#Individualized Area Rugs

[linkedin-offficial]

The evolution of Skypeople and their prolific adaptability

open read more for the rest of the text ! warning, long post (sorry lol :'D)

during the early days of skypeople life in the realms of sky, skypeople were very weak and susceptible to the elements and dangers that the land, not being very suited for habitable life just yet, had brought to them. because of this, they had to begin adapting rapidly as they finally began to settle into their chosen homes and settlements.

for example, those like the well known avians; known for sparking the invention of caped flight and nurturing many of todays bird populations; were a derivative of early skypeople that had begun sprouting feathers, wings, tails, and birdlike legs to better help them in their chosen environments of the clouds and wind paths. meanwhile others, like miners, were large and rugged skypeople that were known for their amazing ability to go long periods of time without a reliable light source; they had adapted not entirely because of their chosen home, but because of their occupation.

this amazing rapid showcase of adaptability allowed for skypeople to flourish and thrive, the populations all across realms booming very quickly, and communities growing with every passing year.

soon however, because of the many technological advances made by the growing expanse of opportunity that was created, machines and great inventions powered by the most skilled of light magic users were becoming the norm. intensely laborious jobs and harsh trekking became a thing of the past.

then, to complete the cycle, due to such advances, skypeople began to de-evolve. because of the great new technology that had now been mastered, there was little need for much physical adaption. so, as time went on, skypeople began losing these unique features, and looking much like the skypeople you may know today as "spirits".

some skypeople did manage to maintain small aspects of their adaptable family genealogy, but this percentage was miniscule in number.

fig 1 . two skypeople of the early settlement age. the earliest of the skypeople were small, frail, and very fragile. early skypeople would easily be mistaken for skychildren in todays age, no matter how old the individual.

fig 2 . two skypeople at the peak of evolution; an avian and a miner. due to the rapid evolution of skypeople, there was barely any inbetween period between the early age and the peak evolution age. diversity was abundant, and it was easy to find individual skypeople built for almost any job. avians, who excelled at flight; miners, who dominated the tough jobs in dangerous areas; and divers, who took to the open seas with ease; just to name a small handful.

fig 3 . after the slow decline of evolution due to technological advances, skypeople began to become even more diverse in nature. it became hard to tell just exactly the lineage of any individual simply by gazing at their features. because of this, masks, capes, and clothing depicting creatures, occupation, or status became incredibly popular. to dress extravagantly and display your lineage namesake was considered normal.

fig 4 . mostly all of the latest skypeople come from this age, all those we now know as "spirits". this age was not as extravagant as the detransition age, but many of the cultures and things learned stuck strong throughout. in this age, it was hard to find any who bore the unique features of the peak evolution age, which only encouraged those who were persistent in maintaining their lineage's namesakes through generations.

[sataniquepanique]

Book Dragon

Summary: What I imagine is a common occurrence at camp with my Tav. She is a hoarder and frequently dumps inventory into the camp supplies and forgets which important objects she needs for quests. (This is dumb but I just needed to get it out of my head)

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (use of she/her)

Tags: fluff, established relationship.

The frantic crunching of gravel was the first indication that someone had arrived to their camp. Immediately upon hearing the rustling coming through the underbrush, Shadowheart rose from her kneeling meditation, hand braced on the dagger at her hip. From across the slowly-dimming fire pit, Lae’zel mirrored the cleric; double blades resting in her palms as her ochre eyes scanned the tree-line for the incoming threat.

The second indication came from the muffled voices beginning to carry through the forrest. There were at least two, neither of which were decipherable at this distance (Halsin’s snores emanating from his tent didn’t help the matter). 

The third indication was the sight of four familiar individuals bursting through the trees, the first two seemingly in a heated argument. Tav was strides ahead of Astarion, making a beeline to her tent next to Shadowheart. 

“All I’m saying is that—“

“—I know I have it somewhere, Astarion!” She threw open the tent flap and slammed both knees onto the shabby rug that lined the floor. Dumping out bag after bag of books, random stones, empty potion bottles, and a few stolen pieces of jewelry, she began to frantically tear through the contents in search of something. 

“Darling,” Astarion leaned against the frame of her tent, voice tense with the clear restraint he was exerting, “I’m sure if you had it, it would be in your pack. Maybe, if you didn’t hoard tomes and scrolls like some sort of…book dragon,” he flourished a hand for emphasis, “then you’d be able to keep track of your belongings more easily.”

“Maybe, if you helped me look and stopped running your pointy mouth for a moment, we’d be able to find it faster.”

Astarion’s face was expressionless and unreadable as he stared at her digging through a large chest, “Oh darling, please don’t be mean to me,” he drawled sarcastically, “you know how it turns me on.”

Tav’s head whipped around, eyes blazing as she stared at her lover (the thought of which still confused the rest of the party). She continued her ravenous search through the tent, tossing weapons and pillows all over the small area rugs as the other party members watched on, half in confusion and the other in exasperation. 

“What’s going on?” Shadowheart glanced uncertainly over at the scouting party, hand finally leaving the hilt of her dagger. 

Karlach shrugged, swaying to an imaginary beat that seemingly played on a constant loop in her head, “Tav needs a book—“

“—More like Tav trekked us through the wilderness for hours to find the Mystic’s tomb, only to double back through treacherous territory just to look for a bloody book, that she may or may not even have, based on a hunch!” Astarion threw out his hands in exclamation, dirt and blood shimmering along his face in the firelight. 

“—She needs the journal we found a few days ago in the temple. We think it may have the key to figuring out where the Mystic’s amulet is. If we get the amulet, we can end him for good,” Gale added valiantly. 

“You two think it’s the key,” Astarion drawled, motioning between the wizard and Tav, “I for one think we can just—“

“AH-HA!” Tav leapt up with a yell, holding a decrepit leather book in her upheld hand. “I knew I had picked it up, I guess I had stashed it in the communal trunk to make more room in my pack.”

Astarion rolled his garnet eyes, “Please enlighten us all on the vast wisdom scrawled haphazardly by this half-dead freak.”

Tav’s eyes sparkled in challenge as she held out the ancient book to him. 

“What do you want me to do with it?” He scoffed, eyes darting between her and the yellowed pages. 

Tav smiled sweetly, a terrifying gesture that caused Karlach to cringe slightly from a few feet away, “I just figured that if this was written by some ‘half-dead freak’, then it could only be deciphered by another ‘half-dead freak”.”

Astarion blinked in surprise, his aloof mask slipping momentarily by her remark. He narrowed his eyes as she smirked and clutched the book to her chest. 

“I think we should take the night to re-group and rest before setting out again tomorrow at first light. I’ll comb through the journal tonight and see what I can find,” She nodded confidently. 

Gale stepped closer to her side, “If you’d like company, I’d love to assist.”

Astarion stiffened, ceasing his casual leaning to stand upright. Before he could get a word out, Tav gave a soft smile and shook her head.

“I appreciate the offer Gale, but I’ll be able to focus better if I’m alone. Once I figure anything out I’ll let you know though.”

Astarion loosed a breath, watching as the wizard nodded and strode off to his own tent, hiding his defeat behind a cool mask. As the rest of the camp began to disperse, Astarion lingered at Tav’s tent, feigning interest in a loose thread hanging from his sleeve. 

“Goodnight, Star,” she shuffled in the dirt towards her bedroll, the events of the day finally catching up with her. Limbs feeling like a million pounds and eyelids full of sand, she reached to push the tent flap aside when she felt a cold grip on her other wrist. 

Astarion pulled her gently backwards, “Where are you going?” His voice was soft and filled with a lingering apprehension that tugged at Tav’s heartstrings. 

“To my tent? I have to dig through this book before we leave tomorrow…” 

Astarion noticed how bloodshot her eyes were; she was exhausted. 

“Let me,” he gingerly pried the book from her fingers. Tav looked at him in confusion.

“I’ll read through it tonight, you should sleep.”

“Star, you don’t have to,” she shook her head, “Let yourself rest—”

“Darling,” Astarion brought a hand up to cradle her cheek, “It’s not up for debate.”

Tav turned and kissed his palm. Breaking into a slow smile, Astarion tucked her into his side and began to lead over towards his tent. 

“Does this mean you’re not actually mad at me about dragging you back here prematurely?” She smirked.

Astarion scoffed. “Oh love, I’m incredibly annoyed,” he squeezed her tighter, “but unfortunately, I’m also quite fond of you and will follow anywhere you ask.” 

[hankoptimistic]

Lilis Palace, quite literally

Hello everyone, I have been working on this Hungarian-inspired mansion for quite a while now, and although I have taken many liberties (especially the back area with the pool) I think it looks Hungarian enough, especially thanks to the amazing cc from @lilis-palace,

this mansion is BG + free packs only (romantic garden, holiday pack, backyard pack)

cc info -

@lilis-palace - all cc used here is from lilis-palace (excluding any of her recolours) her downloads page is here (please also make sure to download her tiles set as well)

when I say everything is from Lilies Palace, I do mean it, so it is best you download everything if you want to use this build

@thejim07 - statues and busts and pedestals from thejim07 that I have merged into singular files so that you don't have to download individual items-

statues / busts / pedestals / dinnerware set / painting (an allegory for autumn and spring) / vase 1 / vase 2

@strangestorytellersims - and some rugs and chandeliers from SSTS - chandelier, rugs

there is a completely empty room which you can repurpose to your needs (deffo empty because I wasn't lazy and this is deffo the reason)

Download in the gallery - HANKIT2004 (view cc on) lot used - magnolia blossom in Willow Creek

more screenshots under the cut -

Interiors~

thank you~

[yunyunrin]

Chapter One : Holy Fool

genre : horror, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, enemies to lovers, alternate universe, slow burn

pairing : angel!reader (gn) x kingofhell!???, other side pairing

chapter warnings : arguing, crying, flashbacks(?), mentions of drunk men, assertion of dominance, light cursing, mention of insecurity, pushing stuff under the rug, religious themes

wc : around 6.4k words

A/N : here we go! i know this has been long awaited so i hope you all enjoy! as always feel free to leave feedback and suggestions but be nice! :D also would recommend reading the prologue to understand this chapter a bit better!

MDNI

holy fool masterlist | prologue | next

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep, but you wake to two voices conversing in a whisper around you. One sounds like that of a male and the other of a female, you don’t open your eyes right away to not alert the two others in the room with you.

You don’t know who they are and why you are there with them. The last thing you remember is being in a car that was sinking in the ocean, there is no way that you were saved that night. But you don’t feel dead? The topic of conversation between the two other individuals catches your attention, you weren’t paying them much mind, but now you seemed to be their topic.

“This,” a male voice said, “wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Well, it did happen.” The female said, walking towards the area that you were laying in. “They’re awake. Can’t you feel their uneasiness?”

You’re suddenly jolted up from your fetal position, now stuck in the air with the eyes of the people who were talking about you moments before. You can no longer hide in the comfort of sleep and the attention is overwhelming you. Closing your eyes is what you manage to do in a try to comfort yourself because you cannot move any other part of your body.

“Open your eyes now. Do not make me angry.” The male hissed.

“Angel Zen, you’re scaring them. Don’t show so much animosity to someone you have just met.” The younger woman takes a couple of steps backwards so she could see your face better, “I think they are pretty.” Her words fluster you instantly, not used to having someone compliment you. A sound you would describe closely to a mixture of a groan and a grunt vibrate the room, leading you both to look towards the older male angel.

“Do you understand what is going on?” The man asks while pointing at you while looking you up and down simultaneously, with a look of disgust painting his features.

“No, sir,” you reply. He clicks his tongue at you and looks elsewhere around the room. “Can you please let me down? I promise I won’t run.” He chuckles and puts his face in his hand while sighing at your question, leaving you with a puzzled look on your face.

“Angel, you cannot leave if you tried. I know this will likely worry you, but please let Angel Zen and I explain. More so me because Angel Zen can not manage his anger currently.” She says to you, although her words leave you with anxiety, you know she won’t be the one causing you harm.

“Angel. Pfft.”

You aren’t sure why he is so angry. He certainly knows more than me? Right? You don't understand why they are here. You were so sure you were dead, but did you just happen to be saved by people in a cult? Why is everyone being referred to as Angel? Your thoughts begin to consume you, but a step towards you brings you back to this reality you’re in.

“Angel, I can hear your thoughts,” your eyes open in surprise. There is no way that Angel Zen will ever like you now. “Only I can, Angel. Not him, although you are likely correct in your assumption. But what you’re saying in your mind is not the cause, he has decided that was what he wanted to feel before you woke up.” Angel Zen looks at you both, then locking eyes with the nicer Angel, obviously asking about what was going on inside your mind. “No, I’m not telling you what they were thinking. It wasn’t for you to know.” She says while looking at you, gently smiling as though to ease your nerves.

“Please tell me what is going on,” you meant for your voice to come out louder than it did, but you only managed to conjure a whisper.

“Oh right. I completely forgot to tell you, you must be questioning everything right now.” She says with a worried look on her face, almost afraid of what will happen once the truth leaves her lips, you look up at her with pleading eyes as she hesitates. She sighs out and looks at your face, but not directly into your eyes, “You’re now an Angel.”

—

You wake up with a presence beside you, feeling a dip at the end of your bed where your feet lay. You hesitate to open your eyes, not wanting to face the rude Angel, or whatever he was. You still find it difficult to believe that an Angel can be that mean.

“He isn’t here anymore, just me. Now open your eyes Angel,” she chuckles, standing up from where she was just seated. You open your eyes, moving into a sitting position still on your bed.

“I never got your name?” You said to the Angel in front of you. You knew the other male was Zen. Angel Zen, but the lady never told you what she wanted to be called. You aren’t sure why you have the need to have to be close with her, but you think that if she was to be cross with you right now, that you’d break down. You are just now realizing how fragile you feel at this moment.

“My name is Poppy, Angel Poppy. We are bonded. That is why you have an intense need to be close with me.” Poppy tells you like it is the most normal thing to say to someone. You both awkwardly stare at each other, not knowing what to say next.

“Pop- Angel Poppy,” you move to sit at the edge of your bed to look at her more clearly. She has tan skin, golden eyes, blonde hair, and she looks around five foot six. She also smells distinctly of lemons with sugar. You aren’t really sure how you didn’t notice it before, the smell so potent that it fills up the room easily.

“I don’t mind if you call me Poppy, but if we are in front of another Angel, I would advise you to add Angel in front of it. It is a respect thing, we only call other Angels by just our name with other Angels we trust. Moreover, every Angel has a significant smell attached to them, all good smells, though. You smell like cherry blossoms.”

“What happened to me Poppy?” You could no longer keep your curiosity at bay, and you deserve a right to know what has happened. Are you dead? Why are you surrounded by Angels? Are you in Heaven? Surely, you would've gone to Hell after death right? You were never religious?

“To answer your questions,” Poppy sits beside you before continuing, “You died, but you aren’t dead. Well, you are, you’re surrounded by Angels because you’re in Heaven, a part of it. But you weren’t sent to Heaven. Well, you were but not in the sense you would assume. And you’re right, due to your lack of belief in God, you probably should be in Hell right now.” Poppy’s response leaves you more confused than before, all of her responses seemingly contradicting each other every time she spoke.

She sits up, and straightens her skirt out with her hands. She looks at you again, you forgot that she can hear your thoughts, being reminded once you saw the worried look on her face. “Allow me to clarify, my apologies. You are an Angel now. Your Guardian Angel had you consume their blood in the process of you dying. That’s why you aren’t dead, but you died. Basically, you’re a born again Angel. You aren’t in the part of Heaven where believers go after they pass away, but where every Guardian Angel and Guardian Angel in training reside. Your Guardian Angel from your human life is the reason you are here and not in Hell.”

“I still have some questions if you don’t mind, Poppy.” You look at her, waiting for her approval for you to ask your questions. She nods, prompting you to go ahead. “I’m a Guardian Angel, how can I be if I’m not religious? How come you can hear my thoughts, but I cannot hear yours? Where is my Guardian Angel? I don’t remember consuming anything besides water before I died?”

“Well, you’re not a Guardian Angel yet. But you will go through the training. Before you can be a Guardian Angel, you must believe in God. Every pious Angel must put God above everything. You will worship him and believe, it is a non-negotiable.” Poppy firmly says. You had forgotten that she is an Angel before your friend, if you could even call it that, feeling slightly less comfortable than you were before. “I can hear your thoughts because we are bonded. You could also hear my thoughts if I was not blocking them from you, which I will teach you to do. Everyone needs their privacy, even Angels. But, only Angels who are bonded can hear each other’s thoughts. So don’t worry about your thoughts around anyone else. Just remember that I can always hear them, until you learn how to block the thoughts you want to keep to yourself from me. As for your Guardian Angel, no one knows where she is. No one has seen her, she dropped you off in Angel Zen’s office and then vanished. Even he does not know where she is.” Poppy stops for a brief moment to take a deep breath before continuing, “as for you consuming your Guardian Angel’s blood, since you were drowning, she likely cut her finger and put in your mouth. Her blood likely entered you during that moment, as the water was consuming you.”

Tears brim your eyes. All you wanted was to die, but you got the opposite. All you wanted was to hug your best friend, Dina. “Is she around? Dina?” Poppy refuses to look at you, and you just let out all your tears that you have been holding in, you aren’t sure how you’re going to do this. Whatever your new life entails, you know you are not strong enough to do it. Poppy embraces you and for a while, you cry into her arms. She is all you have at this moment, and maybe for the rest of time.

“There is a lot we have to do to start this process, and it won’t be easy, but I will be here with you every step of the way. I will never let anyone hurt you, it wouldn’t be fair. Get some rest tonight, and I will tell you everything tomorrow. You’ve consumed a lot of information tonight, dwelling on it right now won’t help,” Poppy reassures you. Poppy lets you out of her embrace, helping you to lay down on your bed. “I will see you tomorrow, Angel.” Poppy disappears from the room, leaving you alone. Sleep consumes you quickly, not previously realizing how tired you were. Although your anxiety battles your exhaustion, in the end your exhaustion wins.

—

You wake up to the sound of orchestra music playing, leaving you groggy and confused. A couple of minutes of listening to the music playing throughout where you are staying, and a familiar face appears in your room. “Hi Poppy,” you get out of bed and wave to the Angel. “Thank you for coming to see me, but you should knock next time. What if I was doing something indecent?” You playfully questioned to her, trying to be cheery despite the annoyance of being wakened up abruptly.

“It is not possible for you to be doing something indecent, you are in Heaven, Angel.” Poppy exclaimed, having missed the playful lilt to your question.

“I know Poppy, I was joking! But what if I was changing? Would that not be considered immodest?” You questioned the Angel genuinely, not knowing how Angels really work yet.

“I see now, being without dressing would only be immodest if you were outside of Heaven. Even if you were outside of Heaven, it’d only be immodest if you were in a state of undress in front of non Angels. Otherwise, in Heaven, being in a state of undress is not considered the same. Nothing impure can be thought here.” Poppy exclaims, while handing fabric to you.

“The orchestra music plays every morning and every night to make sure everyone knows to start getting ready. Angels have a very specific routine, but it is something you will get used to with time. After the orchestra is done, the Angels go to pray in the main room.”

You look at the fabric in your hand and then look back up at Poppy, “Do I have to go?” You mumbled, not really thrilled with having to pray after being woken up in a way you were not used to.

“No, there is a lot I must tell you and what we must get done. The music plays for a couple of hours until the Angels must go to pray, but you will stay here while I go. Don’t worry. Although, I would like to ask you to start reading the Bible today. You can’t think of God with anything apart from love, so please, don’t act so uneasy about having to worship him.”

“Poppy, you have to realize I’m not like you, I wasn’t meant to be an Angel. Angel Zen was right. I don’t even fully understand what this entails,” you replied, “why can’t I just be sent to Hell?” you scoffed out the last words to exit your mouth, forgetting that Poppy was in front of you.

“Don’t speak like that. I will be patient with you, but please respect me and my beliefs. You will grow to hold them too, you will grow to be pious like me. I promised Angel Zen.” Poppy scolded you, causing a pout to form on your lips. “Now, there is a lot we must do,”

—

“So basically, there is no Angel who knows of your existence right now. Besides Angel Zen and I. It must stay that way, no one can know.” Poppy moves to face you, looking at your new look. Apparently when you had been turned into an Angel, not everything changed that was supposed to. All Angels had to have golden eyes and golden blonde hair, although the shades could vary for the hair. You and Poppy had been going back and forth before deciding on the shade of blonde that you both thought complimented your skin tone and features well. “Heaven to Angel… Hello?????” Poppy quietly shouts at you to gain your attention.

“Sorry, got distracted. What was that?” You replied to Poppy, feeling bad due to your inability to focus. You had always had trouble with focusing with people speaking with you, a coping mechanism you developed due to the harsh words from your father and others growing up.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. You don’t have to hurt anymore, I’m here for you. Now, as for what I was saying. You need to choose a new name, no one can know of your Earthly name,” Poppy replied. You aren’t quite sure what to think if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you were never called anything besides your name or nicknames that weren’t derived from your name.

“Poppy, didn’t you say my scent was cherry blossoms?” you questioned Poppy, your memories from the first night still being a bit clouded. She shakes her head yes, inhaling to smell your scent more thoroughly. “Then, I think my name should be Blossom?” you question her again, not knowing if that name was good or even fit you in the slightest.

A huge grin plasters Poppy’s face, “Angel Blossom…. Hmmm… I love it,” she responds back, almost singing. She begins to frolic around the room, she is definitely much more excited than you are over this name.

“Angel Blossom, there are a couple of important things I must go over with you. The most important things, in due time you will learn the rest.” You nod at Poppy, letting her know that she has your undivided attention. “So… Firstly, all Angels shower at least once a day, usually before they go out for their shifts with the humans. Showering with any kinds of scents is prohibited, so is brushing your teeth with any kind of flavoring, and although you don’t need to use deodorant, if you choose to do so, it must be unscented.”

“Why?” you question Poppy, not really understanding why that was such an significant rule.

“Because, any of that can interfere with your scent as an Angel. Your scent is essential to identifying who you are around, and once you start working with humans, they can smell your scent too. Not as well as other Angels or non-human creatures, but it would be confusing for everyone. Plus, a lot of the Angel’s scents are the usual ones for soaps and stuff, so it is just easier for everything to be unscented. So, when you go back to Earth, don’t try to sneak anything back.” Poppy stated to you with a smile which contracted from the serious tone of her voice.

“Anything else I should know, Poppy?” you inquired. The rules so far you thought had been a bit… You can’t particularly find the right word. Weird maybe?

“I’m not going to acknowledge that thought… but I will be teaching you how to hide your thoughts after this. But the main thing for Angels is no cursing, no sexual relations, show grace to everyone you run into, staying clean, and praying. Although praying is most important. Every Angel must pray a minimum of two hours a day. Once before your assignment after you have washed your body and once after your assignment after you have showered and washed your hair. You have to pray more once on an assignment, but don’t worry about that now because that will be a while,” Poppy explained to you.

You must have been talking about the inner workings of how to be an Angel for hours by this point. Poppy had been to prayer and back. Overwhelmed isn’t enough to explain how you feel, you don’t know what happens if you fuck up. “Mess up, Angel Blossom. You don’t know what will happen if you mess up. Don’t worry if you do, I’ll be the only one who knows unless it is so terrible that I have to alert a higher up, but I won’t do that unless completely necessary,” Poppy replied in response to your thought.

“To protect your thoughts from me hearing them, you imagine yourself in a circle of light. Kind of like being trapped in a bubble of light while you think your thought. It gets pretty easy to do once you get the hang of it. Try it.” Poppy shoos you to the mirror in the room, seeing the reflection of your new look and Poppy behind you smiling, hopefully. So you try.

You close your eyes and envision yourself being engulfed by light, almost like God himself was purifying you before you entered the realm of your mind where your thoughts lingered. Your whole body is now in a bubble of light, so this must be it. ‘Poppy, do you ever wish you weren’t an Angel? I would rather not be an Angel, I wanted to be dead,’ you open your eyes and still see Poppy in the reflection of the mirror with you, her face still plastered with the same smile from before. It worked, she couldn’t hear your thoughts.

“Now Blossom, please don’t abuse it. If your thoughts become unkind in any way, please come to me and we will get through it together. Okay?” You nodded in response to her. You can learn to be as pious as Poppy, if that is what helps you get through the predicament that you find yourself in.

“Blossom, I will have to go on an assignment soon,” Poppy pauses and looks around, “and between me and you, I think this person will likely be your first assignment when you’re ready.” Poppy whispers the second part of her statement, you assumed you likely weren’t supposed to know that yet, which earns a nod from Poppy. Being able to read each other’s thoughts likely won’t be the worst thing in the world.

“May I ask you a question before you leave?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“Have they found my body yet?”

“No, I think they actually are tonight.”

You look at Poppy and softly grin, ‘can you please take me with you? I’ll do whatever, can I see myself one last time? My old self.’ Poppy turns away to in front, her mouth slightly agape. She turns back towards you, putting her finger to her mouth in an usher to stay quiet, even though you know she will tell you with her thoughts anyway. ‘Yes, but you have to do as I say. You have to be quiet, okay? You can go anywhere with me so we aren’t breaking any rules, but I don’t want anyone telling me it is too soon because then I cannot take you.’ You perk up instantly, going to freshen up. Your excitement causes Poppy to giggle, who then follows you promptly to freshen up as well before her assignment. Your future assignment.

—

You and Poppy are sitting on the railings on the edge of the peer, there is a gigantic boat which holds a crane. The men on the boat are talking among each other, likely figuring out where exactly the car sits on the ocean floor. Poppy moves to hold your hand, the vibe surrounding you both becoming a solemn one. Flashbacks of your past life flood the forefront of your mind, which causes you to look focus at the scene right in front of you. It isn’t really that big of a deal, no movement has come from the crane. You’re grateful that Poppy taught you how to hide your thoughts, you aren’t sure what Poppy knew of your human life, but if she didn’t know, you didn’t want her to find out.

The sound of the crane moving makes you come back to reality. It positions itself before falling into the water. The process of the attachment of the crane entering the water and for the car itself to emerge from the ocean takes a bit longer than you thought you would. Once the car is safely placed upon the boat, a man goes to look inside. “There are human remains,” The main yells in a monotonous voice. The tears fall from your eyes before you can stop them, your body falling into Poppy as you sob. You aren’t sure why it is affecting you so much, you knew you were dead. You wanted to die. Poppy holds you until you calm down, comforting you with kind words while playing with your hair.

“I needed you when I was alive,” you choke out to Poppy. Maybe life would’ve been manageable with you as my Guardian Angel. You don’t bother to hide your thought, it’s the truth. You wished you had someone by your side when you were alive, but what it is already done. ‘Angel, you have a second chance and with me by your side forever now. Please don’t cry, you will always be at peace when I am with you,’ Poppy nudges your head into the crook of her neck and sways you for a few more minutes. You have completely calmed down now.

“We need to go check on my assignment now, are you ready?” you nod in response to her question and before too long you are in the room of the young child who lays there twiddling their thumbs looking at the ceiling. ‘Can they see us Poppy?’ you ask and Poppy shakes her heard. ‘Only when we have out our wings,’ she replies. You watch the child for a couple of hours until they fall asleep.

“I have to stay here until the morning, Blossom,” Poppy whispers while motioning at the child.

“What can I do?” you ask, now twiddling your thumbs like the child was earlier.

Poppy moves to sit by the child, her head resting on the side of the bed where the child was sleeping.

“There is a park out in the front, with some benches. Keep a look-out for if a man comes stumbling, if you do, please let me know. Otherwise, just sit and relax,” Poppy answered. You move to leave, being able to teleport is something that you quite enjoy now that you are an Angel.

“Before you go, don’t talk to any Demons. Isn’t worth the risk. All of them have horns of some sort and a long tail. They are required to show at least one when they are on Earth. Remember, they have really telling scents, something you would likely consider masculine. Call me if you sense any danger, no matter how small it seems.” Poppy muttered to you, like your voices would somehow wake up the child.

—

The park is not too far away from the building. As soon as you got to the bench, you hid in your thoughts. You’re able to do it while your eyes are open now, which makes you happy. You have hours to think to yourself about whatever you want, void of responsibilities apart from making sure you tell Poppy of a stumbling man, likely drunk, entering the building.

“Penny for your thoughts, Angel?” the voice of the man startles you, not noticing him walk up to you.

“You can see me?” You ask the man, while taking in his features. His jawline is sharp, his eyes are a dark brown, and dark brown hair adorns his face. He smells like cinnamon, which instantly takes you back to the coffee shops you and Dina had visited to when you could.

“Yes I can see you, Angel. What are you doing out here this late at night? Assignment?” He asks, his voice almost lulling you into more comfort than you likely should have been feeling. His voice was higher pitched, but charming indeed.

“Something like that, what are you doing out here?” you ask back, wondering why a sober man is walking around this late at night.

“Looking for the love of my life,” his response catches you off guard, you look at him with shock in your eyes, which causes him to laugh.

“I wish you the best of luck,” you look in front of you as to not mess up the one thing you were told to do. You were oblivious to the smirk he had worn across his face.

“What’s your name?” the man next to you trying to make conversation with you.

“Any guesses?” you say in response, the man now biting his lip. How come you couldn’t have come across him when you were alive? You quickly dismissed the thought, as you knew nothing would ever come of it anyway.

“Cherry,” he answers. You shake your head no in response, the man now dramatically pouting due to his incorrect answer.

“You were close. It is Blossom, why did you guess Cherry?” you ask before remembering that, you do, in fact, smell strongly of cherry blossoms. You facepalm at your stupidity at that moment.

“I see you realized the answer to your question, Cherry. But I think I’ll still call you Cherry, though. My little cherry blossom.” The pet name quickly brings a redness to your cheeks, looking away so he doesn’t see. And it works, he says nothing about it. If he did notice, he gave you the luxury of not having to deal with teasing.

“What is your name? Something cinnamon related?” you tease. The man beside you looks at you a bit confused, like maybe you should have known his name. Did he tell you already? Wow! you really are stupid today. He doesn’t say anything but shakes his head and chuckles. You nod in response, knowing you’ll probably think of the interaction for a while after this.

“An Angel typically already knows my name Cherry,” the brown-eyed man responds. If you’re being honest, you have no idea who this man is. He seems to think he is important?

“I’m sorry,” is all you manage to say in response. You both are now quiet, he hasn’t left, still very much there when you look through your peripheral vision. You are trying to be subtle with your glances, not even turning to him. He, on the other hand, is looking right at you, studying you. He keeps a studious expression on his face until he notices you sneaking glances, when he sees you looking he smirks at you, causing a red tint to appear on your face every time.

‘Blossom, is that man next to you talking to you?’

‘He was, but we are not talking anymore,’

As soon as the thought was over Poppy appeared in front of you and the man. She stood firm and confident, but her hand was trembling at the sight of you and the man on the bench. Her mouth is parted, but no words are coming out, only getting the courage to speak once she shows her wings to you both.

‘What did I tell you to do before you came out here Blossom,’

‘To watch for a stumbling man enter the building, I promise he didn’t come’

‘You did that part right, that isn’t the problem’

“Stop speaking with your minds and speak with the mouth your God gave you, Angels,” his tone scolding the both of you. You suppose it was a bit rude, but you didn’t see why it was such a big deal.

“Angel Blossom, what did I tell you before you came out here besides watching for a man?”

“Not to talk to Demons and how to spot one?” you spoke barely above a whisper. The man beside you chuckles at the answer you give to the Angel who is raising her voice at you, but somehow softly.

“How do you spot a Demon?”

“Strong masculine scent, horns or a long tail, or both?” You aren’t sure why she is asking you this, the man beside you doesn’t have horns or a tail? Why is she so scared.

“What did I say the main sign of one was?”

“Scent.”

“What kind of scent?”

“Earthy and strong,”

“What does he smell like?”

“Cinnamon”

“Where does cinnamon come from?”

“A tree”

“Where do trees come from?”

“The Earth”

You still don’t quite understand the conversation. The man beside you has one of three of what Poppy told you. Poppy begins stomping towards you and grabs your arm, dragging you from the bench to stand next to her. “So why can you not notice once a Demon is next to you? Was his smell not enough to tell you? Was his evil aura not enough?” Poppy shouts. You haven’t heard her voice get that loud before, and you begin to cry, everything is too much for to you handle.

“And you, why are you not in your true form. You know as well as any other Demon that you have to show your horns or tail so why are you not!?” venom laces Poppy’s voice, and if did not know she was an Angel already, if you saw her at this very moment you would not put her as one. The anger that has permeated her voice since she has spoken tonight is not that of an Angel.

“Angel, The Kings of Hell don’t have to obey the rules of a lowly Demon.” He stands up, taking a couple of steps towards you both, which causes you and Poppy to take steps back. “And Angel, watch your tone when you’re speaking to a King. I may not be your God, but that doesn’t mean I’m not close to it. And be nicer to your little friend. She was being mean to you, wasn’t she Cherry? Dragging you like that.” He matches Poppy’s energy in his response, his eyes flickering a shade of red.

“You let him give you a nickname?” Poppy asked in a whisper, to which you nodded. Poppy looks towards the man again while holding your hand. “Sir—”

“King”

“You are not my King,”

“No I am not, but I am one. So refer to me as such when you are speaking to me,”

“K-king, I apologize for my outburst. I was only worried for Bl-Blossom. The Eight Kings of Hell don’t usually wander on Earth often. It is what we are taught, anyway. I simply thought that someone below you was not doing what they were supposed to do. Please do not fault me for not trusting a Demon. Please,” Poppy trembles as she responds to the male, her grip on your hand was now strong enough to break the bones that find themselves under her grasp.

“You want the forgiveness of one of the Kings of Hell?” his voice is more gruff now than it was when he first spoke to you, which causes chills to run through your body as he speaks.

“Yes, if that will keep us safe from your wrath.”

“Luckily for you, I am not the ruler of wrath,” he walks closer to Poppy and gets in her face, only inches away. “Beg.”

“Beg?”

“Beg for my forgiveness if you want it so bad, tell me what you want. I’m known for being a bit nicer than the others. If you don’t, I can always call them, no? Eight Kings of Hell who can figure out what to do with two scared Angels. Your call, Angel” he enunciates every syllable of Angel clearly, as to mock Poppy.

Poppy is the most devout Angel you know. She loves God. Albeit she is the only Angel you know, you can almost for sure say she is the most pious. You look at the Demon and he’s smirking. He is having fun scaring you both.

You don’t expect Poppy to beg, you are for one wondering why you haven’t teleported out of there. But sure enough, Poppy falls to the ground. She lands on her knees in front of the male, having now let go of your hand.

“Please forgive my outburst. Don’t take unkindly to Angel Blossom, they didn’t do anything. If you must do something, take it out on me. Please don’t hurt us. I won’t say anything I promise, please believe me,” Poppy sobbed on her knees in front of the man who now looks at her from where he is standing.

“Why can’t an Angel not spot a Demon? Why can’t they feel my aura? Angels do not come within ten feet of me whether I am in my form or not. Why did my little Cherry Blossom not know who I was? I know they tell you all about the Kings of Hell,” he asks, crouching down to Poppy’s eye level before she responds to him.

“They are not an experienced Guardian Angel, t-they were an Angel who stayed in Heaven to help out with the others who have passed on. An Angel for the non-living so to say, not the living. They have never encountered a Demon before, and there was never any need for them to do so. Please excuse their ignorance,” Poppy manages to choke out. You can tell she is scared out of her mind.

“Don’t worry, I never intended to hurt you or Cherry. I never would’ve called on the other Kings,” he whips his head over to you, “and before you ask why I have graced you from punishment of speaking ill to a King, ask Cherry why. All you have to do is think” the man vanishes as quick as he appeared to you earlier that night, once he is gone, you fall next to Poppy.

“I didn’t know Poppy, I promise I didn’t know. I apologize for my language in advance, but I’ve only been doing this Angel shit for two fucking days. I was just being nice, he was being nice to me. I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Blossom, I’m not mad at you. You and I, we are going to go back up with the child, and we are not going to speak of this ever again. Do not ever speak about me falling to my knees begging to a King of Hell for our lives, don’t ever speak about talking to him, don’t talk about him, don’t think about him, don’t ask me why I did what I did. When we get back to Heaven, we’ll share a room because it wouldn’t be wise for either of us to be alone anymore, and we’ll forget this ever happened,”

“But what about—”

“No buts, listen to me. Do not even ask me through our thoughts. Just forget about it and it will be as if it had never happened. For me, please. And you’re never leaving Heaven again until you fully believe in God, unless another higher - up Angel commands it. That’s final.”

You both nod in understanding before going back up to watch the child that you both were supposed to be watching. You both went into action of not acknowledging what just happened, so much so that you never noticed that King anymore on your trip to Earth.

You didn’t notice when he watched you go back to the child, and you didn’t notice when he watched you transport yourselves back to Heaven. Who cares that the last thing he said to you was not a suggestion, but a warning as to what was to come? Surely, it won’t matter when you forget it ever happened, right?

A/N 2 : so which king of hell do you think appeared 👀 let me know in the comments or in an ask, i’m curious as to who y’all think of when you read! and dont worry, y’all will find out who it was in chapter two 🙏

tags

@multifictionx @pre1ttyies @hecateslittlewitchling @adorawritesalot @unlikelysublimekryptonite @loumin908 @kirbrary @sunasmoke22 @ylak

[ck-sims]

Hunter's Glen Modular Arena

This hunter-jumper course was built in collaboration with @pixelpony-ccfinds. They asked me if I was willing to build a course to showcase their new Hunter-over-Fences set, and, as ever, I was delighted to do so. Hunter's Glen is a 50x40 lot built in Henford-on-Bagley, but it could honestly be placed anywhere as the landscaping is pretty generic. I created two courses in order to properly showcase each jump. Each jump is fully functional, however, due to the layout of each course and spacing of the jumps, it might be tricky to actually use them during actual gameplay; this lot was built with posed screenshots in mind. Ringside, there is a posh little seating area with a fancy rustic bar for spectators to enjoy.

I would like to thank @walnuthillfarm and @equinista for answering my questions regarding hunter-jumper courses and helping me figure out how to lay out each course. Without them, I'm sure I'd still be trying to figure things out.

Modular arena, you say? What's a modular arena?

This is a system I've been using to build most of my arenas lately - I place down a room, adjust it to the size I want my arena to be, delete the ceiling, and replace the walls with fences. Since each course layout is an individual 'room', all I have to do to switch between them is click the room, delete it, and then swap the layout I want into the empty spot. This has allowed me to make multiple configurations of an arena on the same lot, without having to save each lot over and over again. As such, this download comes with tray files for the lot itself (with Course 1 pre-loaded), Course 1, Course 2, and an empty arena for you to DIY to your heart's content!

This lot is built with items from Basegame, Horse Ranch, and My Wedding Stories and possibly Jungle Adventures?.

All CC is included in the file, but can also be found here:

Hunter over Fences set by @pixelpony-ccfinds

Outdoor Arena Sand by @pure-winter-cc

BOTW plants by FakePikachu (can you find the Korok flower?)

Chateau Rug & Colonial Bar by @felixandresims

Wine & Flowers by @plumbobteasociety

Deco Wine Glasses by @imfromsixam

Ivy by @syboubou

Course layouts and jump previews are under the cut!

-- DOWNLOAD --

[seniorpollinationtechnician]

The ORION team stumbled across a previously undiscovered planet during a routine atmospheric probe. Their spacecraft, equipped with advanced long-range scanners, detected unusual energy signatures emanating from an uncharted region of space. Initially, the readings were faint and erratic but as they drew closer, the signals grew stronger and more distinct, piquing their curiosity. That next morning, before the debriefing, each team member meticulously prepared for the mission. Jorlan started by running diagnostics on all their devices. While waiting, he delved into the latest data collected from their recent missions and analyzed the raw data streams in order to compile the data into a series of comprehensive reports, complete with visualizations to make the information more accessible for the team. Zerath began his day long before anyone else with a demanding training session. Afterward, he reviewed the latest intelligence reports with Zyri. He considered various scenarios they might encounter, from ambushes to environmental hazards, and outlined responses for each. Meanwhile, Zyri tried to decipher the energy signatures to no avail. Velana spent the morning in the laboratory where she conducted final analyses on biological samples collected from their latest expedition. Each observation was carefully documented, contributing to the growing body of knowledge about the new life forms they encountered. Despite extensive records, there was nothing that could prepare them for what was to come. As each team member entered the briefing room, they were greeted by a large, central table surrounded by ergonomic chairs, each equipped with individual data screens. The room’s walls were adorned with interactive displays showing real-time data feeds, star charts, and mission objectives. The central holographic projector hummed to life, displaying a rotating 3D model of the planet they were orbiting. The planet's surface appeared rugged, a vast expanse of reddish-brown terrain marked by deep canyons. Dust storms swept across the surface, creating an 3D render of swirling particles. Velana stood at the center of the room, her eyes scanning the holographic display that projected a detailed topographical map. "Preliminary scans indicate a complex network of underground caverns," she began, "These caverns may harbor unique alien life forms adapted to the harsh, subterranean environment." Zyri tapped her datapad and outlined a few zones of interest. "There are also unusual energy signatures emanating from deep within the caverns. If we can decipher their source, it may open new avenues." Zerath stepped forward, his expression serious. "While the scientific prospects are promising, we must proceed with extreme caution. The unstable terrain and frequent dust storms pose significant risks. We don't know what kind of creatures might be lurking in those dark caverns and any misstep could be deadly. Stay alert and stick to the safety protocols." Jorlan stepped up and tried to surpress a smile as he tapped his handheld device to project schematics on the center console. "Before we go, I’ve got a new piece of equipment that I’ve been dying to field-test: a helmet. It isn’t just about protection; it’s equipped with an integrated augmented reality display, advanced environmental sensors, and a real-time communication system.” He carefully pulled out a few high-tech masks, placing them on the table with a sense of pride. The masks were impressive, designed with a sleek, modern aesthetic that spoke of advanced engineering. The main body of each mask was made of a lightweight, durable material with a matte black finish, giving them a streamlined, almost futuristic look. Across the front, a curved transparent panel covered the mouth area, allowing for clear visibility of the wearer's facial expressions while still providing protection. As the debriefing came to an end, the ORION team geared up and prepared to descend to the planet's surface.

[yuesya]

“A shipment to Arkos, you said?”

“Yup! Logistics wants this delivered before the end of the week.” The young lady types rapidly into the keypad fixed to the wall, and the doors slide open –revealing the warehouse to be stacked high with giant boxes of various medical supplies. Bagpipe cranes her head back, surveying the contents of the storage room. 

“… All of these?” 

“Mhm. It would’ve been included as part of the regular shipment last month, but the guys over in the Medical Department changed something about the new formula that they’re developing, so these got delayed,” the girl explains. “Sorry for the trouble, Ms. Bagpipe.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Arkos… it’s a familiar name, although Bagpipe has yet to go and pay a visit there in person. It seems that she’ll finally be getting the opportunity now.

Arkos is not quite a city, exactly. It’s more of a collective –a gathering of various disparate individuals; a hub of mercenaries and traders alike, in addition to a small regular population that calls Arkos home. The small settlement is located in one of the more treacherous parts of the rugged terrain between Leithanien and Ursus, making it an excellent resting stop for any travelers.

But on the flipside: Arkos is located on dangerous terrain, and one must wonder how anyone had even thought to establish a settlement there in the first place. In a way, it’s genius, but it’s also insanity. Because Arkos is not a mobile city; if a Catastrophe ever came their way, then…

Well. Bagpipe assumes that there must be some manner of precautionary measures set in place. She’s never known Doctor Kal’tsit to invest in a sinking ship, after all, and the agreements signed between Rhodes Island and Arkos would not have been possible in the first place if the Director had not truly seen something in it.

According to the rumors, the first homes in Arkos had been built by their elusive founder and leader herself. Weary travelers had been allowed a place to rest, and none were turned away on basis of race or occupation, gradually leading to a motley collection of individuals who gathered together in the area as time passed.

… And at the same time, there were also rumors that those who dared to cause trouble in Arkos with any ill intentions were all met with violent, bloody ends, without exception. Also courtesy of their great and powerful leader.

Bagpipe is curious as to what the leader of Arkos is really like. Kal’tsit is the only one in Rhodes Island who’s ever met them in person before, and she’s very tight-lipped on the subject, which only adds to the mystery of it all.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

15 - Fire for the King's Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 13.1k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, character death, descriptions of blood and gore, mention of child death, executions

Notes: Fun fact the very last scene of this chapter was the first ever scene I thought of for this entire series. Past Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The air at Castle Black felt suffocating. Men in black gathered all around the main court as you and Theon entered and there was not a single word spoken by any of them. A mixture of morose sadness and a nervous despair radiated throughout as more approached the scene. Theon let you climb off first, slowly holding onto the saddle as you barley turned to anyone with something inside of you screaming beyond what you’ve ever felt before.

Not just black was around, some in furs different then that, more wild and on their own that were neither Night’s Watch nor your fathers men. Looking around you, none seemed to dare say a word as Theon once more asked to see Jon Snow.

What did come forward first, a slowly moving figure of white on all fours. Moving quiet as some parted either way to give him a path. You recognized the pure white fur and red eyes, the size however was vast and larger then your tiny memory of him before. Ghost had grown close to the size of Grey Wind, but walked with silence and a slow intent towards you. Pausing in the middle of the clearing, the direwolf looked at you with a strange emotion that too made you feel off. Like Ghost was looking at you with an emotion you’ve only seen on a person, like he looked at you like one person.

The one who wasn’t there.

Stepping towards Ghost was when finally a very small group came towards you. All once more, cleared the way for them as they looked the most lost and devastated. You felt sick each passing second. The one leading was shorter, long dark hair laying straight across his back and a low crackling voice as he asked your name. The one behind him was large, quite large with wild orange hair and beard that was dressed none like them.

As you looked at them, you felt dizzy.

The Ice Cells were carved right into the base of the Wall and led to a dark underground that was lit only by the fires hung from the stone sides. Only a hall and solid metal doors, each room was individual and shut off from each other. The descent was steep and freezing, as the men walked a few paces behind you and Ghost slowly at your side.

The shorter one, Edd, motioned to the slightly open door as you walked slowly forward. Your face felt frozen in a heart stopping denial that begged to cry as you felt the cold rush through it. Edd had to almost inaudibly try and tell Ghost to just let you be, the direwolf watching you with strangely intense eyes before backing up, leaving the dark area of the cells to the only two people left in there.

Stepping inside the room, your blood ran as cold as the ice made of the walls around you. Your heart no longer beat inside your chest as you saw him there. Laid out flat and stiff as any you’d ever seen. Each step forward you felt that once screaming inside of you fade out into a pit of darkness that wanted to swallow you hole and never be seen again.

He was different then you last saw. Older, more rugged with hair longer and wilder then that day on the Kingsroad, and facial hair that was well groomed but coarse and thick. Dressed in black leathers with the laces of his shirt slightly opened. Just out on the ground he was. They found him this way, Edd told you. Ghost had come to them with a desperate aggression and first saw the blood seeped into the snow, and then followed him down to these very cells where he had been hidden away as if to pretend the crime never happened. His eyes had been shut, likely done by the men who found him in respect.

When you had come along with King Robert to see Lord Arryn, the Silent Sisters all around him, he was dressed up and anointed in their preparation. Stones with painted eyes had been placed on his shut ones and he looked to you more like a statue of a man, then the man himself. Robert had commented that if he didn’t know any better he’d have thought he was sleeping.

Jon Snow didn’t look like that. His skin was pale, and a tint of the faintest blue from the cold. The blood soaked into the leathers on his torso were thick and sticky. Across his face there were scars, one thin and faded down one eye and another that curve around the side of his face near the other that was red and painful looking. He didn’t look like a statue, he didn’t look asleep. He just looked like every corpse you’d seen and made in the Westlands.

Kneeling down onto the ground beside him, you felt your lungs so tight they couldn’t breathe as you shaking reached forward. Your finger shaking as they slowly undid the remaining laces and pulled to the side to reveal more of his chest, and there they were.

One low close to his stomach, and six scattered across the main area of his chest as they sat red and violent. Your fingers though, gently reached up to one curved across his heart, the second the jagged feeling touched your skin you felt yourself drop.

Dizzy and lightheaded at the same time as no breathe nor heartbeat nor thought and sound made it’s way through your head and body. You fell back, the iron bars that separated part of the room slammed into your back and head as you hit them. Your palms braced on the ground as you looked to him in a deathly shock.

There was no way of knowing how long you were there for, how long you looked at him and felt so twisted and dark inside that it felt like nothing else in you was left. You had parted ways all those years ago, not knowing if you’d ever see each other again but this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. This wasn’t supposed to be how you reunited with Jon. You and Theon weren’t supposed to be the only ones left.

Theon had risked everything to help you escape, put his life on the line for you just to bring you to Jon, to the one man who would protect you but it was too late. You could feel that last time, the way his large, gloved hands had cupped your cheeks with that bright grin and grey eyes of his as he joked, “Think I could get to the wall before they catch me, if I kiss you now?”

But now you just sat there. Against the bars in that bitter, dark cold as tears ran freely down those same cheeks he once held as you found nothing for you. It was possible the panic hit you so much you blacked out, there for so long just watching the still body of the one man who never had to do anything to keep your heart.

He had taken it with him here, and now it was left in the cold as he was. Tears on your face had frozen and covered with more as you barley moved. Last night they had said, he was alive just last night and yet the morning hours you arrived were enough time to cut into him.

You didn’t notice anyone come in. Your back against the iron, knees up to your chest as your forearms rested across them. The tears found no need to be covered up as you watched him in silence as the figures came to your side.

Both were large, one the pure white that had lost as you did. Ghost approached you slowly, his eyes trained on Jon before turning to you and nudging right up against the side of your head. Your hands reached up, grasping at the soft fur before you turned your face into him. Ghost almost seemed to move as if to bury his own head in your neck back before moving. Your legs slipping in front of you to lay flat, as the direwolf rested his head on your lap. Eyes watching Jon, but keeping right at your side.

The other figure you didn’t expect. They had left, giving you time alone but it seemed the longer you were gone one had taken the time on his own to go see if you were alright. The large one from before, orange hair still wild and his own blue eyes stared at Jon as intensely as you did, but without the tears pulling from your heart down onto your cheeks. He mimicked the position you were in just seconds before but took his own time to find any strength to speak.

His voice was deep, a rumbling that if loud you suspected would boom like a thunder. “Impossible to get him to open up. Always so quiet like he never wanted to talk about himself, until it was about you.” The man, Tormund, had something held back in his own chest you could hear, a pain of his own. “Took us a while, but once I got him to talk about you it was like that’s all he could talk about. Think it’d been a long time since he did. Called him a moron for leaving a girl like that behind.”

He had no choice, that’s what he said and you both knew there was nothing either could do to have changed it. Your voice was rough, dry as it quietly murmured out. Eyes trained on him, on where the red on his chest lay. “We never had a chance did we..”

Ghost perked up, moving to watch your face with something like a surprised gaze for a wolf but instead just sat up more to watch you directly as you found more of a voice finally. “You found him here?”

Tormund nodded, motioning to the direwolf, “That one found him, body was still warm even. No one even saw a thing.”

“Mercy, sire, I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Something however, didn’t agree with that. Something in you that was dark and hollow, but it opened like a wound and slipping in was rage. A rage that brew and grew, as your eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as you looked at Jon. “Someone saw it. And I’m willing to wager it was more then just a someone who did it.”

Footsteps approached behind you as Edd rejoined. A stilted grief as he paused looking to the sight before him, behind him as well was Theon. Theon who at that point, had a silent wide eyed look as he too saw the image in front of him. Edd clearing his throat before looking only to you, “Sorry to interrupt, your grace but-”

The voice that spoke after was one you too hadn’t learn in a long time. “There are things I think we need to discuss.” Turning in place, you didn’t see him just outside the door.

Looking back to Jon, and then Ghost who barley looked away from your eyes, you paused before accepting the outstretched hand of Tormund who pulled you up with ease and followed you as closely as the direwolf did. The door behind you closing as the lot of you were standing now in the equally as empty corridor of the cell block. Standing before you though, was a grim looking man who you last saw on the other side of the lines.

“Not exactly how I envisioned seeing you again.”

Ser Davos Seaworth was still here. Your father and his men had all been here, and yet so far the only trace of them left was the one in front of you. “To be fair, Ser Davos I don’t know anyone who expected to see me again.” Edd, Tormund, and Davos all hesitated as they looked at you, “What?”

It was Edd who spoke up, “That’s what we needed to talk about. Don’t think we’re putting any blame on you, your grace, but..the last thing we saw of Jon before he- it was a letter he got. About you.”

Davos was the one who sent the nail into your heart. “A letter from the Boltons.”

Sharing an uneasy look with Theon, you swallowed harshly trying to keep an even expression and as steady of a tone as you could. “Why would the Boltons send Jon a letter about me?”

Davos elaborated as you all stood in the dark and the cold. “The boy, Ramsay, sent him a letter...accusing him of..stealing you. Calling you his bride and saying Jon’s the one who stole him and that if he didn’t give you back then Ramsay would go hunting for you himself.” They knew where you went, but why would they think Jon actually had anything to do with it? That didn’t make sense.

“Where is it now?” No one answered, but your voice this time had less patience then before. “The letter, where is it?”

Edd spoke up, “We don’t know. It was on Jon the last time we saw him, but was gone when we found him here.” Your eyes narrowed more, your blood flowing a little faster then before. “I don’t know if they were trying to hide what they did at all, or if this was just to stall anyone from finding out why they did it but, if that letter’s gone-”

“Someone has it.” You looked between them all, “Someone has that letter and whoever does, helped do this.” Edd repeated the word helped in question as you inhaled deeply. “No one saw who did it, no one saw it happen, and there’s way too many wounds in his chest for only one man to do this and get away unharmed, unseen. This wasn’t just a murder.”

“Mutiny.” Tormund finished for you, and you nodded at him.

In the quiet you crossed your arms, looking down as your mind raced before meeting their eyes all once more. “Who here had the most to gain by this? Someone who didn’t want Jon as Lord Commander, someone who had reasons to want him dead?”

Edd had the answer to that. “Ser Alliser Thorne. Been here more then twenty years, hated Jon from the first day he arrived, and lost to him when we voted for our new Lord Commander. Some of the men didn’t like Jon neither, but not enough to do this.”

Tormund’s voice was clearer, more determined as now an anger set in his own eyes as he looked to yours. “So that’s where we start.”

The plans that were made in the quiet of that cell were organized, but not before one last thing had to be brought up. This time, the look in Davos’s eye spoke something of more bad news. “There is one last thing you should know. It’s about your father...and your sister.”

Ghost had not left your side as you came back into the main court. All onlookers seemed to be put off by the sight, the large direwolf only ever listened too by one man, either commanded by Jon or off on his own and yet now never once left your side as you stepped onto the gravel. Looking around with a narrowed, harsh gaze you knew some of them were involved. But stood around doing their work as if nothing was wrong or had nothing to hide.

A young pair of eyes was unsettled and on edge as he looked at you, and even more as he met Ghost’s eyes before taking off. Quite young you thought, but not much more of it. Not now. The others had been given their instructions leaving you, Ghost and Tormund together. A strange trio likely to be seen.

Glancing down at you, his eyebrow quirked up. “What’s with none of you royalty ever dressing for the cold?” He did admittedly look rather warm but something to you about the cold was crisp and needed inside. A familiar sting that kept you up.

You shrugged a shoulder, “Call it stubbornness.” At the least you weren’t trapped in this ice and snow in a dress currently. Watching the people currently, your eyes glanced up to a walkway on an upper floor that made you feel a deeper rage filter in.

So she was watching you it seemed. Her eyes met yours as a curious look waved over her and met nothing but anger. You had one reason to despise her, but now you had an even stronger one. You had to keep such a feeling down. You couldn’t handle this all at once. The red had to wait.

But you would eventually. No Lord Commander, no order in their ranks, and no longer the King that came to their aid. That’s what Davos had said to you, what Ramsay had said of the “false King” and what was done in the chaos after.

It was all a mess that you missed by mere hours. Turning back to Tormund, you crossed your arms in thought as he spoke. “Most crows here hate my guts more then they did his, me and the wolf’ll keep an eye on you from afar.”

Ghost didn’t move with him, a low rumble in his throat as you looked down to him before nodding behind you to follow. You found it odd, the way he stared at you like he was trying to challenge you on something before he relented and followed Tormund. They’d watch from the distance, giving the other men around here a little more ease if it was only you they spoke too. Trying to learn mostly from listening.

You found more men that mourned Jon then disliked him. Edd had said it seemed like half his brother’s all hated Jon, but you didn’t find that in this somber grief. Perhaps the vocal few only stood out amongst the quiet supporters as if the bigger number. Just what you thought, most knew nothing and the brave ones naming a few names that had issues with Jon in the past. Certain names coming up more often then others.

A few men were Northerners, those ones held a bit of shock and awe as they spoke to you, but had the inclination of your cold and on edge demeanour that you were not in the place to discuss that you were indeed, alive. Not the image of the Queen in the North some of them had likely, but they’d have to forgive you on such a slight.

You didn’t feel like that woman, not since losing Robb at the Twins, and not while the man whose heart you were ripped away from sat in the cold with a stab wound in his own. Hard to say but you may never feel like that woman again. Those same young eyes found yours more then once when you found yourself coming into what appeared to be some kind of dining hall.

A few men all sat at a table when the others were in tiny scattered pairs or alone far from them. At the far front was a man with a spiteful look in his eyes, deep lines in his face from years of such a scowl and as he spoke it was a mocking that you felt yourself tense at.

“So we traded one King for a dead Queen. Seems like we’re all having difficulty remembering the Night’s Watch has nothing to do with your politics and wars.” He seemed to hold a level of authority over the others who watched in silence.

Easy to figure out who this was. “Ser Alliser, I see your skills of hospitality are as gracious as your attitude.” Walking slowly up to the other end of the long table, you met his eyes as he leaned back in his seat with a glare.

Some quiet ones, begun to walk back out the door. “If you’re here for Lord Snow I’m afraid your a bit too late.” Amusement was in his eyes, but none in yours. Edd was not lying it seemed. “Sorry to see you leave so soon after arriving.”

This time your eyebrows quirked up as you kept about a foot in front of the table. “Forgive me gentleman, I’m not terrible familiar with the day to day of the Night’s Watch but it strikes me as odd Ser Alliser, that your Lord Commander is found dead in the middle of the night, and his First Ranger is just sitting around as if he has nothing to attend to on the matter.”

There was a distinct quiet between a few of the men that caught your eye with a flashing flicker to them and back. The mans glare deepened. “Hard to attend to my duties with you and the wildlings sniffing around.”

You didn’t move and no one else dared breathe. “You don’t find it curious that no one saw your Lord Commander’s murder, and then his body hidden away hoping no one would find him? Or the letters he had been carrying with him that are now missing?”

A tiny passing glint in his eyes flew past, but you did not miss it one bit. Ser Alliser clenched his jaw as he leaned forward, “You mean the one about you? The ravings of a stupid boy trying to lure out another stupid boy to fight over a girl?” Taking a sip from his mug, he drew the moment out before letting it thud back onto the table. “The Night’s Watch has a duty and none of it says we should care about a southern girl’s lovers quarrel.”

The quiet ones at the table all seized up and drew back into themselves as the looming figure of Tormund came up to one side of the table, adjacent to you. Voice crackling as it was loud. “You crows call yourselves brothers, but here you all are sitting around while she does all the work.”

Neither you nor Ser Alliser looked away from the other. “That’s not quite fair. This is hard work, covering up for traitors and murderers in his ranks.”

Bracing his hands on the table he straightened up, “Are you accusing me of something, girl?”

The air was thick, and the table was silent as well as the room. But you shrugged, he had given you enough information, despite how minimal it truly was. The atmosphere at Castle Black was completely tense, but some of that tensity seemed to grow more rotten then others. Clearly, work was not just cut out for you, but had been for Jon to make this all work as well. “Innocent men are usually the quickest to defend themselves, the guilty usually deflect in my experience.”

You had stroke something inside of the man clearly that spawned an anger, you had moved to turn away from the table heading to the door when the sound of him standing up abruptly hit. Tormund turned around first, your eyes only managing to catch the aggressive stance Ser Alliser stood with when it happened.

As if from nowhere, Ghost flew past your vision as he leaped up onto the table. Only in a few short strides was he hovering in the man’s face, a growling almost snarling sound coming from him as he bore his teeth and leaned close into him. Every man at that table jumped back to their feet and no doubt Ghost was so close his breath would be felt.

It was a display everyone in the room including Tormund stood surprised at for a moment, like such a fast and aggressive display of anger from the direwolf wasn’t normal. You hadn’t seen Ghost since you last saw Jon, but this wasn’t the demeanour you knew. This was closer to the strength and protective nature of Grey Wind, only Ghost did so without any single kind of prompt.

It took you to softly whisper Ghosts name for him to stop. Snapping at Ser Alliser’s face, making him flinch back as the direwolf turned on the spot to come up to you. His height added with the table had him loom over you with eyes so red they looked like blood. Unlike any others would’ve, you had no hesitation or fear as you reached up to him.

Running a hand gently across the fur along his neck as the rumbling in his chest vibrated through your fingertips. Only relaxing the longer your hand stayed on him before you glanced behind to Ser Alliser. Who watched you still taken back by what was something the direwolf had never done before. He’d been almost attacked like that once before years ago, but not by that wolf.

As you three filed out, Ghost growled once more before staying so close you could’ve felt his fur were your arms not covered. Theon approached you shortly after, “Your grace,” So quickly Theon fell back into it it seemed. You tried not to think of that night, of Robb smirking telling him he didn’t need to call you both that in private. “I have someone who wants to speak to you.”

Tormund and Ghost both stayed outside. Theon bringing you to where your fathers quarters had been, opening the door you took a pause to look around. Your mother had a room private to herself it seemed, you’d have to deal with that eventually you knew.

So this room stayed cold and empty now, trying not to look at the open books scattered on the table in the living space as you turned to the desk. Covered in work and papers as Theon closed the door and settled near the wall, you saw the young figure in the chair in front of you.

Walking around to the far side, you recognized the young boy that had watched you nervous many times before. Only now he sat rigid and something in his eyes barley keeping himself together. Taking a seat, you wondered briefly how much of what was left on here did they expect was your responsibility now, because when the boy spoke, it was that of someone who recognized who you were before all of this.

Eyeing him stoically as he spoke. “You’re the Queen, right? Robb Stark’s wife?” You felt a tiny leap in your heart that only added to the darkness that was currently trapped between the bodies of two men ripped from you. You nodded as he wrung his hands together before looking around even more nervous then before. Asking what his name was he swallowed heavily, “Olly.”

You leaned forward, your forearms resting on the desk with your hands clasped together. The move only made the boy more nervous it seemed. “You wanted to tell me what it was you saw, is that it?” He nodded, your lungs tightening a bit. You had to deal with this, you couldn’t push this way beacuse it hurt.

You arrived and no one but his closest companions had done a thing about Jon, no one took responsibility and no matter how much it feel rotting and sick inside, you needed to know what happened. “I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, Olly. If you know something about last night, tell it all and tell it true. It’s a great crime to lie to a Queen.”

Olly started slow, tripping over his words like his heart was about to explode from his chest. “I’m- I was his steward..the letter he got, about you, it uh...he wanted to go find you, they said it was against his vows and then-” Just as you wondered if he was put up to this, your heart slammed down into the floor as Olly suddenly seemed to snap, the words almost coming with tears. “I did it-”

Your face fell instantly, barley getting those three words out before he could barley even breathe as he fell apart before you. In an instant you looked up to Theon, “Leave us.” Trying to protest, likely for your own safety you wouldn’t have it. “Now, Theon.”

As soon as the door closed, you quickly moved from your seat. Kneeling in front of him you looked up, your own heart so hard in your chest it felt painful but your voice was gentle. “Breathe for me, Olly. Take a breathe, like that yes. Now do it again.”

One of your hands reached up hold at his upper arm, the touch almost seemed to soothe him as he listened to you. One intake of air at a time before he started to come down. The tears tried not to fall, but the desperation in them gave him back some head space. Enough that his voice was small and watery, “I’m sorry, I did it, I’m sorry.”

Nerves jumped in you, fighting to tell them inside to stay calm. You saw what Jon’s chest looked like and you were fairly certain there was more to this then a crying boy. “Look at me, Olly. I need you to tell me what you mean, what exactly did you do.”

Keep calm you told yourself, over and over, keep calm. You wanted to scream and cry and lash out ever since you stepped foot in that cell but now was not the time to lose your composure. This didn’t look like the eyes of a murderer and you had seen too many of those by this point in your life.

Taking one last breathe, he hung his head down before meeting your eyes again. Just a little kid he was, probably not much older then- no. Don’t think about that right now either. Stay in this moment you told yourself. “The Lord Commander had asked for anyone who may want to volunteer. Men to willingly go with him to find you, he- none of us knew you were alive, your grace. We all thought you were dead. Or, that’s what they told us.”

His accent was certainly a bit Northern, and just like the little family that spoke of you days ago, it felt odd after being struck down so painfully to be reminded of the person that the North and Robb both believed in. Were you still that Queen or had your jaded torment turned you more into the stern iron fist of your father. Looking at Olly, you hoped it was the former.

“For a while, I thought so too.”

Meeting your eyes, he sniffed before nodding again. You moved your hand from his arm, giving him some space to think but never moved from your crouched spot in front of him. Easier for a child to confess when looking down at the authority then up. “I didn’t want to, your grace. I didn’t want to, but they-” He paused. Knew you caught it and he slipped up but he sailed passed it as if it never happened.

“I was upset, he was bringing the wildlings south of the wall...I knew why, he told me...I was his steward he wanted me there at all times, said it was important to learn these things in case I was ever in command one day.” You wanted so badly to cry, hearing people who knew this version of Jon you’d never get the chance to but you could so perfectly imagine the man he became.

Speaking slowly, you tried to help put the pieces together in his high strung state. “So Jon brought the wildlings south of the wall, and that upset you enough to murder him?” Your tone was doubting and it only made him almost start crying all over again but something wasn’t quite adding up.

Shutting his eyes, he took a few deep breaths before meeting you again. “I thought it was..but then I...I actually...”

Your heart sunk, you knew what he was confused about. You knew it too well. Nothing will ever prepare you for when that feeling truly sets in, but at least you were an adult your first time. Not..not this. “Saying your angry enough to want to kill a man is different then being the one to actually do it.” He nodded, struggling to look at you as you continued softly. “Something isn’t adding up here, Olly. You didn’t do this on your own- no, look at me. I know you didn’t do this on your own. You didn’t shove a knife into Jon’s chest seven times and drag him out of sight all on your own and no one saw you.”

The boy looked at his hands, and you knew he wasn’t lying about what he did but you’ve seen what a child capable of such cruelty looks like and Olly looking nothing like the vile eyes that your once cousin held. He inhaled, opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again and shaking his head. “I can’t...they don’t know I’m even talking to you I was supposed to stay quiet and do as I was told.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Did someone tell you to do this? Did one of these men come to you and tell you to help murder the Lord Commander?” He nodded again, and you ran through the list of names and faces you’d heard during the day. And you could see the aggression in Ghost in your defence. It seemed, Olly wasn’t the only one who knew what happened but the only one who could tell you with words.

“They told me I had to help. That they had no other choice, that I should be angry for bringing them south of the Wall and I...that’s why it’s my fault. I let them talk me into it.” He didn’t look at you, but there was shame in his voice and his heart. “They made me go last, had me...stab him in the heart and...” His voice broke as you felt your muscles shake in nerves. “He just looked confused..like he didn’t understand why I was there, why I did it.”

Suddenly his voice rose, an anger that begun to paint on his face as he frustratingly wiped the tears away only for more to fall in their place. “He took me in, looked after me and wanted to train me to be like him. And I killed him.”

Your mind could see the scars on Jon’s chest. Seven of them all deep and only one above his heart. He would’ve bled out no matter what. Putting a knife in his heart was just to make sure no one found them before they could finish the job. You sighed deeply. Pushing up from your thighs to stand as you turned a few paces away.

Hand running over your mouth as you swallowed that pain once more. You wanted to be angry, wanted to find it in you to punish this child for what he did but who would you be if you did that? What justice was there in such a punishment for a child who couldn’t have understood the reality of what he was being told to do.

Leaning back across the desk you looked at him firmly. “I won’t lie to you, I’m mad. I’m furious, Olly. That man out there I came here with? He risked everything to get me here, put his life on the line to make sure I got here alive what do I find?” He rose his eyes up to meet yours, an exhausted defeat beginning to set in for him. “I find the man I came here for, the man..I find him murdered by his own brothers. Thrown in a cell like he’s just a slab of meat to be stored away. I’m more angry then you could possibly believe, Olly. You looked me in the eye and told me you shoved a knife into the heart of someone who meant the world to me and there’s nothing I can to change that.”

“But I also believe in justice. And I do not think that you played enough of a role here to be the one to face the brunt of that justice. And you’re also the only person who came to me. Of your own free will, you came to me and confessed what you did.” The hope you felt only a few hours ago as you and Theon rode up to the wall felt like it was a horrible dream by that point.

“Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you’re a murderer. I think you were a normal boy who was taken advantage of by much older men here to help commit a horrible crime.” He didn’t confirm or deny, and you wondered if he was trying to grapple with who he was now as much as you felt yourself. “How did you get here. The Night’s Watch. What brought you here, with enough hate for the wildlings that it was used to trick you into thinking this was alright.”

Just as you suspected, he was a normal boy. Lived in the Gift in a small village with his mother and father and it was a raid by them that did it. You tried not to think of it, as he described the red headed woman who shot an arrow into his father. No reason to think it was the same one, but you couldn’t help but imagine it all the same.

The ordeal was as hard for him to get through as it was for him to tell you what he’d done. His father, his mother, the threat made by the men when they sent him running to Castle Black as a warning. You had been in enough battles to envision the carnage he had lived through.

Just a traumatized boy who lost everything in a few short minutes. Easy to manipulate for the right, or should you say, wrong people. Pulling a chair right up to sit by him you bent over to meet his eyeline with a low tone.

“You did a bad thing, Olly. An awful thing, to someone I care about no less, and justice tells me that such an action deserves a just sentence. But you’re also a child, who came to me and told me the truth all on your own. And I know for a fact that you didn’t plan this, and what you’ve done will already haunt you for the rest of your life. It haunts most of us.”

The fear in his eyes looked conflicted, deserve it or not he likely wondered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. So here’s what we are going to do. You were Jon’s steward right?” Olly nodded yes. “For now, you stick with me. Either you’re by my side, or if not me then you stick by whoever I tell you to stay with, do you understand?”

He nodded again, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re...not going to execute me, your grace?”

“They were boys,”

Olly would’ve been around Willem and Martyn Lannister’s age. And you could still see them laying dead and mutilated in the halls of Riverrun and the anger that seeped so deeply through you and Robb. You could see Jon too, but you also saw the boys. “I watched the King in the North execute men who had murdered two boys your age. They were our prisoners, but they were boys and he executed men in his own ranks for such a murder. I won’t dishonour his memory or Jon’s by executing a child. But there is catch here, Olly.”

You leaned in close, “I’m not going to execute you, harm you, or even throw you in a cell. But you need to do one last thing for me in exchange. I need you to tell me the names of every single man involved in Jon’s murder. All of them.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I only watched for the guards.”

Meeting his eyes, you found a little bit of admiration in them. Just a normal boy pushed to an extreme he couldn’t possibly have understood the consequences of. “If they knew about it, stood guard to make sure no one was around, stood back and watched, and every person who shoved a knife into his chest, I need all of their names. Starting with the one who planned this in the first place. You will stay by my side, but only if you tell me exactly who is the man who wanted the Lord Commander dead.”

He flinched at Tormund as he walked out, walking away quickly in discomfort as he left to follow your instructions. Yourself telling Theon to go find Edd, it left you, Ghost and Tormund alone. Standing by his side as you both looked out to the yard you spoke lowly. “I’m not going to ask how much you were involved in attacking that boys village, nor will I ask about anyone else involved.”

His voice was rough, and were it not for the confidence in you and with the way Ghost dutifully found your side you might have been intimidated by the gruffness. “Am I on the pretty crow’s chopping block now as well?”

To his suprise, you had no ire in you towards him. “The fact that you’re here, in this place, trying to help me find out who did this, tells me that Jon trusted you. Which means I have no reason not to trust you as well.”

Watching Edd approach you, Tormund smirked a bit. “Learned as much from him as he did from me, I think. When this is all over, should hear about what’s been happening out North. He was probably one of the only ones taking any of it seriously. Seen shit a pretty lady like you would never believe.”

Your dreams flashed of blues and fires, of bodies and figures like ice and the scar in your stomach twisted as Edd came up to you. “You’d be surprised what I am willing to believe.” Turning your attention to the man in front of you, he noted the fire in your eyes. “I want you to gather the men in your meeting hall. No excuses.”

Both men looked at you as Edd asked, “What’s this about?”

But you didn’t meet their eyes. You only recalled a day when somehow hundreds of miles apart, you and Jon seemed to see each other in a strange vision behind your eyes. The last time you saw him before the nightmare thrown at you here. “I have names.”

Standing across the way in your moment alone, you caught the eye of your mother. The sun was moving quickly along the sky and eventually it would turn to night and you’d have to deal with a whole new nightmare. You weren’t sure what to say to her, spent too long apart, too long on opposite sides of a war that tore you and your father apart so hatefully. And now as she stood there beside Ser Davos you could see the tint of red lurking behind her.

It was her religion, not yours, not Ser Davos’s, and not...not hers either. This was your mothers doing, your fathers encouragement but now you were the only one to handle the aftermath of what she had almost let the red woman do, what damage was done before she begged for her to stop.

You’d handle that later. Only one thing at a time.

Ghost turned to look at you, standing tall the way he was sitting close to your own height. Gods can direwolves grow, don’t they. Looking at him, you ran a hand over the fur at his neck. “Don’t know why you’re sticking with me. He got killed trying to come after me, if I got here sooner or..just died when I was supposed to..” Ghost growled at you, shifting onto his feet as he did so before nudging you with his head.

Turning to see no eyes left watching, you slowly slid your shirt up just enough that Ghost could see the edge of a deep, large wound across your lower stomach that had the direwolf growl more. Nudging it with his nose before training his red eyes up at you.

“I’m just saying, Ghost. If this killed me like it was supposed to, Jon would still be with you right now, wouldn’t he?” It was hard to explain why something about Ghost was bugging you. You’d never seen him nor any other of the direwolves act like this but you knew it had been years. Maybe you just didn’t know Ghost anymore.

Maybe you wouldn’t have known Jon either.

That image in the cave that flashed before you came back, maybe coming after you was a fluke. It sat rotten in your core to think Jon could have died, regretting ever trying to come for you. That whatever that image in your mind of the pretty redhead was the only love he had needed or wanted anymore.

Coming to the hall, you nudged Ghost to head down the stairs to the ground level. “It’ll be okay, go on.”

Your footsteps echoed as they walked across the wooden floor. The room cramped with men all with eyes trained on you. Up on a platform was a table with multiple chairs and none taken. Whatever hierarchy was in the Night’s Watch currently fell into your hands in that moment. And you hoped that it would be enough to play out what was needed to be done here.

Your hand trailed along the back of the chair in the middle of the table, before bracing both palms against them looking to the men. Some in clear view of you with a disdain you knew would never go away, Edd close down near the front with watchful eyes and Olly sitting to the side with his own nerves rampaging.

“Sometime last year, a group of your own men mutinied against Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. Held the girls there prisoners, and even held some of your brothers too. Men who died fighting at your sides. What was the punishment for the crimes of those men?” There was silence in the room before one man spoke up. You didn’t know him, but you appreciated the honestly as he named death as the punishment.

No one contested it, but your eyes found a few odd ones out. The one in your most direct view, Ser Alliser, watching with distrust. “And who was the man that led you all there to carry out that justice?”

Murmurs of Jon Snow rumbled through the hall.

You were trying not to let anger take over, it was growing harder and harder as Allisers’s eyes bored into your person. “And who became your Lord Commander?” More of the same murmurs. “Some of you may not have voted for him, but he became your Lord Commander all the same. The man that you follow, the one that leads you and the one you all fought beside multiple times. He put his life on the line for you all, and some of you repayed that kindness with treason.”

Some men fidgeted in their seats. Good. “One man in this room came up with a plan to attack your Lord Commander in the middle of the night, murder him, and tried to hide the body. Like a coward too afraid to face his own crimes.” The same men all looked at each other except for two. One young who watched you closely and the other daring you to continue along this path.

“He lays dead on the floor of a cell as some have hidden his murderer from you all. Your own brothers betrayed him, and they betrayed you. I don’t want your sadness or your sorry. I want your anger. I want you to be angry that someone here decided they had the right to murder a brother under your own noses and lie about it.”

The air in the room was thick, the heat rising as men spoke lowly to each other that increased as they discussed it. “So I will give you this one chance. Stand up in front of your men, your brothers and be honest about your own actions before I name you myself.”

Olly looked to you from his seat, your eyes only flickering to him as something inside of you raged. He was at least honest in what he did, and yet none of these men more then twice his age had any bravery to stand up for what they did. Jon died at their hands, because of you, and yet his own murderers were too cowardly to be as honest as he was.

He deserved far better then any of this.

“The Night’s Watch doesn’t answer to any Crown.”

Heads all turned to look at Thorne, and you stood up straighter in your place. You could see Theon far beside you watching curiously. It had been along time since he’d seen this side of you, a long time since you’d even been allowed to be a leader but he could see clear as day the weight on your shoulders.

“But you do.” Theon’s voice was more confident then it had been in years, and he tried not to focus on the heavy weight in your eyes that softened as you looked to him. “You take your orders from the Iron Throne, ask them for resources when you don’t have enough, and take their criminals as your own. She may not rule the Seven Kingdoms, but this is the North, and King Robb being dead doesn’t make her any less Queen in the North. Meaning right now, she’s your Queen, Ser.”

Sighing out you turned back to the room as the room turned to Ser Alliser. Theon had done a lot for you, but he wasn’t about to stop now. He didn’t have all of the details, but clearly finding Jon dead had hurt you harder then it did most people here. Hit you about as hard as he saw you hurt over Robb.

Ser Alliser stood up, the scraping of the stool echoing off the walls. “He already broke his vows. Murdered a brother, lay with a wildling, let those other wildlings into our walls and our lands and he was about to break another just to rescue you.”

You bit your tongue enough it was astounding you didn’t draw blood. The condescension in his tone as if lecturing a misbehaving child from him of all men. He was lucky you didn’t let Ghost tear him apart all those hours ago. “It is not your place to decide what is to be done about those actions. He was your leader.”

No guilt in his tone as he spoke and the rage built so much in your chest the men in the room could’ve heard your heart pounding. Or your muscles shaking with a tingling to leap and act. “And now he’s dead, that doesn’t mean we are going to listen to you.” And yet, not a single man in that room stood up, spoke, or moved a muscle. “I did what I did for the Watch, not to be lectured by a little girl throwing a tantrum over a dead man.”

Even the wind stopped for such a comment. For a second, in his eyes he realized what he said and steeled back as hard as ever. He knew there was no going back now, and it seemed he was confident in his position against yours. Two standing figures staring one another down as your voice was low.

Lower then before and only the sheer quiet in the room allowed everyone to hear it. “Are you confessing to your crime?” Everyone in the room turned to him. Some men looked nervous as it to be called out, Olly sat with a darkened narrow look on his face looking between you both. As if realizing that you truly had not shown him the same strength in power as now.

But the man just looked at you, raising his chin in the air with pride. “He was no brother of mine.”

Your eyes were almost black, muscles in your neck almost shaking from the rush of blood flying through your veins as you stared him down. You had one last card to play against him, and it came simply down to a matter of what side these men’s pendulum swung.

“Take Ser Alliser outside.”

Men all stood at once, slowly but in the intensity of the room it was felt by all as the attention was torn between both. Your voice quiet once more never breaking eye contact. “Olly, bring me a sword.” The boy rushing out without question, as everyone stood in the room.

Some men gathered near him, and you knew he was waiting for his brothers to stand by his side against you. He was confident in his dedication that they viewed his actions all the same, and in an instant that image was shattered to him.

Multiple men grabbed him, dragging the larger and stronger man out the door and down into the courtyard.

The sight of the amount of them all filing out of the room, down the steps and onto the court with a gritted teeth seething Ser Alliser caught the attention of those outside. The free folk with Tormund who all turned with a curiosity at the sight, and above on one of the landings, two more. Slowly making his way to the middle standing right in front of where they dragged him, Ghost watched quiet and tall with eyes so tense they looked almost human.

Selyse Baratheon stood with Ser Davos in a quiet conservation when the men of the Night’s Watch all filed out of their meeting hall. Ser Alliser Thorne in many of their holds being dragged up to a platform as the rest gathered on the ground around it. Both turned with a twisting on their faces at the sight as Edd knocked him down to his knees, neck overtop the wooden stump with an anger on his own that followed many of the faces amongst the crowd.

The sight that caught their attention the most, and the attention of the woman in red lurking nearby was the smaller, shorter figure then most of them descending the steps. Selyse had never seen this side of her eldest daughter before.

Coming to the ground, Olly came up to you and only for a second did you register the white pommel on the edge of the sword’s hilt. He had gone specifically to grab Jon’s own sword where it had been stashed in the Lord Commander’s room. The sword was large and heavy, more then what you were used to but as you grabbed it with your left hand you cared none of it.

The men parted ways to let you pass and it unnerved the approached Ser Alliser how you blinked not once as you came his way. Up onto the steps you stood to the side of him, unsheathing the sword that had been given to Jon personally. Refitted for him personally. It only seemed just to do so with it as you handed it’s holding to Theon.

The rage of the man matched yours as you held the tip of the blade to the ground in your palms. Ghost stepped forward and if the knelt man looked up, he would see the same kind of vile spite in the eyes of a direwolf as you held in your own. An odd sight for such a creature.

You had fought in a battle before, but this was new. You stood alone with this sword and your justice only to be given by you. You had stood by choices like this before, stood by Robb’s side before but now you did alone. And your racing nerves burned inside you. “If you have any last words, Ser Alliser. Speak them now.”

Only the wind was heard. Wind and the scraping as you used both hands to grasp the handle of the blade as he finally turned to you. A hiss in his voice as he held confidence in his actions that made you seethe. “He was a traitor, I should have tossed his corpse outside. Let you freeze to death next to the bastard who loved you so much.”

He never broke eye contact as you stared at him. Your hands screaming at you needing to shake from the strain as you looked into his eyes. You lay dying beside Robb Stark and the gods tore your deaths together from you. And now mocking you that Jon Snow died being betrayed just as his own brother did, and died even more alone then Robb had.

If you could have joined Robb, joined Jon, you would have. He deserved more then this. More then anything this world spat at him. All the Starks did. And in one blinding flash of anger as you recalled the feeling of the wound over his heart you swung it down in one go.

Valyrian steel Maege Mormont said it was. Heavy and sharp like no other blade and in one go, even at the weakness you held from almost a year of captivity, the steel of Longclaw was enough that it took his head in one swing. The faint words of a man as good as your father long gone, telling you if you are to kill a man as such, to look into a man’s eyes. And neither you nor him looked away until there was nothing left in his place.

The men were silent, and as you handed the sword to Theon you felt heavy in your heart. You looked up to the men, and knew one last point to be made before this was over. “There were twelve men involved in your Lord Commander’s murder. I know of two, both have confessed to their crimes and paid the price. Ten brothers among you either stood watching guard or shoved a knife into his chest themselves. Step forward of your own accord. Before I give your names to your brothers for you.”

None moved, and none said a word. If they had considered it, you decided it was too late as you opened your mouth to speak. “Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck-” and in an instant eight other men stepped forward of their own accord, the innocent ones shoving forward the named men trying to cower in the back.

The other men of the Watch begun to circle around them, it made you sick to think Jon died not realizing that when it truly mattered more men were on his side then not and he may have never known it. Marsh and Yarwyck now shoved in front of you, as your eyes looked to the other eight.

“Many of you came here as criminals. They took you here, and your slate was wiped clean and given a new chance. Most of you took that chance and served with honour. These men acted out the same vile actions that sent them here in the first place, and murdered not just their leader, but a brother who fought beside them.”

The eyes above, watching you from both that of the free folk and the trio above were watching carefully. Ghost stepped forward of his own, coming to your side, as if sensing how much you needed someone. You had no choice now, it was your duty to carry this burden and you wouldn’t fail that but doing it like this wasn’t normal. You weren’t Robb, you certainly weren’t Stannis.

“Jon believed there were more important things beyond the wall then whatever rules he may have broken. He understood that we have greater enemies to fight then each other. I am not your leader, I am not one of you, but we are going to have to put that passed us if we are to survive what’s coming.”

Ghost didn’t move, but you could feel a rumble in his chest at your words. “Tomorrow we wipe that slate clean again, you came forward and the punishment of your own brothers knowing the atrocities you committed will be shameful enough.”

And as you stood in the remains of the day, most of the men understanding that tomorrow was to start fresh, you felt no relief in what had been done. Jon was still dead, and you still had one more thing to do before this horror of a day was to come to an end. At this rate, you hoped that end would come in consuming enough alcohol to kill a horse and sleep until the gods forced you back into the world.

In your fathers quarters, you looked over the work along his desk, and some of Jon’s own work you had Olly bring to you. You had no idea the state of things here at all and that days end looked further and further away the more into a headache you spun.

It was Tormund who came to see you first, looking around unimpressed and even moreso as he landed on the work on the desk. Sitting down in the chair he looked at you finally an expression slipping into curiously, “Didn’t think a pretty crow like you had that in you.”

Dropping the paper you leaned back in the seat with a sigh. “I wasn’t sure I did either. But it needed to be done so I did it.” You had paused, glancing up to him with a disturbed curiosity of your own. “I know it won’t take back what happened, or mean much coming from me, but I’m sorry for what my father did to Mance Rayder.” Tormund’s eyebrows rose in a suprise as you elaborated. “He didn’t deserve to die like that...no one deserves to die like that.”

Jon had given him the mercy ultimately, shot an arrow into his heart just as the fires begun to make Mance scream in pain. You weren’t sure if that would have infuriated your father, or secretly impressed him for the courage it took to so brazenly go against his law.

Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward arms laying across his knees. “Mean fucker, your old man.” It was such a weird thing to do, but you laughed. A genuine laugh that took both him and Theon quiet off to the side by total suprise.

“Try being raised by him. I’m shocked I have any social skills whatsoever.” Tormund chuckled himself, and even if he didn’t outloud, Theon felt it inside his chest. Was that ever true. Your first week getting to know the Greyjoy he was convinced you were a complete bitch and the Starks must be delusional to even remotely like you. It sure didn’t stay that way, clearly. He had a sister out there who just might want to know he’s alive, but the woman who felt more like a sister that Theon cared about the most, was the one sitting here in this very room.

Tormund’s voice was low and crackling, a slight amusement still trained in tone. “Got no reason to accept your apology. You didn’t burn him alive, pretty crow. Gave Thorne out there a nicer death then your father did Mance, bumps you up a few notches in my opinion.”

Your eyes glanced to the side of the desk with Jon’s own writings and you felt sick at the sight of it. “I’ve never had to do this alone. Leading like this.”

Looking up at him, you felt surprised that such a giant, thundering man could look so quiet in his expression. “He said you were married to his brother. Always wondered what you were like as a Queen and would get angry knowing he’d never get the chance. Almost sickening how much he loved you.”

There was no point in hiding it, he was dead and so was Robb. What was there to hide anymore but from your own pain? Theon could only try and connect dots he never knew existed before. “The thought of coming here, the one person here I never thought I’d see again, after everyone spent, what? A year thinking I was dead? Hell sometimes I thought I was, sure didn’t feel like a real person for a long time.”

Leaning forward a bit, Tormund grumbled, “Don’t think he quite felt like one either after you.” Hand gesturing to Ghost sitting beside you he commented, “Never seen him act quite like this before. Got wolves falling for you everywhere you go.”

A low growl left Ghost, only calmed as you narrowed your eyes and reached over running a hand over his fur. “Well, I’m not the only one who lost Jon. I don’t know if it’s because he recognizes me, or if he can somehow sense his own brother on me but..he needs someone who understands him. I suppose I just hope he doesn’t hate me for getting his owner killed.”

Ghost growled louder, nipping at your hand as he did so before settling as Theon spoke. “You killed the man who got him killed, had nothing to do with you.” You didn’t really believe that, first you failed Robb and now you got Jon killed what more damage could you possible have done. You didn’t even know why Jon still cared about you enough to try and come find you like that. Or if it was just out of a sense of obligation because you were his brothers widow.

Those soft days with him in Winterfell didn’t even feel real anymore, like it was a fantasy you dreamed up in your grief and maybe Jon hated you all along. Would that have made this easier or harder?

“We need to burn him.” Your eyes flickered back to Tormund’s in anger. “By nightfall he’ll have been there almost a day, only gets more dangerous the longer we wait. Things happen to the dead this far North.”

You had seen dreams of blue eyes and rising corpses around you. “We’re not burning him.” Tormund tried to speak but you grew louder. “I’m not burning him. I-”

Your head fell to your hands as your elbows rested up on the desk as you collected yourself, finally letting them drop flat against the desk once more. “I can’t bury Robb in Winterfell. I don’t know what they did with the rest of his body or if it still exists. He belongs there next to his father and I can’t do anything about it.” Your voice finally cracked, you barley spoke of it to Theon, until now. “I’m not doing the same to Jon. That’s his family, he belongs in his home. He belongs in Winterfell and I’m bringing him back.”

Ghost nudged your side but you didn’t take notice as Tormund warned, “If something happens-”

“Then I’ll deal with it myself. You said Jon killed some of those things with this,” Your hands reaching back to where Longclaw hung around your chair and bringing it to sit flat across the desk, running your fingers over the pommel. Just like Maege said, Jeor Mormont had it forged to look just like Ghost. “Something happens to him, I will deal with it myself but no one is burning him. I’m bringing him home where he belongs. I couldn’t do it for his brother, so let me at least do it now.”

Theon quietly called your name but you shook your head. Unable to look at either of them, he got the message thankfully. “Okay then, no one goes near him. Edd said the doors are locked to everyone but us right now, so we keep it that way.” You nodded without looking at him really.

You felt like a child for thinking it, but it wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You inhaled deeply as you sat up straighter, “Is- are they all out there finally, Theon?”

He nodded, opening the door to let the group in, Olly seemed to have correctly thought safer to keep them waiting outside until you were ready. You had one more thing to do tonight and maybe this day could finally end. Maybe you could end with it.

Ser Davos walked in with your mother, and Lady Melisendre with them as Olly closed the door after you shook your head at Tormund’s silent ask if he should leave. Call if grief for losing a friend, but he found you curious, and had no qualms about sticking around to find out why he thought so.

Walking up to lean against the front of the desk, your arms crossed you looked at the floor before up to one individual. You needed the truth, the plain truth on this one. “Ser Davos, tell me what happened.”

It was awful. In the confusion of the letter and not knowing what happened yet to Jon, two people came to a conclusion of what to do. The letter now sat in your pocket, you knew what it said. King Stannis Baratheon had been claimed dead by Ramsay in battle, and with no word from him or his armies, what were they to believe but it’s words?

King’s blood she said. Only King’s blood can be used as a sacrifice to the Lord of Light, and only powerful blood could bring the King back. You had smelt the faint traces of smoke that morning but you didn’t know what it was, now you did and you were sick and angry and wanted to smash something until your hand bled.

There was only one with King’s Blood. Only one that you hadn’t seen in so long, one who didn’t even know you were alive and yet she was allowed to be dragged to a pyre. Your eyes rose up to your mothers, the sadness there evident as your voice whispered. “She was your daughter. You thought she was your only daughter left. Let’s say it worked, it brought him back do you really think he would be grateful you murdered his only living heir to do so?”

Stepping forward, the red woman tried to placate. “Princess, it was a necessary-”

“She’s not your princess. She’s your Queen.” Her eyes narrowed at Theon’s but you raised your hand to quiet both of them.

Looking over to Davos once more you could see the pain, you knew he loved Shireen like she was his own daughter, it was impossible not to she was just a bundle of joy that was so rare in this cursed family. “Your grace, this is not the first time such a thing has been done. Using the blood of your family for her dark magic claiming it was all in the name of this god. If burning a child isn’t evil to her, I don’t know what else she would be willing to sacrifice.”

She smiled at him and it made you as angry as it did Davos uncomfortable. “It is not evil, Ser Davos. I merely do what the lord bids me to do, he works through me I do not work in favour of him. The princess was given up as a sacrifice willingly-”

Something in your mother however, snapped. The slap was harsh and yet Melisendre did not reel from it. Just as her daughter begun to scream, she pleaded for it to stop. Convinced of the desperation only to the point where her actions had consequences. A running crime against the people you loved.

With no one in charge, the King gone and dead and non yet realizing Jon laid dead himself it took some chaos to get her down. But you hadn’t gone to see Shireen for a reason, Davos that morning when he came to see you finally had told you then. She was in a very bad place, and there was little that could be done but keep her asleep for her own good.

Looking to Olly, you had sent him much earlier to see in on the situation. It kept him away from the others and kept you in the loop. He shook his head, and your own hung as a lump formed in your throat.

“My dear, there is only one way to bring the King back to us. Only blood can be traded for life and the Lord knows he is needed here and not with the dead. Let me finish the ritual, let me do you a kindness and bring your father back to you.” You bit your tongue, and Ghost begun to growl as she tried stepping to you. “You’ve lost many you love today, but I can save your father as long as you let me-”

It was a strange set of seconds. Something in you burned so angry that you were about to reach out and hit her yourself until you restrained it, but in turn Ghost had tried to move forward with a snap of his teeth. Only kept back by you reaching out to grasp the fur along his back. The direwolf standing back to look at you as if asking why.

You could see the distress finally hit your mother again, the distress you hadn’t seen last night.

“You can’t, please it was a mistake, I tried to stop her.” Pleading your name you hated that you knew Shireen would call it in the same way during scared storms in the middle of the night. “We find someone else, don’t let her do this-”

“There is no one else, unless the Queen is to give her own life up.” Melisendre eyed Ghost with disdain as she spoke. “However I’m not inclined to think the wolf will allow it.” Arguing ensued between the three of them. Theon and Olly watching it unfold, and Tormund knowing already what you were doing to have to do.

He’d seen the burning, it wasn’t something any could endure and survive. Shocked the little princess managed to hold out as long as she had, kept under deep sleep the pain so great. You looked down to Ghost, then up to Tormund in the fight between the two women and Davos. “How long will it take to build a small fire just north of the wall?”

His voice as quiet as yours, “Not long. We stay by the gate and we can keep it going long as you need, right?” Looking down with an almost amused raise of an eyebrow to Ghost.

“Lady Melisendre,” Your voice was loud and commanding, shutting down each of their arguments in the overpowering tone. “You are to stay away from my mother. From me, and all of us. Olly, escort the lady to her room and ensure she stays there for the night.”

Opening the door, he waited a second before walking over to her himself. You stared at her as she did you, first her vile lies about Robb and now she left your sister to die in agony. You wouldn’t look at her a second longer, but she left with no more argument.

“Ser Davos, go with my mother. Tormund and Theon find Edd and wait for me just outside the gate. If it must be done. I will do it myself.”

Theon met your eyes, and he knew this was going to take longer then anyone expected. The final strike of the day, the only person you had left that you truly loved, you had to end her pain yourself, and after that what did you really have? To you, this was the cost of your sins coming back tenfold to show you how cursed you were to live the remainder of your life.

He knew the look in your eye, and as you walked passed all of them. None followed.

The path to the Maesters quarters was quiet, little movement in the now dark skies above Castle Black as the few who you passed said nothing. The far look in your eye was all that needed to be said at this point. It didn’t occur to you at all, but for the first time that day Ghost did not follow you. Instead his path went down stairs to a darkness that held a secret the direwolf had no true way of explaining in this state.

The one watching her left almost as soon as you walked in. Your footsteps slow as you approached the figure in the sheets. Sitting on the bed next to her you reached up to run a hand over her face. You barley recognized her. They had kept her asleep because the scarring across her body would kill her from the shock. You didn’t even see your baby sister in the burns.

You had been atop your horse on Dragonstone the last time you saw her, having run over to you once more to give you a tight hug before she stood on the cliff watching you go. You had promised her that the next time you saw her, you’d take her underground to see the beauty of the reds and purples and greens of the deepest Dragonglass.

Tears fell freely this time, she didn’t even know you were alive and she’d be gone before you could ever tell her how much you loved her. Running along the greyscale on her face you remembered the day you got to hold her finally.

She would always tug at your hair yanking it to rest her little forehead against yours and you both adored the physical contact. She was only a baby, she didn’t remember or understand it but the cracked skin along her face told the story enough. She was beautiful regardless of what any said.

Pulling a dagger from your side, you felt shaken, choking on the inside as you ran your hand once more over her. The tears were heavy and your breathing was laboured. The Lord of Light demanded a burning but he would never take her alive, not like this, not again. She didn’t deserve that.

Neither people deserved their deaths on this day. And both were your fault in some way.

But as you pulled the dagger up, you pulled her hair back and put it at the back of her neck. You refused to let her die in anymore pain, draw it out anymore and do her the kindness of not running through her front. As you sat there, your stomach burned. Burning where you had been stabbed over and over that night and you had no way of knowing it’s truth.

But finally, as the only sound other then the crackling of the fire ran through the air and put an end to Shireen’s suffering, your eyes closed this time, as it was too much for even you to bare. Laying next to the curious state of a white direwolf though, in that same moment in the faint firelight of the ice cells?

A pair of grey eyes opened slowly in the silence.

[blurredcolour]

In My Blood | Part Five

In My Blood Masterlist

Curtis "Curt" Biddick x SOE!Female Reader

Putting your safety into the hands of a group of anarchists with no allegiance to anyone but themselves is a necessary evil to ensure your safe passage across the Pyrenees. But it is not the only uncomfortable truth you and Curt encounter on the last leg of your flight from occupied Europe.

Warnings: MAJOR canon divergence, Language, Weapons, Spy Craft, Fear, Cold, Exhaustion, Angst, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Oral Sex - f receiving, Unprotected Vaginal Sex, Pull-out Method] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This story contains revisionist history, read at your own risk. Reader is half-Belgian, half-English and has been given an extensive backstory and family tree. While they have been given the codename of "Marie," no physical descriptions or Y/N are used.

Italics used for non-English words and to indicate dialogue spoken in a language other than English.

This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 8078

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

The final deadbolt had barely clicked into place behind Françoise, on her way to the market in search of both food and news from the Ponzán group, when Curt crept down the hallway, pulling the door to her room shut, thus trapping the sleeping Charbon within.

“Curt!” You hissed softly as he returned to slide to his knees on the carpet before you, quickly folding your skirt higher on your thighs before beginning to push your legs apart.

The distracting sensation of his lips trailing kissing up your inner thighs briefly jarred your train of thought, making your eyes flutter shut. The feeling of your underwear being peeled from your hips restored your focus and you gulped.

“Wait, wait I have to tell you something important about our guides…” You whispered, frantically trying to pull him up to meet your eyes with his, fingers trying to cup his jaw.

“Mmm, I can listen while I do this.” He murmured, mouth remaining stubbornly close to its goal.

“Yes, well, I cannot speak while you do.” You huffed, trembling slightly at the caress of his breath against your folds.

With a dramatic sigh, he sat back on his haunches and looked up to you expectantly, though a faint smirk still tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s…a difficult four day walk to the other side – if we are lucky. And our guides are not friends of the French, the English, or the Americans. They are focused solely on their own cause and simply see the money and weapons they can gain through this endeavour as useful. We are a means to an end for them. Baggage to be delivered. There is no allegiance or alliance involved, do you understand?”

“What is their cause, then?” He tilted his head thoughtfully, fingers idly caressing the skin of your knee where they still rested.

“The overthrow of Francisco Franco in Spain, yet another Fascist. But promise me you will not be too trusting, alright? We have a cautious, monetary-based relationship with them. That is all.”

A cheeky grin tugged at the corner of his lips, and he leaned forward to kiss the inside of your knee. “Don’t you worry, gorgeous, not taking any of them to bed, I assure you.”

Your huff of minor annoyance dissolved into a whimper of pleasure as his tongue delved into your folds, his hands gripping your hips as he took full advantage of Françoise’s absence to wring an orgasm from you. He was still taking his time, savouring the fruits of his labour, when the scrape of her key in the first of the deadbolts sounded. Gently but firmly prodding him away with a foot to the chest, you retrieved your underwear from where it lay forgotten on the area rug, shimmying into it before resuming your seat on the sofa with a novel just as she opened the door.

Curt excused himself to the washroom, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you could only imagine just what he might get up to in there, as you stood to help your host with the bags of food she had returned with. Potatoes, mostly, a few sad carrots and a shrivelled head a cabbage, along several unlabelled cans. Shortly after Curt’s departure, a rather frazzled looking Charbon burst onto the scene, surely just released from his captivity in Françoise’s bedroom.

“Cheaper for the mystery.” She muttered in regards to the tins as you helped unpack it all in the kitchen, doing your best to ignore the fluttering echoes of pleasure in your lower abdomen. “Payment has been received, the pair of you are to arrive at the newspaper office just after curfew ends tomorrow morning. The paper delivery truck with take you to Saint-Girons on its regular route, supplies contained within.”

A swirling mixture of relief and trepidation filled your veins and you nodded quickly. “Thank you, Françoise, it has been a real pleasure, but I am sure you will be glad to see the back of us.”

“We are leaving then?” Curt’s hushed voice piped up from the doorway where he was now leaning, remnants of a flush still painting his cheeks, making you swallow thickly.

“First thing tomorrow.” You nodded.

“I’ll go check my bag.” He murmured, slipping off to his room as you turned to Françoise.

“We will make you a loaf of bread and I will send you with a can of beans.” She murmured, producing a tin from her pantry.

With a nod of deep gratitude, the pair of you set to work, using the subpar ingredients she had on hand to bake a heavy loaf of coarse bread to stash within your pack. Dinner was a quiet affair, assembled of potatoes, as usual, with the addition of a bean-and-cabbage stew, before you turned in early. Waking at three, each of you bathed and dressed, setting your rucksacks by the door as Françoise fed you one last breakfast. As soon as the clock hit five, you parted from the woman and her cat with cheek kisses and whispered well-wishes, winding your way through the chilled and silent streets to the appointed pick-up location.

As arranged, the canvas-covered delivery truck was waiting, the driver offering a boost to help you inside before loading bundles of heavily censored newspapers to be delivered to the smaller communities around Toulouse, including your meet-up point. Deep inside the truck, you found the winter clothing and accessories you had arranged for, a small smile of relief come to your face.

Sorting through the items, you took the boots in Curt’s estimated size, passing them to him before you shrugged out of your light coat and began to layer the wool trousers and heavy knit sweater atop your skirt and blouse. It was by no means a smooth ride, the roads around here well-worn, roughened dirt tracks in some places, making your wardrobe change less than easy, but once you were properly dressed with warm boots on your feet, you were indisputably more comfortable. Tucking your hair inside the knit cap to try and disguise your femininity, given that the Vichy had resurrected some ancient law that made it illegal for women to wear trousers, you stowed the scarf and mitts into your pack atop your shoulder bag and the rations. Quietly biding the remainder of your time through several stops at communities along the way, Curt eventually stopped looking to you each time the truck lumbered to a halt until at last the flap pulled back to reveal you were sitting on a bridge just outside the town of Saint-Girons.

“This is you.” The driver muttered and you nodded to Curt, the pair of you quickly climbing from the back to wait amongst the trees.

As the truck drove away, silence overtook the valley, the foothills of the Pyrenees looming to the south. A glance at your watch told you it was just before eight o’clock, and though the sun was well up it held very little warmth. The breeze rolling down from the mountains was even colder than the crisp of autumn, hinting at the ice and snow that surely awaited you at even higher elevations. You were about to dig through your pack to retrieve your mitts when the rustling of brush across the river halted your movements. Two faces, crowned by dark hair, peered out between the leaves, beckoning to you with a short, sharp whistle.

“Come on.” You whispered to Curt, stepping into the open and slowly making your way across the bridge to link up with them.

“Tomás,” the taller of the two introduced himself with a hand to his chest once you had reached them, “Diego.” He gestured to his shorter but more muscular companion.

“Marie, Curt.” You introduced the pair of you in kind, earning a nod.

“We go.” Tomás murmured and started off down a well-worn track, not even allowing you a moment to sort out the mitten situation.

Diego waited until the three of you were in motion before silently bringing up the rear.

“Here.” Curt muttered, passing you the mittens from the pockets of his wool coat after watching you bury your hands in your pockets, and you shot him a look of gratitude just as Tomás spun back to eye him coldly.

“Silence.” He snapped before resuming his brisk pace, clearly eager to put civilization behind your small group as quickly as possible.

Curt raised an eyebrow at you, and you pressed your lips together guiltily but did as instructed, well aware that you were no longer the guide – you were now simply another person desperately fleeing Nazi-occupied territory. And so your quartet walked in silence. Leaving all houses behind, you began a slow climb along a woodland trail, passing small communities below as you put one foot in front of the other for hours. Four hours, to be precise, of steady, gradual ascent before Tomás brought your group to a halt in a thicket of trees and pulled out a canteen to drink deeply.

“Ten minutos.” He uttered, barely winded, before stepping off to the side with Diego to engage a conversation in tones so low you could not hear them, even at this distance.

Setting your pack down, you pulled Curt’s mittens free as you sat heavily on a fallen log to unbuckle your bag and retrieve your own along with the parchment-wrapped loaf of bread, tearing him off a bite. Holding it out to him, your lips twitched fondly as he held out a flask – for that was the only liquid-holding container Françoise had been able to spare – filled with water. Trading your items, you took a sip as he quickly ate his snack. Handing the flask back, you grabbed a chunk of bread yourself, trying to ignore the throbbing on your heel, quite certain you were nurturing a blister in your new-to-you boots. The pair of you had just finished your small meal when Tomás nodded, all brusque efficient and urgency.

“We go.” Came his clipped command and you quickly closed your pack and secured it on your back, wearing your own mittens now as the endless walk resumed.

Risking a glance at your watch, you noted it was just after noon, the sun’s position almost directly overhead confirming as such. Your route began a minor descent, the land up here home to ranchers and rolling green pasture, before there was one final push upwards into a small farmyard as the sun was preparing to set. All told you had walked over eight hours, your legs feeling fit to fall right off your body by the time the four of you climbed into the hayloft of a weathered barn, wood gone grey with age. Just two rungs from the safety and comfort of the bed of hay, you were not quite sure if you could summon that last bit of effort.

The feeling of Curt’s firm hand shoving against your left butt cheek proved the be the last, necessary bit of impetus to push you up and over the edge. Crawling into the back corner of your sweet-smelling shelter, you settled in with a heavy sigh, letting your eyelids fall shut for an indulgent moment, only semi-aware of the movements of your companions around you. After an indiscernible amount of time, perhaps a few minutes or perhaps as many as thirty, Curt gently prodded you awake to offer you a slab of bread covered in thin slices of cured beef, a pair of apples cupped in his other hand.

“Eat, you’ll feel better.” He whispered and you nodded obediently, leveraging yourself up to regard to sudden feast with curiosity. “Farmer came out to check on us, brought us some food.” He smiled a little as you took the open-faced sandwich and one of the apples, watching him then settle in to sit beside you.

Picking up another for himself, he made a slow meal out of the bread you and Françoise had crafted along with the very locally sourced meat – something neither of you had seen in quite some time. Retrieving the flask from his pocket, he took a sip of water before offering you one as well. As you methodically polished off your dinner, you could not help but notice the studious and calculated glances Tomás and Diego were shooting your way.

On the surface, the seemed friendly enough, rather standoffish, but professional and efficient. Looking to Curt once you had eaten your share, you swallowed. “I’m going to sleep, thank you.”

He nodded slowly, his own gaze travelling over to your guides, entire body tensing as the action seemed to summon Tomás over.

“You two sleep. I sleep now. Diego watch. Then change. Seven tomorrow, we go.”

Nodding slowly, desperately trying to hide your exhaustion, you glanced at your watch and swallowed to note that it was only seven in the evening, and you were already struggling to keep your eyelids open. “Thank you.”

He nodded and moved back to their corner of the loft. You cast a soft glance to Curt before putting a respectable amount of distance between you two and nestled into the hay, almost immediately falling asleep. The next day, as you were crawling up a rain-slicked incline, fingers scrabbling for purchase on wet rocks and muddy terrain, you were glad you had taken the chance to rest as much as you had. Your group had reached such an elevation that you were practically walking amongst the clouds, barely able to see the path ahead, which would have meant certain death without your guides. They would never be your friends, but you would always owe them your lives.

You could feel the air growing thinner as you doubled your elevation, the rain changing to fluttering flakes of snow, your sodden clothes making you shiver in the dropping temperatures. Canteens and flasks were refilled as you came across a crystal-clear, yet icy cold lake, fingers still chilled inside your mittens hours later. Your shelter that night was a stone climbing hut, one of many which dotted the Pyrenees, built by enthusiastic climbing clubs in happier times. The small stove in the corner was purposefully left cold as, despite the known lack of border patrols along this route due to the rugged terrain and typically abysmal weather, it was prudent to attract as little attention as possible to your small group.

Instead, the four of you huddled back-to-back in a circle, wrapping up in mildewy but nonetheless warm blankets that resided in this shelter, sharing body heat as your breath hung in foggy clouds from your lips. Dinner consisted of cold beans from your can, shared four ways, and bread. Breakfast, more bread. Leaving your shelter with its mildewy blankets behind, you dragged your aching body out into the brilliantly white landscape the next day, gratefully accepting a walking stick from the ever-silent Diego. It was made of a dense wood, worn smooth by countless hands, all four of you carrying similar tools that became incredibly useful as you entered terrain of year-round ice and snowpack.

Feeling as though you had climbed straight up for over eight hours, while in actuality it was only an elevation gain of one thousand metres, you were unspeakably grateful as Tomás announced ‘we stop’ at another simple climbing hut. It was Diego, this time, who produced two tins of tuna, the language on the labels speaking to their origin in Spain, the protein a welcome addition to your dwindling bread before the four of you resumed your circular sleep set-up from the night before.

Up this high, 2245 metres above sea level, the shared body heat beneath even more pungent blankets was only enough to take the edge of the biting cold. You found it very difficult to control your shivers and as soon as the sun broke the horizon, Tomás was rousing you from your fitful sleep.

“We go…down…” His voice contained a touch of sympathy, and you could not help the small, hopeful smile at the thought that soon, soon you would be in Spain.

In safety. In relative warmth.

It did not mean your fourth and final day of the trek was easy, however. The landscape remained just as cruel and unfeeling, luring you downwards before forcing you to climb back up steeply. Diego’s first words since your meeting back on that bridge in Saint-Girons, however, were like a shot in the arm.

Traversing yet another stretch of dirt track with mountains towering above you, it felt no different to any other landscape before it, yet to him something had changed.

“España.” He murmured from behind and you inhaled sharply, looking back to him, eyes bright with hope, to which he nodded.

“Spain…Curt we’re in Spain…” You whispered, watching with delight at the brilliant grin that etched its way across his features hardened by exhaustion.

It was downhill from there, mercifully, the mountains falling away beneath your feet back into rolling hills. Homes began to dot the landscape again, the patchy snow yielding to the brown of late autumn grass. Of course, it was not as though you were completely safe here. Spain, though technically neutral, was not overly fond of people sneaking into the country illegally. If detained by Spanish police, Curt was at serious risk of being returned to the Nazis as a prisoner of war while you? If you were lucky, you would be handed over to the British, but most likely returned to France with only French papers on your person.

After learning this lesson the hard way, the Pat-now-Françoise and Comet Lines had both determined that escapees were not truly safe until they were in Gibraltar. Thus once they arrived in Spain, contact was made with the British Embassy in Madrid to arrange for transport in a diplomatic car through the dubiously neutral and espionage-riddled Spanish landscape. This was what you suspected Diego was managing as he peeled off from your group on the outskirts of Esterri d’Aneu, while Tomás continued on, leading you into a charming apartment building, taking you down to a suite in the basement.

Producing a key from the inside of his coat, he unlocked the door to the darkened space, leading you inside and turning on the lights once he had secured the door behind you.

“Rules – Curtains, closed. No noise. Bath ok. Knock on door four times is food. Car comes in morning from England embassy.”

“Gracias, Tomás.” You spoke as emphatically as your dwindling energy could muster and were rewarded by the tiniest of smiles from the serious man.

“Goodbye.” He nodded to both of you before leaving, the key tucked securely in his pocket, and you quickly locked the door behind him.

Struggling wearily with the straps of your rucksack, you looked to Curt softly as gently pulled your hands out of the way before taking over, sliding the heavy pack from your back to set on the floor, shrugging out of his own as well, before grasping your still-icy fingers.

“C’mon.” He whispered and dragged you through the apartment in search of something, stopping when he located the bathroom.

Guiding you to sit on the closed toilet seat, he turned on the tub faucet, adjusting the temperature to his liking before plugging the stopper then turning back to carefully begin stripping your clothes. Still beyond-cold and barely awake, you wordlessly complied, allowing yourself to be guided into the deliciously warm water as he shut the tap off. Leaning back with a dreamy sigh, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he stripped down to his undershirt and trousers before kneeling at the side of the tub to help you wash days of grime and effort from your skin and hair as the ice in your bones melted.

Slowly emerging from the sluggish state that the cold had induced, the way his fingers lingered on the raised mark on the back of your right arm made you lean up to press a tender kiss to his lips. “You should get it here, it’s miraculous.” You spoke in hushed tones and watched his throat flex as he swallowed thickly.

“You really are.” He whispered, the pink tinge to his cheeks driving home the fact that, for all your intimacy you had not yet been fully naked before him.

“It’s your turn.” You whispered, pulling at his belt, helping him out of his clothes before slipping from the still-warm water to wrap yourself in a nearby towel, grasping his hands to guide him into the tub which was sadly not large enough to hold both of you.

Taking up his position beside the tub, you ensured he was cleaned in turn, indulging in more than a few exploratory caresses before the water began to grow cold. Grabbing the second towel from its place on the rack, you held it out to him as he pulled the plug on the drain and stepped out to pull you close into a warm kiss. Navigating through the unfamiliar surroundings half-blind, the pair of you located the bedroom and took a moment to finish towelling off before diving beneath the inviting pile of blankets.

Limbs tangling immediately, your mouths met hungrily, repeatedly, after days of denial under unfamiliar and scrutinizing gazes. Gripping the back of your knee, he pulled your leg overtop his hip, grinding his cock along your ever-slickening folds until you where whining into his mouth. Obligingly sinking into your warmth, you welcomed him with a hungry moan, fingers buried in his hair as your bodies mirrored the push and pull to drive each other over the precipice of release, his cum coating your inner thighs thanks to a timely withdrawal at the last second as he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder.

Gasping for breath, covered in a delightful sheen of sweat, you at last felt well and truly warmed after your descent from the mountains. As his arms pulled you closer into his chest, lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, you felt a dangerous sense of contentment unfurl deep within your belly.

“I was clean.” You teased to chase it away, his resulting huff of a laugh ruffling your still-drying hair.

“I’ll take care of you in a minute, I promise.” Another kiss was pressed, this time to your nose. “Now that we’re free, can I please know more about you?” Curt pleaded, pulling back just enough to weaponize his piercing blue eyes against you.

At your hesitancy to even draw breath, he pushed onward. “Here, I’ll show you how its done since you’ve probably forgotten. I’m Curtis Rundle Biddick, son of Ernest and Delphia Biddick. Born 1915 in The Bronx, New York. I had three little sisters, but God saw fit to take little Elizabeth from us when she was just two. Ann and Charlotte still live with my mother, which is good because we lost our father when I was eight.”

As he spoke, you had been fighting the urge to clamp your hand over his mouth to shut him up. An urge born purely of the fear that he might succeed at chipping away completely at your already fragile defences and irrevocably entrench himself in your heart. Yet when he came to the loss of his father, there was an undeniable shift within you, a falling away of that need to keep him at arms length.

“So young…” You whispered, your fingers reaching out to affectionately trace along the scars that curled up the side of his neck, brow furrowing slightly as he eyed you with an alluring blend of intensity and patience. With a deep breath for courage, you released your tight grip on that final barrier between you and let it all pour out – your full name, your father’s lineage, your mother’s, the reason why you were in England when the Nazis invaded, just how your parents had met their end. As you spoke, his eyes grew impossibly wide, raking across your face as if trying to detect a lie in your surely absurd-sounding words. Unaware that tears had began to seep from your eyes, you jumped slightly when he reached out to brush them away with the backs of his fingertips before smiling softly.

Only to jump once more as four solid knocks resounded from the front door followed by eerie silence.

“That’ll be food.” He whispered and kissed you softly. “You stay, I go.” He muttered in a tragically accurate impersonation of Tomás that had laughter dangerously close to escaping your throat.

Watching his wonderfully naked figure slip from the cozy nest you had built, you deliberately disobeyed him, slipping back to the washroom to clean up and collect your clothes, returning to the bedroom just as he did. Taking both packs from his arm, you set them on the floor, digging out your nightgown to slid over your head, to match the trousers slung low on his hips. Diving back into the warmth of the bed, the pair of you settled in for a picnic of plentiful local foods, including several in-season vegetables and meats. Spain really was beginning to feel like paradise.

“Can’t believe you’re royalty…” He shook his head in awe before taking another eager bite of food.

Swallowing back a laugh you shook your head quickly. “Distantly related.” You clarified, taking a long sip of fresh water.

“Mmm whatever you say, princess.” He winked with a lopsided grin, reaching forward to wipe at the corner of your mouth with one of the cloth napkins packed in amongst the food.

Brilliant grins echoed one another’s across your humble feast, whispered questions traded back and forth as you could not help but want to know more about him and share more about yourself in kind. As you settled in for sleep, things tidied up, outfits hung up for the morning, you pressed a drowsy kiss to his throat before surrendering to the depths of sleep in the warmth of his arms.

Four sharp knocks awoke you early the next morning, a glance at your watch confirming it was just before six. Slipping from Curt’s protesting arms, you carefully retrieved breakfast, laying it out on the small table before getting ready for the day in the bathroom to hopefully avoid his interference in the name of efficiency. A sleepy and still half-dressed Curt awaited you at the table when you emerged, the pair of you eating quietly and then he went to the washroom to tidy himself for the day.

Setting your walking sticks and heavy winter clothes in the corner, you slid back into your lighter jacket given the warmer weather Spain was famous for, though you kept the scarf and mittens just in case. Moving to the bedroom, you had just finished tidying the bed when there were two knocks on the door, a number Tomás had not prepared you for. Meeting a fully dressed Curt in the hallway, you approached the door together, clutching your shoulder bag, peering through the peephole to see a man in a suit sporting a union-jack armband. Exhaling slowly, you unlocked the door.

“Your car is out front.” He stated quietly and the pair of you nodded quickly, grabbing your luggage and promptly following him out, realizing you had no way to lock up afterward, but not wanting to wait around to worry about it.

The black Fiat stood parked outside on the sleepy streets of the small mountain village, the driver quickly ushering you into the plush backseat where a basket sat on the floor. Climbing into the front seat, he seemed eager to get the vehicle in motion before addressing you once more.

“Sorry we cannot put your luggage in the boot, it is filled with petrol cans. There is food in the basket between you, we’ll only stop to refuel as needed, otherwise straight on to the Embassy in Madrid.”

Nodding your quick thanks, you watched out the windows quietly as the Spanish side of the Pyrenees melted away into flatter, more populated lands. The first refueling took place at a service station where you and Curt were permitted to make use of the facilities after some light coaching on the Spanish terminology, but you were all quickly back on the road again. It was not long before Curt was dozing, slumped against the car door and the peaceful sound of his deep breaths lulled you to sleep as well. The second refuelling was after a gentle prodding to rouse the pair of you, the boot only accessible by folding down your seats and the cans used to fill the fuel tank pulled off in the twilight in desolate countryside.

Taking advantage of the stop, the pair of you indulged in the delights of the food basket but were quickly asleep once the journey resumed. The clang of a gate awoke you sometime later, your surroundings altogether different, metropolitan, day having completely given way to a night lit up by streetlights which seemed altogether novel after years of blackout.

“We’ve arrived at the Embassy. For the moment you are on British soil. Please come inside while we prepare another driver to take you the rest of the way.” The driver pulled up to the front of a grand building beneath a portico, another formally dressed man stepping forward to open the door to the car.

Grabbing your things, you slid from the vehicle carefully and followed him inside, looking to Curt startled as the man stopped and gestured to a small sitting room. “In here please, miss. No, sir, you will follow me.”

Watching Curt’s face harden you quickly reached out to touch his arm reassuringly. “It is fine, they will want to confirm we are indeed who we say we are.”

Somehow, his frown only grew. “After everything you’ve done for ‘em…”

“Sir, Miss, if you please.” The well-heeled man in his perfectly pressed suit, not a hair out of place nor, surely, a meal missed interrupted in that cruelly polite English way and you narrowed your eyes in response before turning sharply into the appointed room and shutting the door firmly behind you.

It was a room of soaring ceilings, gilded moldings, finely upholstered furniture, and fringed lampshades. The paintings on the walls were only those of known artists. The Dowager Marchioness would have fit right in. To you it read as cold and impersonal, a room to impress and intimidate, not to welcome someone. Setting your worn and filthy pack on the ivory sofa, you sank into the plush cushions, desperate to get this over with.

After about twenty minutes they sent in a yet another impeccably dressed Embassy official, offering sandwiches and cigarettes. You were beginning to wonder if they did anything in Spain other than eat. Declining both, you got right into the meat of it, easily answering the key questions and explaining all aspects of your journey, confirming yourself as an agent of the SOE whose identity had been burned and thus was in desperate need of returning to England.

“Thank you for your indulgence, Miss, it shouldn’t be much longer before the car is ready to continue onto Gibraltar. Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

Shaking your head, you only asked to use to facilities, freshening up afterwards before being shown to where Curt was in a much more utilitarian office, busily tucking into a sandwich and sipping on a Coca-Cola.

“Knew they’d come ‘round.” He muttered once he had swallowed, and you smirked a little.

“How on earth are you hungry?” You shook your head affectionately, stealing a sip of his drink, closing your eyes slowly at the long-forgotten taste.

“M’not, just not sure when we’ll get something this good again, y’know?” He muttered defensively as he polished off the last few bites and you squeezed his shoulder softly because you truly could not argue with that.

A knock on the door summoned the pair of you back to the car, a different, younger driver behind the wheel to begin the drive to Gibraltar. It was still dark as you left the embassy behind, the orange splotches of the streetlights hypnotizing as you wound through the city out onto the road south. Always south. It would only be hours now, a day at most, before you were back on English soil for real. And then what.

Your eyes drifted back towards the man seated beside you, sleeping once again, head bobbing lightly as the car traversed the worn gravel roads. His life. Your life. While they had been so very unified over the past several weeks, they would inevitable diverge would they not? They would surely have to. The fact that you had been forced out of occupied Europe did not mean the war was over – not by any stretch of the imagination. There was still so very much to do to help liberate the people of your homeland – Dr Legot and his assistant Edda, the Maes boys, Tillens and his daughters. But also the people of France – Delphine and Hugo, Emile, Gilles, Victoire and her young son, Françoise…all their lives had touched yours, had become a part of yours. They had helped you escape, to stay alive. Turning your back on them now was inconceivable. You would find another way.

As the lights of the city receded in the rearview mirror, you eventually succumbed to sleep once more, waking only as the driver needed to access the boot to refill the petrol tank. Breaking into the fresh basket of food, you shared some sandwiches with the drowsy Curt on the roadside in the weak light of dawn before climbing back in to rest once more. The brilliant glare of the sun woke you next as the car wound through the city of Seville, another refuelling stop and bathroom break was undertaken before, at last, you were crossing the border into the British territory of Gibraltar. Driving past the airport, you pulled onto the military base.

Stretching your legs stiffly, you could not help but note how much warmer it felt down here, even though the sun had set a few hours ago.

“Lieutenant Biddick, right this way sir, we have a bunk for you amongst other escapees awaiting evacuation on tomorrow’s flight.” An RAF orderly stepped forward to great the car and you nodded to Curt as he glanced at you for direction.

Another man stepped forward to address you. “Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant McIntyre, please follow me, we have separation accommodations for you.”

“Thank you very much, Lieutenant.” You nodded, thanking him once again as he insisted on carrying your bag and you followed him in the opposite direction, glancing back at Curt as he disappeared into the night.

The room, if you could call it that, appeared hastily prepared – a cot in a back office with thankfully no windows. After spending nearly two days sleeping upright in a car, you were just pleased to have the chance to lay down.

“Washroom is just across the hall, there’s stationery on the desk if you want to write home. I will be back to fetch you at 0530 for breakfast, Ma’am.”

“I appreciate your help Lieutenant, thank you.” Nodding warmly as he dismissed himself, you stepped across the empty hall, surely bustling with humanity during regular hours, to prepare for sleep. Having no one to write home to, leastways not from Gibraltar or even London without raising terrible suspicions, you climbed onto the cot to sleep deeply.

You did not stir until Lieutenant McIntyre knocked at five-thirty, rushing into fresh clothing as the poor man waited in the hall, though he assured you it was no trouble. Pinning your hair back as you followed him to the mess with your handbag hanging from your shoulder, headscarf tied to the strap for use during the final leg of your journey. You were startled to see a table filled with men a dozen men, a cacophony of accents filling the room speaking to the fact that they were from all manner of hometowns. Curt seemed to be deep in discussion with three of them, speculating about their future assignments as you grabbed a tray to collect breakfast, your luggage set in the corner with the rest of the bags.

“But you know, Richie, we can’t just keep flying in the ETO, we know far too much about the escape lines to ever fall into German hands.” A young, nasal voice chided sharply.

“Pearson’s right an’ you know it.” Curt chimed in as you nodded to the man offering you a scoop of some dubiously textured eggs. “It’ll be flight school stateside…”

“Or the Pacific…all them gorgeous island girls…” Their friend with a remarkably deep voice for his diminutive stature chimed in and you suddenly found you did not have much of an appetite.

Accepting a slice of bacon and a cup of coffee nonetheless, you took an open seat at the end of the table to pick at your food, blinking at the appearance of a massive orange on the corner of your tray.

“Gotcha somethin’.” Curt beamed down at you, and you looked up at him, eyes wide with astonishment.

“How did you…” You whispered, picking up the rare piece of fresh fruit as though it was made of fine china.

“‘pparently, they grow around here.” He shrugged before looking over to his friends as they called his name.

“Thank you very much. You should go talk to them.” You nodded encouragingly, filling your mouth with food even though it tasted much like sawdust – and not just due to your inner emotional turmoil, the powdered eggs were truly atrocious.

You could feel Curt’s eyes on you, narrowed, hesitant, until that deep voice bellowed at him once more. “Yeah, alright Bergman, keep your panties on.” He hollered back, earning a smattering of laughs from both his friends and a handful of other men gathered at the table, before turning back to you. “We’ll talk on the plane.” He murmured lowly, just for your ears, before resuming his seat amongst the group.

Forcing about half of your food down, Lieutenant McIntyre and the Orderly from the night before appeared, announcing that it was time for your group to depart for the airfield. There was much excitement amongst the crowd, all of them bursting from their chairs and grabbing their luggage to rush out the door. Returning your tray with its unfinished food, you cradled the orange as you followed quietly, earning a seat at the very rear of the transport truck by taking it slower than the rest. Tucking the orange into your rucksack, you secured your hair beneath the silk scarf as the truck began to pull out.

It was a short drive today, retracing the roads almost to the border where just enough land had been reclaimed from the sea to build an airstrip. The streets were quiet, attesting to the fact that the majority of the civilian population had been evacuated, leaving only those with essential occupations and military personnel on this tiny peninsula. While the rest of the men were busy chatting away, you rode in silence, watching out the back as the scenery blurred by, already consumed by thoughts of what you might do to remain useful now that you were thoroughly exiled.

The vehicle came to a stop, jostling your distracted body into the man seated next to you, making you mumble an apology as you stood to climb down. A man dressed in British Naval uniform, a Captain if you remembered your rank badges correctly, appeared at the tailgate and offered you a hand. But it was when he greeted you by name that you nearly stumbled off the back of the truck and found yourself truly in need of it.

“Manfred Smythe, I’m a friend of your uncle’s – went to Eaton and then Oxford together. Allow me.” He offered his hand to take your rucksack and you handed it over to him in stunned silence, still trying to determine if this spelled utter disaster. “The plane is just this way, follow me.”

He urged you forward with a smooth gesture of his hand, and you nodded your thanks, walking quickly towards the large plane sporting four engines, gleaming silver in the morning sunlight. Casting a cautious glance behind you, Curt’s furrowed brow was pronounced and unmistakable, making your throat clench in unspoken apology.

“On loan from the Yanks, does a marvelous job of covering the distance between St. Mawgan’s and Gibraltar in just five hours.” Smythe’s voice snagged your attention again as he smiled and gestured you up the small set of stairs, tucking his cap beneath his arm to follow you onto the aircraft with room for twenty-one passengers and five crew. “Take a seat in the row of front, it has the most leg room.” He coaxed, tone still warm and friendly, but even the Gestapo could sound that way if they wanted to.

Shuffling along the aisle, you sank into the seat against the window on the left, watching him lift your bag into the cargo hold above before he sat next to you, talking about the weather as the rest of your cohort filed on. Curt, you noted, managed to secure the seat directly behind you. It was nigh impossible to determine what the purpose of any of this was, even as the door to the plane was shut and the engines roared to life one-by-one. It was not until you were leveling out, high in the air above the ocean, that he said anything of real substance.

“I must say it is nice to finally make the acquaintance of the Belgian niece ‘toiling away for the ATS in the wilds of Scotland.’”

The glint his in eye, mixed with the tone in his voice, made your stomach drop, leaving you with the sensation that you had somehow left it behind on the runway.

“Please do not fret, we are in…how best to say this…rather similar lines of occupation?” He quirked an eyebrow, the words jolting the sickeningly erratic beat of your heart into a more normal rhythm. “I can imagine you are feeling rather defeated right now – as opposed to the rest of the men on this flight. They have escaped.”

“I have failed.” You quickly rushed to complete his comparison with a nod.

“I can assure you that is untrue – for the majority of our set, failure is death in a ditch. While the location of your employment has changed out of mortal necessity, there is much you can yet do.”

Eyeing your nicked, uneven nails for a thoughtful moment, you suddenly turned to look him directly in the eye. “Do you really mean that or are you simply trying to soothe me in my hour of need?”

A furious set of rapid-fire blinks overtook Smythe for a moment before he chuckled in response, shaking his head. “I had been warned you were a bit of a livewire…you do not disappoint. While I was in Gibraltar for other reasons, I can assure you my presence on this flight is entire for the purpose of making good use of your talents for the remainder of this war and into the next if you so choose.” As you opened your mouth to question his use of the words ‘the next’ he shushed you with a minute flash of his palm. “We will discuss more in the car back to London. So, do tell me, how is the Dowager Marchioness these days?”

His ability to drone on rivaled that of the aircrafts very engines, surely a ploy to discourage any eavesdropping from risk of shear boredom. Yet his skill at donning the mantle of his upbringing like some kind of cloak of stealth was rather inspiring. You could still feel Curt’s seething presence at your back, making the hairs on your neck stand on end, the muscles of your shoulders aching with the desire to look at him, but to indulge in such an urge in front of a man like Smythe would be suicide – both socially and professionally, though it was the latter you were most preoccupied with at this moment.

Courtesy of a stiff tailwind, the flight was just shy of five hours, England welcoming you back to her shores with open arms of rain and mist as the wheels bumped down onto the tarmac to cheers of elation from your fellow passengers. Sliding slowly to your feet, the first sight that greeted you was the intense gaze of Curt, and you nodded softly in acknowledgement. Acknowledgement of his obvious distress at having been robbed a plane ride at your side and the yawning pit of dread that had opened up within your stomach. Following Smythe from the aircraft, you stopped on the wet cement of the tarmac.

“Captain Smythe, might I beg your indulgence just five minutes before we leave?”

He tilted his head, cap restored to its rightful place, somewhat protecting him from the rain. “I’ll go find my driver.” He replied after a moment of eyeing you skeptically.

Only once he had turned did you look to Curt who had come to stand at your side expectantly.

“Who the hell does that guy think he is…” He muttered bitterly, watching Smythe’s back recede.

“My superior, from what I can gather.” You swallowed and offered him a brave smile. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, Curtis Biddick of The Bronx, New York, wherever they send you next.”

His eyes snapped to yours sharply, a heavy weight settling over your chest as you slowly watched the realization that this was goodbye dawn across his face. “No wait, this, you’re really…”

“You have your job to finish, on the other side of the Atlantic, perhaps the Pacific even, and I have mine. Here.” The pained look of pain in his eyes made you gulp roughly against the bitter bloom of guilt in your breast.

“But we can keep in touch…”

“I can’t,” You voice trembled fractiously, and you clenched your jaw to summon the will to carry on, “promise anything, Curt. I cannot promise to write or even receive letters until this war is over for every single person who helped us get out of there.” Tears began to pool along your waterline as you reached up to tug at the knot holding your scarf in place. “I can promise that I will never forget you.” You whispered, slipping the square of silk into his pocket as cracks slowly began to etch their way across your heart.

He watched your movements, unspeaking, before suddenly reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve an envelope, tearing it open. He shoved the contents back into his jacket before forcefully depositing the ragged envelope into your coat pocket. You were vaguely aware of the sound of a vehicle approaching but found yourself unable to tear your eyes away.

“If you’re ever in New York, after you know, you’re done saving the world, look me up.” The shaky, hurt quality to his voice made you clench your eyes shut, tears spilling down your cheeks.

As the sound of his shoes striking the pavement reached your ears you forced them to open again, vision still blurred by tears, but clear enough to see him stalk away before turning back sharply. Within a few determined strides he returned to you, grasping the back of your neck and pulling you close for a firm, salty kiss. The sound of a car door closing firmly made you wrench back from his grip with a barely conceal sob before you darted through the precipitation to slide through the door held open by a uniformed driver beneath an umbrella into the backseat with Smythe.

Desperately fighting with your lungs to restore your shaky breaths to normal, you listened to Smythe instruct his driver to head to London with your head bowed. Doing your best to surreptitiously wipe away at the evidence of your tears, including the fresh ones that stubbornly continued to steal down your cheeks, with the frayed cuffs of your jacket, you were startled with Smythe offered you a fine linen handkerchief.

“It can be so terribly difficult when some of them get attached.” His voice was rather clinical about the whole thing, making you wonder how he would feel if he realized the one who had grown too attached was you.

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

Read The Epilogue

In My Blood Masterlist

Tag list: @precious-little-scoundrel, @luminouslywriting, @polikabra, @beingalive1

[spotlightlowlife]

Charlie and Lucifer have a disney counterpart

Ozzie and Bee too a little

There is a beloved and happily sidelined disney ruler who dispite having the occasional moments of power, may well be a keen candidate for 'all the fun and none of the responsibility' personified.

Who is none other than......

The Sultan of Aladdin.

Think about it and if you're not all to familiar, know that the sultan is a friendly, goofy, cute, supportive loving little dad

who doesn't want to 'work'. By work, I mean the dirty work that goes into being a leader. Those tough decisions that will undoubtedly be unpopular among some.

This guy leads a nation, yet right from the start, the moment Jafar, the villain, his adviser, shows up with work, the jolly sultan shows the exasperation of a child being asked about their homework.

Though when it comes to going along with his teenage daughter wishes, sweet and idealistic as they are but realistically would have repercussions, he's down for it, because his daughter is his princess and her happiness is his happiness, end of story, everyone is happy.

He was clearly born into power.

Who was born or spawned into power?

Lucifer.

Someone who fell into his own dimension where his mysterious, probably problematic estrained wife who married into power, thrives or thrived. He is pride, the leader of 7 sins, who runs the pride ring but dies he really? He is shown to have no pride but it's OK because he's depressed.

Lucifer is a cute, silly little dad whose daughter is the apple of his eye and ultimately, Charlie gets what she wants, because if it makes her happy, it makes him happy.

Though like sultan he's right there as his precious daughter stands by a con artist who feels entitled to her (and the lifestyle she can provide him with clearly).

The other 6 individuals rule their sins and namesake regions, who like Lucifer are 'nice', can too be selective over what areas of their sin they choose to acknowledge.

Valentino is pretty much Ozzie's evil, very productive twin, some sinner a micro fraction of his age.

Bee could be a spokesperson for addiction awareness, but will she do more than speak, at the loved ones to pull an intervention?

All whilst being the one encouraging the overindulgence.

Let us not forget two small time demons who link both Ozzie of lust and Bee of gluttony together. Substance addicted Barbiewire and Verosika. We may not have seen a lot of them but like Valentino, they achieved plenty.

Barbie can travel freely to earth using one if Ozzie's crystals in order to smuggle hard d rugs. Job made easier by seducing a teenager.

Non-con welcoming Verosika travelled to earth to influence a load of youths with her team of fellow sexdemons.

She also bough beeljuice along with her which caused a massive scene.

Who will regulate such frowned upon actions?

Now back to new leader and leading character of her series, Charlie.

Like sultan, Charlie has help

in the form of someone she atleast knew to be sinister when she took him on. Someone who hardly hides his much they want what their boss has. That someone ofcourse being Alastor

who like Jafar would be of a lower social class, work hard, gain power and influence and be willing to scheme and sleaze his way into that powerful family.

Like sultan, Charlie is happy, nice, silly, dismissive to what it doesn't suit her to address, irresponsible, is being carried along in leadership

and is quick to see everyone as wonderful and equal without stopping to think that those who sit at the top may do something about such pushes.

Aladdin gets away with it being a family film where we follow the Alastor/Aladdin character in getting what they want, but Hazbin and Helluva, hopefully time will tackle some holes.

[mononokevalley]

Agane

In the captivating land of Friuli Venezia Giulia, the legend of the Agane—also known as Anguane—unfolds across a tapestry of mystical landscapes, each season offering a unique glimpse into these enigmatic water nymphs.

Faedis in autumn is a scene of vivid transformation. The chestnut forests are ablaze with hues of orange and gold, while the first snow delicately brushes the fir trees, creating a surreal, picturesque setting. As twilight descends, the mist rising from the springs and the Cascate Gemelle—the Twin Waterfalls—casts an enchanting shroud over the village.

It is during these misty evenings that the Agane—ethereal water nymphs clad in white—are said to appear. Their haunting beauty and playful nature lure those who captivate their interest to the riverbed. There, their captives remain until dawn, when the Agane erase all memories of the night’s events, leaving them bewildered yet unharmed.

In Torreano, nestled in the Colli Orientali, winter brings a starkly different atmosphere. The narrow, rugged valley is blanketed in snow, and the Grotta Foràn di Landri, hidden in the forested terrain, becomes a place of mystical significance. According to local legend, the Agane—ancient and wild female figures—inhabit this cave. As night falls, the mist rising from the icy stream forms a dense fog that envelops the area. Here, the Agane are believed to dwell, their melodic whispers and ghostly songs adding to the otherworldly ambiance.

Spring in the Colli Orientali brings renewal to the rolling hills and lush vineyards. The mist that rises from the valleys takes on a delicate, spectral quality. During this season, the Agane are said to emerge from the mist, their ghostly beauty harmonizing with the blooming landscape. They lead intrigued individuals to the riverbed, where they stay until dawn.

In Tramonti di Sopra, high in the Carnic Alps, summer provides a dramatic Alpine backdrop. The verdant forests and rugged terrain, bathed in summer warmth, are enveloped by a dense fog rolling in from the mountains. The term Agane, or Anguane, is derived from the Latin aquileiese, meaning “water nymph,” and reflects their role as spirits of water sources such as springs, rivers, and streams. They are represented in various ways—sometimes as youthful, attractive maidens, and other times as lively, older women. During full moon nights, the Agane gather for moonlit dances, clad in white garments which they later hang out to dry under the lunar light. These beings are known to protect fishermen, assist in tasks like wool processing and cheese-making, and inspire dreams in children.

Historical accounts

In Povoletto, historical accounts from 1873 describe the Agane as ethereal figures dressed in white, performing dances under the full moon before disappearing into the mist.

This portrayal fits with broader folklore, depicting the Agane as elusive and enchanting beings whose beauty and playfulness make for both mesmerizing and bewildering encounters.

[eyeris-moni]

Worried

Hallo >:3c I did finish this small snippet of writing ovo)b

Characters: Cupid and Slender

One shot!

Summary:

Cupid visits his old friend to catch up and ask for a favor.

___________________________

Cupid pulled out the cigar from his mouth, with one last exhale. Then without flinching, the huge looming cryptid put it out in his own palm.

The illuminating embers from the cigar were choked out, leaving a trail of smoke, before Cupid slipped the remaining cigar into an inner pocket for later.

The handle clicked, causing the old wooden door to faintly creak on its hinges as it pushed open and revealed the entirely pitch black hallway beyond the door frame.

Without knocking on the door in front of him, he quietly tried the handle.

If he was welcomed, he'd be let in after all. Besides, there was no reason to wake anyone up by making unnecessary sounds, late into the night. An attentive, and easily alarmed bunch these residents were.

Cupid bowed to fit through the door, however once he was inside there was plenty of space to stand upright in. He closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, scanning the interior over.

In these last couple of years, Cupid had visited this mansion much more frequently, yet it was still infrequent enough that he wasn't used to the place.

Both in terms of the layout and look of the mansion, but of how it felt.

Or perhaps– there was no individual life beneath that old, dark wallpaper. Maybe it was simply an extension of The Slenderman himself.

How this place was less of an inanimate object and almost a living, shifting creature. So large that you didn’t notice its heartbeat and breathing unless you paid close attention to detail.

Cupid had never asked about it.

He did however know that if he was allowed inside, then Slender would most likely allow him into the basement too.

Where else was Cupid supposed to be? Roam around on his own in the mansion with all of Slender's kids? As if the ancient being would ever let him do so for long.

Cupid as an entity was tolerated, but clearly not entirely trusted with the other residents' safety.

He stopped by the one door which had a doorknob instead of a handle.

Walking through the dark hallway, the carpet beneath muffled his steps completely. The rug had likely seen far better days, being that it was stained with blood and mud. Cupid's gaze drifted from door to door, yellow eyes searching for the right one to go through.

Well, to call it a door knob, might be a bit generous.

The dark, knotted bundle of roots did look like a sphere, if you squinted.

Cupid was pretty sure this hadn't been where this door had been last, but he didn't remember for sure.

What he did remember though, was that this doorknob always led him to Slender; to the basement.

The wooden steps creaked beneath his large size. Not particularly loudly, but it was very audible in this silence.

Cupid did enjoy it, back out amongst humans, he was inconveniently large. That being said, it did take a moment to adjust to the new scale.

Cupid's clawed hand rested on the tall bannister as he walked.

The room, the steps, the bannister - it was all made for something much larger than a mere human. It was taller, sturdy - made for something as large as them to be comfortable in.

'What are you doing here.' Slender's voice rung in his head, as soon as his shoe touched the flooring. 

Roots hung from the ceiling in such numbers that they practically made up the ceiling as well. Cupid eyed them, knowing that if anyone unwelcomed somehow managed to find their way here, they would not survive those.

As unassuming and still as they looked, they could strike and wrap like starving snakes.

Behind the stairs, at the seating area, the familiar face– or well, the familiar lack of face, remained seated in the dark red armchair. The lamp beside Slender illuminated his elongated frame in a warm, orange glow.

"Must I always come with a reason~?", Cupid's deep voice called back, as he pinpointed Slender's location in the basement.

The tall pale creature had its head turned down to the pages of a book, despite having no visible eyes to read the words with

'Yes.' Slender said.

Judging from the quiet, somewhat relaxed monotone of Slender's voice, Cupid assumed he wasn't in a bad mood currently. Which was good - Cupid would much prefer catching him in a decent mood, especially when he was here to ask something of Slender.

"I bring new books", Cupid hummed. He reached a hand into the large fluff around his neck, to pull out one after the other, stacking them in his free hand.

"Here you are", Cupid said, placing them on the table, before he sat down on the couch opposite Slender.

To this, Slender slightly lowered the books, turning his blank face towards Cupid. He didn't say anything as Cupid kept piling though.

'Extra books', Slender noted.

"Is there?", Cupid asked, pretending he didn't know. He did know, of course.

'The same as last you asked', Slender said, sliding a bookmark into the book on his hand, before he put it away.

Cupid shifted on the couch and laid down in the furniture, which pleasantly could fit the entirety of his tall and broad size.

"How has it been?",  Cupid asked, making himself comfortable.

"Really, nothing has changed?", Cupid asked curiously, "what about your new resident?". He had noticed the familiar aura, somewhere above them.

Slender grabbed the top book from the pile. He looked it over, then put it down, before checking the next.

'Mhn. Yes.', Slender confirmed, 'Jeff moved Raz in'.

Cupid looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I sense you might not agree with that decision?", Cupid hummed. Of course Slender had accept to some degree. Had he not wanted it, the colorful bunny cryptid would not be inside the mansion.

Cupid's yellow eyes drifted back to the expressionless face.

Slender placed the next book down on his second pile a bit harder.

His hand stayed on top of it for a moment.

The conversation paused for a moment.

"You feel complicated about it?", Cupid gently ventured to guess.

'...I might have taken too long', Slender said.

Cupid let out a low, drawn out hum.

He had asked Slender about this 'Raz' before. Such as, why Raz was living outside the mansion, even outside the clearing, which was likely the safest place in the forest.

Slender wasn't a doting guardian, but he never seemed picky about the company he adopted. 

Back then, Slender had cited Raz's power as being an issue - a worrying mixture with the household. Cupid could see sense in that.

And yet an entity as friendly as Raz hadn't been taken in.

As much as Slender never really said it, he wanted to make sure the entities were safe here. It was the reason he had made a home here in the first place, Cupid was pretty sure.

"You feel bad about not taking the kid in sooner", Cupid said, brushing his golden claws through his neck fluff. "But likewise, taking him in earlier might have caused issues with the other kids.

I think you did the right thing, waiting as much as seemed right", Cupid noted. 

Slender finally moved his hands onwards, to look through the rest of the pile of books.

Sometimes Slender seemingly wanted to say something, but then he wouldn't.

For some reason, Slender preferred halting the entire conversation, instead of perhaps, lying or sidestepping the issue. It was charming in its own right.

He'd just be silent, as if the words would eventually and naturally come out, but Cupid was used to them simply not doing so.

Cupid had over their relationship just gotten used to guessing what Slender was thinking. It worked fine most of the time.

'Jeff did not agree. He thinks I've been waiting too long', Slender remarked, as he checked the next book over.

'I suppose so', Slender answered, '... Did you buy this book from a library?', he asked as one of his thin fingers brushed over the library scan code.

"Times feel longer to mortals after all", Cupid said, "he's seeing it from a much slower point of view". The way humans thought about things, oftentimes clashed with the way entities like him and Slender did.

"Besides, it's not as if you can change the past - just make the most out of the present. Raz doesn't strike me as someone who is hard to please", Cupid said, ignoring Slender's question.

'Cupid.'

Cupid figured Slender probably didn't indeed. From what Cupid understood, Slender was not a huge proponent of stealing.

"Yes?",

'Did you... ', he removed his hand from the scan code. 'Perhaps I don't want to know', Slender corrected himself. He leaned back in his arm chair finally, hands folded in his lap.

'Thank you', Slender said.

'Oh you're welcome - most of the books really weren't difficult to locate", Cupid teased and waved the matter away with his hand.

Slender of course hadn’t been thanking him for the books, but neither of them remarked on it.

'How have you been?', Slender asked in turn.

"Very well - My latest fascination caused some rather big trouble up north", Cupid sighed. His deep voice immediately took on a pleased, dreamy quality to it. "It got a bit messy, but I don't really control the direction of the force", he chuckled humored.

Cupid looked at the ceiling, then closed his eyes halfway, "Oh, you should've seen it. Not that it would have been your taste, of course", Cupid grinned.

To Cupid, this was his purpose, his everything. The continued steps that made immortality worth living. But to Slender, it was likely nothing at all.

"Mhn?",

He hummed pleased, letting his eyes fully shut as he recalled the event that had gone down mere hours before.

Cupid pressed his palms together, feeling the light electricity beneath his skin that made his hands vibrate.

The rush of adrenaline and excitement.

'And?',

'Are you not going to elaborate?', Slender asked. Cupid turned his head towards him slightly, opening one eye, 

"oh, I didn't want to bother you. Do you want to hear about it?", he offered. 

'It would not bother me', Slender simply said. 

Cupid grinned appreciatively at the ancient creature's attempt to be social. It didn't used to be like this, but now it was. He appreciated the indulgence, even if Slender got nothing out of it.

About how love felt - how it flavored and entangled all other feelings one felt. Like instruments of an orchestra it harmonized and played into each other as the emotions kept swelling.

It didn't matter that Slender didn't talk much, nor that he had nothing much to add or comment on when Cupid talked. Once Cupid started talking about this particular topic, he could go on and on and on.

And oh, how he did.

How he loved it. 

How each time Cupid shot someone, he felt how his own blood fractionated itself in his target’s veins- felt how the individual's personality dictated the narrative- dictated the direction and flow of love.

He felt it pulse,

connect,

In a way only true emotion could do, between living people. 

How Cupid loved feeling the sensation of thousands of moths flutter, crawl and writhe beneath his skin– between layers of flesh until–

The glow from his yellow eyes reflected in his gold claws.

Cupid pushed the back of his hand against his mouth, silencing himself from his continued talking.

He let out a muffled chuckle between closed lips.

"Mhn, I best not indulge too much right now", Cupid breathed out, finally noticing just how much his voice seemed to vibrate. 

He looked over at Slender, who patiently and quietly sat there, watching him.

It was reassuring, knowing someone else could've helped out, if Cupid ever did slip. 

'Sounds very foreign', Slender said.

Cupid let out a laugh at the notion, "It is, I am sure", he agreed. 

Getting to talk about these sorts of things was not something Cupid did frequently. Not because he was like Slender and didn't talk much, but more so because he didn't have anyone else he talked to about matters like this. 

Well, it likely didn't matter much.

Despite their differences, Slender was the oldest friend Cupid had. There was an unspoken deep trust and comfort in that - even when Slender didn’t seem to care about Cupid.

It was nice, calming. Not that Cupid had been scared or uncomfortable per say, something had just--...

'I would not mind', Slender answered. 

"Would you mind if I stayed a couple of hours?", Cupid finally revealed the reason he was here.

This was by no means an odd request - usually he stayed here for a couple of hours anyway. However, Cupid didn’t want to simply assume as much.

Cupid smiled and nodded, "appreciated. I promise you I won't be extending my visit further - I need to cocoon soon anyway~", he said, before sitting up briefly to slip his shoes off.

'What are you doing here?', Slender asked, once more asking the initial question he had greeted Cupid with.

He grabbed another pillow, placing it under his broad back to lay better.  Cupid was going to fully enjoy being able to simply lay on a couch that could fit him.

Cupid closed his eyes, "I just needed a place to retreat to", he finally answered.

'Why', Slender asked. 

"Because of the mess up north that I told you about", Cupid snickered gently.

There was a brief silence. It wasn't tense, simply the kind of silence that frequently happened when calmly talking to Slender.

Eventually Slender picked up his book again.

'You do not usually retreat like that after shooting someone.

From what you described about this incident, I see no reason why that would have changed', Slender remarked. 

The comment caught Cupid a bit off guard, mostly because he was surprised that Slender seemed to have listened enough to take note of such.

Cupid's gaze simply stared at Slender for a moment, thinking about what to answer.

He hummed thoughtfully.

"After incidents like these, I tend to get a bit...", Cupid trailed off, thinking about how to put it. Slender likely already knew what he meant though. "Excited, euphoric", he settled on. Slender gave off a faint nod, or at least Cupid thought he might have. "However, as the full moon is approaching, I am feeling a bit less focused and in control than usual from this high", he said. "It's not a big deal - in fact it's rather pleasant, feeling it permeate", Cupid grinned. 

He lifted a clawed hand, scratching his nose bridge. 

"Normally I would simply find a good spot and cocoon before time", he said, then paused thoughtfully. "But I'm getting the feeling I shouldn't. My gut says something is off. So I thought I'd stop by here and calm down a bit - clear my head, so to speak".

His words made Slender look up from his book again,

'What seems to be 'off'?', Slender inquired.

Cupid's brows knitted together, as if thinking about it a bit more thoroughly. He hummed slowly. "Mhn-", he snapped his fingers, "like I'm being watched - but not in a good way", Cupid said.

'what would 'being watched in a good way' even– don't answer', Slender once more corrected himself.

Cupid chuckled, "I don’t suppose I am feeling afraid but...", he tapped his claws against his chin, "I don't feel as safe as normally. That's all", he shrugged.

'Are you being hunted?', Slender asked bluntly.

"I haven't sensed anyone, so I doubt that. However my judgment right now is not at its best~", Cupid did agree, "I don't think it's an issue as long as I get time to clear my mind a bit".

'And how do you suppose you will do that, when a full moon is approaching.', Slender asked.

Cupid eyed Slender and offered him a slightly warmer smile, "There's still time. I have time to find somewhere to rest. Even if one of those cryptid killers found me, it's not like I am defenseless while in my cocoon", he shrugged.

There was another moment of silence.

'You are not cautious enough', Slender said.

"What's that, are you worried about me~?", Cupid chuckled and winked.

Cupid was about to continue talking before he paused, seeming to take in the answer. Huh.

'Yes.', Slender said.

He smiled, flattered and appreciative, "Ah", he breathed out, "I'm sure I'll be fine, Slender".

'Where do you plan on hibernating?', Slender continued nonetheless.

Cupid inhaled slowly, knowing that the other cryptid likely wouldn't be satisfied with his answer, "I haven't really thought about it - somewhere isolated".

'Somewhere unplanned, unprotected and isolated from aid.', Slender rephrased.

"Say, what's that book you're reading?", Cupid said, nudging his head in the direction of the book that Slender hadn't turned a single page off, ever since he had picked it up again. Cupid’s very blunt way of changing the subject was not accepted though.

'Cupid.', Slender said firmly.

"What is it?", Cupid’s eyebrow raised in both a teasing, yet challenging manner, "what exactly do you want me to do about it, hm~?".

Slender paused - Cupid waited patiently.

Slender hadn't always been this worried about these sorts of hunters. While Cupid liked the idea that Slender just suddenly cared for him enough to be so concerned, he did get the impression that that wasn't entirely the case. Slender knew something he didn’t.

And Cupid was certainly curious about it.

'You could stay here for this full moon', Slender offered.

Cupid laughed humored and suddenly at the unpredicted offer.

It seemed like an absurd offer.

Interesting.

Huh.

Interesting.

Slender had never offered something like that and Cupid had never stayed over like that. 

What was it Slender worried so much about, that suddenly made it acceptable for Cupid to be near his children?

It tickled his mind, intrigued him greatly. Cupid wanted to understand him.

"I could, If you think that's a good idea", Cupid said. He wasn't going to say no to an offer of being around Slender.

Even if he had felt entirely safe outside these forests, he was far too curious. In a way, he suspected that Slender knew this too and used it to his advantage.

Slender turned his face to his book, seemingly signaling that he was going back to reading.

Cupid stared at him for a long while, curious eyes drawn to the lack of expression.

This was nice. He liked this changing personality of Slender's. Obviously in part for selfish reasons - it clearly seemed to benefit Cupid.

It suited Slender to care more, to care for others. 

But a life without care, a life without love was hollow. It was nothing.

So despite Cupid not understanding, he could appreciate that Slender signaled that this was of importance to him.

Cupid stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes.

It really made Slender a lot more lovable in turn as well.

[s-creations]

Comes in Waves - Free Day

Entries for the 2024 RadioStatic Week.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags: Cursing, Angst, Fluff and Angst, I'll try and write a good mix of both happy and sad, They're both idiots when it comes to love.

Alastor was an individual who liked to be in control. 

When he was alive, it was the ease at which he could go with finding his next kill. The enjoyment and thrill of planning, executing, and learning from each endeavor. It was listening to the latest reports on his murder sprees and squirming with delight in knowing the authorities had no clue as to what they were doing when trying to catch him. Above all, it was Alastor using his appearance and twisted words to make anyone follow him. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. If he found them interesting enough, he could ensnare anyone. Alastor knew he had the face that easily stuck out from a crowd but looked so ‘innocent’ that he’d been off the radar before too long. He held the right *ahem* coloring to be either someone’s greatest sinful thought or territorial fantasy. His voice was easy on the ears that carried a vocabulary that would make even a politician be stunned into silence. The promises that Alastor could offer brought any needy soul to his doorstep. 

People were easy to fool. Trick. Manipulate.  All met with a treat of something that Alastor would never produce for them. Because they were playthings. Mere toys for him to mess around with until he grew bored and realized the other had outgrown their usefulness.

They were all so desperate to see what he could provide. 

Too bad for them, a good idea of a ‘thrust’ was vastly different from what Alastor was after. 

When he’d arrived in Hell, Alastor didn’t feel all that much had changed. The difference this time being his rather smug attitude and indifference made other demons believe he was a walking joke. Someone who would be dead dead within the month of his fall because he’d be careless and crossed the wrong person. 

Oh, how foolish. 

All they had given him was another form of manipulation. Another element of surprise. 

Another element of control.

When he’d taken down his first Overlord, Alastor spent 10 minutes, standing in that alleyway, laughing. Laughing his head off as if he’d been told the best joke ever. The sound seeming to echo through the relatively quiet area of Hell.

He didn’t think it’d be that easy. Surely someone who’d claimed to be so powerful and spent so much time putting Alastor down, that must have meant something. Right? Mayhaps Alastor was far stronger than even he realized. Did that matter? No. Because it allowed him to pull the rug out from others far faster than he originally planned. 

He just needed a little more power. 

Just a bit. 

Enough to have a gaggle of underlings to constantly mock, enough screams to provide proof of what he’d done, and power to keep himself among the elite. 

But never call him an Overlord. 

Oh no.

No.

He was something better. 

Something that would be feared by and nervously watched over.

He was the Radio Demon. 

He had control. 

This place was made for him and he was going to take full advantage of it. 

.

.

.

And the Vox arrived.

Truthfully, their first encounter was a chance one. Built off of the fact Alastor just so happened to be walking by an alleyway. Which just so happened to be filled with the very gang that had called him out at least a week ago for a ‘fight’. Who just so happened to be focusing on a new arrival instead of how the air was suddenly filled with static. 

Well, who was Alastor to pass up just a wonderful opportunity? 

It was barely a fight. But Alastor was able to get his blood flow quota in and was counting it as a good cap for the afternoon. His enjoyment of slaughter came to a halt when he finally saw the new arrival. 

Well, it actually ended when there wasn’t a single gang member still alive. 

Semantics.

The point still remains that Alastor was a little…taken aback with seeing the other. He’d become painfully aware of the rise in technology and the new things being produced back on the living world. Mainly for the fact those same movements were making their way down here. It made it a little harder to remind everyone of the proper form of media and entertainment. But just a little. He was still able to hijack a lot of equipment that worked on similar frequencies and waves. 

The fact was for the quick growth Hell was experiencing, there weren’t a lot of sinners that were closely tied with technology. Some did have little parts of their form changed. Maybe they had a cable that produced from their neck. Or their eyes were actually light bulbs. Small changes such as that were pretty common. 

However, having a giant as all could be television for a head was…different. Drastic. It had Alastor pondering what that fellow had gone through before passing away to deserve that as his form for an eternity. 

Not to be overly bothered by it, Alastor had sent the new arrival on his way. Providing directions to Cannibal Town and Rosie’s name to guidance before departing. With the mind that he’d never been seeing the other again. The city was big afterall. And Alastor had other worries than that of the physical formation of new technology. 

Except it wasn’t that easy. 

It felt that Alastor was running into the heavy headed demon almost on a weekly basis for how often the other just…appeared. The Radio Demon couldn’t conclude that the other was stalking him. Afterall, said demon looked just as surprised to see Alastor when they’d meet up once more. With an air that couldn’t be faked. Just wonderful happenstance that would bring them together. 

Truthfully, Alastor attempted at first to keep the other at a safe distance. He didn’t want to have to worry about the information provided by another demon. He had enough on his plate. Plus, having a ‘partner’ of any kind made his skin crawl.

Yes, Rosie and he were friends. That was a bond created by necessity as the female cannibal was the reason Alastor was even here still.

Just as with the other demon…

It didn’t matter. Alastor didn’t want it. 

Too bad the other demon seemed impervious to Alastor’s clear warning signs. Or just didn’t care overall. He’d happily provided his newly, self appointed name (“Vox, has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”), how he’d accidentally both shocked another sinner and plunged a city block into a black out (“Electricity based powers, who knew?”). At each turn, Alastor put up an air of clear indifference. Offering a small hum or a condescending “How interesting.” in hopes that his want of space would be recognized. 

Much to his annoyance, Alastor still ran into Vox by random chance. And Vow was always happy to see him.

The first time Alastor had shown any kind of interest in what Vox was managing, he should have run. He should have physically put as much space between them as possible. Because he should have recognized he would start his descent into wanting the other around.

Alastor had found Vox in one of the many parks Hell seemed to spawn. This one in particular spouted a rather impressive lake that was a deep red yet somehow was still able to reflect the sky above clearly. His afternoon walk of terrorizing and hunting was put on pause when red eyes flickered over to a familiar form sitting by the edge of said water. 

Vox was hunched over. Working furiously on something in his hands that Alastor couldn’t see from this point. 

Now, the Radio Demon wasn’t a stranger to the things Vox could make. Namely pieces of technology and electrical doodads that Alastor had no interest in. The radio was a fine invention and the rotary phone worked wonders. Why push for more? Seemed like an annoyance, if anyone had been so kind as to ask Alastor his opinion on the matter. 

What had caused Alastor to pause that day was the fact that he couldn’t find one scrap of mechanical what-not near Vox. Instead, a pile of some kind of shaving was resting at his feet. Steadily growing as Vox continued to work.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Alastor crept forward. Stunned for a moment in realizing that Vox was actually whittling. Slowly carving away at a piece of wood instead of trying to bash two pieces of mechanical equipment together. Alastor couldn’t see what the other was making. He could tell that Vox was putting as much effort into it as possible. 

“Well, what do we have here?” Alastor finally broke the calm. 

Vox gave a yelp that, later on, he would deny vehemently that he’d ever make such a noise. As it was, he merely stood up and quickly hid what he’d been working on behind him. So quickly that Alastor momentarily believed that the poor demon had stabbed himself with the knife, with how uncaring he’d been about its placement. 

“Alastor!” Vox shouted out. He coughed and cleared his throat before continuing, “Hey…you, um, what are you doing here?”

“I feel that I should be asking you the same thing. Don’t you have a studio or something for you to work at? Yet you picked by the side of a lake to create something. How interesting.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t want to be crammed in there all day. I may like to work, but I’m not that crazy.” Vox gave a weak shrug, still holding his hands behind his back. “A change of scenery is nice. I…didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Afternoon strolls do wonders to keep my mind clear. But don’t be changing the subject to me. I would think that your delicate equipment and electrical pieces wouldn’t work well around water.”

Alastor’s brow raised as he watched in silent fascination as Vox’s screen flickered for a brief moment. Showing snow before settling back down to his facial features once more.

“...It’s not something electrical that I’m working on.” The Media Demon offered weakly.

Which only peeked Alastor’s interest more. “Well, you can’t just leave me hanging with that statement. Let me take a quick gander at what you’re working on?”

“I mean- It’s not that important! Just a little hobby I picked up, stupid really. You’ll just…laugh.” 

“Well, I am in the mood for a good chuckle.” 

“That’s not what I mea- Hey!”

Vox’s panic grew when a shadow tendril emerged from the ground and wrapped around what he’d been hiding. He made no move to gather it back as it was deposited into the awaiting Radio Demon’s hand. 

Whatever Alastor had been expecting…it wasn’t this. 

It was a small wooden figure, mainly that of a deer resting on what was just a lump of wood. The creation was only partially finished with the majority of the focus being on said deer. Even with how little had been created, the details that Alastor could see were impressive, to say the least. He was taken aback for a moment to think that someone so reliant on technology as Vox would take up a hobby, an interest, such as this. 

“Is…it bad?”

Alastor blinked a few times, realizing rather late that he’d been quiet for a few minutes as he’d looked the figure over. Vox’s tone of anxiousness pulled him back over to the Media Demon. 

“I…can’t give proper judgment on this,” Alastor started, “Afterall, you’re…clearly not finished yet. I do like what I see so far… When did you take up carving?”

“A while ago,” Vox answered as he drew closer, “I wanted something to do with my hands that was just building the latest…whatever. Don’t get me wrong, I like what I make. But it can be so..boring, exhausting, I get stuck in a rut and…I just wanted to create without having it needing to be the best thing ever.”

“Yet you asked for my approval?”

“You don’t demand things from me.”

Oh.

Alastor felt himself tense slightly as an unfamiliar feeling seemed to grow in his stomach. Which only became worse when Vox reached out to take his creation back and their fingers brushed together. 

The Radio Demon cleared his throat. “You seem to have started off strong.”

“You don’t think this is stupid? You know…carving wood?”

“When you say it like that, yes. If you don’t want people to judge you for what makes you happy, then you need to create an air of indifference.”

Vox frowned softly, “But…I need feedback to grow better.”

“Ah, but there’s a difference between feedback and someone being an ass.” Alastor’s smile softened hearing the other snort, “You don’t need my approval, or anyone else's, to do what makes you happy. Constructive criticism is not a bad thing.”

“Besides, I think you’ve found something that will help you become…well rounded. Get you away from your constant need for flashing lights and screens.”

Vox laughed softly, “I’ll admit, it is a nice break… Thanks, Alastor.”

Oh.

That weird feeling hit him once more. Alastor felt the need to collect himself before he tried to move or speak. He’d never experienced this sensation before. It wasn’t bad…but it wasn’t good either. It was confusing, and he didn’t like being confused. 

Maybe if had known then what he knew now, Alastor would have put that space between them. 

But like a fool, he didn’t. Because he wasn’t aware of what was happening. 

Like a cliche, he only realized what had happened after he fell so far. 

Because after that meeting, Alastor had started to notice…little things about the Media Demon. 

His overly charismatic and rather loud personality that Alastor hated was just a performance. One that Vox put on to have an air of superiority around other demons who he didn’t know or didn’t trust. When alone, however, Vox was nothing more than a grown child talking eagerly about his interests, his ideas, his plans for the future. Things that only Alastor had the privilege of knowing about. Which made Alastor feel just that much more special to the other demon. 

While Vox’s control was over technology, namely those with electricity, he was clearly more than just a one-note individual. Beyond the wood carving, Vox also held a passion for music. One that wouldn’t necessarily rival Alastor’s knowledge, but that did impress the Radio Demon. Even if their conversations of the topic would more often than not end with them dancing together. Or, rather, Alastor teaching Vox how to dance and resulted in them both laughing like fools as they sat on the floor with their feet hurting for different reasons. 

There was also the point that Vox's interests seemed to fluctuate from time to time. The Media Demon would have a new bullet point list of interesting topics he’d discovered that he’d read down when he and Alastor met up. The Radio Demon took note for himself that Vox’s interest more often than not revolved around sharks. Which is rather ironic as he was now a being who could be severely damaged or even killed by water if he wasn’t careful. But no matter the topic, Vox was the only sinner that Alastor could happily listen to ramble for hours.

For a while, Alastor was content with the situation. He was happy with the relation that he and Vox seemed to share. He felt strangely comfortable and at ease around the Media Demon, who was clearly happy to give Alastor the time of day whenever needed. 

Then Valentino entered into their lives. 

Alastor was only properly introduced to the moth during one of Vox’s large parties. Which he insisted helped him find new souls to exploit and build his still rather small business at the time, but Alastor found these gatherings more than annoying. After all, he could only destroy so many cameras from the media attempting to take his photo before he became bored. But, Alastor knew the other liked his presence there, offering silent moral support. And who was he to say no? 

He fully believed that he would be walking into the same situation as before. Alastor remaining near Vox while the other worked his way around the room to gather what he needed. It was something they’d been doing for years now. Something that didn’t need words to be exchanged to know what needed to happen. 

But as he crossed the large doors to Vox’s tower, Alastor’s eyes landed on a situation that made his insides freeze and burn at the same time. 

A thin and tall moth demon, with wings a brilliant red wrapped around them, was leaning down to give Vox their full attention. Seeming uncaring as to what the Media Overlord was actually saying but was watching the other with a hunger in their eyes that Alastor did not like. 

In a blink of an eye, the Radio Demon was by Vox’s side. His smile strained as he easily stared the moth down. Who had stood back, no doubt surprised by the other’s sudden appearance. Vox, however, paused in his ramblings and offered Alastor a wide smile.

“Alastor, you finally showed up! Thought you’d try skipping this one.” Vox said with a laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Alastor’s eyes briefly traveled up and down over the moth demon, “But I see that you’ve already started perusing the room.”

“Kind of. To be honest, Valentino just walked up and started asking a few questions. He says he has some ideas that could help with the future of the business.” 

“Oh, you should know better than to take the words of some lesser demon at face value. I taught you better than that.” Alastor reached out to gently pinch the corner of Vox’s screen. Who just laughed and pushed him away. 

Red eyes casually looked back over to this Valentino, Alastor more than happy to see how upset the moth now appeared. 

Aw, did someone not like Vox’s attention away from them?

The feeling was mutual. 

“So tell me, what delusional grandeurs do you have to offer to Vox here? It must be impressive if he was rambling about it when I was walking in.” Alastor said with a tight smile.

The moth took a slow drag from the cigarette, puffing it out to wash over Alastor. Who took a small sniff and felt his body reject whatever was infused into the scent. It smelled…disgusting. 

“I’m not sure if I’m up for sharing ideas with a demon I don’t know.” Valentino huffed. 

“Oh no, you know Alastor,” Vox said as he easily wrapped an arm around said demon, “This is the Radio Demon. One of the most powerful Overlords Hell has ever seen.”

“You flatter me Vox…but please, continue.” 

Oh, he was taking so much enjoyment seeing Valentino's face become twisted into a snarl as he glared at the arm. Seeing the moth demon squirm with anger. This is what happens when someone tries to take what belongs to Alastor-

Wait.

What? 

Were those…his thoughts? 

Was he actually…

“So, you’re the Radio Demon,” Valentino scoffed as he took another drag, “Not much to look at. You older model Overlords must hate anything flashy for how dull you all look. Such a shame.”

“Well, we don’t feel the need to over-embellish. We tend to let our work speak for us. But I can see why you younger demons see it the way you do. Actually attempting something meaningful must be too much for you to handle. You make up for your lack of any skills by being loud. In more than one way.” Alastor shot back. 

Vox, who was slowly realizing there was a bit of tension in the air, had his eyes traveling between the two. 

“I’ll have you know that us ‘younger demons’ are bringing more to the table than you could ever imagine.” Valentino hissed out.

“Yes, you did make a remark on something ‘new’ that interested Vox. Tell me, what idea seemed to have worked its way into that thick skull of yours?”

“Alastor.” Vox whispered, a warning undertone held to it.

“If you must know, it’s a new form of entertainment. A new height of pornography that Hell has not seen before.”

Alastor’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “We have enough of that down here, thank you. With plenty of it appearing on Vox’s networks. I’m not seeing the draw to your ‘brilliant’ idea.”

“Because no one here has allowed the full potential to be reached. For it being Hell, everyone’s still playing relatively safe. My movies will be finding the limits and pushing past them.” 

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Valentino smirks, a few streaks of red saliva sliding down his chin. “I have my ways.”

“How delightful.” Alastor growled out, not even bothering to hide his disgust. He was surprised as he was suddenly pulled away from the other demon. Allowing Vox to direct him to the closest dark hallways. 

“Hold that thought for one second.” Vox called out to Valentino with a smile before he and Alastor disappeared from view. The Media Demon fixes the other with a pissed off but confused look. “What’s going on with you?”

“What, I’m not allowed to carry on a conversation with potential employees?” Alastor snipped back.

“If you’d done so in the past, I wouldn’t be this worried because it would be another way of you playing with their fears. But you’ve never been this…snippy. Even more so since it looked like you were going to tear his arms off at one point. Seriously, what’s up?”

“Nothing is ‘up’, I’m just…not a fan of that Valen-what’s-his-face. He’s offering a product that you already produce and acts like he invented the idea of recording intercourse. Smug little man in my opinion.” 

Vox let out a slow sigh before placing a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “Look, I need heavy hitters on my team. People who want to push past what’s ‘ordinary’ or ‘comfortable’. If Valentino thinks he has an idea to help, then I’m going to give him the room to do so. I’ll kick him to the curb without a second thought if he can’t produce.”

“So I don’t count as those ‘heavy hitters’ you’re looking for.”

That comment caused Vox to falter slightly. Even Alastor felt surprised he would make a call out like that. 

“...I think you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to work with me,” Vox whispered, “But…I’m fine with that. You’re a one demon person, look out for yourself, right? I get it. That doesn’t mean you get to weigh in on my business choices.”

“I thought you valued my opinion.”

“If you had good feedback to provide, absolutely. Not when you look so…jealous.” 

Alastor gripped his staff tightly behind his back. “I’m not jealous.”

“You were matching Valentino’s comments beat for beat. I don’t know if that was your attempt to make yourself the biggest demon in the room or what, but you’re intimidated by Valentino in some way. Is it because he’s taller? Because you’re taller than me without heels on and I’ve never complained.”

“I’m not- Stop putting words in my mouth. I only come to these ridiculous events because I found it entertaining how desperate demons flounder to you. If you’re not going to listen to my words, then I’ll just take my leave.” 

“Alastor, wait, that’s not-”

But he’d already sunk into his shadows back into his domain before Vox could grab onto him. 

That disgustingly warm feeling in his stomach now mixed with something bitter and cold. 

Alastor hated how comfortable he’d felt in that state of dazed feelings. He’d become content with Vox, so much so he wasn’t sure if he was truly the same demon he’d been before. He hadn’t realized how far into Vox’s companionship he’d sunk into until this moment. 

How many times had he told himself Vox was just a plaything? Someone to keep his interest between making deals and taking souls. That’s all it was supposed to be. 

Yet seeing that stupid, disgusting, ̠v̠̠i̠̠l̠̠e̠, f̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞c̳̿͟͞k̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞g̳̿͟͞ r̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞p̳̿͟͞u̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞s̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞v̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞ V̳̿͟͞a̳̿͟͞l̳̿͟͞e̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞i̳̿͟͞n̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞  getting so close to Vox hit Alastor in a way he knew he couldn’t just push pasted this…

He needed help. 

“How do you stop caring about someone.”

Roise finished her sip of tea before addressing her guest. Regarding Alastor with a raised brow and a smirk that clearly stated ‘Oh, I know where this is going’. She placed her cup and saucer down on the small table before gesturing to the empty chair across from her. 

With as much refinement as he could handle in the emotional state he was in, Alastor all but flopped into the offered chair. Even with his constant smile, it was clear to the cannibal leader the other was pouting. 

“Now, this wouldn’t happen to be about that Vox fellow I see you with so much?” Rosie asked while pouring Alastor his own cup. “Wasn’t he having a little shindig at his company today? It’s pretty common to see you at his side on these big events.”

Alastor let out a low growl before picking up the offered cup. “He found someone else to…converse with. I removed myself as my concerns didn’t interest that idiotic TV.”

“You didn’t seem to think Vox was an idiot when you offered the idea for that hunting show.”

He pointedly took a long sip of tea. 

“I know you’re not a fan of sharing what’s going on in that head of yours. But I need something from you if you really expect me to help you.” Rosie stated, fixing her next cup.

“...I’ve now realized how close I was to him, to Vox, and that’s…”

“Terrifying?”

“I’m not built for…for caring for others and I never wanted to be,” Alastor said shortly, “Alive, dead, I don’t care. I…I cringe at that deep of a connection with someone.” 

“You and I have an established relationship.”

“...It doesn’t feel the same as what Vox and I have. Or had, I’m not sure if we’re on the best of terms right now.” 

“Oh, one little spat isn’t going to ruin anything. You’ll just need to be more honest when you see him next.”

“But I don’t want to be! I don’t even know what I want right now and it’s driving me crazy!” 

Rosie said nothing as Alastor crushed the cup beneath his hand. Nor as he stood and started pacing the room. The Cannibal Overlord quietly called for a clean up and a new cup while she turned back to the other demon. “You’re certainly in a situation if you’re this riled up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tense before.”

“Because I’ve never…felt this before. It’s an uncertainty that I don’t want to face. I like control, I love being in control. This is making me feel that I’m somehow falling apart yet being put back together again.” 

“It’s okay to be in love-”

“I̳̿͟͞ a̳̿͟͞m̳̿͟͞ n̳̿͟͞o̳̿͟͞t̳̿͟͞.”

Rosie pointed an accusatory finger as Alastor’s voice shifted. “Don’t you snip at me, young man. You came here for advice and I’d like to give it without the worry of losing some part of me.” 

“Then take it back.”

“I’m not silencing the truth.” 

Alastor let out a hiss before turning his back to the other. Eyes widely looking around, as if he’d find the solution to all his problems in the room. He tried not to flinch as hands gently took one of his own to steer him back to the chair. Head bowed as he sat down, cup handed to him. 

Rosie only claimed her chair once more when he didn’t break anything. “You can’t block this out.”

“I-”

“You already had your time for your tantrum. Now, you’re going to listen to me with that mouth shut.” She huffed, taking another sip before continuing.

“I think you’ve been lying to yourself this entire time. Your interest with Vox goes past just a ‘friendship’ or ‘companionship’. It’s something even deeper than what we share. You’ve just hidden it from yourself as a way to preserve what you think you want. Or deserve. There’s never been a challenge of questioning what you two shared because he gave you his world and you took it. Without a thought or worry as to what it could all mean.”

“Then this Valentino character shows up and you feel threatened. I’m not going to ask what the other demon did, because I know it’s more than just a sales pitch that pissed you off. But what you do see is a threat. To whatever you and Vox have.”

Alastor gripped the armrest. “...I don’t think I can explain it.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news on that front, but you’re going to need to figure it out. Because Vox is going to want an explanation and he deserves one.”

“...Say that I do…you know.”

“Can’t hear you over your whining.”

Alastor growled, “If I do love him, what am I supposed to do? I…don’t want to have that connection with someone.”

“Then you need to decide if you’re okay with letting Vox go. Because your attitude today shows that you’re not that much of a fan of anyone coming too close to him. But you can’t make that barrier for him if it means you can’t be honest as to why you’re keeping him for yourself. Either let him know, or let him go.”

Neither of those options seemed to settle Alastor’s worries. 

He should just be able to let Vox go. Why not? Wasn’t that what he wanted for so long? To let that walking TV depart from his life to Alastor could return back to the quiet he’d been so comfortable with. That was what he wanted…when he didn’t really know Vox. 

When the other demon had been just an annoying nuisance in Alastor’s life that couldn’t just take the hint. Now, however, it was a different story. Because having Vox leave meant returning to a life where it was just him and…somehow…in some way…

The thought terrified him.

Maybe he could fall back into the old routine he held. He’d done it for years before Vox arrived in Hell, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to do once more.

“Don’t lie to yourself, just because you believe the old was a comfort.” Rosie offered as calming advice. 

“...I think I should leave.” Placing the cup down, Alastor didn’t wait to hear Rosie’s farewells before he was sinking into the floor. The shadows embracing him. 

The sinners on the street provided a very clear path around the Radio Demon as he practically stalked the streets. Alastor wasn’t looking for someone or heading for a particular place. He just needed to move. Hoping the constant feeling of moving forward would help pull him from the fog. 

It was a frustrating situation that honestly held an easy solution.

Alastor couldn’t deny that he’d allowed Vox far closer than he should have been comfortable with. Just the metaphorical idea of pulling away made Alastor’s stomach churn far worse than what he currently felt. So, remaining was the better outcome.

Yet, would Vox approve? To become beyond the companionship, the friendship, they’d built. For how long Alastor has put up his barriers, would Vox now be receptive to moving forward in a different direction? It was clear the Media Overlord did have an infatuation with Alastor, even if said demon fought against it for so long…

But wasn’t Alastor entitled to have a new chapter in his afterlife? Shouldn’t he allow himself the grace to try? 

How cruel fate could be.

Because he knew he couldn’t manage that. 

He knew Vox deserved someone who wasn’t a chore to…care for. 

So he hid away.

Hid away from Vox. 

Never rising to any calls or pleas that eventually turned into hostel threats and challenges. 

If asked, Alastor claimed he had better things to do. And he did.

Anything that would make Vox hate him or forget him. 

Anything to keep that space between them.

Alastor truly thought he could have something as meaningful down here.

What an idiot he was.

Then, he became lost.

Lost for 7 years.

Leaving behind a disoriented, broken, and confused Vox to wonder where he’d disappeared to.

______________________________

Well, perhaps he’ll know better when going against an angel to not stand directly in front of them, defenses lowered, when they were still on the attack. 

Hand delicately placed against his chest, doing a horrible job of keeping his blood in, Alastor slunk back to his radio tower. It was broken into pieces. The only large part still kept intact was where his equipment lied. The rest nothing more that splintered wood with broken glass and wires littered everywhere. 

Opening the trapdoor was a little tricky. Given the fact he was only doing it with one hand and it was stuck at an odd angle. But Alastor was able to get it eventually. Panting weakly as he shuffled his way over to the controls to collapse at the base of them. 

He wasn’t going to die. 

It didn’t matter how much pain he was in, how much blood he’d lost, how much it hurt to breathe, or that he wanted nothing more than to pass out. He was better than that. He was the Radio Demon. One who held his own against an angel, Adam out of all of them, and still survived. Even if other demon’s felt brave enough to mock them, Alastor could hold that above their heads. That at least he fought and lived to talk about it.

Which he would say before eating the idiotic souls that tried to challenge him. 

For the moment, however, Alastor just needed quiet. A quiet calm to let himself slowly heal before he joined back with the others and-

Alastor tensed when the trap door was opened once more. Following the sharp action with a quiet curse. He sat up further in hopes to look somewhat intimidating or put together. Depending on who was coming through that opening. If it was an angel, he needed to be on the defensive. Someone from the Hotel, then it was more of a performance to show he was doing just fine. 

He was startled to find it was neither option. 

Vox, breathless and looking anxious, climbed his way through. Wide eyes landing on Alastor, who could only stare back in slight surprise.

“...Ah… Hello there.” Was all Alastor could muster.

That seemed to break Vox out of whatever turmoil he was dealing with as he let out a snort the next second. His regular smug face appeared back on screen. Yet Alastor could still see a bit through the cracks…

“Well, you look like Hell. What happened to you? Fight an angel and get your ass handed to you?” Vox replied.

“At least I was willing to fight against one. Unlike your business partner who could only talk a really big talk…” Alastor hissed as he tried to sit up further. 

“Hey, I only wanted to look into security. Velvette has her own way of sorting out what information people know.”

“We see where that got her. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to lick my wounds in privacy.” Alastor let out a pained hiss as his attempt to stand amounted for nothing. His free arm unable to support himself and he slid back down. He allowed a few seconds to try and catch his breath, eyes stuck to the broken ceiling to avoid looking at the other demon.

“Well, what is it? Are you here to torture me physically or verbally? Or maybe just a straight up slaughter. Adam did the majority of the work for you. Very like you, wouldn’t it be? To try and take all the glory once someone’s done the work for you. Shameful. Did you purposefully change your outfit to reflect mine? I’ve been gone for so long and I still, somehow, take up so much of your mind. You truly are pathetic-”

Alastor winced as his hands were pinned to his sides. Eyes narrowing as Vox positions himself a little too comfortably over the other’s hip. The Media Overlord gave his own glare back as the silence stretched before them. 

“...I could break out of this.” Alastor snipped back.

“Do it.” Vox challenged. 

“I could tear you apart without lifting a finger.”

“Do it.” 

“I could show you how pathetic you really are-”

“Ｔ𝓱𝑒𝐍 𝓭Ø Ɨ𝐓.”

Alastor should not have been taken so aback by those words said in that way. His own comeback died on his tongue as he stared up at Vox as his face twisted into a deep frown. The Media Overlord’s right eye flaring up.

When he didn’t receive a reply back, Vox’s face returned to its more calming setting before saying, “I’m going to let one hand go. Can you promise not to swipe at me.”

“...No.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Even with the rather weak deterrent, Alastor didn’t even twitch as Vox made good on his words. Red eyes watching as the other’s hand reached up…and moved to the top most button of his torn shirt. 

Using whatever strength he could muster, Alastor attempted to push the other away. A growl escaping from him when his latching out was proved useless. Vox wasted no time in pinning the Radio Demon’s hands above him. 

“Would you stop being an idiot!” Vox hissed.

“How strange to hear those words come from your mouth. That statement is normally reserved for you!” Hands no longer an option, Alastor resorted to biting the hand as it drew closer once more.

“Fucking- Stop it, I’m trying to help!”

“Why on any of the 7 Rings of Hell should I believe those words? You have no reason to, yet every reason to do away with me. Why keep me around? Clearly your meager existence was better when I wasn’t here. So make it permanent. Why wait any longer?  Do it! Deliver the final blow and strike me down! E̳̿͟͞N̳̿͟͞D̳̿͟͞ T̳̿͟͞H̳̿͟͞I̳̿͟͞S̳̿͟͞!”

That final outburst took it all away. Leaving Alastor leaning against the soundboard side, gasping for air as he stared up at Vox. Who looked unimpressed with it all.

“Well, now that your temper tantrum is over.” Vox said this as if this was a normal routine. Hand going back to the torn shirt to undo it properly. Enough so that he was able to get a clearer look over the deep gash. 

Alastor, on his part, could only sit and wait. Wait for Vox to pull out an angelic weapon that no doubt littered the front lawn of the hotel and stab him. Wait for Vox to just plunge his hand into Alastor's chest and tear out every part of his insides out to paint the floor red. Wait for said hand to slide up to wrap around Alastor’s throat to deprive him of the air he was still urgently taking in. 

But none of that happened. 

Instead, Alastor let out a hiss of pain instead of anger as a burning sensation was felt on his chest. Looking down to watch as the gash slowly closed itself back up, a faint blue light outlining said wound. It was over quicker than he expected. The area not fully healed, still a deep red but far better than it was before. Leaving Alastor feeling a little more awake and Vox…looking pale. 

The Media Overlord leaned back enough to no longer keep the other trapped. Gracelessly falling back onto the damaged floor as his screen dimmed further. A few warnings of ‘Low Battery’ and ‘System Reboot Needed’ occasionally flashing before disappearing just as fast as they had arrived. 

Alastor, on his part, ran a newly freed hand over the area. It was still extremely sore, but no longer bleeding, even appearing to be nothing more than an angry scar. The disbelief must have been written all over his face, as Alastor heard Vox let out a weak chuckle. Looking up to find the Media Overlord staring back at him.

“Don’t crash on my Bambi… I think only one of us needs to be close to passing out.”

“...Why would you do this?”

“Why not.”

“...I could kill you in the state that you are.”

“Would you? If that was the case, you’d have done it already…”

“Do you have a death wish?” 

“For a while now, yeah…kind of.” They both jumped when Vox suddenly let out a rather violent twitch, screen glitching before going dark. Said demon letting out a small groan. “Okay…maybe I used more than I thought I had…”

Letting out a small huff of annoyance, Alastor shifted himself until he could lay next to the other. Feeling Vox twitch away slightly when their hands brushed together. No doubt more surprised by the sudden feeling than threatened with Alastor being so close suddenly. 

“...I saw your stupid little…flying camera things.” Alastor eventually said. 

Vox let out a weak laugh, “My security drones?”

“Drones, that’s what they’re called? Are they named after the way you talk? Droning on and on about things no one cares about.”

“Hey, I didn’t name them… A sinner brought the idea to me.”

The Radio Demon hummed, “Brought to you or that you overheard and killed so they couldn’t market the idea?”

“What do you think?”

Even with the situation they were in, both laying on the floor to recover from their own wounds, with the small want of being nowhere near the other demon, Alastor had to admit. This was…nice. Trading insults with no venom as if no time had really passed between them. When his radio tower was a grand structure on its own in the dense forest, allowing Vox to rant about whatever happened at work while Alastor pretended to not listen. 

A good memory.

A…calming memory.

“You fucking left me.”

Alastor’s ear twitched, turning his head to look at the Media Overlord. Vox’s screen was still dark. But with how his body was tensed, Alastor knew they were reaching a boiling over point. One that had no doubt been rising for all these years. 

“You left me… At the party, alone in this Hellscape… I looked for you…for 7 years. Do you know that? I spent 7 years building up my empire. Becoming stronger. Becoming my own Overlord with hundreds of contracts in my control. All because of you. Because when you left…” Vox’s voice became garbled for a moment and he fell silent. 

Alastor remained quiet as well. Remembering a time, long ago, when Vox had explained a large downside to his new form. That strangely comfortable release when someone could let go of their sadness. Vox had been devoid of that. He still needed to eat, to breath, to drink. Yet that liberating feeling of letting sadness fully consume oneself was gone. 

He’d become familiar with that sound from the Media Overlord’s voice. Alastor had heard it numerous times on days that Vox had just too much on his plate or something fell through and became a detriment to his plans. 

Back then, Alastor hadn’t thought much of it. How trying to openly let out such a weak state of emotion in front of anyone in Hell would be seen as an opportunity to strike. But he never did. All he’d done was allow Vox to scream, shout, even destroy a few things. Then letting him collapse onto the nearest chair as the feeling continued to grow with no way out. The younger demon clawed at his chest as if that would yield the result he desired. 

And how Alastor, the demon who was repulsed by touch from anyone, would place a hand on Vox’s shoulder. Or lay an arm across them. Even at some point allowing the other to lean against him. As if offering a small form of shelter from the storm. 

Now here they were again. Alastor only able to watch as Vox struggled. 

“...You shouldn’t have looked for me,” Alastor said softly, “It wasn’t worth it…”

“It was for me.” Vox shot back, voice still a mess. 

“You had your own life to live, it shouldn’t have revolved around me. It should never revolve around anyone.”

“Fuck you.”

“Vox-”

“You don’t get to make that decision, not on your own. …Did I make you angry? You left at that party. I know we fought but we both said stupid things and I thought it would just blow over. But you kept… You avoided me, lashed out and… Fuck, Alastor, I couldn’t breath, I was so confused and you wouldn’t let me talk. Then I heard sinners calling us rivals and I knew I said nothing about it so assumed you had. With everything…”

“You should hate me.”

“I do…but for the wrong reasons, I think… I just hate that you left me there… Then you fucking disappear.”

Alastor’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “...It wasn’t my intention.”

“If you had stayed, would anything have changed?”

“No.”

“...Well, at least you were honest…”

“If you’re angry at me, why are you here?”

“Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I want to hate you. I freaked out when I saw you get hit. I would have been here sooner, honestly, but Val and Velvette held me back. Said rushing over was a stupid idea. They were kind of right. …I know you like your privacy and whatnot. Your mysterious air… If you want me to keep playing this role of rival, I will. Good thing to focus my anger on…I guess. I just…I wanted to know you were okay.”

Alastor didn’t respond. Eyes widening slightly, ears even tense as he heard Vox’s voice say those words. They hurt. Hearing out loud, from someone other than himself, it felt wrong. It’s as if Vox had said the words that had been resting on Alastor’s shoulders for so long. 

Because, in some way, Alastor had been doing the same thing. 

If he really wanted to keep Vox away, Alastor would have just disappeared to begin with. On his own terms. He wouldn’t have felt the need to rise and snap out his views against Vox. Alastor had no need to make their falsely created rivalry such a spectacle. At the time, he’d just assumed it was because he was trying to show off. To show his life could continue on like nothing was wrong. An act. A performance. 

In reality, it was his way to make sure Vox was okay. That the other demon could remain on his own two feet without Alastor always being there. The small verbal fights were nothing more than Alastor checking in. A way to see how much Vox was building his empire and himself. To watch from the shadows as Vox strived in creating what he deserved. All without allowing the other the chance to ever get that close again.

Alastor didn’t hide physically. He tried to hide emotionally. 

And suddenly…he stopped wanting to try. To hide what he thought wasn’t meant to be his. 

Because he was Alastor, the Radio Demon, and if he wanted someone, he was allowed to take them. Without the fear of what others thought. 

Vox’s screen flickered on when the air around him moved quickly. Having a moment of worry that he’d crossed a line and Alastor was finally done with him. Only to pause as the Radio Demon was now leaning over him. Smile tense and eyes narrowed. 

“...Alastor-”

“I don’t want that.”

Vox blinked, “Don’t…want what?”

“I don’t want to play a role. I don’t want to be rivals, or to feel the need to fight you, or trade insults with the purpose to hurt you or me or…whatever. I…don’t want to go back to any of that. I don’t want to hate you… I never hated you.”

“...Then what was that all about?”

“...There were…certain things happening at the time that I was not…comfortable with facing.” 

“You were scared.”

Alastor let out a low growl before covering it with a cough. “That is one way to put it, I suppose. I pushed because… I like control. This…feeling, this was not control. So, I did what I thought I had to do. I controlled the situation I had before.”

“You pushed people away?”

“Well, no, I actually killed them.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you went with the physical distance and not the spiritual distance.”

Alastor raised a brow, “I thought you could take me in a fight? Was that not one of your claims? That I was so old that I could break a hip or something trying to land the first hit?”

“Hey, that’s still a legitimate concern!” Vox argued back with a smirk, “But back then? No, no way could I have. I would have just been a gnat you could swipe at and do me in. Now…well, you might have knowledge, but I’m pretty sure I have you beat in strength.”

“Oh, do you now? Because that head of yours makes for a good target.” 

“Oi! My head is awesome! Sleek in design and able to hold so much information. You’re just- You just wished you looked this good. Unlike you, still stuck with the pinstriped suites? ” 

“I thought you liked me in these?”

“I mean, if anyone could pull off the look, it would be you. Doesn’t make it look any less ridiculous.” 

“I should teach you to respect your elders.”

“Ha! You just admitted you were old!” Either from being delirious with how much energy he’d lost or really thinking he was that funny, Vox devolved into a small fit of laughter. Starting off strong before devolving into small giggles and snorts. 

All the while, Alastor just watched and listened. Only pulled from his trance when Vox finally calmed down, looking up to the Radio Demon with a smile Alastor had not seen in years. 

And that squirming feeling in his stomach was back…

Vox’s smile fell to a look of surprise when Alastor leaned down to claim his lips in a kiss. The shock wore off slower than he meant for it to, causing Vox to scramble slightly in wrapping his arms around the other in case Alastor took the wrong idea. The Media Overlord even getting a little brave to gently run his fingers through the other’s hair. 

When the kiss ended, neither pulled away that far. Alastor eventually laying across the other, making sure not to stick anything with his antlers. Both allowing the moment to play in their minds once more.

“...This doesn’t fix everything.” Vox whispered.

“I’m aware of that,” Alastor replied, “I suppose I have a lot to make up for… But I’m hoping those aren’t words saying this can’t work.”

“No, just that…it’s going to be hard moving forward. For a lot of reasons.”

“...I can wait.”

Days later, when the hotel was rebuilt and all wounds (known and unknown) were healed up, Alastor was given a box by Niffty. The maid happily claimed she’d found it on the front steps of the hotel, only holding the Radio Demon’s name. Eagerly leaning forward as she waited for the other to open it. Only to be disappointed when Alastor retreated to his room to have some privacy. 

The box didn’t hold anything that would make Alastor worry it was some kind of trap or anything to be worried about. Sitting at his dining table, he turned it over a few times in his hands before tearing the paper away and opening the box. 

Inside was a familiar wooden deer figure. Now complete, the small form resting in a field, all of it a beautiful dark wood that shined from the varnish. Absolutely stunned, Alstor’s eyes roamed over every detail he could find and take in. Sitting in warm silence as he held the small creation in his hand. Only pulling away when something else shifted in the box. Reaching in once more to pull out a folded letter. 

‘If it makes you feel better, somehow, you’re the only one who knows about this. If you want- If you’d like, I can show you what else I’ve made. Just let me know, okay?’

- Vox           

Well, how could Alastor say no to that?

[doubleddenden]

More ZA talk, this time just talking about how a single city can work for a game.

I've seen a lot of poketubers talk about how they "have to" expand outside of Lumiose because it's so small, but- as the rare Pokemon player that's actually played a game BESIDES Pokemon (apparently we're a rare species)- I can assure you it is indeed possible to make an entire city work for a single game- Saints Row 3 and 4, GTAV, Infamous 1 and 2, Spider-Man PS4, *Detective Pikachu???* did we forgor that already? All of those take place in a city, and in some cases are bigger than Kanto, Galar, Hisui, and Paldea individually.

The entire game can take place in Lumiose- just probably not the SAME Lumiose from XY on the 3ds. Look at Hisui- that's old Sinnoh, but there's a lot of liberties taken in regards to certain area placements that wouldn't make sense (Obsidian Fieldlands is a good example, having Mesprit's lake to the northwest of what we assume to be future locations for Floaroma Town, as is the coast lands if we look at Giratina's location).

So, again, having played other games where you're basically in a big city, and having myself lived in a real city with more ground to cover than some entire Pokemon games, it can work, you just have to open your mind to the possibilities.

Yes, even in old Paris circa 1850s and especially modern Paris.

In fact, even though the game was shit for being a buggy and unfinished mess (not to mention a French ripoff of 2, imo), Assassin's Creed Unity takes place in Paris during the French Revolution- only a few decades older than the proposed 1850s setting- and AC games tend to be pretty thorough when it comes to historical accuracy of cities in their games (in fact, when the Cathedral of Notre Dame burned down, they gave data of the church to help in repairs since they mapped it out so well for their game). Bar some obvious inaccuracies, i point that out to give you some idea of the scope of an area size we could explore. It's a huge map with lots of ground to cover.

The main thing to understand is that it may be a different game than most expect. The first trailer for ZA talks about rebuilding Lumiose for city planning purposes- not quite the rugged, untamed wilderness (well, kinda tamed by the Diamond, Pearl, and Celestica clans, but mostly untouched) of Hisui.

So what kind of game could it be? That, I'm unsure of, but I'm sure there's plenty to work with in terms of exploration in a Pokemon game, just not the way you expect.

Here's what I'm picturing: streets, alleys, rivers, old buildings (inside, the roof, the walls, etc), factories, barns, the sky, sewer adjacent tunnels, ponds, rail road tracks and rail road tunnels, catacombs (and or an underground samctuary type place), and perhaps a reinvisioning of the 5 plazas for specific biomes.

Let's look at the map shown in the trailer

Idk about yall, but that's not the same Lumiose from the 3ds, and 3ds Lumiose is still the biggest city we've ever had. Take a look at all of those alleys and buildings and streets- assume this isn't like SV and we can actually go INSIDE places, and suddenly this place looks about 12 times bigger than imagined.

Now this is most likely a modern map of Lumiose, but you can still get an idea of the size of the area we have to work with. It's a big place- maybe we're not going to have a huge varied world to explore like usual, but imagine having missions and story that takes place in particular areas here. That's how many games work with singular cities- go to John Street to meet with Bert and do his bidding, go to the docks to meet with Hans to talk about shipments, go talk to Frank at his house on 123 Street, investigate the factories near city hall- it's not a usual Pokemon game, but it can work in that style of missions and progressions because many games DO work in that style.

Does that make sense? Open some minds here?

They're not gonna sell you a game you're gonna beat in 30 minutes or 2 hours- it's gotta tide you over til the next game, and Nintendo would absolutely rip John Game Freak's testicles out of their collective bodies through their goddamn kneecaps with TONGS if they had to refund games completed that quickly or because they made the audience that mad (i mean, theyve shown they can get away with selling unfinished games, but you know, at least they weren't short-). If it were really that small, they'd just tack it onto SV as DLC. They're not gonna try and make a city the size of Mezagoza City from Paldea into a game, make sense?

You'll probably have a hub or home base and explore the city, and portions of story take place in particular areas of the map- probably doled out to you by handlers, re go to 123 street to talk to Frank as mentioned above. Handlers being important to give an open sandbox and open progression system. Yes, you may be sort of all over the place, maybe coming back to areas you've been, being sent from one side of town to another- that can actually be fun if you have proper transport or modes of travel- something like Spider-Man or cars in some games, but in our case probably Pokemon (maybe a Kalosian Ariados evolution with web slinging lol). Remember, we're not here for badges, we're here for a specific purpose.

So what I'm picturing is that you get started and are told to go places for plot purposes with a minimap to guide you. You can find something like a Pidgey on a lamp post and throw a ball at it to catch it or start a fight with it in the street. Catch it, get on a Gogoat to run through the streets, go past an alleyway- whoa there's a shiny Gengar in there, go there and fight it and catch it- okay back to the objective.

In this sense, I think the trailer is actually a decent example of how Pokemon placement could work, not to mention city layout with multiple layers of urban exploration.

It's an "ambitious" game, like how Arceus was, so just go in with the expectation that it'll be very different compared to what we're used to. We likely won't hear anything about it for a while- I'll say August at the earliest for Worlds, then another drought. Maybe by then we can have a few eggs for this omelet.

[astrolovecosmos]

Planets' Detriment

When a planet is detriment in a sign that planet is uncomfortable, it is hard for its energy to be expressed. Some describe a planet in detriment as being weakened. There are a lot of challenges for these placements, but every placement has its strengths. The detriment can be like the planet is playing on hard mode, sometimes the planet's influence or area of life can feel like a test. But there can be unexpected advantages and insights by overcoming and understanding the detrimental position pros and cons.

Sun is detriment in Aquarius, finding that it spends a lot of its time thinking about others, especially their peers. Despite Aquarius being famous for their independence and aloofness, their humanitarian trait and focus on the group can make them less self-focused. The Sun is about self-expression and when in Aquarius that expression becomes unconventional. It's interesting that the Sun (personality, ego, vitality, self-expression) is detriment in a sign associated with individuality. But the Sun is a warm, gregarious, generous, powerful, authoritative, possibly traditional, leading planet. The Sun wants to be the influence, the change, the heat. Aquarius is about innovation, the unknown, unpredictability, curiosity, and progress. Sun in Aries is confident, action-taking, and self-focused and Sun in Leo is exuberant, brave, and proud. The self is potent and defined in these two fire signs, whereas in cooler, chaotic Aquarius the self or personality may be hard to understand by others. Aquarius may have times of being confident and sure of their personality, they can be willful, stubborn, and opinionated - I would not describe them as being subtle or fluid but they are extreme, windy, and their desire for change can bring misunderstanding, recklessness, and loneliness. This desire for change or even mayhem coupled with their focus on the group can also make them a passionate and devoted follower of trends, ideas, beliefs, maybe people. Their follower side brings a huge detriment to the royal Sun. But this placement is still highly emotionally and socially intelligent + traditionally "book smart" or academic as well. They are original and has a keen intuition for trends, technology, and general societal changes. The Aquarius-Leo axis is all about leadership, individuality, society, collective vs. individual. Aquarius can still be an amazing and inspirational leader. They can be charismatic, convincing, a visionary, supportive, utilitarian, intelligent, communicative, observant, ready, and accepting. Aquarius is the leader you want during unsure times. When the Sun is in Aquarius it experiences both being with the in-crowd and being the misfit, it has a chance to plug into the hivemind as well as complete disconnection. Here the Sun must live inside and outside labels.

Moon is detriment in Capricorn, here it feels restricted. When the Moon is in Capricorn there is an attempt to control emotions. Moon in Capricorn is self-disciplined, pragmatic, critical, and tends to try to control their home and family. The Moon here struggles to tap into intuition, express feelings, and may brush insecurities and sensitivities under the rug. Unaddressed issues are likely to be common. Moon in Capricorn's internal world is an attempt to dry out or contain the ocean. Moon in Capricorn can see their emotions as a weakness or as unimportant. The detriment for this placement is clear - surrounding control and emotional blockage. Moon in Capricorn should aim to be a lighthouse or sturdy boat vs. an attempt to silence, calm, or direct their own waters. It is important to note Capricorn Moon does not struggle to understand and feel their emotions or inner, private self but struggles with accepting, expressing, and utilizing it. The Moon is a symbol of the magic and power that comes with our emotional self. While Moon in Capricorn can face many challenges, they are still dependable, loyal, hardworking, and responsible. Capricorn's seriousness, logic, and sense of duty when accepting of their vulnerabilities and willing to listen to their intuition can be insightful, resourceful, calm, patient, and maybe even wise and imaginative. Capricorn like a lighthouse can help guide others, be a mentor, leader, protector, or provider. Capricorn is adaptable, dynamic, and enduring - they can be an unsinkable ship on a wild ocean, but they can only do this by getting familiar with their own waters vs. ignoring or trying to control them. All of these positives are associated with growth, even without active growth Moon in Capricorn can have a unique perspective in terms of the emotional world. They try to manage themselves entirely, leaving little room for mistakes. They are hard to embarrass, intimidate, and shake. They have strong survival instincts. They tend to be good listeners, can take their character or integrity seriously, and at the end of the day they are the least likely to allow their emotions to blind them. While other signs may be more in tune with their emotions, Capricorn at least won't drown or be impulsive.

Mercury is detriment in Sagittarius, pushed into asking the big questions and operating in a broad, abstract, and spirited way. Even though Mercury is a flexible, curious, and sometimes scattered influence, it still tends to deal with the factual, details, logic, and what is said or shared. Sagittarius is a sign of theory, philosophy, beliefs, ethics/morals, truth, exaggeration, storytelling, impatience, risk, and freedom. Mercury is about the words said, the facts from the textbook whereas Sagittarius is the meaning or intention behind the words and the impression or belief surrounding a text. Mercury rules over all communication, the mind, and learning but it is most associated with gossip, tact, wit, debate, eloquence, humor, persuasion, friendliness, and reasoning. Whereas Sagittarius is all about being forward and blunt, their honesty can be brutal. Sagittarius can be an eternal student or student of life and has plenty of traits or associations that can keep up with this high-energy planet, but they are brazen and are always looking to the future or asking "what ifs". Mercury in Sagittarius frequently puts their foot in their mouth, may be clumsy, could lack manners or just tact, they can trip over words or frequently interrupt others. But I should be careful not to paint a picture of this placement as being purely awkward, rude, and/or a bad communicator. The challenge or weakness Mercury has in Sagittarius is more about the sign's expansive nature and always thinking within uncertainty and the intangible. Mercury in Sagittarius can fall into hypocrisy, bigotry, self-righteousness, haughtiness, can become opinionated, be zealous and overbearing with their beliefs, may develop a temper, and may face challenges surrounding factual truth vs. personal truth. Sagittarius is closely connected to both an open mind or a closed one. Mercury in Sagittarius struggles to focus, can be insensitive, can have a forgetful side, is hard to satisfy or calm, may be carefree or unbothered by how things work which can offer a unique perspective on things but also be an area of restlessness or nervousness. Mercury in Sagittarius can also be motivating, optimistic, funny, catches and keeps others' attention, can be a great teacher, inquisitive, deep, exciting, playful, trusting, and sometimes honest to a fault. Mercury can learn to be adventurous and brashly confident in Sagittarius. Here Mercury must rely more on instinct, action, and luck than knowledge.

Venus is detriment in Aries, becoming self-focused, not afraid of conflict, and at times may prefer separation, independence, competition, and confrontation. Venus in Aries tends to be attracted to those who are a challenge or "hard to get"- a reward or competition to win. They can also be attracted to those who are confident, passionate, and Aries-like. This placement also finds flattery, admiration, attention, and being desired attractive and some may define these as a must in their relationships. At the center of this placement is the love for the self and/or pursuing one's desires. Venus does not like conflict, tends to not be the most competitive, is all about attraction and magnetism vs. action, and finds itself strained and heated in Aries. Venus in Aries can struggle with cooperation, compromise, rejection, and is known for being a selfish partner. But Aries is also known for generosity. This placement can be very ardent and romantic and is famous for having a high libido. They are known for falling in and out of love fast. They tend to burn through relationships quickly, can easily confuse lust for love, gets carried away in new relationships, and gets bored easily. Venus is about relating, persuading, connecting, charming, attracting, loving, and intimacy. Venus in Aries weakness is in struggling to join and relate. They have no problem standing on their own and may need to learn how to listen, give, relate, and sympathize in their relationships. They need to be more open to depending on another or taking care of others. But Venus is also about rivalry, and Aries has this down. Venus being about relationships does not always = a good relationship, harmony, or peace. Venus in Aries embraces competition in the social realm and in love but needs to be careful of always competing against or fighting with their loved ones. They can also be bossy and demanding of loved ones. But Venus in Aries can be a powerful placement for self-love, boundaries, and may have a lot of strength and motivation to leave a toxic relationship. When devoted Venus in Aries will always keep the passion burning, can be adaptable in relationships, can be fun and spontaneous, has confidence in their partner, and may find surprising joy in pleasing a partner or feel needed and important in relationships.

Mars is detriment in Libra, finding it hard to assert themselves and act decisively. Here Mars wants peace and harmony and while this can be positive, this Mars placement struggles with conflict and pressure. Mars in Libra can be easygoing and patient. They can give into people pleasing or may be highly evasive. Mars in Libra may swing from being changeable to opinionated easily. But Mars has a chance in Libra to become persuasive, cooperative, compromising, and understanding. Justice being associated with this sign gives Mars a chance to play judge or lawyer. They can have great mediating and/or networking skills and are usually logical and level-headed. While they may struggle to stand up for themselves, with confidence, and putting other's feelings, impressions, or needs above their own, Mars in Libra is usually not easily excitable, intimidated, or shaken. Mars in Libra may protect themselves through a laidback exterior, a dispassionate or detached approach, or with adaptability, distraction, and deflection. Mars in Libra also gives this fiery, passionate, sometimes brutal or aggressive planet an appreciation, maybe confidence, and intensity or willpower behind beauty, romance, giving, connecting, and equality or complementing. Mars in Libra could have a dependent side but the air element does crave independence and space, having a balance of this is very important for this placement. Being an air sign conflict typically lives in the realm of intellect, gossip, communication, arguing, ideas, and social issues or socialization. But Mars in Fire and especially its native signs Aries or the maelstrom Scorpio wants to win or conquer in conflict. Mars in Air and especially Libra wants to tie, compromise, debate, solve with rules, laws, maybe even boundaries, and sometimes make a deal. Mars in Libra - a sign associated with Venus the planet of love, lust, and desire can be something the planet Mars can relate to. Mars is also connected to intimacy, lust, desire, and romance. While Libra/Venus represents many opposites to Aries/Mars even when Mars is in detriment in Libra it can fall deeply, quickly, and recklessly in love or infatuation.

Jupiter is detriment in Gemini, here Jupiter may feel weighed down by the mundane or technical, or find it hard to stick to one path or continue to move forward. Jupiter in Gemini can be scattered with growth, individuals with this placement may struggle with patience, listening, or focus. Jupiter in Gemini can struggle to not only stick to a goal but find one. Jupiter is the planet of growth, abundance, luck, prophecy, religion, travel, indulgence, knowledge and wisdom, optimism, generosity, and faith. Here Jupiter lacks ambition, belief or trust in others, a system, or self, and possibly bravery or passion. Jupiter in Gemini at times may struggle to see the big picture or gets easily distracted by everyday stresses and worries, curiosities, learning, trends, or short-term fascinations. This age group may be very familiar with flakiness, gossip, petty drama, talkative people or conversationalist being admired or common, obsession or concern with social status, experiences the pros and cons of rivalry, fears misunderstandings, isolation, or exclusion, but also may have many friendly people, could frequently be supportive of one another or causes, embraces new ideas, can easily understand and get on each other's wavelengths, and may value community, friendship, education, and open or free communication. Jupiter may find itself unsure and find it hard to learn lessons in Gemini, but it still can find luck, positivity, and/or growth by being open-minded, flexible, social, staying curious or constantly learning, and playful. Jupiter is an indulgent and spirited planet that acts on instinct. Gemini is spontaneous and energetic. When Jupiter is in this buzzing, quick-witted sign it can be impulsive or reckless. Jupiter in Gemini can overpromise, tell tall tales or exaggerate, be mischievous, hypocritical, and opinionated. One of this placement's biggest weaknesses is a struggle to plan and commit. They may be opportunist, have an entrepreneurial spirit, maybe have con artist tendencies, fit in well within the gig economy or temporary work, and may have a knack for networking. Jupiter in Gemini may be forced to live in the moment a lot. They need to make change, excitement, and newness their comfort zone. Jupiter in Gemini finds confidence in intellect, sciences, or studies, and may live a life of constant growth through change.

Saturn is detriment in Cancer, frequently struggling to leave behind the past. Saturn is the planet of maturity, growth, boundaries, responsibility, purpose, and structure. When in moody, watery Cancer Saturn can find it hard to keep up their boundaries, may give into immaturity, childish selfishness, or insecurities. Saturn in Cancer puts their emotional wants and needs above all else. In some ways Saturn in Cancer's devotion is to emotional wellbeing and stimulation, coming in 2nd after that is devotion to loved ones. They may not fit into society's standard of "maturity, authority, or success". Saturn in Cancer also easily gets stuck in sulking, self-pity, nostalgia, and grudges. But this placement has an amazing ability to embrace and even use their vulnerability as an advantage. They can get in touch with and heal their inner child. Saturn in Cancer likely cares more about their family than society, community, career, or reputation. Cancer makes Saturn more imaginative, gentle, introspective, and intuitive. Speaking of intuition, following their heart or hunches may be key to maturity and survival. The responsibility of caring for others may be a hallmark for them. This may be a group of protectors and healers. While discourse may exist from subjects of betrayal, abandonment, family drama, and general bad blood, they can be an adaptable, cooperative group who mostly value patriotism, loyalty, hard work, practicality, and compassion. Saturn can surround important themes of protection and providing. In this way Cancer can fit in almost naturally despite all the detriment the placement can bring. Saturn can feel out of control, messy, unbalanced, and hypersensitive here, but there is stability and wisdom in Cancer's connection to heritage, tradition, roots, and family love.

Uranus is detriment in Leo, finding that themes of arrogance, selfishness, and abuse of power are common. The most confident and charismatic with this placement tend to make waves and changes during this age or in this part of a generation. Uranus in Leo can also find a new appreciation and fuel for creativity and originality. This time period or people may ask a lot of questions about individuality, taking care of the self, needs vs. desires, and self-love and empowerment. When Uranus is in Leo the planet of change and chaos brings upheaval in leadership, politics, royalty, power, influence, and fame. Uranus's weakness in Leo is in the separation and division of a collective or a person's ability to not be part of a group due to competitiveness, cocky behavior, a feeling or belief of superiority, being bossy, and maybe a temper. But Uranus in Leo has a lot of willpower, and these individuals will likely make a major or unforgettable impact with their lives. Uranus in Leo is all about independence, freedom, personal authority, and self-expression. They can be brave and inspiring but most with this placement tend to act alone or are purely motivated by self-interest. Those with fragile egos, who struggle with speaking their mind, the timid, overly trusting, open-minded and open-hearted, and blunt or overly honest may struggle a lot during this time period or with this placement. But this is a time or placement that shows how important people are on an individual level and the power they hold. Artistic freedom or celebration, recreation, passion, respect, affection, generosity, and the promotion of joy and excitement are all tools that are important to any rebellion or revolution this Uranus placement brings. Those topics are also helpful for healing after the mayhem. Uranus's exaltation is in Scorpio who is a group or time that focuses on the regeneration of the self, psyche, and collective emotional understanding. Uranus's detriment in Leo focuses more on a group's ability to stand on their own with outer power. Both are actually very self-focused. But Leo is a sign of creation, life, rule over life and Scorpio is the sign of death and rebirth. Change, transformation, and liberation usually are surrounded with themes of death in our stories and beliefs for a reason. But even with this common idea, Uranus in Leo signifies change that is usually hopeful. An example is all of the celebration, hope, excitement, and liberation but also power struggles of the late 1950's and the early 1960s.

Neptune is detriment in Virgo, finding this structured, organized sign feels restrictive or tiring. Neptune in Virgo tends to swing from being hypercritical and overly realistic to getting lost in unrealistic expectations and fantasies of perfection. Neptune may feel less imaginative, soft, or fluid when in Virgo. Neptune in Virgo may get easily impatient or disappointed with their peers and loved ones. Neptune here doesn't like to bother with the random, ridiculous, taboo, or impolite. Neptune in Virgo finds that in their search for truth, purity, and goodness or wholesomeness there can be a lot of illusions, distortion, and surprises. It is in Virgo's rationality, logic, attention to detail, and its association with the mundane, reality, or everyday life that makes Neptune feel or express weakly. Neptune was in Virgo during the crash of Wall Street and filled the 1930s with harsh reality checks and struggles. But this time frame also gave way to needed changes and policies. This generation is now known for their strength, frugality, and cooperation. Neptune is about higher causes, dreams, illusions, sacrifice, spirituality, imagination, and more. When in Virgo Neptune is pushed to focus on intellect, facts, and discernment. In general when Neptune is in an earth sign, there is an opportunity to become a generation that makes dreams a reality. There can be a complementing dynamic of imagination, visionary ideas and being practical. Neptune in Virgo individuals can be giving, self-sacrificing, and understands how to work with others towards a goal or may have a desire to help their fellow man. Neptune in Virgo can have a knack for teaching or guiding others, they are supportive, and gives constructive or helpful advice. Despite Neptune in Virgo's troubles, this is a placement that gives back, is adaptable yet tough, likely made up of two extremes of being down-to-earth or highly uptight and proper, and has powerful healing, serving, and crafting capabilities.

Pluto is detriment in Taurus, finding that it is frequently pulled to play it safe. Pluto in Taurus can find it hard to let go of the past or current situations, can be materialistic, may have a vain streak, is cautious, practical, and values security, stability, and possibly loyalty above all else. Change is hard during this time period and a generation with this placement may be highly resourceful - and this may come from being forced to be resourceful. Pluto hates predictability, stagnation, passiveness, indecision, or hesitation. It is the planet of power, rebirth, compulsion, obsession, elimination, destruction, and regrowth. It is a planet that demands action and transformation. In Taurus though things take time. These individuals can be persistent, enduring, practical, and will likely have a good eye for quality. This may be a time period where the real, high-quality, or sincere is asked for. The economy, wealth, and possessions will likely be greatly transformed under this placement. Pluto in Taurus can become grounded, is hard working, stubborn, maybe opinionated, and extremely determined. Pluto in Taurus may ask questions about values, what is valued, worth, beauty, and security. Taurus is known as a peaceful sign, associated with contentment, attraction, and relaxation. But Pluto will always be about death and rebirth, the last time Pluto was in Taurus was during the American Civil War and during industrialization. The changes, suffering, and power during this time may bring some form of peace or it may improve standards of living, but it won't spare a generation of transformation. Even though Pluto feels weak or strange in Taurus, this placement embodies willpower. The beliefs these people hold will be guiding, they may overcome challenges or make changes by sheer force, necessity, and perseverance.

[critical-skeptic]

Understanding the Southern Perimeter’s Republican Lean: A Multi-Factor Analysis

The political landscape of the United States is often discussed in terms of blue and red states, with certain regions consistently leaning Republican or Democrat. However, the southern perimeter of the continental U.S.—stretching from California to Florida—presents a unique case study. Despite cultural diversity, varying industries, and demographic shifts, this region generally leans Republican. This alignment, which includes border states with Mexico and those along the Gulf Coast, emerges from a complex interplay of geography, economics, historical values, and cultural attitudes.

1. Geographical and Climatic Influences

The southern perimeter is defined by its warmer climates, which attract specific demographics, most notably retirees. States like Florida have become retirement havens, drawing older populations from traditionally Democratic northern regions. This migration brings a demographic that often prioritizes conservative values such as lower taxes, property rights, and fiscal conservatism, aligning well with Republican ideologies. The subtropical to desert-like climate also shapes industries in these states, favoring agriculture, tourism, and energy sectors that lean conservative due to their reliance on limited government intervention and favorable regulatory policies.

Additionally, the shape and layout of these states play a role. California’s extensive north-south reach and diverse climate foster a mix of political ideologies, making it more complex, though its highly populated coastal cities tend toward Democratic dominance. By contrast, Arizona and Texas, with expansive rural and desert regions along the border, amplify conservative values centered on self-reliance and individualism, often associated with frontier mentality.

2. Historical and Cultural Factors

Southern states, including those on the southern perimeter, have a strong cultural legacy of conservatism rooted in a combination of frontier independence, skepticism of federal oversight, and a tradition of states’ rights. This tradition resonates with Republican ideology, which emphasizes limited government, individual liberties, and a cautious approach to social change. While California may stand as an exception due to its urban liberal hubs, the states from Texas through Florida reflect this traditional conservatism that has persisted over decades, reinforced by political institutions and local values.

Texas, in particular, embodies this “frontier spirit.” The state’s long history as a republic, combined with its emphasis on rugged individualism and suspicion of centralized power, aligns with Republican principles. Arizona, with its substantial rural population and similar desert environment, mirrors this mindset. The “frontier mentality” persists in these areas, where local culture values autonomy and self-reliance—traits that naturally dovetail with conservative ideologies.

3. Economics and Industry Patterns

Economic structures in these states contribute heavily to their conservative leanings. Texas, for example, is a major oil producer, while Florida’s economy is driven by tourism and agriculture. These industries often thrive under conservative economic policies, which typically favor deregulation, low taxes, and minimal government interference. Republican economic policies are seen as beneficial by stakeholders in these sectors, making the party an appealing choice for many business owners and workers.

Moreover, certain industries in these states feel the impact of immigration more directly, leading to support for stricter border policies and a more conservative stance on national security. Agriculture and construction in Arizona, Texas, and Florida rely heavily on immigrant labor but also face challenges from undocumented immigration, shaping local attitudes toward Republican policies that prioritize border enforcement and immigration control.

4. Proximity to the Mexican Border and the “Diversity Paradox”

For border states like Texas and Arizona, proximity to Mexico brings border security and immigration issues to the forefront of local politics. This isn’t just about geographical closeness; it’s about the daily reality of cross-border dynamics that influence attitudes toward national security, cultural integration, and economic impacts. The southern perimeter’s conservative alignment is often reinforced by a sense of “us vs. them,” a cultural boundary that shapes perceptions of national identity and sovereignty.

Counterintuitively, the high diversity in these border states does not automatically translate to liberal leanings. Instead, the influx of new populations can sometimes trigger a conservative backlash, as local communities respond to perceived cultural and economic shifts. This “diversity paradox” suggests that in some cases, increasing diversity can actually entrench conservative ideologies as groups seek to preserve traditional values in the face of demographic changes. California and New Mexico differ here, as both have deeply rooted Hispanic and Native American populations that pre-date current immigration concerns, leading to a multicultural identity that integrates rather than reacts to diversity.

5. Rural-Urban Divide and Population Distribution

The rural-urban divide is a significant factor in understanding Republican dominance in the southern perimeter states. Urban centers in Texas (Austin, Houston, and Dallas), Arizona (Phoenix), and Florida (Miami) tend to lean Democratic, but the vast rural areas and smaller towns remain conservative strongholds. Given that these rural and suburban regions often have disproportionate legislative influence due to gerrymandering and districting practices, Republican preferences are amplified politically.

In these rural areas, the appeal of Republican ideology is tied to a distrust of federal intervention and a commitment to traditional social values. The conservative emphasis on “law and order” and the right to bear arms resonates with rural populations who prioritize self-sufficiency and often feel culturally alienated from urban liberalism. This dynamic creates a political landscape where urban and rural values clash, but the rural-dominated districts sustain Republican influence at state and federal levels.

6. Geopolitical Significance and National Policy

Border security, immigration, and national security are not merely abstract political issues in the southern perimeter states; they are local realities. The Republican party’s stance on border control and immigration resonates with communities directly impacted by these policies. For residents in states like Texas and Arizona, issues of border security are personal and immediate, influencing their political alignment. The southern perimeter’s exposure to these cross-border dynamics fuels support for policies that emphasize strict immigration enforcement, contributing to the region’s Republican leanings.

Furthermore, the high visibility of national debates on immigration and security in these states places them in a unique geopolitical position. Residents of the southern perimeter often view federal immigration policies through the lens of local impact, which can heighten conservative stances on enforcement and sovereignty, particularly during times of political polarization on these issues.

The southern perimeter’s Republican alignment, spanning from California to Florida, is a product of interwoven geographical, economic, cultural, and historical factors. From the lure of warm climates drawing conservative-leaning demographics to the economic structures that benefit from conservative policies, each element reinforces the region’s political leanings. The combination of rural influence, frontier mentality, and proximity to the Mexican border creates a unique political identity that sustains Republican dominance.

While California and New Mexico serve as exceptions due to their own unique geographic and cultural compositions, the southern perimeter as a whole demonstrates the impact of physical geography and local demographics on political identity. This analysis underscores how politics in border states cannot be reduced to simple assumptions about diversity or proximity to Mexico; instead, it is the product of complex, localized dynamics that shape conservative values and Republican support across the region.