#HOOOOO boy this is long....

[thelovers-2001]

Hello, it is I! It is Meer03 rambling time

On this very late evening, I need to talk about my self-inserts that I plan to work soon. I was thinking about P03 and the self-inserts pop in my thoughts.

This is going to be VERY long so it's going under the Read More.

Inscryption spoilers ahead.

CW : Talks of death and murder. Lots of tradegy.

Now I mostly draw sona x canon; P03 with my persona (even though I have yet to finalise her design). It's for fun, comfort and doesn't have a plot.

However there are two self-inserts I thought of; and when I meant "self-inserts" with an "s", I mean they're the same person but two different roles. AU versions kinda.

Her name is Ophelia. Or that's what you're meant to believe.

The truth is "Ophelia" was never her real name. She used a fake name only until her death¹/disappearance² is when the characters, both the Scrybes and the other NPCs, use it as her real name. It seems they want her hidden, especially P03.

As I mentioned, they are two versions of Ophelia.

The first is Ophelia in Luke Carder's role, finding the coordinates to the floppy disk buried by Kaycee Hobbes. This one's pretty straightforward and most of the plot is the same. The only change is Act 3 with P03 and Ophelia having a lot more bonding experience and grew close. This also changes the three Scrybes' sabotage with Ophelia questioning whether to let Leshy dealt his final blow or let P03 know their plan and betray them (Spoiler alert : It's the latter).

I'm still muddled on what happens afterward. I thought of Ophelia managed to hid away the Scrybes away from P03 via coding, her disrupting The Great Transcendence by disconnecting the connection to the Internet, her hiding from Gamefuna who were trying to get her copy.... Yeah, it's not very clear how it goes. Except the ending.

From what I remember, it was revealed P03 did survived and completed uploading Inscryption. So I thought of something grim.

Perhaps what Leshy did to P03 did happen, and Inscryption did get deleted. Ophelia dies but not by a bullet to the head. Instead she was strangled, a much sadistic way to die. P03 was there. As he uploads, he hears it happening.

Okay. Okay let's get to the second role.

This is a bit different. This is based on P03 in Kaycee's Mod and I thought "Y'know... What if that's it's own thing?"

Here's what I thought of... Ophelia's Mod. Ophelia is in Kaycee's role and instead of Leshy taking control, it's P03.

Unlike Kaycee's Mod, Ophelia's Mod was lost media. After hiding the floppy disk, it seemed Ophelia disappeared out of thin air. In this universe, Luke Carder never found Inscryption. She successfully left no trails to the disk.

Until one player did.

P03 is very aware of this; shocked of how someone managed to find the disk, especially this mod. He's aware the player he faces with isn't Ophelia. Gameplay aside, the mod has secrets to find. The player learns the lore of the mysterious creator as well as P03's relationship with her. The creator he swore to never reveal and wants to forever stay a secret.

That's all I have for now.

[mumms-the-word]

Gale's Netherese Orb

The Condition and Symptoms

You asked for it! You're getting it! Yet another deep dive, this time about Gale's orb functioning as a chronic impairment/disability and the ways that a cure is dangled in front of him and even withheld from him.

Disclaimer: a lot of this has already been discussed by lore-wizards like galedekarios or mezzziah and some information is going to come from actual-lea's wild playthrough of the Gale Origin where they didn't give him any magic items just to see what would happen (which I recreated quickly in my own game to gather screenshots and gifs of my own). I'm not going to tag any of them because I don't want to bother them, but if you want even more lore, you can and should check them out!

We're going to look at Gale's orb "condition" in three phases: the effects of the orb on Gale's body itself, the ways that he has to treat it, and the potential cure for the orb. Because my deep dives always get a little out of hand, I’m splitting this into 3 posts. So you can take and leave whatever you like, but I'll link the masterlist to all 3 parts here once I have them posted!

But without further ado, let's deep dive!

I've said before that Baldur's Gate 3 is ultimately a game about cure—finding a cure for ceremorphosis, specifically. Every companion is facing a (potentially lethal) forced transformation into a squid creature in seven days or less unless they find a cure. At least, that's what they think before they realize that their tadpoles are special. On top of that, several characters, including Gale, especially Gale, are also dealing with additional chronic conditions that they wish to cure.

Let's set aside the search for the tadpole cure for a minute and focus on Gale—his character arc, his goals, even the text for his questline. The moment that Gale steps out of his pod on the nautiloid, he has a twofold goal: find a way to cure or treat the hungering orb in his chest and find a way to cure or stop ceremorphosis, in part because turning into a mind flayer may destabilize the orb, thus making the orb the bigger or more significant problem for Gale personally.

In other words, on two fronts, Gale's entire plot is concerned about curing a chronic, potentially lethal condition (or two), but the orb is the bigger issue between the two. Turning into a mind flayer is one thing, turning into a cataclysmic explosion that could "level a city the size of Waterdeep" is another.

The Wizard of Waterdeep Objectives - Escape the nautiloid I was an archmage - powerful, proud, full of potential - until my failed attempt to impress my lover, the goddess Mystra, left me with a volatile 'orb' of Netherese-corrupted Weave in my chest. Keeping it stable is difficult at the best of times...and these are far from the best of times. I've been abducted by mind flayers, infected with one of their tadpoles. So far the orb appears unaffected, but I can't count on that for long. I need to get back to Faerûnian soil before it begins to hunger.

Despite being infected by illithid tadpoles, Gale's larger concern is that staying in the hells will make feeding the orb difficult. When he gets off the nautiloid, he's worried that turning into a mind flayer will completely destabilize the orb. It's his primary concern and will continue to be so throughout the game.

Narrator: Despite your recent fall from the nautiloid, you are miraculously unharmed. Apart from the volatile orb of Netherese magic buried within your chest, of course. It stirs softly. Soon it will hunger, and when that time comes it must be fed. Starve it, and you risk triggering a cataclysmic explosion of raw, unfettered Weave. Such an explosion will be unavoidable, if the tadpole in your skull triggers ceremorphosis. An outcome definitely best avoided.

So, yeah, the squid thing is a problem, but Gale is definitely more concerned about exploding. But exploding and "hungering" aren’t the only things the orb does to his body.

I’m going to break down the actual condition into three smaller segments: the words Gale uses to talk about his condition, the physical effects that Gale describes happening to him, and the mechanical gameplay effects. I’ll talk more about the actual “hunger” of the orb in part 2 when I talk about its treatment, in part because the hunger and the treatment are both magical effects and are intrinsically linked. But for now, let's start with a look at how Gale talks about the orb.

Call it a Condition

To start off, Gale describes having the orb in his chest along the same lines that people might discuss chronic impairments or chronic illness. It's not a minor "issue" or a "problem" that is disconnected from Gale's body and physical/mental health; instead, he calls it a "condition," a "malady," and even a "chronic impairment." He couches the condition in terms that evoke illness and unwellness.

Gale: You see, I have this...condition. Very different from the parasites we share, but just as deadly. Player: What kind of condition? Gale: The specifics are rather personal, but suffice it to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with - though not without some effort. Player: (Durge) You also feel disgust by how life, miserable as it is, insists of persisting in this most wretched world? / (Tav) Is it contagious? Gale: No, no - nothing like that. Though if I fail to treat it then the consequences would not be contained to me alone. Player: Can it be cured? Gale: No, it cannot be cured. And I assure you I've left no page unturned in reaching that conclusion. I can keep this condition under control, as indeed I've done for a significant amount of time, but that was under different circumstances altogether. Home, in Waterdeep. What it comes down to is this: every so often I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the Weave inside.

Player (Ranger): I think I might have a dock leaf in my bag, or some medicinal berries... Gale: Thank you for the offer, but the treatment for my condition is very specific.

Gale: The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence.

In Gale's first conversation with the player about the orb, which is where all of the above comes from, he uses language related to illness and chronic pain/impairment to discuss the orb. It's a "condition," it is a "malady" that requires "treatment," it is a "chronic impairment," and so on.

Generally, at first, he speaks lightly about it and even continues to joke about his condition ("my tower in Waterdeep has never been so free of clutter" and so on), but the reality is he's underplaying the actual physical toll it takes on his body. When you ask him what happens if he doesn't consume any artifacts, he'll briefly describe some symptoms to you that aren't obvious to the player character. Which brings us to...

The Physical Symptoms

This is how he describes the initial physical symptoms of the orb's hunger:

Gale: I'll spare you the finer details, but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left for too long...catastrophe.

In other places, we see the orb's hunger/pain also affecting his ability to think clearly, suggesting he's experiencing a kind of brain fog or concentration issue, plus general discomfort, and a feeling like something is gnawing at his insides, as seen in various lines below.

Gale: You'll have to speak slowly. I'm finding it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten. Gale: Somehow the second artefact hasn't had the effect of the first. It's somewhat relieved the discomfort, but I fear my hunger hasn't quite... Ahh...* Gale: But... this doesn't feel quite right... It never feels right, but it relieves. This doesn't relieve... Ahh...* *devnote: Near the end of the line he's in discomfort, in pain

This is all from the second artifact conversation, when you give him the second item to try and feed the orb's hunger (the last line is a lower approval/you've-been-begrudging-about-items kind of line, so he's still being closed off with you). When you hear these lines in the game, he's obviously speaking with discomfort and with difficulty, as if trying to string words together despite the pain. His little comments as you travel with him/as him while he is dealing with arcane hunger also reference weakness, pain, and concentration issues.

- I'm feeling rather unsteady... - Deep breaths, Gale. Hold it together. - I'd be rather enjoying this journey, were I not wracked with pain. - One step in front of the other, Gale. - Ugh, I feel rotten. devnote: Slightly pained/struggling with a constant ache (the orb is negatively affecting him, causing him pain. Prompt is to remind the player that Gale is unwell.) [mumm's note: there are other lines as well, beyond these, and Gale will say them at random, so there's no progression into better or worse. This is just a sample of the lines.]

Given everything so far, I suspect the pain he feels is a combination of heart/chest pain, like one might feel during an anxiety attack, a POTS flare-up, or even a heart attack, while the gnawing sensation could be like hunger cramps (or any other internal cramping, though I think for Gale it feels higher up in his body than in his stomach, given the orb's location).

I highly suspect the orb is feeding off of not only his magic, but his body as well. We know it feeds off his magic specifically (more on this in the other two parts, especially because this detail doesn't come to light until Gale meets with Mystra). But given the pains and the way he frames his condition as a state of deterioration, it's likely that it's also feeding off energy stores and other biological/physical elements of his body, not unlike how extreme hunger can cause your body to essentially eat itself—your fat stores first, but eventually even your muscle tissues and other vital tissues.

(I've seen someone suggest this is why Gale has "dehydration state" chiseled abs like movie stars have because the orb is literally eating away at his fat/energy stores and so on. It's a compelling theory!)

The orb also weakens him, likely causes massive fatigue, and even seems to be draining his "spirit" or his mental capabilities. We see this in descriptions of Arcane Hunger (which are below). It's a wonder this man can put one foot in front of the other if the pain is particularly bad.

In addition to all the other physical symptoms, the orb itself has physically scarred his body with the marking on his chest, which is also bruising pretty significantly (though this "bruising" could just as likely be dark-colored magic just beneath his skin, your headcanon/mileage may vary).

Photo credits: @elspethdekarios, though I cropped them down for this deep dive

If you click on the images and zoom in, you can see how the markings have a bit of depth and texture to them, as opposed to the flat lines of a tattoo. The lines are carved into his skin. Certain lighting will also make the mark look darker or lighter, and make the bruising at the center faint or noticeably dark. There are some theories that the bruising gets worse as the game goes on, but I think it's just a lightning issue (though it would be interesting if the bruising gets darker with each new level of arcane hunger, or something to that effect).

Lastly, and I'll discuss this more in part 2, even when the orb does not actively pain Gale, it "stirs." Other references from the narrator reveal that the orb "shudders" or "prickles" within him. Gale can feel the movement of the orb inside his body, possibly like a weird fluttering or vibration in his chest. It's likely why, even when he isn't actively hungering, he'll put his hand over his chest and adjust his shoulders, as if reacting to a strange and slightly uncomfortable sensation within his chest.

Anyway, long story short, the physical symptoms of dealing with the hungering orb are:

Biological deterioration (like hunger, the body consuming itself, muscles weakening, etc)

Muscle spasms

Disorientation

Ringing in the ears

Difficulty concentrating/brain fog/mental fatigue

Cramping and/or chest pain

General discomfort and pain

Physical fatigue/feelings of weakness

Scarring and bruising from the orb itself

A sensation of the orb "stirring" even when not painful

And this man will joke about it.

Honestly, his ability to joke and discuss his condition with humor is a sign to me that he really is experiencing and thinking of the orb the same way people with chronic conditions think about their pain or illnesses. At the start of the game, Gale's condition is incurable—Gale says as much himself that it "cannot be cured." It can only be managed, treating the symptoms and diminishing the pain, rather than completely eradicating the impairment. Gale likely has a new scale for pain, the same way people with chronic pain do. A "bad day" for him would likely end most healthy, normative people in a clinic hoping for some prescription pain medication, whereas he will just grit his teeth and keep going. In short, saying that the orb is a "chronic impairment" is a bit of an understatement, and I don't think people realize just how much Gale is/acts like a person dealing with real-world chronic pain or chronic illnesses.

Gale is used to this pain, though he certainly isn't enjoying it. Have you ever persuaded him to wait before giving him a magic item? If your persuasion is high enough (and he likes you), he'll give a cheery "of course!" even though treating the pain is obviously the preferable path here. When he reminds you of his need for an item, as with the "teething displacer kitten" line or the "My condition likes being ignored as much as I do," he still conveys these lines with a mix of urgency and dark humor. He's dealt with this condition for a year or more. You might be testing his tolerance by withholding items, but he's not going to let on just how badly he's actually feeling.

This is the man who will uncomfortably laugh and say "Gods, this is bloody uncomfortable," while the orb in his chest is running a high-grade POTS flare-up and consuming his innards. That's what we call an understatement, Gale. He could complain a lot more, and far more loudly, but he's actually keeping it quite restrained, as people with chronic pain often tend to do.

So anyway, if you ever hear anyone complaining that Gale complains about his magic orb condition too much, ask them how much they'd like walking around with heart-attack symptoms for a few hours at a time. But let's move on!

The Gameplay Effects

Now that we know what the orb does to Gale narratively, what does his condition do to him mechanically in the game? Because, unlike with Karlach's unstable engine or Shadowheart's incurable wound (other examples of chronic pain/disability in the game), the game adds actual debuffs to Gale's character that can affect gameplay and battles. Therefore, leaving Gale disabled with pain also, in effect, disables the player's ability to play the game (or at least hampers it).

In the game, there are three stages of Arcane Hunger. Most people generally don't go beyond the first stage, because why would you let Gale walk around with a debuff of any kind if you have a locket of dancing lights you'll never use? But if you continue to ignore him (or, if you're playing as Gale, and willfully choose not to consume any items) then the Arcane Hunger will progress to Greater and Severe Arcane Hunger, bringing even more serious debuffs to his character.

Arcane Hunger - Condition Gale's spirit is being drained. He has disadvantage on Constitution Saving Throws. Greater Arcane Hunger - Condition The Netherese Orb in Gale's body is weakening him. He has Disadvantage on Attack Rolls and all Saving Throws. Severe Arcane Hunger - Condition The Netherese Orb in Gale's body is severely weakening him. He has Disadvantage on Attack Rolls and all Saving Throws. His movement speed is halved.

Casual reminder that Constitution Saving Throws generally affect concentration, which is needed to maintain spells that last for more than one turn. This goes back to Gale's concentration/mental fatigue when he's initially hungering. When the hunger progresses, however, Gale is physically weakened and the game makes it so that he's more likely to fail savings throws or attacks.

Trying to normally play as Gale with these debuffs is basically an exercise in resigning yourself to missing attacks frequently and failing literally every saving throw (this includes disadvantage on saving throws in dialogues as well). He's still playable, since Magic Missile never misses and you can work with spells that deal damage even when an enemy passes their saving throw, but he becomes even more of a glass cannon than ever. If he's not at the back of a fight, he goes down pretty quick.

Once you hit Severe Arcane Hunger (which I hit after only 6.5 hours of rushed gameplay, though you could probably hit it sooner if you were zooming through a bit faster than me) you're also forced to walk everywhere. Gale's movement speed is halved. The distance he can move in a single turn is drastically shorter than usual, and his speed is no faster than a casual walk. Anyone who has tried to move while encumbered knows this same walking speed debuff.

So the game literally takes Gale's chronic impairment and makes it disabling to both him AND you controlling him. No one really wants to play the entirety of BG3 at a walking pace, after all, so it forces you to make a decision—will you finally treat Gale's condition, or will you grit your teeth and bare it, like Gale does with his pain (though it's nowhere near close to the same levels of discomfort).

Typically a companion Gale will just leave if you refuse to give him any items and he progresses to the stage where he's at Severe Arcane Hunger. But if you play as Origin Gale, you can keep playing with Severe Arcane Hunger until, well, his condition literally paralyzes him and then he withers away, apparently dying of necrotic damage from the orb (I’m assuming here, because the log doesn’t specify what damage causes Gale to wither away, and he exudes a necrotic damage aura once he’s dead, which happens whenever he dies anyway).

Gale withered away. Gale lost Condition: Gale is Paralysed. Gale received Condition: Gale is Paralysed. [mumm's note: obviously this is listed in reverse order, because Gale becomes paralyzed and then withers away]

It appears that if left untreated, Gale’s biological deterioration reaches a point that it literally shuts his body down completely, and then he just...dies. I imagine that physically the orb has eaten away at so many of his vital tissues, including his internal organs, that everything just sort of ceases to function. He's corrupted from the inside out, and nothing but death and a quick resurrection can reverse those effects.

It's worth noting that if you choose to do this experiment with Origin Gale and don't feed him a single magic item, then Elminster won't be waiting for you to arrive in the Mountain Pass or just outside the Shadow Cursed Lands if you travel through the Underdark. Since Gale hasn't been managing his symptoms, he hasn't realized that the various items he's consuming aren't having any effect. Therefore, he isn't actively looking for a new solution to treat the symptoms. Since he isn't looking, I guess Elminster never thought to make himself available with the new solution?

Honestly, why Elminster doesn't show up is kind of a mystery. Gameplay-wise, I assume it's that Gale's quest didn't progress enough to trigger the game flag that would spawn Elminster. But lore-wise or narratively, it doesn't make sense. Mystra sends Elminster with both a command and a temporary "cure," so is she just waiting until Gale realizes his symptoms can no longer be managed? No idea. Maybe I'll explore it more in Part 3.

Anyway the point is that when an untreated Gale reaches Moonrise without talking to Elminster, the game (and his condition) shuts him down. When you revive him at camp, Elminster conveniently appears to give him Mystra's command to sacrifice himself at the Heart of the Absolute and stabilizes the orb at last.

But there's a catch.

Elminster Aumar: A shame that we did not cross paths sooner. The orb's thirst for magic is now quenched, yet it already inflicted some damage while you tried to forge ahead. The ill effects may linger, I'm afraid. Not enough to hamper your mission, I hope.

I believe this can also happen with a companion Gale, but I'm not sure about the specific parameters of triggering this. Regardless, as actual-lea has observed in their No Gale Dinner experiment, if Gale has regular Arcane Hunger then Elminster stabilizes the orb and all is well, but if he has Greater or Severe Arcane Hunger, then the damage the orb does to his body becomes irreversible. After Elminster stabilizes the orb, in this scenario, Gale is left with a permanent "Arcane Hunger" debuff, the same as the above, where he suffers disadvantage on constitution saving throws. This time, you can't consume items to make it go away, and nothing will cure the debuff. Gale just permanently has it for the rest of the game.

(It's worth noting that you can also kill Elminster while he's talking with Gale, thus preventing him from stabilizing the orb with his magic and from telling Gale he needs to sacrifice himself. This sort of breaks the narrative for Gale and results in some wonky dialogue chains that do and don't flag correctly, but the interesting outcome is that it means you can continue playing the game with Severe Arcane Hunger, which is now also a permanent debuff. You can consume magical items before the Elminster visit, but never after. Even if you kill him, you lose the ability to consume items, which means it is officially impossible to manage Gale's symptoms. You just have to deal with the halved walking speed and disadvantage on everything. And you can complete the game that way, if you have the patience! But it would be a very long game. I would know. I've done it and I was rushing like a maniac lol)

Anyway this is getting super long, so I'll end with a few wrap-up thoughts.

Final Thoughts

Having played as Gale with Severe Arcane Hunger for several hours in the game, I think Gale honestly downplays just how bad the pain and debilitating effects of his condition really are. As I was going through the evidence, I kept thinking about how there are so many different elements of pain, discomfort, fatigue, and general unpleasantness that are all part of Gale's everyday life. Even when the orb is stabilized or not actively hurting him, he likely still feels it moving in his chest and I imagine there are chronic effects that stabilizing the orb couldn't exactly cure, like lingering fatigue (and we wonder why Gale complains about his knees and wanting to take a rest and so forth).

Ookay the knees thing might be unrelated to the orb but I digress

Dealing with that much pain and internal corruption is a state of living that most people wouldn't want to stay in, and Gale is no exception here. He wants to stop the pain in his chest, just as much as he wants his former abilities and magical prowess to return. These things are connected, which I'll talk about in part 2. But without hope of a cure, Gale is forced to deal with his condition as a process of managing symptoms, creating a treatment plan that involves him consuming magic from magical items just to get a bit of relief.

But that, my friends, is where we'll pick up with Part 2 - The Hunger and the Treatment.

[crowtrobotx]

Chrysalis Ch. 25 is up on AO3!

[the-timeless-founder]

Promise Me

Chapter 2 of 5

let's gooo, part 2 is here... good God this one was a RIDE... @secretarykang as usual, let me know if there is any inaccuracies, I'll fix them immediately and I hope you all enjoy <3

All he sees is the pouring rain and the blazing lightning. He hears no thunder - the ringing in his ears has been loud and constant for a while now. Distantly, he recalls that he needs to push himself back up - try and call for his loyal dragon, and flee from the wrath of nature.

Yet still, his body refuses to move. It's as though each finger is as heavy as a boulder of dark stone, and suddenly, fatigue is all too present in his bones. The gash across his chest should hurt - is it the cold rain soothing his aches, or has he lost sense due to blood loss?

Time seems to have stopped. Or is it moving too fast? He can't tell. This is bad, that much is clear, he's losing blood still, and his vision is dimming ever so slightly. Is the battle still raging on? If so, why hasn't anyone come to finish him, or take him away? Did they presume he died from a simple mace strike and a fall off his dragon? The mere thought makes his blood boil.

Or it would, if he could keep his consciousness afloat for much longer. Somewhere between life and death, he can only comfort himself with one thought. That his father will come to his aid. He always appears when he needs him most. He won't fail him this time.

His vision goes black.

"Sae," Devyn calls, and he turns his face to her expecting gaze. Eyes puffy and red from the tears slipping, she can see his own grief - his own tears threatening to spill any moment now - and then speaks, "never once have you broken a promise you made to me. Now I ask of you to promise me again..."

He closes his eyes, and leans his head forward, so their foreheads touch. "Promise me that he will be back to us. I need you to promise me. Promise me you'll bring him back safely."

"I will do whatever is within my power to bring our son back, head and hearty. I promise you, dearest Devyn. But I must go now - we need act with haste."

"Yes. Of course. Take care, my love, and- and please come back soon." Devyn squeezes him in her hold one last time, before letting go. "I shall stay back and keep Silas and Aurora from doing anything reckless."

"Thank you, dearest. You always do right by us."

"Do not dally any longer, my love," Devyn looks to the storms in the East, "I can hear him... I can hear him call. He can not leave me. He can not leave us this way."

Saeclus has run dry on words to speak as he mounts Nocto, taking flight as soon as his hands connect with the feathers on his neck. He's sure Nocto can feel his urgency through their bond. And not just that. He can feel his anger, his regret, and most of all his fear.

A fear he has not felt in millennia. A fear so primal and heart-wrenching and painful, he can barely stand the reason he must feel it. The fear of losing a loved one. A child. His child. Their child.

His mind races back to Devyn - who had rushed into their chambers with an unbecoming hurry to her step - eyes wide in fright and worry and uncertainty. She had told him through choked sobs that Dante's squadron has been attacked, that they have sent their fastest eagles and ravens calling for aid, and how Dante is too stubborn to allow for eagles to be sent calling for aid.

She had insisted on coming at first, and it seemed impossible to hold her back until Silas and Aurora came to the main hall, demanding to be allowed leave as well. To search for Dante, to take their brother back home, and to unleash hellish fury on those who'd dared to try and take him from them.

It had taken all of Saeclus and Devyn's authority as their parents to keep them from doing anything reckless, and they agreed that should the both of them leave, then it was likely the siblings would follow closely behind. And a warzone is no playground.

Saeclus should know. He has been on countless. He has created and decimated countless.

Is this penance? If so, then the elder demons are crueler than God.

His thoughts come to a stop at the sight of a raging battle - blood splattering and metal clanking can be heard from all the way up in the air. He can not see Dante. Even as Nocto screams and dives down, hurling lightning from his wings at the Vibora outlanders, sending them ablaze or screeching from the pain - he can not see Dante among the fighting men.

His spear is in his hand before he realizes he's summoned it, and he jumps from Nocto's back onto the charging Vibora, sending five of their heads tumbling just from one swing. And causing the rest to recoil or freeze - they had not anticipated reinforcements. And they had certainly not anticipated him.

He has no time for this. He must end the battle this instant and begin searching for Dante. And presently, despite all of his self-discipline and so-called mercy, he could not care less for any of those standing in his way.

They will burn.

And they do, as a flip of his hand bursts the ground open, sending the company leading the aggression into the burning, blazing fires at the heart of the Earth. Screaming profanities and curses at him, the men are consumed by ruthless fire as the ground closes back up.

Saeclus speeds forward in a one-man charge - his eyes glow bright gold in such a terrible, powerful gaze that frightens the rest of them into a hurried flee. Even as he calls lightning down from the storm, directed at their backs, the Vibora run for their lives. They have caught a glimpse of the fury of the Timeless - and that single instance will haunt them into sleepless nights.

The Vampires who had been pushed back now push forward, out for the blood of snakes, but Saeclus could not care less for that. Or for them. Or for battles and victories and the other wounded. He has seen his son.

He comes to a halt at his side, shouting his name in a desperate cry. "Dante!" His arms come to the back of the younger man's shoulders and beneath his knees, carefully lifting him into his embrace. The wound on his chest is no laughing matter. Nor are the broken ribs and calves. Did he fall from his dragon? That is a plausible answer, yet Dante is the most skilled rider in their family—

No. This is no time for such thoughts. Life still dwells in his veins, that much Saeclus' magic can tell him, and that is all that matters. He shall heal and bandage him at the nearby camps, and then mount Nocto with him towards the mansion, so he can receive better care and medicine than he will on the front lines.

Rushing for the nearest medical camp in the storm, he misses the way Dante's eyes twitch open to see him for a moment, and fall closed again.

[some-zer0]

Forever obsessed with the way that Bridge to the Turnabout revolves around Morgan, Diego, Iris, and Misty deciding they alone know what's best for the people they care about, with that assumption being inherently false due to it having been constructed on outdated, heavily biased memories

Morgan wants Pearl to be Master because SHE wanted to be Master, so she assumes her plan's the best thing for Pearl, even though we can clearly see that it would ruin Pearl's life

Diego's using Maya as a proxy for Mia, believing that since he couldn't save Mia he has to save Maya, but his grief blinds him to the fact that he doesn't actually have a personal relationship with Maya

Iris is, once again, going along with a plan because she assumes others know best, but she's also an ambiguous enough character that you could interpret her as trying to fulfill an obligation to Pearl (her sister), Maya (the future Master), and Phoenix (who she wasn't able to protect last time)

And Misty is trying to save her daughter, but she's also the one who ran away when Mia and Maya were children, thereby putting them directly in danger of Fey clan politics in the first place

Diego, Iris, and Misty have multiple opportunities to tell Pearl, Phoenix, or Maya what's going on, but they're so set on viewing them a certain way that they can't see them as they really are. Like, Phoenix has been Maya's closest friend and biggest supporter since Mia's death, and he's a major caretaker of Pearl too, so why not let him know what's happening? Pearl genuinely doesn't know what Morgan's asking her to do -- she could almost certainly be talked out of the channeling if she understood that Maya would be in danger, so why not tell her? And Maya has already been involved in several extremely dangerous situations, including a previous plot by Morgan, so why not tell her? Especially since it's her life on the line?

Bridge to the Turnabout is a story of good intentions, but ultimately all that those good intentions did was rob Maya, Pearl, and Phoenix of their agency and lead to unnecessary tragedy

[jorvikpov]

You are surrounded by little more than the rhythmic, echoing beating of hoofsteps against the hard ground and the faraway mountain ridges obscured from your view by thick, endless mist. Before you lies a only vast expanse of white nothingness, but above the mists, the night is clear and the moon and stars bright as ever, and the thin, powdery sheet of snow laid atop the frozen lake where you walk shimmers ever-so-slightly even in the dull grey-white of the world.

Dusk falls earlier and earlier with each passing day: when you left Valedale, it was already evening. The midnight sun has disappeared as soon as she came to give way to ever darker shadows; in the depths of night the trees once again stand alone in the forests and the mountains guard their passes silently, for those either brave or foolish enough to walk through the deepest dark are few and far between. At night, say the village elders, the beasts come out, and the more superstitious may claim stranger things yet: should you begin to stray off the beaten path you may find that the trees behind you are not where they were mere seconds ago, and when you pass through the shadows, the evil that has always lived in Jorvik’s darkest corners has its eye sharply focused on you.

So far beyond the forest and the mountain pass that another forest has begun, you take a deep breath in and out, and the cold midnight air burns your throat and lungs. Beneath you, the ice creaks and rumbles, as though something is turning in its sleep far below the surface. Your horse’s ears twitch and turn at every noise, even the ones you don’t hear, and as you step further and further away from the cover of the trees behind you, its steps grow more and more tense under the saddle. The wind, cold and unforgiving, creeps slowly over the frozen lake and envelops you in a chill that penetrates flesh and blood and settles deep in your bones; a shiver trickles down your spine, and you think about how your jacket isn’t quite warm enough for this climate, but you do not think about the feeling of being watched that rests at the back of your mind. In the distance, what you hope is a sudden gust of wind roars through the ancient trees, and the sound of thunder echoes through the valley, though there is no flash of lightning to accompany it.

A glance over your shoulder tells you that the person you came here for is still nose-to-tail just behind your horse, icenthistles in hand and head hung low as she blindly lets her pony follow you through the valley. A dark, heavy gloom has made itself at home in the shadow beneath the hood of her jacket, and from it spreads an all-consuming loathing burying its claws deep in her flesh and bone. Though it is a new sight to you, you realise that this hatred, this anger – for herself: if I were Elizabeth, I would hate me too – must have been there for longer than you could ever know, carefully hidden just beneath the surface. You see all too clearly now, too, what the strange longing in her eyes has always been: the desire to become something more, something different, and the inability to recognise that which you cannot become because it is what you already are.

Another shiver washes over you, and you glance down at your hands, wishing that the slow hum of magic coursing through your blood and humming with warmth right at your fingertips could’ve helped you.

You don’t notice her quiet crying until it stops; by then, the two of you are far beyond the frozen lake and the icy mountain passes, and the sky over the Hollow Woods is glowing with the purple of early dawn. At the nearest edge of the village, a door slowly creaks open, and in the doorway, backlit by soft, warm-toned lamps, stands a familiar, friendly silhouette. From behind you comes a deep breath in and out, and then the hoofsteps grow quicker and louder; as Alex canters past you and further down the hill, the hood of her jacket slips backwards inch by inch until it finally falls.

For a split second, you can just barely make out the shapes of constellations far above you before the stars fade one by one as the first sliver of sunlight begins to peek over the mountaintops. A warm breeze rustles through the forest, and in the village, the door is still open, still waiting for you, still promising your cold, weary body warmth and comfort.

From the warm doorway, your name is called. You do not have to be asked twice.

[kobble-arts]

Resplendent Lloyd concept for myself and the other 2 Lloyd fans in existence <3

[lesbianwizards]

currently in a fun place where I don't like being at work, but I dread going home. ah well, thems the breaks I guess

[leatherfangs]

Delia Cummings

Liddy's scond wife, Delia Cummings (occasionally known as Dee) was born in the American Midwest. They met in the early 1960s and became enmeshed in the local queer community, creating guerrilla documentaries and seeing films together. They married in the late 1960s, at which point Liddy told Delia the truth of her vampirism. Dee tried to flee, leading to a fatal accident and Liddy's future of attempting to avoid deep, interpersonal connections.

Delia grew up in the suburbs. Born in the mid-40s, her parents enjoyed the high life of white middle-class Americans, with a picket fence and a dog in the front yard. Delia was born with a rebellious streak, but she knew how to hide it well, sneaking out in high school to attend poetry readings and gallery openings. Though her parents expected her to become a housewife as soon as she graduated high school, she made a deal with her parents. She was allowed to pursue photography in college, so long as she picked a school close to home.

Liddy first met her in the early 60s at a summer barbecue of all things. She'd been cross dressing, scoping out the local night life in the neighborhoods surrounding the university, and popped over to see what was going on. They hit it off, and Delia introduced her to the artistic crowd, while Liddy introduced her to kink culture.

Delia got little sleep in the following years, playing the dutiful daughter during the day, and sneaking out at night. Over time, she became involved in more and more counterculture, attending protests, and helping to write up petitions. She was full of life and passion, and Liddy fell hard and fast. They spent their evenings together attending movies and underground parties, or staging risque photo shoots.

Needless to say, Liddy was her favorite model, but far from the only one. Delia's love for and photography grew, and her dreams solidified into a desire to make films documenting queer life in suburban America. Things were going well, and Liddy had just bought a ring when Delia's family found her photographs and threw her out on the street.

Though she had a number of people ready to leap to her aide, Dee found herself on Liddy's doorstep in tears. Of course Liddy took her in without hesitation, and though Delia had no shortage of people to turn to, Liddy offered her a permanent room. Though the marriage proposal was put on hold, she would never let Delia feel unloved or unwanted, least of all for her beliefs.

Time passed, and the wounds left by Dee's family slowly closed. Delia worked on scripts and projects while Liddy fell deeper in love. Of course she wanted to tell Delia the truth about what she was, and why she only ever came out at night, but after everything that had happened, she couldn't figure out the right time.

What she could do, however, was propose. Liddy went down on one knee with a ring and a brand new film camera, and Delia said yes in tears. Their wedding ceremony was a massive party put together with the help of the community. And with some makeup and clever hemming of a suit, Liddy passed perfectly for a man, allowing them to get a marriage license from a local court house as well.

Their friends had pooled in enough money for a destination honeymoon. Liddy and Delia headed out to New York City just in time for New Year's Eve, enjoying a luxury hotel room and two weeks with the entire city just outside their door.

But the guilt only grew. The longer time passed, the worst Liddy felt. On only the second night of their honeymoon, she came clean, telling Delia the truth -- that she was a vampire, that she was nearly 150 years old, everything.

At first, Delia didn't believe her. Vampires were the stuff of movies and pulp horror novels. Liddy had spent plenty of time explaining to people that her fangs were just a genetic anomaly, that she had a sunlight allergy. Simple as that, right?

So Liddy proved it, first with photos from her past, then by showing off her more harmless powers. She admitted that yes, she had killed people in the past -- but not anymore. Never anymore.

And suddenly, Delia realized, she was in a strange hotel room, hundreds of miles from home, alone with a monster.

So she fled.

Delia ran down the stairs, through the lobby, with Liddy on her heels. But despite her speed and strength, she refused to overpower Delia or even stop her from running, desperately trying to explain.

But Delia didn't stop. She ran into the street without looking.

Liddy managed to get between her and the oncoming car just in time. The impact still shattered her ribs, punctured her lungs, and worse.

She looked up at Liddy in terror, coughing out desperate pleas not to kill her.

The last time Liddy saw Delia alive, she was being loaded into the back of an ambulance. She succumbed to her wounds by dawn.

Liddy managed to get the necessary paperwork to have Delia's body sent back to the suburbs where she could be buried with the people she loved, instead of a pauper's cemetery hundreds of miles from home.

She returned home just long enough to gather her things, and let everyone know what happened. A tragic accident, something Liddy was too slow to stop. It was close enough to the truth.

She said her goodbyes before moving away, but never stayed in touch. Since then, Liddy has made an effort to keep herself isolated, but she's never been good at it. She falls hard and fast, not even considering the consequences of her actions until it's too late. Once Liddy realizes that the relationship is getting serious, regardless of whether it's romantic, platonic, or something else, she starts wondering if it's wrong not to tell them the truth.

And then she remembers Delia, and she gets scared. It might go wrong. Or it might go right, and she'll watch them age and suffer the pains of old age instead.

So she gets scared. She ghosts them, and acts like a callous womanizer who simply got bored. It hurts, and it's wrong, but it's the only thing she knows how to do.

[flowers-that-sing]

oh!!! holy shit!!! im alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is awesome!!!!!!!!!!

[wabblebees]

.

[ahogedetective]

When Shuichi entered the bedroom, Kokichi was sitting on the end of the bed, wearing the outfit of latex and leather that he had been hiding for a week while he worked up the courage to surprise Shuichi with it. Kokichi was not necessarily insecure, but wearing something so intentionally erotic was new to him. He couldn't help but worry what Shuichi might think.

"So. . ." he began, still building up his courage and faintly red in the face, "good sight or great sight?"

Finally, a grin caught his lips, voice dropping an octave as he leaned back on his palms and asked, "Well? Aren't you going to get on your knees and worship me?"

(( kfdhhfdahs i didn't forget abt sending this— ))

Shuichi had just returned from the nearby grocery store, to get a few things they needed, and some extra things like snacks and sweets. He'd usually announce that he's back, but he hadn't seen Kokichi in the living room or kitchen. "He must be in the bedroom..." He thinks to himself as he begins putting away the groceries.

Once he was done, he made his way towards their bedroom. As he was entering it, he was about to say with a smile: "Kokichi...! Hey, I'm-" But the sight he was greeted with, was not something Shuichi expected at all to see. ".....Back.....-!!" A choked gasp left him, and for a moment, he could not help but stare while frozen in place. That was the first time... Shuichi's seen Kokichi wear something like that; something so risque, and bold. Even when Kokichi asked him for his opinion: "O-Oh...um.....ah...it's...."

He couldn't even form a sentence, his mouth was practically agape, along with being deeply red in the face. Oh he knows his eyes were wandering, slowly taking in every inch of Kokichi's body in that outfit. He swallows hard. Yeah, he told himself: he looked great in that. But just standing there and gawking at him wouldn't do: even he could tell Kokichi looked a bit shy. He wants to let him know without a doubt, it was a very pleasant surprise to see. "S...Sorry!! I-I just: I was a loss of words for a moment because, just......wow......" The whispered tone he emphasized that 'wow' in, only heightened how much he loves the sight. "It...is a great sight. You look amazing in that, Kokichi. You pull that outfit off s-so well..."

Then finally, does he step further into the room, taking more of his boyfriend in as he steps closer. He hoped he could help Kokichi feel even more confident wearing that, because he truly meant every praise he gives. And the fact he even wanted to surprise him with such an outfit... makes him happy, if not feeling arousal quickly bubbling up in him. Kokichi's voice dropping an octave certainly didn't help him feel less aroused, with what he asks next- "!!" Making his face especially blow up in a new shade of red.

"Ah-!" And then after a second, quickly nods his head before he slowly gets down on his knees as told. "Y...Yes, of course. Since I am very lucky and honored th-that... I can be the one to see you in such an outfit. It was not a surprise I expected to walk into, but one that... I really did enjoy." A sharp exhale, he crawls a bit closer to one of his boots, so that he can wrap his arm around it, before staring back up at him. Despite his smile looking shy, the heat in his eyes and expression were very apparent. Maybe it was something about that latex outfit Kokichi was wearing, that made him go in a fully submissive mode, already. Leaving a soft peck on the part of Kokichi's thigh that is bare, he then utters: "S...So thank you for blessing me with the lovely sight of you. Tonight, I am all yours....."

[mudwizardbignaturals]

Seemed too outlandish to be real. It's real.

Apparently the 1300 ft trash chute in 432 Park Avenue does not have any breaks or offsets in it to slow down the garbage so stuff thrown away at the top floors easily reaches terminal velocity and sounds like bombs going off when it hits the bottom.

[multimilfs]

Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader: In Omnibus Aequitas

Summary: Agatha isn't the only witch with a force of nature trailing after her.

AO3

A/N: oh my god i can't explain how excited i am to post this! so much thought and careful crafting went into this!! actually begging someone to ask for the TED talk on my planning process for this because hooooo boy

this is my first time writing Lilia, so apologies if the characterization is shaky at all!

also to give credit where credit is due, the idea for this Reader was prompted by a post from the brilliant trickofthelights, whom i admire greatly. i'll attach the post here

Tag List: @emiliaisdead @kenzie-floops @nightmare-of-homophobes @thepotatoislost @mckiejames @women-are-so-ethereal @galaxydreamer468 @angeliccss @goldenautomaton @asolitaryrose3 @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld

Warning(s): None

Shadows often linger in the periphery of Lilia’s vision; this she has grown to accept, on the basis that they are gone when she turns to face them. And she is glad of it each time. The twisted shapes and figures of the primordial horrors that linger are not made to be witnessed, even by her eyes.

So when a figure lingers, she turns with the expectation of seeing the silhouette vanish, but she’s not the only one who turns.

It strikes her as odd that Rio should see whatever she does. This thought occurs to her mid-ballad, fire licking at the back of her neck. When she looks, though, the figure does not vanish, but neither is it a horror to behold.

You are as beautiful as she remembers. The memory, coupled with your eyes on her, nearly trips her up. But Lilia holds strong through the rest of Lorna’s ballad—even as the burns on her shoulders ache, even as your eyes dart away and meet the curious gaze belonging to Rio, even, even as you watch her with that unerring devotion she had once craved.

When Alice tilts her head back, singing with the full force of her soul, Lilia’s eyes leave you. She watches the curse burn to ash above Alice.

You’re gone when Lilia glances back.

---

Sharon, human she may have been, was right about one thing—no witch can be expected to traverse the road without rest. So, the coven opts to take turns keeping watch around the little fire they’ve built.

Lilia volunteers for the first watch, restless, feeling the weight of eyes on her still. She should’ve known you wouldn’t stay away long.

Your entrance comes when the rest of the coven has fallen asleep; Jen and Alice on one side of the fire, propped up against the rock they sat upon, Agatha furthest from the fire, back to it, while Rio—if that is her true name—sleeps near enough to lay a hand on her waist. Teen, she assumes, remains in the makeshift bed they made for him.

She sees your shadow at the edge of the clearing, hesitant. Looking over her coven one last time, she stands, and walks to where you wait outside the light.

“What do you want?”

You reach out, a hand on either side of Lilia’s face. She doesn’t shake you off. Yet.

“You’re as beautiful as the day I left.” You murmur.

Lilia’s lip curls, “Are your brutal truths meant to be endearing?”

“No. They’re meant to be nothing more than what they are.”

Against all odds, Lilia has yet to throw off your hold. You run your thumb gently over the curve of her jaw. Everything in you wants to kiss her—has dreamt of it for over a century—but you know it won’t be welcome.

Her curls are frayed and wild around her face in an endearing picture. Mess suits her just as well as refinement; though that could be your bias talking.

“Why are you here?” Lilia asks.

“Because you’re here.” And because your job brought you here, but that’s less romantic.

She seems to sense the omission. Any warmth drains from her expression, her hands removing yours from her person. You miss the closeness immediately.

“A truth and a lie. Which will come next?”

“It wasn’t a lie. I could’ve been anywhere.”

“Then go there. But leave the coven out of this.”

“I have no choice, Lilia.”

Lilia scoffs, “You had a choice when you vanished for a century!”

You close your eyes against the reminder. Hurt flares through you. The ache from years of longing, feeling that veil between you exist so thin, yet being unable to reach through. You hadn’t even been allowed a glimpse.

It was torment. A century should have been easy, but a life without Lilia felt like clawing your way through. If you tell her, will she believe you?

“Please.” You whisper. You’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“Goodnight.”

You hear her walk away, can’t stop yourself from blurting, despite the consequences, “Please, don’t put yourself in harm's way.”

Her jaw is tight, eyes wary. She looks you over as if something about you will give away what you know.

She crosses her arms over her chest. You recognize it as both a way to keep you out and support herself. You ache to be let back in.

“This whole Road is a death wish.”

“Don’t put yourself in more danger than normal.” You say, then, smaller, “I can’t protect you.”

“Are you asking for my sake or your own?”

“Whichever you’ll listen to.”

“Why ask at all?”

You step forward, hands outstretched to take hers, but you stop short, “Because I love you, Lilia.”

The admission makes her flinch. Her eyes water and she swallows hard. For a fleeting moment you see the startling vulnerability behind her eyes—the loneliness you should have quelled—before she locks it away.

“You can’t love.” Lilia sneers, “It would tip the scales too much.”

“That’s not true.” You defend.

“Oh? Then who, in this wretched universe, have you decided to hate?”

You bite your tongue. Lilia takes your silence for its own—incorrect—answer. Bitterness creeps into her smile.

“Goodnight.”

---

“Here to watch the big show?” Rio asks, lagging behind while the others move forward.

“Just doing my job.”

“Really? I’d say things were pretty square when you showed up.”

You eye her, despising her knowing smile, “Why are you here?”

“My job.”

“Hm. And how many bodies have you collected, again?”

Her smile is wide, but her eyes are cold. She’s always despised that the two of you are equals; that she can’t add you to her menagerie of bodies. Just the same, you’ve despised that you can’t write her name down.

Agatha looks back and tilts her head. You know she can’t see you. Like nothing has happened, Rio turns that grin on Agatha, skipping back to her side.

You catch Lilia’s eyes on you and ignore the question in them.

---

Lilia watches. She follows you in her periphery, makes note of where you are at all times. Her eyes always dart to your hands. Every time she finds them empty, she relaxes.

She’s taken watch, again. You read the weariness in her posture.

Against your better judgment, you lay your hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t shrug them off.

“You need rest as much as they do, beloved.” You murmur.

She stiffens at the old endearment, “We’re splitting the time. I’ll manage.”

You run a hand through her hair. The curls are still loose, wild. You untangle a few of them. Squeezing her shoulder, you place a kiss to the top of her head, savoring the closeness.

For a moment, your hand quivers. You still it. Your punishment was endured with grace, you must endure the distance with the same.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

Lilia scoffs, “Right.”

The weight of her mistrust is like a knife in your chest. You do not endure the pain with grace; you flinch, tears springing unbidden to your eyes. Lilia’s eyes close in regret.

You wonder if your presence is more of a burden than blessing. Had you mistaken her intent all those years ago? Love is not an emotion that’d come to you naturally. Perhaps, in your learning, you misunderstood, and Lilia’s kind heart wouldn’t allow her to break your illusion.

She had loved you once, hadn’t she? You could swear she had.

“You have to know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Unless the greater universe calls for it.”

Her tone is honest, but sadness lingers within it. All you want is to see her face.

“If I thought it would do you any favors, I’d throw it all away.” You admit in a whisper.

Lilia turns, then. Her brows are furrowed as her eyes search your own, frantic, swimming with fear. In another time and place, you’d follow the statement with a smirk; but you cannot bring yourself to summon the facade now, not with her.

It isn’t a lie—your admission. If not for the overturning of the world without you, you’d forsake the job on your shoulders. You’d unmake yourself in a moment for her. For the younger witch who sang freely and lamented her gifts. For the wizened witch who eyes you with trepidation, mind rife with your betrayals and shortcomings.

“Where are your lies?” She asks.

“I tell them to myself, so you can have all my truths.”

Lilia smiles then, but it’s bittersweet. A warm hand settles on your cheek. You can’t help it—grace be damned—when you press yourself into the contact. They’re still there—the callouses you remember, rough against your flesh. She still smells of smoke.

There’s a rustling of fabric across the space. Alice shifts, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Lilia’s touch is gone from you. You settle next to her as she rests, not brave enough to lay another hand upon her.

---

You watch the knife fall as if time has slowed; absently, you think it might be, Time always did love her cruel jokes. It falls with Teen in the direct path. You feel the pen heavy in your hand, the paper near-weightless and yet the heaviest thing you’ve come to bear.

But then Lilia moves. The one moment you need time to slow for you, it’s returned to normal. Lilia shoves Teen out of the way and takes his place in the dagger’s path.

You fall to your knees, “No!”

Throwing your arms out, you aim a burst of magic for the dagger. Consequences be damned. Alice is faster, though, and moves Lilia from the dagger’s path before your magic can make contact.

Rio’s eyes are heavy on you. She can’t do anything—you didn’t technically break any rules, but the intent is damning enough.

“Now this is going to be fun.” Rio purrs.

You stare at the pen and blank paper you dropped in your haste to save Lilia. Your purpose. How close you’d come to unmaking yourself and yet… yet, a part of you is ambivalent to this. The larger part is freaking out, though.

Everyone’s eyes are on you. You flinch. They shouldn’t be able to see you.

Checking your mental list of active charms, you realize you’ve made an error; in your grief-induced act of heroism, you dropped every single charm on your person and directed the energy toward Lilia. The cat’s out of the bag, it would seem.

Lilia is the first to recover, moving out of Alice’s protective hold, “Do you ever think?”

You bristle, yet to stand from your kneeling position. It gives her an advantage over you this once.

“Well and often.” You defend.

“Well?” She questions, beautiful in her terror and rage, “You call that thinking well? You could’ve been killed!”

“You were in danger, Lilia.”

“And you’re not allowed to interfere.”

Ignoring all the eyes on the two of you, Lilia turns and storms through the exit that opened. You watch the road-conjured costume melt back into her normal visage as she gets further away.

It’s then that you recognize the silence.

All of them are staring at you save for Agatha, who eyes Rio with a mixture of trepidation and understanding. You stand as gracefully as you can manage. Smoothing down your clothes, you try to smile, but the action feels slippery on your features. How long has it been?

“What is it with you witches and beautiful mysteries?” Jen asks, “And where can I get one?”

You flush and fidget. The weight of their attention is so much less pleasant than your beloved’s.

Alice tilts her head, “Who are you?”

Holding out your hand, you speak your name. Rio laughs. You blush, remembering that mortal creatures don’t comprehend the original language, not like the two of you. Lilia once said it sounded like botched latin. The coven exchanges various looks of confusion.

“Lilia just calls me—”

“A pain.” Lilia’s voice cuts in, “A very severe, persistent pain. Are you all coming?”

You’re the first to follow, which prompts no shortage of grumbling. You find yourself grinning.

---

“Well, at least we have extra help on The Road.” Jen shrugs, later.

“She can’t help.” Lilia and Rio say in unison.

The two share a look. You can read the distaste in Lilia’s eyes. She doesn’t seem to think much of Rio, not that you do either—and you actually know her.

“Seemed pretty eager to help you, Lilia.”

“A foolish, misguided mistake on her part.”

You flinch at the statement, staring down at your hands. With the charms gone, you witness their true appearance; one completely dark, as if left to char in ember, the other so pale-white it is near translucent.

The beauty of a mortal body with a mortal heart is a range of emotion you’d have never felt before. Though lately, the gift feels more like a burden. Pain is your ever-present companion these days. Even when you look at your beloved, the love that overtakes you is laced with poison; with the reminder of what you had to do.

You can’t bring yourself to wish away the heart in your chest. But you do wish Lilia would be a bit more gentle with it. You’re hardly in the position to make requests, though.

“I can assist in small ways. Taking a watch at night, tending the fire.”

“No.” Lilia shuts you down. You freeze, “You are to do nothing but observe. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, beloved.”

You ignore the look between Alice and Jen.

---

The end of The Road is so near you can practically taste it. It tastes of rot and chaos, but you put that down as a symptom of your disposition. You watch Lilia and the rest of the coven relax, inhaling deeply.

A smile teases at Lilia’s lips.

“What do you smell?” You whisper.

The smile doesn’t vanish as you expect. Rather, it extends to her eyes as she regards you.

“Your perfume.”

You melt. Knees like jelly, you take her hand in your own, and press a kiss to the back of it, ignoring the eyes on the two of you. The Witches Road will give you what you most desire at the end. And before the last trial, it gives the traveler a taste of what their prize is. She can’t reach the end without knowing the truth.

“This body wasn’t mine, did you know that?” You ask. Her expression shifts as she grows a bit more tense in your hold. You hold tighter, “The witch before me had a little over a century left in her when I came. As payment, I had to serve out the rest of her years without the one thing that made it feel like living.”

The words are tumbling from you faster than you can comprehend them. You watch her face, hoping that what you’re stringing together makes enough sense for her to see. Even if it takes some other force whispering the facts into her ear for her to understand, you’ll just be happy that she knows.

Lilia’s the brightest witch you’ve ever known. She’ll figure out what you’re saying, but you just can’t stop; you need to say the words you’ve been dying to say for all these years.

“I never wanted to leave you, beloved.”

There’s no privacy on this cursed road, but you don’t care. If she asked it of you, you’d tell every soul you met how you love her. Lilia Calderu owns your heart, but even more than that, she owns your soul, and you have no desire to take it from her hands—even if she decides to rip it to pieces as repayment.

Let the coven know how you lived a century-long prison sentence to be with her. Let Rio and the greater powers know. You have no shame.

Lilia sneers, “You foolish woman.”

Her hands fist in the front of your shirt and pull your lips to hers. It’s messy; a clash of teeth and lips and noses, a poor imitation of the world-tipping kisses the two of you have found in one another. You’re both horribly out of practice. Never let it be said, however, that passion does not make up for tact. The near-quivering of Lilia’s grip and the force of intent behind her kiss makes up for any clumsiness.

The time on The Road has left her lips chapped, bitter with the remnants of lipstick, and never before have you known something so utterly perfect. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close enough that not a breath can exist between you. She sighs against your lips.

A curse of a mortal body is the functions that a higher being like yourself wouldn’t deem necessary; in this case, the need your lungs have for oxygen. Your heart is beating out of your chest and not from desire.

You pull back, panting, forehead resting against Lilia’s.

Breath successfully acquired, you tilt your head and press your lips to Lilia’s cheek, her temple, her forehead—anywhere you can reach, murmuring, reverent, “Lilia. My Lilia.”

“Darling.” She whispers with every kiss, voice hushed with devotion.

A lifetime apart seen to its end. Your fingers still itch with the pent up desire to hold her despite doing so. You were shameless before, but now… Gods help her.

Rio watches the entire display with shameless interest. Her eyebrows are high, a small, curious smile on her lips. Teen had been the first to turn away and busy himself with watching The Road. Somewhere mid-kiss, the remaining three found something more pressing to devote their attention to.

The lack of seeing, however, does not stop Jen from sighing, “When will it be my turn?”

Alice laughs at her side.

---

“Did you know all along?”

Lilia looks up at Agatha’s hushed question. She takes in the messy, haggard, but satisfied look of her fellow witch. She also catches the look Agatha throws your way. You sit across the clearing, Teen at your side, listening with rapt attention as you explain something about the moon.

“I had a suspicion when you mentioned my fortune.” Lilia admits.

A suspicion. A burgeoning hope she hadn’t let herself acknowledge.

“Oh?”

“What is fortune if not a lack of balance?” She shrugs, unable to look away from you, “To change it meant the end of my pain.”

“Enter, your solution.”

“Solution and problem.”

The two share a wry laugh. Lilia’s careful not to ask any pointed questions about Rio, though curiosity does eat away at her. Is anyone better suited to appreciate her experience?

Rio, while polarizing, is beautiful—and seems to have attached herself to Agatha in a way best suited to the witch. There is a beauty in it. Though she admits she’ll always prefer your well-meaning brutality over that which Agatha receives. To each their own.

“The Road seems to play favorites, giving you your prize early.” Agatha muses.

“Having her isn’t the prize,” Lilia corrects, “keeping her is.”

Agatha hums, eyes contemplative.

You’re aware of the eyes on you from across the clearing, but pay it little attention, instead devoting yourself fully to the question Teen has asked you. Gesturing with your hands, you weave similarities between the First Coven and their own. He watches you with a starstruck expression.

Something in your conversation prompts him to tilt his head. He fiddles with the little spellbook attached to his hip. Your musings come to a natural close and he speaks up.

“Can I ask—why Lilia? I mean, she’s great, but I guess I don’t understand.” Teen changes the subject.

You smile.

“Do you know the average person’s response to upsetting the state of the world?” You ask. Teen thinks, then shakes his head, “There isn’t one. It doesn’t matter what they’ve undone in the grand scheme, they’re painfully ignorant of what they’ve done. And what’s worse, most don’t care.”

It’s an old grievance you have with the greater universe. You recognize the necessity of it, but will never deny how it grates on you.

“Lilia… Lilia spent a large part of her life as a harbinger of tragedy. She’d travel through villages and upturn their worlds with a prediction.” You sigh, chest aching with the pain you know she suffered, “But when she did, she always sought to fix it. There were times she leveled the scales so completely that I didn’t have to do a thing. Few had ever considered me in such a way before.”

You look up from your fidgeting hands to Lilia. Her eyes are already on you. The warm, steady weight of her gaze makes you melt.

“And the others, well, none of them were her.”

Teen nods, “That’s sweet. I think.”

You chuckle. In a moment of fondness, you ruffle the curls on his head. He rolls his eyes but allows the contact; how do you tell a force of nature no?

---

You stare back down The Road with the coven. Though the return journey will be without any of the usual hassles, you curse the greater powers for not just providing an exit door. Your feet are killing you.

Lilia looks weary despite having rested. You rub a hand over her back, working out the knots you find with a skilled hand. She sighs.

“Where do we go from here?” She asks.

You raise a brow, “Back to the start of The Road.”

Lilia glares, though it lacks significant heat, “Us, darling.”

Ah.

“Wherever you lead, beloved.”

“That’s a lot of control.”

“Give me a century or so and I’ll start making decisions again.”

Her fingers lace through your own. Lilia stares down the length of The Road she has traversed and conquered, yet the greatest battle lies beyond. The world will never again be the same for her.

You raise her hand to your lips. You press gentle kisses to the knuckles.

“To the return of your glory.” You murmur.

Lilia looks at you for a long moment. Using your hold, she pulls you down, into a short but mind-numbing kiss. You hold tight and sigh, content.

She corrects, “To the return of balance.”

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.5

The long awaited reunion

This isn't the last one don't worry

<< Part 4 Part 6 >> Masterlist

You were the last to exit and as though rehearsed your family parted to the left and right revealing him.

Logan was standing next to Wade with a sincere grin. His eyebrows had risen and he let out a shaky breath. It took less than two steps for him to be in your space and scooping you up. Crushing you in a bear hug, one hand caressed your spine, whilst the other tangled in your hair.

“You came.” He breathed into your ear, taking a deep breath.

“Of course, I missed you.” You whispered back, tugging him closer.

Logan pulled back slightly to observe your face, hand sliding down to cup your cheek. He didn't care about his ‘bad boy/couldn't care less’ reputation anymore. He had lost you twice! He loved you and he needed the world to know. “It took a full month to convince the TVA to bring you back and B-15 told us she'd give you the option of staying, I was terrified I'd never see you again.”

The pain behind his eyes was heartbreaking.

“It's okay.” Your hands on his back rubbed small circles, trying to calm him. “I'm here.”

“I love you.” He declared.

And in that moment it didn't matter that he wasn't your first love because you knew he'd be the last. He would be there for you and you'd be there in turn. “I love you, too.”

Logan bent his neck and kissed you. It was easy, slow. He didn't need to rush. He had you now. You were back in his arms.

“Wooooo-hooooo!” Wade cheered. “Gosh guys I'm so emotional I need some tissues… and some lotion… and a gag.”

Logan growled which went straight to your abdomen. Shit. That was hot. He was hot. Fuck you were done for.

El shoved Wade but was chuckling.

“Glad to see you.” You spoke over Logan's shoulder.

“So am I, I tell ya, the moping this guy has done.” He clapped Logan's back. “I'm sure the Cavillrine wouldn't have been such a pussy.”

“The who?” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion but let Wade babble on about ‘Superman’ and ‘oh my god him in the Witcher?!’.

As Wade yapped he led you all out of illuminati headquarters. He told you that the apartment block which had been brought for you was one that he and Logan currently resided in. He then went on to tell you about his blind roommate and that they were going to throw you a housewarming party at the weekend.

The apartments weren't far, but Wade had booked a - far too small - taxi for you. Resulting in six suited up heroes standing on the sidewalk just staring blankly at him.

“Dopinder, I swear on Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia and Rose, I will beat you.” He threatened the man, taking his mask off to give an unsettling amount of eye contact. “I told you there would be seven!”

“Mr Pool, you know the type of Taxi I drive.” Dopinder argued back. “I can do two trips but it won't be cheap.”

“You sexy little bastard.” Wade's eyes narrowed.

“It’s okay.” Logan interrupted another round of flattering insults. “We can walk back.” He gestured to you and himself.

“Uh, peanut. I may still be at a third grade reading level but seven minus two is five.” Wade used his fingers animatedly to show the maths. “We won't all fit!”

“I can... go with them.” Laura suggested. She looked a little awkward about the idea but she stood by it.

“Aww! Y/N and her Wolverines!”

You frowned. “Why do you pronounce my name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

The man baffled you but you shook your head letting it go. The others piled into the small vehicle and waved at you as they pulled away from the curb.

“How long’s the walk?” You asked, genuinely curious. You were in New York, that was obvious, the sun beat down on midday traffic, there was the constant buzz of life and you felt at ease. This was familiar in a way which had long been forgotten.

“Give or take twenty minutes.”

You nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. Logan took hold of your hand and pulled you along.

“So, Laura this is New York.” You smiled at her, her eyes were darting around taking everything in.

“It's busy.” She commented.

You chuckled. “This is fairly quiet, or at least for my world it is.”

Laura took the information in, decowling herself. You smiled wider and reached out for her hand.

“Logan, what's it been like living here?”

“I won't say exactly the same.” He scratched his head. “But it isn't really different. The News is on at 4 o’clock rather than 5. For me it's warmer.” For you and Laura it was cooler, years of that boiling wasteland had acclimatised you both. “I like the milkshakes from Joey's.”

“Have you ever had a milkshake?” You all stopped at a crossing. Laura frowned at the lights and you explained what was happening, you also told her the gesture to thank the cars. “Laura, baby, have you had a milkshake?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“Well, we'll have to pick some up.” You declared.

The walk was pleasant. Your Wolverines were awkward around each other and for some reason that was the cutest thing. They both were at ease with you though so you operated as their interpreter.

Every now and then you stopped to admire a building or a tree or even just look in a shop window, mostly for you but it was also for Laura. You knew she was born in a different time to you. She wasn't used to this level of civilization. She had told you once, when she had snuck into your room after a particularly bad nightmare, that she was raised in a facility. That a nurse had broken her out and handed her off to Logan. That he hadn't been too kind but Charles was. That they spent time on the road and he had died for her. That her and others had to escape to EDEN. But EDEN wasn't all it was cracked up to be, they were safe but they were poor. They were needy and eventually they were transported to the Void.

She was mesmerised by a little sausage dog. You asked the elderly lady if she could pet it and the woman eagerly agreed.

Laura was cautious but after watching you stroke the little fella she did. A surprised grin formed. “He's cute.”

“He's called Harold.” The lady told you as Harold flopped onto his back. “After my late husband.”

“That's very sweet.” You rubbed his belly.

“Why are you lot dressed like that?” She wondered. "You aren't heroes are you?"

Images of backlash and abuse bombarded your mind. Would this lady suddenly hate you like others had? Wait, were you still a second class citizen because you were a mutant? No. That couldn't be true. Not when you had Captain America and Ghost Rider and Venom. How could people love them but hate mutants? “We're going to a fancy dress party.” The excuse tumbled from your mouth. Two sets of wide eyes glanced at you and then each other.

“Well, I'm sure you'll win.” She tutted at Harold. “Come on, fat boy, let's get a move on.”

Harold didn't seem like he wanted to but did eventually follow her, plodding away.

“You don't have to be worried.” Logan reassured you as you rose from the crouched position. “Being a Mutant isn't a bad thing here.”

“It isn't?”

“No. Not here.”

“So you tell me it's warmer but not that being a Mutant is okay?”

He didn't have an answer for that. He had been in as much shock as you that it was alright but he had settled in remarkably easy. He wasn't turned away from bars or eyed suspiciously in the street and he loved it.

“What's a fancy dress party?” Laura questioned.

“It's a party where people dress up as characters or animals or things.”

“And a party is when people are together and eat?”

“Yeah, eat, drink, have fun.” You resumed the journey.

“Okay.” She watched a pigeon fly overhead. “And Wade is having a party for us?”

“Yeah.” Logan grumbled. “His parties are a bit weird but his friends are okay.”

~~

The apartment was nice. There was a safety deposit box which contained your keys, you and Laura had separate homes. You all did. That was daunting. No one else lived in the building except for you seven (plus Blind Al and a pretty ugly dog) so, once you'd exited the elevator, it didn't surprise you at all to find each person's front doors were open.

You followed the sound of Wade nattering on and found everyone crowding a kitchen counter. This must be Wade's house as it was lived in. It wasn't blank and pristine like the others were. Wade stood with the dog - Mary Puppins - cradled in his arms, next to Blind Al. Gambit was to her left, leaning against the counter. El and Blade's backs were facing you.

“And then Blind Al and I found a buttload of- oh hey!” Blind Al’s face swivelled over in your direction. “Al, sweetheart, you know our beefcake Logan, well, there's a mini version of him with boobs and the one he's been a little bitch about.”

“Ah, Y/N.” She gave you an unenthusiastic wave. “Wish I was deaf and blind the way he was going on. Real pussy drier.”

You hadn't expected her to be as crude as Wade but then you really thought about it. If these two lived together yeah they were bound to be alike. They would rub off on each other. That thought amused you because you could literally imagine Wade trying his luck.

“Yes.” El had caught the look on your face as Al spoke, she tried to steer the subject. “They've been telling us about their relationship and how they met.”

“I li’ ‘em. Both a’ bad a’ ‘ch other.” Gambit placed an arm around Al's shoulders. “I li’ her t’ best.”

“Get off my roommate you perve.” Deadpool spoke with the dogs tongue in his mouth, then he addressed you three. “Basically explaining the first two movies. My relationship with Vanessa and how that's going.”

Blade whistled in a way that sounded like it descented. “Poorly.”

“Vanessa?” You glanced around at each member in the room. “Aren't you with Spiderman?”

“Ah.” He placed the dog on the counter. “So movieverse Deadpool has to be straight presenting or the dude bros will bomb it. I can be as gay as I want if I have a girlfriend.”

You filed that into the "this makes no sense to you but you didn't have the energy to argue with him" drawer. In your universe Deadpool had a crush on Spidey and it was plain, to anyone that looked, they liked each other.

“So, the living situation…” You stroked the dog's head when it twaddled up to you. “How are we feeling?”

“It's ‘lotta space.” Gambit voiced your own opinion.

“It'll be nice to have privacy but I won't lock my door.” Blade's eyes had scanned each of your faces and landed on Wade's. “If you're knocking it's locked.”

“I have my own key.” Laura commented. “I've never been alone.”

“How many rooms are they?” You asked the group.

“One bedroom, one bathroom.” El supplied.

That wasn't what you wanted to hear. You and Laura could've shared if there were separate rooms. “If you're scared we can bunk together.”

Wade burst out in maniacal giggles. He had to clutch his stomach to calm himself. “I-I’m so-sorry. Did-did you see the- the way Peanuts face-” He took a deep breath. “Oh, that's good shit. He realised there'd be no sex tonight. Damn, that was hilarious." He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.

Blind Al smacked his head with surprising accuracy. “Can I bunk with one of you?”

~~

The TV was on, lowly creating background noise as Laura channel surfed. She was wearing one of the outfits provided. It was a pair of grey joggers and a vest top. She had taken the matching hoodie off a while ago.

“So this is what people do?” She called from the couch as you made a quick pasta dish. It wasn't difficult to boil a pot and throw some pesto and cheese at it but it felt so foreign to be making this, not to be cracking open a tin of spam or fruit salad. To be actually making food.

“Uh huh,” You added salt to the boiling water. “It's like a pretty big pastime.”

She huffed and flicked over to a voice you never thought you'd hear again. Judge Judy. You padded over, barefoot, to the front room. You were wearing a pair of black joggers and a white tee, your feet were cold. “My mom and I used to watch this.”

“She's loud.” Laura looked up at you.

“Yeah, she always put them in their place, though.” You crossed your arms. “My nan, as well. I'd come home and my mom would be passed out watching this. You could just switch it on and she'd fall asleep instantly.” You extenuated the last word with a snap of your fingers.

“What was her name?” Laura's eyes were big.

You told her your mother's name and then your nans. “I don't know if they'd even be alive in this universe.”

“How would we- check?” Laura jumped as Judy yelled ‘baloney’.

“I dunno, I suppose Facebook?” Laura made a face and you waved her off, you'd explain social media at a later date. “We'll have to get phones tomorrow. Start buying clothes as well, get you into music and TV and all the usual teenage shit.”

The door opened and Logan kicked it shut. “I'm back.” He juggled the plastic bags.

“Hi.” You greeted him, helping with the bags.

“We didn't know when you were arriving.” He blushed. You were both standing in ‘your room’, you had begun to pack away your clothes. “I'm sorry, I have some pasta at mine, I can run down the road and get sauce and cheese and other things.”

“Okay, that would be really helpful.” You took your gloves off and chucked them on top of the duvet. “Thank you. Don't get too many things, though, 'cause I'll have to do a big shop tomorrow.”

Logan’s hand twitched to catch yours. No. He needed to leave, he couldn't get distracted. Despite the fact that he really wanted to get distracted with you. No. He couldn't. Laura was currently in the shower, using the imperishable goods that had been provided and he didn't know how long you two would be alone.

“I got a few basics.” Placing the bags on your counter. The layout of your apartment was the same as Wade's, as everyone's, but the colour scheme was slightly different. Your counter was oak, where Wade's was marble.

“A few.” You mocked him watching him unload.

There was the pesto and cheese along with bread, butter, eggs, bacon, bottles of water, two fizzy drinks, chocolate bars, cereal, a multi bag of chips, cookies, all the feminine products in the store and fuzzy socks.

"You knew my feet were cold." Your fingers grazed the socks.

He shrugged, a red tint on his cheeks. "I saw you didn't have many socks and they were in the store so I thought..." He trailed off.

You kissed his cheek and thanked him. He caught your elbow and captured your lips. His lips were soft and delicate, taking you in. Logan pulled back, reluctantly, and placed a final kiss to your temple.

You let your eyes fly to Laura she was pointedly watching Judy, to give you some privacy.

“Laura look!” You picked up the cereal, it was the same brand she favoured in the Void. She looked over and almost split her face with a grin. Laura stood and bounced over to you both. She made a move to open the cereal and you stopped her. “No, missy. Tomorrow morning you can have it how it's meant to be eaten but tonight we have pesto pasta. We have to try and work out what you like so we can buy more food.”

“It's-" Her brows pulled. "We can just buy food.” She looked down. “We don't have to…” She then turned her head away, upset. “Why am I sad?”

“Oh baby.” You rounded the counter and pulled her in. She hugged you tight and sniffled.

“You'll be okay, kid.” Logan spoke. You looked up at him and extended an arm, he took your hand and you eased him into the hug. Logan kissed your forehead and stroked her hair.

“I love you both.” You leaned fully into them, into your man and your child. They were all yours and that was brilliant.

“I love you.”

“Love you, more.” They both replied at the same time.

A hissing noise interrupted the moment and you cursed, scrambling to the pot that boiled over. You turned the oven down and stirred the pasta.

“Logan, can you show Laura where everything goes?” You asked over your shoulder. “We can open both of the drinks, see what Laura likes best?”

He agreed and eased himself into the role of ‘father’ so easily. It suited him so well. He was born to care, either as a dad or a teacher or a friend.

~~

When you previously shared a bed, Laura and you always slept facing each other and tonight was no different. You both went to each individual door and bid goodnight to your family - Logan telling you three times that he was only next door - then came back and settled down.

She held your hand and was able to sleep almost immediately. It was the softness of the blankets, the comfortable pillow, the fresh sheets, the glass of warm milk you'd made for her, the fact that she was full for the first time in years.

She was content.

You, however, were the opposite.

It was too soft, too comfy, too good to be true. You were waiting for the rug to be pulled from under your feet, waiting for someone to tell you this wasn't real. Cassandra had created this as a cruel illusion, you were really back in the Void with her.

Taking meticulous care, you extracted yourself from the bed, she deserved a good night's sleep. She deserved so much more.

You waddled to the fire escape and opened the window. The night was beautiful. Thousands of multicoloured lights shone, illuminating the roads. There was still life on the streets, still takeaways open and people milling about. You wouldn't have had a sight so gorgeous a week ago. It was cockroaches and murderers.

“Hey.” Logan spoke, causing you to jump. He was sitting on the steps to your left, smoking a cigar. He wore pyjama bottoms and nothing else. Fuck me. He was fucking ripped. You would never get used to how perfect his body was.

“Hi.” You climbed through, sitting back on the window sill, crossing your legs for completely innocent reasons.

“Can't sleep?”

You shook your head. “You?”

“I figured you'd find it hard to sleep.” He took another puff.

“What, so you've been out here all night?” You joked and except for the quirk of a brow, his face didn't move an inch, he just kept looking at you as you realised, “you have been.”

“I wanted to be here if you needed me.” He exhaled, smoke swirling towards the sky.

You stood from the sill and were in front of him in seconds, standing between his knees, hands cupping his cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you you're really cute?”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked at you. “You'd be the first.”

“You are.” You vowed and bent your head.

This was the first time you initiated a kiss. You had told him to kiss you in the Void and you had kissed him back every other time, and you'd kissed his cheek but this was the first time you controlled an actual kiss.

You were tempted to heat it up but a small voice in the back of your head told you to take it slow. You knew you loved Logan and he loved you but you didn't know him. This version was different. You didn't actually know this man. Imagine if he was allergic to prawns or something?

You pulled away and found he chased after you, releasing a shaky breath against your lips.

“Do you want to come shopping with us tomorrow?” You whispered, lips touching his. His hands had found purchase at your thighs and he gave them a frustratingly good squeeze.

Licking his lips just so his tongue grazed yours. “Of course.” He pecked you. “Anything.”

Part 6

@geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @melissa-ashe @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @ravenmedows @vulgarfuckinvirgo77

[r0-boat]

now you remind me... demons' stamina.... it's mean MARATHON SEXXXXXXXXXXX AGHHHHHHHHHHH 🥵🥵🥵🥵

ugh i need more headcanons about that pls pls plsssssssssss 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

5 Demon kings stamina headcannons

Hooooo boi

Nsfw from best to worst

All demons have some impressive stamina. They could go for hours, perhaps even days, even at the bottom worst, they can still leave you sore and tired before they even get close...

Beelzebub

I'm not sure if making your own clones to fuck you is cheating, but we're just going to say it's not. But yeah... He is his own gangbang. Once you give him some of that sweet, sweet sex, you'll just want more and more and more! He could never ever get enough. Then even if, He does tire, he could just make a clone to fuck you again while he rests. If he wants, he could go for days and still want more! He can't help himself. He's just so hungry.

Mammon

The first time you met him and fucked him he admits that he still wants more, but he didn't want to tire you out. On multiple occasions, you would try to squirm away, and he would drag your ass right back under him. This devil is as insatiable as he is greedy. He only stops when you're satisfied because he knows that your precious little human body will break if he uses you the way he wants to. He wants all of you all the time. Never satisfied.

Leviathan

The reason why Levi is so high, is that Levi will just keep going because he doesn't want to stop when you're satisfied. Because he wants to be satisfied. He will not stop till he is satisfied. And he loves to watch your fucked out little face twist in pleasure. Leviathan gets pussy drunk, where all he can think about is how good you squeeze him And how his balls ache for you. As long as he doesn't get to that point, you'll still be alive.

Satan

Do not underestimate Satan; by the time he is done, you won't walk for a week. He doesn't just stay inside you and wait for you to adjust no. He slams balls deep and pounds your poor little hole till you are screaming. He grabs your hips and uses you like a flashlight, His nails digging into your skin until you bleed. He doesn't care about lasting because he knows that his stamina is much higher than a human's, and you will be satisfied to how his dick is punching into your gut.

Lucifer

He has a lot of stamina, He's just easy to satisfy. So pent up, his balls big and full of cum. As a fallen angel is a lot of sin that he is still yet to fully experience. Part of him wants to go at the same pace as you, to make love to you as a human would, to satisfy you as a lover would. But another part of him wants to fuck you till you cry and beg for him to stop. He's still trying to figure out how to satisfy both parts of him.