catching their breath.

Kelley dropped their bloody scissors to the ground, and crawled off of the man that they once called “dad”. The jingle of their broken chain echoes in the now empty halls.

They were free. And yet. They didn’t feel happy. Their eyes glass over, a single sob shakes their body as they cry out. He wasn’t perfect. He was dangerous and controlling. But he was still something to them. He was still the only other human they had ever known.

⚔ - DUEL - a meeting or relationship that was important to them

Kelley was standing next to one of their teammates for this mission, but they can’t help but notice just how much his legs seemed to be shaking.

They lean over him, and smile when he turns his head, “I never got your name, but I’m Kelley Pandora.”

He quirks an eyebrow at their name, but he takes their hand when Kelley offers it for a shake, “Uh, I’m Ti--Jack. My name is Jack.”

Kelley’s smile is still genuine, though it doesn’t hide their pity. They clap a hand to his shoulder, “Well, Not-Jack, uh, I noticed that your hands are kinda shaky when you’re aimin’. Want me to show ya how to do it right?”

Not-Jack gives a nervous glance to the rest of the Vault Hunters before nodding, “Yeah, uh, if this is gonna be as bad as I think it’s going to be, I think I’m going to need that.”

☼ - DAYSTAR - a secret they don’t want coming to light

Kelley really doesn’t like the idea of people outside of their Found Family knowing how deeply they mourned Handsome Jack’s death, despite it being at least a little obvious considering how long they were out of commission after his death (granted a lot of people also believe that Kelley was resting so long because of the major wounds they suffered over bl2, which isn’t inaccurate).

■ - LAIR - where they live, work, or spend most of their time

Kelley actually has several homes on Pandora so they can stay in a few of their towns if they need to. They’re not all great homes, and they’re often connected to their workshops. They also live in their RV sometimes when they’re on the road.

The home that is the biggest and is an ACTUAL home, and that they spend most of their time in is in CaveGlo, a hidden underground city that was originally meant to be a safe place for the Found Family to go in case there was trouble, but when Jack was wreaking havoc, the small safe house proved to be too small and thus a town was built out of necessity for the people who were fleeing from Hyperion.

Kelley’s home in caveGlo is big and is actually a home. It still has a workshop but it has an actual room that Kelley has decorated with their mug collection and giant photo wall.

#asks #anon #about muse

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nectaric · 3 years

Text

@ichoric: and then ares DIED

Ares had fought thousands of battles in his lifetime. Some he had won, others he lost. He had spent days in the mud, bleeding and suffering. He had succumbed to horrible pain, confined within heavy bronze jars, and left for dead. Some battles had even been fought outside the walls of Olympus, with giants who threatened to tear the city walls down and kill all those he loved.

But nothing had ever been quite so dire as this.

The gods were horribly outnumbered, outgunned, and on the verge of collapse. Ares did what any good soldier would do, fighting to the last man, giving it everything he had. He ushered gods out of the city, protecting them with his own body, bruised and bloody as he fought titans and monsters alike in the streets. Aphrodite remained close at his side, where his children were, he did not know -- but there was no time to think. All he could do was act, attempting to get his beloved to safety, to protect the fearful and dying. To fight back this monstrous horde as long as he could.

The numbers were too great, and Ares knew it from the start. He had faced hard odds, but this was something else entirely. His heart hammered in his chest, fighting tooth and nail, doing what it took to keep Aphrodite safe.

It was doomed to fail.

As he rounded a bend in the streets, Aphrodite at his side, several gods and demigods behind him, Ares came to a halt. Standing in the rubble was Hyperion, there was no mistaking him. Shining armour and a brilliant grin told him everything he needed to know, and his hulking form blocked the only exit. Ares swallowed back a wave of fear and grit his teeth, shoving Aphrodite behind him.

“The soldier.” Hyperion cooed, hand resting on a massive sword at his hip. “I was hoping you and I would meet.”

“Get these people out of here.” Ares hissed between his teeth, not daring to look at his wife. “Go, now.”

“It won’t matter in the end. We’ll stamp the life out of each of you. One by one if necessary.” Hyperion said matter of factly, like the thought bored him. “You’ll be the first, A--”

Ares lunged before Hyperion could finish his sentence. The war god moved fast with a small burst of adrenaline, whirling around the titan with his spear, bashing at his armour and jabbing for weak points within it. Despite the size of his sword, Hyperion moved with impeccable speed, and the smirk on his mouth disappeared, replaced by an angry frown.

Ares could not keep it up forever. He was slow from his wounds, body aching. He knew he shouldn’t have let Aphrodite distract him, but she was still there. Why wasn’t she leaving? Ares tried not to focus, but then a blur of dark hair told him she had joined him.

Ares dodged out of the way of a mighty swing of Hyperion’s sword, jabbing his spear into the titan’s armpit. He howled and backed up, and Ares took this opportunity to lunge for Aphrodite. He hooked an arm around her waist, eyes desperate. “No, you need to go. You can’t stay here, please--”

A sudden spark of pain shot up Ares’ side, blood beginning to pour. Hyperion’s sword protruded from his ribcage, and Ares’ expression went slack. His grip on Aphrodite loosened, and he stumbled backwards, cursing his own stupidity. Never turn your back on the enemy.

Ares felt hands tug at the back of his armour, dragging him away from his one love, the distance excruciating. Hyperion used him as a shield, and though Ares’ struggled, his movements began to slow even more, strength sapped from his limbs.

“Good. I hoped you would watch him die.” Hyperion cackled, blade pressed against Ares’ throat. The war god squirmed, but could not summon the strength. Distantly, he heard Aphrodite scream -- and then Hyperion’s blade slashed across his throat.

Ares spluttered for several moments, hands grabbing at his throat. Ichor choked him, his vision going dark. He stumbled towards Aphrodite, Hyperion releasing his grip. The god never made it, stumbling over the rubble. He collapsed to the stone, and succumbed to darkness, Aphrodite’s screams in his ears.

#ichoric #gods fall au.#m: ares.#blood /

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buffyversefanfiction · 3 years

Text

Slayer of Slayers

Warnings: I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but is not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation. 15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft. M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

Part One: City of No Angel

After being away from Los Angeles for several years the brooding vampire Angel had been convinced to return to his former city under the advice of vampire slayer Faith Lehane who herself had been sent back to L.A. due to the witch Willow Rosenberg’s concern about a growing number of vampire slayers going missing within the troubled city that once had the evil law firm, Wolfram and Hart, pulling its strings. Angel, Faith, and old one Illyria arranged to meet at Angel’s old, haunted grounds The Hyperion Hotel which had once again become abandoned like it was when he first set up home in there with his friends who became like family, most of which were long gone now. After the unlikely trio consisting of a vampire with a soul, a former goddess in a human’s body, and a redeemed former rogue slayer, met up they soon discussed the facts of the mission which had brought them all together. “So, Willow’s big plan is for me to play the role I play best, the rogue slayer, thinking that whoever’s killing slayers is probably going to like the idea of teaming up with a slayer who kills humans or used to, obviously hoping they do not know any stories of all the things I’ve done while seeking some kind of redemption.” Faith informed Angel and Illyria. “I did the covert rogue slayer thing a while back for Giles and shit got pretty messy hence why I was not doing this one solo.” “If slayers are killing out other slayers, then maybe we should not interfere I mean after all there was only ever supposed to be one at a time whereas now you throw a rock and you have yourself some superpowered woman thinking themselves as something like a god insulting actual gods like myself,” Illyria complained while making it clear she was far from happy about the rise in the quantity over slayers over recent years. Both Angel and Faith did not bother to reply to Illyria’s choice of words having both got used to the way she speaks by now and how she viewed the world and despite her literal tough outer shell, the old one was always on their side without question having somehow become her friends. The three of them were determined to get to the bottom of the mysterious case of the slayer of slayers not realizing that this mission would change everything forever…

Elsewhere, in the city of Los Angeles, the slayer of slayers was eying their next target a Knight-haired vampire slayer looking something like Faith herself, as the girl believed she had the upper hand as she ran down a dark alleyway with a male vampire running after her, believing she was luring this monster into a trap not realizing that this vampire was luring her into one as part of his master’s own devious plan, to eradicate all slayers. “Unluckily for you, you seem to have no idea that I am not your average girl!” The young vampire slayer bravely stated as the male vampire closed in towards her with his full vampire face on display. The slayer wasted no time in charging towards her undead opponent as she pulled a wooden stake out of her black leather jacket during mid-run as she launched herself into the air, throwing her body into the night sky before launching her right clenched fist down towards the vampire, punching him with force across the face as her feet fell back onto the cold hard ground. The slayer continued to fight with the vampire each of them getting several good hits on the other before the young slayer eventually got the better of the vampire, kicking his body so hard the vampire fell to the ground as the slayer launched the wooden stake into the vampire’s chest causing the vampire to explode into nothing more than a big pile of dust. “They just keep bringing slayers to my city it’s like the big man no longer cares about his chosen daughters.” An unbelievably handsome man with short jet black said to the slayer as he too appeared from out of the shadows wearing a black fishnet t-shirt flaunting his chiseled abs with skin-tight black leather jeans that clung perfectly to his impressive body making this stranger look as sinister as he did sexily. The young slayer knew instantly whoever this stranger was, he was most definitely an enemy working alongside the forces of evil and so the Knight haired woman ran towards her next opponent not realizing that this opponent would be her last as it did not take long for the handsome stranger to quickly get the better of the slayer, punching her several times across the face before kicking her in the stomach with such force the slayer fell into some nearby bins amusing the man before her as she quickly began rustling through the rubbish as she pulled herself back up onto her feet defiantly. “You do not scare me, vampire!” She lied before charging towards this mysterious man once again, as she refused to allow her growing fear to get the better of her. “Not a vampire.” The man replied as he punched her once again before grabbing the slayer by her throat and lifting her up into the air into a chokehold. “You may know me as the slayer of slayers.” Before the slayer could muster any words while under the surprisingly strong stranger’s stronghold on her neck, he threw her across the street, her head hitting off a nearby wall before her body crashed onto the ground knocking the slayer unconscious in the process. “I swear you get sexier with every slayer you slaughter!” A short dirty blonde haired male vampire said as he appeared from out of the shadows eagerly making it clear to the two men knew each other very well. “Who would think little Theo will grow up to be the ruthless slayer of slayers?” “If only mummy dearest could see me now,” Theo replied as he walked over to the vampire with a seductive smirk on his face. “Killing slayers and sleeping with vampires.” The vampire, otherwise known as Tobias, pulled the slayer of slayers, otherwise known as Theo, in towards him until the two men’s bodies were grinding against each other’s as they began kissing passionately getting off on the carnage that Theo had just created.

After a rather successful night of Tobias hunting humans and Theo capturing a vampire slayer, the dangerous duo had retreated to a demonic dive bar that they owned together and often used as their headquarters for all their hellish operations, while their demonic and monstrous clients continued to drink and often join in when they were asked of by Theo and Tobias, fearing the two too much to even consider saying no to them. “I heard you’ve got yourself another slayer, is she on the menu tonight?” Asked one of the vampires that stood at the counter breaking up Theo’s kiss with his vampire lover as the two put their focus back on their customers. “This one’s going through a little processing right now before she gets served to our public no point drinking her blood while it's still poisoned now is there?” Theo replied with a sense of casualism that could only occur from doing what he did far too often. “Pretty messed up the things you do to your own kind Theo.” A demon with snake-like skin-colored red and a lizard-like tongue said to his bartender, laughing away in respect for the monster within the man in front of him. “I’m no vampire slayer, I am a slayer of slayers it's my destiny to eradicate them all and plunge this pathetic excuse of a world into pure and utter darkness it is just a bonus I get so much pleasure in killing each and every one of them,” Theo replied to the demon. “Besides slayer’s blood sells very well and who does not love money?” “My beloved Theo is unlike any before him, he not only lives in the darkness he thrives in it, and with him, on our side, the slayers will soon be nothing more than unfond memories.” Tobias chimed in while showing genuine affection for his lover. “My only fear of course is the one slayer who always defies the odds that perky blonde one who changed everything for her kind.” “Buffy Summers is more myth than truth Tobias, I have told you that before,” Theo said to the vampire, trying to reassure him that Buffy was nowhere near as much of a threat as she was in stories they had been told. “I would not underestimate the girl who killed Angelus and The Master not to mention that goddess who almost ended the world one time.” Another vampire at the counter said, adding to the conversation within the bar. “I have the upper hand when it comes to Buffy whether she is as fearful as they say she is still a woman, a woman who had seen love and loss in her time and will no doubt be thrown back to meet her only son.” Theo declared, revealing his identity as Buffy’s son to the shocked crowd within the bar, everyone except Tobias being stunned by the slayer of slayers’ admission.

The very next day Faith found herself riding on her motorbike down a somewhat quiet road on the outskirts of Los Angeles before pulling up on the middle of the road, climbing off her motorbike, and beginning to walk further and further into the hot desert, as she pulled out her phone from her jean pocket and dialed Willow’s number before putting her on loudspeaker while continuing to walk through the desert. “I know when you think dead bodies you reckon, I am the expert, but I was better at deserting them not looking for them in a bloody desert.” Faith said with her signature sense of sarcasm after hearing Willow answer her call. “This slayer got into L.A. not long before you did Faith, we’re not sure why any slayer would be rushing to Los Angeles these days but if we failed to safe her at the very least, we should try to find answers from her death to stop it happening again,” Willow replied to her. “I get it Willow, and I’m all for helping with the bigger picture but searching for a fellow slayer’s dead body before having breakfast is not all it’s cracked up to be.” Faith complained to the red-headed witch. “I will make you all the eggs on toast if you sort out the L.A. problem. You know you’re the main girl in action with Buffy being all M.I.A. since the incident.” Willow told her while trying to butter her up, only for Faith to be left silenced by finding the body of the young slayer who looked a little too much like her for Faith’s liking. “Looks like your right once again Will.” Faith admitted as she stood over the young slayer’s lifeless body all bloodied and wounded with injuries that told a tragic tale of torture. “Whatever’s killing us slayers seem to be taking real pleasure in it…I cannot wait to kill those bastards.” “Oh, goddess, this is far from good thank the heavens you’re not going solo on this one Faith,” Willow told the former rogue slayer. “I’ll call this in to the local authorities once you have got yourself a good distance from the crime scene, you should probably report back to Angel before going in undercover on this one… the last slayer we need showing up dead next is you.” “Thanks for the sentiment Will but this is even more reason for me to get my spy mode rolling!” Faith replied to the witch before hanging up the call to her. “Rather not wait around to examine the next dead slayer who happens to look far too much like me!”

Tobias walked into the bedroom of the apartment above the dive bar which he shared with Theo, shirtless and wearing a tight boxer brief as he willingly flaunted his tanned skin, muscular frame, and handsome body while walking over to Theo who was sat on the edge of their shared bed. “You know you anger me when you question my strength in front of the customers.” Theo, who was wearing just a pair of tight white boxer briefs himself, with the rest of his own impressive body fully on show, complained to his lover. “I am mainly looking out for you, fearing for you, worrying about you, like anyone who truly loved you would,” Tobias replied as he began softly kissing Theo’s neck. “I know you are capable of anything, but I cannot help but fear that we may lose everything we have worked so hard for.” “I love you too Tobias, but you have got to have more faith in the grand plan the last thing we want is for Drusilla to learn of your doubts,” Theo said through panted breath as Tobias began working his way down Theo’s chest, kissing lower and lower, slower, and slower, as he pushed Theo back onto the bed. “I would challenge the devil himself if his plans risked your safety!” Tobias promised the man he loved before he pulled Theo’s boxers down to his ankles, proceeding to take off his own boxers and climbing onto Theo’s naked body, their two bodies crashing against each other’s, kissing passionately, as they made love to each other.

The very next night Theo had taken himself just outside of the demonic dive bar he ran with his undead partner, to enjoy a quick smoke break as he stood in the dark alleyways smoking a cigarette only to be left stunned to find a Knight haired beauty appear from around the corner, clearly walking towards him, as Theo began to wonder if he had met this woman before, noting the similarity she had to the slayer he had recently murdered. “Don’t suppose I can steal a smoke from you?” Faith asked him, knowing damn fine that this man was the man she was looking for, determined to find out more about him so she could shut down his entire operation. “Here’s the thing love, humans do not normally come around this neighborhood unless they got a death wish that is,” Theo replied to her as he suspected this woman to be another slayer, another potential victim. “I’m not fully human, I’m a vampire slayer and even then, I’m much more than just any slayer I mean I do not mean to brag but I’m probably the most famous rogue slayer to ever live the original good girl gone bad although I was never that good.” Faith revealed herself, knowing no good girls made it out of this alleyway alive. “The name’s Faith, in case you did not already work that one out.” “Rumour has it you went back to the good side even helped Buffy herself destroy a Hellmouth along with her hometown,” Theo responded, clearly knowing a little something about the vampire slayer before him. “I hate rumors I’d like to get the guy spreading that lie and cut his tongue out!” Faith lied, ready to convince this man she was as evil now as she was back when she was evil. “Heard your part of this mission about killing all slayers and I’ve been trying that one long before you, in fact, I got pretty close to killing B until the bitch gutted me that is. However, a team-up could be just what I need to take her down once and for all.” “Well then Faith,” Theo answered with a smile on his face as he threw his cigarette to the ground eagerly. “How about a drink to discuss this potential partnership?” Faith had Theo exactly where she wanted him and he had her too, Faith being determined to take down his entire operation, and Theo wanted to test the theory of whether or not Faith was really the ruthless slayer she was claiming to be, neither of them liking the answers that would follow.

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