#I've always hoped that was the residents' idea and no one was too mean about stopping them

[vimbry]

I can't believe I forgot to mention that over halloween I walked past the nearby nursery and they had decorations up. and the decorations included streaks of blood on the window. really funny to me, but. guys ... LMAO maybe just put nice happy pumpkins there, instead

this comes years after I saw a different building decorated for halloween which hasn't been since, possibly due to what they did, and I still regret not getting a picture of at the time, which was putting bloodied handprints and the word "help" also on the windows in blood. of the old folks' home.

[xxsycamore]

KING'S GAME

╰┈➤ ❝ I just need to know in case…❞ ❝ In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips? ❞ - After a round of some silly drinking game, MC can't help but have certain thoughts about Napoleon and how easily he takes on the role of someone in power. Naturally, she wants to know his boundaries of it.

Napoleon Bonaparte/MC • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Drinking Games; Alcohol; Shenanigans; Humor; Sexual Tension; Massage; Kink Negotiation; Sexual Roleplay; Power Play; Dominant Napoleon; Dom/sub; Master/Servant; Blow Jobs; Oral Sex; Choking; Dacryphilia; Stripping; Dirty Talk; Vaginal Fingering; Begging; Vaginal Sex; Creampie; Aftercare • wordcount: 6,055 • masterlist

a/n: The idea for this fic was conceived long before an event of the same theme came to Ikevamp EN... We ended up not seeing them all play together in the game so I hope this right here fixes that, maybe? I have no idea how it ended up being that long. I guess I've been looking for the right opportunity to explore this part of Napoleon's character in a smut fic, namely his feelings about being called emperor and the likes in the bedroom. Hope you enjoy!

"Oh, I know! How about we play the Ousama game? It's a popular drinking game back home, in my era!"

It's rare for MC to be the one initiating activities on game nights, so naturally, all eyes are on her. Dazai is quick to give his enthusiastic approval, wanting to know more about a game that came after his time but originates from his homeplace. Sebastian smiles in a similar fashion.

"Good pick, MC. I think our residents are going to like it. Will you please excuse me for a second?"

As Sebastian stands up from the table and dashes out of the room, someone's comment oh my god, he's totally fetching his diary, can be heard. But really, there are no hard feelings. Everyone's more than happy to welcome Sebastian at the table and see him being more open and relaxed around his masters for once. Maybe it does have to be documented.

"It's not something like Arthur's games, I assume?" Isaac directs his gaze at MC, almost pleading under the surface for an affirmative response.

She rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. As much as she hates to disappoint him…

"Erm, it's basically a game of dares… but don't worry, you can always refuse a dare!"

"That's it, if you want to take the punishment, Newt." Arthur seems ready to dance on the physicist's nerves with a complimenting chin-cupping stance, elbows rested on the table and all. Theo rolls his eyes.

"Let me guess. Refuse a dare and drink a shot."

"That's correct." MC nods before Arthur can take more liberties at orchestrating her own game, even if they happen to be thinking in the same direction. "Let me go get what we need for the game!"

By the time Sebastian is back and patting his breast pocket suspiciously, so is MC, with a handful of… chopsticks. And a fountain pen.

"So, what I'm going to do now is write a number for each one of us… Vincent, Theo, Arthur, Isaac, Mozart, Dazai, Sebastian, Napoleon, and I…so that means numbers 1 to 8, and on the ninth chopstick, I'm going to write Ousama - which means 'King' - and then we shuffle the chopsticks in a cup - Arthur, can you pass me the empty cup next to you? - then we each take one but without showing our numbers to the others. Whoever gets the Ousama chopstick becomes King and he places a dare for someone, using the numbers! Is everything clear?"

"Uh. What kind of dares are allowed?"

Napoleon nods at the direction the question originates from. "Good point. Hey, maybe tone it down with the sexual stuff. There are taken people at the table."

Arthur snaps, "Why are you looking at me? I wasn't intending to. Besides, if a dare doesn't stand right with you, you can always drink and avoid it!"

Memories of other game nights seem to flood multiple minds at once, so MC lets out a half-chuckle half-sigh and moves on. She does take a mental note of the hint of possessiveness in Napoleon's comment just now who instantly got worried about another man being prompted to touch her inappropriately. As if anyone has the balls to touch Napoleon's woman, she thinks to herself… and kind of likes the way it sounds in her head.

It's a shame that Leonardo and Comte aren't joining them tonight and are instead enjoying a more sane way of getting alcohol in their system, in some quiet corner of the mansion. And Comte is totally not smoking a cigarillo right now while talking to his old friend, claiming that he hasn't had one in forever, again. And for that matter, Jean's presence is missed as well, but sadly (although understandably) he dislikes partaking in such activities. He's a lot like Mozart in this regard, with the difference that Mozart becomes another person when he drinks some. And that person loves joining drinking games with his buddies!

"If we're all ready - here we go!"

MC gives the cup a rather unnecessary bartender-style shake, assuring the chopsticks are well shuffled and ready to make it to all the wrong hands.

Once placed on the table, a crowd of hands quickly reach into the cup and sneakily withdraw in order to hide their new secret identity, with the exception of one person who has nothing to hide.

"I'm the king. My, I wasn't prepared for this."

As Sebastian holds up the chopstick of fate high in the air for all to see, a few pairs of surprised eyes catch his own. And something like a shimmer lights up in Sebastian's ones.

For someone as unprepared as him, he surely doesn't waste time on thinking about his next move. Not at all.

"Number 6, exchange a clothing item with number 1. Number 3, take off your pants without using your hands. And number 4 must do a handstand."

"By Jove, Sebas, your fetishes are showing!" Arthur blinks, both surprised and somehow entertained by the turn of events which (in his own head) kicks him off the position of number one most perverted person around the table. Or at least for the time being. He's only smiling now because he's safe, being the lucky number 7 and out of Sebastian's fantasies.

Isaac and Theo can't say the same. They exchange a look - eyes traveling up and down each other's frames - looking for a convenient clothing item to exchange, given their different builds. Theo is done with his choice first, and he reaches over the table to undo Isaac's necktie. The smaller man averts his gaze, turning his head away as much as he can so it's not in Theo's way, or perhaps out of embarrassment, but it's over before it ever began thanks to Theo's rough but effective methods of freeing the cloth from under his collar. Using the chance coming with the shortened distance, Isaac snatches Theo's scarf in return as the most adequate thing to take.

"Aw, you two are boring." Napoleon mocks for change, drumming his fingers on the table with a smirk. Theo muses with the thin black tie in his hands, turning to Napoleon with an empty look and silently wrapping it around his forehead instead, tying it off at the side.

"Is this better?"

"Snrk. I don't know, what do we think, Sebas?"

"I approve of your new look, Master Theodorus. Or should I drop the 'Master'? I'm the King now, after all."

MC gasps, "Sebas! Oh, this game is dangerous…"

"Tell me about it. My first dare and I already have to drink. Woe is me." Dazai weeps, rising up from his seat to point at his hakama, making it impossible for him to complete the take off your pants without hands dare.

"Guess that leaves me." Napoleon sighs, pushing his chair back audibly as he stands up.

"Ooh! Go for it, Naps!"

"Good thing it went to someone who's in good shape. I bet it's a piece of cake for him."

"We'll see now." Napoleon smirks to himself, rubbing his hands together as he prepares to tackle the handstand. His eyes get serious for a second as he calculates it all, and in the next moment, his hands are flat against the floor changing the center of his weight. While he's upside down, the gravity makes his partly untucked shirt expose his abs.

Someone whistles, and MC finds herself staring. As if for the first time.

All too soon, Napoleon is back on his feet again, dusting off his palms and retaking his seat by the table. Sebastian is beaming. "I like this game. Thank you for the idea, MC."

"Thank you, MC." Mozart chimes in, for some reason, oblivious to Sebastian making history tonight as opposed to quietly observing it from the side like usual.

"Haha, you guys are welcome… so, let's do it again, shall we? Let's see who will be King this time around~!"

After the new shuffle of chopsticks, everyone seems a little more lively, a little more hopeful - some driven by revenge and some simply by the contagious evil brewing in the air.

"Who is King?"

Out of the people looking at their newly acquired chopsticks, Napoleon is the one who speaks up.

"I guess that would be me."

"It's Napoleon, huh…"

"Oh, how fitting! You were born for it, Naps."

"Haha, not really."

"My bad. You're an emperor, not a king. I'm so sorry, Your Majesty."

Napoleon snorts, not playing along - or perhaps his dismissing the extended apology is his way of playing along. MC raises an eyebrow, studying his reaction. Napoleon's attitude towards these things is… rather complicated, as he seems to both loathe his so-called days of glory and simultaneously accept them for what they are, a part of him. She's been confused more than once about what's a good way of navigating through the situation when the topic is brought up in their conversations. On one hand, she hates the change of expression on his face that makes her feel like winter has returned - even if it's never going to feel to her like how it felt to him, the cruel winter - on the other, she knows he hates it when people walk on eggshells around him.

But now they're all at least half-drunk and merely goofing around. No one's bothered to care about these things, and maybe Napoleon prefers they don't anyway.

"Number 5, hold three ice cubes in your mouth until they melt. Number 4, confess about a fetish you have in front of everyone. Number 2, crack an egg over Number 7's head. Number 1, give me a massage."

"N-Napoleon is a sadist!!"

"So cruel…"

And he's laughing too. Sadistic tendencies aside, his laughter sounds every bit as genuine (and loud) as MC always remembers it to be, and it's strangely soothing. Maybe she should refuse a dare just for the shot, just to drown her worries a little more… Taking a look at her chopstick again because she thinks she heard her number, she sees a 1.

Theo goes somewhere, for ice presumably, despite Sebastian's offer to do it in his stead, and Arthur follows. "Wait, I'll go for the eggs."

"Who got the fetish one?" Napoleon browses the faces of the ones left at the table to spot the flushed one. Vincent raises a hand.

"My fetish is, um… I don't really-"

"Come on Vincent-kun, we all have fetishes~"

"I think I could say… maybe… um.."

"Yes? Go on, say it. We won't judge."

"I'd love it if my partner would touch themselves and let me watch."

"That's perfectly normal, Master Vincent. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"Woah, it's both very vanilla and somehow kinky at the same time..." MC muses out loud. "Oh, but nothing to be ashamed of, certainly!"

Arthur and Theo return, with the latter immediately taking note of Vincent's beet-red face.

"What did I miss? Broer?"

"The fetish dare… Don't worry, Theo, I just had a shot instead."

"Oh, that's good. I mean, no it's not! Napoleon, how dare you make mjin broer take a punishment!"

"It wasn't really- Anyway, Theo, let's shut you up now."

Theo groans, dragging on every move as if giving the ice a chance to melt as much as possible before the inevitable contact with his mouth. At last, there's nowhere to escape and he pops the cubes in his mouth, thankfully they fit.

"Okay, I've been waiting for this. Who gets an egg in the head?"

"It's me… I hate this game…"

Isaac cards his fingers through his strawberry locks, as if for one last time while they're still egg-free. In the meantime, Theo's expression twists, less out of sympathy and more because the ice begins to torture him from the inside out.

"And the executioner?"

"Master Isaac, I'm truly sorry, it's me." Sebastian raises his gloved hand.

"Ahahaha! Haha!" Mozart laughs at the turn of events seeing a servant disserving his master. Or maybe the reason behind his laughter is nowhere that complex. One thing is certain, for some reason, he always gets out of the bunch's drinking games taking no damage in the form of nasty dares and punishments.

Sebastian stands up reluctantly, then sits down again. "Should I just drink? But I have to remind, I can't hold my liquor very well, I'm afraid."

"Just get it over with. I won't be mad at you or anything."

Sebastian sighs to show a little more reluctance before committing the deed. He looks like he's trying to miss his target, but unfortunately the raw egg still perfectly lands on Isaac's head, quickly descending down his face. Isaac's grossed-out expression mirrors Theo's current agony. As someone hands Isaac a handkerchief to wipe off the sticky mess with, another jokingly calls the sight erotic…

"Alright, I'm ready for my massage. Who shall serve the King?"

Napoleon relaxes back in his seat demonstratively in anticipation. It's a bold invitation, and everyone looks up to see the chosen one.

"My king."

MC stands up, showing her chopstick marked with the number 1. She tries to mute the sound of the others' reactions in her head as suddenly her pulse speeds up.

Napoleon flashes her a grin.

"Very well. The King is expecting you."

He lifts his glass to his lips as he hasn't touched it since the beginning of the game, probably deeming it worthless with the nature of the game. Not that he's expecting to be drinking anytime soon - he's simply not the type to back out from any dare unless it's too ridiculous even for him. Maybe that's why he started to miss the warmth at the back of his throat.

As MC makes her way to where he sits, she witnesses the singular bobbing of his Adam's apple when he gulps down the liquid, and she watches dumbstruck for a second as he motions for her to take a sip if she wants to, from the same glass. Well, yes, she finished her own drink a while ago. She accepts the glass from his hold.

"Now, what kind of massage should I request? Hmm…"

Arthur's dirty remarks fall on deaf ears as MC focuses on not choking on the liquid in her mouth.

Napoleon is a giver.

But there's something damn attractive when he allows himself to take from others.

"The king orders you to rub his shoulders."

And it's damn attractive when he's commanding like that. She sees now what the others were referring to in their provocations earlier - it rolls so, so easily off his tongue when he gives an order like this. Even if it's for a stupid game, the sharp look he gives her feels rather… real.

Not that this is anything new to her. For all Napoleon's gentleness, in the bedroom, he has this side of him that colors him rather dominant. And she'd be lying if she said she's gotten so used to it by now she doesn't feel anything between her legs right this moment. Instead of being a liar, she blames it on the alcohol.

Standing behind Napoleon, MC puts her hands on his broad shoulders… and really, it's been a while since she last gave him a massage. Usually, it's the other way around, as Napoleon added it to his ever-growing list of skills, even if initially it was something he'd never done before, given his status in his past life. Now she has his shoulders all to herself to knead and push at, and she catches herself putting selfishness in the act of service. Because she can't help but have impure thoughts.

Napoleon groans. It's quiet but she catches it over the cacophony of other noises in the room coming from the rowdy bunch. They're already setting things up for the next round, and here she's still stuck on her dare. She doesn't want to go back to her seat. Maybe Napoleon can read her thoughts like he always does and offer her his lap for the rest of the night; maybe he will go further and excuse the two of them for the night-

One hand at work, she reaches the other into the cup because they tell her to, and it appears to be Isaac's turn to be King. Good for him, but bad for everyone else. Seems like it's going to be a long night…

Later in the night and a few more rounds down the line, apples have been eaten without hands, glasses have been downed, a few mounts were the targets of unpleasant substances, either deadly spicy or deadly sweet, some clothes have been removed, some eyes filled with tears - and the collective level of soberness in the room has been drastically lowered.

It's a surprise how they even managed to put an end to it before the sun came out when naturally there's always someone who didn't get a chance to take revenge on someone else. Napoleon and Theo, being the best at holding their liquor as per usual, felt it their duty to help the others to their rooms.

MC didn't have much to drink, otherwise she'd be asleep on the pile of residents by now. Not that she intended to retain some of her soberness, it simply happened - because the bubbling feeling in her chest wasn't caused by alcohol, to begin with.

Napoleon, always the caretaker. Maybe if she throws herself at him he'll carry her to her room as well.

"Goodnight, Theo, go get some sleep." The sound of him returning after separating from Theo interrupts her daydreams.

Once he sees he's all alone with MC, he offers her a smile.

"And we're the last ones again. C'mon Nunuche, let's go to our room."

"Carry me?"

MC tries her best puppy-dog eyes at him, and he tests her for a second like it doesn't work on him. He then gawks at her laziness, hoisting her up his shoulder and giving her ass a little spank. "Let's get you to bed, naughty Nunuche. Some of those guys will be mad at you for weeks, you know? But you better not give them those eyes. Only I get to see them."

"Mm…Napoleon?"

The varnished floorboards creak under Napoleon's steps as he makes his way down the hall, holding MC's weight securely. "Yes?"

"Do you really enjoy it? You know, being treated like a majesty."

It's a short trip, and MC's perspective soon goes back to normal as the floor and the walls swap their places once more before her eyes. Not that she's interested in it, so she throws herself at the bed in the next second, sinking in the welcoming embrace of the comforter, not bothering with removing it at least for the time being.

"Pfft, where did that come from?" Napoleon says while closing the door behind him. The crickets are still singing their songs under their window, it can't be that late in the night.

"From the game. For a second I was worried it left a bad taste in your mouth."

"Hmm." Napoleon fake-muses, kicking off his shoes before sinking one knee on the bed. "I think I liked it when you were the one treating me like a majesty."

"No, don't joke, tell me seriously."

"I am serious though."

Somehow they end up in this position that doesn't help resolve the tension poisoning the air around them one bit; with him caging her with his body on the soft mattress and her having nowhere else to look at but right at his penetrating gaze. Her fingers twitch, nails catching into the fabric of the comforter, seeking a sense of stability.

"I just need to know in case…"

"In case what? In case you take it a little too far in role-playing? In case you go down on me and the words mon empereur leave your lips?"

Like a spark to the kerosene pooling low in her belly, Napoleon's words make beautiful explosions bloom behind her eyelids that have fallen shut amidst the last sentence. She takes a breath but it only feeds the fire as she can't help the way her exhale sounds raspy.

"Would you like that?"

"Would you?"

MC bites on her bottom lip. "This is not about me."

"I thought you wanted to serve your King."

She averts her gaze, because if she looks a little longer at this alluring jade gaze that reeks of sex, she'll be able to feel herself losing her composure, and she's trying to have a serious conversation here.

"I do."

"Hmm." Napoleon plays with her, trailing a hand down her modest home dress, prodding at the buttons at the front. "This is bad, I don't know what to ask for first. I've lost shape."

"Liar. You were perfect at it earlier."

"Someone's been paying attention. Were you also fucking me with your eyes? Right there, at the table?"

MC takes two sharp breaths, and it resembles panting, all too soon. It's out of irritation and not arouse, not yet. When she pictured their little game, she thought she'd just have to bow her head obediently and indulge in her desire to serve. Not enduring Napoleon's verbal teasing as any other night.

"Is it that bad? Will my King punish me now as he sees fit?"

Napoleon looks at her. For all the things that may be at the tip of his tongue, MC imagines most vividly the tone Napoleon would speak them in and how much he's cut for the role. Her soul sings at the thought, but it's nothing holy.

"Get up then. Don't you think it's a little rude to be lying down in my presence?"

That's fair. With renewed vigor, she pushes herself off the bed and waits readily by the side of it.

"Remember to not look me in the eyes. It's forbidden. You'll only look when I allow you to, if I allow you to. You'll have to earn my grace."

Instinctively, MC wants her nod to be accompanied by eye contact, but she corrects her mistake before it can even take place.

"Present yourself. Take it all off."

MC blinks surprisedly at how fast things are happening but isn't against it at all. She has the feeling that he is capable of making her do all sorts of dirty things with a mere flick of his tongue, undressing for him is nothing.

She makes a show of it, despite not having many articles of clothing on her to take off seductively - before long, she's stepping out of her dress that has pooled at her feet, and she retakes her previous position.

"I'm pleased with what I'm seeing. Come closer. Kiss me."

He doesn't have to ask twice. It's something familiar and yearned for since they crossed the threshold of their room—hell, no, since they took a seat at the table for that game. It's welcoming and fulfilling and it's just what she needed-

Or so she thought, until she terribly embarrassed herself with a rather awkward and rigid pressing of lips against lips, and no movement. In her selfishness, and out of habit, she left her mouth open for Napoleon's invasion. But she's forgetting to consider that kings get tired of their conquests too.

She summons her boldness and turns the desire in her veins into fuel for action. She shoves her tongue in Napoleon's mouth, but gently, not with the intention to dominate, but rather to serve. To kiss him until he gets enough. Her tongue swirls against his own, the movement rather clumsy, the making out of a juvenile rather than that of a skillful lover… but it's what he wants. He wants to see her seduce him, use every millimeter of her body for his pleasure, and keep going until he has his fill.

A thin string of saliva connects their lips upon her withdrawal, and her eyes are shut tight. She has to keep them shut, otherwise she'll look right at him. Napoleon chuckles.

"You may open them."

She does, and the sight is not kind on her fragile composure. Locking eyes with Napoleon has never felt like this, like a privilege, and exploring this new feeling is exciting.

"You're not half bad with your mouth. Undress me and put it to use."

Heartbeat thumping in her ears, MC finds it impossible to conduct herself in that moment; to sturdy her hands into performing the task and to break her gaze from his piercing pools of jade. She starts with the shirt, more tugging at the buttons rather than precisely undoing them, before pushing it completely off his shoulders, and finally letting it fall to the floor. He's glorious with just his trousers on and that scrutinizing, almost cold gaze. She opens the fly enough to take his hardness out, and her stomach tightens instinctively.

She wets her lips and parts them, taking in the head of his cock, letting it rest on her tongue. Even when her world narrows down to the hot pulsing flesh in her mouth, she catches herself dividing her focus between pleasuring her lover and.. the position she's doing this in. There's a little bit of getting used to it being required, and it makes her realize how unfamiliar that is - her being on her knees, on the hardwood floor, and Napoleon standing upright. When was the last time they've found themselves in that exact arrangement? It could've happened once or twice before, in the heat of the moment, or when the space had limited them. But never intentionally. Not because MC has anything against it - rather, it would be Napoleon who changes the position whether he's about to receive oral. He makes sure he's at least sitting down at the edge of the bed, where MC can rest her hands on his hips, or on the bed. Where he can see her better, to check up on her. Now she has to look up to see him, and he seems so far away, or maybe her eyes are doing tricks on her, or maybe her vision is blurring because she accidentally took his cock too deep down her throat and now tears are gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Napoleon brings his hand over her head and collects a fistful of her hair, one unfamiliar thing after another - but before intimidation can mix into her blood, she breathes in deeply, because it's not him forcing her down his cock, it's him forcing her off it.

He holds his cock firmly by the base as he directs it at her parted lips again, but doesn't breach the gap between them. He simply rubs his cockhead on the soft cushion of them, gathering the saliva that starts to droll down and smearing it back on her lips.

"A pretty mouth indeed."

MC can only look at him. She looks at him like she's looking straight at an open flame.

"Next," Napoleon begins, cupping her chin and caressing with his thumb where his cock used to be just a second ago. "I want you to go on the bed and show me the position you want to be taken in. Can you do that for your King?"

MC finally averts her gaze; it happens involuntarily, purely as a reaction to another surge of surprise and embarrassment.

"I— Yes, my King."

Napoleon angles her chin up, a signal for her to rise to her feet. Yes, that would be a good start.

The bed is just two steps away from where she is but MC feels like she can trip thrice on the way there with how much her legs have turned to jelly. Still, she makes it. There's not much room for thinking this through, for deciding on what would work out best for both of them - normally it's him who takes these decisions, anyway - so once she leans forward on the bed, she gives way to impulsivity and the way it saves her from having to give it any more thought. If she has to name the reason, it would be that it aligns with everything that Napoleon is tonight. Of course it would be fitting if he were to take her on her hands and knees.

"Does this… please you?"

She hears the rustling of clothes behind her back, probably the sound of Napoleon getting rid of his trousers, before he approaches her. He doesn't say anything about approving the position or not, and MC can't decide if his silence is worse. He comes to stand right behind her, and she crawls a little closer to the edge of the bed to make sure their skin is touching. Napoleon lets one hand roam from the fold of her knee up to the curve of her butt, and MC jumps lightly at the touch. Needless to say, she's sensitive and oh-so neglected. Her insides throb at the mere proximity of Napoleon's slender fingers close to her sex - it's a miracle she doesn't come undone on the spot as he actually directs his touch to the apex of her thighs. Wetness catches on his fingertips and he wastes little time caressing her folds before plunging two fingers inside.

"Nnghhh…" MC tosses her head, trying her best to enjoy the feeling of finally, finally claiming some pleasure but without losing herself completely in it. Napoleon twists his fingers until his open palm is facing upwards, thrusts in and out a few times in a way that doesn't intend to bring pleasure but rather to prepare - and then his fingers audibly and briskly exit her wetness.

MC whines at the loss of his fingers but finds a new fire sparkled to life inside her, and she's more than happy she wouldn't have to wait any longer for the next dose of intoxicating pleasure.

"Good girl. Do you want my cock?" Napoleon asks, openly and greedy. He's not risking having her beat around the bush by posing a more generic question like what she wants next. They both know the answer to that already.

Not that he spares her the torturous reminder of what she'll get by saying the right thing. He rubs his flushed tip on her glistening folds, pressing it in enough to just barely catch on her entrance; to make her bite her tongue and assume he just might show mercy and put it in without her pleading for it.

"I- Yes, please, Napoleon— take me, fuck me! Please…"

She only realizes once it slips out that she used his name and not the object of their little game of pretend that is his title, but there's no going back.

Napoleon doesn't punish her for it. Instead, he rewards her, giving her what she wants most. The groan he lets out as the familiar warmth and tightness enfolds his aching cock is telling of his own desperation.

MC cries out at the intrusion, only now understanding the difference of not having him finger her for longer prior to this. It doesn't hurt - she just feels a little fuller somehow. A little on edge. He gives her time to adjust, however, and she just basks into this dangerous feeling for as long as it's there until he carefully withdraws only to give it another thrust.

"Ahh!" Her insides squeeze around Napoleon again, as he goes in deeper this time. She blames the position, trying to reason out why she feels him in her guts. Napoleon withdraws again, and then pushes in, trying to fit even more of himself inside.

"You're taking me so well. I'm so deep inside you, I bet you can feel me in your deepest parts."

She groans at his words and their truthfulness as his thrusts grow rhythmic, the place where they're connected burning with the delightful friction, and her arms soon give out. She buries her head between her hands, enduring the change of angle as her rear sticks out, and Napoleon keeps pounding at her. His own sounds of pleasure are barely masked by the sounds of skin on skin, but he's not hiding them either. He lets her know how good she's making him feel, telling her something dirty in a low voice that she can barely register over the drumming in her ears.

"You feel so good- merde- Ngh. I want to stay inside you forever."

He's always holding her tightly when he fucks her, his grip being strong enough to leave marks the following day, but there's something about the way he takes hold of her hips now. At first, MC thinks nothing of it, lost in euphoric pleasure. It's only when she feels her knees being lifted off the bed that she understands what's happening.

Napoleon rises up her bottom to meet his hips, in his standing upright position, taking full control of her body in that moment. He's so strong, making it all seem effortless; and it's not a matter of matching his thrusts anymore - she can't do anything. She's facing away, with one pair of limbs immobilized and the other grasping uselessly for purchase at the covers. Her whole body rocks back and forth, feeling like a ragdoll in Napoleon's arms. There's something primal and simultaneously embarrassing about how good it feels to give herself over to him like that; about the trust she puts in him to have her completely at his mercy.

And then Napoleon stills inside her. And he groans. And before she knows it, a warm spray of come hits her walls. Her eyes widen, only now realizing they've already been going at it for a while, for a while enough that he seemingly couldn't hold back and—

And maybe he just didn't feel like waiting for her to come before he does.

The realization makes her dizzy in an unexplainable way, and she moans so loudly she feels herself pathetically falling into that bottomless fit, just like that, just as Napoleon takes his cock out of her. It's petrifying, coming without him inside her, but strangely the pleasure never ceases. His hand finds his way between her quivering thighs and shoves them apart in a quick manner, beginning to rub at her clit; whispering praises against the skin of her nape, enveloping her smaller body with his own from behind as she presses into the bed so violently, chasing after her peak.

"Come for me. Come for me and scream my name."

And that's enough to tip her over the edge. Coming with Napoleon's load inside her intensifies the feeling; the way her insides are still remembering his shape, the way she's so full yet so empty. It makes her see stars.

"Napoleon— Ahhhhh!!"

"I'm here. I'm here, mon amour."

Napoleon holds her trembling form as he draws out the last of her high, gently moving her into a spooning position. He keeps touching her everywhere, her belly, her breasts, the curve of her shoulder, caressing all the spots that went unloved in their game.

"I felt— so good I thought I might die—"

Napoleon huffs out a breathy chuckle, and it tickles the babyhairs at the base of her neck.

"I'd be lying if I said this doesn't stroke my ego, Nunuche.", he whispers, and it's somehow more shiver-inducing than anything he's said that night. "I think you might be right. I might be enjoying myself a bit too much when I'm calling the shots."

MC turns her neck just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. She studies him again, with his disheveled hair and boyish smile and his low tolerance of putting up a front now that he gave voice to his most basic instinct and let it rob him of the ability to give anything more thought than he needs to. She leans in for a kiss and he takes the initiative enthusiastically but ends up drawing it out to make the remaining endorphins dance slowly between their bodies.

Letting the tiredness in her limbs settle in just like the fact that the room is several shades a brighter blue than how they entered it, MC only nuzzles back onto Napoleon's chest, trying not to give voice to the heat between her legs beginning to awake again without a sense of the time.

"And I might just love to see you like that. Mon empereur."

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[cat3ch1sm]

💚~ hi!! this is my first fic in so long, im so sorry for disappearing for almost two months ... idk I've been at a loss for motivation for a while. happy new years i guess😭. but it's a story based off of @a-hazbin-reader recent headcanons about alastor (first hazbin hotel writing!! exciting !!) i happened to come across it and immediately saw a fic idea finally. all credits to them and the person who requested the original writing (hope they see this too lololol) !!! also yes my anime writings will also return so yayy im officially back!!

heads up this is super long it's like 15 pages cause ya girl got a little carried away 😅 i hope you all enjoy and reqs are open for all!

🌲❦(๑˙❥˙๑)~ mentions of violence , abuse, bit of blood, alcohol, language, lewd language a little bit at the start, fem!reader

alastor x fem!reader

"Angel. Are you able to draw absolutely anything else?"

The aforementioned spider demon stared straight at Charlie with his brow arched and a shit-eating smirk on his lips. Beside his face he haughtily held up a sheet of paper with one of four hands, a drawing depicting nothing other than a giant penis.

"Nope." He popped the "p."

The hotel residents and employees, including Angel, Husk, Vaggie, Nifty, you, and Alastor were doing Charlie's usual scheduled feel-good activity. The devil's daughter had given out paper and pencils, gathered everyone in a circle and told everyone to draw something that made them happy. And of course Angel Dust, lewd as always, had spent a frankly concerning amount of time drawing the member currently on display on his paper.

Everyone just stared at the drawing in silence. Examining it while Angel continued to hold it up with not an ounce of shame on his face.

"Why is it... anatomically correct?" you finally questioned, tilting your head and squinting at the piece.

Vaggie, sitting beside her girlfriend, let out an exasperated groan, looking from the drawing to Angel with undisguised revulsion. "Angel Dust. First you drew pills, then you drew a liquor bottle, and for the last three goddamn turns we've given you, you've drawn a dick. Come on. Are you even trying-"

"Whadd'ya mean?" Angel asked innocently. "Charlie said to draw somethin' that makes me happy. Dicks make me happy. And as a worker here, you shouldn't be judgin' me," the porn star added smugly, making Vaggie let out an impatient growl.

Business as usual in the Hazbin Hotel.

"Well, I mean, you can't really say he didn't try," Husk deadpanned in a gravelly voice. "I mean, look at the vein-"

Ding dong!

"Oh, wow, hey, someone's at the door!" You'd never seen anyone move as fast as Charlie in that moment, and Vaggie was in close pursuit. In a split second, Nifty's tiny frame was flying after them both.

"Someone's at the door!" Nifty repeated in a high-pitched voice.

"Right. While they're distracted, I need a damn dick- fuck. Drink," Husk snapped, rising from his place on the floor. Angel immediately started laughing while Husk wasted no time lighting into him. "Shut up. You and your fucking anatomically correct dick got into my head," you could hear Husk snarl while Angel's taunting laughs never ceased as they headed off to the bar.

With those two gone, it was just you sitting in the circle, blinking. "Right," you murmured, standing up and dusting yourself off.

"Well, my dear? What did you draw?" came the oh-so-familiar drone of the Radio Demon's voice from the corner of the room. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your lips at the sound of it, and glanced up to see Alastor standing with his trusty mic stand, beckoning you to come closer. Of course, you obliged.

You scoffed a little, smile turned slightly sarcastic. "Well... I was going to draw you, but Angel suddenly became the Picasso of Penises and I didn't get around to it."

Alastor laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around your waist and planting a gentle kiss on your head. "Ah, always the sentimental one, aren't you, my dear? Well, no matter. It's the thought that counts."

Your smile turned genuine again at his gesture and Alastor noticed. "There's that smile, sweetheart. Now, if you'd just keep it on your face at all times without fail, we could be quite the formidable pair."

You kissed your teeth with mock exasperation and lightly shoved Alastor away. "Oh, here you go again. And I thought we were having a moment. Alastor, my face just cannot stay like yours for that long-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Charlie came rushing back into the room, her sudden entrance startling you a little. She made her way up to you and Alastor. "Hey, um, Y/N? There's a woman at the door who says she's looking for you. She seems really upset."

Your face wrinkled in confusion. Someone looking for you? You weren't friends with anyone really outside the Hotel and those affiliated with it, so you had no clue who would be searching for you. You glanced at Charlie with a "What's going on?" look and with some reluctance pulled away from your boyfriend's grip to follow her.

As you neared the lobby, you heard a distressed-sounding voice in the door, and confusion growing you walked a little faster to the entrance. But before you could even register who the visitor was, she'd thrown her arms around you, fingernails digging painfully into your skin. But the stench of her familiar perfume wafting unwelcomed into your nose, into your mouth, smothering you and strangling you let you know the identity of this woman without even having to see her face.

You instantly stiffened, limbs suddenly like metal rods, not at all softening into her embrace. Your eyes went wide and you could feel your pulse speeding up.

"Mother?"

"My love! Oh, my precious girl!" she cried, pulling out of that suffocating hug for a moment to cup your cheeks in her cold hands, hands that no matter how gently they touched you their touch would always sting. She peered into your eyes with watery ones of her own, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I missed you so, my dear. This is where you've been hiding? I was so dreadfully worried!" Her eyes, always scrutinizing, ran up and down your figure in the way that made you want to tear the flesh from your bones.

"Oh, and I was worried you were starving somewhere. You were such a frail, skinny thing before on Earth. It's a great relief to see you've put some weight on your bones."

And the first stone was thrown.

"Mother." It was the only word you could seem to utter, fighting the urge to throw up, bile collecting in your throat. Her voice was like a slap to the face, and it was only your mother's grip that kept you from actually staggering backward. And how the others were just staring, awed, at the scene, Charlie's eyes sparkling with tears, Vaggie with a hand on her shoulder and a knowing smile, Angel and Husk watching contentedly from a distance, and Nifty clinging to Alastor who was smiling as usual. God, if you didn't vomit right fucking now, you'd be surprised. But you knew what they all saw in their clouded vision- a heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. But really? It more closely resembled a predator at last capturing its prey.

You really couldn't hear what she was saying over the pounding in your head, but somehow you were in her arms again, and she was fawning and cooing over you like you were a child, showering you with kisses that burned like molten iron and rocking you back and forth. Always she loved to put on a show, loved being the center of attention.

It made you sick.

You managed to come out of your stupor long enough to shove your wailing mother away, unfazed by her crocodile tears. It was like waking up from a haze. She stumbled back slightly, and you backed away, your entire demeanor hardening. Your tone was flat when you spoke.

"What are you doing here?"

You apparently weren't doing that clean a job of masking your emotions, because the venom in your voice caught even you off guard. Your mother looked hurt- that act wasn't new to you, either- and your friends and partner surrounding you shot you disapproving and mildly disgusted looks that clearly wondered why you were being so cold to your own mother. You dropped your eyes to avoid the accusing stares, unable to slow your breathing and fighting the desire to lash out. Charlie looked bewildered and hurt, Angel Dust arched a brow, Husk appeared disapproving and Vaggie’s venomous expression said everything she wanted it to. How dare they look at you like you were the bad guy without knowing shit! She couldn't care less if you lived or died. She was here because she wanted something, and nothing more. Perhaps she heard about your role in the extermination of the Extermination and wanted a piece of the popularity you'd recently found yourself gaining. Or she came because she was probably destitute, the frivolous bitch, and wanted to suck up to either you or the powerful people you were now associated with. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You wanted her gone.

But it was clear she had no intention of leaving.

"All this time, and not one visit. And she never calls," your mother moaned in anguish, now addressing her new audience. "Perhaps I wouldn't have to track you down like a bloodhound if you would just come see your poor mother every once in a while." Her voice was overflowing with hurt and heartbreak you just could feel wasn't genuine. Before you knew it, she had broken down into sobs again, and you could only stand there stiffly, rage boiling, while the always empathetic Charlie moved to comfort the woman, rubbing her back soothingly while she sent Nifty off to get her tissues for her tears. The dirty look Vaggie shot you- "How cruel of you to do this to your innocent mother,” it said- sent heat rushing straight to your chest. Jesus fucking Christ, how could they fall for this shit? Your stomach twisted again, and this time you actually did nearly puke, suppressing a dry heave.

You did not pay any mind to your mother's display- you refused to give her the satisfaction. You turned in the opposite direction, arms folded, nails digging into your skin hard. You felt nothing seeing her cry but bitterness and icy detachment.

"I don't want to see you-"

"Well, now- who do we have here?"

Alastor appeared from the shadows with his sharp-toothed grin, glancing at you first and then your weeping mother. Before you could stifle it, a rush of hope surged through you- if anybody could get this infernal woman to leave, it would be Alastor. You turned towards him, hoping he would see how distressed you were- he was typically fairly perceptive when it came to you and your feelings. But alas, your mother caught his attention first, peering up at the Radio Demon standing over her with teary eyes and wet cheeks, a piteous expression on her face.

"The Radio Demon? Oh, well, a being like you mustn't worry about who I am. I'm just- a poor mother come to visit her daughter. But she... doesn't seem to want to see me." She sighed in a melancholy manner and slowly unburied her face from the tissue she'd been holding. "I suppose I will simply see myself out."

"Oh, nonsense. Y/N's mother, are you? I absolutely cannot allow you to remain on the streets. I insist that you stay." Alastor extended a hand out to your mother, his maniacal smile gone suspiciously gentle. It was disgustingly familiar; it was the smile he reserved normally just for you. "As... abrasive as your daughter may seem at the moment"- you felt him cast a look over at your back turned to him- "I'm sure she wouldn't want you suffering like this. Please, you're welcome to remain here."

You wanted to cry when he said this- could he really not see who this woman was? Did he really think you were just being testy? And when your mother took his hand and held it for much too long, you could take it no longer. And as everyone crowded your mother, showering her with welcomes and greetings and kindness, you pushed past everybody and walked straight out of the hotel doors, the last thing you saw being the tauntingly smug smirk on your mother's face before you slammed the doors behind you.

When you returned to the hotel, drunk, night had fallen. You hadn't seen any of your hotel mates since you'd left, and as far as you knew nobody went after you after your abrupt exit. Who the hell cared about that now, though? You'd talk to them about your deranged mother when you got inside, without her presence. Perhaps Alastor had just been being nice when he told her she could stay, and they hadn't actually been blind to why you were acting the way you were. Maybe they were just being supportive of a guest when they saw you acting out of the ordinary, knowing you usually were never snappy and stony, and still took her side. Maybe so.

You wished you hadn't had so much to drink.The pounding in your head was worse than when your mother had shown up earlier and your eyelids felt heavy. You had tripped a minimum of ten times on the way back and almost let two thugs take you in their car with them. You hated being drunk, but your mother you hated more.

With unsteady hands you pushed open the doors of the Hazbin Hotel, vision blurring a little. You weren't amazing with alcohol, and again, being drunk wasn't your favorite thing. But the moment you entered, you realized you weren't nearly drunk enough.

In the lobby sat your boyfriend, Alastor, enjoying a cup of tea with none other than your mother. The two were laughing together, which incensed you enough, but what made you wish you'd just blacked out at that bar was when you caught sight of your mother's hand on top of Alastor's as they shared a laugh over God knows what.

It didn't take long for the two to notice you in the doorway, a turbulent, unreadable expression on your face, standing as still as a statue as you took in the scene. Your mother turned to you and smiled, waving the hand with the cup of tea in it.

"Why, darling, we hadn't realized you left! Alastor is quite a charming gentleman. We were just having a moment." She slipped her hand from on top of his with a slightly mischievous smile.

Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. You had no fucking clue how, but somehow your mother had discovered that Alastor and you were an item. She wasn't sitting here with anyone else but Alastor, drinking tea with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. And she was wearing makeup she hadn’t had on when she’d first come in the hotel- red painted on her lips, blush dotted on her cheeks and glitter on her eyelids in a display clearly meant to make an impression on Alastor and Alastor alone. It wouldn’t be the first time she'd gone after one of your partners, but it angered you no less- it was like the woman wanted to take your place somehow.

Alastor turned to you as well with a smile, but when he saw the look in your eyes, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. However, he made no comment at your slightly disheveled appearance and picked up his expression once more. 

“Why, hello, my dear. Your lovely mother was just telling me about her life before you,” Alastor enthused. “A lively woman she was! I’ve heard story after exciting story. Quite a wild one, indeed- rather unlike you, sweetheart.”

You gave Alastor what could only be described as what is called ‘the thousand-yard stare,’ expression flat, not knowing really what to say to that. Despite the fact that you were in a bit of a daze still, either from the alcohol or the fact that your mother was on a date with your boyfriend, the haughty, self-superior expression on your mother’s face was not lost on you. Nor were the cow eyes she was giving him, or how when Alastor reached for the teapot to refill his cup her hand was conveniently already on the dish, lingering beneath his for what felt like hours.

She turned to Alastor, looking up at him with that sickly sweet, beaming grin of hers that she always plastered on her face when she was really about to lay it on. “I’m still wild if you ever care to find out,” she purred, batting her lashes at Alastor with an unmistakable air of seduction. 

Before you could even register it, you heard yourself saying, “Get out.”

Both your mother and Alastor turned to face you, your mother’s face having dropped and Alastor’s eyes piercing into yours. 

“What?” your mother asked, looking at you with wide, glassy eyes. You truly saw red for a moment, knowing damn well those tears were as false as Angel’s lashes, and the twitching in your muscles to just lash out was almost painfully difficult to stifle. Alastor’s smile wavered a little as his eyes darted from you to your blubbering mother, who had already started her shit.

You advanced forward, your stride making your mother jump and Alastor stand, and without hesitation tore her hand from Alastor’s, yanking her arm with force that momentarily startled even you. She was pulled from her chair and forced to stand up. 

Her voice full of anguish, she pleaded, “Baby girl, what did I do wrong?” However, unmoved by her over-the-top performance, you’d already started dragging her out, not bothering to respond to her or explain why you were throwing her out. She already knew; you could see past the tears and wails and her struggles to pull away from you. Fueled by fury, distress and the afterbuzz of the alcohol, you hauled your protesting mother out of the hotel, pitilessly leaving her outside in the dark, and forcefully slammed the doors behind her. There were muffled screams of your name coming from the other side, her fists pounding on the door, but after a bit they faded away.

The moment she was gone you instantly felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your chest, slumping against the door with a breath of exertion and relief. But that relief quickly dissipated when you locked eyes with Alastor, who was advancing on you, his smile obviously strained. The way he spat your name at you made you shrink back slightly, realizing that he was actually not pleased.

“You cannot just throw your own mother out like that. Into the streets? My dear, that is no way to treat your mother. And frankly, it’s rude.”

You felt anger rising once more, but you didn’t want to start anything with Alastor despite the fact that he had no idea what he was talking about. Of course it looked simply like bad etiquette from his standpoint; he had no idea who your mother was. And somehow you didn’t feel it was proper to tell him- you knew how much he valued his own mother and mothers in general, and as sweet as you had always thought that was, you knew he and his rosy view of maternal relationships wouldn’t understand and perhaps not allow for your turbulent relationship with your own mother. And you didn’t want to be the one to tarnish his otherwise endearing perspective by explaining how abhorrent of a person your mother was. So despite how much you just wanted to scream at him, to tell him he had no clue what was really going on, you kept your composure, inhaling shakily.

“Alastor, please. You- you don’t know what you’re talking about. So just stay out of it, alright?”

“She’s your mother, not the devil, dear.” Alastor’s tone was back to normal, and he was speaking in his usual radio voice as if he was talking to just anyone, and it made your stomach churn. 

“She’s not innocent, Alastor, she’s in Hell-”

“Ah, but so are you and I, sweetheart.”

Your face crumpled, and you found yourself coming up short for a rebuttal. Before you could stop them, tears started to well in your eyes, frustrated that you couldn’t get through to him. Out of spite and pride, you blinked them back harshly. Alastor tilted his head and started to come towards you, his mic stand clacking on the ground as he walked, and for a moment you felt a glimmer of hope, thinking that he truly wanted to talk and get to the bottom of your animosity towards your mother. 

But the Radio Demon breezed right past you and, before you could stop him, opened the door, and your mother whom you’d thought had given up at last and left waltzed right back in, suddenly no longer the aggrieved mother you’d thrown out and back to beaming a mile a minute. The self-assured smirk she sent your way had your blood boiling with rage, and you felt powerless to act. You wanted to slap that smirk off of her face, but why wouldn’t she smirk? She had Alastor exactly where she wanted him, and both of you knew it. 

“I apologize sincerely for the earlier… incident,” Alastor told your mother with a note olf sympathy in his voice, and again he took her hand; you had to tear your eyes away, back to the scene.

“Aren’t you charming!” your mother exclaimed, voice pleasant and upbeat. ‘Don’t even think of it, I’ve already forgotten.”

“You’re too kind, miss. But in order to make up for it, I’d like to offer you to spend the night. I would hate to send a lovely woman such as yourself out on the streets of Hell after sundown. I implore you.”

Fucking Christ. You didn’t even have to see her to know the way she was grinning at you. Your shoulders tensed, rising to your ears, and the tears burned hot in your eyes. Not wanting to give her the satisfaction, you bit your inner cheek hard enough to draw blood so as to not make the slightest sound alerting her to your tears.

“What a kind invitation. It’s nice to know at least somebody wants me here.” An icy silence from you. “It’d be rather rude not to accept; I would be happy to spend the night.”

“Lovely!” Alastor praised. 

You couldn’t take any more. Unable to stifle your sobs, hot tears falling down your cheeks, you tossed back a cracked “I’m going to bed,” and stormed out of the lobby with your head down, rushing upstairs as fast as you could and ignoring Alastor’s calls of your name. Just as you slammed the door to your room, you heard your mother say, “Oh, don’t worry about her. Let her cool off for a bit, and then I’ll go after her. A mother always knows how to cheer up her child.”

It was quiet now. Hours ago Angel Dust had returned from his work and Charlie and Vaggie had locked up for the night. Nifty had been, though with much effort, put to bed by Husk who had then closed up the bar and retired himself. You didn’t know where your mother or Alastor were, and you didn’t want to. 

You were the only one up now, and you had finally run out of tears. Your head was stuffy, your eyes were sore and bloodshot, and you could feel the beginnings of a hangover coming on. It felt like days you’d spent just crying in your bed, unable to suppress the emotion you’d felt since your mother reappeared that morning. Charlie had actually come to check on you earlier, worried, along with Vaggie, but Alastor had told them to let you be for now. You’d heard their muffled conversation from outside your door.

You just wished Alastor would understand, that they all would understand. Your mother wasn’t a mother. She didn’t nurture, she didn’t love, all she did was belittle you, bully you, and take from you. Yet never once had you been able to figure out what you’d ever done to her. You had tried so hard to help and to please her as a living child, then teenager, then adult- tending to your siblings when she was out on the town, working multiple jobs to take care of the house while she spent the day blackout drunk and the nights in the city, and still desperately believing she would change, you sent her portions of your salary when you grew older and begged her to utilize the money, but she always blew it on material shit. And as if it wasn’t enough that you had to be the mother to yourself and your siblings, she beat you too, mostly when she was drunk but sometimes you felt it was just for her amusement or to make you feel small and worthless. As a teenager she did nothing but sabotage you- you couldn’t ever have friends over because she was always passed out on the couch or acting erratic and stinking of cheap liquor, and you had to fight like hell to get your siblings out of there after you left home for school. And yet you had still had hope for her.

That all changed when you came to Hell. It was the end of the road for real now, and you figured there was no point trying to reconcile with your mother anymore. So you’d left her in the past, thinking it was over, finally allowing yourself a little peace. But you hadn’t realized the extent of the resent you’d been harboring until she showed up at the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel. All those feelings just came rushing back.

Another hour or so passed and your swollen eyes were dried out and heavy-lidded. Exhausted from fretting about your mother and regretting the amount you'd had to drink, you turned over in your bed with a stifled groan and closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would finally find you and you could escape the events of the day at least for a little while. But just as you were drifting off, you were startled by the sound of your bedroom door opening.

You let out a moan that was half confusion and half sleepiness, and rolled over just a little to glance at the door through hazy eyes. “Alastor?” you mumbled questioningly, rubbing your eyes groggily.

But the voice that responded woke you right up.

“Not a chance, pet.”

You sat up instantly, knocking the bedcovers off. In the doorway, a shadowy silhouette in the dimly lit hallway, was your mother. A discordant note of exasperation sounded in your head; the woman couldn't let you be even at this hour? For the moment at least, you were more mildly annoyed than pissed like you were earlier, just wondering what in the hell she could possibly want now.

“Why are you even-”

You cut yourself off and immediately jumped out of the bed just as your mother lunged at you like a pouncing tigress; you'd sensed the attack in the way she had been moving and acted accordingly before she could maul you. It didn't mean it didn't still catch you off guard, though.

Your voice rising, you snapped, “What the hell are you-”

Again you were interrupted when she sprung off the bed and snatched your wrists in her iron grip before you could dodge again; her clasp was tight and bruising and you winced painfully. You caught a glimpse of her eyes in the faint light, and they were inflamed, wild with fury she'd probably been suppressing this whole time. It wasn't a new expression.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she snarled, voice trembling with fury. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you demanded, tearing your wrists from her grasp and moving a distance away from her so she was on one side of the bed and you were on the other. By the bewildered look on her face, she was clearly not expecting you to break away so effortlessly; maybe thinking she could just abuse you like she did when you were a defenseless child.

Like hell.

“What the hell are you even mad at me for?”

Your mother, seething, launched more accusations at you. “You think you're better than me, now, is it? Saw your sorry ass on the news after that damn Extermination rebellion. Bet it took your ego up a few notches killing those Exorcists, huh? And now that you're in some fancy hotel, dating some powerful boytoy and hiding behind hell's princess, you think you can just get rid of me?”

“Apparently fucking not, because here you are. And I'm not hiding. I'm trying to get away from you.”

Your mother let out a bitter, droll laugh. “Oh, you think that's how this works?” she hissed in an icy manner, and even though you were already a good distance away you backed up further still. “Think again, whore. I'm the one who deserves to be here, not some ungrateful little cunt who just happened to fall out of me. If I have to live destitute in the back alleys of Hell, so do you.”

The heartless insults and vulgarities she hurled your way would have shattered the living version of you. But it was about time your mother learned that you were no longer the pleading daughter you’d been on Earth, and instead of piercing your heart the names merely bounced off of you.

“You might recall I spent my whole damn life trying to help you,” you answered with equal coldness. “And for nothing, too, because here the hell we both are. Don't blame me because you turned out to be the nothing you always were.”

Without warning, she lunged at you, rushing forward like a charging bull, and though you tried to dodge she managed to snatch a handful of your hair and slam your head into the wall. You let out a cry of shock and pain and spots exploded in front of your vision before you reached up, tore her hand from your head and shoved her forward. You advanced again, teeth bared and fists balled, unwilling to let her get up- but before you could swing, there was a crackle in the air- and what followed was a cacophony of static, crackling, and microphone feedback that would've deafened an elephant. But the sound wasn't new to you, and you weren't surprised in the least when you lifted your eyes to see Alastor, smile maniacal and glowing red eyes wild as he entered the room. The sudden explosion of sound made your mother flinch and clap her hands over her ears, and seeing your opening, you kicked her to the ground; her head hit the wall rather roughly and she lost consciousness, her body going limp. You were breathing heavily, staring at her body sprawled on the ground without pity.

Alastor's eyes lost their luminescence and his smile softened; and he came over to you, attempting to touch you, but you shied away. You weren't necessarily ready to forgive him; if he'd just done a little more pushing and hadn't invited your mother here with you, this could have been avoided. You dropped your eyes to the floor.

“I'm sorry, my dear,” Alastor offered in a voice that was sufficiently staticky. “I wasn't too kind to you today.”

You wanted to say, no shit, but held your tongue, back to him still. Feelings of resent still swirled within you, but admittedly, hearing his apology did make them dissipate a little.

“Why is it you didn't simply tell me she was like this?”

Now you were silent not out of spite but more because…you simply didn't know what to say? Where were you to even begin? How would you explain that you didn't want to somehow tarnish his view of mothers by explaining your history with your own? And that you didn't want him to feel guilty about having a good relationship with his mother while yours was knocked out on the floor in front of you? And that you didn't want him to lose his love of mothers because you were unfortunate enough to have a shitty one? 

Somehow you managed to splutter all of that into something coherent, because Alastor gathered you in his arms without waiting for your approval, which you didn't mind, finally feeling somewhat okay since your mother had first shown up. You felt his hands in your hair, taming the out of place strands, and he lifted your wrists to his eyes, tutting in disapproval when he saw the bruises beginning to form. He settled for wordlessly kissing the deepening marks gently, but when he spotted the gash on your head where your mother had slammed you into the wall, his smile turned positively venomous. His head did a full 180 on his neck, which always made you cringe, to glare at your groggily awakening mother, who froze in her position on the floor when she caught his alarming gaze.

Alastor turned back to you, static popping in the air, and his smile grew- if that was even possible. “Well, sweetheart? What would you like me to do with her?”

You were frankly tired now of fighting your mother, who had staggered from the ground, rage still evident in her visage but with Alastor present she wasn’t about to act. So with a weary sigh, slumping into Alastor’s chest, you muttered, “I just want her gone.”

“Anything you wish.” And within the next few minutes, Alastor had summoned Nifty, who was more than eager to take out the trash, and had the tiny janitor drag your mother from your room by her hair. You lost sight of the two after they left, but by the way Nifty was giggling the entire time she was hauling your mother, you had a feeling the next several hours wouldn’t be too enjoyable for her.

You’d been on edge the whole day, but you didn’t quite realize the sheer amount of tension your mother’s presence had placed on you until it was only you and Alastor inside the room. His hand traced soothing circles around your back, and you finally felt like you could breathe.

The morning, after what seemed like centuries, finally did arrive. You were already up although day had barely broken, and that was because the earlier commotion had disturbed the hotel residents and they had literally gotten you and Alastor (who had evidently felt bad enough to spend the rest of the night with you, which he didn’t often do for posterity reasons, kissing the side of your head where it was wounded and apologizing once more) up out of bed to barrage you both with an onslaught of questions (and Nifty remaining suspiciously silent save the occasional maniacal giggle). With some reluctance you gave the group a brief explanation of everything that had gone down, Alastor standing beside you with a protective hand on your shoulder. Long story short, everyone basically grasped that they’d fucked up by allowing your mother in and judging you harshly about it, and before long Charlie was in tears and begging for you to forgive her, Vaggie had admitted her remorse over it, Angel Dust was shifty-eyed and sheepish, and Husk apologized to you formally. You dismissed the apologies with a grateful look, and that seemed to satisfy them all except Charlie, who you had to tell straight out you truly did forgive her at least five times and that only set her off bawling again to the point Vaggie had to carry the girl out.

Alastor, although one couldn’t tell by his face, apparently did feel guilty about his involvement in the whole fiasco because he took you out for breakfast and spent the rest of the day with you, and by the time night fell once more your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your spirits were significantly lifted. It wasn’t until the two of you were in bed together (again, your lucky day, you didn’t even have to convince him) that he broke the long, contented silence you two had been sharing to inform you curtly:

“You didn’t ruin my opinion of mothers, you know.”

You sat up at this, eyes wide with hope and relief. He rose along with you to meet your gaze.

“I didn’t?”

“Oh, no. My dear, I love my own mother dearly, but don’t think I’m not aware that others may not have the same relationship with their own mothers. I did admire your resilience, though, and though it really wasn’t necessary, I do appreciate your attempt to spare my feelings. If I do say so myself”- his hand came to rest on your lower belly- “you seem like you’d make quite a stellar mother yourself.”

“Alastor.”

“Merely a thought.”

[liveontelevision]

Who Wants Pancakes?

@alcoris-shiz requested some Radioapple stuff and i hope this is okay 😬 I haven't written for any ships yet, so this is my first shot at that 🎉

18+ Smut-ish, Mentions of Blood

♡♡♡

Lucifer didn't think the proximity would become a problem, I mean, he purposely made his office as far from that damned radio demon as possible and it still wasn't enough of a buffer to keep him off his ass. Still, other than having an occasional argument or just hearing some insulting mutters in passing, it wasn't all bad. The hotel was finally picking up and getting some residents, and he did make a promise to lend a hand where possible.

Something Charlie suggested early on was weekly hotel staff breakfasts. It was a fond memory, though a distant one, to have a hot plate of pancakes with her parents, so she was quick to suggest Lucifer start making them one day of the week for everyone to enjoy. Unfortunately, that does include Alastor. He agreed with delight, willing to do anything for his dearest daughter even with the slightest hesitance.

After a few weeks, it actually became something Lucifer looked forward to. Sure, he had to deal with the more extreme personalities of some of the staff, but it's been quite a while since he cooked and he was glad to get the chance to enjoy it with Charlie, again. Alastor had actually never joined this routine, which he had to admit, sent a stir of emotions to Lucifer's head.

Was he too pompous to even accept pancakes? What could that damned fool be doing that was so important, he couldn't sit down for a mere hour? Should he consider trying different recipes? He knows Alastor is a cannibal, but there had to be some exceptions.. But why should he care?

He often embarrassed himself by entertaining the idea of trying to satisfy him in any way.

"Who's ready for pancakes?" Lucifer pushes the kitchen door open with his back, his arms stacked with plates upon plates of freshly made pancakes as he sang out the phrase with a smile. An audible hum emerged from each of the staff members seated at the table, the scent filling the room. He skillfully slid the plates free of his arms and lined them up on the table before snapping his fingers and allowing each plate to portal in front of the hungry demons. He actually spent these past few weeks learning about who likes what; Angel loved having whipped cream decorating his plate, Husk was a fan of honey baked into his, and Niffty's always looked like an icecream sundae with the amount of toppings she'd want. A classic syrup drizzled plate appeared at the head of the table, a seat fit for a king. So, when Lucifer wiped his hands clean of any baking reminents that might have been stuck on, he was struck with disbelief to a devilish smile meeting him, seated at the head of the table. At his seat.

"Well! What a pleasant surprise! I'm so glad to see you could finally join us!" Lucifer's chipper demeanor wavered as he spoke through his clenched teeth. Alastor slowly slid Lucifer's plate across the table to be in front of the seat next to his, a chair that was always left open, in the hopes that a certain demon would join. Well, here he is.

"Good morning! I've found myself with a bit of free time this morning, so I thought i'd kindly grace you all with my presence. I'm sure you've all been missing me this past few weeks, I do apologize for any worry i may have caused." Alastor smiles brightly, completely ignoring the fuming angel who sat down hard in the only available chair. Charlie was quick to reassure Alastor, simply stating that she's glad to see him and how she's just happy to see him join breakfast. But Lucifer was clearly not entertained by that answer, since it's simply just not true. Lucifer let's out a crood fake laugh before picking up his knife with a white knuckled fist.

"What, am I to simply watch everyone enjoy their breakfast? Am I to pick through the trash for my food? How crude!" Alastor puts on a woe-is-me fit, raising his arm to fain over his head in a fainting motion. Charlie loudly cleared her throat to gain her father's attention, then nudged her eyes in Alastor's direction before holding her hands together in a pleading motion. How can he say no to those puppy dog eyes? He can't, unfortunately. With a dramatic dropping of his utensils, Lucifer huffed his way into the kitchen, tying his already dirtied apron back around his waist.

Mumbling some angry profanities about a certain deer demon, he listened to the muffled conversations and laughs that went on right beyond the door. As he began to mix the batter, he heard the door swing open.

"I appreciate your work, Your Highness, but I am especially particular about my food. I'm sure you wouldn't mind me watching your methods, hmm?" Without any answer, the radio demon took a seat at the island across the counter, crossing his slender legs and propping his head up with his hands. Lucifer let out a quiet, "Oh Brother -" before quickening his pace with the whisk. "Now now! Don't let that frightful scrowl ruin my pancakes. I keep hearing of their excellence and I expect just that." He tuned in, his smile only becoming increasingly petty.

This went on the entire time. Lucifer made his pancakes with a scowl, his eye twitching at every little note or critique that came out in Alastor's staticky tone. Afterward, he was finally able to join his daughter for breakfast. Even if his plate had gotten cold, and everyone was essentially done with their own food, he made it a point smile and acted as if he didn't waste his morning on this red-headed prick. Lucifer began to clean up the table, with some help, but he surely didn't mind when Charlie had to take everyone to the lobby for an exercise that was supposed to start sooner than earlier. The worst part? The plate made fresh for Alastor sat perfectly untouched.

"Oh, come on! That fucking piece of ... " Lucifer grumbled, essentially cleaning up everything but that plate, simply too angered to look at it. He brought the dishes to the kitchen, plopping them into the sink. He set his ring to the side as he washed the dishes, humming a tune to calm his previous rage. Menial tasks always did help with that. A static song overwhelmed Lucifer's humming, snapping him out of his little trance and making him whip his head around, to see an all too close radio demon, holding his untouched pancakes in front of him. Lucifer groaned and rolled his eyes before returning to the dishes.

"Oh wow. So! Are you here to help me clean or make fun of how I do the dishes? Either way, I don't need it. Do me a favor and fuck off." Losing his cool for a moment, his final statement come out as a gravelly growl. Alastor let out a despicable cackle, placing the plate down next to the sink, having to lean over Lucifer to do so. Lucifer scoffed when he felt his back lightly brush the other's Torso, attempting to keep a blush from running across his face.

"Why no, good sir! I don't intend to help one bit, not to worry. I simply enjoy seeing a powerful king, such as yourself, acting as a meeger housewife." His voice was far too close to Lucifer's ear, a chill running up his spine as he felt his hot breath against the side of his cheek. In his best attempts to keep his cool, he stood rigged for a moment before continuing to scrub a plate that was already spotless.

"Don't forget your place, good sir - " he spoke in a mocking tone," - I could kill you with a snap of my fingers." He spat out, his face still not visible to the demon towering over him.

"Oh, I don't doubt it! Well, I won't interrupt you again, I am here to simply enjoy the view, as I said before." As he stepped away to sit back into a bar stool, a hushed static ran over Lucifer's body. His eye twitched as he continued to clean his dishes, hoping that ignorance would make him lose interest and find something better to do. It didn't

Alastor's eyes boar into his back the entire time. After a hasty clean-up, Lucifer was quick to set aside his apron and dust off his vest and sleeves to get the hell out of the room. The white noise of static was becoming unbearable. After letting out a sigh of relief, Lucifer blindly went to pick up his wedding band, his hand reaching out and meeting nothing but empty counter space. He began to panic, looking around frantically, patting down his pockets, even reaching into the sink.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - " In the nervous state, he took no time to look back to Alastor, if he did, he'd be greeted with his smile growing impossibly wider.

"Missing something, your highness?" Alastor said with an innocent tone, batting his eyelashes at the king. Lucifer whipped his head around and slammed his fists on the counter in front of him, cracking the marble.

"What the fuck did you do?" His devil features were quick to sprout, starting with his tail that stuck straight up like a cat in distress, the tip just barely flicking. Alastor could feel the heat of the small flame that sparked at Lucifer's crown, sitting right between his lengthy horns that tore through his flesh. His eyes squinted with a terrifying red glow, completely enraged at Alastor's unphased expression.

"Oh, dear! Could you possibly be looking for this?" Alastor wiggled his hand in front of Lucifer's face, flaunting his own wedding band sitting pretty on his red claws. Lucifer wasted no time to reach out and grab it, but of course, Alastor easily got away by standing from his seat.

They danced around the kitchen for a moment, Alastor cackling at every near miss, which only pissed the king off more. His power was used poorly, making him run out of stamina much quicker than he would prefer, but still long enough to tire out the radio demon just as much. They stood a few feet away from eachother, panting heavily. Letting out a final growl, Lucifer flooded the room with his large wings and lunged out in one final attempt. Alastor, not exactly planning out his next move, popped the ring into his mouth in one smooth motion. Lucifer stumbled and stopped mid lunge, the sheer confusion hitting him more than anything.

"What in the unholy hell - What did you do?! Why??" The situation became comical for a moment, his rage dying down as he tried to wrap his head around the bold move.

"You want your ring back, Sweatheart? Come and get it." He spoke awkwardly, attempting to get his words out before opening his mouth and showing off the wedding band that sat right on the center of his tongue.

Lucifer immediately flushed red, his wings curling around his body before tucking behind his back again. This wasn't what Alastor originally had in plan, but seeing his reaction was just as well. He placed his hands on his hips and bent forward to meet Lucifer's eyes and present him with a much better view of his opened mouth.

They stood there for a moment silently. Alastor shut his eyes and hummed for a moment, closing his mouth and slipping the ring on the tip of tongue before sticking it out to present to Lucifer. It took him far too long to make the decision, but Lucifer took a painful grip onto his shoulders and smashed his open mouth against Alastor's presented tongue. He was far too startled too grasp the situation in time, allowing Lucifer to skilfully wrap his forked tongue around Alastor's prying the ring off and into his own mouth. He pulled away, their tongues still connected with a line of saliva for a moment.

Lucifer placed his hand below his mouth and gently spat out his ring, sliding it carefully on his finger still covered in their mixed spit. He never broke eye contact with the dazed deer demon. Lucifer smirked, crossing his arms across his puffed out chest with pride, as if he won something. He let out a satisfied hum before his eyes followed Alastor's body moving towards him. Standing nearly toe to toe, Lucifer had to crain his neck to see Alastor's glowing eyes.

"Do it, again." His voice was low and gravely, a loud static screeching for a moment causing Lucifer to hiss and cover his ears. Taking the oppurtunity, Alastor took a strong hold onto Lucifer's jaw, pulling him upwards until he was struggling to keep his feet on the ground. He held onto his wrist, an angry glint in his eye, yet silent.

"Did you not hear me, Your Highness? Do. It. Again." He couldn't prevent his face from heating up at the demand, slightly gasping for breath. Mustering his strength, he rolled his eyes and sent a wicked grin to Alastor, his face still held in his hands.

"Sure~"

Lucifer took in a fistful of the demon's red hair and yanked it towards his face, making their lips crash together in a heated attempt to take control of the situation. Alastor lost his grip, allowing Lucifer to firmly plant his feet back on the ground. He kept a tight grip on his hair, keeping the towering demon at his level by bending him over uncomfortably at the hip. He continued to wrestle his forked tongue around Alastor's mouth, no matter how hard he tried to keep up with the king, he couldnt help but melt into the moment. And he feel absolute shame because of it.

After what seemed like meer seconds, Lucifer pulled his hair back, causing his neck to uncomfortably crane backwards. He fell to his knees, the only way to break the discomfort of his current stature. He panted heavily, his arms dropped to his side in a beautiful display of obedience. Lucifer's irises glew a shade of blood red at the sight in front of him. He leaned down just slightly to meet his eyes, finally having the upperhand, "I'll do it again, Sure. But - you have to admit that I won." He grinned almost innocently, making Alastor's limp expression immediately turn into a snarl.

"Go on, then. Admit defeat. You lost."

He'd never admit it, but Alastor found himself in an absolutely helpless situation. He was overpowered.

"Sire, you can't possibly be serious, I would hardly call this a game, don't -" before he could attempt to charm his way out of it, Lucifer readjusted the grasp on his hair to lift his head up by his ears. He yelped.

"Ahha! That's a fun noise! Go ahead and do it again, Darling. I'll give you what you want~" Lucifer kept a tight hold on the other demons ears, feeling them twitch in his fist. He leaned down slightly just hovering over his lips, before yanking his ears forward to connect them with his. The sudden motion made another quiet yelp come from Alastor's lips, but it was muffled between their heavy breaths combined.

He reached upwards, grabbing Lucifer's vest and pulling him down until his knees hit the floor painfully. The sudden jolt caused Lucifer's teeth to graze the inside of his cheek, a small amount of blood mixing in between their lips. Alastor tasted it almost immediately, grabbing Lucifer's sides and pulling him into his torso, sloppily trying to lap up any of the angelic blood that spilled from his mouth.

Lucifer pulled away, pushing on Alastor's chest to keep a distance. As they caught their breath, Alastor licked his lips clean of the golden blood that he managed to obtain. He let out a low growl, before picking up Lucifer by his waist and tossing him hastily onto the counter. Pulling him right to the edge, their bodies completely pressed together, he locked their lips again. Lucifer lost his powerful composure for a moment, gripping Alastor's back and letting out a pathetic whimper into the kiss.

Alastor responded by biting Lucifer's lip, allowing more of his sweet blood to spill into his mouth. He slipped his hands between the two of them, slicing the threads of each button that held his vest and shirt together with ease. Pulling his shirt to the side before he could even realize his top was undone, Alastor pulled away from his lips and let out a heavy breath at the nape of his neck before anchoring his pointed teeth at the softest part of his skin.

Lucifer let out a careful moan, quick to cover his mouth lazily to hold back any other noises. His hand was quickly ripped away from his lips, Alastor guiding it back to the top of his head. He quickly took a grasp of his hair again, desperate for anything to anchor himself to reality.

After leaving a lovely trail of bloody bruises and bites across his entire chest, tainting the procelain white skin, he stepped back to look at his work. Lucifer was a panting mess, hair stuck to his forehead and eyes dazed. His shirts had fallen off his shoulders and he was still attempting to catch his breath. Alastor recovered much quicker, wiping the trail of glowing blood that flowed down Lucifer's chin with his thumb and licking it clean himself.

"Well, I suppose I'll admit to defeat and leave you to your duties, your highness." He swipes some invisible dust from his coat before holding his hands behind his back and heading towards the door.

"Ah, and might I say, you make quite the meal!" He said chipperly, leaving a stunned Lucifer still seated on the countertop as the radio static that once flooded his senses slowly ceased.

♡♡♡

Also just saying, I took some inspo from a radioapple drawing I saw on IG and i cannot for the life of me find it again so I'll include it if anyone finds it :,)

[adultish-momma]

High Horses and Lashing Vipers

Two prideful people fight in a kitchen. That's it, that's the fic.

Warnings!(?): Jamil and Yuu curse. A lot. Nothing too extreme (at least I don't think), but there are quite a few f bombs. I headcannon that Jamil curses a lot in his head so when he feels safe enough to speak without a filter that translates to real life.

A/N: Can you tell which trope Yuu and Jamil would be after this fic? No but honestly I mentally come back to this fight all. the. time. I've had most of this dialogue in my drafts for almost two years? So I figured it was finally time to put this piece to bed. Hope you all enjoy!

As always please do let me know if there's any warnings you think I've missed!

"How's it feel?"

They startle him, appearing like a ghost to haunt him with his failures. He cuts them a mean side-eye, glare intensifying at the disappoinment radiating off of them.

"How's what feel?" He hopes his words drip venom. He feels like he can still feel the poison from the ink racing in his veins. Part of him hopes they still feel it too.

"How's it feel knowing you had the entirety of the Scalding Sands in the palms of your hands, and you threw it all away?"

They can't be serious.

"Threw it away?" A derisivie scoff. "You took it from me. I had it, and you and those meddling mer-fucks ripped it away from me!"

"Please, your little coup hissy fit was nothing. You threw away any ounce of power you had when you decided to betray Kalim."

At this point Jamil is seething, that same viscous and angry feeling from the Overblot seeping into his pores. His vision blurs at the edges, eyes narrowing in on the insolent street-rat that dared oppose him.

"I have more power than Kalim could ever hope to possess. That pathetically naive child -"

"Owns your whole world. Your broken, fucked up caste system is maintained by those at the top, and it can be demolished by those at the top. And that child would have delivered every bit of social change you ever craved for on a fucking silver platter with a beaming smile on his face if you had asked for it when he trusted you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about -"

"No Jamil, you don't. You're still too blinded by your ridiculous need for what? 15 minutes of fame? Recognition? Validation from strangers who know nothing about you?"

"It's what I deserve!" he hisses. With every word, he steps into the prefect's personal space, backing them up until they have nowhere left to go. "That sniveling fool gets praised for being able to wipe his own ass, while I slave away keeping his dumbass alive and running this whole dorm and upholding my own grades and clublife and catering to his every fucking whim! So yes, Prefect, I do deserve to be worshipped and idolized just as much if not more than my master."

"YOU WERE!" They explode, forcing Jamil retreat lest he end up even more in their crossfire. It's the first time they've lost their composure, voice echoing off the kitchen tile. "You were idolized! This whole dorm never shut the fuck up about how good you are, how talented and disciplined and hardworking you are. And Kalim?"

"Stop." It's uttered threw gritted teeth. He can't bear to hear it anymore, not from anybody, but especially not from them.

"Kalim damn near worshipped the ground you walked on."

"Just stop."

"No. Because you're still not listening Jamil."

"Stop. Talking."

"You were number one in the eyes of everyone who mattered Jamil". It's said softly, whispered into the charged space between them. Damning words. Everything he's ever wanted to hear, and yet the straw that breaks the camel's back.

"GET OUT!"

It isn't until Jamil can't hear the prefect's receding footsteps that he thinks over their original question. "How's it feel?" Looking around the school kitchen (the only place that feels safe from the disdain of his dormmates on this entire campus), his eyes fall on the still dirty pots from the last time he was in here.

Jamil closes his eyes, and he can hear the Ramshackle residents laughing over the sounds of crockery clanging and pots bubbling. He can see it, the way they looked him in his eyes that first night, agreeing and trusting him before he could even think to use his unique magic. He can hear the smile in their voice over the din of the welcoming feast, and he can see them almost glowing under the moonlight.

Closing his eyes allows Jamil to recollect the way Kalim looked at the prefect.

He opens his eyes and still sees them backed into a corner, sees the self-righteous fire still burning behind their eyes. Eyes that stared him down. Despite knowing exactly what Jamil is capable of, Yuu still looked him in the eye, trusting him.

"How's it feel?" he ponders aloud. And slowly, a smile spreads on his face. "Freeing".

[gaybananabread]

hii! for the tickletober prompts, how about lee dipper with day 12? like the ler (they can be whoever you see fit!) knows/discovers he is really weak to them so they get him. hope you're doing well!

TickleTober Day 12 - Nibbles/Bites

Thank you! I had a helluva time picking a ler for this, but I think Stan fits best. I need to write for him more anyways. This idea ironically happened less than 10 minutes after I finally chose Stan. My brain is weird like that (TvT). I hope you have a fun spooky season, Enjoy!

Lee: Dipper

Ler: Stan

Summary: Dipper is stressing out over the summer spooky season. Stan decides he needs a visit from a special kind of monster.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Once again, the Gravity Falls Summerween store opened its doors. The odd tradition began again for the year, residents joyful as they picked out candies and decided on costumes. Well, every resident but one.

A certain brown-haired, blue-hatted tween was sitting in the Mystery Shack gift shop, biting at his fingers. Ever since the whole "Summerween Trickster" fiasco, Dipper had been wary of the town's strange holiday. He would never forget the scene of Soos eating that thing…ugh.

Stan was taking inventory, making sure nobody had nicked any of his moderately overpriced merchandise. His eyes eventually drifted over to his worrisome great-nephew. That kid would worry himself into the ground if Stan let him…

"Hey picks-a-lot, those cuticles taste good?" He walked over to the teen, flicking the bill of his hat. The older man didn't mean anything malicious by it. He's just unapologetically mean sometimes. Dipper was used to his Grunkle's antics, brushing the comment off.

Dipper tucked his hands in his jacket, looking down at the register. "Sorry Stan. Just thinking about…stuff." He hadn't realized he'd been biting his fingers again. It was an old habit, one he wasn't keen on picking back up. Yet there it was.

The uneasy expression on his face was barely hidden. Stan didn't really know what to do about the kid's nerves. Normally, he'd sick Mabel on him. The tween was out with Candy and Grenda, so that wasn't an option. What to do, what to do…

"Uh…look kid. You want the rest of your shift off? I've got the shop covered, and you look pretty dead." He gave it to the kid straight. Dipper looked like he was one loud noise away from snapping, his fraying nerves and general high-strung mindset on overdrive. Stan could handle the almost empty gift shop, Tuesdays were always slow.

Dipper nodded, hopping off the creaky cashier stool stool. "Yeah, please. Thanks, Grunkle Stan." He lumbered up the steps to the attic, gently closing the door to his shared room behind him.

What was Stan gonna do with that kid?

-

The next few days weren't any better. With the rapidly approaching local holiday, Dipper's nerves only grew. Mabel didn't really notice, too enamored by costume ideas and trying to figure out Waddles's measurements.

He didn't really know the absolute cause of his worry. Was it the chance of Mabel getting hurt? The possibility of another garbage candy monster? The fact that he still can't unsee Soos eating his way out of the monster? All are good guesses. He just wished he could pinpoint which one it was.

His antsy demeanor hadn't gone unnoticed by the other Mystery Shack residents. Soos had tried to get him to play some arcade games at the mall, but he just wasn't up for it. Wendy had little to no luck, her attempts to get him to loosen up going nowhere. It was up to Stan…and he had no idea what to do.

He had tried things that worked before, offering him an extra break and listening to his rants about the Journals. Dipper just wasn't up for infodumping at the moment, and he just got lost in thought on his breaks. On the morning of SummerWeen, Stan finally threw in the towel. He did the only thing he had left; asking Mabel what to do.

-

When he opened the door, Stan was met with Mabel trying to put a superhero suit on Waddles. She was dressed in similar attire, her cape dragging behind her. "Oh, hey Grunkle Stan! You come to see the best heros this side of the Falls kick some butt?"

Stan chuckled, shaking his head. He felt a bit bad for the pig, he doubted those tights were comfortable. Better Waddles than him, though. "Nah, I'll be quick. What should I do to get your brother to loosen up? Kid's been freakin' all week."

Mabel's eyes widened as he said this, her brain quickly piecing together the signs she hadn't noticed. "Crud…he has been anxious." She fidgeted with her hair, giving the pig a moment to nibble on his cape. "I normally talk him down, but if that hasn't worked…maybe make him laugh?"

Stan sighed as she said this. He considered himself a pretty funny guy, but his humor normally made Dipper groan or question his existence. Not the best for making Dipper laugh, though it always gets a chuckle out of himself

His thoughts wandered to the times he had made the kid snicker, landing on a few well-timed zings and one-liners. The last was when he had been messing around with Dipper in the gift shop. He poked his great-nephew's side, and he squealed. He hadn't done anything then, but now? Oh, it's perfect.

"Hey Mabel…your dorky brother is stupid ticklish, right?" She nodded, a smile slowly forming on her face as she figured out her Grunkle's intentions. Waddles nudged her arm, showing off the lovely slobber stain in his cape fabric. "Silly guy, now I gotta redo your cape! Grunkle Stan, do you think you can get Dipper to be less Dipper-ish by 6:30? Our costumes this year are super, heheh"

Stan rolled his eyes, his mischievous mind racing with ideas of how to get Dipper back to normal. Well, as normal as the tween gets. "Yeah, alright. If you hear girlish screaming, cheer me on." He shut the door behind him, leaving his grand-niece to her silliness. That kid never fails to make him smile.

-

Dipper was in the living room, a costume hung on the chair in front of him. Mabel's costume idea that summer was super heros, with him being the villain. It was actually kinda cool, with the utility belt of fake gadgets he and Mabel had put together. The only problem was him.

He was worried about putting the costume on. First off, it would mean going out and trick-or-treating with Mabel. Nothing's wrong with it, his brain was just telling him it's childish. There's also the fact that he's worried the Trickster might come back. Black licorice was bad enough before, but now he can't look at a stick without getting shivers. They very easily could've died.

Stan was creeping in the doorway, watching the tween's inner dilemma. If he wanted to be mean, he could've scared the crap out of him. But, showing a shocking amount of restraint, he knocked on the doorway. Stan walked over to him, ruffling the boy's hair. "Anybody home up there?"

Dipper, successfully snapped out of his daze, swatted at his Grunkle's hand. "Stan! Knock it off!" The older man chuckled, pulling his hand away and smirking down at the tween. That look…he knew that look. The look that meant Grunkle Stan was up to absolutely no good. "Stan…?"

He barely gave Dipper time to think before he snatched his great-nephew in his arms. It killed Stan's back, but it was worth it to hear the shocked yelp and protests from the kid. "Put me down! Stan- get off! Mabel!"

Stan flopped down in his recliner, holding Dipper in his lap. No help was coming for the boy. Mabel was in on it, as he quickly learned, and nobody else was at the Shack. It was just him, Stan, and the evil look on the older man's face as he wiggled his fingers. Crud.

"You worry too much, kid. You're gonna have more grays than me, and I put up with all'a you!" Those wiggling fingers were getting a bit too close to his stomach for comfort. Dipper squirmed, but with the way Stan held him, he was trapped. "Always thinkin' about these monsters and crazy creature things. You're so stuck in yer head, you didn't even notice the monster right in front of ya…"

He tazed Dipper's side, making him squeak at the unexpected touch. "Stahan, wait, plehehease-" He was so unbelievably screwed. "The TICKLE MONSTER!" Stan finally put his wiggling fingers on the boy's stomach, clawing and digging into the ticklish area.

Dipper squealed, shoving at his Grunkle's hands and writhing in his lap. His negative and anxious thoughts quickly faded to fuzzy, ticklish surprise. He hadn't expected this from Stan of all people. Mabel, absolutely, but Stan? He didn't really know how to react. "STAHAHAN! WHAHAHAT ARE YOUHU DOHOIHING?!"

"What's it feel like I'm doing, ya goofus? I'm tickling the snot outta ya. Now hold still." He spidered his fingers across his belly, making sure to get a few scratches in his belly button. "GEHEHET OFF! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHAN!"

Dipper kicked his legs, wishing the recliner was bigger. He barely had any room on Stan's lap, his legs nearly hanging off the armrest. Stan had him positioned so that his midsection was almost unprotectable, his arms practically pinned to his sides.

The tickling, as unexpected as it was, wasn't awful. He'd never tell the old man, but he was having a bit of fun. It was nice to let loose, to let his worrisome thoughts melt into giggles and squeaks.

The boy's laughter was, in Stan's eyes, adorable. It was nice to see the nervous kid laugh like that. Thinking of the night to come, he imagined the kids' costumes and candy-grab ideas. Candy...an evil idea bloomed in his mind. An evil, ticklish, awful idea. "I'm getting pretty hungry, Dipper. Might just have a quick snack…" He pulled up Dipper's shirt, waiting for the teen to catch on.

And catch on he did.

"Stahahan- Stan don't! Nonononoho!" Dipper's eyes went wide when he figured out Stan's plan. There's no way he could handle those. The tween desperately tried to get away, kicking out and trying to grab his Grunkle's hands.

His Grunkle easily pinned Dipper's hands, smirking down at him. It was almost too easy. Stan lowered his head, nibbling on his great-nephew's poor belly.

Dipper shrieked.

"NAHAHAHA! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHA- STAHAHAP!" He tossed his head back, kicking and thrashing under the ticklish nibbles. Stan's old man stubble wasn't helping. The scratchy texture made it so much worse.

Stan was enjoying himself. Hearing the kid's laughter reminded him of the stupid things he and his brother would do as kids, the fun they'd have. Before it all went south, they'd do this all the time. The best part was that he knew Dipper didn't mind it.

Just to be a jerk, he started making little "nom" noises as he nibbled the boy's stomach. Dipper twisted and shoved at his head, but Stan wouldn't budge. The tween resisted the urge to hit at Stan's head, instead gripping his silver hair. He didn't tug, but just grabbed on, needing something to do with his hands.

The nibbles traveled across his midsection, going from his stomach to his ribs, then back down to his belly button. Dipper was in stitches, the simple action reducing him to a cackling mess. He could barely think, his mind reeling at the assault on his nervous system. It wasn't bad, but it was mean.

Dipper managed to last for another two minutes before reaching his limit. The boy's laughter had taken on a breathy edge, his thrashing slowed with exhaustion. He patted the top of his Grunkle's head, tapping out.

Just like that, the torturous sensations stopped. Stan chuckled, raising his head and rubbing his great-nephew's midsection to try and ease the phantom tickles. Dipper curled into himself as he giggled out the leftover buzz. "Youhuhu…you suhuck…"

That got him a poke to the side. "Watch it, giggles." And Dipper, not having much of a choice, giggled. Stan let him go with a knowing smirk. The tween quickly slid off his lap, rubbing his sides. The clock read 5:30, just in time for him to get ready. "Your sister wants you dressed in an hour. Don't be late."

He left the room, leaving Dipper alone with his costume. Stan knew it wasn't a permanent fix. The boy was always stressing about something. He just hoped that the playful moment eased his worries for the night. Those kids deserve a good night.

The tween looked over at the suit, a small smile still on his face. The negative thoughts from before were gone, replaced with a light and happy feeling. He picked up the dark fabric, sliding the mask on over his red face. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all…

[gallifreyanhotfive]

how do you have such a huge amount of doctor who knowledge? do you really remember it all??? have you read all the books and listened to all the audios and read all the comics etc? genuinely so curious how you have such an impressive amount of information seemingly on memory

Hello!!!!

I'd love to have a good answer for that, but I just kind of...do? I wish I could remember normal things too (God forbid I have to remember when my dentist appointment is, no one take my calendar away from me), but there are a few topics that take up permanent residence in my head.

If it's relevant, Doctor Who has been my lifelong special interest. I'm kind of struggling with how to explain what's going on in my head.

I struggle with memory though. I forget people's birthdays, forget their names, forget appointments and meetings and assignments etc etc.

But I can remember my Doctor Who. Doctor Who is...I don't know how best to word this, but it is the language I use to communicate my own feelings and the lens through which I look at my everyday life. I hope that doesn't sound too lame - I genuinely struggle to communicate without making references or without somehow relating my own feelings to the show. It irritates the heck out of my family, but it's the only way I have found to convey important things.

And I'm not saying I bring up Doctor Who when ordering at a restaurant or anything, but if I'm distressed about something, I usually bring up a story or anecdote that would convey how I'm feeling. I don't have words for my feelings, just moments in which the characters feel the same way I do. And normally that's adequate to give them a good idea of what I'm feeling...if that makes any sense.

Doctor Who means a lot to me. To be honest, there is barely a moment when I am not thinking about it in some regard. I remember a lot because the fine details helped me understand who I am and how I feel. It's kind of like...I know a lot about Doctor Who just like the Fifth Doctor knows a lot about cricket. I don't think he could forget a detail about cricket if he tried. And kind of like that, there will always be a spot in my head for Doctor Who. Not to say that I remember every little detail as that is impossible, but I remember a lot more than I probably should, especially if they are details I find interesting or relevant. Hmmmmm. Now if only I could remember where my ID badge is....

Anyway. I hope that makes sense? I kind of just started typing, and this happened. It makes sense to me, but I've been told I sound like gibberish when I try to explain it....so at least I tried?

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part fourteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: i'm picking this back up!! who's excited? i'm excited! i hope y'all like it as much as i've had fun writing it again!

series masterlist

Y/N stood in front of her floor length mirror and tugged at the waistband of her skirt. The purple fabric hung heavily on her shoulders and midsection where her hoopskirt hugged her waist. She hummed to herself and walked to her double doors, pushing them open and continued down the hall to Alina’s room. She heard Genya and Zoya’s voices around the cornner. The three grisha women smiled at each other and kept walking down the hallway.

The tailor and squaller pushed the heavy doors open and paused in their steps when they saw Nikolai standing in front of Alina.

“Oh. Genya, Zoya and Y/N are my escorts.” The sun summoner said with a smile.

The soon to be king smiled with her and nodded to the three ladies as they made their way further into the room. “Well, I shall leave you to it.” He nodded to the redhead and suli before stopping before the inferni. “Thank you again for staying. I know you probably would’ve preferred going back to Ketterdam with…”

Y/N shook her head and smiled softly at the young man, “Ravka is my home just as much as it is your’s, moi tsar. Plus I can always visit my friends.” 

“Of course.” He bowed his head in respect and walked out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

“Well, that one’s a mess.” Zoya spoke as her eyes trailed behind Nikolai. “But I could fix him.” Her words pulled a chuckle from the sun summoner and inferni.

Genya walked up to Alina and held her face in her hands. “You really could have asked for my help instead of whatever team Nikolai sent. I miss pulling straw from your hair after scraping with this one.”

“Uh-” Alina’s hands moved to her hair in a sudden self awareness. “We’re on the same side now.”

“I mean as much as that might be boring, I’m actually rather pleased about it.” Zoya smiled.

Y/N nodded her agreement as she sat next to the squaller on the sofa. 

“And Ravka is next.” Alina held Genya’s hand, “I think the four of us can begin to fix what’s been broken.”

The tailor’ jaw fell slack, “You’re asking for our help?”

“Of course she is. We’re fantastic.” The suli smirked at Y/N.

The redhead rolled her eye and tried to hide her smile, “Where do we start?”

“I’d like you to oversee things here at the palace.” Alina told Genya. “I’d like it to be a refuge for anyone, grisha or otkazat’sya, who needs a safe haven. Like the Spinning Wheel. And you,” She turned her attention to Y/N. “I’d like for you to resume your post and continue to be in charge of grisha training. With Zoya’s help, if you don’t mind.” 

The two who shared the seat smiled at each other. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I think I can whip them into shape.” Zoya stood and held out her hand for the inferni before walking over to Alina.

“As long as no actual whips are involved.” Genya fretted as she too stood to her feet.

“I make no promises.” 

Alina chuckled before an idea flitted across her mind. “And I don’t want grisha to be defined by their orders. No more colored keftas.” Her hands moved as she spoke. 

“That’s a lovely idea.” Y/N said.

“But I look amazing in blue.” Zoya argued. 

The other three shot her a look at which she took a deep breath and gave in.

“And as for me.” Alina continued. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my friends. And I think Ravka could do with some, too. I have a very important blade I have to return to Shu Han and I’m hoping to make some alliance while I’m there.” They each held each other’s hands. “We’ve been estranged long enough.”

“The four of us can do a lot of good together.” Genya said. 

Y/N nodded but her mind drifted to a special group of four who still resided in Ketterdam. It had only been a few weeks since they had departed but she missed them with her whole heart. How can someone feel so attached to people who they’ve only just met… She didn’t know, but she knew that their connection was strong. Was it the life threatening and tramatizing events that took place during their time together? She had no doubt, but she wouldn’t have changed it for anything. 

~

“You three…” Kaz’s voice rang through the room, drawing Jesper, Wylan and Nina’s attention. “An  opportunity has presented itself.” The three crows shared a look. “The most lucrative job we’ve ever taken.” 

Kaz leanded on the wooden rail in front of him. “There’s a new weapon about to hit the market. If it does, it could make the destruction of the Shadow Fold seem like a spring picnic. Every corner of the world would feel the effects.” Jesper’s eyes widened slightly as the raven haired man continued his speech. “It’s a drug called jurda parem. Highly addictive. And if grisha take it, their power is amplified a thousand times over.” 

He turned to face the window behind him, leaning again on his cane. “The chemist who created it fled to Kerch once he realized what he’d done, but the Fjerdans caught him. He now awaits trial. If the Fjerdans weaponize this drug, the consequences would be unimaginable. Everything we’ve ever known, every strength we’ve relied upon, shattered. Any questions?” 

Silence rang through the room as he turned his head to look over the others. Wylan scratched behind his ear nervously as Nina looked like her mind was running a million miles per hour and Jesper just stood silently as if waiting for something. 

“At least you won't be alone.” 

The three crows perked up at the echoing sound of the familiar voice. 

“Yeah, thanks for leaving me to find my way in.” Y/N closed the door behind her as her leather bag bounced against her back. She tried to muffle her cough as she walked into the room, “Didn’t miss the air quality, that’s for sure.” Her smile was strained as she looked at the people she had missed so much. “I had wished we would meet again under better circumstances.”

No one said anything. Kaz looked over Y/N, allowing himself to give into a moment to indulge himself at the sight of her before driving his attention back to the crows. “Let’s get to work shall we?”

[arcticgraverobber]

I just finished: My Friendly Neighbourhood!

I think many people groaned when they first saw My Friendly Neighbourhood - another kid horror game, put out for youtube channels to churn out video after video about: yet I try to be hopeful with these games - I even tried Garten of Banban (don't) - and with my love of puppets I was particularly hopeful about MFN, and it delivered on my expectations.

MFN has a child centric overlay, yes, but it doesn't have much in common with the likes of Five Night's at Freddie's or Bendy and Ink Machine at all. I'm not sure the game appeals to younger children all that much due to the lack of more overt horror elements, it seems too age appropriate: there's no gore, no dark mysteries for theory channels exploit - it wears it's themes on it's sleeve. MFN opts for a subtler creepiness, though even then the game is fairly light throughout. I think the younger audiences for these games are generally drawn to them not because of the elements taken from children's entertainment, but because they seem more adult while still wearing an approachable skin, and MFN neighbourhood wholly rejects that veneer of maturity.

As I said the game is not all that explicit, so don't expect to be going down blood soaked corridors or finding dismembered corpses - but the puppets, they never stop talking. The noise never stops. They are absolutely incessant, never stopping their monologues even when they've been taped up, talking over each other even when they are right next to each other. They only stop when they see you, delightedly greeting you and asking for hugs - which is how they kill you? I won't lie, I was confused when I first died, 'how on earth does that kill me?', but, I suppose I am supposed to being playing as an older man, so being knocked over a few times might be enough - and of course this game won't be showing a grizzly death.

The game play is a veritable love letter to Resident Evil and survival horror in general, taking elements from across the franchise: most resembling RE7 with it's first person perspective and the layout of the buildings, as well the fact that looking at your inventory doesn't pause the game when your in it, forcing you to always be vigilant - but the inventory also resembles the popular briefcase system from RE4, and they even have their own version of the Mercenaries thrown in. The puzzles are all very classic resident evil, and taping the puppets up is reminiscent of burning corpses or boarding up windows in the early games.

So: Resident evil with puppets? The only thing missing for me is some good FMV, so of course this was going to be a hit for me no matter what - but even in terms of Resident Evil clones, this is likely the best I've played so far, and probably also the most approachable. All of the elements taken are used effectively, not simply thrown in just because Resident Evil did it, and unlike many similar games including the ones it's aping, it takes every step to avoid the player becoming frustrated. It's map, similar to the those in the more recent Resident Evil entries, highlights which rooms still have things left to do in them, and when the game asks you to backtrack to gather things it actually marks them on the map for you! I had an actual gasp when I saw that, with how out of character it is for this genre as a whole.

Whilst earlier I said My Friendly Neighbourhood wears it's themes on it's sleeve, that's not to say it's shallow, I can certainly find a lot of meaning in it, although many may consider it to be reading a little to deeply. The show is of course focused around a 'sesame street' type show, and focuses a lot on where this kind of art finds it's place - whether it may even be considered art. Whether art can be good and wholly kind, without being vapid and meaningless. This is contrasted in the background by a nonspecific 'war' which seem to be blamed by some of the puppets for why the show got cancelled, with the idea that before this war everyone was kinder and less cynical, and because of it they are no longer receptive to the messages of the show. I think this could be easily read as a some sort of prelapsarian fantasy, but I think that'd be unfair. The game does present the neighbour's wholly kind view in a positive light, largely, though not without pointing out criticisms of that out look. One of the notes in the game - which I will point out I was always worth reading, unlike with certain other games - details the issues with teaching a child to always be selfless, helping others with anything. This easily allows a child to be exploited, and encourages them to not care about themselves at all.

As well, being 'wholesome' is often a shield hidden behind by people wanting to spread their propaganda without critique. Is it even possible for art, created by a human with flaws and emotions, to be completely 'wholesome'. I would say not - My Friendly Neighbourhood serves to make that point, though putting out a positive front there are always darker things lying in the background, and the lessons of friendship the game imparts would be meaningless without them. Throughout the game you'll have opportunities for your character to console some of the puppet characters, often through sharing similar stories of hardships. Only through misery are these characters brought together, and without it such scenes would feel hollow.

At the same time, the veneer of darkness is often used to make media seem more adult and serious, similar to many of what might be called it's ilk in the 'kid horror' genre. Sort of parodying this, near the end it's explained that the reason that the puppets are so odd and aggressive is because they exposed themselves to other media, wanting to become more like other TV shows that were more successful than them. The most affected of these puppets reisde in the aptly named 'unfriendly neighbourhood', and look more like what you would expect monsters in your standard kid horror game to look like - all dark and edgy.

I think perhaps I may have said a little too much about a game that is primarily a silly game where you shoot puppets - but at the same time I think it's silly to dismiss a game - or any art - like that just because it parts of it are less serious. And while that is the main message I got from playing My Friendly Neighbourhood - don't let it stop you from playing it if you just want a fun silly time with puppets, that's there for you too.

Significance: 2/3

Grade: A

[theobscurepotato]

Dear Yuletide Writer 2024

Dear Yuletide Writer:

First off, thank you! I hope you are as excited about your assignment as I am to receive it. Hopefully the lateness of my Yuletide letter didn’t panic you too much! I enjoy a wide variety of fic, and these are truly some of my favorite canons, so really you can’t go wrong...but if you are looking for a spark of inspiration, I hope this letter provides it.  

General Likes/Dislikes: 

Things I love in a Yuletide fic: M/M, UST, hurt/comfort, banter, happy endings. When I look at the canons I chose, one consistent theme is that they all end on a note of hope, yet the characters I chose within these canons don't always get to experience that. I think, more than anything, what I would love to see is a chance for these characters to catch a glimmer of it for themselves (or for each other, in the canons where I've selected a pairing). 

Things I generally don’t like in a Yuletide fic: AU’s set outside of the canon setting (coffee shop, etc), MPREG, graphic gore, body horror, unhappy endings. That being said, if you have a wild idea that goes against these, these are definitely more loose guidelines than DNW’s. 

___

Coldfire Trilogy

Damien Vryce/Gerald Tarrant Not sure if there will ever be a Yuletide where I don't request CFT fic. I do write frequently for this fandom, but just because I write in a certain style, please don’t restrict yourself to my “usual” topics. For this canon especially, I’m excited to read what you want to write.  I’m starting my millionth re-read of the trilogy, so I am excited to read anything set either during canon, or a post-canon fix-it. Give me all the banter. Give me all the UST. Give me Gerald Tarrant doing something kind (while doing mental gymnastics to justify it to himself as FOR SELFISH REASONS ONLY). Give me Damien forgetting to agonize over what GT is and just enjoying a moment with him (bonus points for him Prophet!fanboying). Give me physical contact of some sort between them, give me the soul bond! I ship these two hard, but I am happy to read pre-slash/gen.

Dimension20: Escape from the Bloodkeep

Leiland (Kraz-Thun) I watched Escape from the Bloodkeep 2 months ago(?) and once I was done, I immediately restarted it and watched the series again. Bloodkeep has some of my favorite Dropout cast characters, but of course it was Matt Mercer’s Leiland who stole the show for me. Someone on Reddit summed up Leiland as “All that dark power and regal lineage turned into a benny hill skit” and in response I can only say, that’s exactly why I’m here. I am happy with both pre and post-canon fic, gen or shippy (and not picky on ship). I’d really love to see Leiland navigate how to be Leiland, and not Kraz-Thun, and getting more comfortable in the “evil” found family he has created. Galfast Hamhead, while not requested, is of course 1000% welcome in any story.  Yoroiden Samurai Troopers (Ronin Warriors)

Shuten/Rajura

This was my first real fandom, well over two decades ago now, and Shuten/Rajura was my first ship. I definitely carried a binder plastered outside with the Masho chibi from Amanda Swiftgold’s page and stuffed to the brim with too much printed fic from Mink’s Yaoi Cake archive. This was a rare ship even then, and I am absolutely fine with gen, and fics that include all the Masho. I would of course love a fix-it fic, but I am open to exploring missing canon scenes also. I would enjoy a fic either from Rajura or Shuten’s perspective that grapples with their encounter out on the tracks, and that sprinkles in some of their shared complex history. Feel free to bend canon details in terms of what the armor enables. 

Uprooted

Solya/Marek These two have taken up residence in my brain and will not leave me alone. They truly enable each other in a way that is absolutely toxic, but I would love a fic that lets them attempt to do better by each other. I would prefer that Marek lives in your fic, whether that means exploring pre-canon events, or a missing scene during their story, and I would definitely enjoy a fix-it (just think of the hurt/comfort possibilities!) where they get to figure out their version of a happy ending. How do they navigate a world where they both wield less power? Would they be able to make their peace enough with that to carve out something new? Or would they chafe against that lack of power, and it would be that struggle that entwines them further?

[alicethepiper]

just thinking about a re5make

just the title. i'm on an re4r binge again (when am I not) and I'm just so excited to go back to Kijuju.

re4remake is easily my favorite game in the series and even as someone who has yet to finish the original, i still see and listen to the accounts of others who did - and their comparisons between the two mean a lot and have me excited for what's in store for re5. i think i'm so excited because unlike og re4, i have beaten re5 countless times and im just - ahhhhhhhh. so excited. (if i come across a sheva in og re4 mod watch me beat it immediately lol)

was watching a playthrough of re4make and person playing was complimenting it while also going through her favorites between og and remake. she was commenting on the krauser boss fight, and then the saddler one. and maybe it's literally just how goopy and gross saddler is (and that's what reminded me of excella), but i am so excited to see excella's boss fight. just, in that moment, i was like "oh shit. there is a chance that we're gonna get an updated re5 and we're gonna see botox buddy #2 in all her remake glory." and that's so fucking cool.

i have so many (constructive, i hope) criticisms of re5 - i played the xbox 360 version originally a year ago, and then this summer came back to it, saw re5 on sale, and caved. Since this summer i've only been playing the PC version - and i play it with a lot of mods.

my main complaint (and also source of excitement) is the absolutely disgusting horrible godforsaken green filter, or the idea of a *lack* of it. re4make is so fucking pretty. i am so excited to see that treatment given to other resi games. and i want more from the environment too. there's literally so much opportunityyyyyyy capcom pleaseeeee.

you change location so much in re5. in particular, im a huge fan of the marshlands and it's essentially the stone retrieval thingy in chapter 4(?) of re4make. just - imagine the marshlands with more color?? more foliage?? just, more?? agh. and there's the beautiful scene with the sun rising behind sheva as she and chris ride around on the boat? i need that whole section with the sun rising. do you know how pretty that would be? and then when you get all the slates and open the door, the sun can come up more and whatnot idc. just, let me ride the boat around the pretty marsh. let there be more animals just chilling about (not just the alligators/crocodiles/i can't tell the difference/i always forget/i'm sorry). let me kill enemies with a beautiful sunrise behind me pleaseeeee. i know resident evil is a "gross" series with lots of gunk and shit, but there are so many instances of the games being absolutely gorgeous. the train in re0? queen zenobia? the rcpd literally being built on top of an old museum? let re5 be pretty, capcom. pleaseeeeeee

i'm also just excited for the bossfights overall. everything in re5 is huge and in a potential re5make, there's such an opportunity to make it feel just MORE. irving? excella? jill's bossfight in general??????? literally there is so much potential here. i'm so excited for a jill fight. make the environment more. the voicelines when chris calls out for her. when you play as sheva and AI Chris will stand in front of Jill so you don't shoot her??? i could cry.

also capcom make me like the mkono boss fight please. when i grab the flamethrower, make it do something :)

also, all of the ruins in the game just have so much promise. i haven't played tomb raider in a hot minute, but i remember that shit being fire. give it the tomb raider treatment or something idk.

another thing that i'm so so desperate for is dialogue. i NEED more conversation between Sheva and Chris. They're literally at the hip the entire game, so let them talk. I want to know more about Sheva. I want Chris to slowly open up about Jill, Raccoon City, and the Spencer Mansion. Let that man talk a bit about Wesker - Sheva is walking into hell with him, she deserves to know what's up. (and please bring karen dyer back pleaseeeeeee). from my understanding, sheva was really only supposed to be a liaison between the different BSAA locations. she's essentially there as a translator and guide for chris - yes, she can take care of herself and kick ass, but she wasn't supposed to have to. and then shit hit the fan. so let them talkkkkk about it. let her open up about her dead parents and shit. let chris open up about his dead parents. orphan bond and shit idk

i'm not sure how co-op is gonna work with potential re5 or re6 remakes, but I personally love being able to play with other people. either way, a girl can dream.

i'm sure there's more i could think of but this is what came up off the top of my head. i have no clue if we'll get an re5make (it seems like it would make sense that it comes next after 2,3, and 4 getting a remake). i'm not like keeping my hopes super high or anything but i do want my thoughts out into the universe because i think it would be cool to look back at what i was thinking before re5make was promised/not promised/delivered, etc.

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

Hello. Do you know if there is anything official about Ada regarding her past? I feel like Capcom should at least do something about this. I think many, even those who hate Ada's character, would sympathize with her if they told a story about her past, plus people who hate her would not see her as a "villain" as they say if she gave reasons. for a story about what happened to him in his youth. (although I know she has changed throughout the games, but I think people still need to see her past) I've been looking for things related to her past if there is anything, but no, we don't have anything on her. We only know that she has been a mercenary since she was young, but what is the reason? The only thing is a manha where Ada tells Leon that Umbrella and other kids grabbed her, but it's not official, that's no use. Capcom needs to do something and let her be mysterious. I want a story from his past for Ada. Without a story, people who speak ill of her do not sympathize; With a story people would stop talking bad about her. I think that's Capcom's mistake, not people's. In the remake of Resident Evil 2 he had the opportunity to give something to Ada as they did with Hunk and even with the police officer at the store with a minigame. There I think it was an opportunity to put something about Ella or at least after her fall on the bridge. Correct me if I'm wrong too. I love Ada, I would really love her to have her other game where she is the protagonist. That is, in separate ways, it was a success. It would be another success if they made another one of her.

Hello.

No, there is nothing official about her past. There's a lot of speculation and non canon stories and theories about her past. But nothing has ever been put down as like 100% fact. Honestly a lot of the characters have very little concrete background info for their past. LIke a lot of Leon's supposed past is mostly speculative or mismashed from a bunch of things and then that story was spiralled into fandom I think that the allure of Ada has always been the fact that she's mysterious but like, i think we're hungry for more. sure, I'm okay with the fact that we may never know the real truth about her past... but i think that also does a disservice to aeon and the way leon interprets her and their relationship

to know everything about her past does little to change my opinion on her, and i think that it'll do little to change leon's opinion on her too.

i've said this before, but i don't really like the whole "black widow treatment" that some female characters receive for "character development." meaning, i don't care for anything that has to do with SA or anything regarding fertility to make a female character "have to suffer" so that they have some sort of consequence.

i don't like any back story with ada regarding SA or being sold or having the black widow thing.

LAST THING

because i feel like people have such varied ideas on what her past is like, i tend to air on the side of caution and tend to have her struggle with maintaining memories going that far back into her past. especially since i tend to write ada in her late 30s - 40s, it doesn't make sense for me to write super in depth things from her childhood etc.

uhHHH anyways i hope that answered some question sfjkbsjkfs

i do want more ada in game tho

[eventinelysplayground]

Astronomy Lesson

Happy Birthday @fang-and-feather! I wrote this for you as a birthday present so I hope you enjoy! I have not finished Isaac's route as an FYI but he's the one I had the idea for. I hope that you have a wonderful day! Isaac finds out Mitsuki's birthday is soon and wants her first birthday with him to be special but he has no idea what to get for her. WC approx 1215.

Isaac was in his room pacing and twirling a lock of his hair. Things had started out fine that morning but before breakfast was over everything had been thrown off kilter.

***Flashback***

“ You seem a bit distracted Ma Cherie , is something the matter?”

“Oh not really. I was just thinking about my birthday and…”

“Your birthday!?”

Several of the residents spoke at once, some nearly spilling coffee or choking on their food. Mitsukis eyes darted between them all before she hesitantly spoke again.

“Yes, my birthday is on Wednesday. I guess we never talked about it before now.”

“Well we must do something special for the occasion, though three days isn't really a lot of time.”

“I don't need anything special done Sebastian really! I was just thinking about it, that's all. I'm happy enough just to get to spend the day with all of you.”

***Flashback ends***

Isaac had stopped listening at that point his mind was too occupied with a dozen thoughts at once. Like how had he never thought to ask Mitsuki when her birthday was, would she be upset she couldn't be with her family and friends? Were they all going to have a party, what was he going to get her!?Issac had spent the day completely distracted, even during his lectures he found it hard to keep focus. That's how he found himself now pacing his room well after midnight still trying to think.

“Newt!”

“Ahhh!”

Arthur's sudden appearance in Isaac's room caught him completely off guard and he stared wide eyed for a moment.

“When? Why are you in my room?”

“I did knock Newt but you didn't answer so I let myself in. Still can't figure out what to do for Mitsuki's birthday, you know I'm always willing to help you out Newt.”

“You, be helpful?”

“That hurts Newt.”

“Isaac-kun doesn't mean it. He's just worried about finding the perfect gift for Toshiko-san”

Isaac practically jumped a foot in the air before he spun around to see Dazai climbing in his window.

“What are you doing! I mean how even.. can't you use the door like everyone else?”

“I want to help you as well.”

“Come on, sit down and tell us what you've come up with so far and we can help narrow it down.”

Isaac was led over to his sofa and forced to sit down by Arthur who sat beside him while Dazai sat on the edge of Isaac's bed. Isaac looked between the two for a minute wondering if they could actually be trusted but finally he relented.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“That's what I've come up with.”

Isaac covered his face with his hands and Arthur and Dazai exchanged a mirthful glance.

“Well Jewelry is always a good option, most birds love a nice bauble.”

“Or you could go to a restaurant, there's one that has a nice sweet wine so it's easy to enjoy a lot of it.”

“And there's always a good tumble in the sheets, most ladies enjoy that. Pair it with the jewelry and liquor and…”

“Out!”

“But Newt we were just getting started.”

“I'll figure it out on my own.”

Isaac practically shoved Arthur and Dazai out of his room shutting the door on them and their annoying laughter.The next day Isaac was no closer to finding a solution to his problem. After his classes for the day he stayed behind to think in peace, the last thing he wanted was more of Arthur or Dazai's ‘advice’. Though he had to admit that on the surface their ideas weren't entirely bad. Isaac was busy turning over their suggestions and other ideas in his head when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Head in the clouds again today?”

“Sir!”

Isaac looked up at Le Recteur who was smiling down at him.

“You're distracted, what's on your mind?”

“Oh umm…”

“Come now you can tell me, I have a good few decades on you, perhaps I can help.”

Isaac let out a sigh and then knit his fingers together.

“Well you see… someone's birthday is tomorrow. I've been trying to come up with an idea for a gift but nothing seems good enough. It's the first time we're celebrating together so it has to be special.”

“I see, that's a very serious problem indeed.”

Isaac was too busy fiddling with his hands to notice Le Recteurs warm smile.

“Ahhh young love, you two remind me of mon amour and myself at that age. I don't think you need to worry so much about the actual gift, it's clear your mademoiselle is head over heels for you.”

“You..you really think so?”

“Absolument! Just spend time with her and be yourself, I'm sure that will be exactly what she wants.”

Isaac's face relaxed for the first time in days as he looked up at Le Recteur.

“Thank you for the advice sir. I think I know what to do now.”

Le Recteur patted Isaac on the back then left him to it.

Mitsukis birthday party went off without a hitch. Even with the limited amount of time Sebastian had managed to pull off a wonderful cake and many dishes from her home. The other residents had also gotten her various presents all of which she seemed at and thanked them for. When it was Isaac's turn he handed her a bouquet, telling her it was just something for now until she could get her actual present later which garnered no end of teasing from Arthur and Dazai making both of them blush.

The party was well over when Isaac knocked on Mitsukis bedroom door. She opened it and he shyly offered her his hand asking for her to come with him. Mitsuki smiled as she took his hand and together they made their way outside to the garden. There Isaac had set up his telescope along with a blanket and picnic basket.

“I I wasn't sure what to get you. You've mentioned wanting to learn more about astronomy lately so..so I thought maybe we could look at the stars together and have a picnic.”

Isaac nervously twirled a lock of hair between his fingers waiting for Mitsuki to answer. She turned to him with the most beautiful smile on her face and threw herself into his arms almost knocking him to the ground.

“Oh Isaac it's perfect, thank you!”

“Really?”

“Really, I love spending time with you! What stars can we see tonight?”

“Over there is the constellation Auriga…”

Isaac launched into a small explanation about all the different constellations that were only visible at this time of year and adjusted the telescope so Mitsuki could see each one clearly. They must have spent at least an hour gazing at the stars before they finally sat down on the blanket to have their picnic. Isaac glanced at his pocket watch and noticed it was getting close to midnight. He reached out and gently cupped Mitsuki's cheek with his hand.

“There is one more gift I'd like to give you, if that's okay?”

“Of course it is!”

Isaac knew he wasn't very good at expressing himself but he leaned forward and kissed Mitsuki with all the love and passion he felt for her, hoping she could feel it tonight.

“Happy Birthday Mitsuki.”

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Sonine Prime ... Part 5

Hi, everyone and welcome back to Sonine Prime! The part of the show when I come out and talk about Sonine (and a bit of Sontails) in Sonic Prime!

Last time we just barely started Episode 4, so we'll be starting right back up where we left off and seeing how much of the season we can get through before Part 6.

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<< Part 4 | Part 6 >>

(Essay/thoughts/analysis under the cut)

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I lied!

A bit.

We'll pick up right where we left up in Episode 4 still, I promise. I just still wasn't over the ending of episode 3. So, I've decided to use my allotted video per tumblr post this time around to shove it in your faces because I need people to witness this ending. That I am still not over.

Do you get it do you get it do you get it?

Okay, back to the show.

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It's a tiny thing that makes me laugh more than it's relevant, but the scene where Sonic meets Mangey is funny specifically because Sonic is so desperate to find Tails/a version of Tails to help him in each shatterspace up to this point. In a way, it proves to us just how lost Sonic feels without Tails specifically, and just how much the idea of losing him freaks him out.

Sonic is so incredibly freaked out when he catches Mangey (similar to how he was when he thought Mr. Dr. Eggman was going to kill Rebel, Renegade, and Rusty Rose).

"Tails...? TAILS!"

And yet, there's something a bit different about these scenes.

Let's put something into perspective for a moment.

Imagine being Sonic the Hedgehog. Raw talent, natural speed, badnik busting practice. You're aware that no matter what, everything always turns out fine, so you can afford to be cocky. And when things get too confusing for you and "winging it" won't cut it, you've always got your trusty fox best friend. Perhaps even you're a bit scared (whether you admit it or not), you feel lost, like nothing makes sense. But that's okay, because Tails is here. Tails is smart. You can trust him to comprehend what you cannot, to try to explain it to you. Whether you understand or not, at least Tails knows what's going on. And that's enough, because that means he can come up with a plan, and if he can come up with a plan, you just have to execute it. Simple. Easy. And even if he can't understand, can't come up with a plan, at least you have each other, right?

But Sonic woke up in New Yolk alone, has been struggling thus far to understand what's going on around him (one hedgehog with a spotty memory and not even 5% of the context the audience has). So he went to look for Tails first. Because everything is messed up and wrong and Eggman took over, and Sonic doesn’t know how. He doesn't know what happened. But if he can just find Tails, everything will be all okay. Tails can explain it, work out a plan, and Sonic can execute it. They can fix everything together.

But then "Tails" doesn't remember him, neither do his "other friends". He's lost and trying to understand what's happening because no one else can explain it to him.

Or in short, Sonic in Sonic Prime is just trying to seek out the familiar in the unfamiliar, find the one thing (or person, rather) that will make everything make sense, but he can't. Tails isn't around. He's not here (not in New Yolk, Boscage Maze, or No Place). But each time he seeks him out.

And after being ripped away from Nine, and remembering how he'd lost his all his friends before that, it just... Before he knows who Mangey is, when he sees Mangey falling, he moves without thinking, desperate to have Tails back. Desperate to make sure he (and his friends) never die.

"Am I glad to see you. The world is all blgdyblublu. You gotta figure out what's going–"

Even by this point, when he's realized that there are multiple alternate versions of Green Hill, he still tries to seek out Tails/a version of him, hoping someone can make sense of things for him.

But that's the thing. He never finds Tails. Nine and some of the other residents of the shatterverse are helpful, but Sonic has to spend much of the episodes working things out on his own while just wishing things made sense (or he could find Tails, so Tails could make things make sense)

You feel?

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Did anyone ask for more Sonic & versions of Tails and Sonic & versions of Amy parallels? Cool.

So I don't remember if I said this in a previous part, but here's my personal interpretation of Sonic Prime. In Season 1, Tails/Nine/Other Tails variants are paralleled to Amy/Amy variants in regards to Sonic, while in Season 2, Nine is paralleled to Shadow. Whatever your belief is on the relationships Sonic has to certain characters or how they feel about him (and vice versa) canonically, especially in Sonic prime, it remains that S0namy and Sonadow are two of the most popular Sonic the Hedgehog ships. And this is why these Amy/Tails parallels I've been mentioning since the first part matter to me (in terms of what they mean for each of the characters, AND what they mean for Sonic, as well as what the similarities and differences mean).

So. Let's take a look at Sonic's first meeting with Thorn vs his first meeting with Nine.

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Now, the very first difference. How the first meeting went about.

It's important to note that Sonic was purposely looking for Tails back in New Yolk. So when he saw Nine, thinking he was Tails, he followed him to his lab, excited to have found "Tails" and glad one thing (the code to "Tails'" lab) was the same as before. He'd turned Nine's "chair" as he'd done to Tails in the flashback, expecting, well, anything other than for who he thought to be Tails to be attacking him. The idea that "Tails" would attack him instantly throws him off, leaving him confused and sad. But for Thorn? Sonic went into this fight expecting to fight a "monster". For the first minute of the direct fight, he doesn't see more of Thorn aside from possibly her hammer. You can tell how afraid he his by how the camera switches from the hammer to Sonic's face, and shows him desperately trying to crawl away and break free of the thorns keeping him from running. So in opposition to Sonic seeing glimpses of Nine before he meets him proper (and then starts a fight with him), approaching this initially with peace in mind, Sonic doesn’t see Thorn at all until after being hit around a couple times, until after going into all this initially expecting a fight with a "monster".

"Yes! There's my two-tailed genius friend. Surprise~!"

vs

"Amy? You're the monster? Oh. Oh, those guys up above have really got it– Ughk. —wrong."

And then, after each of these, Nine and Thorn attack Sonic.

"Tails? It's me. Your best–"

"Tails, stop! We're buds—amigos! Best friends!"

vs

"Amy, stop! We're friends! You liked me!...to some extent."

Nine and Thorn continue to attack Sonic. Nine and Sonic have a continuous attack on the underground train in the scareport (where Sonic continues to reason with him, tries to remind him of all they've been through together). Thorn sends Sonic up past the trees with her hammer, intending to end the battle altogether.

Now, a couple things to note here. Except when defending himself, Sonic never intends to actually fight Nine back in episode one. In fact, he spends much of the fight dodging and trying to reason with him. And it's clear that Sonic also never expected "Tails" to fight him. The fact that Nine does fight him, treat him like a stranger, throws Sonic off. But with Thorn? Sure, he never intended to fight her in the first place, at least not knowingly. But now that he does know who the "monster" is, he speeds down the nearest tree with clear intent to hit Thorn back. It's only because he flashes back to Amy and this suddenly makes him feel like he'd be fighting a friend does he decide against dealing that heavy blow. And while it throws him off for "Amy" to be so antagonistic, it's clear to me from the "You liked me!...to some extent", and that his first reaction was to hit Thorn back (rather than try to reason with her like with Nine), that the idea of Amy attacking him in general doesn't throw Sonic off. I'd wager that Prime Sonic has likely been at the mercy of Amy's hammer before, in the same way he'd likely never been attacked by Tails.

Now, after deciding he can't just "smash" (as Sonic puts it) Thorn with a clear conscience, he begins to try to reason with her as he had with Nine.

"Quick recap. I'm not from around here. Violence never solves anything. And where I'm from, you and I are buds. So how about we put down your big hammer and just talk, Amy?"

"My name is Thorn Rose, and you are finished!"

vs

"What did you just call me"

"U-Uh...Tails?"

"The name's...NINE!"

...

"Snap out of it, we go way back! All of my best memories of Green Hill have you in 'em, and you're not punching me! Don't you wanna go home? Blue skies, sunny beaches...palm trees?"

"I don't know what kind of mind games you're playing, but it won't work!"

And here's what's interesting about Sonic's demeanor. While he's hurt, confused, and panicked during the fight with Nine (and this shows when he tries to reason with him), he's much calmer when reasoning with Thorn. You know, it's as if to him "Amy" just got angry/lost herself and it's up to him to de-escalate the situation.

With Nine, it's reminding him what Sonic means to him (means to Tails really), of home, of their adventures. With Thorn, it's reminding her of what Sonic means to her (means to Amy really), and, when that fails, trying to calm her down (as Amy herself might) to get her to just talk instead.

Now here's another interesting tidbit for these two fights. When Sonic and Nine enter the scareport, the two of them are on equal footing for the fight. Neither of them really gains the upper hand as Nine fights and Sonic dodges. However, the fight between Sonic and Thorn mostly consists of Thorn hitting Sonic around. Even when Sonic switches from fight mode to dodge and reason with mode, it's a pretty onesided fight, and it's one that Thorn pretty objectively wins. They're not at all on equal footing here.

Luckily for Sonic, though, he's able to successfully appeal to both Nine and Thorn in the end. He saves Nine from being hit by one of the underground trains, and he saves a flicky from drowning in mud. Nine's first impression of Sonic was of a stranger, a bully, intending to harm him and take from him. Thorn's first impression of Sonic is of a greedy scavenger, one of those who would intend to hurt the forest and drain it of its resources.

The tie in? It's that between both moments (saving Nine and saving the flicky), Sonic convinces Nine and Thorn that he's...an outlier of a person.

After Sonic saves Nine, surprising him, Nine finds who he believes to be the only person who would save someone (him) when there doesn't seem to be any immediately identifiable gain for doing so, the only person who may have protected and helped him back when he was young.

While Thorn isn't fully convinced that Sonic isn't one of the scavengers, those who destroyed the forest originally, it's clear that Sonic’s action of going out of his way to help the flickies surprises her. After all, she finally begrudgingly agrees to help Sonic find his way home.

Although, it is also worth noting that while Nine begins to treat Sonic more like a friend than he's ever treated anyone like a friend (when he fixes Sonic's little problem and goes out with him to get the paradox prism), Sonic is treated more like Thorn's captive in episode 4 (one that she'll release out of the forest when his business is finished).

Finally (I apologize for the length of this section of parallels) we get to the bit where Sonic and Thorn find the green shard. So, final things to note. Yes, Sonic spent more time with Nine over 3 episodes than the small portion of 1 episode with Thorn, but I feel it's also pertinent to recognize that neither were actually particularly long stretches of time in universe. Regardless though, for the sake of the parallel, I'm only noting here that Nine has become at least a bit attached to Sonic in a way Thorn has not. Sonic and Nine marvel over the prism together. In fact, it was Nine who'd asked Sonic to "grab the shard already" so they could escape the coucil's fortress together. However, after Sonic digs up the green shard in Boscage Maze, Thorn doesn't marvel over the green shard for too long before hitting Sonic in the face with her hammer, claiming the shard as hers.

But I suppose this also comes back to one big difference between Thorn and Nine.

Nine cares pretty much only about self preservation and staying away from the general public back in episode 1. Thorn, on the other hand, cares about the forest. Thorn was quick to push aside Sonic for the shard, similar to how Nine decided for leaving Rebel, Renegade, and Rusty behind so he'd have a higher chance of escaping with the shard. Only their goals matter. It's just that Nine very quicky integrated Sonic into his plans, while Thorn had not.

Interesting, no?

Okay okay I'll say the thing. Parallels between a Tails and Amy variant both meeting Sonic for the first time and pursing a shard with him: IIII

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So, Sonic goes for the green shard with a spin dash, yelling that he needs it, Thorn goes "as if I'd give the heart of my jungle to a stranger like you. You're a scavenger like the rest" and moves to attack, and so ends episode 4.

Putting the Sonine interactions from episodes 1-3 in comparison to all this with Thorn...really makes me embarassed on Nine's behalf for how telling his actions are😂

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And now for a moment you've (me) all been waiting for (because I didn't find anything in episode 5 I wanted to talk about)...

Sonic Prime Season 1 Episode 6: Situation: Grim!

I've been excited to touch on this episode since I started this little series about Sonine. Why? Because it's one of the season 1 episodes that gives me a lot of second hand embarrassment about Sonine (in a good way!), and it's just so fun to break down.

So, without further ado, let's return to New Yolk.

So, Sonic drops in, gets roped into the ensuing battle with the rebels versus the Eggforcers, and comments that New Yolk City isn't quite how he remembers it. Then, as he goes about explaining that he met "another you" (refering to Renegade), in another place, fighting another battle and the existence of other shards, he asks Renegade where Nine is.

"Anyway. Super stoked to be back to help with...whatever the heck's going on here. Where's Nine? I gotta pick his brain about this other shard I found."

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Later, after Renegade brings Sonic to Rebel and the resistance's base, Renegade "informs" Sonic that Nine left them (Renegade, Rebel, and Rusty) "high and dry" after getting the shard. Of course, similar to the scene in which Nine attacked him in their first meeting (while Sonic thought him to be Tails, this revelation seems to make Sonic...sad (a bit of an understatement, I know). Like he just can't believe Nine would do such a thing.

"I didn't steal the shard!"

"But your fox friend did, right before he left us high and dry."

"He...did?"

Rebel goes on to explain how she and everyone else had trusted them (Sonic and Nine) as a shortened version of the end of episode 3, as well as a continuation of the scene, play out. The audience watches Nine grab the shard, stop and consider saving Rebel, Renegade, and Rusty, before deciding to escape alone with the shard rather than risk losing it over trying to save the three (but it's important to note that Sonic doesn’t see this scene. All he knows is that Nine took the shard and left). Then, Rebel explains that after the event, the resistance grew "without you or that traitorous fox".

Now, how Sonic acts and what he says next tells us a lot about how he sees Nine (or rather how he wants to).

"If they get that energy crystal back, we're done for."

"Nine won't let that happen!"

After having his life threatened by Renegade and some of the resistance (which I may mention that Sonic never gives up anything he knows about Nine to save his own hide, such as the location of his base, even if it is true that he doesn’t know where Nine is currently), Rebel shows Sonic the palm tree. As of the Boscage Maze section, the palm tree has become a symbol to Sonic of what can be, and what he's lost. It's a symbol of the bonds he has with his friends, the memories he made with them, what he hadn't cherished properly before it was gone, and of hope for fhe future. Rebel showing it to him provides adequate motivation to help the rebels, showing him just what's at stake if they fall.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me...but I'm not a traitor and neither is Nine."

"Let me prove it to you. Let me fight by your side."

Sonic how does– how does you fighting with them also prove Nine isn’t a traitor Mr. "I don't want to believe Nine would leave someone to die"

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In any case, the battle between the Rebels, Sonic, and the Chaos Council begin, and Nine shows up just like Sonic always hoped he would.

"Sonic! Hang on!"

*In Unision* "Nine?!"

"You got a plane!...kinda."

In hindsight, we know Nine came to New Yolk to find Sonic and bring him back to The Grim with him. We know this is likely his intention, given how he yells Sonic's name immediately upon appearing in New Yolk, and then says "hang on!" when he sees him in danger.

Bit of a side note here, I actually almost wonder if Nine has the ability to track Sonic (perhaps through his regulators?). I say this because there is no proof, even by season 2, that Nine had gone looking for Sonic in any other shatterspaces and seen them before (in fact there's more proof he went to Boscage Maze and No Place for the very first time while he and Sonic were trying to make off with the shards towards the end of S2). If he was looking for Sonic specifically and just so happened to know not only what shatterspace he was in but also where he was, it makes sense that Nine would be able to portal to about exactly where Sonic was and to come out of the portal yelling his name.

As for Sonic, while Rebel and Renegade are (understandably) none too happy to see him, Sonic is just...so happy, man.

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Now, for the next bit where Nine participates in battling the Chaos Council, I think the intentions here are so interesting. Because Nine? He came here just to find Sonic and bring him back. He's battling the Council to free up Sonic and give him an opening to join him. We know this because Nine practically portals out New Yolk the moment Sonic is safe in the cockpit. Basically, Nine only "helped" so he could return to the Grim with Sonic.

But Sonic? He's just got done asserting that Nine would never betray anyone. He wants to believe that Nine cares for people and fighting for good like he does (and like he believes Tails does, but how Sonic sees Tails and how Tails actually is is an essay for another time). So when Nine shows up and starts blasting the council, Sonic believes not that Nine showed up just for him, but that Nine came to help. To Sonic, Nine showing up in their hour of need proves that he's not a traitor, proves that Nine cares about spreading good and peace to New Yolk like Sonic wants to believe.

Understanding their differing points of view and stances on everything is integral to understanding the miscommunications to come in this very episode, and in the future. And, so does understanding how each of them badly want to believe in a version of the other that wants everything that they want and is the way they think they should be.

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...And that will be it for part 5 of Sonine Prime, everybody! This was a long one, and it would have been longer if not for the tumblr photo limit, but no matter. Next time we'll be continuing Episode 6, and I'll probably mention a hundred more times how embarrassing Sonic and Nine are about each other (Mr. "I smile as soon as I see you again after time apart and wanted to see you again so bad" and Mr. "We barely knew each other for a day but I want to spend my life alone with you in a world of our own making").

See you in the next one!

[ninja-muse]

As you might know if you saw my review the other day, my December felt very slumpy even though I read a lot of good books. I suspect this is because of book hangovers and working a busy Christmas retail season. (I also didn't write much because I kept coming home too wiped to think.)

But it was a good month! I managed to get to a couple new releases that I really wanted to, and I knocked a lot of books off my physical TBR because none of my ARCs looking interesting. I did have a DNF again, though, of a book that I was really hoping would be great. Isn't that always the way?

I also had two rereads! One because sometimes when you're at a loss to read, you pick up Pratchett, and one because I'd promised myself I'd get to it this year and dash it, I was going to! Weirdos of the Universe, Unite! was one of the most seminal books of my childhood, and it wasn't until I reread it that I realized just how much it was. I saw a lot of my personal attitude to life in Maddy, it was probably my first true urban fantasy even though there's a whole act on a spaceship, Baba Yaga is there as a very cranky but practical sort of witch…

As for my book haul, I just want to say that it was Christmas and I didn't actually buy anything? My parents came through with some really oddball picks, as I'd expected, my sister gifted me one of her favourite reads of the year, and friends helped feed my T. Kingfisher addiction. (More on that in my yearly wrap-up.)

But the book I'm most excited to have gotten is Hogfather, and not because of the pretty cover though that's a bonus. It is, in fact, the most astounding misprint I've ever seen and I couldn't pass up a chance at a free copy. I mean, how many times do you find a beloved book in which the entire thing is bound backwards?! Thank goodness the publisher didn't want it back, is all I'm saying.

And that's probably about it! I have no idea what book I'm going to start 2024 with, because I sort of read 200+ pages of Persepolis Rising last night so I could knock it off my list and now I'm recovering from the binge.

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

A Power Unbound - Freya Marske

Jack, Alan, and their friends must find a hidden artifact and foil a plot. This would go better if Jack and Alan got along.

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (gay, bi man), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay, bi woman, lesbian, genderfluid) 🏳️‍🌈 author

All the Hidden Paths - Foz Meadows

Velasin and Caethari are still feeling out their relationship when they’re summoned to the capital and almost immediately find themselves targeted again..

7.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (mlm), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (mlm), mute secondary character, cast of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 author warning: anxiety, aftermath of trauma, dubious consent

Last Chance to See - Douglas Adams with Mark Carwadine

A bumbling science fiction author travels the world in search of endangered animals.

7/10

Illuminations - T. Kingfisher

Rosa wants to help her artist-magician family, but instead she accidentally releases a creature bent on destroying them!

8/10

Lovecraft Country - Matt Ruff

Two Chicago families in the 1950s become caught up in a world of cults, ghosts, monsters, and magical danger. Fortunately, they’ve had lots of practice at mistrusting white folks.

7.5/10

primarily Black cast

warning: depicts Jim Crow-era racism, including slurs; also abusive family dynamics

Persepolis Rising - James S.A. Corey

Thirty years on, the system has achieved a new normal. So of course one of the colony planets decides it’s time to shake things up.

7.5/10

very racially diverse cast

Remarkably Bright Creatures - Shelby Van Pelt

A cleaner at an aquarium mourns her losses. A young California man seeks his absentee father. The resident octopus tries to bring them together.

7.5/10

Jamaican secondary character, Korean-American secondary character

Ragnarok - A.S. Byatt

A child in wartime discovers Norse mythology, and the ways myths and the world reflect each other.

7.5/10

warning: animal cruelty and injury

While Idaho Slept - J. Reuben Appelman

Four students are murdered in a single night, and what came before and after.

7/10

warning: violent murders

Monstress, Volume 3 - Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (illustrator)

Maika finds temporary refuge from the people chasing her, but the local leaders want a favour in return.

7/10

one-armed protagonist, cast of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic), Taiwanese-American author and Japanese-American illustrator

Reread

Weirdos of the Universe, Unite! - Pamela F. Service

Mandy and Owen get assigned a mythology paper, but then the characters they pick start coming to life and insisting they have a great purpose.

Black secondary character, Indigenous secondary character, Chinese secondary character

warning: somewhat lazy depictions of Indigenous and Chinese people

The Unadulterated Cat - Terry Pratchett with Gray Jolliffe (illustrator)

A humourous celebration of all things cat.

DNF

The Undetectables - Courtney Smyth

Someone’s committing Occult murders and a crack team of Occult investigators has been called in. Or, they’re totally going to be the crack team someday, at least.

main character with fibromyalgia, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian), fat secondary character, Chinese-British secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

Currently reading:

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories

major disabled character

warning: racism, colonialism

Stats

Monthly total: 11+1 Yearly total: 128/140 Queer books: 2 Authors of colour: 1 Books by women: 6 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 0 Off the TBR shelves: 7 Rereads: 2 Books hauled: 8 ARCs acquired: 2 ARCs unhauled: 2 DNFs: 1

January February March April May June July August September October November

[toreencapsicle]

For what it's worth - Chapter one (Danny Phantom fanfiction)

Helloooo! It's been so long since I've written fanfiction, it's crazy! However, I'm sick right now and I went on a random reading spurt for the first time in years and basically inhaled all of liketolaugh's Danny Phantom fanfiction on AO3, which heavily inspired me to write down this idea I've had for a while. So I guess this is also somewhat of a gift for them? I'm struggling a lot to write a fanfiction with OCs, being scared of negative backlash. But I'm too sick right now to care, so let's gooo!

Also, typical: English is not my first language, please let me know if you find any mistakes!(again..also sick as hell right now, so that might make matters worse oops). If you want to read it on AO3, you can do it here!

Summary: Reyka Dup would do anything to get away from her family, that is obsessed with the occult. After having been used for all types of experiments all her life, with the cliché excuse of being "the one", she manages to flee, ending up in the Fenton's residence in Amity Park. However, she has changed in a way that is irreparable and she has to learn how to deal with that, on top of her trauma. The realization that she might not even be from the same dimension only makes matters worse for her.

Tags and Warnings: Mention of Abuse PTSD Swearing Blood mention Heavy Trauma Suicidal Mention

"If you push this button right now-...no one knows what could happen!" "Anything, and I mean anything to be free from this rotten nightmare of a household!"

A click. A moment of silence. Then a flash of green and a bang.

______________________________________________________________

Amity Park, the Fenton Familie's House. Jazz was there by coincidence, more or less. It was the end of her first Semester, so for her vacation she decided that a family visit would be the best way to kill time. Less because of her parents than for her brother Danny. What wasn't a coincidence however, was the fact, that her parents had to run off for an "urgent task" only a few minutes after Danny sneaked off to fight one of the many ghosts that decided to plague the town today. Almost as if the ghosts could smell it, vacation and holiday time was the ghosts favorite time to be a pest.

Not in the mood for this stress, Jazz decided to stay home. By now she knew that Danny was capable enough of handling these things himself, and if he needed help, he would find a way to contact her. Their parents, even though they knew about his not-so-secret anymore identity, still worried for their son and always followed close too...even though they might not be the biggest help possible. But it's the thought that counts, right? So she was sitting on the living rooms couch, reading one of the few books from the old dusty shelves, when she heard a loud bang coming from the basement. Her mood told her to ignore it and deal with it later. Instinct and experience however, urged her to get up and check out what was going on. Sneaking off to the kitchen, she grabbed a spare Fenton Thermos Can that her parents "hid" right next to the microwave, only to take a deep breath and make her way down to the origin of the noise.

Jazz wasn't sure what exactly she was expecting. A ghost causing havoc? A burglar? Equipment randomly deciding to blow up due to faulty wireing? What she wasn't expecting however, was a girl (or woman? hard to tell in this situation) laying on the floor against the wall, blood running over her neck down to her shoulders. Without a second thought, Jazz put away the Thermos, grabbed the nearest first-aid-kit and ran over to help.

Or well. She tried. The moment her hands got close to the girl, it started to faze in and out - though it looked more like...glitching? That is probably the best way Jazz would describe it. Unsure what to do, Jazz called for drastic measures and pulled out her phone, punching in her moms number, in hopes to get her to pick up on the first try.

______________________________________________________________

Pushing the button was a last resort. Reyka wanted nothing more than to get away from her crazy family, obsessed with the supernatural. All the experiments done on her for "the greater good", leaving her without food for days, using her blood in hopes to summon a deity...all of that and more. It was just too much. When her oldest Cousin suddenly forbid her from entering the attic, she knew something was off, even more than her whole life had been so far. Usually her family would beg her to go into the attic, to pray and to offer, to study the occult and find even a glimpse of proof. Why now, would they suddenly try to keep her from there? The attic was the only place she could be alone for a while. The place closest to all the weird stuff done to her, but ironically enough her only safe space in the house.

"...the portal..." "...green glow..." "...mystical..." "...scared." Those were only puzzle pieces of a conversation she listened in on. "Portal?" No. More importantly "scared" ? So far in her life Reyka has never heard of any family member being scared of anything. Not even back when they were sure of having summoned Chtulluh. That was a first. Just as much as it was a first for anyone keeping secrets and for Reyka to be curious about whatever her family was up to. If there truly was a portal, then that meant there was a chance for her to get away. She didn't spend a second to think about what might be behind the portal. It didn't matter. Any place must've been better than "home".

The only way for her to get into the attic was stealing the key from her oldest sister, pretend to go to the toilet at dinner and quietly make her way up. Dinner time was the only time she could be sure, that no one was guarding the attic, as it carried a lot of importance to her family, that everyone sat and ate together.

Step one, getting the key, was the hardest part...she thought. As it turned out, her sister really didn't believe in Reyka's intelligence a lot. Carelessly leaving the keys in the unlocked key safe by the main door, thinking that Reyka wouldn't be able to tell the difference between the house, bike, car and attic keys. By evening, she had easily aquired the keys to the attic without anyone noticing. So she put it in the pocket of her lavender blouse, hiding it behind a mint colored handkerchief she neatly put in there as well.

After about 10 minutes, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. Her family were monsters, but at least they didn't question her on having to go to the toilet. “5 minutes...”, she thought, “5 minutes is all I need, to be gone forever.” Slowly, quietly and carefully, she made her way up the stairs, careful not to trigger even the slightest creak. All those years living in this household taught her how to step on those stairs in the perfect way to avoid any extra noise.

“First flight done, another one to go.” It felt like forever. She counted the seconds, the minutes in her head. One steps, two steps, three steps-! Suddenly a shriek, Reyka stumbling down all three steps again. A rat ran past her, startling her far more than it should've. “Reyka?!” “Shit...”, a mumble.

Downstairs, she could hear someone get up while her name was called. And then steps. Slow. Then faster. Suddenly running up the first flight of stairs.

“Shit shit shit!”, now more an exclamation than a mumble. She fumbled the keys out of her pocket, dropping the handkerchief, running up the leftover stairs, struggling to get the door open. “Goddamn old rusty door! Open up, come on!” Turning her head for a split second, she saw her oldest brother dashing up the stairs as if his life depended on it. Behind him her father and her uncle. Just as she was ready to give up, the door clicked, flying open and exposing the attic. It looked so familiar...but also so different. Across the room, at the big window, the curtains were drawn and a ring of metal, softly glowing green, on two stilts were right in her line of sight. Next to the ring of metal, the portal as she assumed, was a little crafted pedestal with a bunch of open cables and electronics connected to the portal and more buttons than she felt was necessary.

“Reyka!” She bolted, running over to the pedestal. Shit. She was no engineer. No electrician. No expert. The only person that could possibly know how to work this was her uncle. As she stood there, her father, brother and uncle stopped in their tracks. “Easy there, honeybun”, almost a whisper from her uncle, “you don't know what you're doing there.” That sentence fired up so much rage in Reyka's chest. So much, that she felt the adrenaline rush through her whole body. “That's what you always say, right before you abuse me for your crazy believes! 'You don't know what you're doing' or 'it's for the sake of a better world' or stupid shit like that! Fuck you! Fuck you all!” She hovered her hand above a random button, and her uncle flinched. “Jackpot”, she whispered, a soft grin rushing over her face, “you've never been scared of using me for your experiments. But now that I'm in the mood for it, you don't want me to? You're a bunch of hypocrites. Always calling me the “chosen one”. What, just because I have grey eyes and the rest of the family doesn't? Ever heard of traits skipping generations? Or maybe, just maybe, HAH now wouldn't that be funny! Maybe Mom was such a whore, that she cheated?” Reyka's body was shaking. She didn't know if it was the adrenaline, fear, excitement or all of the above. Her hand twitched, inching closer to the button.

With a shaky breath she curled her fingers into a fist, ready to smash the button to pieces if she had to, to make it work, and screamed:”I hate you! I hate this family, I hate this world, I hate my life, I hate everything about existing! Guess what! It's a win-win! I push the button and everything blows up, I die and take you all with me, that's a win! I push the button, run through the portal and never see you again, that's also a win!”

“Reyka-”, her brother started, but got interrupted by her father.

“"If you push this button right now, no one knows what could happen!" Another laugh, this time out of desparation. "Anything, and I mean anything to be free from this rotten nightmare of a household!" Her fist flew downwards, hitting the button.