#--and is left with the knowledge that they were simply left behind. they serve no greater power in their attempted (intellectual) conquest-

[beeapocalypse]

AH i havent talked abt the frontierists here have i. very secretive sect of alamanni humans looking into Dreamed Realities (pocket realities born by dreams- the purposeful creation of them by eldritch deities Is possible but is also considered way blasphemous. near every dreamed reality by alamanni folk is born of essentially the most advanced form of maladaptive daydreaming possible and is unintentional. way hard to discern between them and real vivid Normal dreams). humanitys predecessors (taught the secret of intentionally dreaming up new lands by a select few eldritch beasties seeking refuge from the rest) sought refuge in a dreamed reality to get away from both the incessant typically deadly curiosity of the vast majority of eldritch deities and their incredibly shit living situation (forced into subterranean living bc of the whole corpse of the existence dragon and all of its curious parasites hanging up in the sky staring down at them, resources running low over the years with them unable to leave for more bc of the venettes- already sentient animals transformed into more human shapes by the eldritch in an attempt to get closer to that hidden race) and their shed mortal bodies upon successful exodus became the first humans so theyve got this tiny innate knack for intentional exploration that other alamanni folk dont. through the gathering of just abt every bit of still surviving texts on dreamed realities (WAY sparse, both thru the passage of time + the fact that those first eldritch deities desperate enough to part with such secrets were long killed by their more pious fellows), the frontierists understand the mechanics of it all Just enough to be able to deliberately enter and explore this 'final frontier' which they seek to put to page and Conquer

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.05 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Extraordinary Labor by Miershooptier [E, 259k]

►Set long after the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy is abruptly and unwillingly called home after spending the last twenty years living and studying abroad. It seems that there are things at Malfoy Manor which need to be put to rest, and the Ministry of Magic has determined that as the sole remaining Malfoy by blood, Draco is the only one who can do it. But curse breaking is not Draco’s area of expertise, and so the Ministry has found someone willing to help.

2. Saviour by @whumpitlikeyoumeanit [E, 204k]  *typo

►Several years post-War, Draco is found wandering, incoherent, and ill, in the aftermath of an extended bout of the Imperius curse. Harry Potter brings him into his home to protect him while the rest of the world thinks he's dead.

3. A Dark and Savage Magic by @tessacrowley [E, 124k]

►They say that the earliest spells were cast without wands, that they were bargains made with the earth. They say that the magic was theoretically limitless, equal only to the price the caster was willing to pay, strong enough to move mountains and reshape the sky. They say that omegas were pioneers of that magic, its scholars and its stewards. But that was many thousands of years ago. Ages have come and gone since the last of the druids drew breath. Their knowledge, and their power, has slipped from history to legend, from legend to myth. Omegas are now an underclass, and druids a relic of an idealized but unattainable past. Draco Malfoy, an omega himself, has a natural skill in the old magic that will do him no favors.

4. The Rehabilitation of Draco Malfoy by sayschu [E, 119k]

►Harry Potter spent the first year post-war being the hero everyone needed. Draco Malfoy was abandoned in Azkaban, where a plot to punish Death Eaters has left him more vulnerable than ever. Now they're both returning to Hogwarts, and while Harry aches for a connection, Malfoy can't bear to be touched.

5. Mute series by Wendy_Noire [T, 106k, 2 works]

►While the wizarding world were led to believe that Harry Potter was treated like a prince, the reality was much worse. It was a shock for Draco to realise the other 11 year old in Madame Malkins' wasn't simply uninterested in him, but couldn't speak. He was even more shocked to discover that this child was none other than Harry Potter, someone he had been expecting to be as cocky as Snape had told him James was, not this small, shy, mute boy. From that moment on, Draco swore to himself that he would protect the smaller of the two, even if his parents disagreed with his decision.

6. Follies of an Ornamental Hermit by @mallstars --- ART by @itsphantasmagoria​ [E, 103k]

►Potter still wasn't looking at him. Instead he faced the windows, watching the snow and the sunless sea. Behind the welcome desk, standing tall amidst the wisdom and glistening magic, Draco controlled the spheres of restless light and the flustered books, all with gentle flicks of a wand that had once served Potter without a beat of hesitation. If Potter were to look, Draco would be ready. He had a right to be here. The library was his, if only after hours.

7. Harry & The Slytherin Six by @youhavemyswordandmybow [M, 100k]

►Three things happened after the war. Hermione lost her memory. Ron didn’t handle it well, started to wear lots of black, work-out relentlessly, fix up Sirius’s motorbike and sleep around. And Harry let homeless, ex-con Slytherins move in with him until their homes and Gringotts accounts were released. Because, he's a f--ing idiot. Oh, and Andromeda made him take parental classes - in order for him to have Teddy overnight.

8. Protego Obscurial by @sightedkarma [E, 90k]

►As the Founder of Protego Maxima, the top-rated Mixed Magical Security Firm in England, Harry is a busy man. He has a policy that states he no longer takes on clients personally, as he, Ron and Hermione continue to grow the business. So when Pansy Parkinson appears in his office requesting he takes on a special case, one would think he would reject her. You would be right, if that special case didn't include a huge donation to his charity and the opportunity to work with his favorite band. But when he finds out just how familiar the men behind those masks are and how personal this case will be, he may wish he had stuck to policy.

9. An Exercise In Forgiveness by @pepperpaperpopper​ [M, 74k]

►Seven apologies in seven years. A down and out Draco is on a quest to become a better man while trying to find his moral compass. Meanwhile, Harry struggles with regret and resentment and is unable to leave the war behind. Can they find grace and forgiveness? [...]

10. The Future Is Guaranteed by iima_k [T, 40k]

►Over two years ago, Harry and Draco made big life changes: Harry moved away and Draco ended his marriage. Now pessimistic about life, a chance meeting has them learning about love, purpose, and family. For once, they begin to honestly question, what is it that they want?

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

At least I'm trying. by carelesspeaches [E, 17k]

An Eight-Headed Snake by Otherain [T, 30k]

Goodbye Pond by @handledwithgloves [G, 18k]

How do you spell ‘love’? You don’t spell it…you feel it. by skotini [T, 20k]

How to live with Malfoy by ProseMary [T, 16k]

Mordax Afectium by maxallover [M, 14k]

The Risk of Falling by @siobhanhazel [T, 19k]

Tastes Like Commitment by Reloumi [E, 21k]

The Third Son series by Runner3434 [E, 31k, 3 works]

Walked In and Dream Came Trued It for Ya by CheatsatUNO [G, 12k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

HD Mpreg 2024 | @harrydracompreg

Lights Camera Drarry 2024 | @lcdrarry

[raainberry]

Cross The Line - I

«��It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. »

Mina x gn!reader

synopsis - if you promise not to step foot in her hospital again, the line disappears, right?

wordcount - 3K

T/W - resident!mina x fighter!reader. mentions of violence, injuries, food. (reader is involved in an underground fight club) medical environment. angst for now and dahyun guest starring😎

A/N - i have decided to make this into a movie. it serves as a prologue to the series but tbh i feel like you can get it without it if you want. Enjoy!

You don’t know if she noticed you.

The minutes passed by, and so did she; a few times. You watched from your seat as you waited for your name to be called, various scenes from silly incidents to more serious ones, old people to kids...

The place was bustling, you could feel your head getting heavier, only keeping it up just in case Mina appeared. She seemed busy, focused. She must have a lot on her mind.

How selfish would it be to wish you were on it too?

You wondered, feeling the familiar tug at your heart when she took the time to reassure a little girl across the room. You could make out the tears staining her cheeks despite how far you were sitting, and witnessed how quickly they dried up under Mina’s gentle voice.

How wrong would it be to feel jealous?

You shook the ridiculous thought away, just in time to hear your name finally get called out. The voice was familiar, but not the one you were hoping for. Sweet, but not enough.

Your gaze left Mina’s figure to meet her dear friend’s, a nurse you’d gotten to know more than the one you heart longed for. She let you call her by her name, but only if you promised not to overstep the set of obvious boundaries that came with it.

You gave your word, although it was tempting to take it back. Everytime Dahyun assisted in your care, you fought the need to ask her anything about Mina. You only faltered once, anesthesia having gotten the best of you after a long set of stitches.

You had the decency to wait until Mina stepped out of the room before asking about her love life. That’s how Dahyun came to know of this… mess of emotions between the two of you.

She never answered you, but she did have questions to which she tried to pull the answers to from Mina herself a few hours later.

Nearly a year later now, and she was still trying. Pieced a few of them together over time and rare, quiet wine drunken nights, but it was nowhere near enough to uncover the reasons.

The ones behind your visits, not your interest in her best friend. She has glasses but she’s not blind.

Although she did wonder what still had you so hung up after years.

If you knew yourself, you probably wouldn’t be in this mess.

“Do you guys have lunch breaks?" Your voice was quiet in an attempt to conceal how awkward you felt.

You were sat on a similar table as your last time here, only surrounded by proper walls this time. Still as blank and unstimulating, letting your mind roam free and back to Mina.

Dahyun paused in her tasks.

This was her third time seeing you, and it was the first time you’d spoken to her without her needing to pull the words out of you.

She cleared her throat, setting down the tools she’d just used to get your cast off. "We do.” She answered hesitantly. “Why wouldn't we?"

The room fell silent once again as you gazed at your weakened arm, turning her question rhetorical. Dahyun only chuckled at the sight before offering some reassurance, "I'm going to show you a few rehabilitation exercises. Your arm will be back to normal in no time."

You simply nodded, your eyes glued to the foreign feeling in your limb. "Do I need to rest it?"

Dahyun’s eyebrows furrowed at your question, but kept her curiosity to herself. Not everyone has her knowledge, she tended to forget it so she cut you some slack although something in her itched to be nosy.

She watched as you tentatively moved your arm, clenching your fist as if trying to regain familiarity with it. "Just avoid putting excessive strain on it.” She finally said, causing you to stop. “No intense use for a couple of weeks, and it should be fine."

"A couple weeks..." You muttered. This wasn’t good. Money was getting short. “Can I have some paper and a pen?”

It was getting hard to do, but Dahyun concealed her confusion again before fulfilling your request, observing as you used your weakened hand to scribble something barely legible.

“Does that count as exercise?" You playfully questioned, causing Dahyun to chuckle.

“It could, yeah." She nodded and you smiled, glancing back at your writing before handing it to her.

“Hopefully she can read it.”

You don’t need to say anything else. Not even her name. Dahyun knew who you were referring to.

You were sure of it, but she managed to make you second guess - yourself and your own intentions - when she tensed up in front of you.

Her hand didn’t reach for the piece you offered of yourself. As futile and impersonal as it was, you couldn’t help but take offense at her doubts.

“Please.” You muttered. It was pathetic. It felt like it too. But it was worth the discomfort if it meant convincing the woman standing before you. Her silence was painful, it almost made you laugh. She wasn’t even the one you were trying to reach.

Were you even allowed to feel so troubled yet?

Rightfully so. Dahyun took forever to make up her mind, staring long enough for your arm to fatigue.

Part of her didn’t want to enable and push her best friend into what looked like a hopeless abyss. Mina deserved much more. She deserved something safer, easier than whatever you brought to the table.

Then again this wasn’t her place to say. This wasn’t her game to play.

She just hoped Mina wouldn’t dismiss its risks.

—

Mina looked down at the paper in her hand, her features tensed in a mix of surprise and apprehension as she processed the words she’d managed to decipher.

« I’ll try really hard not to visit ever again, so if you ever miss me and have a moment to spare : xx xxx xxx. »

She took the numbers in as they slowly burned themselves into her mind. She tried to suppress that small hope within her as it prayed you’d written them well enough.

Needless to say it was a vain attempt. Her thoughts were scattered and she struggled to compose herself.

“What are you going to do?" Dahyun's voice broke an eerie silence that had settled itself in the break room, and Mina exhaled softly, her gaze lingering on your message.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, meeting Dahyun’s eyes. "It's complicated, you know that."

Dahyun nodded, understanding. Or at least she hoped it came across as because quite frankly she had no idea.

It was complicated, yes, but for her, the next step was a no-brainer.

"Maybe it's worth considering," she offered, her words gentle. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

That pulled a chuckle out of the black haired woman next to her. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, but someone who needs to be stitched up every few months can’t not be involved in something dumb or careless.” Dahyun pointed out, but it only amused Mina even more. “I’m serious.” The nurse chuckled despite herself, “Something’s not right.”

“I can take care of myself.” Mina reassured, “I’m sure it’s nothing too bad. Careless maybe, but not dumb either.”

“How would you know?” Dahyun probed as Mina piqued at the nosiest part of her.

Mina only shrugged though, considering the paper in her hand. The weight of your message briefly pulled her thoughts back to the unspoken moments, the lingering emotions that built and shaped this odd link between the two of you.

"Just a feeling.”

—

“Looking to kill your winning streak?”

The coach’s voice resonated in the warehouse and you huffed out a breath, keeping your eyes from rolling back into your brain only to look at him instead. “What are you being so shy for? Hit it, damn it!”

You stayed silent, your jaw clenched shut to keep the thoughts in your head. The punching bag still swung back and forth behind you as you reached for the small bottle of water he was handing you.

The small ‘thank you’ you mumbled was enough for him to get off your back about respect and whatnot, but he still clung onto it about your arm.

“It’s been weeks, Y/n, you’ve had plenty of time to recover, come on…” He said, opting for a more gentle approach.

The switch up didn’t surprise you. He wasn’t exactly stable, but he was good at his job. Good enough to run this whole thing smoothly. You’d respect him if he weren’t so corrupt, pulling at big kids desperate enough for life to ruin it for them. People like you. Exposing them, showing them off in a violent spectacle only the richest could afford to enjoy.

The scheme was vicious. Designed to make staying in the only way out. To make him the only one you could turn to when life’s biggest troubles got too big to ignore.

He knew you well enough by now to know the gentle card wouldn’t work, but that’s also how he knew he had to give it a shot anyway. If not take action, you could open up.

You could, but you wouldn’t. Not to him. Your relationship didn’t allow it, as much as he tried to shape it that way over the years. Not that he was pushing it, he was decently nice. He cared. Just not enough.

You could feel it in the way he watched you, silent while his eyes questioned whatever you did he didn’t understand - which was almost always linked to whatever didn’t fill his pockets.

The edge of the ring pushed into your thighs as you took a seat there, staring into the space in front of you. Your gaze was vacant, you could feel yourself zone out, thoughts begging to drown into your heart and its selfish desire to burn over Mina’s absence; but the coach shaking his head kept you over the surface.

Seeing you space out was new, but he didn’t like how familiar the sight was getting.

You expected his rough tone to spit at you any second, but he surprisingly stayed calm. Too calm. So your eyes left the void to check on him, and his demeanor was all but reassuring.

You could feel his impatience grow by the second, the frustration practically radiating from him was off-putting, but the silence… It was as scary as it was encouraging.

“I need more time.” You finally said.

The words didn’t please him. They didn’t make you happy either. You’d love to be able to hit that bag as you used to just months ago.

“We can’t do that. People are damn near jumping the fence to see you fight, Y/n, you have to come back.”

“They’ll be fine.” You brushed off, feeling the guilt slowly weigh off your shoulders at the desperation in his voice. Something about hearing him beg, even implicitly.

You suddenly rose to your feet, feeling yourself growing wings as you clung onto the third rope of the ring. Entertaining the conversation seemed pointless, so you turned your back on him to get back to training. Something he made sure to prove as a mistake... He didn’t hesitate to burn those wings at the first sight of them.

He never did.

“But you won’t.” You heard him say. The words were heavy, probably because of how fast he’d thrown them at you.

Your features twitched, eyebrows creasing as you tried to argue, “I’m not ready.”

The weakness was bitter, obvious and unfair. Unfitting for a moneymaker like you. If anything you should be the one dictating things.

Yet he somehow always kept the reigns.

“You never were.”

—

His last words ran laps in your mind.

As hard as you tried to alter their course, nothing seemed to stop them. Nothing seemed to change.

The following days melted into themselves, fogging your memory with nothing but defeat.

You felt disoriented. Hopeless. Hurt. Yet somewhat motivated by it all. Problem was you had no goal to put it into.

This fighting thing proved itself to be nothing but a fickle string of glory. A glory you failed to even enjoy. Sure, the underground and illegal part of it didn’t help, but everyone around you seemed to do just fine.

Maybe you’ll ask them about it tomorrow. How they do it. For now you paced around the room, searching for a solution, only for your brain to come up with thoughts of her. You’d long passed the point of it being and feeling pathetic, surrendering to the insanity of the situation. Your soul yearned for the sense of peace she brought with her mere presence, and her absence was suffocating.

Why? It’s not like you were close. All she did was flirt back, it was no reason to get so attached.

You felt insane. Out of mind. All because of that bridge you’d humiliated yourself into trying to hold together.

Maybe giving her your number was a mistake. Maybe you’d have been better off keeping your distance.

Crossing those rarely ever was good.

—

Later that day, your apartment was cloaked in a hushed ambiance, the only source of light emanating from the soft glow of the TV screen as you absently filled up on what felt like a last meal.

A light, protein heavy collation you had no pleasure in swallowing. The only reason you were doing so was not to pass out mid-fight the next day.

You couldn’t go back to her. Not there.

So you folded into the old routine, only finding comfort in your favorite show playing in the background. It was a nice, fleeting distraction from the weight of your impending return to the fight club.

The night was slowly falling silent outside your walls. Your plate emptied itself slowly as episodes followed each other with few breaks in between. You nearly fell asleep from the monotony of it all, but the sound of your phone vibrating against the table jolted you back to full consciousness.

The screen had lit itself up, drawing your attention to the screen. An unknown number and a message that only made sense after connecting a few dots.

« I have a moment. »

Mina's words, a lifeline in the midst of this mounting anxiety.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your feelings pulling them down to write and erase every word that came to mind before settling on a much simpler approach.

« Would you mind if I called? »

On the other side of the screen, Mina’s heart fluttered much to her dismay. Needless to say she was apprehensive, eyes fixated on your text while its content resonated in her mind. It stirred a few feelings she’d kept away and guarded for far too long now.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to, but she knew she had to try. She owed it to herself. She’d risked too much, jeopardized too much of her sanity over you to leave without answers.

So she called.

This type of adrenaline was nothing compared to the one you got in the ring. The ring, it was cold. Chilling. The things you did, that you’ve done to get to where you were… It was a rush you were getting used to.

This one was different. Warm. Thrilling. It was new. A rush you looked forward to. No matter how much you denied yourself it.

“Hello?” You spoke into the phone after raising it to your ear. The line was silent for a second before you heard the soft timbre of her voice greeting you back.

Three weeks was the shortest time you’d gone without hearing it yet there you were; practically giggling to yourself over the few words you managed to exchange. The first ones that didn’t revolve around an injury or her scolding you for using her first name.

You made sure not to use it though, as you told her about this colorful place you liked to hang at. It wasn’t the most vibrant, but you found the atmosphere to be fitting for a talk. Cute even, if you’d dared to say.

Mina couldn’t help the flutter of her heart, the burning in her veins traveling all the way to her cheeks as she listened to you trying not to stutter over your words as you basically asked her out.

She could - and she would - have agreed to meet you in the following second, but something held her back, unlike the words pouring out of her mouth with no control, “Sounds lovely. But I don’t know…”

A small silence took over the line as you thought, “What… do you mean you don’t know?”

“It’s just that…” Mina sighed, “The hospital—”

“I’m not a patient anymore, Mina.” You cut her off, desperately clinging onto the small opening. Mina could sense that, letting her frustration slip into her tone.

“Yes, but for how long?” Another silence. Heavier this time. Longer. “We can’t know, right?”

Mina’s voice rung through the line, startling a thought you’d been dying to voice out to her.

“You can’t, but you do know something.”

“What?”

“You know exactly why I can’t make sure to never come back.” You partially confessed in hopes she would understand. “Don’t act dumber than you are, Dr. Mina.”

“That’s the thing, Y/n. I’m not.” She sighed. “I’m not. I don’t know why you show up in such states, I shouldn’t want to know as bad as I do, but something about you makes me—”

Mina stopped herself, realizing what her words were leading to. Somewhere a little too real and raw too quickly. She fought the tears begging to relieve her frustrations, and opted for another sigh. One soft, barely noticeable and far too weak to have any effect on her state of mind.

“It feels like I’m playing with fire.”

For the first time since you’d heard it, the sound of her voice hurt. You could tell how much it cost her to say those words. Just above a whisper, tainted by the shadows of her unshed tears. Ever so softly, like it would glide over the lines, the cracks staining the distance and reach you with no consequences.

“Listen…” You started. “I know you’ve been… curious about me. I know you’ve made your guesses, your bets, and I don’t know what those are. I can’t say I don’t care, because I do, but I have enough self-awareness to know they’re not the most positive.”

You paused in order to gather your thoughts. The next words you’d utter felt like the most important of your life. How worthless had it been… “I feel crazy just asking you this - I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but… I just want to see you. Talk to you, anything that’s not you fixing me up.”

There was a small silence again. It’s agonizing, not being able to tell where this was going. All you could do was wait. You were tired of it but it was suddenly worth it all. The pain, the silence, the longing. The quiet tears you let go off in the dark, the memories and wonders of her gentle soul tormenting you days after your stays.

“I want to see you too.”

[ayufufu]

OnionThief x Rival!MC

Word Count: 4368

Summary:  In which OnionThief and his rival get paired up for a project.  But for the first time, he gets to see what it’s like for them behind the scenes of their bratty know-it-all personality (basically academic burnout).

Author’s Note:  Started sometime in 2020, finished April 5th, 2024.  I present the sassy, probably out-of-character, OnionThief and his little rival.  Trust, it’s been like 3 years since I’ve played this game.  Oh lord am I out of touch with this fandom.  It is buried within me right now.  But hey, finished writing.  I am proud of the beginning half, the ending might not be it though. 

“Eat shit and die.”

“Yes, fuck you.”  These whispers flew past surrounding peers, already used to overhearing this type of bickering between the pair.  It was never truly clear how it began.  They tested each other’s knowledge, butting heads every year since high school.  Y/N and Onionthief simply found each other insufferable, their hostility seemed to intensify when they found out they applied to the same college.  It was as though they were water and oil, never being able to mix well.  The professors chose to pay no mind since both were still excelling.  Their grades were incredibly high, scores screaming in pain at the height they were reaching, extra credit opportunities never wasted.

“You’re all dismissed, please remember to review pages 556 to 590 for next week.”  The class let out dim cheers, the sounds of paper rustling, bags zipping, and peers exchanging words filling the large room.  As Y/N finished packing their last item away, they rushed straight to the door.  Walking to the outside of campus, they made a mental to-do list.  Assignments were beginning to pile up, but Winter break was right there.  Couldn’t stop now.

“Move,” Onion’s voice rang out as he shoved his shoulder into theirs harshly, a scoff coming from them as they’re broken from their thoughts.

“I wasn’t aware the 15 feet of space around me was nonexistent,” Y/N spat.  Their eyes followed his back as he continued his fast pace without a word.  Unbelievable.  Turning to walk the other direction, the sounds of their peers filled their ears.  Silently restarting their to-do list, the sounds became a blur.  The walk to their apartment was a routine, passing the different trees and couples before reaching the bridge.  Rushing across, the sounds of another pair of footsteps flooded their ears.  

“So you’ve resorted to stalking me,” Onion sneered.  Y/N turned around, head flooded with annoyance.

“I live here, you’re aware of that.” “Right.”  He walked over to the bridge pulling a small bottle from his pocket.  Y/N watched curiously as he tipped it over the edge and shook it a bit.  Realizing he was feeding the fish, Y/N walked off, bag bouncing with each step.  The eyes following them were left unnoticed, the sounds of class echoing in their mind all the way to their desk.

“I mentioned at the beginning of the year that there will be one major partner assignment in this class, serving as our midterm final.”  Groans and whispers of cheers filled the room, peers feeling dreadful while others spotted friends across the room.  Y/N sighed, head resting in their arms.  Glad he’s at least sitting somewhere else.  

“Alright, settle down.  These partners will be assigned by your latest test scores.”  Right...  Y/N clicked their pen impatiently, feeling the metal between their fingers, more sounds of displeasure filling the room.  The teacher droned on about the details of the project, explaining how lower scores would be assigned tutors for their projects.

“Let’s start with the highest scores shall we?”  They sat up.

“Y/N and—” Clack.  The sound of the pen hitting the table drew the attention of a few surrounding classmates, but Y/N didn’t even take notice.

“You two don’t need a tutor so you’ll be able to view the project details online. Now for…”  He was their partner.  For once, a teacher decided to pair them up.  They sat through the rest of the class, every word flowing through their ears and out the other.  Nothing was staying put into their mind.  I just had to be paired with such an insufferable… Shaking their head, they heard the professor dismiss them.

“Well, I guess I’m ready to fail this assignment.” And there he is.  They began packing their stuff, shoving the items in the bag messily.

“Same here, you’ll just drag down my grade even if we did try.”

“Right, what was this worth again, 50%?”  Y/N stopped their aggressive packing at this.

“Where did you get that this was 50%?” “Read the details dumbass,” he passed his phone to them.  Their eyes skimmed over the details, the 50 percent and “due in 10 days” standing out from everything else.  The phone was plucked out of their hands as he smirked, tucking it away.  He left the room, Y/N trailing behind.  They couldn’t just skip the assignment, their hard-earned A+ would easily drop in just one month.  Onion tried his best not to notice the footsteps behind him, knowing it was them.  He held back chuckles as he wondered how long they’d follow him.

“Hey shallot-head,” Y/N called.  He hummed in acknowledgment, but he still didn’t change pace or look their way.  Y/N was starting to struggle to keep up the pace, always one step or two behind from walking next to him, not noticing the smirk he was hiding.  They finally huffed before grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him completely.  He halted at the sudden pressure, a smirk forming a look of surprise while Y/N rushed to face him.

“Listen shallot, I can’t afford to skip this assignment.”  He cocked an eyebrow at this.

“The Y/N cannot afford to skip this assignment?  I’m sure you can lose half of your grade, still pass, and I would be able to avoid your ridiculously low IQ.”  Their head felt hot at the sound of his ridiculing.

“I need to pass this assignment.  I can do the work, but you just need to revise some parts to look like it’s yours,”  Y/N pleaded.  He seemed to ponder the options, putting his chin between his fingers.

“No.”  He turned to leave. “Wait– I offer instant miso!”  His head perked up.

“Green onions too, plus I’ll throw in extra tofu.”  He grabbed Y/N’s wrist roughly before beginning to drag them to the apartment in a rush, Y/N struggling once more to keep up, relief washing their body.

“I need to stop here for a moment.”  He approached the bridge again, the same bottle as before in his hand.  Y/N watched him shake the bottle once more, fish crowding the area again.  He turned back to them before nodding and walking to the complex, Y/N tailing after.  Once they called the elevator, awkward silence surrounded them.  For the first time since they began their walk (run) back, tension swallowed them whole, arms and legs aching from arduous journeys across campus and poor posture in class.

Y/N stepped into the elevator first, clicking the third-floor button once Onion stepped in.  They side-eyed him, taking in his tense yet relaxed state.  Y/N willed themselves to relax their stiff body while the elevator doors spread open.

“Do you need anything from your room or are you good to go,” Y/N asked, adjusting the bag on their back.  

“I don’t need anything else.  I bring all my work necessities with me”  They nodded at his response before putting in their pin and unlocking the door.  They walked straight in, putting away their necessities, shoes by the door, and water bottle on the table.

“Right, um, you could set up in the kitchen while I make your miso?”  Onion nodded and began to set his stuff on the chair next to Y/N’s stuff while they began putting a pot of water on the stove.  As Onion began pulling out his laptop and notes, he stared at Y/N’s back while they shuffled around the kitchen grabbing things out of cabinets and drawers.  His brows furrowed in annoyance at the unwanted presence, punching his laptop code in with more pressure.

“Don’t you have a desk?”  Onion sighed at the environment.  

“I do, but it only fits me.  I didn’t plan on having anyone study at my apartment until now.”  The instant miso powder hit the boiling water, the aroma filling the room, the silence of their voices following.  Bubbling water and mouse clicks were the only things heard for a few more minutes, the atmosphere stiff.  Eventually, two bowls of miso, two laptops, two notebooks, and two comp sci students were positioned at the table.  

“So, let’s test the limits of your stupidity.” “...I literally have a higher score than you.”

“Ok, and?” Y/N leaned back in their chair.  They barely even started, the soup still steaming, but their bickering was starting up once more.

“I’m just saying, that B in algorithms seems to say something about you.”  Harshly sighing, Y/N tipped their head back to the ceiling, their eyes tracing the patterns in the material.

“If you don’t pay attention I will chug this miso and leave.”  They snapped their head towards him.  They sat up and positioned their arms to type before realizing they hadn’t even read all of the assignment details yet.  This was going to be a long month.

10 days.

“No dumbass, this is supposed to be–” “No it isn’t, what the hell?”

“Are you denying the truth? “I am denying what is clearly wrong.” “Look at my notes, it’s right!”  Y/N shoved their notes in Onion’s face.  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, his eyes scanned the text.  After a minute or so, he sighed.

“Your notes are wrong.”  Their eyes widened when Onion handed his own notes to them before rereading their notes with a confused expression.  Onion had wanted to work on homework before continuing the project to make sure their (mostly his) grades didn’t drop.  Upon looking at their notes from the day, their professor's words filled their brain again.  They couldn’t stop the disappointment from filling their face, a frown settling on their features.  Since they were so sure they were right, they didn’t think their understanding of the topic was off.  Onionthief observed their down face, an expression he seldom saw.

8 days.

“I couldn’t grab extra tofu last time I went out for groceries.”  Y/N set the bowls down carefully, taking their seat right after.  Onion didn’t budge, opting to continue typing away at his laptop.  At the lack of response, they cocked an eyebrow.  They thought he’d throw a fit, but surprisingly he stayed put.  Y/N sighed before opening up their work yet again, shoulders aching.  Onion stayed true to the deal, opting to revise the parts Y/N laid out for him while continuing his homework from other classes.  At the lack of help and the burden of other classes on their mind, Y/N could feel the shadows of burnout waiting to envelop them.  After this, they were prepared to let their bed swallow them whole.

6 days.

“Hey, this is still wrong.”  Y/N’s head jerked up from the part of the project they were currently typing out.  Onion observed them as they rapidly scrolled to where he was viewing.  It was an entry from the beginning of the project.  A part that affected the rest of the work.  Deeply sighing, the monotone voice in their head began reading again.  Despite rereading it constantly, nothing was sticking.  It was as though the words didn’t exist.  At the lack of response from Y/N after a good few minutes, Onion huffed before highlighting the mistake in the text.

“Oh.”  It was all they could let out at the moment.  Despite the sentence highlighted, the information wasn’t processed in their head.  Their face scrunched up at the hotness filling their head.  The sight made an unfamiliar feeling rise in Onion.  He breathed out harshly before deleting the sentence, correcting it himself.  If it wasn’t for the silence in the kitchen, he doubted he’d ever hear the quiet ‘thanks’ they let out.  He froze at the appreciation, the sound of it unfamiliar from them.  The hell do they mean ‘thanks’?

5 days.

The project was still unfinished, the amount of work left taunting Y/N as they were left staring at the blank screen yet again.  The homework had already seemed to have drained them, but they refused to call it a night yet.  Their miso bowl was cold, the ingredients settling to the bottom.  Onion had already finished his homework and revised the parts of the project he was given.  Now, he seemed to be collecting data on some fantasy web novel.  Rubbing their temple, Y/N shut their laptop despite having never even opened the project yet.  Their brain was on overdrive, the workload invading their mind and trying to push them to work.  Despite their efforts, Y/N just couldn’t bring themself to even pretend they could work, their gaze burning holes in the back of Onion’s laptop.

“Are you finally done with the project,” Onion blurted out, eyes not leaving his screen.  No answer.  Glancing over the top of his laptop, his eyes were met with Y/N’s drained demeanor.  As his gaze wandered over their face, it soon traveled to the untouched bowl on the side.  Adjusting his glasses, he shut down his laptop after saving his work, the sudden movement making Y/N jump.  He leaned forward, chin resting against the back of his hands.

“Do you need help?” “Why the fuck are you asking like that–” “I’m just asking.” “Yes, but what’s with that pose, you look dramatic.”  Onion’s confused face became deadpan at the comment.  He opened his mouth to let out a snarky remark before Y/N got up abruptly.  He watched as they trudged over to their room, the door shutting softly behind them as a muffled thud was heard.

3 days.

Y/N hasn’t emerged from their room since yesterday, the silence in class left everyone dumbfounded as Onion continued on with his day-to-day classes in silence.  Yet as the day came to an end, he found himself in front of the same door he’s gone to for the past 19 days.  What do I even say?  Why am I here? They didn’t say they’d work on the project today.  His hand raised for the buzzer.  

“Coming…”  Dull. A very dull voice.  “Come on in, miso’s in the pot.  I’ll be in my room laying down, we can just do it tomorrow or something.”

“But that would put us–”

“Behind schedule I know, shut up.  Please.”  He frowned at their small pleading.  I don’t like that they have to plead.  “If you want to you can work on it yourself…”

“But that wasn’t-”

“A part of the deal I know, it’s just a suggestion.  Take it or leave it, miso’s still yours.”

“Oh.. okay then.”  As they left, Onion felt bitter guilt rising in him.  He looked at the miso and sighed before pulling out his laptop and getting to work.  Might as well as payment for the miso.  He swiftly got to work as Y/N stayed silent in their room.

2 days.

Onion finished the last of his typing, the kitchen was oddly silent as there was no miso being cooked and no Y/N to bother him.  Y/N just let Onion in, apologizing for the lack of miso or food, and tried to turn him away, but Onion persisted that it didn’t matter.  They let Onion do what he wanted as they did the same as they did before, retreating back to their room in silence.  Yet Onion completed the project yesterday.  It was a minor error that needed to be corrected, one colon needed to make the code work.  When he found the error, all he could do was chuckle a bit before staring at Y/N’s room.  

“Why can’t I just leave,” Onion whispered to himself as he stared at his laptop in frustration.

“No one said you can’t,” Y/N muttered, walking over to the fridge to get water.

“I know,” Onion spat. “I don’t know shallot, doesn’t seem like it,” Y/N spoke in a flat sing-song tone.

“Could you just, shut up already, damn,” he spat.  Y/N carried no response.  They stood in place, the chill of the open fridge numb to their body as they stared into the light illuminating the numerous food products inside.  “Y/N…?”  They closed the fridge as if on autopilot and made their way back into their room, their heart weighing heavy as an ache formed in their chest, their cheeks damp.  Damn it.

24 hours.

No knock today.  The miso sat on the stove for 3 hours, cold, and untouched.  Y/N waited hours, even after they poured the miso down the drain.  Part of them laughed at themselves for waiting, yet the other part made them ache.  Of course, he got tired of me like everyone else.  The silence of their apartment bothered them, the lights and blinds all dimmed.  They stared at the freshly bought miso packets, the weight of their assignments and lectures missing pushed on their heart and crushed it as their tears fell.

22 hours.

“Oh,” was all Y/N could muster when they received an email from Onion telling them to get on the link to the project presentation.  Not a single “sorry” or “Are you okay” was typed out.  They grabbed their laptop and moved it from their bed to their desk as they prepared for another night in bed alone again.  Their assignments could wait just a bit longer.

21 hours, 3AM.

Three knocks.  

“Hey, sorry I was finishing up the work in the library.”  Oh?  Y/N could smell the bullshit coming from him.

“Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry,” was all they could muster in response.

“Okay, here I’ll make miso.  I don’t smell miso, so I guess it’s safe to assume you haven’t been making any.  I’m sorry for ghosting,” Onion gave a sheepish smile.  What the hell do you mean sorry?  Their chest aches even more at the sight of his small smile.

They talked for a while on the couch about the assignments Y/N had been missing while the TV ran some background noise for them.  Turns out Onion and Y/N were excused from some extra tutoring that other students were given in the class, so it wasn’t too bad.  Y/N still had some work to do, but Onion mentioned how he finished the assignment way before, hence the email to check on the file.  Y/N breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t I make us some miso soup for once,” Onion asked.  Y/N raised a brow at this in mocking offense.

“You, my guest, cooking?  Hell no.”  Onion scoffed.

“Just rest.”

“No I’ll make it–”

“Literally shut the fuck up and go.”

“Fine.”  Y/N pushed themselves off of the couch and semi-stopped over to their bed before plopping on it dramatically.  Onion walked in to make sure they were actually in bed before grabbing an extra blanket that sat on their chair and layering it on them.  Y/N side-eyed his every move the entire time as he did.  Their heart had a warm ache this time while Onion shut the door.

“Where the fuck do they put the pots.”  Now that Onion was tasked with “taking care” of Y/N, he realized he had no idea where anything was.  He sighed before going through each cabinet one by one.  Y/N heard the cabinets opening and closing before smiling softly to themselves.  Wait, what.

The weight lifted from their shoulder.  The heaviness of the world had gone.  They took a deep breath, sinking back into the soft blankets once more.

20 hours, 4AM.

“Damn this is good, what kind of crack did you put,” Y/N enthused.

“Just some extra ingredients I brought,” Onion replied.  Y/N froze.  “I didn’t fucking poison it dumbass.”

“Well how am I supposed to know, hm?”  Y/N spat.

“We’re eating food… from the same pot.”

“Oh yeah huh.”  Y/N hastily resumed their eating as Onion shook his head.  Y/N pondered as they ate.  “Hey… you’ve been acting different lately.  You’re less…”

“Less what?”

“Less annoying,” Y/N deadpanned.

“...thanks?”

“You’re more… enjoyable to be around I guess.”  Onion felt his face go a bit warm, having never heard those from their voice.  He stared down at his bowl as he felt it go to his ears.  “Woah,” he heard Y/N say.  “You’re red as fuck.”

“Yeah, wonder who’s fault that is,” Onion retorted.  Y/N chuckled at that as they stood up to grab more soup.  The TV was all that filled the room as Onion felt his brain restarting.  Rain began to patter against the windows.  “I guess you’re not that annoying too, enjoyable, even…”  Y/N froze up too, almost dropping the soup filled ladle.  They quickly shook their head as they put the bowl back on the table, mimicking what Onion had just done.  Shyness is cute on them…?  Onion was considering things immensely now.

With the change in attitude from his supposed academic rival, his emotions have been askew these past days.  The lack of brattiness left a hole.  Something, such as a shift in the force, had changed his whole routine entirely.

“Fuck off,” Y/N spat.

“Nah.”

“Whore.”

“Eat shit and die,” Onion smirked.

“That’s my fucking line,” Y/N gasped dramatically at their own words being used against them.

“Oh whatever,” Onion chuckled fondly.

19 hours, 5AM.

The two sat in Y/N’s living room now as they chatted and argued about anything they could find.  During Onion’s dramatic listing of every time he’s won against Y/N, he noticed them staring long and hard at their bedroom door.

“Earth to dumbass, what’s up?”

“I should get a start on some of my other assignments.  So close to finishing yet...” Y/N let out a harsh sigh.  “You probably want to head back to yours anyways.”  Onion sat upright at this.  “See, like a fucking dog–”

“No.”  Y/N raised an eyebrow?

“Fuck you mean, no?”  Onion himself didn’t even know what he meant.

“No as in… I’m not going home?”

“Suit yourself.”  Y/N got up and went to their bedroom, leaving Onion dumbfounded on the couch.

No?  What am I even going to do here…  He took a deep breath before walking over to Y/N’s bedroom.  They were already at work on their laptop.

“Hey, I’m gonna go,” Onion muttered.

“Figured, I’ll see you out then.”  Y/N led the way to the door while Onion trudged along behind them with his work bag.  

“Are you actually showing up tomorrow,” Onion snickered.  His face turned to an unreadable expression the second he noticed Y/N look away silently with a stone face as they pondered it.

“Nah, fuck that,” Y/N chuckled dryly.  An idea popped into Onion’s mind.

“Burned out?”

“What?”  Y/N knew what he was talking about of course, but the fact that Onion even questioned it felt out of character for him.  “So what if I am,” Y/N snapped.

“Well… you know that’s not healthy…”  Onion started.

“Yes, but it got everything done so I don’t see why—”

“Because you worried me.”  Y/N’s eyes widened.

“I worried you?”  

“Yes.”  By now the both of them were staring at each other in the entrance to Y/N’s apartment, neither of them moving and the silence filled with their heavy breaths.  Onion stepped forth and held out both of his hands.  Y/N gave a sharp look at him as he gestured towards them, keeping them outstretched.  Y/N hesitantly put their hands in his.

“You can’t just say that…” 

“I can’t?”  They dropped his hands.

“No, it.. It’s confusing for me.”  Onion leaned against the wall, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket.

“It’s confusing for me too, you know,” Onion whispers, averting his gaze to the ground.  Perhaps if he stared hard enough, the wall and him would combine as one and he’d be able to leave.  Taking care of his little siblings was one thing, comforting someone his age was another.  There was a reason he resorted to talking to his friends online.

“Hey…”  Y/N stepped forward, their hand twitching.  “What’s on your mind, if you don’t mind my asking?”  A faint smile was painted on his face.  After all this, they’re still so kind.

“I.. don’t mind per say.”  His bag weighed heavily on his shoulder, pulling his heart to the ground in ache.  “I’m just not sure I know how exactly to say,” he sighed.  A gentle finger laced with one of his own as Y/N hooked them together.  Looking up in confusion, they dragged him over to the sofa.  

“Let’s start from the beginning shall we?”

After a couple hours, the two had made up that night, and with help from Y/N’s visitor and a sleepover numerous late assignments were turned in.  Now, it’s been a whole week since that night.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to keep coming over,” Y/N laughed as they stirred the miso in the pot as normal.  This routine came back immediately.  Onion coming over to Y/N’s, the smell of miso soup filling the apartment after settling down for a few minutes.  A chat about interests along with plenty of time for assignments.

“Yeah well, you make my day plenty more interesting, ‘you know,’” Onion mocked.  Feigning offense, the miso soup pot was set in the middle of the counter with a cork mat underneath.  As Onion grabbed himself a portion, Y/N strolled over to the TV and turned it on for background noise.  

“Yeah yeah, oh how I must brighten your oh so, dark, dreadful, drowsy days.”  Laughter filled the apartment, almost drowning out the TV noise.

“...festival lasts for a few days, but, due to fortunate circumstances, will be held during local schools' vacation days.”  The TV listed the dates as the two college students looked at each other.  “Not to mention, the Winter Festival is known for the competitive nature that it brings to it’s attendees with the plethora of games, contests, and more, only here at…”  

“That’s our Winter break dates huh…” Onion smirked. 

Y/N cleared their throat.  “Would you care to join me to this, uh, ‘friendly’ festival?”

“Oh,” Onion leaned forward.  “It’s on.”

[inuhalfdemon]

No One Can Know...(16/?)

Word Count: 5, 842 Words

Rating: Explicit (SMUT)

Chapter 16

"Now there's nothing left behind, nothing left of you.

Voices start to change...faces re-arrange,

Eyes roll back and hands are pulling you down,

They're dragging you beneath,

Blood between your teeth...

You'll sleep when the shadow moves over your...black eyes."

- The Birthday Massacre

With less than a few weeks left before extermination day; Lucifer and Alastor were finding less and less alone time for themselves.

 It was becoming clear that not all fortifications that could be made would be made on time.

There just was too much to do with such a small group to get it done with. Lucifer and Charlie met regularly now; deciding what areas deserved priority and what areas could be sacrificed in the line of defense. Alastor checked and double checked that the cannibals were fully prepared; that they would be armed appropriately; that they knew which wave would advance and when; ensuring that each and every one of them were still fully willing and dedicated to the cause.

Satisfied and confident that the cannibals were, in fact, ready – Alastor then began collaborating with both Vaggie and Sir Pentious; using their knowledge and experience in formulating the best plans for attack – knowing very well that Alastor’s shield would very likely only serve to buy them some time to prepare for the full assault.

Alastor too, took special care in monitoring the comings and goings of all Voxtech drones into their territory. Finding no real threat from the tech, he let Vox be as nosy as the pompous prick wished to be – finding the TV man’s outward involvement entirely inconsequential to the ongoing preparations.

Because there was less free time and because there was potential for added risks to Alastor being away for any length of time now, Alastor made it a point to invite Lucifer to the Hazbin Hotel every night. Some nights they discussed plans, some nights they bickered in the lobby or over a few drinks at the bar, and some nights they just spent time together – reading, playing at cards or just….conversing. Some of the later nights turned to fucking or intimacy of some form; others found them simply tiredly dragging themselves together into Alastor’s bed, sleeping soundly beside each other; and still - on other late nights - Lucifer would bid Alastor his own goodnight before taking leave and returning to the hotel to continue their work in the morning. 

One week before Heaven’s planned attack; Alastor and Lucifer were asleep together in Alastor’s bed. It was very late when Alastor felt his shadow touch him; waking him in complete darkness. His ears twitched and tweaked swiftly; then nodding to his shadow he sat up to wake Lucifer.

“I’m very sorry to wake you…but, do you think you could shift form? Someone is coming.”

 “Huh, what?” Lucifer blinked at him; clearly not fully awake yet.

“I said-“ Just then, the faintest, most quietest of knocks came from the hotel room door.

Lucifer’s eyes widened and he jolted up, realizing.

“You can stay….if you’d like.” Alastor offered. “Or you can go home, but I have to see to this.” Alastor told him, getting up; he quickly found his pair of black sweats to slip into before drifting into shadow and disappearing completely.

Alastor’s shadow motioned for Lucifer. Waving his hand, Lucifer made sure all of his belongings were moved from the room and then he quickly shifted his form into a small, white ermine; quickly darting off of the bed and after the shadow. Lucifer curled himself under a dresser and the shadow pressed in on him as Alastor drifted back into the room; carrying a very distressed Niffty.

The small demon clung to him with little hands; her tiny body shaking with sobs.

Alastor held her close; his ears drawn back as he spoke softly to her. “It was just another night terror, my dear…I’m here.”

Niffty choked out more sobs, whimpering against his chest as Alastor stepped up and into the bed, sitting with her held tightly in his arms. He rocked her back and forth; humming to some old southern tune that Lucifer didn’t recognize.

Lucifer laid still, listening intently with perked small and round ears.

 It took some time but Niffty’s sobs and whimpers slowly died; turning to a soft crying. Alastor spoke to her again; talking to her in hushed tones…asking her about her day and what funny thing Angel or Sir Pentious might have said or done that made her laugh recently. Niffty struggled to verbalize at first; making small noises and nods before she found her voice and was able to softly speak with him. She said something to Alastor that Lucifer didn’t quite catch and Alastor chuckled lightly; still holding her close. Not long after that, she was asleep in his arms. Shifting himself slowly and carefully so as not to wake her; Alastor laid down with her – her little body tucked tightly underneath one arm.

Alastor’s shadow lifted; darting to Alastor and disappearing into its master.

Lucifer slunk himself out from underneath the dresser; glancing at the space just beneath the door and wondering if he should leave. A movement at the corner of his eye turned his head and he saw Alastor’s arm stretching to him from the bed; palm open and dipped to the ground.

With smooth movements, Lucifer’s ermine form leapt from the floor; onto the palm of Alastor’s outstretched hand and up his arm. Diving into the covers; he turned and slid himself against Alastor’s side – opposite from Niffty – and poked his ermine head out just enough to look up at Alastor with small black eyes.

Alastor brought his arm back up; wrapping it around the ermine and scratching the little head gently between the ears with the tips of his claws. Lucifer grinned at him with small, sharply pointed teeth; flicking a small ear at the pleasurable scratching before circling in place to curl himself into a tight, soft ball of fur against Alastor.

Pulling both small and tired bodies close to his sides; Alastor drifted off to sleep.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, you look like shit. Didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?” Lucifer joined Alastor on the sofa; leaning back and holding his steaming cup of tea.

Alastor was visibly tired; his smile less stretched across his face, eyes and ears all drooping. He was dressed in his black dress pants and shirt but his jacket and staff were placed aside.

“Not really…” Alastor sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “And, with everything we’ve had to do around here, I don’t get much time to sleep throughout parts of the day like I’m used to either.”

“Ah, yes because your…creep-, creeped-…uh, no fuck; creepy-?“

“Because I’m crepuscular.” Alastor finished, lifting his coffee with a groan. 

“Yes! That!” Lucifer smiled as if happy with himself. “Well, I had a lovely night of restful sleep myself. I should weasel my way into your bed more often.”  He lifted and dropped his eyebrows; grinning widely.

“Keep making jokes like that, and you’ll never be allowed in my bed again.”

“Oh…tired and cranky.” Lucifer prodded him.

Alastor lifted his mug, taking a deep swallow from it, while lifting his other hand and giving Lucifer a very raised and very pointed middle finger.

Lucifer erupted in a bout of snickering.

His giddiness subsiding, Lucifer asked Alastor, “So…does she get the night terrors often?”

“Niffty?” Alastor looked at Lucifer; surprised that he was asking and blinking with tiredness.  “Not as often...no. I think this is the first one she’s had since coming to the hotel. I’m sure the stress from everything that’s happening is what brought it on. She’s more attune to things than she lets on; more than what people normally would perceive. The night terrors they…come from a place of horrible trauma.”

Lucifer nodded, understanding.

Alastor had moved his coffee so that he was holding the mug in both of his hands; his eyes staring off into the cup, lost in his thoughts.

“Does it bother you?” Lucifer asked him quietly, tipping his teacup and swirling the contents absent-mindedly. “That you have to keep secrets from her?”

“Heh, not really.” Alastor chuckled. “The girl is obsessed with writing something she calls ‘fanfiction’…I really don’t wish to add any kind of fuel to that fire.”   

“Fan-what?”

“Fanfiction.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Well, is it like a genre or?”

“No…it’s- Well, she writes a collection of stories about people she knows - or imagines - in the most bizarre and absurd situations you could possibly envision. It’s….well, I can’t explain because I simply don’t understand it.” He shrugged.

Throwing back his coffee; Alastor set the mug down and asked, “What about you? Are you bothered that Charlie can’t know about….well, about any of this?”

“Yeah…I mean, it just makes everything feel kind of…off, you know? I’m trying to  be there for her and support her in every way that I can, but at the same time…I can’t be honest with her and that’s…well, it’s hard.”

“What do you think she’d say about…whatever this is?” Alastor gestured awkwardly.

“This? This? As in us? What you and I are doing?” Lucifer asked him.

“Yes.” Alastor told him; exasperated by Lucifer needing the clarification.

Lucifer laughed. “Eh, she’d get it.”

“What?” Alastor stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Then, when none came: “You can’t be serious.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Lucifer asked him, clearly not joking. “She’s an adult. She’s the Princess of Hell. She’s not sheltered, Al. She knows what Lilith and I get up to; we’ve never been secretive with her – well, not until now, anyway. She won’t care about the things you and I have been doing. behind closed doors but...” He sighed. “She is going to care that we kept it hidden from her. You’re supposed to be someone she can turn to; look to for guidance and I’m her father…we’re supposed to be the people she can lean on; not the ones who are there to deceive her.

Alastor’s ear tweaked at that, but he offered nothing for a reply.

“I’m very…proud of her.” Lucifer said, becoming emotional. “She’s finding her own way…really coming into her own. Lilith was right – we should have pursued this long ago.”

“So…no cold feet this time, then?” Alastor asked him. 

“No…” Lucifer shook his head, swallowing down his emotion. “Not this time.”

Alastor considered him; seeing a hard look in Lucifer’s expression and he knew that the angel was fully committed.

But, will you hold to that commitment…once you’re faced with Adam?

Alastor was made very aware of the deal made between Adam and Lilith; that Lilith had promised him an eventual powerful and ruling position over all of the sinners in Hell in exchange for whatever access she had currently been granted into Heaven. Her and Lucifer had even sweetened the pot; offering the annual exterminations for Adam to exercise and establish his authority; use them as a means to “reduce Hell’s growing overpopulation” – the exception to these killings being: all Hell-born kind.

It wasn’t lost on Alastor though, that despite all of this – and Adam’s obvious greater newfound lust for power and control – Lucifer was one of only a few beings to be both alive and present for the creation of Adam. Alastor wasn’t even entirely sure that Lucifer hadn’t had a hand in it.

Per Lilith’s instructions, they were to do everything they could to spare Adam – refrain from killing him, if they could avoid it, but if push-came-to-shove…they would do so. 

Alastor had no reservations with killing Adam, but he suspected Lucifer might have a few.

“So, speaking of time…we’ve got some now.” Lucifer pulled Alastor from his thoughts, shooting him a coy smile.”

“No, we don’t.” Alastor told him. “Charlie wants us to attend another one of her activities this morning. Did you forget?”

“Well, no…I hadn’t forgotten. But, there is something called a ‘quickie’.” He smirked.

  “Don’t you and I already have…plans? Tonight?” Alastor asked him, steadily.

“….yes.” Lucifer allowed.

“Then, let’s stick with those.” Alastor told him grumpily; getting up to go get his jacket and his staff.

“Well, fuck…you really do need a nap.”

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“Okay, everyone: Charlie’s on her way down but I’m going to go ahead and split everyone off into pairs before she gets here. We don’t have a lot of time - with everything we still have left to get done this week - so this will be a quick one!” Vaggie started right in, directing them. “You guys are going to pair up and find a common interest that you share with each other!”

“Lucifer, Angel – you’re a pair! Alastor, Cherri – time to hit it off! Husker, Sir Pentious….”

 Everyone broke off and went to find their partners. They were in the lobby again and Charlie had left out one of the long tables with the stacks of papers and pens; should anyone like to utilize the resource. Lucifer and Angel immediately began talking and laughing with each other; both heading over to the table. Angel slipped a sheet of paper from the stack and quickly went to scribbling something on the blank page as they chatted happily.

Cherri strolled up to stand next to Alastor; not a hint of hesitation in her approach.

She blew out a large bubble from her gum, popping it loudly.

“Hello, Miss Cherr-“ Alastor started in, meaning to start into his typical and polite greeting.

“Ah, fuck yeah!” She burst in, interrupting him – clearly excited. “Your radio show kicks ass, mate!” She threw an enthusiastic punch to the air and Alastor’s teeth clenched in his wide smile, thinking for a moment she meant to hit or touch him amidst the outburst.

“Do you take requests!?” Cherri shifted back, leaning heavily on one hip; smiling and staring widely at him with her one gleaming eye.

“Pardon?”

Charlie came down to the lobby then, smiling widely and bouncing happily until she noted one of the pairings. Gasping, she went and found Vaggie.

“You put my dad with Angel!?”

“Yeah…is that not okay?” Vaggie asked her, looking toward the pair.

“I just worry things might turn to…inappropriate subjects…between those two.” Charlie told her.

Vaggie laughed. “Charlie…Angel knows your dad is the King of Hell. He might make a few distasteful jokes but I doubt that even he’d be that leud in front of your dad.”

“It’s not Angel that I’m worried about.” Charlie confessed.

“Huh?” Vaggie looked at her, saw the serious expression on her partner’s face then looked back to Lucifer and Angel. They were leant over the table, very focused on what Angel was doing with the paper and pen; conversing very seriously with each other. Oh…no.

Just then, ACDC’s Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap erupted loudly from where both Alastor and Cherri were standing from across the room. The song boomed from Alastor’s microphone staff that he held in front of him. Alastor was smiling impishly as Cherri head banged beside him to the lyrics, her voice singing with the rock music:

“Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap! Dirty deed and they’re done dirt cheap!”

Whooping and cheers filled the lobby; the music dying as laughter followed.

Meanwhile; Angel and Lucifer’s enthusiasm for what they were discussing rose, their voices becoming louder so that others in the room could hear what they were saying:

“….and, this is very important,” Angel was saying. “You wanna go slow; alright? You don’t wanna just get things all hot and heavy before you add a little spiciness in to the mix, if you get my drift.”

Lucifer nodded quickly, “Hm, yes…I could see why.”

“Right?” Angel was telling him; “And, make sure you get those juices flowing, you know. A bit of pounding here and there is all good and fine but you really want things dripping and wet before you –“

“ANGEL!!!” Vaggie yelled and everyone froze.

“What!?” He glared at her over his shoulder; obviously annoyed by the interruption.

“Family…friendly.”  Vaggie growled between clenched teeth. 

“What’s more family friendly than sharing an Italian Pot Roast recipe?” Angel asked innocently, lifting the paper and showing a list of ingredients and directions for cooking the dish. Vaggie deflated; slapping a palm to her face.

Charlie gripped her gently by the shoulders; reassuring her. “Sorry, guys…” Charlie told them. “Judging from context, we thought you both might be discussing…other things.”

Lucifer and Angel looked at each other; seeing the look on each other’s faces they burst out into loud and shaking laughter.

Lucifer was bent over; holding his gut. “You thought…you thought I was asking the porn star for tips!?” He choked out and they both roared louder. “I mean…” Lucifer started to compose himself, wiping tears from the corner of one eye. “Maybe…if he had any good ideas for something suspensory.”

“Oh, I’ve got a few!” Angel told him excitedly, reaching for another piece of paper. “We talking rope, cable, chains; vertical, horizontal, inverted…whatcha want?”

“Hm…maybe something simple to begin with, I’ve never actually tried it before.” Lucifer told him and they leaned back over the table while the others stood staring at them both in complete silence.

“Okay, so first you need to consider the kind of suspension you’re going for. You’ll likely need a solid counterweight too - Oh! And, a release! - So…” Angel was quickly drawing.

A long black tentacle quickly slid itself across the table; touching the paper and combusting it into a bright flare of green flames.

Angel and Lucifer both jumped back; Angel yelling an indignant: “Hey!”  

“Okay, well I think…that’s good work…for today!” Charlie awkwardly managed, watching Alastor’s tentacle retreat back into his back as he glared at Angel and Lucifer with open disgust. “Great job, everyone!”

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“Does that feel okay? It’s not too tight, is it?” Lucifer asked Alastor, finishing with a knot.

“No…I think it feels fine.” Alastor told him; testing the restraint.

Lucifer sat behind him, fully naked; focusing on the Shibari-styled chicken wing tie he was applying to one of Alastor’s arms. Satisfied with the one he had completed; he moved to Alastor’s other arm – lifting the arm above and behind Alastor’s head, setting it folded against his shoulder and neck so that it rested comfortably in place. Uncoiling the length of soft, twisted cotton; he wound the rope in a spiraling pattern; replicating all of the previous knots he had made to the other limb.

Alastor leaned forward in the bed; giving him room to work. He, himself, sat in the bed dressed in only his black boxers; the sheets and covers draped across his bare legs as Lucifer went about placing the rope restraints that he wanted.

“You couldn’t just do all of this with a wave of your hand?” Alastor asked him.

“Well, yeah, I could.” Lucifer told him, securing another knot. “But, that kind of takes the fun out of it. It’s foreplay.”

“This is foreplay?” Alastor snorted; then Lucifer finished what he was doing behind him and moved to the front; eyes on the placement of his rope and knots. He was already sporting a sizeable erection. “Oh…okay.”

“I-uh…I really like this sort of thing.” Lucifer told him, blushing. “Okay, everything still feels alright?”

Alastor tested both arms now. “Yes.”

“There’s no pinching or extra tightness anywhere?” Lucifer asked.

“Luci…” Alastor sighed, exasperated.

“I know, I know, but I want to make sure it’s done right. This is all still new for you and I- I don’t want any of it to be a bad experience because of something I did.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment, your majesty, but I am quite alright.”

“Oh, I am your majesty, now?” Lucifer teased him; moving himself and pushing Alastor into laying down so that he was sitting straddled on Alastor’s chest – still checking and making adjustments. 

“Luci…your dick is in my face.”

“Well, just deal with it for a second, I gotta do a couple of more things.”

“Hm…” Alastor shifted; lifting his pelvis and lower back sharply so that Lucifer slid closer to him, the devil’s hips resting at his shoulders.

“Hey!” Lucifer objected sharply before Alastor took his dick into his mouth. “You sly fucker…”

Alastor grinned up at him; eyes wickedly gleaming.

“Whatever, I’m still doing this.” Lucifer went back to his adjustments with the rope – doing his absolute best to ignore the fact that Alastor was presently licking and softly sucking at his tight cock.

It became quickly apparent that Lucifer wasn’t going to maintain his composure for much longer. Satisfied with the results of his intricate bindings; he pretended to be re-evaluating everything further – out of sheer spite – while Alastor loudly sucked and slurped at him below.

Lucifer shuddered and Alastor hummed against him; eyes closed – tongue and mouth working slowly and sensuously against Lucifer’s throbbing sex.

Fuck…is he making up for lost time? For a guy who’s never sucked cock before he seems really into it now.

Alastor tilted his face and Lucifer’s penis slid in deeper. The angel’s head leant back and he groaned as he began to move his hips; griding himself against the roof of Alastor’s mouth.

Tasting pre-cum; Alastor tightened his suction – tongue teasing at Lucifer’s tip as the angel loudly began to huff and pant – his member curving and twitching sharply just before he released himself.

“Ah…” Lucifer panted; pulling himself away from Alastor’s wet and lapping tongue. “You’re a fucking natural at that…”

Alastor grinned; sharp-pointed yellow teeth flashing back up at him.

Lucifer shifted himself; pushing the sheets and covers away with his feet as he lay himself across Alastor.

His clawed hands raked down the skin of Alastor’s chest – leaving raised and red markings in their path. Feeling the effects of his restraint; Alastor bent backward; lifting himself into the intensity of the touch. Lucifer leant close, kissing and nipping at the skin stretched taut at Alastor’s collar bone; sending tingles and ripples of pleasure traveling downward.

Alastor’s back felt like it could curl with pleasure and he strained against the intricate webbing of ropes that held him bound. The soft lines and knots pressed into his skin; held him fast - sending more pulsing sensations all throughout his body from the nerve points they laid against and made contact with.

Lucifer pressed himself closer; hands kneading and exploring Alastor’s upper body. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping at heated skin. Alastor groaned deeply; his body lifting and twisting beneath Lucifer as he became flooded by sensual sensation.

Shifting; Lucifer slid himself down – pressing a hand to Alastor’s lower abdomen and sinking his palm down behind the waistband of Alastor’s black boxers and finding his groin. He palmed and teased at Alastor’s bulging length; encouraging a gentle buck from Alastor’s pelvis into his hand.

Lucifer laughed softly; hand twisting and claw piercing through and into the fabric; slicing through it with ease.

“Hope these weren’t precious to you in some way.” Lucifer growled, pulling the torn cloth from around Alastor’s waist.

Panting and sweating now; Alastor offered him no reply.

Chuckling; Lucifer appreciated the vibrant red he had flushed into Alastor’s chest and face. It made the radio demon look so lovely – laying there; strung up and wanting beneath him- all by Lucifer’s own hand. 

Taking the boxers, Lucifer tore at the cloth. Winding it into a thick strip; he raised himself so that he was leaning over Alastor.

“How about…we try something else that’s new.” He breathed; raising the strip to Alastor’s face with both hands and tying the clothing securely behind the deer demon’s twitching ears.

Cutting through the fog of pleasure; Alastor felt a sharp tightness in his chest before his world went completely dark…

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“ALASTOR!”

Alastor slow blinked, slowly coming to but feeling terribly disoriented.

“Ah, hell…Al! Can you hear me!?”

Lucifer was slapping at his cheek; but Alastor could barely feel it.

Alastor tried to lift his head – the room was full of the scent of burning dust and wires…he could feel a static humming all across his skin…

Alastor blinked more quickly, and his vision became less and less blurred.

“AL!?” Lucifer continued to yell at him; a panicked worry set across his face.

Finally, Alastor tilted his head. “Wha-what happened?” He mumbled, nearly incoherently.

“Oh, fuck!” Lucifer gasped out at him. “Oh, fucking Christ….you’re good. Okay…”   

“Luci…what -?” He tried to sit up but found that his neck was shackled to the bed.

“I thought you passed out!” Lucifer was nearly yelling at him; clearly frantic. “But, then you started shifting form and I – I had to –“ He gestured at the heavenly bonds. “You…you went wild, Al…I didn’t know what else to do!”

A sharp clarity cut into Alastor’s psyche and he suddenly jerked; feeling the restraint of the ropes pinning his arms behind his head, the chains and the shackles binding him tightly to the bed; an overwhelming panic gripped him.

“Al, don’t!” Lucifer told him, loudly but no longer yelling. “You need to calm down.”

Alastor fought harder against the restraints. “FUCKING LET ME GO!” He snarled; spit flying from his mouth.

“I can’t!” Lucifer told him desperately. “You need to chill the fuck out; you could hurt yourself if I do, and I don’t want to turn this into an even bigger stress response.”

A terrible heart-wrenching keening tore from Alastor’s chest – his eyes widened in a crazed madness; glazing as he saw the coils of wire tightening against him; flares of electricity sparking through the darkness and flashing consoles erupting across his vision.

“FUCKING HELL!!! STOP IT!!!” Lucifer roared at him. “IT’S NOT REAL!!!”

Lucifer shifted form; his six wings bursting from his back and quickly unfurling around both of them.

“LOOK AT ME!!!” Lucifer was yelling. “I’M REAL! I’M HERE!”

Alastor’s head bent back; seeing the wings – the brilliant colors of red and white feathers…hearing the soft sounds of their movement and feeling the soft rush of air that their sudden existence created.

Immediately; all the smells and imagery that Alastor had been perceiving diminished and he shivered and shook-  stretched out and naked in the bed; drenched in a cold sweat. Tears – involuntarily - were running down his face; his ears flattening tightly against his head.

“There! There we go!” Lucifer told him; shifting his wings so that they bent securely around them; not daring to touch Alastor quite yet.

Alastor’s shaking became more violent; he was very nearly chattering his teeth now.

“I’m not going to touch you….okay, but I’m going to pull up some of these blankets.” Lucifer yanked at the duvet; lifting it and covering Alastor with the heavy comforter. “Just…breathe for a second…you’re fucking hyperventilating. Can you feel it?”

Alastor’s ears twitched at the question and he tried to focus on what Lucifer was directing him to do. His chest was so painfully tight… Tilting his head back, he groaned low in his throat as he mentally fought with himself, forcing air through his nose and out through his mouth.

“That’s it! Good.” Lucifer encouraged him; eyes wide.

Alastor took more breaths in that way – each inhale becoming stronger, longer…and his body finally began to respond. The tightness in his chest loosened; giving way to even slower and fuller breathing. His heart rate began to lower by steady increments; locked muscles releasing in incredible relief.

Lucifer sighed, feeling a relief of his own.

“I’m going to take these away now.” Lucifer lifted the golden links. “I know your first instinct might be to burn those ropes away once I do but, please…try to endure it a little longer.” Lucifer moved his hand, and the shackle and chains were gone.

Alastor gave a huge and shaking breath out; closing his eyes and squeezing tears onto his face. With the heavenly bonds gone; his shadow slid from him – attaching itself to the wall; moving and watching Alastor from there with concern.

“Did you want to sit up?” Lucifer asked him; hovering close to Alastor but still not touching him.

“No..” Alastor’s throat felt tight and he swallowed. “I think-I think I’m fine.”

Lucifer nodded, watching him closely.

“Do you think you’ll be tolerant to my touching you?”

“Yes…Luci.”

Folding his wings and shifting back to form; Lucifer climbed onto the bed. Helping Al sit up and forward, he quickly checked his ropework; being especially attentive toward finding any lacerations or areas where Alastor’s circulation had been cut-off. Finding nothing amiss or concerning; he touched the ropes, and the binds immediately dissipated beneath his fingers.

Alastor went to move his arms and Lucifer cautioned him: “Slowly…”

Carefully stretching his arms out in a slow motion; Alastor felt the aching twinge of overworked muscles.  

Lucifer watched him work out the stiff soreness from his arms; noting that Alastor’s breathing had settled and he was no longer shaking.

“You feeling ok? Think you can get yourself dressed while I go find you some food?”

“I don’t really feel like I could stomach anything cooked right now…”

“I thought you might say that; I was actually going to haul that smelling deer carcass you’ve been gnawing on for the past several weeks out from the bayou.”

Alastor’s stomach made a loud squelching sound; almost as if in answer to the suggestion.

“God, you’re such a fucking freak…” Lucifer shook his head

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Lucifer left Alastor to dine as he liked; choosing instead to explore Alastor’s bayou in the form of the white ermine he had taken most recently. It still amazed him; how flawlessly and naturally the dimension butted up against the room in the hotel. Nothing about it was synthetic in structure; the bayou was a natural bayou – through and through. Lucifer found genuine enjoyment in darting and trotting through the reedy cattails; and in climbing over and under dead logs to cross the mud-filled bogs. He chased and leapt at the buzzing dragonflies and even hunted a field mouse; pausing briefly only when he heard the sound of a grunting gator coming from nearby in the swamp – the sound of it sending the fur along his back and down his tail to stand straight on end.

When Alastor had finished with his meal; his shadow slinked out into the bayou to retrieve Lucifer; finding him curiously investigating some bank burrow – possibly belonging to a muskrat or a nutria that utilized the resource. He quickly turned away from his investigations; darting playfully and agilely after the shadow as they cut their way from the swamp and back to the hotel.

Stepping back into the hotel room; Lucifer shifted back to form - dressed in only his grey sweatpants. He found Alastor tired and sitting on the sofa, likewise, wearing his black sweats. Lucifer produced a glass of water; setting it down on the small coffee table beside the sofa and close to Alastor. Alastor eyed the glass; lifting an eyebrow.

“I’m going to run you a bath and then I’m going to change out the sheets; that glass better be empty when I’m done.” Lucifer told him; walking away.

Alastor made a disgusted sound. “I’m not a child.”

“No.” Lucifer told him, stopping and turning to look at him. “But, I’m holding myself responsible for…what happened. Our session wasn’t what I wanted it to be, but things still got intense, Al. Let me at least do this part right.”

Alastor sighed, looking away. Even if it wasn’t your fault…?

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucifer asked him.

“No.” Alastor’s answer was reflexive but firm.

“Then, we won’t.” Lucifer told him, leaving the room.

Lucifer started on the bath and switched out the sheets to the bed in Alastor’s bedroom. Seeing the lengths of rope that were left and finding the makeshift blindfold – he sent it all away. Done with that; he went back to the sofa – noting the empty water glass.

“Bath is ready. I’ll let you go do your thing.” Lucifer told him; sitting down heavily onto the sofa.

“What are you going to do?” Alastor asked him.

Lucifer laughed. “Probably have a fucking drink; I don’t know…”

“Are you going to go?”

“Do you want me to?” Lucifer asked him.

“…no, not particularly.”

Lucifer assessed his demeanor; quickly realizing…

He doesn’t want to be left alone…

Lucifer sighed. “Fuck…I’m sorry, Al.” Alastor’s ear turned at that and Alastor looked at him.

“I’ve only ever been on the one side these…sort of things.” Lucifer explained. “I don’t know what the Hell I’m doing…Thank god, for Lilith. She always knew what to do.”

And, your not exactly an open book…

“What…what triggered it?” Alastor asked him; ears raising – standing straighter.

“I don’t know. I wanted to ask you that….maybe, the blindfold? Maybe the ropes? Both? When did something change or feel different?”

“I’m…not sure. I’m having trouble remembering…If anything, it should have been the ropes but, I don’t think that did it.”

“Well, we’ll avoid blindfolds for a while.” Lucifer then made a face.  “Actually, maybe it’s best that we stop what we’re doing entirely.”

Alastor’s head snapped to the side at that. “I don’t want that.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“I don’t care.” Alastor shook his head. “I don’t-“ He swallowed, ears tilting back. Then, he sighed.

Alastor tilted his head back, pressing his eyes closed. “Could I…forgo the bath? Could we…could we just…?”

“Yes. Of course…”

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They entered the bedroom. Alastor paused as Lucifer went to the bedside; pulling back the freshly made covers.

“Why don’t I get see more of your wings?” Alastor asked him, wondering.

“Heh,” He laughed lightly. “Probably for much of the same reasons that I don’t get to see more of your tail.” Lucifer told him. “I’m not exactly proud of my wings, Al.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Alastor replied.

“But, you understand?”

“I might if they were the same things.”

“Because, I wouldn’t choose to hide my regrets from the world if I could be given such a choice?” Lucifer asked him, icily.

Alastor’s ears laid back at that.

“God, Al…” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose; squeezing his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to be so…bitter. I’m…sorry.”

Lucifer looked at Alastor and his heart sank.

“You’re exhausted…”

Reaching for Alastor; Lucifer pulled him with him into the bed.

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Late into the night - Alastor shifted; unable to sleep. He moved himself so that he sat at the edge of the bed – steadying his breathing. It seemed like every time he closed his eyes…sparks and flashing screens haunted his mind. His smile twitched at the ends of his mouth and he lifted a hand to his face; leaning into the palm and feeling a sharp sting at the corners of his eyes.

There was a movement behind him and then wings unfurled and stretched out over him – curving up and around him as if they were his own - feathers caressing him softly as they closed gently around him; pulling him back so that he was pressed tightly against Lucifer as the angel held him in his arms. Lucifer tightly held him there – saying nothing; wings securely folded and pressing him closer. Alastor shook against his bare chest; refusing to release the ragged sob that meant to claw its way out of his chest.

I can’t change the damage that’s been done…

                        But, maybe…you could help me to forget….

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My headcannons regarding Niffty = here

Shibari-style chicken wing restraint reference =

Chapter 17

[lets-try-some-writing]

A World Where Things Went Right: Snippet #1

Enjoy suckers. This is going to be the angstiest of angst once I get it finished. Just you all wait. I warned you I had shipping pain in store.

The snippet isn't that long, but well... the fic will likely be WAY longer at the rate I am writing.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

“So this is it.” There was no question in his tone as Ratchet stared at the space bridge as it powered on. Their ship had long since been left to float through the dead of space, all remaining power having been diverted to this last leap, this final chance to make a difference.

“Yes.” Optimus answered simply, his voice weak from long vorns of exhaustion and malnutrition. He did not smile as he sat in his chair connected to a thousand and one wires. The Matrix glowed faintly in his exposed spark chamber, seemingly at peace with the connectors that were hooked into it. This was the end, and even the relic knew it.

“I won’t be able to come back, will I?” No response greeted his question as Ratchet stared out into the void outside their ship. They were the last, at least to their knowledge. Even if others had survived, the Unmaker’s reign was in full swing. He would get them all eventually, or failing that, the lack of energon would kill off whatever remained of their species soon enough. 

The stabbing pain in his tanks reminded Ratchet of just how much time he had left. Ratchet had been given what little remained of their stores so that he would be able to endure the journey. Optimus did not look nearly as healthy, not that Ratchet was healthy by any definition of the word either.

“When this is done, the Matrix will have no more power to give. This place, our universe… it will be no more.” Optimus’s weakened voice echoed in the ship and Ratchet found his servos clenched into fists. He had long ago accepted the deaths of the remainder of their kind. Vorns upon vorns of watching those he loved be picked off tended to have that effect. Still, the idea of everything fading away… it ached.

He wanted to die beside his Conjunx, not abandon him to the coming darkness.

“Why can’t it be you?” Ratchet knew the answer to his question even as he uttered it into the relative silence of their shuttle. Optimus needed to power the space bridge. Relics were the only objects known to be able to tear through the seams of reality. The Matrix was the only relic that remained. It was the only possible tool that could be used, and since it was bound to Optimus, he needed to stay behind. Sending him through with the Matrix serving as a power source at the same time was asking for a catastrophic explosion that would kill them both.

Although, if Ratchet were honest, he wouldn’t mind that outcome at this point. 

“You know that this is the only viable option. Not only are you the only mech capable of stepping through that portal, your presence was always one which did not warrant much suspicion.” Ratchet looked over to his Conjunx, his optics cycling in tiredly on the emaciated mech before him. Optimus no longer had the luster of a mech of his station. His limbs were thin from disuse and his armor had largely grayed. His face was gaunt and his spark flared weakly in his chassis behind the Matrix. 

He didn’t have long left either.

“I know that… I just wish we could have greeted the end together.” Ratchet’s servos shook and he felt coolant gather in his optics as he stepped forward to the one mech in the universe who gave his life meaning. Optimus smiled sadly and drew Ratchet in for a gentle embrace. It was cold, neither of them healthy enough to produce more than the barest heat signatures. The wires that connected to the Matrix slithered along the exposed seams of Ratchet’s form, but he paid them no mind as he rested his face in the crook of his Conjunx’s neck.

“I would have given anything to stay with you my love, but now… this has grown beyond us. We must perform our final function.” Optimus’s words echoed in Ratchet’s mind, and all he could do was cry. 

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.” His vents hitched as Ratchet clung to Optimus’s frail form. His dear Conjunx merely rubbed small circles onto his back while humming a soft tune. He could hear the space bridge power on behind him and sense his bond to his Prime growing weaker along with it. This was it. This was their final farewell. Ratchet had been preparing for this moment for vorns as they worked on the calculations needed to make this grand effort successful, but it still felt like his spark was being torn asunder. 

Ratchet was not the first to go through the portal. Others had gone, and all had vanished without a trace. Bumblebee and Smokescreen were by far the most notable losses. Without a way to confirm if they had survived, only a few attempts to send mecha through the portal had been made. There was no way to be certain it even did anything. For all Ratchet knew, he would be vaporized the moment he stepped into the portal. Despite that, it was a chance for one of them to make it out alive, and he wanted to hope if only for Optimus’s sake.

He wanted to believe that their desperate struggle to preserve something of their dead universe would have meaning. Two of their sons had been lost to the cause. For them, he begged their deceased god with all his spark, praying that this would work.

“It is time.” Optimus’s voice was a mere whisper as Ratchet finally pulled away. A small holodisk sat heavy in his servo as Optimus passed it to him. Ratchet couldn’t bear to look at it as he put it into his carrying compartment. They had an agreement, one that Ratchet did not understand but would adhere to anyway.

The disk was Optimus’s final message, and Ratchet was only to play it when ‘Megatron' became relevant’. He didn’t know what that entailed, but as their universe crumbled, Optimus saw things that others did not. Visions, echoes of a different time and place. It was not Ratchet’s place to doubt him now.

He burned the image of his dying Conjunx’s gentle smile into his memory as he steeled himself and stepped in front of the swirling space bridge. His spark cried out as he sensed Optimus growing weaker, but he merely grit his denta and spared one final glance at the light of his life.

He couldn’t hear the words, but as the light began to fade from Optimus’s optics, Ratchet could have sworn the glyphs echoed in his very spark.

“I love you.”

It took all his strength to step into the portal and leave the plane of existence he knew and the mech he loved behind. 

━━━━━━

Colors assaulted his vision in every conceivable hue. Sounds he could never describe in a million vorns collided with his audials. There was no up or down, there was no sense of stability amidst the vortex. Despite that, Ratchet kept walking on ground that he could neither feel or see. He pushed onward, using what little strength remained in his weak frame to break into a sprint as he sensed his tie to his Conjunx finally snap. He couldn’t tell if he screamed, sobbed, or cursed as he pushed on, but it didn’t matter much within the seams of reality. 

Agony burned in his spark, emotions battled in his processors, and exhaustion weighed heavy in every part of his frame. Combined with the endless colors and sounds around him, it was all too overwhelming to consider. He had never felt so alone as he had in that seemingly endless moment walking between the gaps in the universe. Memories filtered across his vision in strange hallucinations and shapes as he dragged himself through the sea of light. Some were pleasant and depicted the good times he had with Optimus and later the soft moments they shared together raising Bumblebee. Others were… less joyful.

Burning cities, plague, bodies piled high, the exodus, the slow death of their species, the Unmaker’s awakening, the deaths of all those he held dear, and of course, that last spark crushing moment he shared with his Prime. The many long vorns of strife, the slow loss of hope… as much as it hurt, it pushed him on through the barrage of sensation and the simultaneous lack of it.

Finally, after what could have been mere nanokliks or a whole eternity, Ratchet emerged from the space between realities. Something shifted in him as he did so, and a harsh pain assaulted his very being. His consciousness sharpened, and he sensed another mind pressing up against his. He knew this hypothetical, and while not trained in how to handle it, Ratchet pushed on. His mind pressed against the other and he was quick to assert his dominance through memory and emotion. His spark screamed at the loss of his Conjunx and the memories of all he’d had taken from him. Conviction he needed to fulfill his final function propelled him until at last, the other far less tempered mind shattered.

He returned to himself suddenly as he stood up. A universe could not handle more than one version of the same individual. Only one could exist at a time, at least according to Perceptor’s calculations. Looking around him, he could see that he was inside of his old hab before the war. It was a distant memory, one that he hardly recalled after so long. And yet, it was familiar to see his certification hung on the wall and his usual additives on the counter.

The scene was broken only by the unfortunate reality of his actions and the consequences thereof. At his pedes was the barely venting form of his counterpart, the mech in question looking up at him in fear. Ratchet knelt down and placed a servo on his counterpart’s helm and hummed a gentle tune as he did with all his dying patients. His counterpart eased a degree at the song. They both knew the melody and what it meant. Both had long accepted it.

Within a klik, the other Ratchet’s optics went dark and his frame faded away without any fanfare. There could only be one, and Ratchet had taken his younger and inexperienced counterpart’s place. Such was the cost of the knowledge he carried. 

Guilt hung heavy in his spark, but it was smothered as Ratchet steeled himself. There would be time to think later, preferably when his work was done and he could afford to be catatonic from loss.

“Forgive me for taking your life from you. But I promise, I will make this worth it.” Ratchet sighed as he stood and watched the form of his counterpart vanish. There was much to do, and his counterpart was now little more than a memory. He would do something to honor him later. For the time being, he had more pressing issues.

“Primus, they won’t think I am the same mech if I go around looking like this.” He grimaced as he walked over to the nearest mirror. He looked every bit the wartorn survivor of Cybertron. His armor was in shambles and he looked like he hadn’t gotten a deep clean in millennia. Of course he hadn’t done any real maintenance on his frame since the Unmaker destroyed Primus’s core, but others didn’t know that. He just looked like a horror movie extra.

It wouldn’t do. A slight vanishing act may be in order if he wanted to have a reasonable excuse for his appearance.

[haileyywrites]

This is a rewrite of an old fic!

Summary: Upon your creation you are deemed unworthy by your creator; your mother. You are sent hand in hand to face the world of Teyvat and it's challenges until it forces your brother to change forever to protect you...

Pairings: Scaramouche/Kunikuzushi x Sibling!Fem!reader - platonic!

Notes/warnings: Fem reader! Reader is said to somewhat resemble Ei! Spoilers for Scaramouche and Ei's back story, but it's changed in this story! Unhealthy family relationships and dynamics! Child abandonment! Small mentions of death (not reader or Scara!)

Kunikuzushi - as he would later be named, came into this world as a mere experiment into the making of living puppets; created by the Electro Archon Raiden Ei. Due to it being her first time creating a puppet she somewhat tested the limits of it; thus making Kunikuzushi quite different from her, but he still resembled her enough to be recognized as her kin.

She hadn't expected much from the first try, but she was still disappointed that he didn't turn out perfect or the way she had imagined him to be. He was too emotional; too human for her desired outcome. An imperfection in her eyes and thus unfit to be the holder of her Gnosis or rule Inazuma. He was quickly left behind, but not discarded.

This disappointment did not deter her, as she tried again with more knowledge and experience. This time the puppet would be designed and created with her desired outcome in mind. Thus she created you, but even you weren't what she deemed to be worthy. You resembled her like a daughter would resemble their mother and you were not as openly emotional as her first creation, but it wasn't good enough. You weren't good enough in her eyes...

What Ei seeked was a clone-like puppet void of all emotions and humanity so it's judgement or obedience couldn't be clouded by them. All so she could pull it's strings and make it dance while she hid behind the curtain; locked away in the plane of Euthymia for all eternity. Neither of you fit into these standards and thus had no place in her vision of Eternity.

So you were cast out; simply thrown away like used toy's after she finished playing with them. In her eyes this was a kindness, as she "allowed" you to live freely as humans and choose your own path. It was more akin to guilt; like she felt she owed this to you because of her failure's. Perhaps a part of her had that motherly instinct that recognized you two as her children - thus she could never kill you, but neither could she keep you. You would never know for sure..

Together you would stumble throughout the lands of Inazuma as wanderer's, endlessly seeking for something unknown as you had no destination or goal. You were like to newborns that could walk and talk, yet knew nothing of the world you lived in. What were you seeking? A home? Some meaning in life? A purpose? But if your own creator; your own mother could turn you away - what purpose could your life possibly serve?

Throughout your journey you became somewhat known as others saw you as strange and unusual due to your unique clothing and behavior; people would refer to you as the "Kabukimono Twins". Though you weren't twins in reality you never corrected them as telling humans the truth of your nature would not only be difficult, but potentially dangerous for you. "Twins" was simply easier as neither of you aged and some of your features were similiar enough to mistake you two for real twins!

Despite how careful you tried to be, your journey always ended in disaster and heartbreak. Those around you would either betray you or die; though your brother saw their death as another form of betrayal. Especially with the human boy you lived with for a time, he was sick and you all knew this; but he had promised you would be a family - together forever! He was the one who gave you your names, so his death truly changed your lives forever...

You might have not noticed it or tried not to, but all your hardships had forever changed your brother. He became colder, more suspicious and distrusting of others; he would often scare them away with his paranoia. He smiled less and the sound of his laughter became like a distant memory... It saddened you greatly, but it was what he had to do to make sure you would never be betrayed again and to keep you safe.

You were the only one to never betray him and the only constant in this miserable life you lived. He knew he could always count on you to stay by his side no matter what, but he was becoming more paranoid the longer your journey went on. He kept having nightmares of loosing you or you joining with the rest of the world in betraying him. He wouldn't let you do that to him, he couldn't...

In a twisted sense he was glad you were meek and depended on him for almost everything. It greatly lowered the chances of you being able to betray him, unless you were influenced by someone else; which he wouldn't allow to happen. You barely interacted with humans anymore and when you did it was Kunikuzushi who would do the talking for both of you. Either way your own fear of abandonment and betrayal would nake it impossible for you to even consider doing it to someone else, especially him of all people.

As he descended from his hopeful, happy and naive personality; he would come to cherish it in you. He wanted to protect this part of you at all costs, to keep it intact... You could somehow still see the world in that sweet innocent way, even after all you have been through. He couldn't afford to do so anymore or you would be put in danger and be taken advantage of, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make for you.

Somewhere along the line he became obsessed with the thought of gaining the Gnosis of your creator and becoming a God; something Ei thought him to be incapable of being. He wanted to prove her and the entire world wrong! He convinced you that with the Gnosis he would have enough power to protect you from everything; so nothing could hurt you ever again. You of course trusted him wholeheartedly and agreed.

It wasn't long after the boy's death that you were taken in by the Fatui and transported far from the land of your birth to the cold land of Snezhnaya. Things changed much then as he was made the Sixth Harbinger and named Scaramouche or The Balladeer, but he would still have you call him Kunikuzushi in private. You also saw each other much less as he was busy traveling around Teyvat on the Tsaritsa's orders and you were left in the Zapolyarny Palace all alone to wait for him as he couldn't trust anyone else to look after you.

He didn't care for the Tsaritsa or his colleagues, so he wasn't opposed to defending you by any means necessary if needed. They were a nice benefit to furthering his goals of gaining his creator's Gnosis and giving you the life you were deprived of; the life you deserved. You were the light in his darkness, his only reason to go on and he wouldn't let anything take that from him. Even if it meant locking you up with only him to talk to when he was available...

He never let you see this side of him; this new him. You never met Scaramouche The Balladeer, in your eyes he would only ever be your darling brother Kunikuzushi. The Fatui along with it's Harbingers essentially hated and despised him; as he was rude and never in a good mood. He would often yell or shout for any reason and at anyone if they displeased him or simply existed in his presence when he was in a bad mood; which was more often than not. While with you he was sweet and gentle, making jokes and doing menial tasks to keep you entertained like games, art and enjoying tea with snacks.

He was a completely different person when he was with you; you brought out the last piece of Kunikuzushi he had left in him. He would only let you know of and keep this side of him alive. As soon as he left your room he would turn back into the ruthless and cruel Balladeer, but every sacrifice and ounce of blood he had to spill was worth it if it meant he could give you the life you had only ever dreamed of. It was all worth it if he could see you smile and happy while proving to your creator that she was wrong about both of you...

A/N: I've been wanting to rewrite this for a long while now! The original was fine, but I feel my current writing helps to bring out more from the story and make it more alive :D

Feel free to like, comment and or reblog! Any interaction with this post is greatly appreciated <3

[shift-shaping]

colorful aravels and long yellow grass

the inquisition's representatives reach wycome, then venture forth to clan lavellan.

rating: t

pairing: solavellan

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

The Inquisitor's unannounced absence from the ship had caused commotion among her retinue, but Solas wasn't particularly concerned. She had left a few random belongings behind, but her armor and staff were both missing. The ship had hugged the coast for most of its journey, so a trip to shore wouldn't be out of the question for someone who knew how to row. That this was a particularly dangerous area was less than ideal, but it was well within the borders of her homeland.

Perhaps most importantly, Solas knew she wasn't actually alone. Cole had been keeping a low profile on this trip, to the point that Solas was fairly sure only he knew of the spirit's presence. But now that Enaste was gone, so was Cole. Between his backup and Enaste's knowledge of the area, Solas had faith she'd be fine, and figured she went ahead to meet her clan.

Leliana had sent along one of her agents, a skinny city elf named Jester. That Enaste had managed to slip out from under them had set the agent on edge. Even after the Inquisition members disembarked in Wycome, he noticed Jester surreptitiously looking for any signs of what path she might have taken.

An older human woman with bobbed, greying brown hair waited for them on the docks. She wore a neatly tailored dress of high quality materials: a pale-brown, tooled leather bodice over a deep blue skirt. She greeted Jester politely, and introduced herself as Lady Guinevere Volant, the Inquisition's ambassador to Wycome, in a faint Orlesian accent. Then she looked past the agent, to Roshan and Loranil.

"I was informed the Inquisitor's family would be among her party. Forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but would the two of you fit that description?"

Roshan smiled. "I am her uncle, yes, but this one," he elbowed Loranil, who jumped. "Is a more distant relative from a clan in the south." He lowered his voice and covered the side of his face, pretending to keep something secret from Loranil. "You know southern boys, always a bit on-edge."

"I can hear you just fine, hahren," Loranil said, exasperated. The young warrior had spent a significant amount of time with Roshan during the journey, though the latter seemed to do most of the talking. At first Loranil looked excited to speak to an elder from a different clan, but as Roshan's tendency to meander through subjects became apparent, the boy was less enthused. Solas had joined them at times, as had Enaste, but he'd mostly stuck to the Inquisitor's company or played cards with Blackwall.

Lady Volant smiled warmly. "Andaran atish'an, my friends. It is good to meet some of Her Worship's family, no matter how distant." She seemed genuine in her words, or perhaps was simply a good liar. She looked to Solas then, and though he braced himself for misidentification, she evidently knew enough about the Dalish to quickly determine he was not one of them. "I was told there would be another elven mage with the Inquisitor." She gave a short bow, which surprised Solas. "Lady Montilyet wrote that you are highly skilled, and serving as something of an arcane advisor to the Inquisitor. It is an honor to meet someone that both the ambassador and Her Worship hold in such high regard, messere."

Solas nodded to her, and made a mental note to thank Josephine for her kind words. "Thank you. There is no need for such formality, however. I am simply Solas." He returned her smile.

Finally she turned to Blackwall, who stood stoically at Solas's side. "And you must be the Lady Inquisitor's personal guard, the Grey Warden Blackwall?" Solas had noticed Enaste refer to Blackwall as her personal guard on a few recent occasions. It wasn't an official title, but Blackwall wore it proudly.

Blackwall bowed to the ambassador. "Yes, my lady."

However, that Enaste's "personal guard," "arcane advisor," and family members were present while she was not was incongruous, and Lady Volant looked expectantly up at the ship. Isabela stood at the railing watching the group. No one else was coming. The ambassador raised her brows at Jester. "I was told Her Worship would be present. Perhaps I've misunderstood?"

Jester shook their head. "The Inquisitor will not be meeting us in Wycome. She has gone first to her clan. We will rendezvous with her there."

"Oh," Lady Volant was taken aback by this, but recovered quickly. "I see. I had hoped to introduce her to-- well, it doesn't matter now." She gave a polite smile. "I will join you, the location of the Dalish camp is not so far from here."

Lady Volant had a cream-colored horse, a Ranger, if Solas recalled one of Wisdom's lectures correctly. Most of the Inquisition's mounts were Ferelden horses, but Rangers were a breed specific to the Free Marches. The saddle, like her clothing, was straightforward and utilitarian but decidedly high quality, with subtle floral details worked into the dark brown leather. The blanket underneath was the same shade of light green that the Inquisition's agents and soldiers wore.

Between Roshan's directions and Lady Volant's information, their journey into the city's outlying plains to find Clan Lavellan was fairly short. It was still mid-morning by the time they saw the first Dread Wolf statues come into view. The camp was in a small valley, hidden among trees and spread across a shallow river. It was longer than it was wide, following the contours of the hills on both sides, and easy to overlook; were it not for Roshan and Lady Volant, they could easily have spent all day searching. Even the colorful sails of their aravels blended in with the tall trees and reddish rock around them.

The longer he looked, the more he saw; this was easily the largest Dalish camp he'd encountered in his travels. Wind rushing over the hill and through the grass around them stole away its noise, but as they ventured down into the valley a lively chorus rose to meet them: snippets of drums and wind instruments being played in short spurts, shouting from a training yard, laughter, banter, and above all, the shrieks and giggles of small children. He smelled campfire smoke, and burning herbs, and cooking fish that made him realize he had hardly eaten that morning.

Seeing the size and liveliness of her clan explained a lot about Enaste's steadfast defense of and pride for her people, but Loranil's reaction alone was proof enough that this was not typical for the Dalish. The warrior's eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open, the wonder in his expression almost child-like.

It ached to know that even this modest success was atypical, that a clan able to fill a small valley was not the norm.

The shape of the camp meant that they came immediately to a bottleneck. Two guards, a man and a woman, tensed and reached for their weapons. Before they could say anything, Roshan stepped forward and greeted them both warmly. The guards relaxed, but returned the greeting with more confusion than welcoming. "Who are these people, hahren?" One of the guards asked in heavily-accented elven.

"You can't tell?" Roshan put his hands on his hips and smiled. "This is the Inquisition!"

The woman guard frowned. "Surely this is not... the entire Inquisition?"

"No, no, just its best!" Roshan announced, still grinning. The guards exchanged glances and a few quick words, and the man quickly retreated into the camp. "Go get my niece!" Roshan shouted after him, still in elven.

The remaining guard frowned, now even more confused. "Enaste isn't with you?"

Loranil glanced at Solas nervously, knowing they both understood the conversation. Solas's brows furrowed, but he kept his expression otherwise neutral for the young warrior's sake.

"Ah, no," Roshan replied, also concerned. Even without knowing the language, the turn in the tone of the conversation set the others on edge.

Jester stepped forward, bowed to the guard, and apologized for not speaking what should have been their shared tongue. "Are you certain you have not seen the Inq-- Enaste?"

"No." The guard raised an eyebrow. "Abelas. I'm... I don't understand. Should we have?"

"No, well, maybe," Roshan said. He shifted his weight. "I'm sure she's fine. Just a little lost, probably."

It was then that the other guard returned with a short, white-haired woman in deep purple Mythal vallaslin --the same kind Enaste wore, but much more extensive. Her hair was in complex braids, decorated with weaving silver that looked somewhere between tree branches and halla horns. One of her ears was decorated with extensive piercings, also silver. The other was hidden by her braids. She wore a Keeper's robes, with green- and violet-dyed halla fur and leather in brown and white.

Solas knew this was Keeper Deshanna, and despite her diminutive stature --she was at least a foot shorter than Solas-- her aura commanded respect. But to his surprise, she did not begin by giving orders or even addressing the Inquisition's party. Instead, the first thing she did was smile kindly at Roshan and pull him into a tight hug. She whispered something to him, and he shook his head.

Only when they pulled apart did Keeper Deshanna address the Inquisition. "Andaran atish'an. What a pleasure to welcome you all to our home. I am Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel of Clan Lavellan." Her dark gaze swept over them, and she nodded slowly. "My First is not with you." Jester opened their mouth to speak, and Deshanna raised a gentle hand. "Hush. She will arrive shortly." Jester tilted their head, confused, and the Keeper went on. "I know my First. She is safe, but delayed."

Solas narrowed his eyes. Her confidence was impressive, but he had no other reason to believe her. Except, of course, that he also knew she was at least still alive: if the Anchor was gone from this world, he would feel it.

"Come," the Keeper said. She gestured into the camp proper. "We will feed you while we await her arrival." She smiled to Roshan. "I think you will be impressed with what Lahalaan has been up to since your departure."

"I sure hope so," Roshan said, but his happiness sounded forced. "It certainly smells good."

The Keeper led them past the guards, past the wolves at the entrance, and into the beating heart of Clan Lavellan.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

[dorokora]

Chapter 15 Episode 6 Part 3

We start with narration about Bael and King Solomon. Bael was once called Baal. A higher being of the former world of Canaan. However, Canaan was destroyed by an attack from Eden, and Baal fell into Gehenna and became known as the demon Bael. Eventually he was summoned to Tokyo. Above the stars, to heights that no one else can reach, he can feel the respect for the person who reached there, King Solomon. He is just a human who Bael serves. A man who was told by his Lord to ``make any wish come true,'' and instead of seeking gold, power, or love, he sought omniscience. In honor of this, the Lord gave him a sacred artifact through Michael, who succeeded his brother as the highest angel. With the knowledge entrusted to him along with the wisdom of Kabbalah, he created a great mechanism made up of 72 familiars. King Solomon's true value lies in his excellence and innovation as a designer of the world system. It is a system that thoroughly reuses those who have fallen from the outside "mechanism" and incorporates them into itself. Furthermore, his reign developed automatically by creating a pecking order based on the dual hierarchy of a good and evil system and making them compete. One of the familiars asked him how he was able to accomplish such a great feat. He simply answered, “Because I saw the future as I was meant to see it.” As the king of men, Solomon rose to a height that no one else could reach. However, no one could explain the king's actions. They had no idea why he was doing it. The people thought that there was no way anyone lower down could understand someone who saw the future and acted based on the results. However, the system worked well. His reign was even compared to the Millennium Kingdom. However, as a man, Solomon was not eternal. He will grow old and the time will come for his body and spirit to perish. The last thing Solomon to complete his role as a human was to went on a journey through memory. He entrusted his "memories" to the vessel of another human being. He let go of his sword and gave it to Arsalan. One by one, he entrusted everything he had to each place he went. And then, Solomon's "memories" as a human, along with the last ring he left behind, flowed to the far reaches of the east. So he entrusted the rest to a part of his tribe, the Mononobe clan, which means ``those who carry things'' and who are the bearers of the records of the Stars. It is said that the Urabe clan (Furufumi’s family), a branch family of the Mononobe, have continued to watch the stars falling from the sky from the ground. Solomon now exists only as a "memory". However, as long as the system he created remains, it will be immortal. As long as the system remains up-to-date and useful, the world will never forget his name. He has entrusted his ``role'' to the descendants of the Mononobe clan, and I have continued to watch the radiance fall.

Back to the present, The Nyarl duo showed up to timeleap MC and Oscar out of the lab. MC was able to reunite with Toji and Maria. Maria says that everyone is rescuing the captured humans with Sanzo in the lead. Thanks to the Nyarl clones multiple people did the same thing as MC. By using the same space jump to jump to the enemy's center and immediately escape repeatedly. There are more than 10 or 20 Nyarlathoteps who came from all over Tokyo. We cut to Sanzo and others as Sanzo used his sacred artifact to release everyone from the future memory brainwashing. While Toji used his saved artifact to free transients from future memories. They still haven’t found Shiro, Kengo, or Ryota yet. The damage from the future transplant rejection seems to be severe but with some rest they should fine.

We cut Uzume as Amaterasu enters the room. Amaterasu ask Uzume if she’s okay. Uzume says she did something unnecessary. Amaterasu tells her it’s fine, even if she did nothing the Entertainers still would’ve gotten involved. Losing the locals was unexpected but fine since they were used as bait to lure MC. We then cut to Bael entering the center after he received instructions from Amaterasu. Bael knows Michael’s group have control over the Rule Makers but that doesn’t mean they’re strong. Michael is a person who guides the people he considers good. However, he believes that it is only natural that those who disobey ``God'' be punished. Amaterasu would also accept sacrifices if it was the best solution overall. Onyankopon is known for his unparalleled love for humans. The rule of this Tokyo ``game'' is that the minority has no place to lead the rules. The only reason they can move the other Rule Makers executives and soldiers like this is because they are in the majority. However, if you do anything that harms the local people, you will lose Onyankopon's support. That's why Michael and Amaterasu can't hurt the locals directly, especially in front of Onyankopon's subordinate who also loves human (Baphomet). Back to Michael, Michael knows that Baphomet works for Onyankopon and can’t use rough methods against Kokopelli who is human in front of them. Kokopelli points his gun at the ceiling and fires and hits a key point. Kokopelli says the will place will collapse soon. If Michael survive, he’ll see him again.

We cut elsewhere to Onyankopon and Daikoku. Daikoku is trying fish for info that will help his revenge. Elsewhere eleswhere, we see Oscar and Raven. Raven knows that Oscar was the one who leak info to Daikoku. Raven knows Daikoku’s plan is to break up the Rule Makers using their memory implants against them. We cut to Bael as he and some others confront the Alliance. He announce himself which shocks some of the other Ars Goetia demons. He says the old "mechanism" is about to disappear and a new "God" will be born to be replace it. Yoshito and Yasuyori are back to fight the Nobumichi and Masashi again this time switching opponents. Battle start.

After battle, we see Yoshito whispering he knows everything about Nobumichi. A simple way of life that always follows the will of the majority. Therefore, he has dedicated himself to being the strongest. But is it okay to live without a purpose, Nobumichi? We cut to Marchosias vs Bael. Bael says he knows about Marchosias. How he’s concerned about his former position as an angel. Marchosias sided with Shaytan during the rebellion and fell to Gahenna along with him. Marchosias says after coming to Tokyo he started to investigate the underworld. He learns that behind the scenes of Tokyo's game is an old organization called "Laboratory", which is said to have disappeared. It is said that they performed many experiments on the local people in Tokyo, including body modification. The former operation of the Prototype Death Game, which pitted the locals against each other using the Sacred Artifact without a "mechanism" for rewinding. It is said that the old management was destroyed by the members of the Otemachi Guild. So Kokopelli, the human half, is also from that same Cult School that Arc is from. But did they really become completely extinct? There are still survivors of the "Laboratory" in the upper floors of that Babel Tower. Just then the Exters rain down on the Future City setting it ablaze.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

This is a little something from @sheepispink idea with the grand sage reader

WC: 2.1k

The foreigner that appeared out of thin air was both a headache and a stress reliever for Al haitham.

One one hand how does one live such a mundane life for them to leave no traces behind yet somehow amass such a great and vast quantity of knowledge the own dendro archon wanted a personal meeting.

No matter where he went, how he asked or even who he asked al-haitham couldn't get a solid background. Yes, there seemed to be enough proof that you might have came from a lone village, some people think hearing baby cries and toddlers babbles around a seemingly desserted cabin, yet the local school held no record of you being enrolled, all 10 children there not matching your profile.

After months of searching there seems ti be only one answer. A natural prodigy that learned everything from scratch and some books people would leave on their tables.

After all, beggars can't be choosers and he assigns you the title of great sage. One down he guesses, less job left to do.

Traveler didn't seem too freaked out about it after all a natural prodigy was one of the more normal sounding things in his life right now. Up until a meeting nahida offered to take him.

"So you know everything" He asked breaking the silence that was formed long before they came. In a way he was assuring you were aware of their presence, too engrossed measuring some herbs that later he would find out were tea leaves.

"Traveler!" Nahida pitched in, already knowing you don't like being interrupted before the tea was served

" Mhm?" You didn't take your eyes off the bluish flowered you were measuring " some people say that. I think I know just enough to get by" the hot water was transferred from a ceramic teapot to a glass one, slowly infusing with the blue flowers

" The traveler wanted to ask you something" nahida was seated in a cushion facing you. You still were focused in your tea ritual, now cutting lemons and limes. You only answered with a little sound

" If you know so much, then you must know where my sister is." He sits straight as if already knowing you won't tell him straightforward

You take your time to answer, pouring everyone a cuo" I can't tell you that just yet" you squeeze the slice of lemon over your cup, slowly turning from blue to purple " that information isn't available to me just yet, my abilities have a limit. You know?"

" What?" Aether was surprised

" After the death of-" you stop, swiftly looking at nahida " my patron god my knowledge only extends to things that are set in stone, if the future might change then i can't know it. I'm sorry"

He noticed the quick way your eyes went over nahida when you mentioned death. Could you? " Nahida, can you let the traveler and I speak alone? We got private matters to speak of" nahida was a bit stunned but agreed

" The only thing that i know about lumine is that she is working closely with the abyss and that she won't let you get to her until you traveled and went through every if the seven nations, i guess she wants you to see the true nature of this world" one of your hands stirred the tea" from the laziness to the pride to the wrath" you sip the tea, leaning back " or so i think! It could be anything really!"

" You are not from this world " he simply said

" Ugh, don't tell me you also believe in that strange theory of me being an alien or something strange like that…"

" Then how do you explain knowing that Greater Lord Rukkhadevata isn't nahida. And the fact she di-" paimon insisted like a child wanting to get answers

" Enough" the hand around his shoulder wasn't specially heavy or painful yet it made him tense up" In the same way a kid can't order its parents around the Irminsul can't boss me around. Now. I think you should leave before I make you"

Aether looks up, eyes blown wide. Your patience preceded you, seeing you snap like that took him off guard. He leaves just as you ordered as does paimon

Your finger dances against the rim of the teacup lightly laughing " my god. He is so dumb to actually believe that fake acting. I was so close too cringing" you down the tea

" Maybe I went off too strong, but either way I needed him to believe I'm from this world" you cup your face between your hands " ugh, why did i have to slip like that with the nahida stuff. If they found out I'm from another word it would be such a pain"

You stand up and walk to the bedroom, your last meeting already done seeming and already tired of tomorrows occurrences, surely al-haitham would come first thing in the morning, asking about some niche subject, a few of the akademia students would come with the same problem as the others, and maybe if you were lucky you would get to walk around and help a seller or an ermite with a mundane inconvenience, get lunch and go on with a lazy life.

If only you could skip over to lunch everyday.

Just as you guessed at 6:30 on the dot al-haitham was knocking down on your door, and next to him was another test you guessed

" Morning. Hope you rested well" just as always he found you prepping the breakfast

" Thanks. I hope you slept well too"

" Today I just need you to name some plants I got. This test was specifically made by the biology branch and the forest rangers so i will be checking your answers with the piece of paper that was provided" you buttered a toast, sprinkling some spices over it

" They said these are the easiest ones, so let's get them out of the way"

A sunssettia, an apple and an harra fruit were set behind you. Just as you thought about it a screen appeared over each of them and you just read it out

" Those are are Syzygium samarangense, or a sunssettia" you pointed from the left to the right " Malus domestica, a common apple, and Terminalia chebula, harra fruit"

" Easy wasn't it?"

" I thought that you came over for a test, not a chat. I would have accepted your offering if you asked me out, scribe, you don't have to beat around the bush" you tease him, if he wasn't so stuck up you would have kissed him already.

" Hush" he places two leaves, one rounder and wider and other thin and long. Immediately two pages pop up. "They said these were a bit too specific so don't force it too much"

" Is the first one a liyue money plant?" Al-haitham nods lightly " and the other is citronella"

" Very well. All of them are right. Just as yesterday" you just smile mockingly

" Did you expect anything else from me?" He sighs and grabs a toast

" It's to make sure. How much cayenne did you add to the paste, i think it's too overbearing"

" Just 5 grams or so" you were already expecting that he wouldn't be content with the expected questions

" And this weighs around 340 grams" he weighs the bowl with one hand. He looks at you " how much of this dip is cayenne pepper? Quick"

A red and white page opens up, you quickly input a simple reason:

340gr — 100%

5gr — x%

Automatically the answer pops up in a red square

X% = 1.47059%

" Around 1.47%. Either way that bowl is a bit heavy so it could be a bit higher"

" It could be. Are you sure you only used 5 grams? It is a bit too spicy for breakfast.

" Oh i just estimated but I think I did add at least quadruple the amount " you laugh

" Well, goodbye. I hope tomorrow you will welcome me with something more edible." he grabs the leaves and papers he spread around the table before tucking them in his bag

"Even a baby could it this" you make fun of him "oow, is the little baby sad? Do you want milk or a change of diapers?"

" I think it is enough with your jokes" he seems irritated but deep down you know he find it funny

" If there is anyone outside, tell them I won't wake up until around 8." You beg him. You just want one breakfast without correcting an undergrad thesis

" I will. Don't worry"

He leaves and for a second you hold your breath.

1

2

3

4

5 seconds without someone knowing on your door. It feels like a dream. Grabbing an idli and a spoon with the spicy dip you slowly fill the idli before eating it. As soon as you swallow you are interrupted again

" Great sage! I beg you to please review my thesis" another student comes knocking on your door with tears in their eyes. If haven't gone through the pain they are suffering you would have kicked them out

" Let me have a look then" you must have sounded really annoyed given how quickly the student brought it out.

As soon as you open it a word- like document appears in front of it. The grammatical errors are in red, the orthographic mistakes in yellow and the things that were wrong fundamentally were highlighted in purple

" Fundamentally you made no mistakes, everything is true. But you should check these sentences." You tap the handle edge of the spoon against the paper where the document was marked red

" It could be read better as 'Its object is a practical one, to determine by scientific considerations the shape of lens best adapted to improve the capabilities of the telescope, which had been invented not long before.' Maybe you could expand on this and it would be very interesting to see this too " you write some annotations on a spare napkin.

" !!! Thanks a lot grand sage" she grabs the napkins and looks over them before reaching for the door

" Hey kid!" She looks over her shoulder " make sure to eat something. You almost blacked out standing up too fast " she smiles and waves you goodbye

As soon as she left a merchant dressed in fine silks marches in, you already knew him, he already visited you with questions about investments

" Mhm? Why are you visiting again? Having questions about what to invest in again?" You open and fill another idli and swallow it whole

" Not this time, grand sage!" He laughs loudly " I just wanted to run this by you. It's the estimated budget for the carpets the akademia asked for! " He beams, he might be a bit old, maybe old enough to be your father but he still keeps that youthful shine.

" Mh… I think there is a mistake. This is the budget for 18 green emerald carpets and 25 brown jars. The akademia asked for 55 green emerald carpets but also 40 brown coffee ones" you read over the codes written at the side comparing them to the ones that were on your Excel. It's a good thing you saved the pricing list of this merchant's items with its code when he showed it to you

" oh?" His smile drops as he looks at the paper, after noticing the mistake he apologizes " I'm sorry, I should have checked to make sure I got the right one, if you wait for me a few minutes I could have someone run up to my house-"

Using the same pen you wrote the notes for the student you write on the back of the sheet " well i kind of remember the prices so let me make a draft and if it's too different return here." Quickly sliding the ink around the paper you form messy words " the price for one of the green carpets was 2000 mora but it was an outdated price so let standardized it with the other merchants and leave it at…" a page displays the prices of certain items, the carpet being " 2300, we want 55 of those so 126500 mora for that. The price of the brown one is a bit more expensive so let's leave it at 2500 leaving us at 226500 total. " You finally take a deep breath giving him the note

The man looks at you, face slightly pale "uh? I- I will compare, if the price is too different i will send you the correct one" he fold the page over itself with the new contents inside before putting it in the pocket of his coat

You look at the wall clock, you just finished breakfast and already want it to be lunch and finish all your duties.

" Well then. Who is next?" You yell to the door trying to pick up the pace. Slowly as the caffeine floods your veins you feel a bit more cheery " let's see who I can help today"

[narrators-journal]

Akeshu, trans!joker yandere!akechi 26 and 31? Awa

Okay, so...since this is already a massive practice piece for me, I’m just gonna go ahead and go full steam ahead into offering a bunch of variety in my smut for this month. That being said, if this is in any way offensive, I’m sorry. I have little to no experience writing trans character smut, and I don’t know where the line is on simple smut, or the bad sort of sexualization. So! If this is at all offensive or tasteless, don’t be surprised if it gets deleted. But! For now, I hope this fits your criteria. I hope it’s good and yandere-ish, and I hope that, while light, your request for Akira to be trans is in there. I tried to keep the level of trans that he is (fully transitioned or top surgery only) a bit up to reader discresion.

EDIT: This one was another one that I felt I sort of half-assed the first time. So, I returned to it to hopefully pump more detail into it! I hope the improvement is clear for return readers, and I hope new readers will find it more enjoyable. I also hope I continued to be respectful to the trans community with the rewrite!

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: Kidnapping, obsession, yandere behavior in general, dubcon/noncon is at least implied, breeding is in there too, at least in passing, though it is admittedly a bit light on the body worship, even with the edit. Also, some gagging is tossed in too, and bondage.

Akira Kurusu. Joker, leader of the phantom thieves. An infuriatingly beautiful man with shaggy, coal-colored that was in a perpetual state of bedhead, fair skin decorated with the scars of his battles, and dark grey eyes kept behind thick fashion glasses. A man who’s body was sculpted for gymnastics but had the strength of a boxer, was a beautiful sight for Goro Akechi’s red eyes.

Though, that fact didn’t make him any less of a porcupine, as his looks were only one of the barbs that the phantom thief had left embedded in Akechi’s chest. The other quill was his personality. His sharp tongue, compassion, along with the impressive ingenuity and determination beneath the ravenette’s quiet awkwardness. He had infected the brunette’s brain like a disease ever since he’d learned of the flashy, arrogant man. It drove Akechi mad. Even now, when the ravenette was safely kept a few floors away from Akechi at any moment. Even as the second coming of the detective prince pounded into his captive, Akira’s hold on him seemed unwavering.

Especially when his thoughts were simmered down to little more than the ravenette’s most carnal desires. Tied down to the cheap, creaky bedframe that bounced off of the insulated walls of his cell, the ID tags on his thick leather collar softly jostled by each of Akechi’s rough thrusts into his warm, lubricated hole. It all served to simply amplify the bliss that coursed through the brunette’s veins with each movement.

And why shouldn’t the detective enjoy the spoils of his trials? Of his gorgeous rival helplessly gagged beneath him? His wrists tied by shibari rope above his head, lean muscles exposed to the basement’s cool air for the brunette to drink in. His many scars from the detective prince’s persona, or the gender confirming surgery that he’d gotten at some point in his past, the way that the tip of his navel collected sweat as he twitched and writhed in reluctant pleasure. He had a right to relish the gentle curves of his physique, of the squeeze of Akira’s asshole, or thighs around his waist. Especially when he was balls deep and high on the mixture of ecstasy and sadistic joy that came from every squeak of fear that slipped through the ballgag.

Though, spite and sadism weren’t the only things that fuelled Akechi’s pleasure, there was also the simple pleasure that came from the friction of Akira’s ass around his cock. And, the knowledge of how nobody but him would ever get to see Joker’s face red with lust was another factor to consider. A particularly drug-like one, too. So, the feral brunette was willing to go to any length to keep that fact true.

I’ll cut you open. I’ll decorate you with marks. He thought as his crimson eyes admired the way Akira’s belly muscles flexed and twitched beneath his fair skin. I’ll knock you up. I’ll breed you like the bitch you are. Akechi continued to think, a wicked grin on his lips as his movements lost rhythm to the unhinged pleasure. It doesn’t matter if you can realistically get pregnant, I’ll breed you. He thought at the ravenette, though he couldn’t seem to verbalize the words. I’ll find a way to trap you with me. Make sure you can never escape me, even if you get out of this god damned basement, Kurusu.

Akechi let loose a deep, growling moan into the cooled air of the basement at that thought. The bubble in his belly turned to a tsunami of warmth with only a handful more thrusts. Thick, warm ribbons of cum poured into the phantom thief’s belly. I don’t care...I’ll make you mine, forever.

[lemurzsquad]

Music to Owl Ears

After suddenly moving from America to Japan with only passable knowledge of the local language, you begin to attend Fukurodani Academy for their music program. And within the first five minutes of being there, you're accidentally knocked right into the shenanigans of the volleyball team, especially their famous owl ace.

Prologue

Pairing: Bokuto x musician fem!reader

Summary: The reader is an American who has suddenly moved to Japan, attending Fukurodani Academy for its music program. (Full summary and cw in masterlist)

A/N: This is absolutely a shameless self-insert. I wanted a cute Bokuto x reader fic with a musician, specifically one that plays my main instruments, so this also serves as a love letter to all my fellow musicians out there. I will try to update this when I can, and I can add a taglist if anyone is interested TvT this is my first Haikyuu fic, so hopefully it's alright.

I hope you enjoy!!

Word count: 725

cw: slight emotional rollercoaster for reader

"Bold for English"

"Normal for Japanese"

- Masterlist -

- Prologue | Ch 1: Jogging Laps >

You stood at the entrance, the sign reading “Fukurodani Academy”; although, you’re certain you would not have been able to make out what it said given you didn't already know the name.

It was about to be your first day in a new school year, in a new school, in a new country. Did being a third year with barely passable Japanese and no friends terrify you? Absolutely. But, unfortunately, the only thing to do now was take that step onto campus and start, you supposed.

And so you did. The first step wasn't so bad, it seemed. The next seemed easier, perhaps. The nervous shaking you felt in your hands was becoming ever more apparent as you clutched your bag that in and of itself felt weird, considering you were so used to a heavy backpack.

All that was left was to make it to class and all would be right with the world. You could begin the school year on a positive note with no incidents right off the bat and a fresh start. It was simple, really.

But oh, you knew better than to jinx it, even in your own head.

You took a deep breath and tried your best to put on a smile just for yourself. You thought, I can do this. It'll be fine. What could possibly happen on my way there? And there it was.

You quietly let out the breath you held for a moment as you attempted to push down the nagging anxieties that tried to resurface. In a stroke of bad luck—or good luck, depending on how you looked at it, maybe years from then—you failed to hear the sounds of shoes hitting pavement behind you. In an instant, it all came crashing down; you were slammed in the shoulder, throwing you off balance. You barely managed to stop yourself from falling face first into the concrete, instead landing on your back, braced by your elbows.

As you stared ahead, completely and utterly stunned and staggered, you sat up. It was then that everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

You were completely blindsided when all the emotions you had narrowly kept behind a dam inevitably flooded through you. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at how ridiculous it was that simply falling over finally broke you and your patchy attempt to bottle everything in, so you did both.

There you sat at the edge of the entrance to Fukurodani Academy, laughing as anguished tears dripped down your cheeks. The fear and emotional distress of moving to Japan was hitting you for, truly, the first time, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You hiccuped in spurts, disbelief and bewilderment at your own reaction running through your mind while a pained grin sat plastered on your tear-stained, reddened face.

You didn't notice the figure, now standing in front of you, shouting, “BOKUTO!” off to the side and further down the sidewalk. You didn't notice when they exchanged worried glances that you might be hurt and unsure how to react to your state of hysteria.

Eventually you calmed down enough to return the confused looks that peered down at you. You made eye contact with worried blue and guilty gold before stuttering out with an embarrassed chuckle, “Sorry, I must have not been paying attention and– oh, wait—” When you see their eyes widen slightly, you realized you had instinctively started apologizing in English as a default and quickly corrected yourself to a simple, “Sorry…” in Japanese with your still heavy American accent.

You gave them a lopsided smile as you wiped your tears. You could never have imagined at the time, as you were grabbed by the shoulders and hoisted to your feet with such strength you could only let it happen in your dazed state, that it would be the defining pivot in what could have been a prison of loneliness and isolation in a new year, in a new school, in a new country. But, while you were overwhelmed with a torrent of apologies and “sorry”’s and “please, please, please forgive me”’s, the key to your unlocked cell seemed to be snatched and thrown where no one could have possibly found it again.

And, just maybe, you considered tempting fate more often in the future.

Thank you for reading!! <333

- Masterlist -

- Prologue | Ch 1: Jogging Laps >

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[nezumidou]

I've been thinking about the degree of loss experienced by Laudna, given the last episode. Not in relation to her actions, but in her experiences in general. And it feels so infinitely vast...

She lost her life at the hands of the Briarwoods in a horrific way. With the responsibility of a better future for herself and her family, she ended up serving as an effigy just because of her apparent resemblance to a person she had never heard of before. She was separated from her parents, then tortured, and they also died in circumstances that have not been detailed. She woke up hanging from a tree in a body she didn't fully recognize as her own. She was stripped of her identity until she lost even her name at some point along the way. She was unable to return to her home, either because it no longer existed or because she had to flee the town due to her undead status. Maybe she couldn't carry too many belongings with her, or she lost them along the way—her most valuable belongings were part of the costume she wore when she died. She also suffered a sudden plunge into total poverty. An even deeper one than what she experienced during her previous life. These losses were not only deeply personal, but they also represented the loss of a whole community. And just like that, Laudna found herself to be the last remnant of a past that no longer exists as it once did.

I've been thinking about how we'd see those days depicted. I envision the undead roaming the streets of Whitestone, amidst the wrecked streets and ruined buildings, and the corpses strewn across the ziggurat. How many bodies? How many lives? She lost not only her family, but also her neighbors and the people she frequently encountered in her daily life. It's the absolute loss of everything she has known. The erasure of her Whitestone.

A community is a source of identity for those who belong to it. Every community possesses unique traditions, values, social norms, and a wealth of knowledge cultivated through generations and countless interactions. That's all part of Laudna's loss, too.

After everything was set and done, the survivors of an event like the one that occurred in Whitestone surely relied on each other to begin rebuilding their lives. They searched for their loved ones and found a way to honor their departure. At the same time, the collective established strategies to deal with the destruction of both their bodies and their lifestyle, their economy, their political institutions, and their human capital (how many family lines simply ceased to exist?). Over the years, they managed to re-establish their identity as Whitestone residents in one way or another.

But not Laudna. She woke up to the desolation of a completely destroyed community, unable to access validation for the atrocities experienced. In the blink of an eye, she was transformed into something foreign. To the point where her name, along with those who shared the same fate in the Sun Tree, is undoubtedly absent from the historical accounts of the events. Was there even time to do something for them? No one in her family survived, so no one searched for her. And as far as we know, no one took the time to put a story behind those bodies either.

She lost her life in every sense. She lost her body in a variety of ways. She lost her community and was left behind when it was time to rebuild. What happens when the conflict seems to be over for everyone except you? When peace talks take place while you are still struggling to survive? When it's only you, the memories, and your killer's voice in your head?

Sometimes I think about Laudna's loss. And I'm struck by the brutality of those initial moments and their heartbreaking manifestation years later.

[deducter]

Suicide or not? (experiment results)

This, dear readers, is the moment you've been eagerly anticipating: the results of the experiment. The path to the answer I've obtained, a curious journey devised by my own inquisitive mind.

Let me begin by explaining the purpose behind it all, followed by the details of the journey and the ultimate revelation.

So, what was the underlying objective of this experiment, and where did it originate? The rubber experiment was crafted to determine, when all that remains is a mere rubber, whether it was a case of suicide or murder. You might wonder, how is such a determination possible?

By discerning whether the deceased was right-handed or left-handed (or, in the most challenging scenario, ambidextrous, much like myself).

It all commenced when I found myself plagued by the wretched state of boredom; Then, a question arose within me.

 Initially, I believed it might be achievable simply by observing rubbers. Thus, I embarked upon collecting data. I 'borrowed' numerous rubbers from my fellow students, meticulously examining each one. Alas, no answer presented itself through such means. You see, it all hinged on how one scrutinizes the rubber, on the perspective (angle) from which it is observed. 

And so, I delved into my knowledge of chemistry, conducting a modest research to identify the appropriate substance for examining the rubbers. Initially, I experimented with the talc powder I possessed, acquired from a fingerprint identifier kit.

Alas, the talc powder proved ineffective in my pursuit. Undeterred, I intensified my research, delving deeper into my reservoir of knowledge and scouring through various books and trusted articles.

With perseverance, I managed to narrow down the options to two potential substances. The first contender was Lugol's iodine, while the second was low-sulphur graphite powder. 

So, armed with all the necessary materials and a collection of rubber covers, I embarked on my quest. Initially, I had grand aspirations of conducting these experiments within the confines of our humble kitchen. However, alas, it soon became apparent that such a choice would be far from environmentally friendly. Let us conveniently overlook the certain wrath that would befall me if I were to proceed, courtesy of my mother.

I was fortunate enough to discover a lab that would serve as the ideal setting for my experiments, a stroke of luck that ranks among the finest moments in my endeavours. From this point forward, with the newfound laboratory at my disposal, I shall be posting a series of intriguing experiments.

Accompanied by my colleague, I ventured into the lab to commence the iodine experiment. 

In its unaltered state, the experiment dictated the amalgamation of potassium iodide (KI) with copper(II) sulfate (CuSO4), resulting in the formation of iodine molecules (I2). However, as Lugol's iodine already encompasses iodine molecules, I deemed it unnecessary to follow that particular course. Iodine, known for its volatility, possesses a proclivity for evading solution boundaries with ease. Nevertheless, an ample array of surfaces exists upon which iodine molecules readily affix themselves.

One notable exemplar is fats, for iodine exhibits exceptional solubility within them. Considering that fingerprints predominantly consist of fats, even the meagre traces of fatty substances present on our fingertips possess the capacity to harbour a sufficient quantity of iodine molecules. Consequently, these otherwise imperceptible fingerprints transmute into a distinctive hue of dark brown, rendering them conspicuously visible.

Alas, it didn’t work. Failing is not the thing I just accept, and I had to find out why it happened. I actually expected this because rubber covers are made out of polyethylene. It is a type of thermoplastic polymer – and that thing, ruined the whole experiment. But I also did the experiment with a plain white paper, and it worked, as you can observe in this low-quality photo. 

In the midst of my investigation, I turned to my final recourse: the enigmatic graphite powder. Its application yielded captivating outcomes. As you can discern, the fingerprint loops have become discernible, and their inclination provides vital clues. From the tilt of these loops, I can deduce that the rubber in question was wielded by a right-handed individual. Curiously, though, this rubber belongs to me, and I am, in fact, ambidextrous. Nevertheless, it is evident that it has predominantly been employed by my right hand, the hand that I write with most of the time. 

As you can see, the loops are tilted to the side that I showed with the little red arrow. By that, I identified that I held it with my right hand.

You can’t deny the beauty of this experiment. So go on and try it. 

-ND

[calla-celtigar]

the missive of the prince

a dialogue within @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood, a closed starter with @goldaegontargaryen

Calla stared down at the missive lying before her desk as if it were a living creature. It could have leaped up and snapped its jaws at her, but the expression would not have changed. The words swirled on the parchment as she read them over and over. She had the pieces to solve this mystery, but not enough. She did not have enough knowledge, enough detail, enough of the man who sent it. She had stared down at the sentences when they had arrived the night earlier, but nothing had changed except for the day and the impending meeting ahead. The vague sense of apprehension remained.

Prince Aegon Targaryen loomed in her mind like a specter, not necessarily malicious, but there. Aegon and Helaena’s return to King’s Landing had certainly taken much of her time while serving Princess Rhaenyra, but Calla had not anticipated a personal invitation given the events happening around them. That, she had not predicted and that she did not like. She knew the Aegon of years ago, the prince who partied, whored, and cared not for his position besides the benefits it offered. She knew that prince from just a few interactions and the reputation he had. Those interactions had been surrounded by drink and festivity, which Calla partook but only enjoyed privately. The prince of that time enjoyed such things publicly for the entire court to witness. But this prince, the Prince of Dragonstone, differed based on all the rumors she had heard. In the days before, she doubted that Prince Aegon remembered her, but the letters on the parchment page proved her wrong. It set her on age, especially given King Viserys’s worsening condition and the tension seething through the castle. Death was not the end of power, but in fact, it's beginning. The scavengers would soon come, and some already had with their poisonous whispers.

She stared dimly at the sunset shining through her chamber's windows, a rich red spreading across the sky with a breeze that gently stroked the loosened braids upon her head. Calla wanted nothing more than to watch and fall into a restless sleep after a tiresome day, but the letter and the prince beckoned. Sparing one lingering glance at the parchment, Calla rose from her chair and left the comfort of her chambers, silent as a ghost. It was time to indulge her curiosity about what the prince had become and, more importantly, understand why he had need of her. 

The walk was not long for someone who had lived in the Keep for years, memorized so deeply that Calla remained engrossed in her thoughts. She had not told Rhaenyra about the letter, the meeting, or anything related to Aegon beyond what Rhaenyra already knew. The fact that she had not said anything wracked her mind like bloody claws. Calla did not wish to add more concern to Rhaenyra’s mind, given the stress her Princess already endured. Rhaenyra was weary of what was happening in the castle. This was an affair that Calla understood as her own, only to be spoken of after the fact. Calla practiced the upcoming words in her mind, chanting the possibilities like a septon at prayer. But Calla did not pray. She never had; she simply believed and did what one could have wished from the gods.

But the words quieted as she stood in front of the door to where Prince Aegon had called her. Calla straightened her spine as the guards opened the door before her, a servant rushing forward to lead her to the Prince. Calla wrung her hands behind her back, a cool mask of neutrality on her face, striding through the room behind the hurried pace of the servant. At last, she stood before Prince Aegon Targaryen, meeting his eyes before sweeping into a deep yet impeccable curtsy. He looked like the prince she remembered, only older.

“Prince Aegon.” Calla spoke lowly as she lifted herself to her full height, standing opposite him for the length of the room.

“While I am sure many of King’s Landing and beyond have honored your family’s return, I also offer my welcome back to the capital.” The words lingered in the air. They were not untrue in the slightest, but they both knew this was a conversation of business. Calla had answered his call, and soon, she would answer the questions the prince had of her.

[rebelichor]

MEDIEVAL

Ariadne Xeha Nihilis of the noble house Deleoux, first of her name, firstborn twin. Daughter of bravery, skies and tide. Forged of ichor and blood. Demigoddess of unseen forces. Naa of Xe tribe.

Ariadne is all that she is and all that she will become because of her twin brother, Vergil. Like ebb and flow, they maintain balance, and together they are stronger.

Ariadne is known across the Kinglands as the silver witch. It is a cold reputation, one that plays on peoples fear of the unknown. She is a master of that which the eye cannot see... What her reputation fails to acknowledge is the one behind it. The girl. Ariadne. The world is cruel but she is not. She seeks to be fair. To be honest. To have a merciful heart. However, the walls she has built around herself are a fortress, and she herself fears her own power, of losing control. It is better to keep the world at arms length with a reputation that pushes others away.

With maturity, she becomes a wayfarer with an adventurers heart, wishing to explore the world and to seek out knowledge whether it's yet to be found or long forgotten. Ariadne has documented several star maps with her celestial navigation, surveyed the flora and fauna of distant lands, and explored ruins from ages long since passed. Throughout her lifetime she expands the trade of goods across the waters, discovers natural medicines, and has hand written invaluable tomes for the scholars of her age.

Maternal grandparents Mahasra, goddess of the oceans. The Tidemother and patron goddess of Galahd. Celebrated for her fierce battle prowess and nurturing heart, she is a symbol for warriors and close family ties. Respect and maintaining balance is key. Galahdan's often warn fellow seafarers about only ever taking what is needed from the ocean and nothing more, else Mahara will reclaim the debt from seawrecks and catastrophic waves.

Xe, god of the night sky. Best known as simply the moon god, he is multifaceted — flamboyant with stars upon his skin and moonlight braided in his hair, the life of the party, full of laughter and mischief. But behind the mask that makes him difficult to read, he feels, and he feels deeply. His most devoted followers make home in the Tribelands, in a tribe of his namesake.

Mother Xemos, first of house Nihilis, goddess of eclipses, shadows, and dark tides. Xemos is as feared as they are misunderstood. They are a goddess of the road less traveled, of the unknown, and what has yet to be explored. They were not the first of the Reborn Pantheon to choose a life among mankind, but they are among the first to fully integrate into human society and remain within the mortal realm. Those who move within the shadows pray to Xemos — the downtrodden, the persecuted, and the criminal.

Paternal grandparents Menrva, goddess of the sky. Also known as the Skymother or Queen of the Gods. Though she is the most well known of all the gods and goddesses, little is known about her. She is a distant goddess, and deeply private, though surprisingly this has only served to elevate her status among mankind. Menrva ushered in a new age — having traveled from a dying star, she led fellow gods and goddesses to a new home. They were all young, minors among the Primordial Pantheon, and they made the heartbreaking decision to leave their dying home. To leave what was left of their families who refused to flee out of fear they would become dead without rest. To defy the end of days for a hope of another tomorrow. For this, Menrva is praised as a radiant leader among her peers, her word is law, and her law is absolute. The Kinglands pray to one Goddess for guidance, and she is always depicted with a solar crown.

Lazarus, former head of the noble house Deleoux, also known as the crownless King, whose selfless deeds elevated him to that of a folk hero of his age. Grounded and chivalrous, he was the mortal Prince who fell in love with Menrva and sought to prove himself worthy of her affection. There are those that confuse his tale as that of a man who sought godhood, when he stripped himself of his birthright to inherit his father's crown, and when he sold his material possessions to found the humble beginnings of the home of scholars, he did so for betterment of people, all people, not only the rich.

Father Lazentis Deleoux, demigod of order and divine protector of mankind. He is the first and the only child of Menrva and Lazarus, a golden child among gods and mortals. Before he drew his first breath he had impossible standards expected of him, and he will strive until his dying day to not only meet, but to exceed each and every one of them. He is a gentleman and a perfectionist whose work is never done, but do not test his patience or good will. He has the kind of stern gaze that can cut a person down without so much as a word. Lazentis is best known among scholars and knights, he receives few prayers because those that look to him look for the strength of his convictions.