-Gravebound-

-GraveBound-

Part 2

~820 words

Warnings: Complementary action ;)

From that moment in the ash-choked valley, when death passed him by wrapped in black robes and pale eyes, something within him changed.

He did not forget the way she stood, still as a monument, the undead rising at her call. Nor the way her voice brushed past him—barely human, yet unmistakably alive.

He trained. He bled. He prayed not for peace, but for purpose. For the strength to stand beside her, to repay what words could not. When the time came, he donned armour not to be a saviour… but a shield.

He became a Crusader.

Now, fire rains from the sky. The ground splits open with demonic roars. Diablo, risen again, strides through ruin and screams, his fury eclipsing all light.

And she is there.

The Necromancer stands in the storm’s heart, her spells fracturing the air, bone beasts swarming like shadows under her command. But even her power has its limit.

She falters. The air shudders. Diablo raises a claw wreathed in flame—death meant not for her minions, but for her.

And then—he is there.

His shield slams into the blow with a crash that splits the silence. Holy light explodes outward, halting the demon’s strike.

The Necromancer turns, eyes wide—not with fear, but disbelief.

He meets her gaze, grinning under his helm, eyes bright with fire and something he’d never admit aloud.

“I owed you one.”

She stares for a breath longer than she ever should have.

“…You should have run.”

“Couldn’t.” His hammer glows with radiant power. “Didn’t want to.”

They stand together—life and death, bone and light, opposites forged by fate. And as Diablo roars, they charge.

He does not know if she will ever thank him.

But in this war, standing beside her again…

He does not need her to.

....The sky cracked with red lightning. The ground bled molten fire. Diablo stood—titanic, snarling, his eyes twin furnaces of malice—as the Necromancer and the Crusader faced him beneath the shattered spires of the Black Cathedral.

"COME THEN!" Diablo roared, his voice a cataclysm, shaking the bones of the world. "TASTE ANNIHILATION!"

And they did not falter.

She moved first—cloak billowing, hands casting ancient, unspeakable sigils. The ground groaned, split—and rose. Rotten fists punched through scorched earth, dragging fetid bodies from their shallow sleep. Her army of the dead staggered forward, dozens of undead snarling with ragged teeth. Her skeletal golem—massive, rust-stained, and chained to her will—charged like a siege beast, slamming into the demon's leg with bone-crushing force.

Then came the poison—green, hissing, a wave of necrotic gas that curled around Diablo's hide. His armour smoked, skin blistered. He shrieked.

From the opposite side, the Crusader raised his banner—and light screamed from the heavens. His holy beam, pure and searing, lanced straight through Diablo’s wing. Black blood spilled like oil, sizzling as it hit the dirt.

"By the Light—bleed, monster!" he roared, driving his Shield Glare into the demon’s eyes. Diablo staggered, snarling—but not defeated.

"RISE!" Diablo bellowed, and the shadows obeyed. The Fanged Flayer, a venomous beast with eyes like coals and claws like scythes, leapt from the abyss, followed by an onslaught of demonic soldiers, blades gleaming and howls echoing.

The Crusader turned to meet them—but his hammer cracked mid-swing. Too many. Too fast.

And then—her golem took the blow. It burst apart in a flash of brittle bone, shielding the Crusader. She stood behind him, cold eyes blazing.

“Don’t die, paladin. I’m not done using you.”

He laughed breathlessly, bloodied and grinning.

“You almost sound like you’d miss me.”

Together, they pushed forward.

He guarded her with his shield as she raised more dead from the battlefield itself—reclaiming Diablo’s own fallen pawns, turning them against him.

She targeted the Fanged Layer with a plague of spirits, unravelling it from within. He crushed demon soldiers beneath blessed strikes, his aura amplifying her decay—each death feeding her power.

Finally, with Diablo weakened, snarling, fire dripping from his mouth like molten hate, they stood side by side.

“Now,” she whispered.

He lifted his shield. She placed her hand on it—and her necrotic energy coiled around his holy light, corrupt and pure twisting together.

They charged.

Diablo swung, but they were faster—his blade crashing into her wall of bone, her spell igniting with his sanctified fury.

And then—the final strike.

She cast forth her last spell, the Mark of Death, searing Diablo’s chest with a black sigil. He staggered—

—and the Crusader drove his hammer into the mark, light pouring through it like sunlight through a shattered window.

Diablo screamed.

Not in rage. In defeat.

He collapsed, burning from the inside out—his body crumbling, limbs thrashing until only ash remained.

And in the silence that followed, the two stood together—heaving, bloodied, eyes locked.

“I didn’t think we’d win,” he said.

She didn’t reply. Just looked at him, something unreadable in her frozen gaze.

Then, softly—barely audible over the wind—

“When death walks with light… even Hell must kneel.”

Found this little stargazing story when I needed it most 🌌

[The Grumpy Star Who Forgot How to Shine]

Once, in a far corner of the cosmos, there was a small star named Luma. She used to glow so brightly that planets would orbit just to bask in her warmth. But one day, she woke up feeling… heavy. Her light dimmed to a flicker, and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't shine.

The other stars whispered about her: “Is she broken?” “Maybe she’s just being lazy.” Luma grew grumpier by the hour. “Why can’t they just leave me alone?” she muttered, pulling a cloud over herself like a blanket.

One night, a tiny, wobbly comet named Cosmo crashed into her cloud. “S-sorry!” Cosmo stammered, his tail sparking nervously. “I’m bad at directions… and existing.”

Luma scowled. “Go away. I’m not in the mood for comets, especially if they bump into me.”

But Cosmo stayed. Not because he was brave—he was *terrified*—but because he noticed something: Luma’s faint glow turned a little warmer when she sighed.

“What’s… wrong?” he asked, awkwardly.

“Everything,” Luma grumbled. “I’m supposed to shine, but I can’t. I’m just… a failed star.”

Cosmo blinked. “But… you’re still you. Shine or no shine.”

Luma rolled her eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re literally made of sparkles.”

“Yeah, but I crash into things all the time,” Cosmo said, his voice cracking. “My siblings call me ‘Cosmic Disaster.’ But… I like my weird path. It’s mine.”

Luma peeked out from her cloud. “…Really?” She had wanted to give him some sort of dead-panned kind of look but it was turned to🥺 at the last second.

“Yep,”Cosmo said, spinning in a clumsy loop. “Wanna see me mess up the Big Dipper?”

Against her will, Luma laughed—a tiny *huff* that sent a ripple of silver light through the dark.

They spent nights like that: Cosmo telling terrible jokes, Luma grumbling but secretly savoring the company. Slowly, she stopped trying to “fix” her light. Instead, she let herself just *be*—a star wrapped in clouds, flickering when she felt like it, resting when she didn’t.

And one day, without even noticing, Luma began to glow again. Not the blazing light she once had, but something softer… kinder.

The other stars still gossip, but Cosmo doesn’t care. He brings her space-dust snacks and calls her “The Comfiest Star in the Galaxy.” And maybe just the coolest too, she just does'nt take credit for it yet.

And Luma? She’s okay with that.

possibly the best thing ive seen on the internet tday

just got back into gardening so i’ve forgotten. are basil leaves supposed to be this big

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

they're waiting for grunkle stan to pick them up

If he had one more crow, I'd definitely join him

Ref.