#Mankind seems so pitiful

[prisile]

Compared to that softened, grateful, last glance She gave me through her tears

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x angel! fem! reader

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

genre: semi-angst

notes: will probably make more parts to this if anyone wants me to

PART TWO | PART THREE

Lucifer paced back and forth in his chambers, avoiding the piles of rubber ducks as he anxiously bit his nails. He had just opened the portal for his daughter to enter heaven for a meeting. He never felt this much fear in his whole life, he's worried for her daughter—he fears the higher beings would crush her the same way they had crushed him.

“I am sure she'll be fine...” he mutters, his eyes landing on the picture frame of him and charlie that's on his table—beside his newly created fire breathing rubber duck. It's not fine, Charlie is his pride and joy. He wants to preserve her smile and shelter her but she's a grown woman now and he regrets missing out on her life as he was busy wallowing in self pity.

Lucifer's shoulders hung low as he let out a long and tired sigh, his legs brought him to the balcony of his chambers, grabbing his newly made fire breathing rubber duck in the process, pushing the doors open and leaning against the railings, placing the duck on the railings. “Now that I've thought about it, I made so many regrets in life.” he mutters sadly, his eyes gazing at the smoke filled skies of hell. He couldn't see any stars or moon. He remembers when he was still up there, always gazing up in the sky with, “[y/n]....” says sadly. She was the only angel who believed in him, who agrees with him. They were best friends, he used to fly around the skies with her. She was one of the first few angels God created, he is one of those angels of course. His the one that got away.

“....and with that, I think humans should have free will, they shouldn't be stuck following so many rules.” Lucifer mutters, avoiding the gaze of his best friend, “I know, you probably think it's idiotic to think like tha—” his voice was cut off as the girl beside him placed a shushing finger over his lips. His wings fluttered from the contact of her skin against his lips, cheeks heating up slightly. “Don't think like that, your dreams for mankind are amazing and I agree, too many rules aren't fun.” [y/n] giggles softly as she removes her finger away from his lips.

At that moment, Lucifer was able to gaze at her smiling face. Her three pairs of wings flutter behind her—so warm whenever she hugs him, her hair perfectly framing her face—so soft to touch, the golden halo on top of her head—like a crown, her beautiful smiling face—especially her lips, he wonders what it feels like against his own. Oh god, he's falling for her isn't he?

Lucifer shakes his head, he shouldn't be thinking inappropriate thoughts about her. He just composed himself and pretended his golden heart isn't pounding so hard against his ribcage.

Lucifer laughs softly, gazing at the city of hell. “I wonder what would've happened if I didn't back out of my confession that day, she looked excited too..” he wonders.

“[y/n], can I please talk to you... Alone.” Lucifer nervously says as he looked at the female angel before him, he had to take a deep breath in hopes of his beating heart to calm down for a second or else he'll end up with a heart attack. “Oh? You needed me for something?” she asked him gently with a smile, he would've responded “I needed you in my life” if he had the confidence, “I just needed to talk to you, that's all.” He answered meekly and [y/n] was worried because he seemed nervous, she nodded and followed him to an area where there were no other angels.

“Is there something wrong?” [y/n] asked him softly, holding his hands. Her hands were soft against his own. He avoided her gaze and he could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. This is it. “I just wanted to tell you that...” he pauses, voice shaking. [Y/n] looked at him expectantly, “that I like you...” he continued and her eyes widened, her cheeks heating up slightly, her heart beating loudly too unknowingly to Lucifer but the poor man misunderstood her reaction and quickly panicked, “to be safe out there when you do your roundly checks on the Garden of eden.” he finishes quickly and nervously.

“I couldn't forget her reaction, she looked so disappointed.” Lucifer mutters with a sad chuckle as he remembers how her face fell in slight disappointment. He didn't know why back then and it took him years to realize that she wanted him to confess. “I am such an idiot, right?” he says and looks at the rubber duck beside him. No response.

Even though he regrets not confessing as he planned that day, even though a part of him wished the outcome was different. He would've been happy with [y/n] but part of him is thankful he didn't, because if he did, Charlotte wouldn't be here.

Speaking of Charlotte, he is now back to worrying for her. “I spent my time thinking about my past love when my daughter is up there talking to them!” he exclaimed, running his fingers through his blond hair. He hopes someone is kind enough to help his daughter up there.

Unknown to him, a certain angel he was just recalling is currently talking to his daughter up in the skies and showing her around.

[hamletthedane]

Love that Oppenheimer is a deeply disturbing horror movie about a man forced to accept that he is, in a person, the representative manifestation of mankind’s evil in committing one of the greatest horrors of human history - LITERALLY acting as the modern Prometheus, tormented by his sins for the remainder of time. Knowing that he will never be pitied and his actions will forever be utterly unforgivable because the blood of genocide and the potential of total human annihilation will eternally drip from his hands.

But also the simultaneous indictment by the film that to blame a single person for the Manhattan Project is to refuse to accept your own capacity for great evil if the ends ever seem to justify the means, and the culpability of every member of a species that lets itself create something so unspeakably terrible.

Hate that twitter’s take on such a nuanced and brilliantly handled examination of those issues is “movie bad because protagonist not evil enough.”

[jadeddangel]

lute with an exterminator reader? And maybe with some added angst of reader dying or getting extremely injured

"Just a few more breaths..."

Lute x reader

Summary: During the attack on the hazbin Hotel, you, lute's partner gets significantly wounded and is given the choice between saving you and Adam.

Warnings:Cussing, Graphic Violence, Talk of Death, abandonment issues, Angst

You and Lute were sharing short kisses in the alley, desperate for any form of touch from the other. It was only 15 minutes until the attack on the hotel, Lute had begged you to be left out of the attack to Adam but Adam made the decision to keep you in due to needing "all hands on desk". So, instead of training, Lute had been spending as much time with you as possible. She was terrified of losing someone who actually loved her, someone who didn't want to lose her..Lute held you closer to her body, nuzzling into your feathered neck.

It had been almost 15 minutes since you and Lute had separated, and the fight was well.. gruesome, bloodstained dirt that had developed into a deep covered mud. Lute and Vaggie were in a rough tossle in the hotel as they both fought for their lives and well.. love. As cracks began to litter all over the concrete walls of the Hazbin hotel, the walls began to Crack under the pressure of the aggressive fight between Lucifer, The King of Hell, and Adam, The First Man.

You were fighting against the cannibals, tossing them over your shoulder when they cane close enough to push their teeth into your body. You had lost chunks of your wings and arms when the cannibals had gotten close. Your body was in a searing pain from what seemed to be angelic weapon encrusted teeth that they had. But you hadn't given them the pleasure of hearing your cries and/or screams. You were probably bleeding out of major arteries, but at this point, your mind had turned off pain reptors to your body. That wad until you were starting to get dizzy from blood loss, it felt like you were dying all over again... and it was... scary.. you hadn't been scared in so long...

The building finally collapsed, and all attention was on the giant pile of rubble as you saw your girlfriend, Lute, dive out of the building holding her bleeding stub where her arm once was.

"Lute!!" You screamed, pushing the cannibals off of your bleeding body using your wings as best as you could to soar over to Lute helping her up out of pity. Lute stood and pushed you away from her, "Don't focus on me! Get that fucking brat of lucifer's!" Lute yelled not even bothering to look at you or your wounds knowing she wouldn't be able to stop herself from babying you, if she knew you were hurt.

You flinched and moved back from Lute and pulled your wings in. She had never yelled at you. Suddenly, you saw vaggie dive in and push Lute to the ground, both of them quickly wrestling for dominance. You were panicking a bit, causing you to drop your guard, allowing The cat demon, Husk, the opportunity to sneak behind you, holding one of his divine cards to your neck.

As if on cue, you heard Adam begin screaming and giving a speech, "No! You don't get to end this! I'm fucking Adam! I'm THE fucking man, and you're just some fucking clown or something. I started everything on Earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be worshipping me! You ungrateful, disgusting, fucking, LOSERS!!!" Adam screamed at Charlie and the surviving demons and then suddenly and out of nowhere, Squelch!! .It was sickening as everyone paused to watch the large divine sewing needle piercing through Adam's gut. Lucifer poked at his own gut, "Uhm, you've got a little something, like right there" Lucifer didn't really flinch or show any form of discomfort. Adam fell to his knees and then onto his stomach, you heard Lute scream and push vaggie off of her, rushing to Adam shaking him and tuning him over letting out cries and screams. You couldn't bear to look anymore as you shifted your gaze to the ground, you were too scared to move to much knowing your throat could be slit at any moment.

Lute turned her gaze towards you, noticing the danger. She knew she had to choose between you and Adam. It was a blur. All you remember is falling to the ground suddenly and your neck burning with a ferocity that you had never felt before. Your hands gripped onto your neck, feeling the warm feeling of blood, "Oh.." he had barely missed your jugular and windpipe, but it still didn't hurt. You heard a loud scream and heard a Lute rush to you laying your head in her lap, "no no no no.. not you, please.. please.. I can't lose you and Adam.. I don't wanna choose.." Lute, let out sobs punching over your body. You reached up and held lutes cheek, "Hey hey.. don't cry.." You croaked out struggling to breathe and speak. You had never seen lute cry so much. Slowly, all of the demons around you connected the fact that you were, in fact, lovers from body language. Vaggie walked closer, "Lute.. I.. I didn't realize you guys were still.." Vaggie started. Lute held your body closer to her, gritting her teeth, "Haven't you done enough?!!" Lute yelled through tears, holding you closer to her body.

Vaggie hesitated and backed up, putting her arm out defensively in front of Charlie, though Charlie was quite far behind her. Lute's lip quivered and held you closer to her, "Hey Lute?... i-i.. if I don't make it..." You started feeling your vision start to go black. "No, no, don't.. I'm not gonna let anything happen! We made plans! We... we were gonna have dinner together..get a pet together.. you said nothing would happen.. you said you would be fine.. I can fix this.. I can fix this.. this is all my fault.. I should have pushed to let you stay..I-I can fix this.. This is all my fault!!.." Lute ranted, only to be caught off by your loud coughs and blood splattering on her face. "Lute!.." you yelled the best you could. Your body was trembling against your will. "It's not your fault, Lute, I... it's not your fault.." You repeated gripping onto Lute's feathered neck. Lute held you closer to her understanding that she had no control over this anymore.

You couldn't see anymore, "I love you L-... Lute.." You struggled as you breathed out, passing out, making your body go limp...

Ending 1(you survive):

You shot up as you awoke, and you held your neck, remembering the struggling to breathe and the pain of the cut. You were shaking in pain as your head was on a swivel as you looked around paranoid. You recognized where you were. It was one of the angelic hospitals, It was mainly just for injuries from training with the angelic weapons. You felt yourself relax as you finally felt the large amount of pain from all over your body. It was from the bites, the stabs, and... the... the wound that almost killed you... You swung your legs off of the hospital bed, looking around terrified. Wait.. where was lute?! She came too, right? She hadn't stayed down there, right?! Your mind was racing as you heard talking outside of the hospital room and them the door opening to the hospital room. Your eyes flipped up to the person who had entered the room. You held your breath reflexively before relaxing, seeing Lute's familiar face, "I... wait.. Lute?..." you whispered, your voice was hoarse from the lack of use. Lute rushed to you and hugged you tightly, pulling you closer desperately, "You're ok!!" Lute yelled in surprise, sniffling a bit as she began crying in happiness. Turns out you had been in the hospital for about 2 months and had gone into critical care multiple times due to your weakened immune system. After you had gotten released to be able to go home, you and Lute had gotten promoted as commanders of the exorcist army. You had adopted a little angelic kitten and named it Adam. It was your guys' way of mourning the loss.

Ending 2(Reincarnated as a demon):

You shot awake holding your neck and looking around searching for the destruction you had caused, but nothing.. You looked down at your hands and froze.. your skin looked wrong.. you weren't in pain, though.. you reached up to feel for your halo but didn't feel it.. instead, you felt 2 rough horns that were so sharp that you nearly pierced through your palms. You let out a hiss of pain as you got up. You still had wings, but they were black with red splotches where you had been bitten and where chunks had been ripped out. You looked all over your body, noticing that the pattern had carried over your body. You were almost pitch black in color aside from red that had been where all of your scars were. And then, you connected all the pieces and headed straight to the pride ring, trying to get back to Lute.. trying to get back home...

Ending 3(???):

You opened your eyes slowly, before squinting them, there was a bright light, it was almost like... the sun? Your eyes adjusted after a moment as you opened your eyes completely. There was tall grass and tall cedar trees... it was beautiful.. it was somewhere you and Lute had always talked about.. You were in a large clearing that was surrounded by flowers and mushrooms that didn't seem poisonous or harmful. You saw smoke in the distance as you slowly walked forward.. you felt drawn to it almost.. You slowly followed the flowers that had almost created a trail towards where the smoke was.. You followed the "trail" and found a pretty little cabin. It was perfect. You opened the door to the cabin, I mean, the place seemed safe enough so it couldn't be too bad.You opened the door to see... Lute? She was in the kitchen. The sunlight licked at the window, leaving a golden glow on the window paine since the sun was sitting on the horizon. Lute was pouring steaming hot water into 2 cups that were in front of her before looking up at you, "Welcome home my love, make sure you close the door behind you, we wouldn't want Adam getting out again" Lute laughed a bit, she seemed relaxed. You tilted your head confused at the name until you saw a golden, almost ginger colored cat approach you rubbing against your legs affectionately. You shut the door softly before picking up the kitten, "What are you making?" You asked quietly. "Wellll I didn't know if you wanted coffee or tea, so I made your favorite kind of tea!" Lute smiled at you brightly. She approached you, holding the cups before holding one out to you. You smiled, setting the cat down and taking the cup, "I figured we could cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together, maybe?"Lute said. You smiled, "That sounds perfect.. we always did talk about how we could do that forever and how we never wanted it to end.." you muttered. You knew this wasn't real.. but you were happy... and you would be with her for the rest of time..

[teamatsumu]

What if the Seireitei had a Human Resources Department? And what if you were in charge?

Summary: With the kind of antics these shinigami get up to every day, it was only a matter of time before the higher ups felt the need to create an HR Department to deal with the day to day messes. Here’s a little drabble about how it all started

Word Count: 2,062

Warnings: swearing, bad humor, mentions of violence

next part

Sometimes it was hard to believe that the gods didn't have it out for you. Especially when you ended up in situations like this against your will and through no fault of your own.

The corridor was completely silent despite the amount of people that it held. It’s almost like everyone knew how fucked they were, and they were praying with every fiber in their bodies that somehow, they would not get killed at the hands of the Captain Commander today.

You stared at the large “1” written on the wooden doors in front of you, hands clasped so tightly in your lap that your knuckles turned white. Your heart was beating so hard it almost hurt your ribcage. Next to you on the bench, Ikkaku shuffled, and you resisted the urge to deck him across the face. He was injured enough as it was. And frankly, no punch you could land on him would do any good. You had zero hurting power in your body.

Once again, you wondered which otherworldly spirit you had pissed off to get where you were.

Squad 4 was supposed to be a safe choice. You had asked to be put in it for a reason when you graduated. Far, far away from the fighting and pain. No conflict. Just helping people, healing injuries and staying inside where there were no battles. You would take any amount of scut work over whatever the hell those other divisions got up to. And you were good at your job. You handled medical emergencies well, you were a boss at getting through paperwork. Lieutenant Isane would cry tears of joy at the sight of you almost daily since you were singlehandedly keeping the admin side of the division afloat on your own.

So why did it have to come to this?

After what seemed like an eternity, the wooden door cracked open with a deafening sound and a head poked through it. The Shinigami’s eyes scanned the crowd outside until they fell on you. You felt your throat knot. He gestured for you to come to him before disappearing behind the door again.

You stood up on shaky legs, deliberately trying not to look at everyone around you who was now staring at you with pity in their eyes, no doubt. You unintentionally caught eyes with Captain Kuchiki, a calm slate gray that seemed to settle your nerves just a bit. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and some strength returned to your legs. You were grateful he was there, despite him not having any involvement in the situation.

Well, it was his Lieutenant on the line so maybe some involvement.

The Shinigami led you down a long hallway silently, your almost numb legs following behind. You felt like a baby deer with how unsteady you were. What were baby deers called again? Foals? You had no clue. Your mind was fried at this point. You tried to send a short prayer to the gods above, but then you remembered they were the ones who put you here in the first place so maybe praying to them wouldn’t be too good of an idea.

The Captain Commander certainly had an air about him. The table he sat behind in his office made him look grand. The office was almost like a balcony, overlooking a magnificent view of the Seireitei that you would have loved to admire under less precarious circumstances. You kept your eyes on the desk he was seated at, bowing low and standing straight as a rod until the Shinigami who brought you there had shut the door behind him with a click that echoed in your very soul. Then, it was silent.

Yamamoto Genryuusai was looking at you with a hard stare. You felt the horrifyingly embarrassing urge to burst into tears.

“Explain.” He said.

What came next was the worst word vomit known to mankind.

It had started two days ago, as festivities for New Years were just beginning to unravel. You had been on night duty, a post you wouldn't wish on anyone. Holidays almost always ended up with someone landing in the Squad 4 barracks with injuries. A bunch of drunk soldiers with weapons and the ability to fight felt like a disaster waiting to happen. But what happened next was ten times worse than what anyone was anticipating.

The fight was pretty standard. Some drunk Squad 3 member had thought it would be a good idea to taunt Squad 11 members by calling them brainless idiots who only knew how to swing a sword. It was a fist fight that escalated when Yumichika and Ikkaku stepped in. Somewhere in the commotion, someone had broken a bottle of sake on Yumichika’s face.

This, of course, caused a complete meltdown on Yumichika’s part, who could feel the cuts on his face that would potentially leave scars. He lost his shit and proceeded to beat the crap out of everyone around him. A very, very drunk Ikkaku and accompanying Renji thought that was the best solution in their alcohol-addled minds. The rest was history.

What had landed into Squad 4 was over 20 extremely injured Shinigami, a flurry of broken limbs and blood. The biggest issue was that this had involved a Lieutenant and two seated officers. Once Captain Unohana got wind of it, it was all over. This kind of violence wouldn't fly under the strict Captain’s nose, and she had reported the whole matter to the Captain Commander. That immediately put Captain Zaraki and Captain Kuchiki’s asses on the line since it was their officers involved, and since you had been the attending who received every case in Squad 4, you were asked to report to the Captain Commander for a full explanation on the matter the following morning.

That morning, extremely hungover Ikkaku and Yumichika had shown up at your barracks, pleading with you to save them. Apparently their Captains had been furious, and both of them were being considered for a major demotion. And Renji? Lord, Captain Kuchiki would make sure Renji never saw the light of day again.

While you made them tea to try and stave off their headaches, Yumichika had given you an honest recounting of the whole situation, and it made your heart soften. They really had just been there to break apart a fight before Yumichika’s face got involved. And as you looked at his bandaged face, knowing full well the extent of the damage underneath, (you had been the one to heal him after all) you felt your heart swell in pity.

So you had agreed to the impossible task of trying to make them appear like the victims in this situation. In front of the fucking Captain Commander. What were you thinking? Curse your empathy and curse the fact that you had somehow befriended these people.

“So according to you, Fifth seat Ayasegawa was there to break up the fight?” Captain Commander Yamamoto’s voice was grumbly and low.

You nodded. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of your face and you were breathing hard. You twisted your fingers behind your back, jaw locked so tight it made your teeth hurt.

“You realize he was singlehandedly responsible for incapacitating 11 out of the 20 injured men?”

You closed your eyes. Fucking Yumichika. That fucker.

“He only responded to an extremely hateful and violent attack on himself, sir. He was not the instigator. As the healer who received him in Squad 4 barracks, I can guarantee that his condition was horrifying.”

“So you agree with his decision to retaliate the way he did?”

You shook your head immediately. “No, sir. I do not agree with it, but in the uh, inebriated state everyone was in at the time, including the sight of his comrades injured and charged comments against his Squad, I can understand why he acted the way he did.”

The Captain Commander appraised you under a weighted stare which made you gulp heavily.

“You have an admirable track record, Sixth Seat Y/L/N.”

What? You blinked, not knowing how to respond. He knew about you. Well, of fucking course he did. He couldn't have summoned you here with no knowledge of who you were. But being referred to by him unnerved you.

“Your account for the event of New Years Eve is very diplomatic.” He continued. “If I go off on what you have told me, I am left with no one to blame this whole situation on. It seems this will just be written off as an unfortunate accident.”

You nearly bawled.

The Captain General closed the file in front of him, leaning back and placing his chin on his bony knuckles. His eyes fell shut, yet you felt he was closely watching your every move.

“You may leave. And inform everyone that they will receive a written warning for their involvement. You will receive a letter too, but of a different nature.”

You nodded and bowed instantly, turning around to walk out of the office. When the door shut behind you, you choked on a gasp and keeled forward, resting your hands on shaky knees. Fuck. Fuck. That was so intense you could cry. You would cry, actually. The tears were coming on. You sniffled.

Someone cleared their throat and your head shot up, looking at the Shinigami who had led you here. He gave you a look that told you he knew how you felt, before gesturing you to follow him out.

On numb, trembling legs, you walked out of the Squad 1 barracks, immediately being greeted by all the parties in question. Ikkaku,Yumichika and Renji crowded you, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You looked at the half bandaged and swollen faces in front of you and felt the horrifying urge to laugh.

“You all will get an official warning. No lasting consequences.” You managed to choke out.

The air that lifted at your words left behind an atmosphere so light it nearly made you collapse, you swayed a little as you sat down on the bench, watching Renji collapse in relief while Yumichika slumped into a wooden pillar. Ikkaku was looking up at the sky like he had just received redemption from the gods themselves. You held back more laughter.

Captain Zaraki let out a heavy sigh and stretched, patting you on the head with a heavy hand in his show of thanks before shuffling off, hands deep in his pockets. Captain Kuchiki sat next to you on the bench smoothly, staring at his Lieutenant with disdain.

“I must thank you.” He said, not looking at you. “I was convinced this would end poorly. You have surprised me, Sixth Seat Y/L/N. And I assume you surprised the Captain General too. I have not known him to be lenient in the years I have worked in the Gotei 13.”

You stared at the Captain as he got up once again, each move as pristine as the last. He walked over to Renji and let out a pained breath at the sight of his Lieutenant.

“Stand, Renji. You will still face the punishment I have set for you.” He stated simply before turning to walk away.

“Yes, Captain.” Renji’s voice was small and muffled. The corner of your lip twitched.

Yumichika sidled over to where you sat, tears in his one visible eye.

“I love you.” He breathed, making you snort.

“I want you to stay as far away from me as possible from now on.” You stood up, feeling better now after seeing the relief your friends felt. You were of course, being dramatic. But you were sincerely so drained you wouldn’t mind sleeping for a week.

And sleep you did. In fact, you had completely forgotten the Captain General’s words until the next morning, when a Shinigami showed up at your barracks with a letter in his hand. You stared at it in confusion until you saw the name of the addressor on the envelope. Your eyes widened and your heart fell out of your ass as you remembered the words.

“You will receive a letter too, but of a different nature.”

With trembling fingers, you tore through the paper, frantic eyes trying to make sense of what you were reading. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What the fuck is a Human Resources Department?”

A/N: Should i make this into a series? Im contemplating it. Pls let me know!

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “I fucking hate them (or maybe I just like lying to myself)” prompts

“Don’t deny it. You were staring at my lips just then. You wanna kiss me that bad?” “Piss off, you wanker.” “You didn’t say no.” 

“Kiss me.” “Oh, fucking gladly.” 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” “I did not.” “Hm, then why can’t you look me in the eyes?” 

“They’re the biggest fucking assholes known to mankind, so why the hell would I ever let their stupid face and stupid smile and stupid laugh and stupid everything consume my brain on a daily basis?”

“Is that a handkerchief? Why are you offering me a handkerchief?” “Because you’re crying and everyone else is ignoring you and seeing your pathetic tears makes me mad. So wipe them away with this; they’re hurting my eyes.”

“Who hurt you?” “Why do you care?” “Because no one gets to make you look like this other than me. I’m going to break their nose for this.” 

“Here. Thanks for the handkerchief. I washed it and everything.” “I didn’t tell you to give it back to me.” “If you’re worried that I left my snot on there then—” “That’s not why. I just thought… I wasn’t expecting you to give it back to me, let alone remember that it was me who gave it to you. It has been a few months, after all. Have you been thinking about me this whole time?” “…How in the ever loving fuck did you come to that ridiculous conclusion?”

“I came to apologise. Even though we all make mistakes and you’re definitely the one in the wrong, I’m going to be the one to make amends. I’m sorry.” “…What’s the point of this apology if you’re going to be a dick about it?” 

“Are you actually blushing because of me?” “I’m not! It’s just really hot in here and the air-conditioner is broken.” “Oh, that’s weird because this place is quite cool and the air-conditioner might be working a little too well.” 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you.” “Oh, but your world revolves around me since you seem to be so obsessed with me.” 

“Okay, so we might have fucked a few times, and very passionately at that, but that doesn’t mean I’ve caught feelings.”

“What do you mean I stare at them with heart-eyes? That is quite literally the opposite of how I stare at them — not that I do stare at them, by the way.” 

“Looking at you is making me feel an insurmountable amount of rage so I’m going to kiss you to cease that rage, got it?” “Wait, what the fuck—”

“Telling myself that I hate them is the only way I can ground myself, because I know if I admit I’ve fallen for them, then there will be no one to catch me.” “So, you’re going to continue to hate them even though, deep down, you know that’s the opposite of what you really feel?” “…Well, denial is blissful. So they say.” 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” “I’d really rather not, but I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?”

“Admit it, you think I look good.” “Nah. You look like a clown.” … “Did you see them? How dare they look so fucking good? This isn’t fair, God has favourites and they’re clearly one of them.” “Didn’t you literally tell them they look like a clown?” 

“I’d rather you regard me with hate than pity, because pity coming from you makes me feel like a pathetic piece of shit and affects me more than it should.” 

“You’re so clumsy and stupid. When will you learn how to stop tripping over your own two feet?” “Until you stop tending to my wounds like you do now.” “What?” “…It’s the only way I can think of to get you to give two shits about me.” 

“You literally don’t have to do anything to catch my attention because my eyes have never really been on anyone else other than you.”

“They say to keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, but I think I might have kept you too close.” 

“You keep ruining all of my fucking relationships. What the hell’s wrong with you?” “Maybe because I feel like you could do better than some asshole who doesn’t appreciate you?” “Oh, then drop a few names, I’ll gladly go on a date with them if it means you’d stop interfering like some meddlesome bitch.” “Well, there’s [name] for one.” “…Isn’t that your name?”

“You do that again and I’m going to throw you onto the bed and… And…” “And?” “…cover you with a blanket so you don’t catch a cold when you’re asleep.” “There are other ways to keep me warm, you know?” “…Don’t give me ideas.”

“So I had a nightmare.” “Ooh. Interesting. What was it about?” “It was a wet dream about you.” “…That’s… Pardon?” 

“Why are you doing this to me?” “Doing what?” “Making me like you. Stop it, God damn it, I’m not supposed to— I’m supposed to not— this goes against every morals I’ve ever set for myself!” 

“I think I kind of knew I was fucked the moment I admitted to myself I never really hated you.” 

[yandere-heaven-nyxie]

The Gem That Was Mistaken As A Mere Stone

Short Sagau Series Part 2

Characters: Nahida, Nilou, Wanderer

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The Dendro Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali who was against the idea of hunting down the 'Imposter'. She thinks it's unnecessary and as far as she analysed, the copy hasn't done anything to offend anyone in the slightest

It confuses her on why do they want to kill someone who just looks the same as the Creator, hell they didn't even claim to be the Creator either. This entire thing didn't sit right with her, even if the traveler already did freed her from the Akademiya. She felt pity because she can somehow almsot relate to the person being hunted down.

The Aranara surrounds you, holding multiple flower crown for you. Your smile is the most beautiful thing that mankind has longed to see, Nilou admires you as other Aranara decorated her hair too. Her eyes softens to the cute creatures that surrounds you, 'They all act like they're Her Majesty's children..' Nilou couldn't stop herself from giggling.

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Nahida entered someone's dream but it was more like someone's consciousness. She looked around, hearing a soft sob. Walking near to the sound, she found herself standing in front of a winged androgynous soul. They were so ethereal, even their cries sounded like a melody. The garden that surrounds them act like a shield between the two, while she was only standing on a white plane, the ethereal being was sitting down on green grasses and bushes of flowers surrounds them.

"Hello? Are you alright?" Nahida voiced her concern, how could such beautiful being be this sad. The ethereal figure turn their head but their eyes gradually soften.

"Hello little one, how have you come here?" your voice was still sore but it's still gentle. Nahida was at first confused to the 'little one' title but brushes it off as it doesn't mind her. She was curious at what you are, you seems to act like you already knew her for a long time. The bushes moves so that she can enter your consciousness fully, 'I see this is a safe haven for them'

"Tell me, little Nahida. What have you come to seek me for?" her eyes widens at the fact that you already knew her name when she didn't even know yours yet. "How did you know my name?" she questions, she's not scared just piqued. She sees how plane brightens, "Hmm, let's see. Your record in Irminsul is a tad bit blurred but I can still see who you are, little one."

For someone who is able to see into Irminsul itself is enough to make her connect the dots on who you are. "My Creator!" her eyes lit up. You nod but corrected her "Descendant of Your Creator." Thus, you told her about the story of the beginning.

_______________________

Eons ago, a god who was born from nothingness. They who created the world before Teyvat. This world was filled with all their creations, Unique and Beautiful. They love their creations equal to one another,

"For I have created this world to admire my creations, I shall love and cherish every one of my beings"

Teyvat is the gift for their creations to thrive in, The Creator gave Teyvat it's own sentient mind. As it's order for the land,

"I shall order you, to protect my people. My wondrous creations that includes you my dearest Teyvat.

I bestow you with this gift, until the day my creations turns against me. May you protect my vessels from such calamity."

They foresaw of what will happen to them, another being that wasn't their own came and took everything away. Killing the All-Creator who was vulnerable to protect their people from getting corrupted, in a last attempt to still guide their creations.

They made a being that resembles them, calling them The All-Creator's Descendant. Giving all their memories and parts of their divine form into the newly made body. The body was at first was a human but once they step foot onto the land they had created, the heavenly form of the Creator shall slowly awaken.

Descendant can be in any universe, the memories that lies dormant and locked in their mind shall one day be unsealed. As their soul blend together once again with The All-Creator's divine being.

___________________________

To learn the truth of the All-Creator, Nahida came to conclusion that the Descendant are partly a vessel. She soon realised that when the Imposter Hunt Decree was established, the Creator was hunted down. Just because the one on the throne had ordered them to.

Nahida looks sadly at you, her eyes were filled with tears. "Oh little one, I'm sorry that story was too much for you." You pulled her to your chest, comforting her like a small child. "No... no that wasn't it.. I'm crying because.. the people have hurted you so much and they are too blind.. to see that you're already in front of them." she sniffles in between her words, shushing her softly and gently.

"It's alright now my dearest, I do not resent any of them. Though only one, the one who falsely wearing my face to gain their own greed." your voice was still gentle even when in anger. "My Creator what shall I do to find you?" she questions you with her green eyes. "Go with the Aranara, they shall guide you to me."

The Balladeer isn't someone who will ever believe in a god, when his own had abandoned him in this cruel world a long time ago. He loath the tears that will leaves his eyes, hates the way how 'human' he is. He couldn't comprehend on how he had such empathy, he deemed it as worthless for he is a puppet for a god or a gnosis to rely in. why can't he have such a thing...

"My precious creation, why must you be sad.." a gentle warm hands wiped his tears away, his eyes widens.

In this plane of pale blue consciousness, he knew it was his. He gazed to the figure that holds him, 'Creation? Am I.. Sad?' his inner self questions. It was so conflicting that his eyes were in frenzy, he didn't even realize himselves that there were tears once again falling down his eyes but this time it was like a waterfall.

It was all too much, he couldn't take it anymore. His unknown heart breaking into pieces for the 4th time, this time there wasn't a betrayal. Just Kunikuzushi trying to reach out to the Balladeer, to not shut him out again.

His hics and sniffles was so raw that he felt weak like a newborn baby. the hands gently let him sit, a soft hum to calm his ever racing mind. Until he's finally aware of the being in front of him, he was cradled in their lap. "Little one, have you found yourselves yet?" he was a bit frantic at the presence. Quickly standing up and away from them.. "Who... Who are you?" he wanted to yell but he couldn't due to the soreness of his throat from crying.

"I am your creator, my dear." You looked at him, sad at what had happened to him. "Don't play with me! My creator, my own mother had already abandoned me long time ago!"

"Even if you're my creator, why did You abandoned me!?" He screamed. His eyes were filled with loathing and anger, a hint of sadness and betrayal along with it.. "I never abandoned you Kunikuzushi, do you remember the seelie that accompanied you. When you were abandoned by Beelzebul, until now when you are sleeping."

Yes he does remember, how could he not.. The seelie that always left stars whemever it flies beside him, whenever it fret over the fact that if he had fainted or just sleeping, the seelie that share it's warmth with him when he got betrayed and the moments where it always seems to care for him more than any other he had met. Was it you, all along?

You smile softly at him "I never once abandoned you, even if the one on the throne that everybody worships didn't even glance at you the slightest. I can never abandon you.. For you are my beloved creation."

All this time he had thought that he was alone, with only the star seelie that never once left his side. He thought.. He was never enough to be recognised, wanting to earn favour and burn the anyone who dares to defy him. Even when the skies were fake, he never thought that it was you. He looks down, "Why did the betrayals always happened to me..?"

"You simply don't know what is mortality all about, how fragile they are even so some glasses can be harder to break at some point.

Beslzebul left you because you reminded her of her sister Makoto, 'Baal' the one who she had lost a long time ago. She was a gentle ruler, she couldn't fight unlike Ei. Yet, she is the brain of the twin while Ei was the brawn. They complete each other. Their eternity was different, Makoto leans toward the humans more understanding the concept of mortality.

Even when she didn't realise it, she couldn't lie to her feelings. She saw Makoto in you, little one."

His tears are now overflowing, he hugs you tightly unexpectedly. Crying into your chest with a broken sob, you comfort him with letting him cry in his own plane of consciousness. Humming softly in order to remind him that he's not alone to bear the suffering.

"One day, you shall be granted to have your own name, one where you shall call it your own and cherish it." The warmth that filled his unknown heart comforted him so much, for how long he longed to feel this way again. Cared for and treasured, he's grateful to finally call you His God.

He awoken with a gentle nudge from the seelie, somehow he felt a beating in his chest. The seelie guided his hand to feel the soft thump in his chest, it was a heart. His Heart...

How kind were you to grant him with such gift..

-To Be Continued-

Additional Tags: @trasshy-artist @salvationprodigy @eimuros @bittersweetorpheus @shizunxie @iruiji @mulandi @akemisamui @angelkazusstuff @caffeine-mess @valeriele3

Love you all!! sorry if I can't tagged some of you</3

[ethereal-blossom]

I have a new suggestion for Victor's possible fairytale after the second Halloween event! I'll put it under the spoiler cut for people who don't want JP spoilers 💌

After Victor's first birthday event and now the second Halloween event, it seems clear Victor has a curse that revolves around death. I googled "Fairytale death" and it brought me to Godfather's death written by the brother's Grimm.

I only read the Wikipedia synopsis, but it's about a poor dad with twelve children finding a Godfather for his thirteenth and last son. God and the Devil offered to take on the role yet the dad declined both as one condones poverty and the other deceives mankind. The dad finds Death and makes him the child's Godfather as Death takes away the rich and the poor without discrimination.

Death promises to the son that the son will become a famous physician. So when the son visits a sick person, he can tell whether that person is going to die based on where Death will appear: at the head if the person is going to live, at the feet if going to die.

One time, the son visits the sick king and Death appears at his feet. Feeling pity for the king, the son turns the king around so Death is now standing at his head. The son gives the king the special herbs and he lives. Death is angry but doesn't punish the boy because Godfather privileges. However, if the son does it again he'll die.

But then the princess gets sick and the son does it again because pretty privilege turns people into simps. So, he tricks Death again and this time the son does die because for every life that is supposed to die yet lives another life has to be lost.

So, what I think is interesting is that Heaven, Hell, and Death are themes in Victor's events. The introduction event Wrapped in Wicked Romance starts like this:

(God = Heaven, Devil = Hell, Grim Reaper = Death)

And with the mention of royalty in the fairytale I immediately had to think of Queen Victoria. So, is this maybe the fairytale that Cybird chose for him?

People have noticed that Elbert plays more of a Snow White role in his route even though he has the curse of the Evil Queen. It makes me wonder if Victor will also share more similarities with the son despite having the power of Death (although I don't think Death is a villain here. It's just trying to be a Godfather and keep the order of life in balance). In this post I talk about my theory of Victor also coming from poverty and being sort of adopted by the queen. But also, someone in the comment section talked about the theory of Victor's curse playing a role in her death (as Cybird is hinting she's dead) and I feel like that could definitely work with this fairytale!

[novanoms]

Your limbs are constantly on fire, the home you once knew laid waste before you. Or, perhaps this is all you’ve ever known, the cacophony of weapons firing throughout the night and day and you scramble through debris like a rat. Whichever it is, this place wears on even the toughest of souls. That is, if there are any left. Soulless creations scatter the battlefield, intent on destroying anything that makes the mistake of crossing their path.

You don’t know if there are others, how you’ve survived this long is a mystery just as great. Your luck seems to run dry as you descend into the earth, the winding paths of precious entities carving their way to its center. The deeper you go, the more confusing it gets, monsters rage against the creations that stomped upon the earth. You don’t even know what’s real or not, hiding and running and praying that you might see the sunrise again.

It comes to a head as you manage to get ambushed by one of these things, metal or flesh, it doesn’t matter, only that it seeks to end the pitiful existence you called life. You can feel the pain that laced through your leg as fresh crimson spills from its wound. You can do nothing but hide your face, trembling in every limb at the shadow that is about to snuff you out. Only for the loud sound of something crashing in, the clashing of steel and the deafening silence that follows after. As it drags on to a concerning degree, you look up. Only to see an armored titan, plating of gold and white, staring back at you. It has no eye holds from what you can tell, but the frozen body language says more than enough. This being is just as shocked to see you, as you are to see it.

You’re surprised with the fact that your shock wares off quickly, though it could stem from the pain in your leg. As soon as you timidly move to scoot back, the armor-clad being seems to shake out of their frozen stupor. They stammer for a second before clearing their throat, accompanied by a poor attempt at regaining their towering posture, only to slump once more as you flinch. It’s very…confusing. A stalemate, one could say. Your heart races as you watch the mini-giant, scooting back until you hit a wall within the strange confines. You let out a soft hiss as your leg jolts, which has an immediate reaction on the towering knight. They close the distance, either ignoring or completely ignorant to your fear in favor of seeking out your injury. It’s only when you pull back from them do they stop for a second, though they’re already on one knee in front of you, arms extended to grasp at the limb. Even kneeling, the gleaming armor towers above like a grand statue. “You are safe.” They say, with noticeable hesitation. Their hands hovering at your sides as your adrenaline starts to fade, leaving behind an aching, sleep deprived shell in its wake. You can’t quite remember what happened next, your eyelids growing far too heavy to keep open. For a moment, you saw the panicked flinch of the entity in front of you as you start to slump, feeling cool metal and leather palms hold you up as drowsiness claims your muddled mind. Next was the overwhelming heat that billowed in front of you, quickly engulfing your form as you descend into a plush, warm space. So soft and warm, the subtle beating of a heart, the rumbling of a voice, and the feeling of being held so close. A gently sigh seeps out of you, allowing this moment to rest.

—-

He didn’t know what to do, what to think. A human? Here? And most importantly, alive? Humanity was gone, reduced to nothing. Or…so he thought, the shock that overwhelmed him at seeing such a small and fragile thing still ringing through his ears. He didn’t know what to do, they were hurt, afraid, he needed to do something. Even though it wasn’t his job, it was his purpose to protect, a purpose that was stripped from him long before mankind’s extinction. This instinct pushed him forward, slipping the injured soul into his maw as he pulled them in as gently as possible. Something both settled and disturbed him as he trailed their decent, the feeling of the fragile beings form filling up their space. He could still taste the iron from their injury at the back of his throat, not caring for it one bit. Now he rests for the moment, his heart fluttering with every tiny movement, every soft breath. The entity lets out a small huff, startled and still shaking off the remnants of it as he gently pressed into the living mass within him. “You are safe. I promise.” He whispered, holding his lightly distended stomach with a palm as he contemplated what to do next.

[sunny-mercya]

Sounds like a Melody – Rewind

Apollo x Male Reader

Fandom -> Percy Jackson Series

Requested by -> @r0sep3tal

Masterlist | Part 2 | Related OS | Song

Give me more tragedy, more harmony and fantasy, my dear

Set it alight, we're head over heels in love

In the darkest hour of Greece's history, when the rotten torture—from Pandora's Box—of sickness, death, despair and destruction rolled through the lands—which mankind wouldn't be able to remember at all, although the evidence being buried deep for the decades of the future—and where doom had being sealed the fates of humanity—there was a minimal ray of sunshine, peeking through the gloomy skies above.

Apollo had been forbidden by Lord Zeus, his own father, to descend down onto earth and giving his help and blessing to the humans—which looked so pitifully and utterly gracelessly, that there certainly was a truth about their bound destiny of doom.

Even so, Apollo did his best to abide by Zeus rules—or at least tried to—but something, someone, seemed to call out to him—a pull of lulling towards the below down of Greece and Apollo just got a little bit too curious.

When Apollo got down from Mount Olympus, in a moment where Zeus—like a scold little boy or more like, fearful husband—tried to appease Hera—after she found out that her dear Husband cheated again—and being unobservant towards his duty of watching over the other gods and goddesses—Apollo looked, in the eyes of humans, like a literal ray of Sunshine touching—like a kiss—the very ground of earth.

Apollo didn't need to roam around and through the lands of Greece too long—ignoring the longing and pleading eyes, infected with pain and suffering despair of tormenting sadness, from pitiful humans—finding the source of such tingly nerve pulling rather quickly.

~~~

There you lay—it's you, Demosonos and Son of Nxy, you're the source of it. Apollo hesitated, aware of what you're capable of—knowing from first hand experience, more like watching from afar, how monstrous strong and dangerous you were—in his steps, bow slowly drawn and ready to shoot an arrow through your skull. He didn't though.

Slowly Apollo comes near to you, observant wary as he's a warrior and son of Zeus after all. Though he soon came to realise, that you—besides of who you are or once supposed to be as Zeus's marks of banning, were clear like the stars in the night sky, scarring your skin—weren't a fearsome threat after all. Not anymore at least.

How you laid there, barely—nonexistent—conscious, spasming and withering in pain and gasping for breath, whimpering in between and newborn like cries escaping your blood smeared lips—you're even more pitiful to watch than the humans.

The young god—definitely a child of Zeus, that glint of superiority in his eyes was a trademark all of Zeus children had—looks down on you, with his ocean blue eyes and for moment within your misery of pain, you're lost in his beauty of sun kissed skin and golden locks of hair—but then, with his soft lips—so kissable—he calls you, simply and blunt, pitiful.

You scrunched up your face the best you could, wanting to show this arrogant god just how angry and strong you are. You couldn't, haven't the strength anymore left in you and all you wanted to do was sleep.

Maybe he was right and you're truly are pitiful, worthless even. You're Demosonos—son of Nxy—and couldn't even beat Zeus like Mother, she had such high hopes of exceptions, had asked you to do. Disappointment.

You're Demosonos—son of Nxy—and........who are you again? What's your name? Do you even have one?

Apollo wasn't sure why—or maybe he does know, because when it comes to fates and upon destiny, the inner core of the person always knows—he picked you up and brought you to his own realm of clouds, but he did—fully aware of the upcoming thundering rumbling.

Till the day of trial would come—and it does come as Zeus wouldn't let such disobedience pass so easily—Apollo took care of you—treating your wounds, feeding you ambrosia till you couldn't stomach it anymore and overall letting you heal and recover.

Through that time and process of healing, Apollo got to know you more and the pull of fate and tightened more around his heart.

~~~

»How dare you to not only disobey me, but to also grant that shameful excuse of vile monstrosity your protection?!« Zeus voice hollered through the Olympian Senate—voice rich with brewing crackling thundering anger.

Apollo didn't flinched this time, when his father had raised his voice and directed his anger at him. This time Apollo stood his ground, tall and confidently.

»Don't you dare to speak ill of [Name] as if he's nothing but a creature! Not only did I grant him protection but I also vowed it to him as [Name] is my destined partner, the mighty stars themselves said so, for eternity!« Apollo too, could raise his voice in anger just like his father

»Mighty Lord and Father of the Olymp, if I may speak as I have perhaps a–« you begun, but Zeus cut you off with his own voice.

»You vile creature dare to speak in the grace of mine?! I will–«

»Father! Let him speak or I will make it happen that the nights are endless!«

A chaos of voices and discussions broke out. In the end they all do came to an agreement.

Zeus, pleased with the idea—still disgruntled about it, that even though he would rather kill or bann you into something akin to death, but couldn't as it is prophetic fate from the stars of stars themselves and that means, Zeus couldn't do anything about it—that he has you now in his control, had given his blessing to his son.

The agreement was; you pledging endless—for eternity and beyond—loyalty to Zeus and in times of war you're the guard dog—personal demon per se—of the Olymp.

To fully archive this, there had been not only a binding wedding ceremony—to Apollo of course and a pledge of blood vow to Ares, because if you went out of control or go against Zeus, it would be Ares himself who has to kill you—but you were also gifted a new name and personality—[Name], minor god of Tranquility and slumber.

Your old powers are still inside you and could only be released with Zeus permission or in a moment of desperat need—immediately danger for example.

~~~

Give me more tragedy, more harmony and fantasy, my dear

The ringing of your laughter, it sounds like a melody

[mintea-in-space]

Nihil and Sister Ghoul Clergy Au:

Detailed descriptions and some art under the cut, mostly their young selves before the other Papas came to power. I just felt like rambling

Nihil: Air/Water Multi (until the failed transition)

Born into a higher ranking family in hell, Nihil has always been the black sheep of his family. His lineage has served Satan and the throne for eons, but he never really lived up to his father’s expectations. He’s found by Sister after being cast out, and desperate to reclaim some of his honor, begs her to take him with her to the surface. Taking pity on him, (and seeing the perfect ghoul for her to manipulate) she agrees. He, Sister, and Psaltarian form a tight knit pack.

Still a stickler for tradition! Sometimes he fears that’s all he has left. The moment Secondo was born there was no doubt in his mind who his favorite son was. His little guppy is his best friend, and the two were two peas in a pod for a very, very long time. Swimming with Secondo in the lakes of hell are some of his fondest memories.

Air is his primary element and culture, but Nihil has one hell of a siren song on him. It’s been his undoing on more than one occasion, he often doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Covered in short soft fur, with little bursts of fluffy feathers on his ears, elbows and shoulders. His fins were sharper. Almost everything was burned away in the failed transition ritual. His horns cracked and fell off, and his tail was so terribly mangled most of it had to be amputated. His gills charred and closed. This irreparably damaged his relationship with not only Secondo, but all of his sons. Primo angry that once again he had to step up to do what Nihil should’ve, Secondo angry because his father removed any and all commonalities they had, and Terzo would only take on his brothers’ pain and grief, and become angry that Nihil did that to them.

Sister Imperator: Fire/Quint Multi

Imp is one of the highest ranking ghouls in all of hell. She was an advisor before taking a leadership role, and was summoned by Satan himself to embark on an unholy mission on the surface. She is calculating, every step she’s ever taken has brought her here, and nothing will get in her way of spreading His message.

Or so she thought. Nihil was not her first choice, really. But it had to be someone. And he was swayed so easily, it would make her job that much easier. She and Psalitarian agreed on the end that he was perfect.

And then she realized she was falling for him. What started as manipulative seduction was quickly turning into real, true affection. It throws her for a loop at first, knocks her off kilter enough that all of a sudden they have a relationship, a real one. And one she’s fiercely possessive over.

When the events at Whisky A Go Goat happen, it takes everything in her to not burn the whole stupid bar down and spit on the ashes. She’s angry, of course she is, but as pathetic as Nihil’s groveling is she can’t help herself. Copia’s (and his twin’s) conception throws her for another loop, and both kits are sent back to hell, raised in separate families and in ignorance. Copia himself was raised by a fire pack, chosen by Imp herself, but none of them really know where he came from. It hurts her to send her sons away, and in her grief she isolates. That’s where Nihil’s failed transition comes in, and she realizes she can’t count on anyone but herself. At least Primo seems promising.

Is genuinely a good Mother Superior. She cares for mankind, in a slightly twisted way. Belief and awe give power, and as the ministry grows, so does Sister’s reputation. The humans of the abbey, her abbey, are under her protection. The outsiders…not so much. She doesn’t take kindly to disrespect, and the humans that she keeps close, (and one…special ghoul) are loyal to a fault. You make an enemy of one, you make an enemy of them all.

Has no fur. Her fingers and feet are blackened, like ash. Her horns and paw pads glow an eerie green. Fire is her primary element and culture. Can change her form to become pure light, a trait Copia inherited, often looking little a wisp of green flame. In the early days of the ministry, she and Psaltarian would hunt in the woods together, and Satan help any poor soul that was led astray by flickering colored lights after dark.

If you’ve made it this far, my ask box is open! I have so many thoughts about this concept that I can’t wait to talk about!

[fanficsiwillneverwrite]

On my umpteenth rewatch of lok, I had a sudden interest in old Zuko…. And let’s just say another wip is brewing in my brain now about Zuko and his involvement in book 3 :/

Zuko looks in the mirror and sees only a face he no longer recognizes: old, long past its prime. An old wound haunting him, even how many years later. It happened so long ago; only yesterday. Shaky hands rub the rough skin as the memory takes hold. It was for the better, he once told himself long ago. It led him on the path of good, toward the light. But the thought of giving such a punishment to Izumi… He admittedly was not perfect when it came to raising her, but he was no Ozai.

Through the reflection, he sees Akari, the Firelord’s senior aide, emerge from the golden doors. “Lord Zuko,” she says with a respectful and low bow. Her voice is distant, muffled, despite being so near. Just a reminder of his aging body. “The Firelord will see you now.”

He nods, acknowledging her, but his focus remains on the stranger–no, the old man–staring back at him, copying every move he makes. Akari backs away to give him space. And he touches a few wrinkles. Uncle always said they were a sign of living, far better than the alternative. His laughter still echoes in his mind; the steam of hot tea still lingers around him.

He moves away from his reflection and into the throne room where his daughter sits high above him in all her glory. Zuko smiles as he bows–and his old bones crack as he bends. Another reminder that the old man in the mirror and the boy who thought his destiny was to capture the Avatar were one in the same. “The Firelord has requested an audience with me. I would be interested in knowing what for.”

“Hello Dad,” greets Izumi gently as she stands. She approaches him, a familiar look of care mixed with concern permanently captures her face each time she looks at him. He knows it well. Old age brings on pity. No, Uncle would say, old age brings on care. They hug and, suddenly, he is drunk with the scent of familiarity. Once Mai’s favorite perfume worn now by a grieving daughter who wants only to keep her mother close. “How are you?”

“I am fine, daughter,” he assures, his hand squeezing her shoulder as if to emphasize the fact. Sadness lingers around them with Mai’s passing just over a year ago. “Though, perhaps it is I who should be asking you that very question. Avatar Korra has led us into a new age where spirits and mankind must now live together in harmony. As the Firelord, it is your duty to make her decision a reality. With some guidance from me, of course, if it doesn’t interfere with my nap time.”

She rolls her eyes as a smile forms. “I think sometimes I can make better sense of your snoring than your political babble,” she teases.

“Be careful what you say next, daughter,” he shoots back. “I still have claim to the throne, you know.”

“Like I’d give it back,” she tells him playfully. But her face turns serious. And like a stuck bandage, the news of why she has summoned him is ripped open quickly to ease the anticipation: “I’ve just received word from President Raiko in Republic City. It seems… Harmonic Convergence has brought back the Airbenders.”

His heart feels as if it has sunk. The Fire Nation’s greatest burden, their deepest regret—now, so suddenly, fixed? He would have to see it to believe it, especially if Raiko is the one reporting it. All the man cares about is the votes. “What?”

“I haven’t yet received word from Tenzin, but there has been at least one Airbender sighting in Caldera alone. Most, it seems, are in the Earth Kingdom.”

“That could mean trouble.”

The Earth Queen remains bitter over land now the United Republic of Nations and everything surrounding it, Air Temple Island included: Earth Kingdom territory, she makes false claims. While her father was timid, mostly oblivious as a leader, Hou-Ting is loud, demanding, and a complete tyrant.

Zuko turns, hurrying out the room. There is no time to waste. “I’ll head straight to Ba Sing Se—”

His daughter is quick to stop him. “The Fire Nation should not have any involvement there, dad. You know this.” His intent would be to liberate this new wave of Airbenders from the grasps of great tyrannical power, but the world might view it as another Firelord’s attempt to again dismantle the Air Nation. He blinks, seeing clearly now as his daughter faces him again. “Furthermore,” Izumi continues cautiously; they’re always dancing around his state of retirement. The nation is hers–it is her birthright–but he makes diplomatic trips around the world to assure peace, to continue what he and Avatar Aang started so long ago, yesterday. “A man your age should really be fretting over pai sho and gardening. Not the state of the world.”

The man she is describing is Uncle. Not him, never him. “I will not turn my back on the world when it still needs me,” Zuko insists. His reflection shows an achy old man with a story long ago completed, but as long as his heart still beats and the fire still burns, he can be useful.

“I know,” she says, “but… you can only do so much before it becomes too overwhelming for you.” She adjusts her glasses as a sigh escapes her. “Dad, I care only for your safety–”

“I am still capable–”

“–which is why I think it perfectly sensible for you to take in a ward.”

He stops, hurt–offended. “A-a ward?”

“One of Master Muromachi’s young pupils,” she continues. “Someone who can be your companion. Someone who will watch your back and defend you when you’re unable.”

Zuko huffs, rubbing his forehead in frustration. His daughter thinks him unable, an invalid of his craft now just because of a few wrinkles. Spirits! He is Lord Zuko, Leader of the Fire Nation and the Avatar’s Firebending Master. And she thinks he needs a sidekick? Some noble boy defending his honor? “No, absolutely not. I don’t need some child protecting me.”

Izumi rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a suggestion, dad. Master Muromachi is expecting you. We’ll go down there this afternoon.”

He stomps away stubbornly, like a child not getting his way. The roles were reversed long ago, just yesterday when he was still in charge, when he was still capable. “I can choose my own ward, can’t I?”

“Of course–”

“Then I’ll go on my own, if it pleases the Firelord.”

He exits before she can answer. Anger boils within him. He hates being the man who is old, the man who needs help. Most of his friends are gone now and this new generation is perfectly competent, his daughter being one of them, but the fire still burns inside him. The face in the mirror is the face he saw long ago–yesterday–when there was no scar.

The Fire Nation Academy for Gifted Boys is a secondary school for sons of nobles. It teaches Nonbenders how to fight through the art of swordsmanship. Only the best, or most wealthy, can attend. And the training is rigorous, not for the faint hearted. Tom-Tom became one of the academy’s pupils when he came of age, mastering sword fighting at the age of fourteen. Firelord Ozai always dismissed the school’s teachings, saying Nonbenders could never truly be masters without the ability of bending. In his final years, without his bending, his father learned the way of the sword, though he never tried to understand the relationship between a man and his blade, thus never becoming a full master of the craft.

These days the school is just as rigorous with Master Muromachi, a stern and, dare he say, cruel man, in charge of this new generation of fighters. The boys stand straight in a line when Lord Zuko arrives. Eyes forward, not one hair out of place, not a single crease in their suits. Their movements are in sync as they all bow low when Muromachi introduces him to them.

“You have honored this school with your presence, Lord Zuko,” Muromachi says with a bow of his own. He moves aside for Zuko to properly examine his students. “Please, choose anyone you think is worthy.” He gestures to the tallest of the group: tan skinned and golden eyed, Zuko sees a darkness in him that brings only suspicion. The way the boy eyes him; it’s not like the others. “Eigo here is our star pupil.”

“Is that so?”

Muromachi gestures again and Eigo assumes a fighting stance as he draws his sword. He dances with it around Zuko–impressive but, still, there is something about him that he doesn’t quite like–before returning to his spot in line.

“Very good,” Zuko tells him, “though I find your lack of moderation rather… unsettling.”

The boy’s expression darkens at the criticism. Not suitable for his company at all. Muromachi moves on without a visible reaction: “Pao,” he calls. And the next boy moves skillfully around the room with his blades. A mindless routine, practiced over and over again until perfection. He does what he is told and nothing more.

“Your moves, though highly skillful, lack originality,” Zuko notes. He will find something wrong for each of them. He does not need a protector, nor does he want one.

Muromachi becomes more tense as they move down the line, each boy weaker than the last. This Academy is a show and these so-called warriors are nothing more than performers this day in age, not like how they used to be, he will tell his daughter later over tea. That is why he did not choose a child today. That is why he should not have a ward.

Finally, they arrive at the last: the smallest of the group. A softness exists within him that the other boys do not have. Short hair above his ears cut in a wonky bowl shape and fierce blue eyes with a sparkle in them that shows he is ready, not to win but to fight for what is right—he knows those eyes. It hits him, suddenly. A girl, disguised as a young boy.

“Lee!” orders Muromachi, sweating profusely at this point. Zuko instantly understands the name is false, an alias to hide her true nature.

And the girl disguised as a boy begins her dance around Zuko. Her movements are hesitant. She nearly trips over her own two feet. Her two swords do not move together as one but rather as completely separate entities. An amateur compared to her peers. Muromachi is visibly appalled by her performance, but remains silent out of respect for his guest. Zuko, admittedly, is intrigued by the girl. Why would she openly go through such turmoil?

[waitingonher]

44+7 with percy please ?

EMMY'S 100 EVENT CELEBRATION

percy jackson + give me a kiss first. + i'll pay.

content warning: nothing

authors note: pls im on fire rn. 3 fics released in 3 days?!?! i LOVE not being in a writing slump! oh and why the employees would let little teenagers hold a $130 necklace?? idk 🤒🤒

the expanse of the jewelry shop almost seems dizzying as you roam through the rows and rows of display cases. you and percy eye a variety of accessories, from diamond encrusted rings to dangly ruby earrings. but as your boyfriend follows only a few steps behind you, he thinks that in comparison, you’re the real jewel here. and yes, he does acknowledge how cheesy that realization is, but with the way your eyes are twinkling at the sight of everything and the way you have that gorgeous smile on display, it doesn’t seem very cheesy anymore. 

moments later, you find yourself holding an absolutely gorgeous necklace that’s caught your eye. the way it gleamed and glistened underneath the bright white lighting of the store had you hooked the moment you saw it through the display case. looking up, curious green eyes meet your gaze, brows raised in question, “do you like that one?” percy asks, studying your features. 

“yeah, it’s super pretty,” you nod your head with enthusiasm, “i think the color of the jewel goes well with my skin tone,” holding the necklace against your neck, you wiggle your brows. 

your boyfriend hums. but not as a sign of agreement, more so just acknowledging your comment, because in all honesty, percy’s never really understood the whole “it goes well with my skin tone” thing. the truth is, your boyfriend wholeheartedly believes that you could pull off any color, and he means any color. throw on the ugliest shade of orange known to mankind and he’d still end up complimenting you. 

“how much is it?” percy inquires, mentally going through his wallet. unsurprisingly, if he doesn’t have enough cash for the necklace, your boyfriend would find some way to pay for it. even if it means singing or dancing (very poorly) on the side of the street for some stranger’s pity change. 

you didn’t even think of the price. oops. grabbing the tiny tag, you turn it around to read the price, and in big bold numbers, it reads $130. so much for adding it to your jewelry collection. you groan and flip the tag towards percy, “love, look at the price! if only it wasn’t so expensive, then i could-” 

“i’ll pay,” percy declares, his voice confident and sure, as if dropping $130 for you was no big deal. for you, having your boyfriend spend that much money on you is absolutely ludicrous. but for percy, he’d spend any amount of cash if it means seeing you happy, and if this necklace that matches your skin tone so well makes you happy, then so be it, “no if’s or but’s. let me pay for it, y/n.” 

did you hear him correctly? percy wants to pay for your $130 necklace? of course it’s not unusual for him to offer to pay for your things, because he always does. but the thing is, he always ends up paying for it in the end. and you fear that today is going to be the same. 

you wave your hand in dismissal, “no, i can’t let you do that. besides, i bet they have some cheaper knockoffs online,” your mind already fills with all of the sites you could check, and you hope this argument makes your boyfriend back down.

percy quirks a brow, “and does a cheaper knockoff guarantee good quality?” he knows you, so he knows your vehement hate for crappy jewelry that’ll end up rusting or oxidizing after a couple of showers. 

“okay, well i guess not, but-” 

“come on babe, you already know how this is gonna end,” percy gives you a knowing grin, as if he’s replaying all your past dates in his head, “so let’s skip the bickering and get to the part where you let me pay for this necklace.” 

boy, is he determined. you sigh, knowing that no matter what you do or say, percy will somehow figure out a way of getting you and the necklace to the register, “fine. but i’m covering lunch today, okay?” 

your boyfriend nods his head, “sure,” but his less than eager tone coupled with his overly exaggerated smile makes you not very sure if you’ll be able to actually spend any money today, “now let’s go pay.” 

with that, you and percy head in the direction of the register, his hand on the small of your back as you lead the way. yet again, another win for your boyfriend. 

“y/n, wait,” percy reaches for your shoulder and turns your body around to face him. he can’t let you walk away with a free necklace, can he? you hum in reply, awaiting his response. good, his brain is finally working and he’s going to say nevermind, you think. a win for you! or so you think, “give me a kiss first,” percy adds, his straight face morphing into a cocky smirk. not a win for you.

but hey, who are you to deny a free necklace and a kiss from your boyfriend? you shake your head and roll your eyes at him, but percy can’t help but look at your smile. now that’s what he wants to see, your beautiful, beautiful smile. your boyfriend leans down as he gently cups the sides of your face and places a kiss on your lips. it’s short and it’s soft, but it’s perfect. and it may be even more perfect than the very necklace in your hand. 

[qinluofu]

⊹﹒blue lock boys + younger sibling headcanons ♡

nagi, reo, isagi & barou reacting to a gn!younger sibling building an ugly snowman of them

₍ᵔ⑅..ᵔ₎　　⤷　　masterlists ➷ send in requests

NAGI thought everything was a hassle, so when you pulled him over and showed him a snowman you made of him, he had to pray to god and refrain himself from saying that the snowman was a hassle. as you stared at him waiting for a response, he didn't even look at the snowman properly and only hummed a bit and said "yeah yeah its super cute", it was such a half assed response that you crossed your arms and stomped your feet, demanding a better compliment.

he sighed and took one more look at the snowman, oh my god it was ugly as hell . he scratched his head, thinking about what to say and finally thought of something, "it looks... alot like me" that was a straight up lie, but you seemed convinced as you giggled and clapped your hands and ran off to god knows where.

REO tried to be nice, really he did. but this monstrosity of a snowman in front of him made him test his limits. especially when you pulled him over from soccer practice, excitedly jumping around and pointing to that hideous thing, "it looks just like you nii-chan!!!" reo chuckled nervously, "it sure does!"

it didn't seem like you were gonna leave him alone anytime soon and he really needed to go back to practice. so to give in to your antics, reo decided to make a mini snowman right beside yours, putting a few leaves as the hair of the snowman, "there, now it's the both of us as snowmen." he said with a grin, and that seemed to do it, you were giggling none stop as you hugged your brother and said a couple of thank you's before running off to pester another pitiful target.

ISAGI genuinely thought it was cute; unlike reo who tried to be nice he didn't think it was ugly at all. despite the snowman's face and body being entirely out of propotion, the mouth and hands making it look like a 1980s jumpscare, he didn't mind at all! seriously.

and you didn't even need to call him over to see the snowman, he already noticed it and laughed, "is that supposed to be me?" as you nodded your head, he laughed even more. he took off his scarf and tied it around the snowman's neck, "see? now it definitely looks alot more like me" and you were a bundle of joy seeing your brother do that, as you ran up and gave him a hug that could make him fall over.

BAROU was flustered. not in a good way, the snowman was super ugly and not even human looking, it looked nothing like barou who had the most handsome features known to mankind. he sighed as he rubbed his temple, you started to pout thinking that your brother didn't like it at all, but he picked you up to another location with wayyy more snow, and sat you down in his lap.

"this, is how you make a snowman." his hands slowly worked with the snow, making some ball shaped sizes and he managed to put together the perfect snowman. you were amazed, everytime barou showed you something it was almost like he was designated to do it. you replicated his snowman as he taught you along the way, showing you some tricks to do with the snow too. you were happily giggling in his lap as he showed a small smile, patting your head.

summary :

nagi would lie to you, reo would try to be nice, isagi would think its genuinely cute and barou would teach you how to properly make one.

[shotbyafool]

Great Comet lyrics which will eternally cause me to fall to my knees:

I used to be better, I used to be better, I used to be better (x2)

I'm different from you, I'm different from you, I still want to do something -- Or do you struggle too? I pity you, I pity me, I pity you

I love him, I know him

BOLKONSKY: I can hurt you, MARY & BOLKONSKY: I can hurt you, MARY: But I never, ever, ever, ever would

Oh God, I'm frightened, Oh God, I've aged so very much

I disgust myself

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

And your childlike eyes, and your distant smile, I'll never be this happy again

We've done this all before, we were angels once; don't you remember?

Maybe he'll come today, maybe he came already, and he's sitting in the drawing room... and I simply forgot

PIERRE: How dare you touch her?, DOLOKHOV: You can't love her

Oh my mother, my angel, my adored angel mother

Sleep it off, and be happy; we live to love another day

Did I ever look up and see the moon, and the stars, and the sky? Oh, why have I been sleeping?

They say we are asleep until we fall in love, we are children of dust and ashes, but when we fall in love we wake up, and we are a God and angels weep; but if I die here tonight, I die in my sleep

But then why am I screaming? Why am I shaking? Oh God, is there something that I missed? Did I squander my divinity? Was happiness within me the whole time?

I will stand in the dark for you, I will hold you back by force

No, I am well. There's a war going on

PIERRE: You told me once a fallen woman should be forgiven, ANDREI: But I didn't say that I could forgive; I can't

NATASHA: Peter Kirilovich... PIERRE: Pierre

If I were not myself, but the brightest, handsomest, best man on earth, and if I were free, I would get on my knees this instant and ask you for your hand. And for your love.

And glancing at Pierre... oh, Pierre...

Mankind seems so pitiful, so poor, compared to that softened, grateful last glance she gave me through her tears

The comet said to portent untold horrors and the end of the world, but for me, the comet brings no fear; no, I gaze joyfully

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 28/34 - cigarette smoke

[Read on AO3]

The scent of cigarette smoke wakes her, burning her nostrils with its offensive odor.

It reminds her of the days before—when he’d come in the night, speaking in hushed tones with her husband and effectively plotting the end of her life and happiness. The downfall of the family she’d worked so hard to hold together.

It had been a long time since family meant more to her than heartache and regret. She’s not about to let him take it away again. Not when she might have just gotten it back.

“Get out of my house,” she says, her voice coming out strong and commanding despite the late hour.

“Teena,” he intones, as if surprised to find her in her own home. “How nice to see you.” 

She flicks the light on above him, depriving him of the precious darkness he likes to hide behind. He’s always been too theatrical for her taste. It used to intimidate her, even scare her. Not anymore.

She grips Bill’s old shotgun in her hands.

“Are you going to shoot me, Teena?” he says, squinting at her and chuckling a bit under his breath. It doesn’t look like she’ll need to, at this rate. He’s already run himself halfway into the ground without her help.

A pity.

She adjusts her hold on the weapon anyway. It’s loaded, of course. She isn’t a fool. 

“What do you want, Spender?” she asks impatiently. “There’s nothing more for you here.”

“Is there not?” he asks coolly, leaning toward the coffee table where he has set out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “I thought you might like to celebrate. I heard the good news, of course.”

The hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. Of course he’d heard. He has eyes and ears everywhere. She’d given up long ago trying to keep things from him. It never ended well.

“You stay away from my son and his family,” she spits, raising the barrel of the gun toward him. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

“Don’t you mean our son, Teena?” he asks, smirking up at her. “I think that makes them my family too, if I’m not mistaken.”

She reels back in disgust. “You don’t know the meaning of the word,” she says accusingly. “And you are not his father.”

The smoking man chuckles heartily again, taking a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “Oh, I assure you, I am. I’ve had Fox’s DNA tested on several occasions. The results are quite conclusive.”

“I don’t care what your results say,” she says, a fire burning in her eyes. “DNA doesn’t mean one thing when it comes to family.”

Spender purses his lips, but otherwise doesn’t respond. He knows there’s nothing he can say to that.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he says after a tense silence. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t be convinced. I don’t need to be his father to leave an impression on him, do I?” 

He gets to his feet, approaching her one step at a time, unbothered by the weapon she holds.

She holds her ground.

“I can be very persuasive, if you’ll recall,” he says, reaching up to touch a stray tuft of hair on her head.

Enough.

“You relinquished any hold you may have had on him the day you entrusted him to Agent Scully,” she spits, jabbing the mouth of the gun into his side and pushing him back a few inches. “Now, you can either heed my warning, or face the consequences.”

He tilts his head curiously, the ever-present smirk on his face unwavering.

“Is that so? And what might those be?”

He has no idea, does he, how much damage she could do. Decades of righteous anger stored up inside her, a front row seat to some of the most horrific and evil acts of mankind…

“Do you forget that I was there, Spender?” she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I was there from the beginning. I’ve heard it all—seen everything. Can you really risk letting what I know get out?”

“You seem to think I can’t kill you where you stand,” he says, leveling her with a menacing stare, dropping his earlier unaffected demeanor. “If sleeping pills are your method of choice, that can easily be arranged.”

She scoffs at him.

“You won’t kill me,” she says confidently. “And I will not be intimidated by you.”

For all the times she stayed silent, for all the fear that once controlled her—this is her redemption.

C.G.B. Spender is a stain on humanity, and she will not allow him to meddle in her life any longer.

“There are two ways this can end,” she states, her voice low and serious. “Either you disappear, and never come near my family again—or I watch you bleed out all over my grandmother’s rug. Your choice.”

He lifts his cigarette to his lips. As he exhales, a cloud of smoke envelops her face, but she does not waver.

“I’ll go,” he says evenly. “No need to desecrate such a lovely antique.”

That’s the thing she had never noticed as a younger woman: that this man is nothing but a coward. Everything he does, every action he takes, is to save his own skin and nothing more. Only her son was bold enough to stand up to him. He had shown her the cracks in Spender’s armor.

“You’ll stay away from Fox and Dana,” she states, watching as he turns to leave.

He glances back at her.

“Your threat holds no real power over me,” he says offhandedly, notably not agreeing to her terms. Bending down over the coffee table, he picks up the glass of whiskey he’d poured for himself and takes a sip. “Anything you might reveal of my business would be dismissed as the ravings of a madwoman. And you’re right, I don’t want to kill you. But I will, if you force my hand. Nothing will be revealed that I do not wish to be revealed.”

“Ha,” Teena laughs humorlessly. He thinks so highly of himself, like he’s some kind of all-knowing god, controlling the events of this world like some grandiose puppetmaster.

She’s seen behind the curtain, though, and she knows better. She’s learned how to play his game.

“If you think my death would stop the truth from coming out, you’re more of a fool than I thought,” she says. “How long have I known you, Spender, that I wouldn’t have put in failsafes in the event of my death?”

Oh, is that a flicker of fear, she detects?

“I’ve had the better part of three decades to plan for your downfall,” she continues. “I do not fear death as you do.”

His lips remain tightly closed, his whiskey forgotten.

She leans in close, meeting his cold, unfeeling eyes head on.

“And that is why you will always fail.”

There’s a kind of delirious satisfaction in watching him go. It’s a waste of oxygen, she thinks, that he continues to live, but she will not stoop to his level. Not unless absolutely necessary.

He slinks back into the shadows from whence he came, and she prays that’s the last she will ever see or hear from him again. She’s prepared to follow through with her threats, if it’s not.

The shotgun goes back to its rightful place under her bed, with all her husband’s old things. He had been a good man, before he got swept up in Spender’s world. She tries, now, to remember that side of him, and not the one that came later. Enough of her life has been spent being angry, and she’s tired of it. She’s tired of the sadness and the bitterness.

It’s time for her to move past all that.

She lays back in her bed, the one that had almost been her deathbed, and breathes in deeply. Once upon a time, she had needed copious amounts of sleeping pills just to get through the night. The horrors that awaited her when she closed her eyes were unbearable, so traumatizing that she’d even experience nightmarish hallucinations.

But now?

Well, for the first time in years, Teena Mulder has a peaceful night’s sleep.

~~~

I can't make you go a day without Mulder and Scully in the update...

He knows he should be sleeping. Scully is snoozing away on the bed, and has been for quite some time now. Then again, once her head hits a pillow, he knows she’s hard-pressed to stay awake for even five minutes.

Chapter 29/34 - rocking chair

Him, however…

He sits up on the ugly upholstered couch, stretching his neck in a futile attempt to straighten out the kinks.

He’s a father.

The thought is almost beyond comprehension. If he’d actually been asleep, he might have thought it had all been a dream. But, no. He’s sitting in a hospital room a mere ten feet away from Scully, and they’re parents.

It feels both sudden, and like it was years in the making.

Casting a quick glance over to his sleeping partner, he rises to his feet and tiptoes to the doorway, pulling the door open as quietly as possible. The brightness of the fluorescent lights in the hallway causes him to squint momentarily until his eyes can adjust. A sign comes into focus in front of him on the wall, pointing him in the direction he wants to go.

A few hours ago, the nurses came by to check on the three of them, ensuring that they had everything they needed for the night. They’d offered to take the baby to the nursery so that the new parents could rest, and though it was tough to see that little cherubic face go, he and Scully both knew that their nights of getting a somewhat acceptable amount of sleep were numbered. They eventually agreed, and like magic, Scully had slipped into her silk pajamas and under the paper-thin hospital sheets before he even knew what happened.

Now, though, he figures he might as well do something useful with his insomnia-induced awake time, so he heads down the hall until he comes to a large glass window. Behind it, the lights are dimmed, but bright enough that he can see the seven or eight babies sleeping peacefully in individual plastic bassinets.

His cheeks twitch with the beginnings of a smile as he takes in the gentle rise and fall of their little bellies, their first soft breaths of this new life.

Each one has a name tacked onto the plastic bin of the bassinet, proudly announcing the date and time each was born. His eyes roam over every one until he spots her. His little girl.

Madeline Samantha Mulder May 2, 2000 10:13 a.m. 6 lb. 4 oz.  /  18 ¾ in.

Though he’s already had the better part of a day to get to know her, the sight of her still knocks the breath out of his lungs.

Almost as if she senses she is being watched, she begins to fuss, the hat that was keeping her head warm beginning to fall off. He can see wetness building around her eyes, tears leaking out and drying on her rosy cheeks.

Mulder puts his hand on the glass, wishing there was something he could do.

Thankfully, a nurse comes bustling in, bunching the little pink stocking cap back onto her head and whispering soothing words that he can’t hear.

He taps softly against the glass, not loud enough to disturb the other sleeping infants, but sufficient to get the attention of the nurse. After adjusting the baby’s blankets, she looks up, offering Mulder a small smile.

“Can I see her?” he mouths, pointing at his daughter. He raises his wrist and points to the hospital band that declares him the baby’s father, and the woman’s smile widens. After double-checking that Madeline is back asleep, the nurse comes around to the hallway, clipboard in hand.

“Already on that new parent sleep schedule, I see,” she jokes, eyes scanning down a list of names.

Mulder chuckles. “Been practicing for years,” he says.

“Can I see your band?” she asks, and he presents it to her. She checks the ID number on it against the information on her documentation, and nods. “You wanna take her back to your room?”

He hesitates. “Uh, my… wife’s still sleeping. I don’t want to wake her.”

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to calling her that…

“Not a problem, Mr. Mulder. We’ve got a room back here you can use, if you like.”

“That would be great.”

The nurse leads him back to a side room at the back of the nursery equipped with a few chairs and all the necessary supplies.

“Let me go get your little girl,” she says, before disappearing through the doorway. She’s back moments later, the baby now blinking awake in her arms.

Mulder mentally kicks himself.

“I shouldn’t have had you disturb her, she needs her sleep,” he says, a tinge of regret causing his shoulders to slump as she rests little Madeline in the cradle of his arms. Parent rule #1, if your baby is sleeping (by some miracle), don’t even breathe in the wrong direction. Just count your blessings.

He’s already messing it up.

His self-chastisement is cut short by the warm chuckle of the night nurse. “She’ll go right back to sleep, don’t you worry. She’s all tuckered out from her busy day!” she assures him.

Mulder relaxes, smiling a grateful smile up at her.

“Let me know when you’re heading back to your room,” she says, taking her leave.

Once she’s gone, Mulder’s attention falls to the wide-eyed little creature staring up at him. Her eyes are baby blue, a different shade than Scully’s, but he’s probably the only person on the planet that could tell you so. The flutter of her eyelashes mesmerizes him.

“Hi,” he breathes, tears involuntarily pooling in his eyes for what must be the millionth time that day. Maddie wriggles in her tightly swaddled blankets, and Mulder tugs on them to make sure they don’t fall loose.

After some effort, one tiny little arm escapes its confines despite his attempt at stopping it. He shakes his head with a breath of laughter, reaching out with his free hand to let her wrap his finger in her miniscule fist. With his thumb, he begins tracing soft circles on her warm, baby soft skin.

Has he ever held a hand so small? Five perfect, pudgy fingers on each hand. The tiniest fingernails he’s ever seen. That cute button nose and chubby cheeks. Rosebud lips and a chin that he’s noticed juts out just a little when she’s about to cry.

She’s perfect, his Madeline. And he vows to protect her from all the harm in this world.

“Sorry for waking you up, baby girl,” he whispers, lifting her fist to his lips and placing a kiss there. “Don’t tell mommy.”

Her wide eyes stare up at him, trusting and content.

“Come here,” he says, and he shifts her so she’s upright, then transfers her to his chest. The second her cheek—still sticky from tears—falls against his chest, her eyes flutter shut. He can feel her every breath, laying like this. From the rise and fall of her chest to the almost imperceptible exhales of air from her nose, there is a living breathing person relying on him now.

What had he ever done to deserve this?

He rubs her back, patting lightly at a steady rhythm that he hopes is comforting and relaxing. The repetitive motion plus the rocking chair ought to be enough to put any person to sleep—even himself.

Her fist curls against the neckline of his worn, gray t-shirt, fastening it in her iron grip. He lets his cheek fall against her head and breathes in deeply. This is a moment he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he mumbles, his lips brushing against her head before he pulls back.

He pauses for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. He thinks he can hear a clock ticking somewhere in the hallway, and a door somewhere in the distance snicks shut.

He lowers his voice even further, speaking so only his baby can hear.

“I’m in love with your mommy.”

The words are barely audible, but they’re the truth. And a truth spoken softly is better than nothing.

“What do you think of that, huh?”

On his shoulder, Madeline’s face has gone slack, a little bubble peeking out between her lips with each even breath she takes. She’s fast asleep, and in hardly any time at all.

He prays the pattern will continue when they get home.

For a good half hour, he stays planted in that chair, humming softly to every song he can think of that might qualify as a lullaby. Eventually though, after two rounds of Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis, his own eyes begin to droop shut.

He’s loath to part with her, but the nurse stops by again asking if he’d like her to take the baby back to her bassinet, and he agrees. Before long, he’s back in the hall, the phantom weight of Madeline on his shoulder as he carefully opens the door to suite 509.

“Mulder?” he hears her voice, raspy and disoriented. The sliver of light from the hall illuminates her face, and she blocks it out with a raised hand, squinting adorably. “Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, making his way back to the couch.

“Were you trying to sleep on that thing?” she asks, looking at the couch in disdain. He wants to laugh at the messiness of her hair sticking up every which way, but instead he feels his heart clench at the sight of her.

I love you, he thinks.

“Mulder…”

He realizes he hasn’t answered her question, so he clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Might be a little short, but not bad,” he says.

The furrow of Scully’s eyebrows is visible even just by the light of the moon streaming through the horizontal window blinds.

“I sat there earlier. It’s terrible,” she says, confusion lacing her features.

Mulder shrugs, not sure what else to say.

She purses her lips, the expression on her face one he recognizes to be her puzzle-solving face. He’s seen it plenty of times at crime scenes, but he doesn’t have a clue what it may mean in this context.

“Come over here,” she says.

He looks up, his eyes meeting hers.

She’s serious.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stands from the couch, approaching Scully cautiously lest she change her mind.

But instead of changing her mind, she shuffles backward, making space on the not quite queen-sized bed for Mulder to lay down.

“How is she?” Scully asks knowingly as the bed dips below his weight.

He toes his shoes off, swinging his legs up on the bed and tucking them beneath the covers.

“She’s perfect, Scully.”

She smiles. Her hand reaches out as he’s settling into the mattress, and catches his hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and he hopes she can’t feel his heart hammering in his chest.

This somehow feels different than the other times they’ve shared a bed. Unlike those times, there’s no great need for comfort and security, and no cow has flown through the roof of the building.

It’s just two parents trying to catch some shut-eye. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Thanks for being here, Mulder,” Scully mumbles sleepily, her eyes having fallen shut once again. “Thanks for being her dad.”

He squeezes her hand once in acknowledgement. There are too many words he wishes he could say, gratitude he wants to express for allowing him to do this with her, to be a part of it. For giving Maddie his last name. For honoring his sister. He doesn’t even know where to begin, but now isn’t the time anyway. He is rendered functionally mute.

The air conditioner hums in the silence that settles, and he counts the seconds, sure that she must have gone back to sleep.

Just as he begins to feel himself drifting off, he hears her again.

It’s almost inaudible. Spoken like a secret into the night, an accidental admission that wasn’t meant for his ears. Part of him isn’t sure it’s her he hears at all, merely a wishful auditory hallucination experienced on the cusp of a dream.

“I love you.”

And, even if it’s not real, he thinks he hears himself utter back, “I love you too.”

~~~

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