There is something so good about Akutagawa--a very much feared, boogeyman like figure (even amongst his own men) in Yokohama because of his violence, bloodlust, and steadfast loyalty to a violent criminal organization such as the Port Mafia--given biblical angel symbolism

I don't know, something something about someone whose beauty is so incomprehensible and terrifying to most. He's not physically ugly, he's not--he's beautiful, the type of beautiful that almost feel as if he's not a real person, like he's a mirage, or a painting. But he's beautiful not like those renaissance cherubs and lovely looking maidens for angels, but more like the biblical angels with their beauty beyond mortal grasp, the beauty that brings fear and revulsion towards whoever sees them because they cannot comprehend it. Coming across him makes you understand why angels say, "Be not afraid" when they reveal themselves to mortals. An incomprehensible beauty that very few can keep looking at. A dangerous feat, literally and metaphorically.

(This isn't only with his physical appearance either--for someone who is constantly beaten down both by canon and by the fandom for being "simple", he is a terrifying bundle of different aspects that contradict each other. Like a super machine you open up and you see the intricate criss crossing of wires and bolts that hold it together. He's a mess of nerves and feelings and experiences so profound, so horrific, that you don't know where to start with him. To uncoil him and see him truly bare is almost impossible. Where does he end and the roots that connect him to the earth begin?)

Something about Akutagawa being an angel, a being created entirely to follow the will of "God", obey their every word. Unwavering loyalty to their master while singing praise. Acting entirely on the order of their master--wing always dipped in blood for his sake. A weapon of "heaven' that brings destruction to those who oppose "God" and be one of the many upon which "God" rests upon.

(Almost everything Akutagawa does is for the sake of the Port Mafia, taking orders from the "master" (boss) himself. Willingness and obedience and loyalty repeatedly exploited and used, everything he has done as one of the high ranking leaders handling most of the Mafia's dirty work playing a part so Mori's throne stays high.)

Something about comparing Akutagawa to a certain archangel, finding repulsion in "God"'s cherished creation, the inferiority that came with being "less" to "mankind", and the painful fall from grace to the deepest pits of despair when he confronts the being that created him, molded him, and then condemn him. And to his humiliation, mankind, for centuries, condemns him too.

(He can't be compared to Lucifer, God's most beloved angel. Maybe Dazai did value him, but it doesn't matter, does it? because the difference between the two is that one was cherished and one never was. However, you can compare the rage and humiliation Akutagawa felt towards Atsushi--for obtaining Dazai's approval and affection with no effort, no proper control over his skill or any seemingly differentiating quality-- to Lucifer's refusal to bow down to humanity--a creation inherently imperfect and lackluster, with not the qualities of angels. And as a result? Disgraced. Both by the creator and by ones that held their creator's favor. )

Something about Akutagawa being an angel--someone whose presence means nothing pleasant to those he appears before. A reaper of sorts, responsible for taking life and for souls to see the afterlife (killing both as an order and an act of mercy, for he despises torture and meaningless suffering). A guardian angel watching over "mankind" from afar, where he is not aware and saving him from certain death at his own expense.

There's just something so appealing about depicting Akutagawa--a fearsome, ruthless, and bloodthirsty mafioso, a boogeyman to his own men--as an angel, be it of death, of mercy, a destroying angel-- whatever anyone wants to see him as and use him for.

i know myra is canonically unattractive and that this fact is intentional to show that the *only* reason eddie married her was because her idea of loving him was an exact replica of how his mother treated him

but

ive considered the idea of conventionally attractive myra, like five foot eight bombshell myra, beating men off with a stick myra. a version of myra that's cold, calculating and smart. who is introduced through mutual friends to the well-off limo service CEO and uses every weapon in her arsenal to intrigue him so she can get his money. a myra who pursues eddie intentionally, using her attractiveness to lure him in without either of them realizing- at first- the actual reason why he allows himself to be lured. myra who mocks him when he can't perform in the bedroom on occasion. myra who zeroes in on every one of eddie's insecurities and plays on them like a fucking fiddle. eddie who for reasons he can't identify is absolutely desperate for her to stay and does anything he can to keep her. an eddie who thinks it's because he loves her, because love with a woman to eddie is always tinged with a little bit of fear, always feels a little bit like walking on eggshells. love that feels like a sacrifice of self, and not in a heroic way.

so when eddie lives (!!!!) but doesn't get divorced and the losers meet his hot wife, she sees the way the comedian eyeballs her with contempt and rage he doesn't even try to hide, sees eddie's eyes light up when richie tells a joke in a way they never do with her, and it all clicks.

those times he'd stopped her when she reached for him. how she always had to coax him into touching her, how all the physical contact that should be normal for a husband and wife was always forced and awkward on his end. she watches him laugh with this bug-eyed mess in a tacky orange polo with the collar turned up on one side, watches her husband reach over and adjust that collar, sees how neither of them even notice that he's done it. and, suddenly, she knows.

her husband, the queer.

she announces she's ready to leave, suddenly, the first thing she's said since they all sat down. raises an eyebrow at the way richie bristles and wraps a protective arm loosely around the back of eddie's chair. "eddie, darling," she purrs, "you can get the car."

eddie's already scrambling to obey. "yes, dear, of course."

she corners richie when he excuses himself because she just knows, somehow, that he's going to try to talk to eddie without her there.

he says, "im not going to say it was nice to meet you," before she even opens her mouth, and she's glad they can skip the niceties and get straight the point.

she hooks a hand on her hip, "so you have a crush on my husband." he towers over her even in her heels, but he feels, suddenly, like he's two feet tall.

"im in love with him, actually," richie admits, not at all surprised at how easy it is to do so.

her lips curl wickedly and richie wants to empty the contents of his stomach onto her shoes. "good." richie arches an eyebrow. "he'll need someone when i bleed him dry and take every. last. penny."

richie thinks about decking her, remembers they're in public, wonders if that's going to be enough to stop him. "you don't love him."

she snorts a laugh, quirks her head. "you don't miss a thing," she says, mocking. "i don't, i never have. but you know what i have done?" she leans closer, conspiringly, whispering next to his ear. "i fucked the queer right out of him." she knows, minutely, that it isn't true, but judging by the look on richie's face, he's not so sure.

eddie appears then, slips his suit jacket off and onto myra's shoulders. she throws another smile richie's direction, knows she's trained eddie well. loves how crestfallen richie looks, how hard it is for him to hide it.

eddie looks between them, "everyone getting along?"

"swimmingly," myra answers, daring richie with a bat of her eyelashes to contradict her.

"call me later," richie says belatedly, warily. he looks away from myra slowly, almost like he wants to keep an eye on her, the same way he never takes his eyes off a spider while he's getting a shoe to wack it with. eddie's blinking up at him and richie, for about the millionth time in his life, wonders what he's thinking.

"sure, rich," eddie agrees, voice soft, like it's a private thing.

"well," myra says after a charged moment, too loud in the small space, "i am ready to go, aren't you, eddie, dear?"

"yeah," eddie offers, peeling his eyes off richie and giving his wife a small smile, "i'm tired."

she says, "hopefully not too tired," and the blush that rises on eddie's cheeks makes richie's entire world tilt on its axis. she pecks a kiss right on top of that pinkness, and the red from her lipstick leaves a mark. "oops," she giggles but doesn't make a move to wipe it off. she shifts her gaze back to richie, grin wolfish.

he wishes her lipstick had smudged so he could tell himself she isn't beautiful. but it didn't and she is, and she knows it.

"don't forget to call," richie says, wanting eddie's eyes on his again.

"first thing tomorrow," myra says, tugging eddie out of the restaurant by the hand.

"bye, rich," eddie says.

"nice meeting you," myra calls over her shoulder. she loops her fingers with eddie's and waves to richie with her preoccupied hand, on purpose. something flashes through richie's eyes at the sight of it. anger definitely but something else too- determination, she thinks.

she knows he'll probably tell eddie exactly what she said, can sense that he's that type of friend. she also knows she can make certain eddie doesn't believe a word he says. a couple tears, a well placed declaration of love and loyalty- she's well aware of how to work him.

she wonders if richie will cause such a stir that she can, eventually, give eddie an ultimatum: her or his childhood pack of misfits. from the ease at which they fold into one another, she already knows it won't be easy to convince him.

but she's okay with that. she welcomes it, even. she always did love a challenge.

Celebration

Fandom: The Collector/The Collection Character: Asa Emory – the collector Relationship: Asa Emory/reader Request: Since I have seen you do some slashers, can I request Asa from The Collector? Something sweet where the reader works with him and is an alibi and then saves him when Arkin comes for him in the collection?

  You knew him from your work although you didn’t know him well. Asa was a private man, reserved to his office and displays for the museum. You were tour guide with a hand in some of the office work. After all, the museum didn’t get an awful amount of funding to be able to employee more office workers. Today, you were happy. It was a sunny day, which meant people were less likely to come to the museum for an indoor activity. Your tours still ran ever 2 hours, but a smaller group had less questions and you could normally be done within an hour, leaving an hour free. You all but skipped down the halls like a school girl, your project held tightly in your arms as you stopped outside Dr Emory office. knocking three time, you waited for him. He towered over you, and had such a demanding presences that made you weak at the knees. Your crush on his was not unnoticed by your co-workers. 

“Good morning.” You smile, trying your best to work through the flutters in your chest. “Its 1.30.” he stated, his eyes unreadable. “Oh, well, good afternoon. Could I steal a few minutes of your time?” You ask, nearly slapping yourself in the face for your mistake. His eyes darted to the folder in your arms and he stepped aside, allowing you to enter. This was a privilege in itself. Barely anyone was allowed within his office. But Asa seemed to tolerate you more than the others. Perhaps because you were his neighbour. Now that had truly been a happy accident. His previous neighbour was selling and you were looking for somewhere when you moved here. It just so happened that your neighbour to your left was also a co-worker. Entering his office was like entering a new world. The walls were decorated with various bugs throughout different ages in their lives. Butterfly’s, beetles and roaches but the most prominent member of his displays were spiders. Your attention was drawn to a particular specimen. Pinned in a shadow box was a blue spider. The sign under called it a Cobalt Blue Tarantula. “Wow, those markings are fascinating.” You mumble aloud, more to yourself that to the mans whos office you were in. “Truly. The Cyriopagopus lividum.. native to the borders of Thailand.” Asa speaks so fondly of the dead creature that it makes you smile slightly. There was no denying his love for his work. “Are they venomous?” You ask, purely out of curiosity. “Yes, but the venom not strong enough to kill an adult human. Although its not pleasant.” Asa walks past you to his desk and drawing you from your thoughts. “Now, you wanted something?” “Yes, I was wondering if you might help me with an exhibition.” You hold out the folder to him as you sit at the other side of his desk. He takes it and opens it, showing a sort of mood board you had put together ranging from other exhibitions to enclosures to photo life-spans of certain creatures. “an exhibition?” His eyes flick up to meet your own with curiosity. In truth, you hated how under appreciated he was at the museum and his knowledge should be put to good use. “Yes, for insects. Of course, I’d do most of the work, but I’d really apricate someone who I can fact check with and can offer some insight.” You smile sweetly, and the small smile that pulled at Asa’s lips told you that he was in.

-------------time skip ------------------

Your time spend with the entomologist was one of the most pleasant and interesting interactions you had had in a while. Walking to his office, you held your papers in your hands. You were about to knock when you heard voices inside. Pressing your ear against the door, you listened. “Dr Emory, unless you can provide an alibi for your whereabouts on Saturday evening, we will have enough to arrest you under suspicious of connection with the collector killings.” A voice spoke with authority. Your heart stopped. The collector killings had fascinated you ever since they had come to light. And Asa, well, he was a private man. If they were threatening such a thing, there must be something behind it. And you wanted to know. The two men that seemed to cloud your thoughts could be one. Your mind thought quickly as you came up with a plan. Knocking on the door, you walked in without waiting – something you never really did. Once inside, you acted like a deer in headlights. Two men sat opposite Asa’s desk  in suits. “oh, sorry. Are you from the board?” You asked sincerely but you didn’t let them answer before quickly adding. “Look, Dr Emory and I are neighbours. Its perfectly reasonable for us to spend our evenings and weekends in each others company. Besides, if Tiffany told you about us, she has been having an affair with the janitor.” You could tell Asa was just as stunned as you were. One of the men smiled and stood. “You don’t need to be alarmed, miss. We are from the investigations team.” He then presented his ID badge to you. “Oh, gosh. I am so sorry.” You looked stunned, despite already knowing. “Its okay. But I am interested in what you said. Do you know where Dr Emory was on Saturday evening between 5pm and 11pm?” The man leaned back on Asa’s desk while the other twisted to fully look at you. “He was with me.” You said, talking to the two detectives. “At my house.” “with you? He said he was home alone.” The one with the strong jaw line narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, well, its not against any policies, our director has been known to fire people for having… interpersonal relationships with colleagues. We’d agreed to keep it a secret. He would have been trying to protect me, in case this got out to the others.” You explain to them, not daring to look at Asa. You knew you were playing with fire here. But what you said wasn’t a stretch. The director had fired a member of the geology department… for sleeping with his wife in astrology. He really cared what staff did as long as they did their job. And didn’t fuck his wife.   “Is this true?” He asked Asa, who gave a single nod. “And is there anyone who can corroborate this?” The detective asked you, more kindly than the others. “Not really. As I said, it was a secret so I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us. Although, you can ask half the staff in this building and they’ll tell you that ive had a crush on the man since I moved here, and they know we have been spending more time together. They are so fond of teasing me for it anyway.” You manage to draw a chuckle from one as he jabbed the other detective in the shoulder which earned a smile. Apparently, there was a similar situation going on where they were. “Right, well, we’d better be on our way. We’ll be back in touch soon.” The one sitting rose to his feet, nodding to both you and Asa before he and his partner left. They left and the door had closed for a brief moment before you felt someone grab your arm and you were twisted to meet Asa. He didn’t say anything and his cheeks were slightly red, but his ears were bright red. “So, you are the collector?” You breathe, looking up at him with a small smile tugging on your lips. “What do you want?” He growled, his voice low and menacing. Oh, he wasn’t happy. “I want to know.” You breath, stepping closer to him. “You take parts, right? What do you do with them? Keep mementos? Are you making something?” His nostrils flares out, obviously angry. You understood. You had let yourself into his world, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. He couldn’t kill you because it would point the fingers back to him. No, it was smart to keep you close. He let out an exasperated sigh, reaching up and pinching his brow. “look, once this has blown over for you, I wont say a word. I don’t expect anything for it. If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.” You reassured him. “Why?” His eyes narrow at you, but you shrug. “honestly, you fascinate me.” You confess to the man, even more intrigued than before. You saw the smirk that twitched at the side of his mouth.

----------------- time skip ------------

The world of the collector was one you never dreamed you would see inside, and you loved it. It took trust to get him to let you see. First you saw the inside of the hotels lobby, then some traps, then some of the beautiful creations he made, then his prize possession. you never participated, but you provided a bit more support for him, offering help from the side lines in exchange for information and his time. If he was suspicious of you, he couldn’t deny the genuine interest in your eyes as he spoke, or how you hung on every word of his. He seemed to love how you marvelled at everything with a child-like innocents. Wide eyes and a curious mind. He kept you very close, at work and in your personal lives. It took 5 months in total for the cops to ease up off of Asa, but they still occasionally found their way to his house, watching it. He would come to yours in those situations, still keeping the façade up that you were in some kind of relationship.   Not that you cared. You found that the two of you had a lot in common which made the time easily spent. Of course, his dogs loved you. When you came round to his, they were pawing at the floor to get to you but waited for their master to give them the signal to move. They really were puppies at heart. Also, sometimes you thought Asa just said they were there to spend time with you. Either way, you didn’t mind. Tonight, you were buried in a book when a harsh knock at your door made you jump but you hurried to answer it, finding a slightly wet Asa. You smiled, stepping aside and allowing him to step in. “You’d think the police budget within the millions by how much they come around.” You giggle, helping his jacket off his shoulders to hang up to dry. He hummed in response, wiping his face with a hand to try get the stray rain droplet off. “So, how was your recent game?” you asked as he followed you into the living room, where you had been reading. You collapsed back into the couch and held your book on your lap. “Uneventful. No one worthy to take.” He mused as he walked over to your book shelf and pulled out the book he had been reading last time. As he returned to your sofa to sit beside you – a show for the police outside – the book fell open to the page he had been reading. But instead of the paperclip he had been using to keep his place, it was a book mark. A novelty bookmark that you had swiped from the gift shop. It was one of those fake 3D ones, with spiders moving on green leaf’s. You raised your book over your mouth to hide your grin. “very amusing.” He soft chuckle left his lips as he placed it to the side. You giggled, moving to reposition yourself. Your sofa faced the TV which was to the right of the window. Meaning anyone who walked by outside could see in. but it was a quiet neighbourhood. Apart from the undercover police. You lay on the sofa, your legs draped over Asa’ lap which you rested your head on some pillows propped up against the arm rest. Asa rose the book without tearing his eyes away from it to allow your legs to move before lowering to rest his forearms on your knee and thighs. Despite being a bit of a play for the police, it began to feel a little more real. You would engage him in conversation through out the evening, and he would tear his attention away from the book to ask you about your day. In fact, you had started to think that Asa had missed this. With the police’s interest dwindling, so had his trips. Even your encounters in work were now limited as you had finished your exhibition. Or many it was just the part of you that had fallen so madly in love with the man that wished he wanted your company. Your eyes left the page to glance at his face. mature features with intelligent eyes. You hated how he could make your heart stop. Maybe this was fake to him, but it was so real to you. Turning your attention back to your book, you didn’t look up until the sun had fully set. Glancing at the clock, you were surprised to see it was nearly 10pm. “Gosh, I swear I’ll never get use to these changing sunsets. Every year it takes me by surprise.” You sit up, stretching as Asa chuckles. Leaning forward, you press a kiss to his cheek before lifting your legs off his lap to stand up. Asa followed, and you smiled when he marked his page with the bookmark you had gotten him. “You’re nearly finished. I told you it’s a page turner.” You nodded to the book, which he was nearly finished save for 50 pages. “Yes, all the more reason to come back.” He shot a look over his shoulder that made you smirk. Playful teasing had become something you adored in the man. It was another reason that made you doubt this was fake. They couldn’t hear what was happening, so why play around. Sliding the book back into the slot, he picked up the remote which had been forgotten on the sofa to go to the window and place it on the stand. A ploy for him to see if they were still watching the house. “I think you’re right. They get far too much funding. It could be going to the museum.” He mused as he turned back to you. Maybe they needed to see more. Or maybe you wanted more. Just to test the waters. Walking up to him, you reach up and placed your hands on his shoulders. “Kiss me?” You whisper to him, pressing your body against his own. Wide eyes met your own and you couldn’t help but giggle. “They can see through the window.” That was enough to encourage the man to duck down, pressing a kiss to your lips. he could have lightly kissed your lips and pulled away after a few moment, but he didn’t. In fact, you were sure he had forgotten all about the car outside. His arms wrapped around your waist and you were pulled tight against his strong chest as his lips fought your own for dominance which you quickly surrendered. His tongue slipped inside your mouth, making you moan as reach up and place your hand on the back of his head near his neck to keep his mouth to your own. Not like he was pulling away any time soon. you felt him push you backwards and you allowed him to push you till your back hit the wall and he pinned you to it. they couldn’t see you anymore, but you didn’t care. Raising your right leg, you hooked it around his hip as his hand trailed down your side and followed the curve to your thigh, holding you in that position. He was driving you crazy, his touch was like fire as you cling to him. When he does pull back, you are left a panting mess with rosy cheek. But his tell was his red ears despite the smirk on his lips. “So, tell me, where does the line between fake and real stop?” he asks, keeping his face close to your own. “With a kiss like that.” You bite your lower lip, completely aware of how his hand had kept your leg hooked on his hip. “The police aren’t outside. They left over an hour ago.” Asa’s voice was low, barely about a whisper. “They did?” You raise your eye brows at him. A nod answers your question and you were left pondering your next move. “Good.” As leans down, sealing his lips over your own.

 -----time skip ------

 You were sitting in your living room, half heartedly flicking through the channel when you notice Asa’ car drive past your window. Smiling, you turn off the TV and grab your small bag. It was a Friday, which meant that Asa worked late. But it also meant you would be staying over with him. A few weeks ago, shit had really hit the fan. You really didn’t know what happened, expect that the hotel was burned to the ground, and Asa only just escaped with his life. He was badly hurt, and you were thankful that he had taken a week off for holidays. It had been holidays he was going to spend with you in his cabin up north, but plans changed. You stayed by his side during his recovery. Asa had lost nearly everything that night. His creations, his sanctuary, his dogs, his prizes. But he had been thankful to come home to you. He had extended his own holiday but you returned to work the next week. He said he had fallen while on a hike so no one questioned his cuts and bruising when he did go back. You took your bag and left your home for the evening, locking it up as you set to go to Asa. He had regained most of his energy and health back, which you were hoping he might be up for something a little more… activity related tonight. The lingerie in your bag certainly hoped so. he was already out the car and into the house as you walked up. But something caught your eye. In his living room, there was someone hiding in the corner. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the man. His name was Arkin. He had been the one who had escaped Asa, the one who caused his injuries. You only recognised him because Asa had pointed him out when the new came on one evening. And you highly doubted that he was here to say a friendly hello. Running around the back, you ducked under the window so as not to be seen. You ditched your bag in a bush as you made your way to the back door just as you heard heavy metal music blare through the house. You wanted to scream to Asa, but the glint you had seen in Arkins hands wasn’t enough to tell you if it was a gun or a knife. Slipping into his kitchen, you heard the music being turned off and then silence. You took a large knife from the knife block on the counter and held it as if to stab. And you were willing to. Then you slowly opened the bottom draw, which had some duct tape in it. You round the edge, only slightly pulling it off. If you were going to hurt someone, they cant make a lot of sound. You moved into the hallway which connected to the living room and dinning room. “All those insects. You’re quite the collector.” A voice, Arkins voice spoke, making you pause as you made sure no one knew you were here. “In a 200 mile radios from where we last saw each other, there are 14 licensed entomologists. You were number 12.” As Arkin spoke, you moved slowly down the hallway, looking behind you ever second in case someone else was here. “Your daddy ran a museum, didn’t he? Fucked you up real good.” His words made you feel sick. Asa never spoke of his father. His mother was held with high regard, and he said he wanted you to meet her when she was next in town. But he had shut off when you asked about his father. Arkin was right. “Turn around.” You pressed your back against the wall as you inched closer to the doorway. Tape in your left hand, the edge taped to your finger, and the knife in the other. You could see from the glass display cabinet that Asa and Arkin were standing face to face near the entrance to the dinning room. Arking had his back to you. And a gun raised at Asa’ face. Fear rushed through you as the analogy of ‘don’t bring a knife to a gun fight’ flooded your mind. “Are you here to kill me?” Asa spoke with a calmness you couldn’t fathom. “No. that would be too nice. First im gonna make sure feel everything that I felt. Then im gonna kill you.” You could hear the smugness in his voice. “So that you can never hurt anyone-“ He was cut off as Asa lunged at him. But Arkin gave a swift jab to the face, causing him to tumble back. Into a red box. Your gasp was covered as Arkin flipped the box and started slamming the lid shut again and again, growling “fuck you.”  Before the lack closed. he stepped back, gasping for air. He thought he was alone. Darting into the room, you raise the knie and bought it down into his right shoulder and an angle. He instantly dropped the gun. Letting go of the knife for a moment, you grabbed the roll of tape and started wrapping it round and round his mouth. He had only just managed to let out a cry of pain as his legs gave way under him. He reached up, struggling so you grabbed the knife and pulled it from the flesh. Using the sharp, bloodstained blade, you cut the tape and he collapsed to the ground moaning. You gave him a quick kick in the face before kicked the gun that had fallen out of reach. The last thing you needed was neighbours calling the police for gunfire at the house. You raced over to the box. “Asa, its me.” You reassured him through the small walls in case he tried to attack whoever opened the box. When you pulled the lid open, he scrambled to his feet, the anger in his eyes blazing as he found his attacker on the floor. Arkin was groaning, unable to move just yet but you were sure he’d be up and about soon enough. “Your hands.” You whispered, reaching out and taking his right hand which was covered in blood from Arkin slamming the box down. Your heart broke. He had not long healed. Arkin began to come around, his eyes darting between the two of you as he realized what had happened. He looked at you with an unimaginable about of rage and anger in his eyes as he tried to scream. Asa darted forward, twisting him around and pinning him to the ground, a knee in his back and his hand pressing on the new wound. “The tape.” He commanded of you, and you immediately grabbed the duct tape which had rolled away slightly. Finding the end, you saw Asa grabbing Arkins left hand and you mirrored with his right. Bringing them forcefully behind his back, you taped them in place, then went to tape his ankles together. Once satisfied, Asa hauled the man off the ground and threw him into the box, the lid closing over with the force. Asa flipped the latch. Looking him inside. You didn’t realise you were panting and shaking until Asa was looking at you. Racing forward, you wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face in his chest. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He ask, holding him as tightly as you could. A bloody hand stroked your cheek as another rubbed your back to sooth you. “No, you got here right on time.” There was a softness to his voice that made you melt as you looked up at him and smiled. “I’m too late to be a guard dog. Ludwig or Vivaldi wouldn’t have let him get close enough to hurt you.” You shake your head as you pull back, taking his hands in your own once again to inspect the damage. But he turned his hands over and took your own. “How about we go up to the cabin this weekend?” Asa askes, his question not very well fitted for the currant moment. “huh?” Your eyes glanced to the box which was moving slightly as Arkin struggled. “Oh, we’ll take him. And, since I am out of commission right now, perhaps I can show you some tricks.” Asa smirked as your eyes light up at his words. “Yes!” You bounce on the balls of your feet. You went up on your tiptoes to kiss him, resisting every urge not to pull him upstairs to his bedroom right now. Pulling back, you dart down and pick up the gun, offering it to Asa. “I’ll go get some stuff to see to your hands. And I’ll run back and pack a quick bag and then come and pack your things. I think I should drive, though. You’ll have to give me instructions.” You rattle off, the excitement obvious in your voice. “Oh, you’ll get use to taking instruction this weekend.” Asa whispered in your ear, making you blush and bite your lip with a smirk. Arkin seemed to get a burst of energy and started flaying around in the box, which only moved slightly. “He truly is annoying, isn’t he?” you huffed, hating the moment was ruined by him. Asa simply chuckled and walked up to the box, sitting on it and stopping it from shifting. As you flitted around, gathering supplies and seeing to his hands and then packing his things, Asa watched with a soft eyes. He would be lying if he said he trusted you from the start. And even more so if he admitted there had still been a small part of him that thought you were with the police. but that doubt was well gone. And this weekend, he wanted to celebrate this strange relationship. And oh, what a celebration it would be.

hunty movie 1

sooo ruth and i watched the first hxh movie holla

me as soon as we’re done w/the yorknew arc: OH FUCKY ITS ANIME MOVIE TIME

i love anime movies. theyre so often Entertaining As Hell, and also Not Very Good. its a very fun intersection 

overall this movie slots pretty easily into that category. it was a good time but nothing revolutionary. which is ok! and that makes sense bc its not canon apparently 

this movie was basically the ‘killua and kurapika have Trauma(tm)’ movie lmao 

we open w/killua having a trauma dream abt illumi, rehashing the stuff we saw in the hunter exam arc....we see this a few more times in the movie, and it really drives home how killua is still rlly scared of illumi and kinda just goes into a dissociative trauma state whenever illumi is around (even fake doll illumi or dream illumi, in this movie). poor kid :( :( 

regrettably tho ruth and i agree that illumis outfit in this movie was pretty sexy 

ok that whole beginning part where kurapikas eyes get stolen happens SO fast hvbfhdjshfsk its like ok guess thats the status quo for this movie!

jesus poor kurapika. they cant catch a fuckgin break huh

also that kid was totally the kid that was alluded to by kurapika at the end of the yorknew arc...so i guess that was included in the anime as a setup for this movie? 

also apparently that stuff was based off of a short story thing the author did a while ago which is p cool

leorios terrible drawing skills is hvhbjsdfbsdfngsjkdf

also leorio is so tender w/kurapika hhhhhhh im gonna die. im gonna gay die

and gon and killua are just. tiny soulmate boyfriends ok 

ah yes i see the obligatory movie original character who befriends the protag

it kinda cracks me up how hostile killua is to retz like vhbhskhdfbaj i get that its bc of Trauma and his fear of betrayal/betraying but it also reads as killua being a Jealous Gay which is kinda hilarious 

ruth and i when hisoka shows up: [prolonged annoyed groaning and dismayed yelling]

hisoka literally just shows up to sow chaos and throw around information to stir shit up huh

of COURSE the villain is the former 4th spider thats like. easy choice lmao 

it might just be the fansubs but i feel like there were strong implications that hisoka and 4th spider guy fucked bhjdfashfdjnakn

the most unbelievable thing abt this whole thing is that hisoka didnt kill that doll guy lmao 

ohhh shit its uvo

OHHH SHIT NOBUNGA AND MACHI....its so bad but i really like the troupe members and when they show up im like !!!!!!!

machi is so cooooool

aughhhh its like....i feel bad for nobunga for having to face down uvo like this....and THEN when pakunoda shows up too :( and nobunga tells her doll ‘rest in peace now’ or something when he cuts her down....oof. but also like theyre evil murderers so im!?! conflicted?!?!

also the shadow beast guys that uvo killed showing up and then proceeding to do LITERALLY NOTHING was kinda hilarious

and damn so technically the troupe is on the same side as the main crew, what with all of them wanting to wreck omokages shit

also omokage looks like sephiroth lmaoooo 

ill be honest i barely know what sephiroth looks like but ruth said this and i felt in my bones that its true 

ok i gotta talk abt the kurapika backstory stuff bc OUUGHGHGHGHGH my fucking UWUS BITCH!!!!

seeing a bunch of kurta was sad....and seeing baby-er kurapika OUGH and also pairo is sooo cute and him and kurapikas friendship is so pure 

kurapika is so different :( theyre like, so much more innocent and excitable....thats so damn sad bro wtf 

pairo pulling some slick moves swapping that little potion thing - all while using his blindness as a cover - was so good...no wonder he and kurapika get along so well 

also gotta say its even more brutal that one of the main reasons kurapika didnt get Big Murdered w/the rest of the kurta is bc pairo pulled this stunt - if he hadnt, kurapika wouldve failed the test and never would have left 

also kurapika saying theyre gonna find someone who can help w/pairos eyes ;_; the similarities w/leorios backstory/motivation makes me die 

and seriously im still caught up at how innocent and pure kp is oooof ough 

tho still defs the kurapika we know....theyve seemingly always had a temper, what with the reaction to the dudes in the market 

like, kurapika did NOT hold back...even after finding out that they were just part of the test! tho i do get it bc they insulted pairo...kurapika’s love for their friends/stalwart need to defend their friends is clearly a big thing 

also the market people’s reaction to seeing kp’s red eyes is rlly interesting to me...are the kurta like, known to anybody? or are they more of a vaguely talked-about group that like, ‘probably exists’? or is it that people know abt them but not the red eyes thing? it seems like these people, if any, would know, bc this market is seemingly a day’s travel from where the kurta live....i want more kurta lore bro!!

i big love pairo helping kurapika cheat like that....such an interesting twist, and makes it obvious that theirs is a friendship of equals 

anyways i loved that flashback stuff and it just drives home how absolutely fucked up and horribly sad kurapikas whole existence is, especially in this movie w/pairo’s doll being used against them

n e ways back to the non flashback stuff

i love that gon’s super nose returned for this movie omg 

im just auhghghghgh gon and killua know each other so well uwu....

aaaand illumi (well, doll illumi) is back to fuck shit up for poor killua

ugh it still gets me how clearly terrified of illumi killua is...we dont really see him act like this any other time :( and the fact that doll-illumi was able to scare killua enough to get him to run away and leave gon behind (albeit briefly) was oof 

gon jumping in front of killua and getting his eyes stolen instead....baby boyyyy oughhh

also can i just say thank fuck they didnt replace illumis eyes w/gons bc THAT wouldve been some serious nightmare fuel lmao 

cant believe killua then ran away again and walked emo-ly on the train tracks 

and THEN he saw a train coming and was like oh well :( guess ill die :/ JESUS KID 

but gon w/his Big Sniff Powers comes to the rescue!!

it was so cute how gon told killua that killua didnt run and abandon him - they were working together to fight :’) gon understands killua so well 

i love how the squad then squads up to fight omokage...with half of them being blind lmao 

and in the half that isnt blind is leorio, who STILL doesnt know nen, and literally brings a knife to a nen fight 

i totally saw the whole ‘retz is a doll and her older brother is omokage, and retz actually died a while ago’ thing coming lol but still, not bad

all omokage does is talk abt the beauty of his dolls or w/e like ENOUGH bro 

kurapika fighting pairo and killua fighting illumi (AGAIN) was all so fucked up they shouldve switched opponents for less trauma oof 

and poor leorio is literally no help vhhvdijfhjbashkj he just gets throw around this whole time

kurapikas fight against pairo was sad bc it was such a fucked up situation...kp did gr8 tho, i liked them saying that this isnt the real pairo, cause pairo would never say/do these things. still and extremely sucky situation to be in! 

meanwhile its the gon and killua vs doll-illumi rematch...and this illumi is like, a version of illumi drawn from killuas mind/heart (or something idk, it was kinda glossed over which i understand), which means that hes extra scary and focused on telling killua how much hes just a mindless killing machine who cant have friends 

but luckily we have gon here to help snap killua out of his trauma haze, which certaintly wasnt the case at the hunter exam - so it was kinda nice to see how things went w/gon around :’) they work so well together oughhhhh....and they love each other so much broo gay preteen love real 

hisoka just fuckgin materializing in the house place to help sow more chaos....unbelievable 

me: i bet hisoka wont want to fight doll chrollo bc its not The Same as real chrollo 

ruth: no i think he will bc hes a whore 

hisoka: [fights doll chrollo] 

me: oh shit u right 

kurapika: ok omogake its time for you to FUCKING DIE- 

and then killua stops them and says that he’ll do it, be he doesnt want kurapika to kill anymore :( :( :( bro im sooo fucking sad. killua rlly b out here thinking that hes already too far gone to matter when it comes to murder, but he doesnt want his friends to end up like that, so he might as well take on that burden, because whats one more person’s death on his hands? (EVEN THO HE SAID HE DIDNT WANT TO KILL ANY MORE...but theres exceptions when it comes to saving your friend’s souls and whatnot) :( :( AUGHHH

but luckily retz comes THRU with some good ole fratricide

killua: [takes notes]

the fact that the phantom troupe just fuckgin shows up and is like oh hey its you guys. this casual enemy stuff kills me lmao i love it 

then they just fuckgin LEAVE and theyre like welllll we cant rlly fight u bc of chrollo’s state so by i guess. its NOT On Sight but someday it will be! YOU TOO HISOKA DONT THINK WE FUCKIGN FORGOT ABOUT YOU. 

dramatic house burning! and rip retz, saw that one comin tho 

when they all went thru and said their life goals and then killua was like shit i dont have a cool definitive anime goal LMAOOOO

but THEN gon said his goals should be to stay by gon’s side UHMMM???? baby gays AUGHHHHH and killua is just like lovestruck AUGHHHH 

Gays Win 

then they all peace out to resume the next arc lmaoooo

and then we see flashes of other characters, like the blonde girl (who ruth and i totally thought retz was, seeing thumbnails from this movie....we were like w8 hasnt that girl not been introduced yet??? lmao)

we also see some dude w/long hair and a hat who ive never seen before but ruth went OHHH ITS SCYTHE GUY!!! so i guess hes gonna b important?? lol 

and then we saw chrollo....still in the same place the squad left him vbhajfdjkahsbfkdjabhsukfdj CAN HE NOT GET DOWN FROM THERE W/OUT NEN OR AN AIRSHIP??? THATS SO FUCKING FUNNYYYYYY ARE YOU KIDDING ME 

general thots:

so this was very much an Anime Movie, in that they cant like, advance to plot or develop the characters much, bc its a movie. and this one is non canon

it was enjoyable but i do feel like it was much more typical shounen then hxh usually is...like, i feel like this was made by the same people who make like, the naruto movies or w/e, and w/the same sort of approach/attitude 

this isnt necessarily bad - i LIKE shounen for a reason - but it was a bit noticeable bc it wasnt quite as smart as hxh is usually, and it rehashed a lot of stuff weve already seen in this show itself 

but still i think it did a good job w/what it had, and it had some good angst, and everyone was very gay which is good

the art style was SLIGHTLY wack but it wasnt as bad as i thought itd be 

overall a fun time like most anime movies. didnt reinvent the wheel but i had a good time. im excited for the greed island arc, and im also disproportionately excited to watch the hxh musical bc that is a thing that exists and i MUST see it asap bc that sounds like the kind of hilarious wackiness that appeals to me specifically

so thats it...later! 

The Demon Lord’s Generals 3

Chapter 3 – The Infernal Educator

Tokru 10th, 2924

The Demon Lord Oglizu IV is killed in battle against the Chosen Hero, Cyril Corner of Rosiava, on the fields of Naloriva.

At the same time, within the town of Gravelane, Inrapaba, the third son of the Samore family is born to Marwen and Dorothea Samore. He is named Hans, after his grandfather, who died in service to the Demon Lord. This event is not yet significant to history.

Jubi 27th, 2931

Hans Samore, at six years old, meets and befriends Florent Linsal, a nineteen year old college student at the nearby Losgrum Institute of the Infernal Arts and Mystic Sciences and a childhood friend of Hans’s oldest brother, Ludo.

Linsal had been studying to become an instructor, and liked kids. As such, he encouraged the quiet, well-read boy to study further and explore the true mysteries of the world they lived in. Twelve years later, Linsal would kill seventeen people of varying races and rob numerous graveyards in several attempts to form a unique type of “flesh golem” at the behest of an unknown sponsor. He was caught, convicted, and executed by the Fevokin Clan of Olafiba.

This event was not relevant to Hans, who spent his youth studying, learning, and speaking with the other scholars of the Institute. From them, he gained a love of learning, and a dream of teaching like those proud professors who lectured in their great halls.

This decided his eventual fate.

Ludo Samore would inherit his parent’s pottery shop, and live a calm, peaceful life. Kurt Samore would join the Land Guard of Inrapaba, take a severe amount of bribes, and inadvertently drown himself when a drunken, miss-timed step sent him into a canal within the city of Lordsgrave. 

And Hans Samore would become a warlock. While teaching was most certainly his deepest passion–a dream he wanted to pursue more than anything–he discovered what he would pursue as his central discipline within a far more beautiful place.

The Written World–crafted by scribes and scholars and formed into those grand bastions of knowledge known as libraries–drew him in as the sun above draws flowers birthed by its light. And it was there, within the pages of some great tomes, Hans found that he quite adored demons.

Neroh 20th, 2942

Hans Samore officially enters the university portion of the Logrum Institute as the first semester of the year begins. 

He promptly entered into the field of “Demonic Studies”, majoring in both Infernal Magics and Education, and began his higher education career without hesitation after many years of learning at a variety of libraries and the lower levels of the Institute. He met many people there, friends and acquaintances; some he kept, some he lost, many he was glad to know, and none he truly hated.

There were a few he didn’t like, certainly, and there were others he liked a great deal. Elizabeth Maribelle Tealmarn–Eliza or Liza to her friends, never Lizzy or Elly unless one wanted to get stabbed with a foreleg–of the Starshire Coterie was one individual who fit in both categories, albeit at separate times. 

She also happened to be a vibrant blue and white-flecked aranae–in essence, a giant sapient spider–much to Hans’s immediate fascination, which she promptly found annoying, and that was how he wound up being stabbed on his second day of university. A good start, all things considered, and the two of them quickly became something of academic rivals, though they did gradually drift apart for some time.

Hans wanted to be an educator, and Eliza wanted to be an arcanist; the two had overlapping interests, but not fully concurrent ones, so he eventually did have to say goodbye to his friend as the focuses of their courses changed. That, and Eliza decided to join up with the Demon Lord Fearon, who wasn’t a particularly impressive lord and barely lasted two years before being challenged by a rival by the name of Orast, who lasted a good deal longer.

Not that such matters mattered in the slightest to Hans, who was occupied with other matters of greater importance, at least to himself. Namely, he had obtained his first teaching job.

Pibri 27th, 2947

On this date, three years into his job educating a number of adolescents at the Fierview Academy, Hans Samore lost his right arm.

The entire right arm. All the way up to his shoulder.

Suffice to say, that was rather inconvenient.

Certainly, he would later refer to this incident as an “unfortunate poultry accident” in good humor, but at the moment, there was a great deal more screaming of curses at the typhonic cockatrice that had quite literally ripped his arm straight from its socket in a messy spray of gore and gulped it down like an owl would a rat. 

It certainly didn't help that the beast had caught him off guard when some students came running through the campus halls. Three of his students had apparently thought they could take down the terrifying cockatrice through their combined might, confident and self-assured in that foolish way many teenagers could be. They were very wrong, and the trio learned that lesson well. 

Thankfully, Hans was able to keep it from being a fatal lesson, though if there was one thing he regretted about that day, it would be that he was unable to finish the beast himself. Blood loss along with severe pain tends to prevent one from focusing long enough to cast spells, as he would learn that day. Equally thankfully, he managed to defend himself long enough for his fellow teachers to save him.

If there was any form of short term benefit, he would have said it would be that he was able to catch up in his reading while he recovered. That, and cockatrice organs did make for good materials...

However, for Hans, life would never be the same. He had to take some time off teaching to recover, and he had to get used to only using his left arm. The phantom pain was also certainly a pain to deal with. 

However, he did find one method that would change his life, also ensuring that it would never be the same, but in a more positive manner.

Ondru 3rd, 2947

Contracting with a demon was certainly a tricky thing to do. While some people might assume that a demonic contract would always be with an Ouzan, otherwise known as a Demon God, that was rarely the case, and it certainly wouldn't work well in his case. As much as he adored the demonic, he knew his desires would not be fulfilled if he tried to beg the gods for relief.

Why, who would give someone like him godly power simply because his wanted arm back? It was still a shame though, he would have loved a meeting with the Ouza, though that most likely would have ended with his death for calling upon one for something so petty. The Ouza were amazing, wondrous deities, but that did not make them nice.

As such, he did the next best thing: summon an Acedian. 

It was a logical move. He certainly wasn’t the first person to make an arm out of a demonic entity–really, the natural metaphysical nature of demons and how they could be subjugated made them extremely useful entities for creating any sort of weapon or artifact–and he wasn’t seeking a great power or strength from the deal. He just wanted a new arm. So why not go for the laziest variant of demon out there?

And so, after several months of studying and preparation, he called forth the demon Ko. She was a half-ethereal being, her blue skin phasing between flesh and water, with long, drooping, royal blue hair that looked as though it had never been cut, flowing down her body like the loose fabrics draped over her.

And thankfully, it appeared she was willing–speak, trade–to negotiate. All things considered, he was quite lucky. Acedians were, of course, incredibly lazy beings, it came with their nature, but their dispositions could vary. While one would regard a summoning as a slight diversion, something to go along with to get through it easier, a different one would have tried to lop off his head if he hadn't put down a containment seal on the circle. Sometimes laziness meant laxness, other times it meant hostility towards those that would ask for any type of effort.

Ko was the former, and at the cost of one eye–easy trade, nothing to worry, good value–he formed a contract with her, and he was able to regain his arm. Or, to be more accurate, he gained a new arm, which came with its own set of problems. 

It was certainly odd; with just a thought he could reform his arm at any time–albeit one made of cloth–and yet it took more than a thought to master. Simply growing accustomed to writing with that arm took months, a good deal of which was spent gaining enough control to not snap what he held. Legibility, on the other hand, took much longer, not helped by his sharp decrease in depth perception. 

He would never fully regain the ability to feel with that arm. It would always feel dulled at best, as though he was gripping objects through a thick glove. 

His contract with Ko did allow him full use of his arm, and a guarantee that she would never try taking control of it at any inopportune times, though it did come with the further cost of her running commentary in the back of his head. She did tend to sleep a great deal, so it wasn’t too constant, but she had a surprising energy for complaining when he went for more strenuous activities.

Ah well, such was life. Of more concern, though less immediate to him than his physical issues, was the worsening situation in the Dark Lands. Fearon was not dead yet and was stubbornly clinging to what territories he had claimed in the swamplands, while Orast had gained a great deal of power up in Olafiba, which put Inrapaba straight in the middle of an increasingly aggressive and personal war to become the “True Demon Lord”. 

It was a fascinating conflict and certainly an interesting time to live it, but Hans did not want to get involved in any of it, so he came to the conclusion that a sabbatical was in order. He’d lost a great deal, and learned just how little he knew. Not merely about fighting and killing, but about the world. About expecting how strange and sudden the world could be.

So off he went, to new lands.

Ecta 4th, 2955

Pianaro de Liorzula was a lovely city situated in the “Third Country” of the Sun Lands, the northwestern portion of the southernmost continent, dominated by rivers, canals, and great lakes. As such, it was a naturally humid and often sweltering portion of the vast continent, though one wouldn’t think that if they lived in Pianaro.

Unlike a majority of the hot and sunny Sun Lands–something of a redundancy there–Pianaro was a surprisingly temperate location, located, as it was, on one of the many lakes dotting Liorzula. An odd place for the grand mix of library and dungeon known as the Paper Church, certainly, but one that seemed to work well for it.

Hans certainly didn’t mind the intriguing change of scenery. The way sunlanders would raise the very earth up from the bottom of lakes to form their cities right on a source of freshwater was quite inspired. He’d seen more than his fair share of ramshackle docktowns back along Inrapaba’s marshes and Ostrotoba’s swamps, so to see such grand stone structures–mostly composed of lighter, white stones decorated with indigo and violet paints and patterns–rise out of the waters like cresting whales frozen in place was inspiring, in a way.

Though, supposedly, the “Written Church” had not been built on a lake. Rather, the lake came to it, according to legend. Supposedly, some followers of one of those Rakuli Elders–the “divine” or “angelic” counterparts to the Ouzan Ancients–had declared the Ouzan Church to be blasphemous and heretical, and did what most zealous sects were want to do; namely, they attempted to destroy it, and failed miserably. No fire could catch on the pale stones of the palatial church–each bearing inscriptions and writings from perhaps thousands of scholars–and the stones would not obey the fools’ demands to sink it into the earth.

As such, the zealots decided to drown the demonic library, and, as such stories often went, wound up ending their own lives in the folly. Sources argued on whether the zealots had unleashed the demonic guardians of the church, who then drove them mad, or if they drowned in their attempt to sink the structure, but regardless, they were said to have died gruesomely, so all’s well that ended–

“Hans, we have a guest,” Bishop Hashid spoke, interrupting his musings and drawing Hans’s attention away from the tomes he’d been cataloguing into the Church’s libraries. A number of demonic ones, newly recovered from one of the sunken pyramids, though they were copies rather than the originals, which needed to be kept– “Hans.”

Hans blinked at the marid. “Er, yes?”

“We have a guest from the Dark Lands. I want you to show her around. You need some time out of this backroom, you know?” He smiled, the action shifting the blue markings drifting down his dark, bearded face.

“Ah. Of course, sir.”

He sighed. “You don’t need to call me sir.”

“Er, yes, sir.”

Bishop Hashid just sighed again, then walked on out, folding his hands into his white, word-covered robes. A second later–well, a few seconds...maybe a minute or two–Hans got up from his desk and headed through the vast shelves to the main foyer of the Church, which was as lovely as ever. 

Brilliant white lanterns illuminated the mosaic floors, which had four “paths” snaking out from the main doorway and leading into the four primary sections of the library: one on the left, one on the right–which Hans was coming from–and two directly across from the entrance, one with a staircase leading upwards and the other going down. There was also a central desk–manned by acolytes of the church–and in front of said desk was a rather fascinating individual:

An arachne, clad in a deep indigo, high collar dress that was laced in and button with a number of sapphires–the cold-associated gems certainly explained how she appeared to be fine wearing such thick garments in the heat of the Sun Lands–and matched by a wide-brimmed hat that covered her otherwise shaved head. Further of interest was her rather unique skin tone, compared to most arachne, which featured a primarily blue chitin flecked with white spots, almost like freckles–

“Hans?” Oh. 

“...Eliza?”

“...” Elizabeth Tealmarn eyed him for a moment, all eight of her upper pupils examining his form. “...You look dehydrated.”

He was missing an arm and an eye, and yet that was what she chose to notice. Odd. “I have been busy. Water would ruin the books.”

“Good to hear you’re still an idiot.” She sighed, then seemed to brighten and smiled. “Well, I suppose this is fortuitous regardless. Now I don't need to force pleasantries with someone I don't know.” 

“Does that mean it won't be forced with me?”

“Oh gods no, why would I be pleasant with you?” 

Hans chuckled. “It’s good to see you too, Lizzy.”

Oh, he actually dodged the stab that time. Wonderful! Though he didn't dodge her leg smacking against him. Less wonderful. 

Anyhow, as it turns out, once it became clear the–now deceased–Demon Lord Fearon was going to lose, Eliza metaphorically jumped ship, leaving his forces behind and making her way to the Sun Lands to lay low for some time. The Demon Lord Orast was rather annoyed at her, after all, and the remnants of Fearon’s forces weren’t happy either, so a trip to another continent seemed quite warranted. And it appeared that she wished to spend her time there studying, hence why she came to Scripture's church. 

And so, it came as no surprise that Hans was tasked with being her guide while there. The church was rather protective of its books, and–regardless of who they may be–all guests needed someone to keep an eye on them to ensure nothing was damaged or taken. Thankfully, it appeared that Eliza did not abruptly gain a hatred for the written word since they last met, and she was even able to use her multiple sets of eyes to quickly transcribe whatever caught her interest onto any paper she brought with her, her lower ones constantly reading, while her upper ones stayed trained on what she was writing. 

A handy talent, and one he honestly wanted, but likely could not obtain due to actually having one less eye than the average human. And he could not replace it due to the deal he made. And adding more eyes would likely involve some intense bodily modifications so–Yes, bad idea, dropping that idea.

However, her talent did mean that her time at the church wasn't particularly long, and she would soon come to part with the church. Although she wouldn't be going alone. 

Hans enjoyed the church, certainly, and he greatly enjoyed reading the tomes available to him, but he wanted more experiences from life, and Eliza did insist on having him come along with her. Not because she didn’t have anyone around and was feeling lonely, but because he could be useful, “for a cripple”.

Suffice to say, he enjoyed showing off his demonic arm when the first occasion came, though it did result in her deciding he could carry her bags after all, so there were gains and losses there. More losses, particularly when Ko awoke and started complaining in his mind–what, no, book place comfy, good place, go back–about leaving the comforts of the library. 

Ah well. Such was life.

Neroh 5th, 2967–

“HANS! GET UP HERE ALREADY!”

Hans sighed, and closed his book as he got out of his bunk, ignoring the mutterings–irritating arachnid, make her quiet, easy to kill–of his demonic partner in his brain.

“We won’t be killing Eliza, I’m very fond of her,” he replied as he made his way up on deck, where the storm clouds overhead roiled and the seas toiled.

“You’re damn right you won’t be killing me,” Eliza snapped, frowning at him first, then at his arm, “Is it talking again?”

“She is, yes.”

“She, yes, right. No matter, we’re here.” She turned, her arms crossed over her chest as she looked over the side–portside, if he remembered his nautical terms correctly–towards the heavily forested shoreline of Ostrotoba.

“Ah, the Swamplands. As beautifully dreary as they’ve ever been,” he commented, smiling. Really, the land there was more mud and water than actual soil, but still the trees persisted. Stubborn plants, as befitting a very stubbornly untamed land.

“We both come from Inrapaba. Do we have any right to be calling anywhere in the world ‘dreary’?”

“You forget, but I grew up in the eastern side. Mine hometown was a snowy wonderland, though I doubt it compared to the Starshire caverns, Lady Tealmarn.”

Eliza did not huff, as that would not be polite. She did, however, shoot him a glare. “...Our privileged upbringings do not decrease the dreariness of the rest of those sodden marshlands we’re forced to call home.”

“By dint of some borders established long ago, quite.” He grinned up at her. “Is that a sense of awareness, mine lady? Our travels certainly have been good for you.”

“I can and will throw you overboard.”

“I have a water demon for an arm.” Wash spider, sea take. “She can swim, Ko.” Fehhhh…

“Do you even realize how eerie it is when you do that?”

“I realize, and I find it fun.”

“Hmph.”

And so, Hans Samore returned to the Dark Lands. It wouldn’t be the last time, certainly, but it was good to be home. Well, on his home continent.

He did visit many of his old haunts–his family’s pottery shop was doing well, and Fierview Academy was undergoing some much needed reconstruction after a series of unfortunate conflagrations–and yet, his wanderlust remained, despite Ko’s frequent, if half-hearted and somewhat sleepy, protests; as such, the siren song of adventure–nooooooo...–called!

And he did have a great many adventures, most of which did not involve an immediate threat of death. Not all though, and those ones did tend to stick in his mind, for obvious reasons.

One even involved sirens! Fascinating beings, really, if very odd; they were somewhat like a mix of harpies and mermaids, with forms consisting of folkish upper bodies covered in fish-like scales, feathers in place of body hair, avian wings in place of arms–noticeably mimicking the wings of seabirds, specifically–and piscine lower halves. It was certainly strange to see them move, and they had the most delightful of singing voices, though the hypnotic quality of said voices was an issue, as was that particular tribe’s penchant for robbing and murdering their unwary victims.

Thankfully, with Ko's help–hey hey hey hey, ignore noise, focus–he was able to remain unaffected on his own journey to their small island off the coast of Skiritaba, even if it was only because the demon only acted once it seemed like he would die. 

Despite the fact that his initial meeting with them had gone rather poorly, a part of him was hoping to meet more people of their species. Hypnosis was a rather rare art, so for an entire species to be able to innately use it was fascinating. Unfortunately, it appeared the majority of their race lived within the Dusk Lands, likely being a native race to the mysterious sub-continent, so his chances of encountering a peaceful tribe were rather slim.

Especially considering how every expedition to those lands failed miserably. The deep, dark, nearly black fog covering that entire region of the sea meant anyone entering would either find themselves lost until they successfully left the fog at another end, or they would simply never come out. Supposedly, the fog could tell if one's intentions were peaceful or malicious, and those with evil intentions would never leave…

But no matter on that. Hans had other things to focus on, and while he often spent his time in the Dark Lands as a tutor and educator–primarily for the families of nobilities though he did spend a number of years traveling from various academies and institutes to provide an education in the demonic arts to a broader audience–he’d often spend a great deal of time on expeditions as well. 

Really, throughout the majority of the 60s and entirety of the 70s, he was traveling around the Dark Lands and its various regions, studying the cultures and offering his own learnings to those interested. He even published a multitude of books focused on demonology and the infernal arts.

Granted, that did bring him some unwanted attention from those seeking power. For some reason, a number of idiots seemed to believe his fascination with the demonic meant he would be interested in joining their efforts in whatever false rhetoric they felt like spouting at the moment. Ridiculous excuses for their violence would always spill from their lips so readily–declarations of vengeance against the cruel Light Land kingdoms, pledges to overthrow the “tyrannical” Rakuli, promises to promote some sort of “natural” rights, etcetera–and Hans had no patience for any of them.

Certainly, an evil soul that was honest about their evil wasn’t any better than one that pretended they were working for a greater good, but the insistence that they were working for higher purposes grated. It was like they thought he was stupid.

Though, perhaps he was? In the 80s, as the first successful Demon Lord in some time began to rise–some idiot called Irascagan with more power than sense and a disturbing lust for blood–he’d decided to travel back to the Sun Lands once more, to study those lands again and avoid the conflicts, which he successfully did for a number of years. Yet for all his vaunted intelligence, he really didn’t see it coming when, on an expedition to the South Pole, a member of his own research team went mad and butchered every single person there on the 5th of Ondru, 2989.

Aside from Hans–and Ko–of course.

Suffice to say, Hans decided it was best to stay at his own home continent after that one. The South was just too heated–booooo…–for him. Really, the fact that the South Pole was a burning land of eternal Summer should’ve clued him into its volatility...

Besides, he had other things to do. He was in his sixties by that point, and relaxing for a few years sounded like a good plan. Eliza had her own Conservatory set up for some time, with an apparent focus on cataloguing and preserving various specimens of monstrous species from around the world, and while he did enjoy his time with her–though she could be rather obtuse at times–he still wanted to travel, and if there was one thing the lightlanders were good for, it was ridding the Dark Lands of annoyingly violent leaders.

So he traveled once more, with some slight idea in mind of perhaps, maybe, finding an apprentice. He’d had students, certainly, a great many students he adored a great deal, but he’d never taken on a singular pupil directly into his tutelage to pass on every detail he had of his craft and knowledge. 

It wasn’t an immediate concern to him; he certainly had no fear for his own mortality, but still, there was that thought, sitting in the back of his mind. 

Suffice to say, he didn’t think he’d find a shockingly good candidate so abruptly on a small trip to Fallrein, on one warm summer evening.

Seta 12th, 2997

“So, was there a particular reason you chose mine hotel room to burgle, young one?” Hans asked the youth once he had them properly restrained at the room’s tea table. Conjured crimson chains–layered multiple times because the youth had an intriguing talent for dispelling magic–kept them secured to one chair as Hans sat in the other, pouring tea for them both.

“...” The youth simply glared at him, their bright, vivid emerald green eyes narrowed in anger beneath their fiery, orange bangs and the dark hood they wore, yet there was no hint of shame. 

“You noticed the enchantments and wards I had set, I’m sure,” he continued as he added and stirred some honey into his cup, “Eyes are windows to the soul, and yours shine with infernal magic. You had to have noticed, yes?”

“...Of course I did,” the youth replied, shifting only slightly in their restraints. Perhaps testing how tightly they fit? Not that it mattered, the chains were being maintained by Hans’s will and would tighten or loosen at his discretion. “Someone with so many protections would have to be rich. That makes them worth robbing.”

Hans couldn’t help chuckling at their reply. “True, quite true, unless they happened to be impoverished but skilled.”

“Then they wouldn’t be staying in a hotel. They’d make their own place.” Surly, but a good answer.

“You do make a good point, young…?”

“Lady.” She scowled deeper then, showing her very white teeth, which were quite unlikely to be seen in a presumably homeless thief.

“Oh ho? Lady is an interesting choice of words. Are you not a common woman then?”

The girl stiffened, then glared right at him. “Fuck you!”

Hans did his best to keep himself form smiling there as her voice cracked. Decades of experience–and a simple understanding of people–informed him that teenagers were not happy to be condescended to and if he gave the young lady the impression that he did not take her seriously, she was bound to react poorly. “I beg forgiveness, young lady. How may I offer my aid?”

Her anger flickered out, a candle snuffed with a confused frown. “...What? Aid?”

“Of course. I am a tutor of nobility, you see, and a young lady in obvious trouble does naturally prompt mineself to take action. So, would you like for me to purchase a room for you here?”

“...No. I don’t need charity.”

Hans raised an eyebrow and made a very deliberate point to look over the dark, stained and torn cloak and equally patchy pants she was wearing. And… “Are you using stones for shoes?”

“...I-It’s easier. Rock magic makes it...Sh-Shut up.”

Letting out a sigh, Hans brought his hand up, and with a flick of his wrist, her rock shoes fell apart. 

“H-Hey! What the fuck was that for!?” she exclaimed as she tried to move away. 

“Oh my, my apologies, it now appears as if I owe you one.” 

“W-Wha–Fuck you!” 

Hans remained quiet and kept a neutral face as he took in the blisters and bloodstains covering the young lady’s feet. It took a great deal of effort to avoid sighing.

“Well, since we are at a hotel, I shall be going to get something to eat. I hope that would make up for mine accident?”

“What? Why would that make up for anything?”

“Oh? I had assumed a meal would, at the very least, make up for mine accident, but if you believe I owe more, I would certainly wish to repay you promptly.”

“...U-Uh...W-Wait, you meant...You’re giving me a meal?” Oh, the hope she tried to hide there nearly broke the old man’s heart. He wouldn’t show that though. 

“A meal, and a room, if you want. I owe you, and debts need to be repaid.” Hans smiled. “And no, this is not something you will ever need to ‘pay me back’ for. This is mine repayment to you. That is the terms of our agreement, and will be the end of any interactions between us, if that is what you wish.”

The girl visibly swallowed, her nervousness obvious, and yet, she took a chance. “Th-Those...Those shoes were, uh...p-pretty important to me. So...w-with the sentimental value, a-and all…” She was tense, wary of pushing too far and upsetting him.

But Hans was a patient man, and he had interacted with many children in his long life. So he smiled again. “Then yes, I do believe I owe you a great deal more, in that regard. So it is mine solemn promise to you, young lady, that I, Hans Samore, shall repay mine debt to you in full.”

Despite his promise, it took a great deal of time for that wariness to fade. The young lady was a cautious person, one who only told him her name was Miriam–though she stated a preference for shortening said to “Mira”–after he’d fully paid for both her meals and room. Still, he was glad to have met her, and would have been satisfied with leaving her a new pair of traveling boots and a coinpurse of gold to fully repay his “debt”.

Then he noticed she was following him.

Now that was quite different. 

He even took some rather sudden turns and yet she never strayed far from him.  

No matter though. If she just so happened to be going on the same path as him, who was he to stop her? Besides, having another companion after so long would be fun as well–no, she's loud...–even if Ko didn't like her at first. 

As such, when next he sat, he invited Mira over to his table within the city’s park, itself a leftover from the defeat of a long dead Demon Lord. She went stiff at that moment, then walked out from the shrubbery she had been using for cover with the bearing of one embodying grace–ratty, weird–and dignity. And so, they talked some more.

It appeared as if she had been traveling by herself for some time before they had met, and as someone with Hans’ nature that simply wouldn't do. First things first: making sure she was properly clothed instead of the rags she had. Of course, she wouldn't allow him to buy clothes for her, but if he just so happened to walk into a tailor's shop and spent enough time there that she started looking at some clothes–plus some sly handing over of some coin for a worker to go over and help her out–then soon enough, she had new clothing. 

Though it did take a bit of trial and error since she didn't seem to care for the dresses first offered, and insisted she changed clothes by herself, without the attendant’s aid. 

She really did seem to want to be self-sufficient, and did take great care in keeping track of her things; she even noticed when he attempted to slip in some more coins in her bag due to her habit of constantly counting them whenever they rested. But if he had her act as an assistant of sorts, well, getting paid was only natural. 

Though, she wouldn't be that for long.

Neroh 9th, 2998

He hadn't known her for long, but Mira had become quite the fixture in his life. She even proved to actually be quite the helpful assistant once he gave her the chance. However, what he found most astounding was how eagerly she seemed to soak in knowledge of the arcane. So, today would mark the day he took on his own apprentice; provided she agreed to being his apprentice, that is. 

However, two things happened first; the first being him being interrupted before he could ask by an annoying person by the name of Count Gideon Montgomery Opalcreek. A rather unsavory vampiric noble who frequently demanded his fealty. Frequently, because Hans had no intention of joining the pompous count’s retinue, regardless of what he offered. 

Certainly, Opalcreek had a reputation for being an arcanist and researcher of the infernal–hence the iratan bodyguard he had at his side and his interest in Hans–but he also had a reputation for being an eccentric madman who had likely breached numerous ethical standards in his pursuit of whatever. Hence Hans’s refusal.

“Why must you reject my sincere offers? Haven't I been more than generous?” A pompous, platinum-blonde man dressed in a white, pearl-lined coat and matching pants, along with a fuschia waistcoat and white ascot, Opalcreek spoke with an amused condescension, as though Hans was merely being silly for failing to accept his “generosity”. “Or perhaps there is something you wish for that I haven't offered?” 

“Not at all. I simply do not wish to be in the service of anyone at this point in mine life,” Hans replied with a smile of his own. Polite, though not especially genuine. 

In hindsight, it was easy to see how much his reply angered the noble, and yet, Hans wouldn't realize his mistake until it was too late. 

The count’s white face barely moved, his pale lips still curled in that same, false smile. “You honestly can't expect me to accept an answer like th-”

“Hey! He already told you no, so just fuck off!” Mira snapped, glaring up at the noble in a moment of obvious frustration 

The second thing he failed to expect to happen was Mira so readily leaping to his defense. Opalcreek had been pestering him, certainly, and he did interrupt the special lunch Hans had planned, but still, he didn’t think she would speak up so vehemently. It made him smile in the moment, so he didn’t even think to reprimand her.

“...”

“What? You got noth-” For the rest of his life, Hans would curse himself for not acting sooner. Mira, who had pushed herself to her feet in that moment of fury, fell straight to the ground, clutching the ruin that was once her shoulder as she cried out in pure pain, a heartrending shriek echoing out as Opalcreek tossed away the torn arm he held so casually.

“Now then, with that ann-” To this day, Hans had no idea what Ko did to the bastard, but in the next moment, Opalcreek was gone, and Hans’s arm was settling back into place as he knelt by Mira’s side, whispering assurances and knitting her flesh together with a push of magic. Something to stop the bleeding, though gods knew it would only make things worse later on.

There was another noise, a faint roar of rage as the crimson-armored devil finally spurred into action, and, in an instant–protect–Hans had a pulsing, fiery gem clutched in his hand. 

“Thank you for your contribution, I will make good use of you,” he muttered to it, his mind already racing as he stood with Mira in his arms, hurrying from the restaurant with only the slightest glance toward the coughing, gagging vampire writhing on the ground, trying to pull the shattered remains of restaurant wall from his punctured torso. 

Shame the wood missed his heart. Hans would’ve liked a confirmation on that old legend.

Life had a proclivity for cruel consequences though, and while Hans would have liked to keep Mira safe in a hospital for her recovery, apparently there were consequences to “assaulting a count”. And no, it did not help Hans’s case that the count assaulted his student first. Really, it just showed his “motive” to whatever court decided to put that bounty out on him.

Not that Hans ever bothered to defend himself in a court. He had no expectations of justice there–wealth and nobility tended to get its way, and Opalcreek had scores of both–so staying at a friend’s place sounded like a far better idea. Particularly when that friend was set up in the Swamplands, quite far from any Inrapaban jurisdiction.

Neroh 21st, 2998

“Must you take up an entire desk?” Eliza groused as she walked back into her–well, perhaps “their” would be more appropriate at this juncture?–starry-ceilinged office, “And no, it’s not yours. You didn’t pay for any of this, and you’re mooching off of me.”

Very well, still her office–with, as stated previously, a rather beautiful ceiling that mimicked a starry sky and a number of other such lovely, celestial artworks along its walls–then. “I do recall you owe me far more than I owe you, Lizzy-Ah, no stabbing, Ko might hit back.”

“Would.” Oh, an actual vocalization. That was rare. Ko tended to have Hans speak for her. Or just played music to set the mood instead of speaking. He certainly did enjoy that trait of hers; it added to the atmosphere when he traveled.

“Hmph.” Eliza lowered her foreleg back to the floor. “What are you busy with anyhow?”

“Arm ideas.”

She blinked, then leaned over his shoulder at the rough sketches he’d made. “Hm. Why can’t you simply do the same thing you did with your…’Ko’, but for this Mira girl?”

“Mine trade with Ko was an informed decision I made as an adult. Mira is barely fourteen. I am well aware of her capabilities as an elemental mage. The demonic arts, however, are a field requiring many years of study, and I intend on repairing mine mistake as soon as possible.”

“It wasn’t your mistake. Put the blame where it belongs.”

He gave her a frown. “Where would that be?”

She raised a set of eyebrows in reply. “With the Count you decided to throw through a wall, making both yourself and your little student fugitives.”

“True!” Hans brightened and grinned. “I really should have killed him when I had mine chance!”

“You should have, yes, though I imagine word still would have spread of your transgression.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not, though-” Hans paused and glanced over at the black oak door as someone knocked.

“Well?” Hm? Eliza was staring at him-

“I am sitting. You are standing. You are also closer.”

Eliza frowned, then glanced back at the door with her upper eyes. The lower were reserved for glaring at him, as usual. “It’s open.”

And the door creaked open as Mira peeked in, her eyes still somewhat sunken and the empty left sleeve of her jacket–which she was wearing over a black dress Eliza had bought for her–pinned up against its shoulder. “You two arguing again?”

“What? Of course not. What do you want, child?” Eliza demanded.

“Hello Mira. Do you need anything?” Hans asked.

Mira shrugged–she winced there at the gesture, maybe still some pain… “There’s a lady asking for you, Lady Tealmarn.”

“Ugh, fantastic...what kind of lady? Swampfolk? Anuran? Incubus?”

“Uh, no-Wait, Incubus?”

“A type of Luxurian demon, embodying and characterized by sexual dominance, in contrast to succubi and in comparison to concubi,” Hans elaborated.

“There’s a bloody coven of the harlots living out in the swamps by Smaltrist,” Eliza added, scowling, “Preaching about the inevitable return of their grand ‘Lust Lord’, always knocking on doors and offering pamphlets.” She hissed the word as though it was a grievous insult.

“...Y-Yeah, um...no? It’s a human lady. Sorta pretty? Um, tall, and brown-skinned.”

“Oh, Valondrac then.” Hm? Well that was an unusually positive reaction. Eliza was actually smiling. As for that name…

“Would that be the ‘Arch-Countess’?” Hans asked with a glance towards Eliza. He’d heard rumors, certainly, of a quite ambitious–lord-like–Countess rising up in Blekhon and making a number of moves to expand her influence outward. Alliances, other nobles swearing fealty, activities in Olafiba, Brunzaba, Skiritaba...

“The very same, though the proper title here, as she so uses, is Marquess. One few have used in recent centuries, but a valid one.” Eliza was smirking now; likely enjoying having information that Hans did not. She could be quite amusingly petty at times.

“Huh. Fascinating...And how would you know her?”

“How wouldn’t I? You realize she moves in quite similar circles. More so than the average ‘count’ as well, as she actually deigns to speak to those of a far more productive mindset than those useless old bats hoarding their wealth and scurrying into the dark the second any danger appears.”

...Hans decided he really shouldn’t comment on the nobility of the Dark Lands and their tendency to “scurry” whenever a new Demon Lord declared themself. Particularly since the more arachnoid nobility weren’t exactly ones to fight against rising powers. More likely to join them, really. “So you’ve met her directly?”

“Of course I have, I mentioned her by name and knew precisely what she looked like. Inference is a skill you sorely need to learn, Hans.”

“Ah yes, mine apologies.” He smiled and stood. “Shall we go meet with your new friend then?”

“She’s not a friend, she’s an acquaintance, it takes a great deal more than being a person of interest to me to garner my friendship. Now, come along, old friend.” Hans blinked. Well, that was a very rare display of affection- “That means now.” And she was already leaving, very well then.

So Eliza led Hans and Mira to her parlor, where the most fascinating person Hans had ever met was reclining in one of the large, plush cushions Lizzy had in place of actual furniture. Granted, “actual” furniture was not made for an individual with the lower half of an arachnid, so her choice in furniture was apt for her needs. 

Oh, and there was a second, also rather interesting person there; a blonde, orcish woman, who was outright lying on top of another cushion, her hands folded on her belly as she audibly snored, likely fast asleep and earning a poorly hidden giggle from Mira.

"My apologies for my companion, she insisted on taking full watch last night, and fell asleep as soon as she laid down," the other woman explained. She was dark-skinned, black-haired, and yellow-eyed, clad in black robes lined with red, her hands gloved in matching colors. Furthermore, she appeared...mostly human.  Her ears had points, that much was clear, so perhaps an elvish or cambionic ancestry?

“You need not apologize, Marquess Valondrac. My cushions are indisputably comfortable.” An odd thing to brag about, but Eliza was nothing if not proud of her...accomplishments?

“They really are,” Mira agreed, promptly going to the nearest one and flopping into it, earning a frown from Eliza.

“That was not permission.” Mira didn’t move. After a second, Liza sighed and just sat on a cushion of her own, her legs curling into the plush as she made herself comfortable. “My apologies, Marquess. My friend’s apprentice is young and ridiculous.”

“Hkh yh tuh.”

Valondrac’s lips twitched, then she shrugged, smiling. “It’s no problem. Oh, though, weird thing, apparently it’s supposed to be ‘Marchioness’. Feminine version or something.”

“...What? But Marquess already sounds feminine.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Jonathan has books about the subject and they don’t explain anything. Apparently an old alternative was marquisess, but everyone agreed that sounded stupid and tried to change it.”

“...” Eliza sighed. “Is this a vampire thing? It’s a vampire thing, isn’t it.”

Valondrac shrugged. “Possibly. The lightlanders supposedly used to have titles like Landgrave and Margrave before transferring to their current Baron-Earl-Duke system, so perhaps we stole it?” Hm. That may be something to research–boring, bad idea–Ah, definitely something to research then–noooo…

“Ugh. So many damn titles. Why not just use Lord, or Lady? Or president.”

“Well they’re not merchant guilds, so-Ah, wait, sorry to interrupt, but I actually do have a point to being here today.”

“Ah, of course you do, no one ever just wants to talk. What is it?”

“It’s not a request for you, Lady Tealmarn, unless you’ve rethought my offer?”

Eliza paused, then sighed and rolled her eyes. It was quite the sight, all of them turning at once. “No. I already did the ‘demon general’ thing once, I’m not interested in trying again.”

“That’s still a shame, but I appreciate your candor.” Then Valondrac turned her gaze towards Hans–Ah, so that’s where this was going. “Professor Samore, it’s nice to meet you.”

He smiled politely, largely because she actually bothered to use his title. “It is nice to meet you too, Marchioness Valondrac. However, I am not interested in becoming your general either.”

She pouted. “You could at least hear out my offer first.”

Hans shrugged, then climbed onto and sat cross-legged on the cushion across from Valondrac. “I could. I doubt you will say anything I have not heard from other aspiring Demon Lords. Your current title is a curiosity though.”

“I have three Ouzan patrons.” What. what.

“...Pardon?”

“If you want, you are in trouble with Count Opalcreek, after all.”

Hans blinked at the non-sequitur. “...I...Mine apologies, but I don’t understand.”

“I have the ability to pardon you, if you so desire. Count Opalcreek, the spineless psychopath, pledged his loyalty to me when I made it clear I wouldn’t be content with the bats scurrying into their hidden caves while I seized power.”

She grinned. “He wronged you and yours. Would you like to be there when I make him pay for it?”

“...” Almost involuntarily, Hans felt his eyes go to Mira, who had turned and was staring at Valondrac now.

“...” Mira glanced at him, a question in her eyes, and Hans...gave her a slight nod. “...You’re that asshole’s boss?”

“I’m his superior, yes. I’m sorry he hurt you.” Valondrac suddenly stood from her cushion, and...and bowed. She bowed to Mira. A noblewoman, higher in rank than a vampiric count, apparently to the point that the undead beings that ruled Inrapaba swore

fealty

to her, who had the audacious claim to have

three

Ouzan patrons, actually was bowing to a thirteen-year-old girl scarcely higher than a commoner. That...didn’t happen. “He will suffer for it. You have my solemn oath on that matter.”

“...A-Ah...th-thanks?” Mira was blushing. That...huh.

“No problem!” And then Valondrac straightened, a grin on her face as she looked to Hans again. “So, my offer is simple. I’m not a Demon Lord yet, but I fully intend to be, as is obvious. To facilitate my actual success instead of going the way of some idiot warlord, I’m going to be conquering the entire Dark Land continent. I would like your help with that, in exchange for pay, legal protections, and access to whatever demonic lore you need for your studies, Professor Samore.”

“...” That...well...what? “...Why?”

It was in her smile, then and there, that Hans found true conviction. “Because I am going to rule the world.”

“...” She’s crazy.

She was. She most certainly was. But...But? There was certainly something about it. Something that made him almost believe her. Dumb. Be skeptic. Think. Right. 

Right, that was necessary. “I admit mine interest, Marchioness. However, could you prove the truth of your claim? A showing that you are, indeed, the power you profess to be?”

“Of course! Ah, Lady Tealmarn, may I use your floor?” 

“No, you may not. We have a room for spellcasting that doesn’t have a nice carpet.”

“Aw, but it will only take a second! Please? Wouldn’t you rather get it out of the way now instead of having to move around?”

“No, of course not, and there is nothing you can say that would convince me.”

And with a two hundred platinum “donation” to the Conservatory, Valondrac proved Eliza a liar. And then she proved Hans a fool because mother of all devils, she summoned the daughter of Rot right into Eliza’s parlor room.

“Hey Labatu! Thanks for coming so quickly!”

“Ah, no worries Claire. And thank you for hosting me, Lady Tealmarn.” The easily 8ft tall demoness bowed politely to Eliza, her white leather-gloved hands placed over the lap of her long, white skirt. She looked a great deal like some type of hunter, with a hooded white coat strapped with bandoliers of knives, similar sheathes at her waist, and a white, long-beaked bird mask covering her face. Her very presence was making Hans feel like he had to cough, and Ko was shrinking back in his mind from the pressure she exuded. That, and the singularly unpleasant reek of burnt wax emanating from her body.

Put simply...it was one of the most impressive displays of strength Hans had ever witnessed. And it made him want to be better, to work again and get closer to attaining that level of absolute power-

“Now, do you have any suggestions for who I should bring in for Marrow and Drought? Do you have any cousins?” Eh?

“Hmm...No, not that I recall, though Mother does tend to keep things from me...I suppose Auberich would be around my level?” ...the Blood King? What?

“Oh, that’ll work! Thanks Labby!” Wait, what, why was their already a runic circle forming, was she actually-

“Ah, Marchioness!” Hans tried to grin as he stepped in front of her, his arms outstretched as though he’d somehow block her from bringing one of the most powerful demons in the 7th Circle into Estus. “Your display was sufficient to convince me! I thank you for such a showing, and would like to request that you do not summon a demon quite literally known as The Painbringer.”

“Oh, alright.” She let her hand drop, then frowned. “Is that really what he’s called? That’s a terrible name.”

“...Well, he brings pain, Marchioness. So I believe most demons consider it apt.”

“Sure, but what does ‘bring pain’ really mean? It’s not a solid thing you can carry. ‘Paincauser’ would be more accurate.”

“...” Hans glanced at Eliza, who just smirked back at him. “...I suppose that is more accurate, yes. Nevertheless.” He placed his mortal hand over his heart, then kneeled to his new liege. “I pledge my loyalty to you, Marchioness Valondrac. You have proven...fascinating, and I endeavor to aid you in your goals.” Then he raised his eyes. “I would ask though, that you do allow me to finish Mira’s apprenticeship first. Mine responsibilities lie with her, foremost.” 

“Certainly. Though I do hope you two come to visit soon.” Her grin widened into something deeply malicious. “I would like you to see when I strip Opalcreek of every title and land he once held.”

“I would enjoy that, mine lady.” And, in a moment of rather ugly satisfaction, Hans was quite certain he meant every word.

And, as for Ko...She felt a strange stirring in her muted mind. Was she...happy? Odd. Very odd.

But as her partner kneeled before his future Empress, a mouth formed and spread into a wide, giddy smile beneath the eye on his shoulder. “Make it painful.”

And the empress answered her too as the onlookers gawked and her partner chuckled. “Of course I will.”

Heh. What a lovely world to live in~.

Sindh Class 10 English Notes Mcqs, question, answer, Translate, application, essay

Sindh Class 10 English Notes Mcqs, question, answer, Translate, application, and, essay.

Class 10 English Notes Mcqs

Section A-(MCQs) i) Select the correct present indefinite tense: Aslam was singing a song A. Aslam is singing a song.             B. Aslam sang a song. C. Aslam sings a song.                   D. Aslam can sing a song. Answer:     C. Aslam sings a song ii) Choose the correct interrogative form: The sweeper swept my room. A. Do the sweeper sweep my room?                   B. Did the sweeper sweep my room? C. Is the sweeper sweeping my room?               D. Does the sweeper sweep my room? Answer:    B. Did the sweeper sweep my room? iii) Select the correct negative form:                                                            I have been living here since 1960. A. I have not been living here since 1960.                   B. I have not living here since 1960.                             C. I did not have been living here since 1960. D. I do not have been living here since 1960. Answer: A. I have not been living here since 1960.       iv) Select the correct assertive form:                                                             (Mark 1) We did not go to Murree last summer. A. We go to Murree last summer. B. We have gone to Murree last summer. C. We went to Murree last summer. D. We had gone to Murree last summer. Answer:    C. We went to Murree last summer. v) Choose the correct passive voice:                                                               (Mark 1) I will invite them. A. They are invited by me.                       B. They will be invited by me.       C. They would be invited by me.             D. They have been invited by me. Answer:     B. They will be invited by me.  vi) Select the correct active voice:                                                                   (Mark 1) Taxes are paid by us regularly. A. We pay taxes regularly.                       B. We paid taxes regularly. C. We should pay taxes regularly.           D. We paid taxes regularly. Answer:    A. We pay taxes regularly. vii) Choose the correct preposition:                                                               (Mark 1) Trust ----- God and hope for the best. A. to                 B. in               C. on           D. into Answer:     B. in viii) Choose the correct article:                                                                          Money cannot buy ----- happiness. A. the                   B. an                 C. a                 D. none of these Answer:    D. none of these ix) Select the correctly punctuated sentence:  Most festivals in Sindh as in the Punjab are of a religious nature A. Most festivals in Sindh as in the Punjab are of a religious nature. B. Most festivals in Sindh, as in the Punjab are of religious nature. C. Most festivals in Sindh as in the Punjab, are of religious nature. D. Most festivals, in Sindh as in the Punjab, are of a religious nature. Answer:    D. Most festivals, in Sindh as in the Punjab, are of a religious nature. x) Select the correct form of the verb:                                                            She ------ her homework regularly. A. did                   B. done                   C. does                       D. has done Answer:    C. does xi) Choose the correct word:                                                                               I did well among the people. In this line “I” is used for A. The poet               B. People                   C. God                 D. Angel Answer:    A. The poet xii) The poem “A Nation’s Strength” is written by:                                 A. Louis I. Newman                     B. Julia Carney             C. M. H Gates                             D. Ralph Waldo Emerson Answer:    D. Ralph Waldo Emerson xiii) Choose the correct meaning of the following idioms:  In black and white. A. in writing                   B.  verbally                   C. in colours                   D. property Answer:     A. in writing xiv) Select the correct direct narration:  They said that they did not like meat. A. They said, “We did not like meat.” B. They said, “We have not liked meat.”             C. They said, “We do not like meat.”                   D. They said, “They do not like meat.” Answer:    C. They said, “We do not like meat.”  xv) Select the indirect narration:                                                                      He said to me, “Please lend me your book.” A. He asked me to lend him my book. B. He asked me that I lend him my book. C. He ordered me to lend him my book. D. He requested me to lend him my book. Answer:    D. He requested me to lend him my book. Q.2 a) i. What did the rich man do in the court after the settlement of the case? Answer: The rich man was a kind and generous person that’s why after the settlement of the case in the court by the Caliph, he forgave the beggar and gave him a handful of gold coins to help him. Q.2 a) ii. How does the teacher fulfill God’s command? (Marks 3) Answer: A teacher fulfills God’s command by sharing his learning and experiences sincerely with his students. Teaching is a sacred profession of the prophets so it should be performed with great honesty and devotion. A teacher fulfills God’s command expressed in the first word of the revelation which says, “Read.” Q.2 a) iii. What did King Faisal do for the education of his people? King Faisal keenly focused on the education sector of his country thus a number of schools were opened where education is free for all. That’s not all; various universities were set up where apart from free education, awards and stipends were also granted to meet the growing needs of the students. Q.2 a) iv. What is tent pegging? (Marks 3) Answer: Tent-pegging is one of the famous sports people used to play at fairs and festivals. In it, wooden pegs are fixed in the ground and the riders have to pull them out with their lances as they ride by at a gallop. Q.2 a) v. Why do the bush dwellers of Nigeria use wood at night? (Marks 3) Answer: Being an underdeveloped country, Nigeria still has no facility of electricity especially in the remote and far-flung villages of the country that’s why the bush dwellers use wood at night for lighting and heating purposes. Q.2 a) vi. What did mother ask the children to do when they had reached back home? (Marks 3) Answer: The mother asked the children to get busy as they had spent a number of hours out shopping. She asked Ajmal to polish his and Najma’s shoes and told Najma to iron the clothes. Q.2 a) vii. Why did Azam give up cheating Moazzam? (Marks 3) Answer: Azam gave up cheating his younger brother as Moazzam started teasing him in various ways. When Azam was milking the cow, he started hitting the cow at the front part as it was his possession, in order to disturb her. Secondly, when Azam was busy picking fruit from the tree, Moazzam started cutting the tree with his axe. Thirdly, Moazzam soaked the blanket in water when it was time for Azam to use it at night. After bearing all of this, Azam thought that he had badly treated his younger brother by giving him unequal share in their father’s property. So, Azam decided to give Moazzam his due share by getting the milk and dates and sharing the blanket at night time. Q.2 a) viii. Where is Torkham? What did the students see there? (Marks 3) Answer: Torkham is the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. The students saw a chain stretched across the road and the Pakistan flag, swaying at a hilltop. Q.2 a) ix. What does the kit for mending the puncture contain? (Marks 3) Answer: The best kit for mending the puncture must contain a wrench, a piece of old cycle tube, a pair of small scissors, sandpaper, a colour pencil, and sticking solution. Q.2 a) x. What is an urs and how it is celebrated? (Marks 3) Answer: Urs is basically a religious festival that is celebrated in most regions of Punjab and Sindh. It is celebrated by the devotees of famous saints, Sufis, and poets such as Hazrat Shahbaz Qalandar and Shah Abdul Latif Bhitai. People want to show their respect, love, and reverence through Urs which they hold for these special people who devoted their lives for the welfare and betterment of the masses, and for the spread of Islam. People sing folk songs at Urs in the memory of great Sufis and saints. Q.2 b) i. Who wrote the poem “From a Railway Carriage”? What pleasure does the railway journey give to the poet? (Marks 3) Answer: As the poet is traveling in a railway carriage so it is the railway journey that becomes a true source of pleasure for the poet. He is quite pleased to see the exceptional beauty of the natural world throughout his railway journey. Q.2 b) ii. What is the main idea of the poem “A Nation’s Strength”? (Marks 3) Answer: The poem “A nation’s strength” gives a clear message to its readers that a nation can never stand on firm ground without the sincere efforts of its people. For the solid foundation of a progressive nation; courage, determination, integrity, great thought, patience, and hard work is a must. A nation can never be strong based on its wealth alone, but with the devotion and passion of its people it can stand out in the world. The nation’s pillars can only be built deep and rise to the sky due to the daring, courageous, and determined acts of its people. Hence, all of a nation’s strength, progress, and development rest on the shoulders of its people’s sincerity and affection towards their motherland. Q.2 b) iii. Why does the poet say that the prayer for mothers on the earth mingles with the said in heaven? (Marks 3) Answer: The poet says that the prayer for mothers on earth mingles with that said in Heaven as it is the same prayer that angels are busy in saying up above the sky. It is a ritual for almost every mother to start her dua with her asking for her children’s welfare, betterment, health, and success. In turn, it is the duty of all children to pray for their mothers. If we pray for our mothers with utmost sincerity and honesty, there is a possibility that God may forgive all the sins or wrongs done by our mothers intentionally or unintentionally in this world. Q.2 b) iv. Which poem Eliza Cook wrote? What does she teach the reader through this poem? (Marks 3) Answer: Eliza Cook wrote the poem “King Bruce and the Spider.” Through this poem, she gives a very strong message to her readers that one should never lose hope and whatever the circumstances, he/she should behave courageously. The one who keeps trying to reach his/her goal by hard work, Allah Almighty will help him/her and grant success sooner or later. Q.2 b) v. What does the line, “These hands must folded be”, mean? (Marks 3) Answer: In this line, the poetess means by “these hands must folded be” that her mother has reached quite an old age and she must die soon. It is this thought that makes the poetess sad and gloomy imagining her mother lying in her grave beneath the ground with daisies above with her beautiful wrinkled hands that must be folded on her chest serenely. Q.3) Write an essay of about 120 - 150 words on any one of the following topics: i) Need and importance of Muslim Unity Answer:                                              Need and Importance of Muslim Unity Since the 9/11 attacks, Muslims have been targeted with hate crimes, often held responsible for heinous acts of violence carried out by others in the name of Islam. Ever since the fall of the twin towers, Muslims have had their reputation maligned in the news everytime a bomber has been identified as belonging to the same religion. Now, more than ever, there is a need for the Muslim community to band together, to understand what is happening inside of it in order to address genuine internal problems and to put together a strong front against those who seek to paint us all with the same, unforgiving brush. First of all, we must have a conversation with our fellow Muslims and build a stronger sense of community in order to understand cause s for radicalization within us. We need to know what the youth is going through, in particular, in order to make it clear that we really are a religion of peace. Unity can hence let us have important conversations about our shared values and strengthen our sense of identity as Muslims. The result of this is that once we are clear in ourselves about what we do and do not stand for, we can talk to those outside of our faith about what our values are, how we are different from those who commit violent acts, and how we will not tolerate hate crimes or racism against us. Muslim leadership has a very important role to play, given how many leaders have failed to make a positive difference for their communities in the past. From the civil war in Syria, to the bloodshed in Yemen by the Saudis, there is too much in-fighting among Muslim leadership. This causes enmity and mistrust among people, making us out to be confused and violent in front of the whole world. We must care for another if we are to truly make a difference in the lives of our fellow Muslims all over the world.  Just because someone is Iraqi or Palestinian does not make them any less Muslim than us. We must strive to have peace within the Muslim world, have a conversation on what our values are, and stand up against the parasite that is extremism, which is entering our ranks and giving us all a bad name. Once we have done this, can we stand up for ourselves in front of the whole world, knowing who we are, feeling pride in our belonging to the Muslim community. ii) The Role of Electronic Media Answer:                                                 The Role of Electronic Media The world we are living in is called a ‘digitized modern world’ due to a number of scientific inventions and discoveries. Among all, media comes out on top for the vital role it plays in our lives. Not only is electronic media used for the purpose of gaining knowledge, but it is also a captivating source of entertainment. Electronic is continually shaping our thoughts and perspectives. It is no surprise that advertisers flock to it to deliver their message to the world. Electronic media includes radio, television, computers, and of course, the Internet. Various forms of e-media are used by people of all ages. TV has revolutionized the way in which we get news, through the plethora of national and international channels keeping us informed on the latest updates, 24/7. Without having to leave the comfort of their homes, people can get cheap and easy entertainment. No one needs to go to a cinema or theatre unless they really want to, now. The internet, in particular, is hugely important for students. With all the learning resources it offers, the internet is a great way to learn things, practice skills, take online course, and more. In addition, internet-based social media like Skype, Twitter, Facebook etc. are fundamentally shifting the ways in which we interact with one another, as well with changes in the world. Anyone can get their opinion out in the world, and be a citizen-journalist of sorts, with the vast opportunities for connection now available. The world has now become a global village where distance does not mean the end of a conversation or friendship. Of course, while electronic media is playing a positive and constructive role in the lives of millions, it is, at the same time, used by some in rather destructive ways. The honus to monitor ourselves and seek out help when we need it falls on us so that we do not find ourselves under the total control of what these latest technologies have to offer. iii) Patriotism Answer:                                                              Patriotism A man is ruled by a number of emotions, feelings, thoughts and ideas. Feelings of love, attachment, and caring for one’s birth nation fall under ‘patriotism.’ Patriotism is simply a sense of deep loyalty and commitment to one's country. Healthy patriotism means to show the utmost love and respect towards one’s nation and to do everything in our power to make our country prosper. Of course, this means looking out for our people and striving to make all our lives better. However, patriotism does not mean blind support of your country, even when it is doing the wrong thing; instead, it entails being so loyal to your country's welfare that you are willing to stand up against injustice and fight for what is right. There are many ways in which we can express our patriotism. For instance, we may attend a sports game where our national team is playing and cheer them on. We may work hard to improve some area of life for our people (e.g., by working in health or education). We can express patriotism by keeping our country clean, educating ourselves on our history as a nation (and a people), in order to better understand the problems we face and be positioned to solve them. As patriots, we must play our part in supporting our democracy. This may mean always going to vote, staying politically involved, or raising critical issues that need to be heard by those in power. Patriots are able to keep their representatives accountable by staying engaged as citizens. As students, we can be patriotic by working hard at school and deciding how we want to contribute to the world. By polishing our skills, we can make sure that we are able to make a real contribution not only to our own lives but to the lives of our fellow citizens. Patriotism can give us a sense of identity and strength. Knowing our roots, and being committed to making our home better, are both things that can offer deep fulfillment. We must strive to make a positive difference, as citizens, and as patriots. iv) An Evening at the Seaside  Answer:                                                 An Evening at the Seaside It was a pleasant day in March when my aunt and her family knocked at our door. We were all quite surprised and happy to see them there. My aunt had come from Islamabad after her children's final examinations. Her family and she were only to be with us for a week, so, after serving lunch, we decided to take them all out to the seaside; the most demanded picnic spot among all our cousins. We reached there at about 5 o'clock. Read the full article

Floating Downtown - Part 3

Title: Sex and Alcohol

Description: Sammy its time to face your coulrophobia with Pennywise! With a string of disappearances occurring in Maine, the Winchester Brothers and the reader, a vivid Stephen King fan, try to stop the monster that snatches children and kills them every 27 years. But what will happen when the circus comes to town?

Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester, Reader, Demons

A/N: Reader is speech impaired after being tortured by Abaddon’s right hand man and having her vocal cords destroyed. Ive never written mute characters, so this is a first. If anyone has feedback, please give some!

Warnings: brief PTSD of rape, gorey description, angst, smut!, brief spider thingy

tagging: @totallyluckycoffee / @dixonlover1605 , @wonderavian

READ PART ONE AND TWO HERE!

Once you got back to the motel, Sam left to get some food whilst you searched your way through lore. He was still fuming at the audacity and disrespect Tom Rogan had towards you. After you persuaded him to relax, he roughly pulled the impala to the driveway and said annoyed he was getting food and stormed off.

Usually it would take a normal person twenty minutes to get two burgers, two fries, a side of salad and two drinks. But Sam had been gone an hour. And you were scared. You wanted to call him, but you couldn't...talk. Skype was your best friend when Sam wasn't there to translate for you. But you had tried that too. Sam wasn't responding to your video calls, calls or texts. You decided the only way to calm you down was to lay down, listen to music. And that's what you did. Kicking off your heels, stripping away your jacket, you fell into the double bed. You turned your body and faced the bedside table. Smiling, you take the Stephen King book and look at where you bookmarked the page. Laughing to yourself, you think about how Beverly was so badass, how funny Richie was, how Pennywise was taken down by...Then you frowned. You looked at the book, the gut feeling suddenly concluding your assumptions.

The answer was right in front of you this entire time! Stephen King was your fucking clue this entire time!

You jump at excitement and run to the phone texting Sam, following your other five messages, telling him you've figured it out. However he wouldn't be so happy. You plunked the old and battered copy on the table and started to write in your trusty journal notepad, that resembled John Winchester's. You wrote the following down, from having read the book 4 times....and googling extra videos....and articles...It was your favourite! You were too curious into finding out the Turtle/Pennywise conflict it still baffles you. The notes you took were;

•Pennywise shifts into your fears, in order for you to be "well seasoned" before you're dinner •he's something not from this dimension •Pennywise likes to eat children- Exhibit A; Georgie had his arm ripped off and then eaten in the book •Tim Curry did great in the mini series •He haunts children when their adults to make them go insane and eventually kill themselves- Exhibit B; STANLEY URIS

You could help but make your notes colourful and Stanley Uris in a blood dripping font. True dedication to your occult obsession with Stephen King's psycho clown TM.

•Pennywise can make you see your worst memories and make your nightmares real- Exhibit C; Beverly's abusive father. •was killed by silver rocks = SHAPESHIFTER

The door opened and Sam walked through. You walked to him with a pissed look. "What?" He asked, walking over as he placed the multiple bags on the table.

"Where have you been?! I've been calling and texting you for about an hour!" You sign aggressively. Sam tilts his head.

"I've been out for half an hour, (Y/N)." You turned to a clock and he was right. He looked at his phone. "It was on silent, (Y/N), I didn't notice." He smiles a little and walks to you. "Are you okay?" You sigh and nod.

"Just tired. BUT!" You sign, walking to the table and handing him your notes and your battered copy. Sam reading through the notes and holding the book. He smiles and looks to you. He cups your cheeks gently and crashes his lips to yours.

"You're a bloody genius, (Y/N)" He smiles widely as you smile back and hug him, then kissing him again. He kisses back and it's everything you've ever fantasised. His lips were soft and his passionate movements made you want him more. His tongue started to trace you lips, your mouth opening and letting both your tongues dance. He grips your waist gently holding you up. Your hands had raked themselves into his hair, your fine fingers intertwining with the surprisingly soft strands. He slides his hands around to your thighs carrying you in his arms. He pulls away from the passionate and needy kiss and looks at you.

"Woah, that's uhm. Amazing." He smiles a little. "I hope I'm not pushing you, (Y/N)." His face falls into one of concern. A classic Sam Winchester move. You shake your head and smile hesitantly taking your hands away. Sam made sure you wouldn't fall back as you signed.

"I love you Sam." He smiles and kisses your jaw, as he walks to the bed and gently lays you down.

"(Y/N) are you sure you wanna do this? I don't wanna hurt you." You looked at him with annoyance and nodded, him laughing in response. He kisses your stomach and starts to unbutton your flannel shirt as you did to him, rubbing and gripping his back as you continued to kiss after stripping off each other's shirts. He pulls you up and sits you on his lap as he starts to kiss your chest, nipping the skin as he caught the skin inbetween his lips. He strips off your bra and throws it to the side, massaging your breasts and taking your nipple into his mouth, repeating the same actions he did on your chest.

Whilst doing this, you drag your nails down his back, gripping his shoulders and tugging on his hair. Your nails, blunt sharp, left red welts in their wake, him moaning. He lays you down, pulling down your shorts. You watch his movements as he slides your panties off and kisses your waistline, his eyes never leaving yours. He then dips his head down and hen proceeds to lick a broad stripe over the lips of your pussy, circling the muscle around your clit when he got the chance. Your breath hitches and you grip the sheets as his tongue started to move quickly yet lovingly across your lips, clit and pussy, occasionally biting or sucking. The sensations and unbelievable feeling of Samuel Winchester; his hands roaming your body, lips catching your skin and gentle yet needy motions made it all seem like some fantasy. And then he decided to insert two of his long, calloused fingers into your dripping core. You gasp a little and try to whimper. He starts to move them at a slow pace.

"GET OFF ME!" You yell as you try to force them off. These demons weren't having it. After another torture session into your fourth day of kidnapping, Abaddon's shifter-demons cosplaying as Sam and Dean decided to get a little handsy. "Sam" stood in front of you, the newfound devilish smirk playing on his face. "Dean" started to remove your somewhat clothing- a battered large shirt and torn jeans, of what used to be your flannel and singlet and tight jeans. You thrash and kick at them, but they're too strong. Once you were naked, "Dean" grabbed you from behind and started to attack your neck, his arm wrapped around your chest and one around your hip as his snakes his hands inbetween your legs, circling your clit and inserting his foreign fingers into your core. You scream and thrash, the fake Dean biting and sucking your neck as "Sam" caressed your body, the tent in his jeans poking your stomach. You growl and yell profanities. It wasn't long till they pushed you down onto the rusty metal table. "Sam", stroking and thrusting his length into his fisted hand, stood before you, as "Dean" began to eat you out from behind. You growl and look up at "Sam". He smirks grabbing your jaw.

"Open wide beautiful." He cooed, tracing your lips with the head of his dick. When you didn't comply, he forced your jaw open and thrusted his length in, suppressing your gag reflex and fucking your face. You growl and scream around his length. He moans and grips your head as he rolls his hips. You clamped your jaw down onto him, "Sam" screaming and pulling out as you smirk. "Dean" noticing, pulls you to his chest as "Sam" slapped you hard across the face. He then started to punch and hit you relentlessly. No one was gonna use you and walk scot free.

You cry out as the pressure building from within your stomach had burst from the unbelievable twists and knots. You look at him as he pulls away and licks his fingers clean. Your legs trembled and shook as he crawls up the bed, kissing your body. He starts to unbuckle his jeans and kicks it off, fiddling with the boxer waistband. When he hovered over you, you couldn't help but cup his cheek and drag it down his neck and chest. He smiles and kisses you gently as he slowly eases his way into your dripping core for sure stretching you wider than you ever had.

You open your mouth and breath out as you grip his shoulders as he moans. "Fuck (Y/N)..." He starts to roll his hips , his massive ass length dragging along you sweetspot. The symphony of low possessive growls and high, sweetened gasps filled the room as you tugged tightly the strands of Sam Winchester's hair. What started out as friendship had now turned into a needing, loving feeling to be with one another and hold close to death. And although you couldn't make a sound, your grips and digging of nails into his muscly toned and tanned skin make him aware.

This fantasy. Too good to be true. But hadn't you said that already? You both rut your hips and kiss the now sweat filled skin of both bodies. The almost desperate breaths and gasps from you had almost motivated him. The feeling of his length rubbing your sweet spot deliciously and girth of his friend had made you uncontrollably high.

Kissing your neck with burning need and desire, Sam growls as his thrusts became slow, and soon you felt him twitch. You had come, crashing hard the feeling of complete desire and spent hitting you hard the second time. At the wet and tight feeling Sam felt himself break as his hot release shot out in white streaks, coating the numb walls and stinging the paper cut like abrasions on your walls from the friction.

You pant and wince as Sam pulled out gently and kissed your neck and shoulder joint lovingly. Laughing a little from the ticklish feeling you play with his hair. Closing your eyes, his body warmth and cuddliness held you. But something didn't feel right. Since when was Sam's hair....spiky?

You open your eyes and soon enough they were wide with fear. A massive tarantula held you down its fangs dragging creepily along you chest and collar bone. You whimper and slowly move under. But it wouldn't let you. It had two legs forcefully pressing into your arms and two on your legs while the other four cradled your waist. You face away but you only expose your neck. It screeches loudly as it dives its head down and its fangs penetrating your ample body, skin and muscle tearing at the downward force, bones and organs tearing apart.

You sat up panting and gripping your chest were the bite had got you. Sweat and heat surrounded your body. You look to your side and see Sam laying beside you naked. At least one thing was true. You grab a shirt and jeans and walk out leaving a small note for Sam. You had a monster to take down, but right now- you needed a drink.

-•••-

The bar was filled with the usuals; the drunk truckies, the frat boys, the attention seekers, the wolf pack and let's not forget the occasional good boy. The bartender handed your trusty scotch and bourbon on the rocks and you downed the Hazel liquid letting your throat accompany the sensational burn. Oxymoronic isn't it? You decided to text Dean and explain your rather familiar find.

You- "hey Dean..." • 11:34pm 30/5/2014 D.W- "having fun in the motel, (Y/N)!" • 11:34pm 30/5/2014 You- "you bet! :P" • 11:35pm 30/5/2014 D.W- "anyway Princess what's up?" • 11:35pm 30/5/2014

For the next 10 minutes, you and Dean had explained the monster, discussed plans and even the one night stand that stood up to Dean because of his cat-calling. He then explained how he received the five finger Mark of the backslap. He joked about the fact that he has the mark of hell, heaven and Satan on him. Even you couldn't help but "laugh" at that.

"What you looking at beautiful?" An older, more deeper voice asked. You didn't have to look. He was a trucker, middle aged, obviously bloody drunk and God forbid, looking for a good lay. You try to ignore him, but he sits beside you, smiling his crowed smile cooing words and phrases.

"You're so beautiful." "A little bored honey?" "I know of a place where it's no longer boring." "Not much of a talker are you."

You kept quiet. But that's when things got way out of hand. He started to caress your arm, cooing again nicknames such as "beautiful" and "sexy" and "good lay". You push him off his chair with a single arm and everyone looks. He growls as he stands up and grips your wrists tightly, dragging you to your feet.

"Dad stop!" The bartender yelled as he was about to run to you.

"Shut up Eric! Sit down and be good!" The older man yelled. The bartender obliged but it wasn't soon before the older Winchester turned him around and punched him.

"You have some explaining to do."

Wolf’s Price

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IV. Witch God

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The summer in Saren is a mild season that washes the world in a thousand hues of green, and speckles it with flowers. Foxglove, lion’s tooth, aster, daisy, wild rose. The first of the berries were ripening as we passed through Wetasur, the estate of the Alfer family. I had written the letter in Sarenn, though as an officer of King Isaec’s army, Muras was not required to give notice to the hall’s whose hospitality he sought. I thought that a little courtesy might go a long way for smoothing over any ruffled feathers.

The new Lord Alfer had taken his title only a year before. He was hardly twenty, a young man named Barwald. I was pleased to find that he still wore his hair in the Sarenn style, with the braid beginning at his crown to indicate his status. Many men of influence had cut it short after the war, to better ingratiate themselves with the Kressosi and maintain their power.

“Commander,” the young Lord Barwald said graciously, his Kressosi speech methodical and practiced. “I trust your elk have been seen to.”

Muras acknowledged that they had, though he prayed for whoever was tasked with looking after the half-wild bull. There was some talk over accommodations, or some such. Nothing that I considered of interest enough to distract me from the first proper tapestry I had seen in seven years. The one in the main hall of Thralduslodge was massive, sixteen feet long and at least seven feet high. I walked along its length, taking in every stitch of color.

The center of the piece was a massive brown bear, stood on its hind legs. Around it there seemed to be scenes of a story, a warrior accompanied by Weta, the club-footed god, the Carrion-Maker. The warrior’s birth, weapons gifted to him by Weta, followed by a life full of battle, and his death, at the hands of Weta himself.

“My twice great-grandmother made that,” Lord Alfer said, stepping to my side. “It took her years to complete.”

“It’s been years since I’ve seen something so beautiful, My Lord,” I said. “Your family history?”

Lord Alfer nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. “The story of my ancestor, Alferi Bearskin.” He smiled slightly at me. “According to the story, he transformed into a bear in battle. A gift of Weta, in exchange for his tongue.”

“He was mute?” I asked.

Lord Alfer nodded. “So goes the story.” He looked at me a moment. “You’re Sarenn, then?”

I nodded. “From Arborhall.”

“I should like to visit there soon,” Lord Alfer said. “I consider Lord Anarin a friend.”

“The lord is in good health, I hope?” I asked.

Lord Alfer nodded. “Just welcomed his first son into the world, I believe. Orvas.”

What a terrible name. What kind of wife did he have that would give a child that name? “Orvas Anarin,” I murmured. “Hmm. Time will only tell what sort of lord he will make.”

“Yes,” Lord Alfer said, “with that Kressosi mother of his.”

He had turned away, and thus missed the way I looked at him, unable to hide my shock.

I felt off-balance, and suddenly nauseous. I stumbled out into the open air, and put my hands to my knees, trying to steady myself.

Of course. Of course; as I had found it necessary to ensure my survival through Kressosi men, Julas must have seen it advantageous to take a Kressosi wife, to show his commitment to peace, to the king he now owed his fealty to.

A Kressosi woman was raising the heirs to my family’s house.

This, too, was a punishment.

#

The stories say that Weta came to Saren with the elk, who wander as he does. Weta is a restless god, and though his right foot is twisted and he walks with a limp, Weta is ever a traveler. He delights in all that excites the heart: in feasts and drink, in dance and lust, in war, in madness. He seeks hidden things, forbidden things. Ever Weta is hungry, ever Weta reaches deeper.

Small wonder they call him both bloodbrother and adversary to the Wolf. Their relationship is a contentious one, they go from allies and friends to bitter enemies in the space of a heartbeat, like starving beasts over a carcass. There are a thousand stories about how they came to swear brotherhood to each other, each as true as the next.

Weta, feeder of vultures and ravens.

Weta, the bargainer, the sorcerer.

His gifts, too, come with a price—though they are often less predictable than the Wolf’s. Some are clear: the gift of Sight in exchange for one or both eyes, strength in exchange for a hand or foot. Then there are those less clear, as in the case of Alferi Bearskin: the ability to change forms, in exchange for a tongue.

Laying beside Muras that night, my belly full of elk meat and wild rice and last autumn’s cider, I thought a great deal of Weta. My father had not made many sacrifices to Weta that I could remember. What Weta dealt in had little to do with the life of a lord whose land was filled with sheep and goats, except on the occasion that Kressosi raiders crossed the Lor, and my father was willing to call on any god who might send them back. He had spoken of Weta most when he traveled.

Weta, god of the long road and the narrow forest path.

Weta taught us to write, they say, and they also say that it was Weta who taught witches their craft, when he stole the knowledge from Ima Spinna, Mother Spider, who weaves all truth into being. (It was the Hasi, who taught other Sarenn about Ima Spinna, and it was Ima Spinna who taught us to sew and weave and braid our hair.)

It was restlessness that roused me from bed. Neither Muras or Todd woke, so I was free to pull my riding skirts and a coat on, making my way down to the stables, not conscious of the fact that I was barefoot until I felt the straw under my feet.

Bili was awake and alert, as if he’d been expecting me. I put the bridle on him, but not the saddle, pulling myself over his back and taking myself out into Alferi’s hunting woods. I didn’t think it strange, at the time, that the stable doors were open and I encountered no one awake or asleep. Nor did I think it strange that I was not telling Bili where to go, but he walked with purpose.

It was perhaps half an hour before I noticed the shapes falling in alongside us. They were small, human-like, but hairier, with slumped shoulders and long faces, cow tails whipping behind them. Trolls, I realized, with surprise. They road on the backs of elk, or hung from the limbs of trees, their eyes glinted golden in the moonlight. There must have been dozens of them, following me through the forest.

Gradually, I realized they were chanting something.

Vulgafra, vulgafra, vulga- vulga- vulgafra!

It was hardly more than a whisper in the trees at first, and it had none of the poison of the man who had first called me that. It seemed almost… deferential.

Bili led us deeper into the forest, into huge old pines and cedars and thick tangles of brush that I could not imagine Alfer did much hunting in. The forest was too wild here.

The deeper we went, the louder the trolls’ chanting grew, until I was certain the very trees were shaking with it. My knuckles were white around Bili’s reins, but I trusted him to take me wherever we were bound. Even had I wanted to flee, the trolls were packed too tight around us now, with a herd of elk the size of which I had never seen.

The trolls only began to part as they filled a sudden clearing, spreading about it in a circle, leaving Bili and myself in the middle, in the grey dark, alone. There was cold sweat on my back, but I held my breath steady, searching the clearing for some indication of why I was here.

The trolls fell silent, and in the absence of their voices, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. My breath seemed painfully loud.

The figure that approached from the trees sat astride a huge bull elk, much older than Bili, his antlers somehow already losing their velvet, even though it was nowhere near the rut.It was only as the figure drew closer that I realized there was no velvet on the bull’s antlers at all—it was lichen, hanging in long chunks from the bare points, which were weathered and green.

The man who sat astride the bull—for I could see now he was a man—was older, though he had no beard. His hair was iron streaked with steel, and the braid he wore began at his forehead, marking him high as a king. It was long enough to be folded upon itself and tied to the nape of his neck in gold wire, with the middle section still hanging over his shoulder. Past his prime, but he carried himself the way a warrior did.

His face was lined with scars as much as age, and he greeted me with a smile that was as much a leer as anything else. “Vulgafra,” he said, “so good to finally meet you.”

When he turned so that his bull stood alongside Bili, facing the opposite direction, I saw that his feet were bare, and that the right one was twisted.

The clubfooted god.

I looked up and met his gaze. Weta’s eyes were as black as a raven’s, and twice as sly. “What do you want with me?”

Weta laughed, and it shook the forest. “Blunt. I see why they like you. He never did have a taste for dancing with words.” He waved a hand at me. “Come. Play a game with me.” He swung down from his bull’s back, and I followed suit. There was a tree stump I had not noticed before, worn smooth as a tabletop. From the pocket of his coat, Weta produced a deck of cards in a silver case, and sat cross-legged on one side of the stump, gesturing for me to sit across from him.

I watched him shuffling the cards, and thought of Todd complaining when the soldiers he spent the nights cavorting with emptied his pockets for him. I had little I was willing to risk in gambling with gods.

“You know how to play King’s Court, I hope?” Weta asked, his teeth gleaming like a snow lion’s. “A lady of such circumstance as yourself—it would be a bitter shame if you couldn’t play.”

“I know the game.” Best to keep my guard up, I thought. Best to keep my eyes open.

The trolls watched us in eerie silence from the trees, shadowy forms with sparkling eyes. Bili was in remarkably good behavior, standing next to Weta’s bull. Weta shuffled the cards, and spread them before us. “What are we gambling over?” I asked.

“Questions, of course,” Weta said. “For every round you win, you get to ask me any question you like. The same for me.”

“Must I answer truthfully?”

Weta’s grin spread too wide across his face. “Of course not. But if you lie, so shall I.”

“You could lie even if I did not,” I countered.

“True,” Weta said, “but she would be unhappy with me, and for the moment, I would prefer if we remained friends.” Weta leaned across to look me in the eyes. “He is not the only one who sees promise in you, Vulgafra.” His eyes seemed to absorb any light that fell upon them. “Do we have a deal?”

I looked down at the cards before me, and picked up my hand.

King’s Court is a complex game, one that requires a quick mind that can assess several possibilities at once. It’s a favored game of nobility in Sarenn and beyond, one which my father had only allowed me to learn because it kept me from tormenting my tutors for a few hours every day. In general, he disapproved of gambling, but my skill for it had, upon occasion, greased the wheels of a few trade deals, and so he frowned over it a little less.

I had played against my share of skilled opponents, but with Weta, I was careful.

“Tch, come now, Vulgafra,” he said, “wars are not won with shields alone.”

“And yet many lives are lost for lack of one,” I said. “Your move.”

The first round went to Weta. The trolls chanted his name three times, and again went silent. For a moment I saw not the old man but a young one, the kind who might be daring enough to steal from Ima Spinna. He was soon gone, the old battle-hardened man in his place once more. Weta put his elbows on the stump, leaning over the cards. “Who are you?”

I blinked. “My name—”

“Not your name,” Weta said. “Who are you?”

I gazed at him, pondering my answer. “I am a daughter of Anar,” I said, “I am a granddaughter of Liane, descended of wolves. I am the mother of the last son of Corasin Forset, and I am the witch who brought the Winter Wolf to Morhall.”

Weta grinned. “Some witch,” he said, “who knows nothing of that craft except the name of my bloodbrother.”

“It is what they call me,” I said.

“They call you wrong.” Weta put his hands flat on the stump. “You are no witch. You are something else.”

“Tell me what I am, then,” I said, annoyed, but Weta held up a finger.

“Ah, ah,” he said. “First, you must win.”

Again, I lost, again, the trolls chanted Weta’s name. It called to mind some saying, about how when you were gambling with a god, it was best not to bet anything you didn’t want to lose.

Weta flipped the king card between his fingers, the red face of the king flickering in and out of view. “What do you want, Vulgafra Anarsdaughter?”

I considered my answer, trying to guess what exactly it was he was asking. “I want Saren to be free,” I said at last.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to win another hand to ask me that,” I replied, and Weta laughed and shuffled the cards together.

This time, I was the one who threw the king card down, his solemn red face seeming almost to shine in the moonlight. The trolls chanted “Vulgafra!” three times, and I considered which question to ask. I could not be sure I would be able to ask all the questions I had, so I could not squander the opportunity. More, I had to ask it in a way that could not be wiggled around. I looked up, my fingers on the card. “What does the Wolf want me to do?”

“Three kings will die on your account,” Weta said, his thumb under his chin. “The first already has. The second will before two winters have passed. And the third—a son of Liane will be the one who fells him.”

“But what am I to do?” I pressed.

Weta smiled. “When the Wolf howls, so will you.”

That was no answer at all, but Weta was already shuffling, and the next hand begun.

King’s Court is a game that belongs to the player who seizes the best hand from their opponents. With only two, it is difficult to win more than one hand in a row, and for a third time I lost to Weta. “If Saren were free, as you want it to be, what would that mean?”

The air was cold, and my patience was waning, but I did not want to give a hasty answer.  “I would have no more kings,” I said. “The people of Saren must create a new way of living together.”

Weta seemed to ponder that a moment, and nodded, shuffling the cards.

I had the sense, when I won that round, that Weta had allowed me to win. “What do you want with me?” I demanded.

Weta smiled. “I want a woman who will shake the world, Vulgafra.” He stood, signaling that our game was over. “I have a gift for you.”

I watched him, wary. “In exchange for what?”

“A negotiable price,” he replied.

#

I did not remember how I had returned to Thralduslodge when I woke. A dream, I thought, until I saw it.

Hanging by a leather strap from the back of the chair where my coat was thrown, an old ivory horn, its trumpet carved to resemble the head of a wolf.

I threw the blankets back to find my feet dirty, and had to draw in a breath.

I looked back to the horn. When the Wolf howls, so will you. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Muras or Todd, and wrapped the horn in one of my underskirts, hiding it in my bag. I pulled a robe over my nightdress, and gathered up my clothes to take myself to the lodge’s women’s bath, fed by the hot springs the lodge had been built over.

I scrubbed the dirt from my feet and sat on the edge of the bath, the steam making sweat roll down my back. I thought on a touch that felt like fire and warmed me to the bone, kisses that landed like lightning.

I like you, Vulgafra. Shame you aren’t actually a witch.

Three kings would die on my account, he said. Corasin was the first. ‘A son of Liane’ would fell the third. One of my sons? Or my brothers? And how or why? I had more questions than I had begun with, but I did not think I would be seeing Weta again any time soon. He had played his part, now I was supposed to play mine.

Whatever my part was.

I washed my face and limbs, grateful that the heat took the ache out of my shoulders, and when I was dressed I found my way to the hall where breakfast was laid out. Warm milk sweetened with honey and cloves, beef sausages, a bread that was baked with cheese and herbs and was still warm from the ovens. I was hungrier than I had thought, and ate until my belly ached and the sight of food sickened me.

“I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” Todd said, sliding onto the bench next to me. “Sleep well?”

I shrugged, and distracted him by filling his cup.

“I swear,” he said, amused, “you Sarenn serve milk at every meal.”

“Keeps the flesh on your bones when the winter’s cold,” I said. “Better get used to drinking hot milk.” I smiled at him, and sipped at my own, hoping that the heaviness in my stomach wouldn’t make me drowsy.

“Suppose I should,” Todd said, regarding his cup. “You suppose there are many spices at Morhall?”

There had used to be. I hadn’t appreciated, at the time, the amount of money and work that went into the food. I didn’t much trust Kressosi soldiers to keep up that effort. “Muras has enough pull to get them, if there aren’t,” I said. “Gods help us all, though, if the brewers are bad.”

We were to spend three days in Thralduslodge, giving our elk and ourselves a chance to rest, a time that I spent wandering the halls of the lodge, gazing at tapestries and carvings of ivory and cedar, bone and pine. Gods, heroes, histories and legends. I soaked it in like balm on my soul, this part of myself that I had been denied since I fled to Kressos.

I learned from Lord Alfer’s men that several Atsa Hasi clans had already passed through on their way north for the summer, following the mammoth herds, but being a much smaller group not bound to the schedule of mammoths, we would likely catch up with them in a few weeks.

I had forgotten that it was the Atsa who passed through Wetasur. I wondered, for a moment, if it was possible—but I pushed the thought aside.

Veland would be nearly seven, by now.

Lady Tyna occupied her time tending to the soldiers in our party. Travel runs afoul of some men’s bowels, and I regularly saw her dosing men with teas of lion’s tooth root, or mint, or a mix of astringents that would stop their bowels rather than move them. Something to tend to the cough he had picked up in the rain, something to clear the nasal passages, something to treat saddle sores. It seemed a rather unpleasant business to me, but it kept her busy, and thus away from myself.

In my meandering through the lodge, I was surprised to come across Muras, gazing contemplatively at an aged tapestry depicting a battle. “Tapestries are women’s work, aren’t they?” he asked, when he noticed me.

I nodded. “They are.”

“So a woman… spent months… years… on all this.” He gestured to the scene, men dying impaled on swords and spears, decapitated, relieved of their limbs, carried off to the halls of the dead. Certainly too much for a delicate Kressosi woman.

“Women are the history keepers of their families,” I said, “it was a task granted us by Mother Spider, as were the threads.” I glanced at him, and back to the tapestry. “Are you going to ask me what it depicts?”

“A battle, it seems.”

“Not just any battle.” I pointed to the army on the left, the ones portrayed as monstrous, nearly demonic, with long tongues and teeth, faces more like dogs than men. “The first time that men who called themselves ‘Kressosi’ crossed the Lor.”

#

The Wolf, the first time I truly laid eyes on them, was as all the stories said. Bigger than a bear, fur blinding white. A black nose snuffed at my red silks, and prodded me onto his back, where I sank deep into the coarse fur, and was sheltered from the wind.

She ran, then, though I could not have said how he knew the way, galloping through that featureless white. I held on because I did not know what else to do, because I believed that they would kill me, and I surely deserved it.

I don’t know how long he ran, but it was long enough that I lost myself to exhaustion, and when I woke, I was under the dark of a mammoth hide, by a fire, being tended to by an Atsa Hasi woman hardly older than myself, with a baby at her side. Her name was Pitalani, the granddaughter and apprentice of the clan’s healer.

She told me the Wolf brought me to them, that they were to protect and care for me. They called me Wolf Sister, and did not ask my name. They fed me. They gave me warm clothes to wear and they did not ask where I came from. They cared for me in their winter camp. They sold my silk dress and my slippers and when it became obvious I was pregnant they gave me a protective charm to wear, for the health of my child. A piece of ivory, carved in the shape of a wolf’s head.

For Hasi children, they are usually mammoths.

Veland was born in the spring, as the Hasi were preparing to move north again. He was a big baby, and it was a hard birth. I owe my life to Pitalani and her grandmother. They sang over Veland when they had washed him and put him in my arms, took the ivory charm from my neck and secured it in his swaddling. They asked his ancestors and theirs to protect him. To them, Veland was as good as their own kin.

They had offered a place among their clan for me, a husband who would provide for me and my boy. He was Pitalani’s brother, a little younger than myself, a skilled hunter who any Hasi woman would have been proud to call her husband.

I was not Hasi. I did not want to follow a mammoth herd on elkback for the rest of my life, and most especially I did not want to go north in the summer, back to Morhall, back to that cursed place I had already spilled so much blood to escape from.

I asked them to take care of Veland. If I was caught, at least they need never find him. If I was examined and shown to have given birth, they could never prove that the child had not been stillborn, or perished after. He would be safe with the Atsa, and he would be fed, and I would run as far away from Morhall as I could get, and bury the girl I had been in the northern snow where her bones would be scattered by the carrion birds.

Pitalani adopted him as her own son, a younger brother to her girl, who was just ready to be weaned. I wept when I put him in her arms.

Liana Anarin died the day Morhall fell.

Lya Sargis was born the day I left the Atsa, and crossed the Lor into Kressos, with nothing but a bundle of Hasi clothes and the blood on my hands.

#

I found Lady Tyna packing up her medicines and tools the morning we were to leave Wetasur. “Do you require treatment for something, Miss Sargis?” she asked, not looking up. “Something for the bowels, perhaps? Headaches, poor sleep, your cycle?”

I gritted my teeth. “I need an examination.”

Lady Tyna paused, and looked at me. “For?”

“I’ve not had my cycle since before Nolsaford.”

“Ah.” She considered me again for a moment. “If I might inquire as to why you cannot simply wait to be sure—”

“I don’t know how well prepared Morhall will be for an infant,” I said. “I would rather be sure myself that… we are prepared.”

Lady Tyna nodded. “I was first trained as a midwife.”

“Your skills know no end,” I said dryly.

“Well, I could hardly convince the Kressosi of the usefulness of a female physician if I couldn’t also deliver their wife’s children,” she said, pulling a sheet from her bag so that if we were interrupted, my modesty wouldn’t be compromised.

“I suppose you’ve delivered Princess Arabel’s children.”

“I have. The ones that were born after I came to serve the throne, at any rate.” Her tone was different, now. Less purposefully irritating, I would determine later. She had adopted the tone of a professional physician.

I had never undergone this sort of examination, and was none too eager to have Lady Tyna to be the first to perform it for me, but nor was I eager to ask Lord Alfer’s healer, who looked old enough to be my great-grandmother, and had frigid cold hands. Lady Tyna, I noted, warmed her hands at the coalburner before she began.

“Well,” she murmured, sitting back when the examination was over. “Congratulations, Miss Sargis.”

I swung my legs off the cot and pulled my riding skirts on once more, wondering when I would tell Muras and Todd.

“Have you been pregnant before?” Lady Tyna asked.

“Yes.”

“Were you given to morning sickness?”

“No.” I had been blessed in that regard.

“Any other particular maladies that you noticed?”

I tried to remember. Both my previous pregnancies had been so swallowed up by their circumstances—my fear, with Veland, and my desires to leave, with Kip—that I could scarcely recall anything else. “I couldn’t much sleep, toward the end. Kicked too much.” Both my boys had seemed determined to burst their way out of my ribs. My mother had complained of the same, with me and my brothers.

“Hm, I’ll have to see what I can do about that. Not much I can do to quiet the child, but perhaps I can get you to sleep in spite of them.” She shrugged her shoulders. Very carefully, she asked, “was your previous child… did they thrive?”

“Yes. They were healthy.”

Lady Tyna nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

#

Of Corasin’s other wives, one took particular objection to me.

Princess Solema’s family was Aziran in origin, but had settled in Saren some generations back and sworn fealty to the king. They were still considered new, among the nobility, and perhaps that was what made Solema so determined to hold as much of Corasin’s favor as she could, which—by the time I arrived—must have been quite difficult.

Of each of Corasin’s twelve other wives, Solema was the only one who had borne no children.

The threat that I represented may have been too much for her to bear. I became pregnant during my second year at Morhall.

I was poisoned shortly after it became known, and though I survived, the child did not.

The truth is that I am not and have never been certain that it was Solema who poisoned me, but it was to her that everyone looked and cast their accusations.

I was kept in solitude, while her trial was held. Only my mother, who had come from Arborhall to visit me, was permitted to see me. Corasin claimed it was for my protection.

Whatever evidence was found or testimony given, it was enough that the lawyers Solema’s father sent were not able to protect her. She was guilty not just of attempting to murder a wife of the king, but of successfully murdering one of the king’s children. Neither crime could go unpunished, and together, they had to be answered.

I was brought out of solitude to witness. All the wives were gathered on the walls of Morhall. To warn us, I think.

Solema was cast out of the gates, with no coat, no furs, no shoes. It was only just after midwinter, and the wind was so fierce that it cut under even the bearskin I wore. I cannot imagine what it was like for Solema.

The townsfolk were forbidden to shelter or aid her, and were in fact encouraged to drive her out. I remember tears freezing to my lashes, and I could not watch, but I knew I was not permitted to look away, so I let them freeze my lashes together, and obscure my vision.

She died of exposure, and because the court had determined her a murderer, her body was left for carrion. Her spirit would never know rest, would never reach the halls of the dead.

I was violently ill, for weeks after. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. My mother says that in that time the flesh melted off my bones like candle wax. She had the mirrors removed from my chambers, I was such a grim sight, she feared seeing my reflection would only hasten my death.

I remember a dark room, a fire in the hearth, and an old woman with bony fingers that hurt because I had no flesh left to protect my limbs. Someone held me up, in front of the fire, and the old woman burned herbs on the coals, herbs that made me choke, and cough, and the old woman sought to cast the ghost out of me, to drive Solema back into the wilderness once more.

I recovered after that, but I do not believe Solema was ever driven from my bones. I believe she burrowed deeper, buried herself in the secret halls of my heart. I believe she found our common cause, made her mind one with my own.

Our feud was not with each other, and it never had been.

Our hate burned in my chest, hot and fierce, the aching desperate need to exact our revenge on the man we called our husband.

#

The sun shone warm and bright that morning. The wolf skin was too hot to wear, as was my coat, so I rode with it across the front of my saddle. The fur seemed even brighter in the sunlight, and I was glad to be traveling again.

We took the road through the forest, and it was in leading our little party I spied a clearing I recognized, and hesitated.

“What is it?” Muras asked. He had been riding by my side, though at a distance, as Bili seemed to be in an especially foul temper that morning. I had been forced to prevent him from charging or kicking the men in Lord Alfer’s stables no less than half a dozen times before I was able to get him outside.

I had not told him anything about my meeting with Weta. However charitable he might have been toward my beliefs, I could not fathom that he would believe it was anything but a dream. Gods were not real to Muras the way they were to me. “Nothing,” I said, “just… a peculiar feeling. As if I’ve been here before.”

We were bound due north, to an old trade road that would be dotted not so much with towns as places where one could find taverns and brothels, which supported the small villages nearby.  Even with that, it would be a lonely journey, and we would spend more than a few nights camping along the road when we were too far from any such place by nightfall.

Very occasionally when I was young, my father had traveled with trade caravans out of Arborhall. He was a restless man, he had been his father’s third son, and had hoped to sail on Anarin trade ships, before his elder two brothers died, one in battle and the other of a fever. Now that he was lord, the trade caravans were as far as he allowed himself to roam from his responsibilities, leaving Arborhall in the care of my mother.

He liked to take Julas and me with him. Corvin and Tatton were too young, but Julas and I learned to ride alongside those caravans, practiced our Trader’s Tongue, and amused our father with our delights in ‘discovering’ new places. This particular route I had never taken with father, because he deemed it too far to take his children, and too long a journey for him to be away from home. Still, I could see in my mind the maps on which this road had been drawn, and once upon the road, it would not take much to keep us on our course.

I knew what the way to Morhall was. It was the cursed star I set my compass by.

If it is true that a corpse buried incomplete, or not at all, haunts the earth forever, then I was returning to the place where Corasin was buried without his head, bearing the child of the man who had taken it off.

1-100 go!!!

Sunrise or sunset? The only reason I see a sunrise is because I have been up all night, so I guess sunsets

Are you mentally ill? Oh god here we go

Are you physically ill? I don’t think so, I just take shitty care of myself

What is the most expensive thing you have bought? Concert tickets

Do you have a job? Technically? even though Im off until next May

Are you in school? Yes :(

Are you a dropout? not yet

Are you in college? yes 

Introvert or extrovert? Introverted to the point it impedes my life. 

What do you think when you look at your body? “I wish…” something about changing it. 

What have others said when they look at your body? How would I know? Probably like ‘that girl shouldn’t be wearing a bikini’

Do you have a particular song that you feel deeply? Lots. 

Talk about a time in your life where you have felt most alive? i have no idea. probably doing something as a kid.

Are you confident wearing a bikini? lol i answered that other question before seeing this one - no. 

Can you look people in the eyes while talking? Sure.

Has anything terrible happened to you? Yes. 

Has anything wonderful happened to you? I guess.

Favorite part of your personality? I am not easily offended 

Least favorite part of your personality? All of it? I’m depressed im anxious im insecure im stubborn im easily angered im moody im dependent im clingy

Favorite part of your body? I don’t have an answer for this in a physical manner, so my favorite part is that it still functions through what it has been through (And what I put it through)

Least favorite part of your body? Stomach I guess? I don’t like any part of me. 

Favorite quote? “What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly”

Do you have friendships with all genders? Sure

Do you have a good relationship with your father? I guess

Do you have a good relationship with your mother? Now, yes. 

Do you have a good relationship with your siblings? This implies i have siblings. 

Have you ever been hurt physically or mentally by a family member? Yes. 

Have you ever had a near death experience? I don’t think so. Car accidents, yes, but my injuries were not that serious.

Do you know anyone who has taken their own life? Yes. Both personal & followings.

Have you ever tried to take your own life? Yes & no. Ive committed harm to myself with suicidal thoughts, but I feel like if I 100% knew I wanted to end my life I would have. There was always doubt. 

Biggest lie you have told? “Yeah, Im okay, just tired”

Do you follow any conspiracies? I love conspiracy theories but usually don’t believe them 

Do you believe in a New World Order? I believe in the possibility. 

Do you respect your government and the way your country is run? Oh man you can tell these are questions for a worldwide audience. NO. 

Is there currently any strife in your country? Listen to a Trump speech. 

Have you ever been displaced within your country? Not on an individual level. 

Are your friendships healthy? sure?

Are you currently fighting with a friend? No but I also don’t have many friends. 

Are you jealous of a friend? Why? Im jealous of anyone who isnt me honestly. 

Do you believe in the Illuminati? Why the hell not. 

Do you think any celebrities are associated with the Illuminati? Who? Probably (Im looking at you Beyonce lol)

How can people tell you are nervous? Im sweating, sorry everyone, I keep my answers brief if spoken to. 

How can people tell you are sad? Im quiet. im angry sounding

Do you ever express your true feelings? No.

Regrets in your life? Not trying harder or participating when I could. 

Achievements in your life? Im still here? 

What did people say about you in school? I don’t think people said anything. I kinda didnt exist. 

What did you say about people in school? Again, not much, I had my group of friends and tended to stick with them and only them. 

Is there something you have never told anyone? Sure

Have you committed an illegal act? Ive smoked pot? 

If you had two days to spend one million dollars how would you spend it? Pay my tuition and then still owe money  

What were your aspirations at age 5, 10, 15, 18? Probably to like pet cats? To be a scientist, to be dead probably, then to go to college? I didnt want to but felt like i had to. 

Describe your first kiss? Was it how you imagined? I am sure i imagined some romantic thing but it was just in his doorway as I left his house. 

Growing up were you in a wealthy, average, or low income household? Average.  

Are you from a broken marriage? im from a broken never-married

Have you been raised by a solo parent? No, I lived with both parents until i was 17. 

Do you know both your parents? yes

What colour eyes, hair and skin do you have? Brown, Brunette, white. 

Have you abused drugs or alcohol? No. 

What languages can you speak? English

Do you conform to your societies standards? Not really. 

Do you cry often? Yes

Do you tell people what you think of them? No, but I don’t talk to many people to have an opinion of. 

Are you comfortable accepting compliments? No

Are you comfortable giving compliments? Sure

Is any mental illness hindering your life? Uhm every single fucking day of my life. 

Is any physical illness hindering your life? I guess my vertigo prevents me from going in things that move? ie roller coasters, boats

Do you keep up with current events? Not really. Just from social media

What’s the latest news in the world you have heard/read? Trump being an asshole, what else is new 

What have you done today? Studied a little but got distracted by this lol

Do you sleep well? Once i am asleep, I sleep fine. falling asleep is the problem. 

Do you sleep badly? ^^

Have you ever hurt anyone because you were hurting? All the time 

Has anyone ever hurt you because they were hurting? Maybe?

Have you ever had to end a friendship/relationship? Why? No, people always end their relationship/friendship with me. I dont blame them 

Have you ever stopped someone from hurting themselves? I have tried. 

Has anyone ever stopped you from hurting yourself? Not really? Like in the moment? no, nobody ever knew. 

Do you like your laugh? Its fine.

Are you preparing for an apocalypse? And what kind? No, let it kill me

Do you have any funny family stories? ‘funny’? not really. I have a second cousin? Who is a doctor and for some reason has had an ongoing joke since I was little that he is going to remove my spleen? is that funny? 

Are you religious? No. 

Do you like to watch true crime shows or movies? #CriminalMinds #RIPWalker

Are you interested in cults? They are interesting but Im not exactly looking into joining one? lol

Would you like to raise a family in your country? No but i will never have the courage to leave

List some things you wanted in your childhood but never got? family stability 

Is there a large age gap between you and a sibling? I don’t have any siblings. 

Are you from a blended family? No. just a broken one. 

Do you believe in marriage? Why/Why not? Yes, because nobody else in my life does. 

What is the nicest thing anyone has said to you? Calling me strong? saying I dont give up? Like i give up every day and everything affects me, Im not strong 

Do you keep a journal? As a kid i did. 

Would anyone be hurt by reading it? no, but don’t tell Jacob I had a crush on him in 5th grade

Do you have children? No

Have you been pregnant? No

List your favorite movies? A Beautiful Mind, Memento, The Breakfast Club, Dr. Strange. 

List your favorite people? @x-i-a-t & @reddragon8000

Talk about the birthmarks and scars on your body? I think I have a birth mark on my hip thats very faint, and all of my scars have honestly faded at this point that they are basically gone.

Do you look after yourself? Not at all lol

Do you put yourself or others first? others. 

Are you happy today? Im not extra sad, so Im as close as i can get. 

Are you loved? I think so. 

All the emojis cause I'm bored and u been incognito and I miss reading your fics 🙃🙃🙃

Im sorry ive been incognito. I just finished up my hardest semester of my school ( my gpa went from 3.8 to 3.7 smh) Had my ass handed to me by some hard classes. Also some shit went down with stuff being stolen from me (don't worry its all fine) also there is a spider in my bathroom rn and I am scared . Anyways I have a bunch of fics planned but ive been focused on my commissions firsts.

But y'all don't care about that so lets answer some questions!

🌗 fluff or angst?

-this is a really difficult one because I have never written angst before.

No but seriously, its angst. I feel like I am terrible at fluffy stuff.

🧑 favorite character to write?

-Juvia from FairyTail. She is one of the easiest characters to write because I love her so much and her character is fun to play with. I also really like writing Soul from Soul Eater even though I only have two fics (published, I got like five in the drafts lol)

I also really love writing Blossom and Butch from Powerpuff Girls

💕 favorite ship to write?

-I have favorite ships of fandoms but for now my top is def Gruvia, Blossutch, SoMa and Blossick.

📚 favorite fandom for write for?

-Probably FairyTail or Powerpuff Girls. Although I want to expand my list.

🍑 do you/would you write smut?

-Im not good at it but I can/ have

🥰 fave fic you’ve written?

- I really loved my 200th fic Beautiful Revelations Its very special to me because it shows how far ive come as a writer.

🏆fic youre most proud of?

-I honestly really loved my commission piece, The Freedom Of Being Yours Its a Blossick fic and its one of my longest fics too (about 7.8k)

I also really loved Incinerate but it didn't do as well as my other fics lol . Its a very angsty Blossutch.

-And I really liked Hopelessly Devoted To You my first SoMa Fic <3

💎 fave trope to write?

-I don't think I write tropes very often? but, friends to Lovers. I sense that my fics tend to be a lot of first confessions but all of them start off as friends first and then go on to explore emotions.

-But also any trope that breaks your heart so I can fix it cause im evil

🌍fave type of au to write?

-I don't have a bunch of au's but I do enjoy spy and royalty aus. I prefer to read them than write them myself lol.

🍄how do you get yourself in the mood to write?

-Sometimes its easy as im just in the mood or I force myself to get stuff done. Sometimes I'll read someone else's fic and then im like "time to write" and other times I just start typing and ten mins later, I post it.

Also any time someone drops an idea or request into my ask box it really gets me thinking.

💡what inspires your fic ideas?

-Music, quotes, artwork..honestly inspiration comes from everywhere (I know what a cliche)

🕶canonverse or au?

-I tend to write a lot more canonverse. I like already having the environment and setting handed to me so then I get to run wild and tweak it. But I do love a good au once in awhile.

📒any fics planned?

-I have a boomer x buttercup fic in the works, some SoMa, a few Blossutch (really tragic one too), A LadyNoir and a couple others :)

🎤fave line in a fic you wrote?

Imma put down a few lol

"It almost hurt to think about it not being true. Maybe this was a lie? A facade he made up to make her dance in his hands like a ballerina glued to a music box. A box that played a melody so incredibly wonderful, she never wanted to stop turning." - Melody of Loving You

"She sat at his grave, tracing his name slowly and she prayed that she never forgot the sound of his voice or the smell of his clothes. The feeling of his hands and the texture of his lips had faded like a whisper and before she realized what was happening, it was gone." - To Learn To Love Again

“Even in the darkest corners of my house, I found indulgence and light with you.” Blossom said. -The Freedom of Being Yours

🎁 have a quote from a WIP?

This is from my boomer x buttercup fic:

There’s a whisper that leaves her lips. Only his ears pick it up as he kisses her softly. She stares up at him, those eyes a shade of the ocean that she commits to memory. In every way that she isn’t, he’s perfect.

---

Sorry for being dead and not posting but I hope you enjoyed these! Remember you can always drop into my ask box/ dos. Fic requests are always open too!

Day Fifteen (In His Image)

The last thing he remembered was twisted metal and smoke, a gray haze that clouded his vision, and a eerie muteness that surrounded the scene, where all he actually heard was muffled yelling behind an all-encompassing ringing in his ears. Like tinnitus, only he thought his ears might actually be bleeding. Later, he'd learn that they probably were.

But that was not where he stood now. His eyes fell shut like steel traps when the fire reached him, opened again to see people hovering -very- close to his face, then rolled back once more into darkness and silence.

And then he was in a cave.

Sure, that made sense, he figured, as much sense as anything else that had happened that day. He took a tentative step forward, and found the ground solid beneath his feet, and even though he couldn't see a damn thing in front of him, he decided there was no reason to -not- keep walking. He moved simply because he could, and because his steps echoed satisfyingly, and because he -swore- he heard a rasping whisper somewhere deep within this system.

The first steps were the easiest.

Over the course of a year, Ash would be thrust back into this domain, again and again, in the name of recovery, or so he was told. He was already a miracle case, a medical marvel, and he still didn't understand -why-. No one told him what happened until they were certain he'd live, or so he deduced, and only then did he realize the severity of his situation.

No wonder his head hurt. His brain swelled and ached, his skin cracked and bled, and the migraines became unbearable until the doctors discovered just how badly his eyes degraded from the damage they'd sustained and started leaving the lights on a dim setting. He couldn't move his left arm more than a few inches, but he was supposed to believe that just the fact he could tap a finger was a sign of miraculous improvement. Sure. Good thing he was right-handed, because his left was basically useless to him now.

But when he fell asleep and dreamed of the cave, all the pain vanished. A hip that had been shattered carried him with ease, as if it -wasn't- held together by pins and rods. He used his left arm to run a hand along a damp wall, jerking it back when he felt something squishy and slimy wriggle beneath his fingers. He still couldn't see, but not because his eyes were sore. Every now and again he caught a glimpse of a dim light somewhere in the distance, the impossible distance, and he walked forever toward it.

The rasping grew louder.

His room in the hospital never felt any warmer. There were no flowers, no cards, no sympathy. Sometimes, he had visitors. They were always his family, and 90% of the time it was his mother and his oldest brother. The one that put him in the hospital did not come by so often. Io said it was because Loki was wracked with guilt every time he witnessed what he'd done, but Ash didn't really believe that. It was all for the best, anyway. Ash did not wish to see -anyone-, particularly not his brother, and he knew he had no friends, he'd made sure of it his entire school career. Still, it would have been nice to see a color other than sterile white in all directions. He only found solace in sleep, and dreams.

To think that a musty, creepy cave in his unconscious brain would feel more welcoming than his hospital room. Figured.

They brought him his laptop, and for a while he entertained himself alone in his room, just like he'd done at home anyway. Turned out that typing was a little harder when you only have one usable hand, and soon Ash grew too frustrated and angry to keep trying, every moment spent on his previous favorite platform serving as a grim reminder that he was broken.

Sometimes, to keep his limbs from deteriorating, the nurses tried to help him talk a walk down the hall and back. It was hard, and distressing, and his legs only ever wanted to shuffle painfully while he leaned with his good arm on another human, and he knew he'd have to live the rest of his pathetic life relying on other people from here on out.

Until he was in the caves, alone, on his own, capable and tireless and determined to get to the end of it, or out of it, or at least to that faded light that never seemed to get any closer.

He heard his name in the whispers.

They toyed with the idea of letting him go home for short bursts before being carted back to the hospital, in an attempt to help him feel more comfortable and independent. This ended up causing too much hassle for everyone involved, and thus Ash was right back to being bound to a stiff bed 24/7, though at least here the IV and other garbage he was stuck with on a regular basis wasn't in the way or awkwardly placed around his bedroom. His notebooks gathered dust. He wanted to write.

Almost a year passed in a torturously slow crawl, his waking moments filled with despair and pain and a lot of medical babbling that he didn't understand nor had any desire to learn, while his sleeping life gave him a strange sense of purpose that he never questioned. Did he ever wake up feeling rested? He didn't know. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be well-rested, and even if he didn't spend his induced comas walking endlessly toward some unreachable goal, being awake was to taxing that it wouldn't have lasted anyway.

The winding system of narrow halls carved through rock and densely packed dirt opened into a clearing, a room wide enough that he could stretch both arms out to his sides and still not touch the walls. The light that always felt so far away, so small and distant that he wasn't sure if it was just his busted eyes playing tricks on him even in his sleep, suddenly washed over him, and cast an eerie glow around the room. It looked just like he'd expected it to - glistening walls and an uneven ground and plenty of weird and unnatural creatures writhing around and in between cracks. There seemed to be a heap of something against a rock pillar in the center of the room, a heap that had attracted a lot of...bugs, he thought they probably were. Worms and millipedes and spiders and other revolting things that even he, king of the unpleasant, found himself recoiling from.

The heap stared at him, and he realized the source of the light was somewhere far beyond its hollow eye sockets. A body leaned against the stone, evacuated of its organs and entrails, viscera piled at its side on the ground. Leathery skin stretched and pulled back across dry bones. It was motionless, but he could sense a soul somewhere inside of it, and just as he was trying to come to terms with what he was seeing, the corpse rasped his name.

"Ah, so we finally meet, eh Sonny Jim?"

Ash sneered, already more annoyed than afraid of the literal talking carcass. "My name isn't Jim."

"Right, right...Ashley. Isn't that a girl's name?"

"Hey, fuck you?"

Ash was met with laughter, though the skull didn't move or show any signs of possession, even its jaw remaining frozen in its silent grin. The sound came from somewhere deep within it. He wished it would shut up.

It did not shut up, though, and instead informed him that he was in the presence of a god. Well, weirder shit has happened, why the fuck not, right? He was already a repeat coma patient, dead once for several minutes, suffering from so much physical and mental damage that he really should have just stayed dead. And if there was a god, or gods, it was not a benevolent entity. It was unsurprising, to say the least, to come face to face with a god of death in the form of a talking goddamn cadaver.

Mictlantecuhtli made Ash an offer that day, one that he snapped up readily as soon as he heard the magic word: power. Work for him, this god of death and decay, do his bidding, and receive untold power in return. Ash would have had a hard time declining even before he was bedridden, but now, with his broken body struggling to regain even a fraction of its strength, there was no other choice. The god even informed the teenager that he was of divine lineage to begin with - but like everyone else in his life, his true father abandoned hoim as soon as he stopped being useful to him. When he died, that was it. Worthless, as usual. Story of Ash's life. But now another deity had come before him, offering to fill that void and awaken his ichor once and for all. He'd just have to deal with the catch.

As his father now, by divine adoption, not bonded by blood but by Fate itself, Mictlantecuhtli had the power to restore Ash's strength to full and beyond, but he was not willing to restore Ash's -appearance-, no. His children were not to be beautiful, as Ash once was, as he'd taken after his true divine father before this. He was to remain ugly, disfigured, ruined. Not all of his ails were to be healed. He was to suffer for his gifts.

It was better than being a cripple for the rest of his life.

When he woke up, he didn't hesitate. He slid out of bed, stood straight-backed and stretched, lifting his left arm above his head casually, like nothing had ever happened. He climbed on a chair to reach his relics, mysteriously hidden inside a ceiling tile, proving that his dreams were never just dreams after all, and that the gods were real, and that he was chosen by them, and by Fate. He always knew he was better than everyone else, he just had to die to prove it.

The light still bothered his eyes. The headaches and the nightmares never really ceased, though they became less frequent; they remained as a reminder of to whom he was bound and to whom he owed his life and power. His hair never grew back. His skin never fused back together until it hardened and left deep scars where the heat had cracked and split his flesh. He thinned, parts of his body growing sharp and long and unnatural. As the years marched on, and he distanced himself from his father, he became more grotesque, with an emotional state to match.

No matter how much space he put between himself and Mictlantecuhtli, Ash could never escape their bond. He would always be immediately associated with that god of the Aztec underworld. He would always be the son of Santa Muerte.

Like father, like son - in body, and in mind, and in spirit. He didn't regret it, though. After all, he had power. And more than power...he had control over his own life.

And that was totally worth it.

5 Superhero Movies That Are Only Worth It For One Scene

Bad superhero films are a treasure. Not only does one make you disappointed with Hollywood for creating a bad movie, but it also makes you doubly frustrated because they’re messing up something that you know is good in comic book form. However, we shouldn’t write off a bad superhero movie immediately. Upon closer examination, these terrible films can contain little glimpses of promise — little glimpses that make you say “This might be a secret masterpiece.” Or at least, “This doesn’t suck every poop.”

5

Batman & Robin — The Criminal Property Locker

In the annals of bad superhero films, Batman & Robin stands alone. It isn’t a “Well, maybe it’s not THAT bad” film like Superman Returns or Spider-Man 3. It isn’t a “I’ll forget the plot of this before I even leave the theater” film like X-Men: The Last Stand or Daredevil. It isn’t a “That’s a damn shame” film like Superman IV: The Quest For Peace or Robocop 2. And it isn’t a “If there is a God, they wouldn’t let this happen” film like Catwoman or Spawn. Instead, it’s a film that somehow gets both more amazingly terrible and more inexplicably enjoyable with time. I hate it and I love it in equal measure, and years after I’m dead, researchers will discover my skeleton clinging to a VHS copy of it, like Quasimodo and Esmeralda at the end of Hunchback Of Notre Dame.

But the movie does have one extremely cool split second. Now, there is a well-known Easter egg in Batman & Robin: When Bane and Poison Ivy are breaking Mr. Freeze out of Arkham Asylum, you get a glimpse of the “Criminal Property Locker.” And in the locker are the costumes of the Riddler and Two-Face from Batman Forever. That’s kind of neat — though since Two-Face died by falling into a spiky underwater pit, it does imply that some poor Arkham intern had to dry-clean and sew his fucking suit back together.

Warner Bros.

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5 Things You Can't Help But Wonder When Watching Movies

But the rest of the stuff in the room implies that when the Tim Burton/Joel Schumacher Batman wasn’t eviscerating clowns or neon terrorists, he was still pretty busy. Beside the Riddler’s suit is a doll, so at some point, was Val Kilmer punching the shit out of B-list villain Toyman? Or is that the work of the Dollmaker, a guy who made dolls out of his victims’ skin? Is that dude still in Arkham? It’s unlikely, considering that Michael Keaton’s Batman was one part hero and nine parts sadist, and probably attached a bomb to Dollmaker and peed on him a little bit before even learning his name. But still, the scene adds history to a series that seemed to be mostly about Batman sitting around in his office, waiting for crime to happen.

And then, on the right side, we see a pair of boxing gloves. So good luck, guy who was using those. I’m sure your career as Two-Punch Man was really hitting its peak just before Michael Keaton ripped your intestines out through your eye holes.

But the most interesting part is the big mechanical suit that we see, and on first glance, you’d probably assume that it’s Mr. Freeze’s suit, since that’s what Poison Ivy broke into the locker to get. But Mr. Freeze’s suit looks nothing like that. So either Mr. Freeze has been fighting Batman and Robin for so long that he’s had to upgrade his technology in order to keep his chilly ass un-kicked, or it belongs to another mech-suited villain. The pyromaniac Firefly, maybe? That would be so awesome, and now I’m so pissed that I never got to see Val Kilmer stare expressionless around a bug man with a flamethrower. What were you even good for if you couldn’t give us that, the ’90s?

4

Judge Dredd — The Angel Gang

Judge Dredd came out in 1995, when we were still trying to figure out whether superhero movies were going to be a thing. Sure, Superman and Batman had been pretty successful, but was there hope for anyone else? The answer to that was “Not yet,” as proven by the lackluster Judge Dredd, which featured Sylvester Stallone. I know that we’re all currently pretty high on Stallone after Creed, but between Rocky IV and Rocky Balboa, he was having a rough time being in any movie that someone could honestly call good. At his best, he was in films like Demolition Man — or as my dad would call it, Daniel, we need to talk.

Judge Dredd has sweet set design, but other than that, it’s a lot of Stallone and Armand Assante shouting at side characters who are too useless to be given their own shouting dialogue. The only time it really perks up is when Stallone and his little buddy Rob Schneider get captured in the wastelands by the Angel Gang. The Angel Gang are cannibals, and their role in the movie almost feels like Judge Dredd DLC. But during the gang’s brief vacation in your eyeballs, Judge Dredd ceases to be a humdrum exploration into the beauty of shoulder pads, and starts feeling special.

There are plenty of movies wherein superheroes fight random gangs. There are just as many superhero movies where the hero is forced to fight a guy who could’ve been a hero, but instead went evil. But there are very few superhero films in which the hero has to tangle with the cast of The Hills Have Eyes. The Angel Gang is a bunch of wild cards. They don’t want to build a city-sinking torpedo or open up a portal to release an ancient evil whatever; they just want to snack on you a little bit. They won’t say any clever lines or reveal any master plans. At most, they’ll maybe give you a recipe for you, medium-rare.

Sadly, their stay is brief, because Stallone soon escapes and jams an electrical wire into the head of most monosyllabic among them. Of course, the mutant does get to say, “You killed my Pa,” so it’s not a total waste.

3

Blade: Trinity — The Human Farm

Throughout the Blade series, characters are constantly mentioning the fact that the vampire universe is bigger than you know. Sure, you think we live in a world of humans and puppy dogs and hit singles from Evanescence, but underneath it all, there’s a society of vampires. And when that society decides to rule the world, Blade will … take them out pretty easily, actually. For a race that’s apparently thiiiiis close to dominating the world, they sure seem to be divided into easily spin-kicked pockets.

Blade: Trinity is the worst Blade film. The best thing about Blade and Blade 2 is that they feel inventive and fresh. You’re getting things from them that you wouldn’t get from a Spider-Man or X-Men film — namely, Wesley Snipes cursing and reducing screeching henchmen to ashes. It’s why they’re two of my favorite superhero films. On the other hand, Blade: Trinity features boring-ass Dracula and his something or another quest to vaguely rule the world. After years of tackling rave mutants and goth Nosferatus, Blade’s final fight is with a bad Witcher cosplayer.

Luckily, we do get one scene that feels like it came out of the earlier films. Blade finds a human farm, where a bunch of comatose people are vacuum-sealed into big Ziploc bags and used as a constant source of vampire food. It’s super creepy, and when Blade gets told that they’re all brain-dead, he shuts the whole thing down with barely a second thought or a quietly growled “motherfucker.”

New Line Cinema

It also gives the movie (and the series) a sense of grand scale that it had been lacking. Oh, THIS is what the vampires were hyping up when they were jabbering on about their big vampire plans. Well, I apologize for not paying more attention, emo ghouls. My bad. My bad.

2

X-Men: Apocalypse — Wolverine’s Introduction

Before Logan, we only got tastes of Wolverine’s full potential as a fighter. One taste was in X2, when he has to defend Xavier’s School for Kool Kidz and Cyclops from William Stryker’s men. But the best pre-Logan scene of Wolverine grinding his way through bad guys in order to level up for the final boss was in X-Men: Apocalypse. Wolverine appears for only a few minutes in this movie, and he looks like an absolute monster.

Imagine you’re a security guard for some mutant research project. You don’t really worry about those mutants escaping, because why would you? They’re usually sedated and subdued, and if they did start waking up, there’s a whole room full of guys with heavy firearms who would blow them away. Then one day, you’re eatin’ a microwavable chicken pot pie and thinking about your novel when you hear “Weapon X is loose.” You know, the most dangerous experiment in a whole building full of dangerous experiments. Will the gun they’ve given you work against someone with adamantium claws and, if the rumors you heard are true, healing powers? Maybe.

That’s the feeling you get during the scene in which Wolverine escapes: pure, pee-your-pants, “Oh my god, I was not properly trained for this” terror. Sure, Logan has a lot of scenes where he cuts his way through dudes, but that movie frames it as action, while this turns Wolverine into a slasher villain. It doesn’t hurt that the scene ends with a splash of blood coming from offscreen, which is slasher movie code for “Daaaammmnnn.”

The rest of the movie is pretty subpar. The X-Men’s most powerful villain, Apocalypse, is handled so poorly that you just wish Magneto could be the main bad guy for the fourth time. But I guess it’s to be expected that the best part of an X-Men film would include Hugh Jackman. Oh, Hugh. Was it something I said? Please come back.

1

Batman v. Superman — The Warehouse Fight

Batman v. Superman didn’t give us a lot of what I would call “iconic” Batman moments. At one point, he does ask Superman, “Do you bleed?” and that’s pretty cool. But then Superman flies off because he has more important things to do than to lightly argue with some billionaire manchild, leaving Batman just standing there. So what does Batman do? He says, “You will,” and TOTALLY WINS THAT CONVERSATION. You sure got him, dude helplessly standing in the wreckage of his super car. I’m sure the shower argument that you had by yourself later was full of similar zingers. “DO YOU BLEED? WELL, I BET YOU DO. AND THEN I’D FUCKING PUNCH HIM LIKE THIS, AND SUPERMAN WOULD BE ALL LIKE, ‘NO, PLEASE, STOP, BATMAN. I BET YOUR PENIS DOESN’T EVEN SLIGHTLY CURVE TO THE LEFT.’ AND I’D BE ALL LIKE BAM. POW. SHUT UP.”

On a more positive note, Batman v. Superman does have one awesome scene: the warehouse fight. Now, before I get into why this part is so great, I do have to say that a lot of it has to do with the critically acclaimed Batman: Arkham games, which make every other Batman fight scene in every other medium look like a slap fight among friends. In the Arkham games, you can sneak up behind a dude, choke him out, zip up to a gargoyle, fly over and drop-kick a man’s torso off his body, zip back up to another gargoyle, tie a guy up to said gargoyle, throw a smoke pellet, hit a thug with an electric shock gun, choke out another dude, and then run up to the last dude as he fills you with bullets and hope that your body armor holds up for long enough so that Batman can someday wear the man’s skull as a shoe.

That’s the kind of thing that we got in the Batman v. Superman warehouse scene, during which Batman goes back and forth, rearranging an entire gang’s internal organs using everything in his disposal. Here are a few highlights:

– A guy comes into the room brandishing a grenade, so Batman kicks a guy he already has hanging from the ceiling into the grenade man.

– Batman Rock Bottoms a dude into the floor — a technique most assuredly taught to him by Ra’s al Ghul when Batman trained with all of those ninjas. “You must learn to conquer your fear, Bruce,” I remember Ra’s saying in Batman Begins. “CONQUER IT WITH THE PEOPLE’S ELBOW.”

– Batman uses his grappling hook gun thing to sling a box into a guy, and the guy gets hit so hard that he flies into a wall and the back of his goddamn head apparently comes off.

There are a lot of people who have a problem with Batman committing murder, but since my favorite superhero film is Batman Returns, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. At the very least, it gave us a chance to experience an Arkham City level on the big screen, narrated entirely by Ben Affleck’s grunts.

Daniel has a Twitter. Go to it. Enjoy yourself. Kick your boots off and stay for a while.

Live long enough to see yourself become the villain with your own Batman Utility Belt!

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Here’s why The CW’s ‘Riverdale’ isn’t just ‘Dark Archie’

Pictured (L-R): KJ Apa as Archie, Camila Mendes as Veronica and Lili Reinhart as Betty in ‘Riverdale’

Image: Katie Yu/The CW

When Luke Perry was growing up in small town Ohio, sharing a tiny bedroom in a trailer with his brother, he took sanctuary with a stack of comic books piled high in his closet. Hed pull issues from his stash and read them diligently by flashlight, and amid the many superheroes and sci-fi epics there was another favorite a staple of the medium since debuting in 1941: the quaint, relatable, all-American adventures of teenager Archie Andrews and his high school pals, rivals and crushes, set in the idyllic town of Riverdale, U.S.A.

Today, Perry no stranger to series centered around iconic locales, thanks to his stint on Beverly Hills 90210 is among the cast of Riverdale, The CWs ambitious and decidedly edgier take on the 75-year-old comic book series.

Veering away from the wholesome vibe that many associate with classic Archie, the drama adds a Twin Peaks-inspired aura of mystery, danger and controversy to the small town proceedings.

For instance, in the pilot episode, our redheaded, freckle-faced hero, played by New Zealander K.J. Apa, indulges in a steamy backseat tryst with his teacher Miss Grundy reimagined from the comics silver-haired spinster into the much younger, more curvaceous form of actress Sarah Habel. Not only that the site of their forbidden dalliance soon puts them in uncomfortable proximity to the season’s unfolding murder mystery.

I was the biggest skeptic, Perry admits to Mashable of the more adult take on the Archie gang. I said, Im the guy youve got to convince. I grew up reading Archie I am that guy. So show me what is different about this. And they did.

KJ Apa as Archie and Luke Perry as Fred

Image: Diyah Pera/The CW

“They” are the production team led by writer-producer Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, an accomplished playwright and veteran scripter of popular television series including Glee and Big Love, whos also enjoyed an acclaimed second career in the comic book industry.

A stint at Marvel Comics writing top-tier characters including the Fantastic Four and Spider-Man ultimately led Aguirre-Sacasa to an opportunity to write the 2013 comic book miniseries Afterlife with Archie. The endeavor represented a bold step for publisher Archie Comics in which the company combined their longtime characters with a zombie apocalypse narrative drawn by emerging fan-favorite artist Franco Francavilla.

It is a five-year-old Robertos dream come true, Aguirre-Sacasa tells Mashable. Ive always loved the characters. I read them from when I was a kid.

Like Perry, the writer was among a second generation of Archie devotees that discovered the now-iconic characters Archie, Jughead, Betty, Veronica and Reggie, as well as spin-off headliners like Josie and the Pussycats and Sabrina the Teenage Witch over a quarter century after they first debuted.

Ashleigh Murray as Josie

Image: Katie Yu/The CW

In 1941 a few years after rival publisher DC Comics had launched the superhero genre with Superman MLJ Comics had been riding that pop culture wave with their own powered-up characters, including the patriotic, pre-Captain America hero The Shield.

But publisher John L. Goldwater was looking for a new comic book genre that would feel fresh yet familiar. Hoping to capitalize on the popularity of the wholesome, funny, relatable teen antics of MGMs Andy Hardy screen franchise, starring a young Mickey Rooney, he gave over a six-page portion of the twenty-second issue of an established title, Pep Comics, to the earliest incarnation of the Archie gang.

Though not even mentioned on the cover of its debut issue, the Archie feature, originally written by Vic Bloome and drawn by Bob Montana, was quickly established as the hottest and much imitated new genre in comics, so popular that within a few years MLJ formally changed the books name to Archie Comics, and Archie himself appeared on every cover from 1944 onward.

Over the decades, circulation soared to nearly 300,000 copies, and Archie-mania was born: Several of the ever-expanding Archie-verse characters headlined their own solo series; Dan DeCarlo, who moonlighted drawing sultry pin-up girls for pulp magazines, became the definitive Archie artist and developed the signature look of the comic; The Archies, a prefabricated pop group of anonymous studio musicians (packaged as Archies garage band) scored an enduringly popular hit song in 1969 with Sugar, Sugar; past issues were collected in conveniently miniature digests; progressive new minority characters were introduced into white-bread Riverdale; and the characters became widely commercialized, appearing on TV shirts, lunchboxes, Saturday morning cartoons and a hit primetime sitcom starring Melissa Joan Hart as Sabrina the Teenage Witch.

Although the Archie lines mainstream appeal would gradually wane to cult status among comics fans in the 1990s and 2000s, the characters would endure as iconic figures to multiple generations of readers.

Through it all, though the hairstyles, hemlines, hotrods and hi-jinx evolved, the Archie stories rarely wavered from their core conceit: the misadventures of an average American high-schooler pursued by a pair of beautiful, competitive girls, constantly vexed by his rivals and consoled with good humor by his offbeat, free-thinking best friend.

By 2010, more opportunities were arising to tap the ongoing goodwill toward the Riverdale mythos.

I love the characters. Id grown up reading the characters. I always kind of went back to the characters, says Aguirre-Sacasa. I always wanted to write them even when I started writing for Marvel Comics. I was exclusive to them for years. And in fact, I broke my exclusivity with Marvel because I had a chance to write an Archie comic, Archie Meets Glee, which was the first thing that I did for Archie, and that was a dream come true.

SEE ALSO: 9 shows to get excited about in 2017

Even as he was bringing the characters slightly outside of their traditional comfort zones, it was clear that Aguirre-Sacasa was simpatico with the essence of the Archie gang, and he quickly assumed greater custodianship of the characters, eventually being named Chief Creative Officer of Archie Comics, overseeing a critically and commercially successful re-launch of the core titles by top-tier comics creators. At the same time, he began shopping new and left-of-center takes on the properties to Hollywood.

I really want to help bring these characters to life in a way thats never really happened successfully, he says, explaining how he promised publisher Jon Goldwater, the son of the original Archie Comics head, that theyd have to create a slow build of heat on the publishing side before turning Hollywoods head.

Though theres always sort of heat on Archie, he adds. When they make a move and they get tons of press. I know that my friends at DC and Marvel were always like, Why do you get so much ink? People love the characters.

Afterlife With Archie, a surprise sensation in the comics world, demonstrated that after three-quarters of a century that the tried-and-true Archie format had more malleability than expected.

Image: archie comics

We were really nervous about putting the Archie characters in quite a hardcore horror story with a lot of gore, and violence, and some pretty wild ideas, says Aguirre-Sacasa. But we found out two things: one is that the characters could withstand that kind of caldron of stuff; and two, the fans loved it the fans loved seeing the characters they loved in different situations, and they were emotionally invested in what happened to the characters. They were sad when characters were eaten by zombies.

It of course has a little bit informed Riverdale, says the writer, who teamed with executive producer Greg Berlanti no stranger to successful comic-to-TV adaptations thanks to his success with DC Comics and The CWs interconnected superhero series, Arrow, The Flash, Supergirl and DCs Legends of Tomorrow to infuse a similarly shadowy sensibility into the television take.

When we start pushing at the boundaries, I think people get nervous, but I think when you see it, you see that its done with integrity, and care, and comes from a deep abiding love of these characters,” Aguirre-Sacasa says. “No one wants to protect them more than I do. But you do have to evolve them, and you do have to push boundaries, and you do have to be more than just a story with a joke at the end.

My pitch to Roberto was, Number one, we have to find a form where in this can work as a TV show, Berlanti tells Mashable. Number two, can whats beloved about Archie and intrinsic about Archie and the Americana-esque, period element of it translate to todays audience? Thats the challenge we have to at least be aware of [Id tell Roberto] it has to be as much of his personality as possible, because youre a show creator, and youre creating this thing, and theres so many elements of things you love: you love horror, you love comedy, you love irreverent stuff. It has to be as evocative of you and your personality, as Afterlife with Archie really was too.

As we moved along, he wrote a script that was terrific and had that magic thing, Berlanti adds. Im not sure I knew until I read his draft of the pilot script that we developed that it was a real TV show.

One misconception that is out there is that this is Dark Archie, this is dark, gritty Archie, and Rated R Archie, chuckles Aguirre-Sacasa. And in fact the show is a mix of light and dark. The show honors what is Archie, and then subverts it. For me, the sweet spot is the tension between Twin Peaks, and the tension between the 1950s sock hop Archie right in between that is where stories work on both levels. They work as good Archie stories, but they work as good noir, or mystery, or moody stories as well.

KJ Apa as Archie, Camila Mendes as Veronica, Cole Sprouse as Jughead, and Lili Reinhart as Betty

Image: Katie Yu/The CW

Roberto loves these characters, and I dont think anyones salacious to be salacious, Berlanti says of the elements that may sound eyebrow-raising to anyone who hasnt read Archie Comics in a while. That is not our goal. That being said, the show wants to deal in the tropes of these kinds of shows, and comment on those kind of things, and have that be a part of it. Im sure that wont be the first time we have a subject matter that makes people [take pause] – but I can say, in terms of our heart being in the right place, we dont start from that place of like, ‘this is going to get us some people to watch.’ We love these characters, and you dont want to assassinate them either.

Though the characters may be in dark, adult, morally-compromised, scary situations, the characters are still true to their essences, says Aguirre-Sacasa. Those characters are basically the characters they are in Archies Double Digest, just put in a crazy, messed-up situation. Theres trial and error, but I think thats where the show lives in the tension and the juxtaposition of those things.

I would say weve been met with guarded optimism, Perry who ultimately signed on to play Archies father, Fred Andrews says of the Archie fanbase. They dont want us to mess Archie up, but they do want to see it in a new way. They do want these characters to have a new life thats the sense Ive got. So were going to try to give them that without messing up the other.

Riverdale airs Thursdays at 9 p.m. on The CW.

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