Closed rp w/askthephantomshifter

Kinder strode through his forest, grass and clusters of flowers growing from his back. He was doing his usual rounds, making sure that nothing was going wrong and that no one was messing around where they shouldn’t be. Everything seemed to be fine-until he came across a strange, unconscious being laying on the ground.

Then Ares’ heart was thrilled with grief and rage for his child slain. Straight from Olympos down he darted, swift and bright as thunderbolt terribly flashing from the mighty hand of Zeus, far leaping o'er the trackless sea, or flaming o'er the land, while shuddereth all wide Olympus as it passeth by. So through the quivering air with heart aflame swooped Ares armour-clad, soon as he heard the dread doom of his daughter. For the Aurai (Gales), Boreas the North-wind’s fleet-winged daughters, bare to him, as through the wide halls of the sky he strode, the tidings of the maiden’s woeful end.

Quintus Smyrnaeus, Fall of Troy 1. 923 ff

I’m not crying, you’re crying.

Unsettling Stories rerun: The Purpose of Joy

“Stop eating,” came the seduction, “and I will nourish you.”

As the words drooled from its lips and puddled inside her ears, Joy began to change. She became less; the decrease in her mass was matched by the strangling of her vivacity. The Joy her friends knew dissolved into something cold. Interactions with her that once provided comforting warmth now left them furred with rime. They let her go.

Autumn vitrified into winter and Joy strode with mindless, impelled teleology on the legs of a newborn foal. True to the promise of her seducer, she was nourished. Her needs were met each night, all night, as she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. Her eyes traced the shape floating above her. Traced the undulations under its skin. Traced the extrusion of its nourishment into her throat. Traced its lips forming the words:

“Give me a child and I will make you an angel.”


Unsettling Stories is on Facebook.

The Ice Queen (Final Rose)

The horde of Grimm advanced, but the army that strode forward to meet them was no normal army. It was an army every bit as relentless and implacable as the Grimm. It was an army wrought of ice.

Gleaming figures marched in thunderous lockstep, swordsmen, spearmen, cavalry, and archers, all of them made of ice. They drew to a halt opposite the Grimm, the thick woods on one flank and the open, snow-covered plains on the other. The Grimm paused for a moment and then charged, filling the air with bestial roars and howls.

The army of ice moved seamlessly into position. The spearmen stood at the front, spears braced against the ground. Behind them, the archers drew their bows and fired. Shards of ice raced up into the air and then descended on the Grimm in a flurry of cold death. 

One arrow would never have been enough to kill one of the Grimm, but there were thousands of arrows. And these were no normal arrows either. Every one of them carried a tiny fragment of the power that had created the icy army. The arrows not only pierced what they hit but they also tried to freeze it. 

Any regular force would likely have broken under the withering assault, but the Grimm were not human, not even close. They rushed forward, heedless of the damage their fellows had taken, and slammed right into the spearmen that made up the front ranks of the army of frozen soldiers.

The sheer bulk of the Grimm was enough to drive the first few rows of spearmen back, but the spearmen neither broke nor panicked. Instead, they simply took hold of their spears and dug their feet deep into the snow for purchase. Hundreds of spearmen were smashed to pieces within moments, but there were hundreds more to take their place.

The Grimm, giving little thought to strategy or tactics, simply continued to press forward, slashing and clawing and biting. The spearmen closed ranks, and the snow around them hardened, turning into ice to help brace them against the weight of the Grimm’s charge.

That charge ground to a halt.

And the spearmen began to push back with all the unnatural strength their inhuman bodies possessed. Little by little, the Grimm began to falter, and as they did, the cavalry swung in from the side with all the force of an avalanche. A shockwave of force of spread through the tightly packed mass of Grimm, and the cavalry were followed by rank after rank of swordsmen. All the while, the archers continued to rain arrows down on the Grimm. A normal army would have tired at some point, but this was no army of flesh and blood. This army was every bit as tireless as the Grimm - and every bit as merciless.

At last, the Grimm broke and began their retreat. Perhaps it was coordinated action, or perhaps it was merely some kind of instinct. In the end, it didn’t matter. A great groan came from the land beneath them, and the snow on the plain rose up into a vast wave of white that washed over the Grimm with terrible force. 

The dark figures of the Grimm were lost amidst the sea of white powder. Yet looks could be deceiving, for the snow was anything but soft. Instead, it was much closer to iron filings, the edge of each snowflake honed to razor sharpness. The effect was not unlike a gigantic shredding machine.

After several minutes, the snow fell still. The icy army spent almost an hour searching for any survivors and eliminating them before marching away.

X     X     X

“And people think I’m the scary one,” Averia murmured as she and Elsa turned away from the battlefield.

“We’re both scary,” Elsa replied. “I’m just better at hiding it.”

White Rabbit - Part Ten

Author: Cherrywhisp

Spencer and Alice arrived at the BAU an hour later, Ellen and Robert in tow. The car had arrived on time, and had driven directly into the buildings parking structure meaning that if anyone HAD been watching the building, they wouldn’t have seen Alice enter it. She was pleased about that part at least.

She followed Dr Reid through the halls to the BAUs offices, feeling eyes on her as she entered. Agent Hotchner was stood with a group of people, profilers she presumed knowing what happened on this floor. When he saw her, he strode over.

“Alice, thank you for coming. Let me introduce you to the rest of mine and Dr Reids team and then we’ll get started. They’re fully briefed on what you’ve told us so far.”

He led her over the small group of people, Spencer walking instep with her.

“Alright so these are Agents Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan and David Rossi.”

“I know you.” Alice turned to the older man of the group.

“I imagine you do if you’re taking Professor Frosts class.” He greeted her, giving her a warm smile. She smiled back feeling somewhat at ease with these people, particularly David Rossi. She’d read all of his books and greatly admired his work.

“And this is our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” Agent Hotchner turned to a cheerful looking blonde woman who wore bright green glasses and pink shoes. She smiled at Alice as well.

“Team this is Alice Manchester, or Alice Bradley as she was known. Alice had kindly agreed to come in to talk to us about her experience and to help us work through this case.”

He turned to Spencer. “Dr Reid, can you get set up in interview room 2 please. Dave will accompany you.” He’d seen the recognition that Alice had for Rossi and thought it might do better if she was interviewed by two people she knew, or at least knew of. He’d be the other side of the glass listening.

Spencer nodded and led Alice away. Her sister and brother in law lagged behind.

“Why are we here, exactly?” Ellen asked the Agent.

“Because we’ll need to interview you both about Alice’s behaviour when she returned home, and I imagine you both want answers as well. She won’t talk with you to in the room, she made that much clear last night. But you can remain behind the glass with myself.”

“Just to be clear here, Alice isn’t in any trouble here is she? She’s not under arrest or anything?” Robert spoke, a worried look on his face.

“No, she’s not. She’s assisting us with what has the potential to be a very confusing case. At the moment she’s the only witness we’ve got.”

Hotch gave orders to the other team members, before leading Robert and Ellen through to the room where they could watch Alices interview. Through the glass he could see Rossi handing both Dr Reid and Alice coffee before settling down with one himself. He said something to the girl that made her laugh, her shoulders relaxing, Hotch couldn’t hear it as he hadn’t flicked the switch that allowed their voices to be heard but he was pleased to see that she looked more at ease. This would be easier that way.

“If you’d like to take a seat then I’ll go and tell them to begin when ready.” Aaron left the room and knocked three times on the interview room door before entering.

“We’re ready when you are. Take your time Alice and remember, we will protect you at all costs if you can lead us to the people that have murdered these 38 and possibly more, victims.”

“Are they next door too?” She nodded to the glass, not knowing that she was actually looking directly at her sister, their eyes locked through the two way mirror.

“Yes. But if you’ve changed your mind and don’t want them to here this, then I can move them to a different room. I’ll be in there with them, and I’ll be feeding any names or information you give us to our Technical Analyst Penelope.”

“It’s fine. At least now they’ll know.” Looking directly at the glass she spoke again. “Please don’t hate me.”

Spencer shifted in his chair, picking up the box of photos and the bracelets that Alice had allowed him to bring. He handed one particular photo to Hotch, a photo that showed Alice with both Lewis and Marnie Goldstein.

Aaron viewed it carefully and nodded, taking it with him as he exited the room.

“Where do you want me to start.” Alice asked Spencer, taking a sip of the hot coffee in front of her.

“At the beginning.”

A/N Totally aware that this was ridiculously short. Soz!


@43versionsbetter @novam–vitam

This place is the most organized mess I never had the honor to step in…

Is what Parker first thought when he was quickly rushed from his helicopter, having landed on top of one of Halifax’s biggest building. He was shouted at the second he had set foot on ground, two assistants debriefing him of the rest of today’s procedure.

“You’ll need to be wearing tactical suits in all time Mr. Parker!” one of them shouted, her voice almost completely erased by the resonating sound of the chopper taking off again.

She added a few more things that the agent didn’t get the chance to grasp entirely yet he nodded and strode through the metal door that led off the roof.

He ran his way down the stairs, his two assistants still following him and debriefing him as best as they could.

“The first attendants are already starting to gather in the atrium, we need to get you suited Mr.Parker.” The male assistant received his information from the small earpiece he was wearing and nervously pressed Parker into a side room from the staircase.

As soon as they entered, Parker’s eyes widened from all of the commotion around him. People were carrying huge wooden boxes from one place to the other, small convent of fully suited man armed to the teeth were striding together and a technical team seemed to be on the last miles of rigging the whole electronical material before the big moment.

“AH-” a rough voice came from behind Parker.

He turned around and saw a familiar face, the captain of the chairman’s personal guard Carlton Nolin himself, a wide smile on his scared face.

“James Parker!” He laughed out, handing out his hand.

Parker nodded, showing a warm smile himself.

“Well, Nolin, you’re here, I’m surprised the chairman let his best man out of his sight.” the agent said with a grin.

Nolin whistled at one of his man and signaled him to come over.

“We’ll have more time to talk later Parker, for now you suit up. We’re meeting our rookies in 5 sharp.”

pixelmikan asked:

Mikan walked over to Komaeda's room looking for someone to talk to. She gently knocked on the door. “A-are you still a-awake..?” she said with a stutter. After all, it was midnight. After a while of waiting "I-its okay.. sorry for the inconvinience!" she said with a sad tone. "I'll just go..".

The producer sat up, hearing someone knock at his door. His eyebrows knitted together before he strode to the door, pausing the track he was working on before opening, revealing the nurse– at least, that was who he assumed she was. 

“Heya. I don’t think we’ve met… Joel Reznor, Ultimate Producer. Are ya looking for somebody?”


Without the slightest hesitation, the cloaked figure of Kylo Ren emerged and strode forward to join the battle. A stunned Rey could only track him with her eyes. She had seen this man before, in a daydream. In a nightmare.

submitted by not-sis-strider

    Dave grimaced as he examined himself in the bathroom mirror, leaning onto the sink to get a closer look at the splotchy bruise already forming on his jaw, that shallow, ragged cut that had missed his eye by an inch. His glasses lay forgotten on the edge of the sink, one of the lenses shattered completely and the other cracked beyond repair. This certainly wasn’t the first fight he’d gotten himself into (antagonizing stupid people is just so tempting sometimes), but it had been the worst one in a while, and he’s just lucky the bastard he’d gotten into it with had no idea how to throw a punch. Dave suspects the idiot broke something in his hand.

    Grumbling to himself, the blonde tugs off his ruined shirt, about half of the blood staining it belonging to him and the other half to his opponent. This really wouldn’t be that big of a deal- none of the cuts from the pansy-ass pocket knife were deep enough to require stitches, and he hadn’t broken or even displaced anything as far as he could tell. He was bruised all to hell, but there’s nothing to be done about those anyway. No, the problem is that today is Wednesday, and Bro gets off work early on Wednesdays, which means he could be home any minute-

     The bloodied boy curses out loud when he hears the familiar sound of the apartment door cracking open, Bro letting his keys clatter into the junk bowl in the kitchen, the twin snaps as he removes his beloved fingerless gloves. The bathroom door is locked, but that never stops Bro, especially not in his own damn apartment. There’s footsteps in the hall that stop outside the bathroom door, heavier because Dave’s guardian hasn’t removed his shoes yet, and then Bro’s familiarly deep voice:

    “Dave? Ya in there, kid? You din’ drown, did ya?”

    The youngest Strider curses again, under his breath this time, and leans against the door as if that would do anything to stop Bro if he really wanted to get in. “Yes, Bro, I’m in here, no I didn’t drown, can you go away now?”

    “I’m hurt, Davey, truly hurt. Don’t you want to give your big bro a welcome home kiss? You’re not dying in there, are you?”

    “Fuck, no, just-” The words cut out with a small noise of pain from the smaller blonde, when he shifts just the wrong way and a rib that is probably bruised gives an angry throb of pain, demanding to be paid attention to.

    And then the bathroom door is banging open and Dave has to stumble forward to avoid getting hit by it, Bro standing in the doorway while he assesses the situation. His eyes flick to the crumpled shirt on the ground, the forming bruises all over Dave’s bare torso, the occasional shallow cut. There’s indents from gravel on the boy’s cheek, and dirt in his white-blonde hair.

    Dave watches as his brother’s expression shifts minutely, twists, can see the righteous anger in his eyes even as he steps closer to examine Dave himself. He sucks in a sharp breath when roaming, calloused fingers prod at tender bruises, grunting softly when the older of the pair uses a little too much force in checking to make sure no bones were broken. Bro is practically shaking now, and he looks like he’s ready to murder someone.

    “Bro, come on, it’s not that-”

    “Who the hell did this to you? Goddamnit, Dave, you can’t keep starting shit with people! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.” Bro reprimands, eyes hard. Dave swallows thickly, because no matter what happens between them, Bro always has the ability to make him feel small again, make him feel ashamed.

    “Seriously, Bro, you’ve done worse to me in the past! I’ll be fine, okay? Chill.”

    Bro ignores him in favor of making him sit on the edge of the bathtub, shuffling things around under the sink until he finds the first-aid kit. When he finds it, he turns around again in the tiny space available and squats down in front of his injured brother. Before he can start to take out any of the supplies he’ll need, Dave reaches out and pulls him close, connects their lips gently. The kiss is brief, and a few second later, Dave pulls away an inch or so, looking into Bro’s orange eyes. 

    “Bro. Calm down, okay? You’re gonna patch me up and I’ll be fine, I promise. No need to panic.”

    Finally, the spiky-haired Strider nods and withdraws from his brother’s grasp to return to his job of making sure Dave doesn’t die from infection, pulling out antiseptic and bandages. He wets a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol, goes after the cut that almost got Dave’s red eye. The younger blonde grabs the offending hand before it can reach though, and Bro raises an eyebrow.

    “What the hell, dude, you gotta kiss it better first. Otherwise the magic won’t work and my fair maiden heart surely will cease to beat. Or some shit.”

    Bro gives him a look that clearly says ‘are you fucking serious right now’, but Dave just smirks at him and raises an eyebrow when his brother doesn’t move.

    “Chop chop, bro, one smooch for each boo-boo.”

    Finally, the older man leans forward and presses his lips against the jagged cut, and it stings a little, but it’s definitely worth it. Then he does swab it with the alcohol and holy shit, he doesn’t care how many times he has to clean a cut, alcohol always hurts like a bitch. Bro does the same for all of Dave’s wounds, dressing each in a self-adhesive bandage, and even deigns to bestow a kiss on some of the forming bruises. When he’s all done and everything is put away, the ruined shirt tossed in the trash, and his torn up knuckles kissed and treated as well, Bro scoops his brother up in his arms with a squawk of protest from said brother and carries him like a fucking princess all the way to his bed, where he lays Dave down gingerly and then crawls in next to him, still dressed. Dave sighs contentedly, curling into his brother’s broad chest and comfortable warmth, letting his eyes slip shut. They lay like that for a few minutes, neither speaking or doing much of anything but enjoying being in contact with the other.

    Until Bro broke it: “So, are you going to tell me how you got into this massive fight?”