#When will this purgatory called school end???

[itsemmiy]

GRGGRGRG FINALLY WEEKEND OMG I WAS THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO LOST MY MIND

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Tremulous.

adjective ‘shaking or quivering slightly’

in which, your a patient of doctor styles, and even though he’s supposed to be a professional, his attraction towards you blooms when he can’t seem to get you out of his head, but there’s a few problems that seem to be in his way.

word count - 2.6k

authors note- i know that this could have been longer considering the wait, but the other parts are going to be much better, contain more of a story, and definitely be longer, im sorry if this is not what you all expected <3

warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, hospitals, swearing, and a man named corey.

January 27th, 2024.

Once, you fervently clung to the notion of happily ever afters, your worldview painted with the romantic brushstrokes of fairy tales. However, that unwavering belief underwent a profound transformation. Life's intricate narrative unraveled before your eyes, revealing the nuanced shades of reality that escape the simplistic tales.

About a year ago, the realisation struck you like a revelation. The fairy-tale endings you once sought seemed elusive, replaced by the complex tapestry of life's unpredictable twists. You navigated through disappointments, heartaches, and the ever-shifting sands of relationships, learning that happiness wasn't a static destination but a dynamic journey.

When you met Corey, you beloved that just everything was going to be perfect, that you were going to get married, start a family and then finally would live a happily ever after.

But now, sitting in a hospital waiting room, a black eye and some bruised ribs, you soon realised that a happily ever after was not on your cards, and you didn’t think it ever would be.

Seated in the desolate hush of the hospital waiting room, Corey is by your side, his hand resting on your knee. However, the once-comforting touch has turned into an unintended source of discomfort. His nails, instead of offering solace, are slowly digging into your skin, creating a painful undertone beneath the already strained atmosphere.

The black eye you wear becomes a visible testament to the turbulent storm that has swept through your life, a storm now reflected in Corey's furrowed brow and tightening grip.

Each breath brings a searing pain to your ribs, a constant reminder of the physical toll exacted by whatever led you to this sterile purgatory. Corey's scowl intensifies, mirroring the tension in the room, as if the shared discomfort has found a physical expression.

The minutes drag on, marked by the rhythmic ticking of the waiting room clock, and you find yourself caught between the silent agony of your injuries and the unspoken worry etched on Corey's face.

You've always harbored a deep-seated desire to work in a hospital, a passion that initially fueled your excitement to embark on the journey of medical school. Back when you first met Corey, the prospect of donning a white coat and making a difference in people's lives seemed like a tangible dream. Fresh out of college, you were poised to step into the world of academia, eager to pursue your lifelong aspiration.

However, the trajectory of your dreams shifted when Corey entered the scene. In a whirlwind of emotions, he managed to sway your mind away from the academic pursuit you'd envisioned. With promises of missing you and a shared future that seemed brighter together, you decided to forego university and chose a different path.

Now, in the painful silence of the waiting room, regrets echo through your thoughts, as the realization settles that the sacrifice made for love might have cost you the chance to pursue your professional calling.

You can’t help but wish that you had gained enough courage back then to abandon him, because now…now your too scared to even breath around him, let alone run.

A nurse emerges from one of the doors, a clipboard in hand, and calls your name, "Y/N Y/L/N."

The mention of your name cuts through the sterile air, and both you and Corey rise from the uneasy embrace of the waiting room chairs. Your hands tremble as you follow the nurse, her brisk steps leading you into a room. The corridor seems to stretch indefinitely, anxiety intensifying with every step.

Once inside the room, the nurse gestures towards the bed,

"Please, have a seat." The paper on the bed crinkles beneath you as you comply, Corey standing nearby, his eyes mirroring the concern etched on your face.

As you settle onto the crisp hospital bed, the nurse efficiently checks your vitals, the rhythmic beep of the monitor punctuating the tension in the room. Her practised hands move with precision, measuring your pulse and blood pressure.

After the thorough examination, the nurse glances at the readings and nods.

"Your vitals seem stable," she states, her professional demeanor carrying a hint of compassion. "A doctor will be in to see you shortly. In the meantime, if you need anything or if the pain intensifies, don't hesitate to press the call button."

The weight of the impending doctor's visit hangs in the air, and you exchange a glance with Corey, your unspoken worries echoing in the silence of the room.

As the nurse departs, Corey's demeanor shifts abruptly. He harshly grabs your face, turning it towards him, his grip uncomfortably tight. His words cut through the air, "Remember what we said you'd tell them, right?"

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you nod in agreement, the tremor in your voice betraying the underlying fear.

Corey's gaze remains intense as he adds, "If you say the wrong thing, you will regret it."

The ominous warning lingers in the room, leaving you with a sense of dread.

Before you can respond, the curtain is abruptly pulled back, revealing a doctor with brown curly hair and piercing green eyes. Tattoos peeking out from the top of his scrubs and doctor coat hint at a more casual side.

His entrance interrupts the charged moment between you and Corey, injecting a fresh wave of tension into the air. The doctor offers a professional smile, though his gaze holds a discerning curiosity.

"Good afternoon. M’Dr. Styles," he introduces himself, glancing between you and Corey. "Let's talk about what brought you in today."

The weight of Corey's warning still echoes in your mind as you navigate the delicate balance between truth and the narrative you've been instructed to follow.

With a hesitant gulp, you summon the courage to speak.

"Uh, I had a bit of an accident," you begin, your voice quivering. "I... I fell down the stairs."

The admission hangs in the air, and you avoid Dr. Styles' eyes, your gaze fixed on the sterile surroundings.

Dr. Styles, his expression unreadable, continues to observe you closely.

"Fell down the stairs?" he repeats, a note of scepticism in his tone.

You nod, trying to appear convincing while the weight of fear presses down on you. The room feels stifling as you navigate the delicate dance of half-truths, your primary concern not to incur Corey's wrath.

"It was just a clumsy misstep," you add, your words laced with anxiety.

Dr. Styles, a man of clinical composure, glanced at Corey's bruised knuckles without a word, documenting the silent evidence on his clipboard.

He then turned his attention back to you, a hint of professional detachment in his green eyes.

"Well, let's get started. Where is the pain located?" Dr. Styles asked, his voice measured.

Your response quivered with nerves, "It's in…my ribs, doctor…Been hurting quite… a bit."

The doctor nodded, scribbling down your words. His gaze flickered over Corey's hands, perhaps noting the story they told without needing verbal confirmation. The air hung heavy with unspoken tension.

"Now, I need to check y’heart rate. S’that okay?" Dr. Styles inquired, his eyes fixing on yours.

A nod escaped your body.

Looking directly at you, Dr. Styles sought more than a nod. "I need verbal confirmation, not just gestures. Can y’confirm verbally that I can proceed?"

A tense smile played on your lips as you stammered, "Yes, go…go ahead."

There was no denying that Dr.Styles wasn’t a good looking man, his green eyes looked captivating, and for some reason, you felt safe in his presence.

The same couldn’t be said for Corey.

As the stethoscope pressed against your chest, a rush of anxiety surged through you. Your eyes met Corey's, silently expressing the fear of unravelling under the doctor's scrutiny.

Guided through deep breaths, your heart raced under Dr. Styles' scrutiny. The doctor noticed the anxiety etched on your face but remained professionally silent. His expertise unfolded like a story, revealing only what needed to be seen.

"Alright, here we go. Deep breath in, and out," Dr. Styles directed, his actions dictating the pace of this clandestine tale.

"Heart rate seems stable. Anything else you'd like to share about how this happened?" Dr. Styles inquired, maintaining an air of curiosity without prying too deeply.

You shook your head, your story consistent, "No, just a…clumsy fall down… the stairs."

"M’need to run a few more tests," he explained. "Would y’mind if your friend steps outside and waits in the waiting room? It won't take long."

Corey, however, reacted strongly to the suggestion. "What? No way! I'm staying right here. I'm her boyfriend, and I have every right to be in the room!"

Dr. Styles, calmly, responded, "I understand y’concern, but there are aspects of the examination that are private. S’common for patients to have some privacy during certain parts of the examination unless they suggest otherwise."

Corey, not willing to back down, kicked off, insulting Dr. Styles. "I'm not leaving. This is ridiculous. I have a right to be here."

Dr. Styles, unyielding, reiterated, "It's standard procedure f’certain parts of the examination to be conducted in private, unless the patient suggests otherwise."

You shared a hesitant look with Corey, feeling the tension escalate. Finally, with a deep breath, you mustered the courage to speak up, "Corey, maybe it's….better if you wait…outside for this part. It won't take long…and I'll be fine."

Corey's expression hardened, but he reluctantly left the room, shooting a final glare at Dr. Styles.

With Corey outside the room, Dr. Styles spoke gently, "I need t’examine your abdomen to check f’any signs of internal bleeding. For a thorough examination, I'll need you to remove your shirt."

You hesitated, anxiety clouding your eyes.

"I... I don't want to take my shirt off," you admitted, your voice trembling.

Dr. Styles, his tone reassuring, explained, "I understand, but it's crucial to assess any potential internal injuries. I'll do my best to make you as comfortable as possible, and we can proceed at your pace."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded hesitantly, beginning to remove your shirt, leaving you in just a sports bra. Dr. Styles' eyes widened as he saw the bruises that marred your torso, a silent testimony to the pain you had endured.

Concern etched on his face, Dr. Styles gently inquired, "Are you okay with me touching you for the examination?"

“Yes Doctor.” With a hesitant nod, you allowed him to proceed.

“Please,” he caught your gaze and tilted his head to the side. “Call me Harry.”

Dr. Styles' cool hands glided across your body as he carefully examined your abdomen. The room felt silent, the only sound being the measured breaths you took to steady yourself.

Dr. Styles, noticing your discomfort, apologized, "M’sorry if this causes any pain. Please let me know if anything feels too much."

As his hands explored, you flinched when he pressed too hard on a sensitive spot.

You winced.

Dr. Styles immediately pulled back, concern evident in his eyes. "M’sorry for any pain. We'll take it slow, and I'll be as gentle as possible."

You nodded, appreciating his care, and he continued the examination with increased caution. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, yet there was a sense of trust developing between you and Dr. Styles,

Before proceeding with the examination, Dr. Styles decided to ask a few questions. "Let's start with something basic. How old are you?"

You replied, "I'm 25."

Nodding, Dr. Styles moved on to the next question. "How often do you exercise?"

You thought for a moment before responding, "I walk to work every day, so I'd say I get some exercise regularly."

Dr. Styles continued his inquiries, "Are you currently taking any medication?"

"No, I'm not on any medication right now," you assured him.

The next question touched on a different aspect, "Are you pregnant or currently trying to conceive?"

With a quick response, you answered, "No, not pregnant and not trying."

Dr. Styles, satisfied with the information gathered, prepared to proceed with the examination. "Thank you for providing those details.

Dr. Styles, with a cautious tone, expressed, "I have one more question, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way.”

You look up at him through thick eye lashes.

“Does Corey abuse you?"

The question hung in the air, and you felt a shock ripple through you. Corey had made it abundantly clear that uttering a word about what you went through was strictly forbidden.

In that moment, you hesitated, your mind racing, but you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth.

With a heavy heart, you shook your head and replied, "No, Corey would never do anything like that."

Dr. Styles, perceptive to the delicate nature of the situation, continued with a compassionate demeanor, "I understand that this might be a sensitive topic. It's crucial for me to ask because your well-being is my priority. If, at any point, you feel the need to talk or share, my role is to support you."

Feeling the weight of the unspoken truth, you nodded, your eyes reflecting the internal struggle. Dr. Styles respected the boundaries, recognizing the complexity of the situation.

He added, "I want you to know that your safety and comfort are paramount. If you ever need assistance or someone to talk to, there are resources available, and my team is here to help. It's essential that you feel supported in your journey to recovery."

The conversation concluded with an understanding silence, leaving an open door for you to seek help when you were ready

Dr. Styles cleared his throat, breaking the lingering eye contact between the two of you. He stood up, a professional shift in his demeanor.

"M’going to get you scheduled for an x-ray based on the nature of your injuries," he explained, offering a reassuring smile.

As he left the room, you couldn't help but notice a soft smile on his face when he looked back at you. The curtain was pulled gently behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echoes of the examination.

A realization began to dawn on him – the inherent injustice of your circumstances and the courage you displayed in the face of adversity. Amidst these reflections, another thought surfaced: just how remarkably pretty you were.

As he considered the emotional and physical toll you endured, Dr. Styles found himself admiring not only your strength but also your undeniable beauty. The compassion he felt transcended the professional realm, stirring a personal acknowledgment of the unfairness life had dealt you.

In a quiet moment at the doctor's station, he couldn't help but entertain a fleeting fantasy – what if circumstances were different? Dr. Styles wondered, with a twinge of regret, how different things might be if you weren't with someone like Corey.

In his opinion, you were gorgeous.

Your eyes would forever be stuck in his mind, even if he was to never see you again, the way your hair framed your face, and your dimples appeared when you were talking to him.

If he was to ever see you again, he would get to know you more, and he couldn’t help but wonder what you would look like with your body not covered in bruises, and wondered what your body would look like bent over his—

‘Stop it, Harry.’

His inner conscience told himself, you were his patient, and he was your doctor.

He had to be professional.

The unspoken connection between you lingered in his mind, and he found himself contemplating a different narrative, one where he might have asked you out, free from the shadows that seemed to engulf your current relationship.

As you sat on the hospital bed and picked at your fingernails, trying to remove the dried blood from under neath, when the curtain getting pulled open made you stop your actions and for your breath to hitch on your throat.

Corey stormed back into the room, anger radiating from him like a palpable force, his eyes fixed on you with a cold, threatening glare. The tension in the room intensified as he made a menacing declaration,

"You're in for it when we get home."

Your heart sank at the ominous words, and fear flickered in your eyes as you braced for what awaited you.

Oh, how you wished you had told Dr. Styles the truth, but just like always, you were starting to regret it.

[vcill]

Heya 🫰🏻

Could I request something like "What the brothers would say to you to get you into the mood"?

I love your writing and am very curious about your ideas 👀

Thanks for requesting!

Lucifer:

He's the devil for a reason.

Would act the complete opposite then how he's usually does in bed.

If you have a praise kink, time to go crazy!!

Starts off innocent, probably asks you to sit on his lap and tell him about your day.

Will listen to every word, if you say you did well on test he'll tell you how proud he is to be able to be with someone so smart and pretty/handsome.

If it's the opposite, and you ended up failing, instead of one of his many lectures, he tells you it's okay and he'll give you extra help next time.

Slowly starts to rub your thigh or back as you continue giving you kisses here and there.

Hums in acknowledgment as you continue on about your day. Probably moves you from his desk towards his bed.

Lays you down on your stomach and will tells you it's a massage but the slick bastard won't say what kind.

You'll definitely find out once his cold his slip down in to your clothes and start toying with you .

Tells you to keep talking as he continues, if you asked what he's done the only response is: "Don't worry about it sweet thing, why don't you continue where you left off, hm?"

Next thing you know, he's pounding into you like there's no tomorrow while still making you tell him about your day, if you stop, he stops.

If you ended up not doing too well in the school day, its a slap on the ass for each thing that you told him.

Pretty much is just comforting then uses it against you.

This is pretty much one of the "softer" ways he gets you in the mood, even if you somehow don't catch on right away.

Mammon:

Once again, Mammon did something to get in trouble. If it wasn't with Lucifer, then probably the witches, or his brothers- maybe even Diavalo.

Regardless, this is probably the right time this week and it wasn't even Wednesday day.

Even Lucifer was shocked how much trouble the second one was being.

After another lecture, Mammon showed up to your room still in a pouty mood from earlier.

The least he wanted was another lecture, which is why before you could even start, he cut you off.

"How 'bout we make a deal, yeah?"

Now you know better then to make deals with him, considering all the other times he made one with that had you ended up being stuffed full and exhausted.

But if it could stop his behavior, then so be it.

For the next 7 days, he acted like an angel. Being nice to his brothers, paying off some debt. Even studying. (Everyone was shocked, even you)

But the real action was when he was with you.

"Ya like it when I'm a good boy, right?"

Acts so submissive and even asks and begs you to do things that he would never had done before.

"Promise I'll be good, I'll always be good for ya, I'm your little mambaby ain't I?"

If you're into it, he'll add a bit of mommy/daddy kink into the mix.

But of course with him m acting like this, how could you not want to treat him let me a good boy?

Always asks if you want him touch, lick , suck or bite a certain part of you, and when you say yes, you think you see Simeon in the purgatory hall.

Of course he totally wasn't trying to plan this. Totally.

Leviathan:

Roleplay all the way with this man.

I feel like this is the only time where he REALLY feels confident.

Starts off with something corny, probably from a video game like "The mighty prince Leviathan, has once again slain the dragon. Now to find the princess/princess!"

You'll be laying on his bed, striking a dramatic pose "Thank you thy knight! For saving me, you shall receive a special award."

"I am glad my great efforts receive such praise, I'll do my best to serve your highness"

Honestly you two being very silly and goofy but turned on nonetheless.

While giggling, he kissing your neck while le giving you a few special marks, calls them protection stamps. (IDK what to call them just something goofy 😭)

Puts you before him, will kiss every part of you and go down, while he does he describes every part of you in such great detail.

"Your majesty brings me such bliss."

"Will the knight let me sit on my throne?''

"You own everything in this kingdom my prince/princess, take what's yours."

The confidence surge in him would be so hot, he's making sure you are definitely treated as a royal should be. Maybe even more then Barbatos treats Diavolo.

Other roleplays could as be a masquerade ball where you two fuck as strangers but turns out you know each other all along.

Forbidden lovers, needing to stay quiet to not get caught.

Or as if you were trapped in a video game, and new to fuck to get out. (This one might actually happen knowing him).

He's a silly stinky otaku but we love him 💕

Satan:

A little similar to Levi.

Maybe after reading a spicy/romance book he gets into the mood.

Starts off quoting after certain books he's read to see if you remember.

When you repeat the other half correctly, he gets so turned on for some reason. If you don't remember he still will but not in the same way. (Sadistic and Satan both start with a S for a reason.)

Depending on if you answer, he'll continue on, the part he's reciting most likely from a smut.

"They lay there, with not a care in the world, unknowing of what the creature lurking might do."

Even if you are getting fucked mercilessly, you still have lines to say!!

"They moaned the creature fucking Them better then any human could."

(Spoiler alert: They love the monster 🤭)

If not roleplay, he'll have your read the book instead, making sure to exactly get to the spicy part.

While you read it aloud, he starts touching you. Slowly rubbing up and down your area, may even go down on you while you read it.

Better yet does the same thing you describe in the book. If the creature is throat fucking the MC, get prepared.

Every single position you also find yourself in, some of these you never knew even existed, but can't help but to moan like a fucking animal.

If the book had pictures, you would match it completely once you were done reading.

He'll continue reading until he gets to another smutty part, in which it's your turn to read.

And mostly likey get your brains fucked out. 👌🏾

Asmodeus:

Ooo boy

When is he not trying to turn you on?

Asmo has a very very high sex drive, which is obvious with how many past partners he's had.

Cause of this, y'all are pretty much fucking 24/7.

Isn't afraid to hide when he wants you, you could be sitting at the dinner table and he'll make direct eye contact while licking a spoon a little to lewdly.

Moans a little too hard when eating a dish and saying it's good. Leans over over gives you a bite too, making sure it gets on your cheek for him to lick away.

If you decide to tease him back, his horniness go up 100x.

After dinner pretend not to remember what happened at the dinner table and go to his room as normal only to get pinned to the wall in a second.

"Mc, I'm so hungry, maybe even hungrier then beel"

Go ahead and let him get that desert, extra cream too please!

Switches and you'll be sucking him off messily. drool and slobber everywhere and loud sucking noise filling the room.

"Mc, your so nasty I love it."

Cums on your face, with some getting on his torso, will look at you with the most innocent eyes and ask you to clean him up.

Whines so much whenever you ride him, gripping onto your hips hard, begging for you to go faster.

He'll sound like he just came out of a hentai, saying things that surprisingly, you only got to hear.

But never ever neglect him for too long, as bold as he is, he'll get even bolder.

In a meeting with Diavolo instead of being with him? Don't worry, he'll tell a good excuse on why you should be with him instead. Maybe even invites the demon prince.

(100% think he talks dirty to you in other languages, whatever language it is, is your choice!)

Beezlebub:

Innocent baby that doesn't realize he's a complete beast in bed. (He does a lil)

Food play doesn't always have to come in here, a lot of times it's whenever you guys are alone together.

Can be very blunt. Just makes eye contact with you and asks "Can I fuck you?"

Or if he wants to be more romantic, he'll get on his knees and rest on your thighs, purring against them. Leaves a few hickies too.

Sucks you off/eats you out always talking about how good you feel.

Now this is where food play can come in. Maybe gets some honey, chocolate syrup, icing. (Icing works best for clean-up imo.)

Licks and slurps it off so messily, moans in delight when he taste your cum in the mix.

"m'still hungry mc, spread it a little more, please?''

Pulls your legs as far as they can to keep licking down there, his tongue can also get longer as he please, so definitely hits all those spots.

When he puts his dick into you, it's a messy make out session. Left over syrup falling from both of your lips, drool dripping down your chins, beel has never felt so full before.

"Mc, you got something on your chest, don't worry, I'll get it for you."

He gets it all right, maybe even does a little bit of a deep clean too.

Tbh, all he needs to do is look at you with those pleading, seemingly innocent eyes and you'll be gone in seconds.

Belphegor:

Since he sleeps a lot, his sex drive won't be high but that doesn't mean he ain't needy.

Ironically, when you're the one sleeping, he's horny.

Can do dream manipulation imo. goes into whatever dream you're having and changes it up a bit to have him in there.

It's a weird one, you're back in the human world in your room about to take a nap, until Belphie comes from under it and grab onto your legs.

"You're not tired yet, are you?"

"It's not fair if you're sleeping and not me, help fall asleep too?"

Slowly you start to wake up as Belphie moves inside of you. Moaning into your ear. You're gonna help him, right?

While he thrusts, you mumble sleepy the words "I'll help you" over and over.

When you cum, he complains," it's not fair that I didn't get to cum yet, so why should you sleep?"

Overstimulates you like crazy, when you start to get a little loud he ask how is he supposed to fall asleep with all the noise.

If you're too quiet, he says he can't call asleep without a little noise in the room.

"m'getting tired, you go on top so I can rest."

Will sit back and seemingly fall asleep while you do the work bouncing up and down.

If you try to stop thinking he's sleep, he thrusts up telling you he isn't done yet and to continue.

"Belphie, I'm tried, can we please continue later?"

"We have school in the morning, mc. I can't go to school without sleep, can I?"

Younger sibling brattiness sure is kicking in right now.

"If you don't want to help anymore, I'll just get beel to help you."

Last time that happened, you couldn't even go to RAD in the morning, to tired and numb to walk.

So go ahead and help little Belphie sleep, okay? It's better when you both fall asleep anyway.

[silverschaos]

bite my tongue / tate langdon.

Pairing: Tate Langdon x Reader Description: You turn into a flirt and Tate apparently has an issue with that. Warnings: mentions of murder (more specifically tate wanting to murder someone 💀), mentions of death. Word Count: 1290 A/N: listen ive never wrote tate before and i wasn't gonna but im in my ahs rewatch era and... this happened. i also ramble a lot. sry. apparently i need a backstory for everything and dont know how to end things 😩

The thing was you'd been stuck in this house for years. Years upon years and you were starting to get bored. So bored that you'd decided to seek out some 'fun' as you called it. Did that fun consist of trying to find someone in the house that you could spend some time with? It sure did but what else was there to do? You couldn't leave, you couldn't go out and live the normal life that'd you'd planned before you'd met your untimely demise so the house and its inhabitants were all you had to occupy your time with. It wasn't like you were seeking to sleep with anyone. Just a little flirt here and there but it was enough to make your best friend - Tate Langdon - furious.

This wasn't you. You didn't do things like this. That was why Tate liked you. You were everything he wasn't. You were good, you were kind, you liked to see the best in people. As long as he'd known you, he'd never seen you this way.

Tate was at his wits end when he saw you flirting with his mom's old boyfriend. What was his name again? Travis. That was it. Tate had never been a fan. Not that he cared who his mother dated. He didn't in the slightest but he cared about who you were messing around with. It seemed like you'd taken a shine to Travis. The mere thought of that stirred up the rage swirling within him. Was there a way to kill someone that was already dead?

"Why do you care who she spends her time with anyway?" Hayden asked him one day when he stood watching you laughing at something Travis said.

"Because she's my best friend."

"Best friend? Okay, sure."

Tate rounded on Hayden, an accusatory brow raised. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Hayden laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

Weeks passed and it was getting harder and harder for Tate to not say anything. It was driving him crazy. Well crazier than he already was. His jaw clenched as he watched you flirty place your hand on Travis' chest. That rage flared within him again -- imagining a thousand different ways he'd kill Travis if he was actually still alive.

Meanwhile, you were oblivious to Tate's inner turmoil. Travis was fun, he made you laugh and maybe, besides Tate, he was the only decent looking one in the house. Minus Ben but he was about thirty years older than you and the thought alone made you want to barf. That was a no-go. And, Tate, well, he was your best friend. He had been before you died and he was still now when you were both stuck in this purgatory hell of a house. Maybe once or twice you'd thought about what it'd be like to kiss him but that was it. Definitely not daily. Definitely not something you'd had dreams about. Nope.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Tate watching you talk to Travis. He leaned against the doorframe of the spare bedroom adorned in one of his infamous striped sweaters, his hair a mess of blonde curls. The look on his face was anything but friendly, though. It was a look you'd recognise anywhere. A look that would make a lot of people quiver in their boots but not you.

Tate had been your first friend in high school when you'd first started there. Technically, he didn't really have a say in it. For some reason the school had thought it was a good idea for him to be the one to show you around thinking it would be nice for him to talk to other students since he was often a recluse. At first, he didn't utter a word to you as he walked you around the school then he started opening up a little bit more. Soon, you found yourself seeking out his company, spending time together outside of school. He confided his secrets in you and vice versa. So, when you had the accident on his front lawn and he found you, that had been the start of his spiral. Losing his best friend like that - along with everything else he'd gone through - had been the tip of the iceberg.

He had his demons, you had yours but still even now he was the one person you knew would always be by your side. He was a terrible person - there was no doubt about that but there was also a side to him that only you knew and that was the side you hopelessly clung onto. It was why you'd defend him whenever anyone in the house started to say anything against him. The rational side of you knew they had every right to call him the names they did but your heart wouldn't have it.

Another glance in Tate's direction and you saw that he'd disappeared. Saying your goodbye to Travis, you headed out into the hallway. "Tate?"

It took a millimetre of a second before he came out of the next room, arms folded over his chest looking at you. "What?"

"Okay, wow, did someone piss in your cereal?"

"Ha ha, hilarious," he rolled his eyes at you.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Your eyes narrowed, folding your own arms across your chest.

Flabbergasted, Tate shook his head in disbelief that you were even asking such a question. "I can't keep biting my tongue anymore. I have to say something."

"About?"

"You! And how you're acting! Seriously, do you think I haven't noticed you throwing yourself over Travis especially? Are you just trying to make me mad? This isn't you! You don't do this. You're... you're the good one. You're the one that makes good decisions." Tate ran a hand over his face, his eyes almost pleading as he looked at you.

"Why is it any of your business who I flirt with anyway? Maybe this is me now. Maybe being stuck in this place for the rest of eternity changed me. Maybe I'm just like everyone else here." You shot back at him. Hopefully the faux confidence in your voice threw him off the fact that your dead heart was beating hard against your chest.

"Because I love you! I love you and you don't even look at me!"

That threw you off centre. Literally. You almost fell backwards, having to place a hand on the wall beside you to right yourself. All the air was knocked out of you. Surely he hadn't really just said that.

"I know you better than anyone here," Tate continued, taking a step forward. A cautious one. "You're not like anyone here. You never will be. I won't let you be. You are the only thing I care about in this forsaken place and I won't let this house ruin you like it did me. So, stop. Please, stop. I can't stand by and watch you throw yourself at everyone else when I've been right here the whole time."

Tears brimmed in your eyes when you noticed his eyes were watering, too. Tate had always been a sensitive boy. Constance always said it and you always witnessed it first hand. Seeing him cry always broke you. Taking a step forward, you place a hand gently on his cheek, wiping his eyes with the pad of your thumb.

"Okay," you said, softly. "I'll stop. For you. I'm sorry. I-I didn't know."

"S'fine."

"No, it's not. And, for the record, I think I love you, too."

And, there it was, that infamous Tate Langdon smile that you would never, ever tire of seeing. Eternity wouldn't be so bad if you saw that everyday.

[agirlandherquill]

oc interview tag

thanks @willtheweaver for the tag!

this one looks like fun!

i'll be using Edeva from Ruin's Reprisal for this one,

Were you named after anyone? - "Well, my middle name comes from a distant relative - Maenaire, I think there was a legend written about her once, I never had the chance to find out her story but my mother clearly saw some similarities between us."

When was the last time you cried? - "Ah, that. Do tears of anger count? I cried enough while I was screaming at Fenley for being a mangisen - that's a pig, in my native language. I think he got the message, tears or not."

Do you have any kids? - "No. I never considered children, and I don't think motherhood is a suitable role for an Exilza. I would never subject a child to this life, but if that ever changes... I don't know, maybe I would, if I found someone - someone that was right."

Do you use sarcasm a lot? - "More often with Fenley than not, I don't know why he just- Brings something out in me."

What is the first thing you notice about people? - "...In the old days, I would have said their faces. Faces can change, they can hide things, but I always looked at the eyes - These days, I notice whether someone is armed. I know more dangerous people than not at present and... It can never hurt to be safe."

What is your eye colour? - "Blue. Though Fenley would have many other things to say - He pays far more attention than I."

Scary movies or happy endings? - "I need no tales to know fear, and though I have yet to know one, I'd prefer a happy ending."

Any special talents? - "I can silence the most fearsome man the country has ever known with a single word, does that count? Oh, and please don't tell Fenley."

Where were you born? - "Vitaire Manor, right here in Aliria."

Do you have any pets? - "I was too preoccupied with the goings on of Court to take responsibility for anything other than myself, sadly. And in the wilderness now, I would wish that upon no animal."

What sort of sports do you play? - "Something of a verbal sparring match with Fenley, though sometimes, rare times - things almost turn violent. He never lets me harm him or myself in the process, which is nice. And despite what he says - I do win our arguments."

How tall are you? - "As much as I would love to call myself average, Fenley's laughter can be heard from here - I know, I know, I'm not as tall as I think I am."

What was your favourite subject in school? - "I seldom had proper lessons, aside from personal tutors but... I learned to dance, with Arden. That was one of the lessons I enjoyed the most."

What is your dream job? - "I've never had a job. I've always had an expectation - my engagement to Arden decided most of my life, until our wedding day - Well, I won't say being engaged to a Prince is simple, but it was certainly easier than being an Exilza."

now for the tags! i just updated my tag list so here goes! no pressure of course, looking forward to getting to know some other people's characters! - also open tag!

~ ~ ~ tags ~ ~ ~

@the-ellia-west @tildeathiwillwrite @drchenquill @365runesofthesystem @coffin-hopping

@godsmostfuckedupgoblin @a-mimsy-borogove @frostedlemonwriter @i-do-anything-but-write @r-u-living

@thatuselesshuman @lead-to-code @sunflowerrosy @theaistired @phoenixradiant

@autism-purgatory @corinneglass @tiredpapergirl @patheticexcuseforawriter @missmisanthrope

@your-writing-motivation @littlestchildofthemoon @morganxduinn @thebrownleathernotebook @rmhashauthor

@lamuradex @fantasy-things-and-such @glasshouses-and-stones @hattonthehatman @humbly-a-doppelganger

@hopecreatesstuff @ramwritblr @s-pendragon7 @thelastneuron @heartreactor

@ihauntmyhouse @shiningstars-world @scaewolf @mehxis @just-emis-blog

@joeys-piano @ramitola @thestoryteller8 @yrndrgn @riveriafalll

@lawrencespen1777 @theverumproject @zackprincebooks @ansanity2 @justjariel

@orion-lacroix @jupiter---daydreams @vinniehorrible @stars-forever @thewritingautisticat

@whatwewrotepodcast @anaisbebe @appleandsnow @urnumber1star @chaotictravelerrants

@andagii-projects @dragmewithyoutonirvana @a-bi-cat-with-books @fearofahumanplanet @just-a-domesticated-cryptid

[professional-demon-master]

Cutting you off pt. 4

Satan

Light angts/comfort. Good ending! Gender neutral MC.

* Satan was an explosive person, most of the time he tried, really hard, to control himself in front of you. At least that’s what you wanted you believe.

* But when he has bad days… you knew it was better to leave him alone

* Today you hadn’t seen him at all though, so when you encountered him in the HoL library you really didn’t notice the way his hands were clenched in the book, or how his lips were pressed together Ina stressful way.

“Satan! I missed you today! Where were you? It was weird being in hexes without you!” You plopped in a seat in front of him. Satan looked up, still frowning but trying to look more relaxed for you. “Just busy, lots of homework”. “Yeah, tell me about it”, you got up to get a book, one you’ve been reading for a couple of days know, thanks to Satan’s own recommendation. Satan returned to his book, trying to concentrate in it to reduce his wrath.

“What’s your book about?” You took your prior sit, Satan exhaled. Breathe.

“Just a mystery novel.” “Sweet” “Mhm”

“Oh! Did you knew that…” “STOP!” You looked at Satan with a puzzled expression, not even able to verbally respond. “You come, waltzing in, like you own the place and won’t leave me alone, you just won’t shut up!” Satan stoop up Ron his place, book long forgotten. “Ugh, you’re just so clingy sometimes. You’re irritating! You make it so hard to stay in control!” He stopped talking when he looked at you and your big eyes looked back at him with a hurtful expression. He wanted to apologize, he really did, but he was still too angry to act completely coherent. ���Mc…” you got up, trying to look as collected as possible, and got out of the library, closing the door behind you. “Fuck…”

That same day, at your usual bedtime, Satan appeared in your room. Apologies and explanations escaped his mouth as soon as you opened the door, and they went on until you stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and taking it back almost immediately .

“You hurt me Satan. And I know you try really hard to stop yourself when you’re like that but it isn’t the first nor it will be the last time that you call me annoying and clingy for existing on the same room as you. I’m sorry but no, I don’t want your apologies. They’re empty for me”

* After that incident, and his failed attempts to get you to talk to him again, Satan kept on trying to find ways to make you forgive him.

* He cooked your favorite human realm food the day he had dinner duty . They rarely did it since some of the ingredients were fairly expensive and difficult to find in devildom, but still, there it was in front of you, spaghetti carbonara, presented like it was from an expensive restaurant. You felt your stomach growl, but after taking just two little tastes you gave offered it to Beel, who accepted it without hesitating. You could feel Satan’s gaze fixated on you during the whole exchange of words with Beel, but still, he remained silent.

* Next day, you noticed hot coco in your place during breakfast, your favorite drink. You knew this had to be Satans doing so the drink stayed there, untouched.

* You even spent the weekend at purgatory hall. The brothers weren’t excited about the news, but you felt a slumber party was the perfect excuse to avoid being in the same house as Satan for at least a couple days.

* On Monday morning you met with the brothers at RAD to exchange hellos and a couple hugs that lasted a little bit too long. They acted like the first time you came back after a week at the human realm.

* Since Mondays you walked home from school with Satan, you decided to pass the time until Beel finished fangol practice so you could walk with him.

* With limited possibilities, you ended up in the library trying to do a little bit of homework to avoid letting your mind wonder into analyzing your gutted feelings and how much you missed Satan this past days.

* The library appeared to be alone, so you took this as your lucky day to be able to spend time alone without the brothers having to take care of you.

* You were too concentrated picking a book to feel the eyes that were following your every move. It wasn’t until you felt a breath in your neck and an arm appeared at the side of your head that you turned around quickly.

“Oh… uhm, hi” you said nervously while trying to move from their imprisonment.

The demon kept his eyes on you, a smirk appearing in his face as he saw you trying, and failing, to escape.

“It’s so weird finding you here. Alone” he smelled your hair. “Without the avatars around you”. You felt your breath getting caught in your throat as you saw him getting closer. “I-I will summon them” cursing yourself for stuttering, you raised your hand to try and position it in one -any- of your pacts, but he grabbed it before you could even register it. You frowned, getting almost as mad as you were scared, you tried to take your hand back. “Let me go!” “You’re feisty, aren’t you?” He got as close as he could, bumping your nose with his, you could notice his fangs showing every time he spoke. “That’s okay, I like that, makes it more entertaining.”

You were trying to look for a way out as his tongue licked your cheek. You closed your eyes in disgust. What should you do? Hit him with a book? Step on him?

Suddenly the icky feeling in your cheek stopped and it was replaced by just a crashing noise and a growl, you were pushed in the sudden movement and feel to your knees. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You recognized Satan’s voice automatically. He threw a bookcase at the lesser demon. You could see his shoulders go up and down with every breath, filled with wrath; after a couple of seconds where the other demon just stayed on the floor complaining, Satan turned to look at you.

You didn’t knew if it was because you were on your knees, if it was his stoic demon form or the aura of wrath surrounding him, but you could sense the power he emanated with his mere presence. His hand in front of yours took you out of your trance; you took his hand and as soon as you were on your feet he pulled you close. His hand cleaned the side of your face the other demon had licked prior to Satan’s appearance, he turned his head to look at the other demon, you could see the fire in his eyes, burning to take out his anger in the other demon.

“No! Leave it!” Satan turned to look at you again, a bit taken aback “please, I just want to go home. He’s not worth it, and I’m okay now” You pleaded, hands grabbing his clothes in little fists in an attempt to keep him close to you. After a while he exhaled, “it’s okay, kitten. We’ll go home.” He caressed your cheek. He took your hand, before he started walking he looked back, anger invading his factions again, “you’re so lucky she’s here to stop me from destroying you, but I’ll find you again, piece of shit.”

* You arrived the house of lamentation, and ever since you stepped foot in the house, Satan stood by your side, comforting you, prior fight long forgiven, but still in the air, making you feel like there was something pending between you two.

“Satan?”

“Mhm?” He answered without interrupting his lecture, his other hand still caressing you, playing with your hair in a relaxing way.

“I’m sorry for holding a grudge to you even after you apologized, it was dumb of me”

The blond man closed the book at fully looked at you now, “what are you talking about? Don’t apologize. You were completely right.”

“But, you saved me today, and I just…”

“Still, I was an asshole to you the other day, you had every right to be mad at me.”

You smiled, rearranging your position in his chest to keep on talking. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be there to save you”.

[apples-and-heartbreak]

I feel like when I’m reading or watching something, for me to like a hero, they have to

1) have ambition about anything

2) not be annoying

3) not excuse their shitty behaviour with their shitty childhood

4) not be so self-righteous they don’t see their own flaws

For these reasons I hate with a burning passion Jace Herondale, Clary Fairchild, Eli Ever, Tiberius “Cal” Calore VIII, Dean Winchester, and Legend/Dante Santos

Jace is constantly doing something shitty in every book and people don’t care and they just put up with it for some reason. In CoG he belittles Clary because he wants to push her away but keeps coming back to her. He also keeps coming onto Clary when he thought she was his sister and said that cursed sentence in CoG that I need to bleach from my brain. I know if he said that shit to me I would’ve punched him in his stupid face cuz who does he think he is? He mocks the werewolves after they lost a child in their pack, he’s just awful to Alec at times, he doesn’t seem to understand there are consequences to his actions and just does shit because he wants to. He had the emotional maturity of a dried up pinecone.

Clary also does so much shit and people don’t call her out because she’s the protagonist and she just lets Jace do whatever to her because he’s hot. Girl please get a grip. She slut shames Izzy because apparently women aren’t allowed to have a sex life or wear revealing clothing 😒 girl you kissed someone you thought was YOUR BROTHER!! She dated Simon to get over Jace and then kissed Jace in the Seelie Court, and repeatedly thought about Jace in a romantic sense WHILE she thought they were SIBLINGS! I can’t.

Eli is so self-righteous, annoying and hypocritical. He uses God and religion as an excuse to kill innocent people which is just disgusting. Like I get that he thinks being an EO changed a person because Victor became different but he is an EO himself and he just takes it on himself to murder innocent people for simply existing.

Cal has no desire to do anything, at least up to the beginning of King’s Cage he doesn’t (where I currently am). He knows how poorly the Reds are being treated and he doesn’t want to change anything because (and I’m paraphrasing) there would be outrage among the Silvers and a war would break out. Bitch you are already at war! He’s the reason why so many innocent young Reds have lost their lives fighting in a war they have no say in. He sees the Scarlet Guard killing Silvers and he doesn’t try to stop them. He sulks and whines but doesn’t take any real action, which he could if he actually wanted to. He stalks around the camp like Mare’s dog and thinks he’s better than everyone.

Dean Winchester is an abusive asshole. He locked Sam in the cellar when he was addicted to demon blood when he knew the withdrawal could kill him. He shit on Sam for being manipulated. He’s made horrible perverted jokes about women, might I remind y’all of the high school episode (he was at least 26 at the time). He guilted Sam for leaving him in Hell and Purgatory when he did THE EXACT SAME THING when Same went to the cage. He threatened Kaia, a teenager at gun point for his own selfish purposes. He abused Jack til the very end, yelling that he wasn’t family when Jack had sacrificed his soul and life for the Winchesters, and made Jack hate himself for being born. He was shitty to Cas in so many seasons and didn’t care that Cas just went through seeing his son die and wasn’t able to save him. He violated Sam’s body by tricking him into letting Gadreel in which led to the death of Kevin and had the audacity to think he was wronged.

Dante is shit. Julian, his brother, lived with him for centuries, followed him wherever he went and loved him unconditionally. All Julian asked was for Dante to love him back, which he never did. When Julian finally found someone who loved him, Dante made fun of him. And then in the next book he gives up his immortality for Tella, a girl he has known for literal months at most. He didn’t love his brother, who has been with him since the beginning, enough to give up his immortality but he loved this random girl he has known for a couple months at most to give it all up?? Tella should’ve left him in the dust just like she did Jacks and went off on adventures by herself and met someone that wasn’t a twat.

[louellaby]

FORGET-ME-NOT

REPLACED!MC AU

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

W A R N I N G

May contain bad grammar, limited vocabulary, and OOC characters. Please mind that English is not my first language, and it takes a lot of courage for me to post due to my anxiety and paranoia.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

taglist: @books-and-catears @owl778 @yourlocalgrass

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER I | CHAPTER II | CHAPTER III | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER IV | CHAPTER V | LOUE'S LETTER | CHAPTER VI | CHAPTER VII | CHAPTER VIII | CHAPTER IX | CHAPTER X | LOUE'S LETTER | EPILOGUE

C H A P T E R V

「 Smile and Ignore 」

"MC! Hey, MC! Are you listening to me?!"

You snapped out of your thoughts at the loud snap of the voice next to you. You turned your head to find Soley looking angry for a moment until you blinked your eyes and her face softened. Maybe you were just imagining that angry expression?

"H-Hey, Soley," you greeted her with an apologetic smile and tilted your head in wonder, "I'm sorry, I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there, wasn't I? Can I help you with anything?" You asked, wanting— hoping for a chance to hang out with her again. Just as you've missed the brothers, you've missed her as well. But you found out luck wasn't on your side the moment she opened her mouth and stated her reason for finding you.

"No, I was just looking for Solomon since he was in the same period as you, but I only found you here. Alone. For some reason."

You looked around and noticed that the classroom was indeed empty of students. It was only the two of you in there. You shook your head and laughed sheepishly as you started to pack your things up with a slight more hurry.

"Solomon was indeed in class with me earlier, but it seems that he already left. Something urgent must have come up since... well, he usually waits for me."

Soley narrowed her eyes and sighed quietly, but enough for you to hear. She crossed her arms and turned around to face the doorway.

"Are you really that important to everyone?"

"Huh? Did you say something?"

"What? No, I didn't. Well, I'll be going to find Solomon then. See you at home."

Before you could respond, she was already out of your sight. Looking at the clock, you saw that it was already twenty minutes after class ended. You must've been zoning out pretty deeply that you didn't hear the school bell ring, and apparently, your D.D.D. as well, which had a missed call from Solomon.

After packing up every single one of your things, you took your phone and pressed on Solomon's profile. You called him back, but your call was denied before you could even hear it ring for the first time. Instead, you received a message from the sorcerer himself.

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

S O L O M O N

Hey, MC.

I can't answer the phone right now, but you can teleport to me if you want to.

Y O U

Sure, but why can't you answer?

Did something happen?

S O L O M O N

You can say that...

It's not dangerous or anything, though. Otherwise, I wouldn't let you come to me, but it's just mildly annoying.

I'll explain later when you get here.

Just teleport directly into my room.

Not in front of Purgatory Hall, not in front of my door. Just directly in my room.

Y O U

Got it...

I'll be right there.

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You did as you were told, teleporting into Solomon's room. There, you found him at his desk, books on the table in front of him, an exasperated expression on his face, and a series of loud knocking on his bedroom door. The moment he saw you, he smiled and immediately placed his point finger on his lips. Be quiet.

You turned your attention to the door where the knocking didn't stop. Then you heard Simeon's and Luke's voices coming from the hall. They sounded tired from talking and convincing the knocker to stop.

"Soley, I don't think Solomon's home right now," you heard Simeon say. "Maybe you can come back later? I'll send you a message when he's back."

"No, I'm sure he's home." Soley insisted, not moving away from the door and continued pounding on it, calling Solomon's name after every set of knocks. "Solomon, come out of there! I need to speak with you!"

"... How are you so sure he's in there?" Luke wondered. He then flinched when Soley laid her eyes on him.

"I asked around, and people said that he went home. The neighbours also said that he entered the house not too long ago."

"Uhm... okay..? But he might not be in his room."

"Nonsense, Luke. I already tried opening his door when I got here, but it's locked."

"Yes, well, Solomon sometimes locks his door whenever he needs to keep people away from his experiments, so it's not at all weird." Simeon continued to argue. Luke held his hand for support, slightly trembling under Soley's gaze.

"Y-Yeah, and maybe he teleported away somewhere. I heard him mention in class earlier about taking MC out for the day."

"Well, MC was all alone in the classroom before I left RAD. Solomon wasn't anywhere near, and MC said that they don't know where he is."

You turned to the man at his desk who was painfully trying to keep a smile on his face. You quietly made your way towards him, making sure your footsteps were as silent as that of a mouse's, and offered your hand, which he took and pressed against his cheek. He still kept quiet as he closed his eyes and held your hand close. Then, you knew what he meant by annoying. Soley had no intention of leaving, even when Simeon and Luke kept telling her that the sorcerer might not be home. You didn't think she would be like this. Especially not in front of the angels.

"Is there something in particular which you need from Solomon?" Another voice interrupted the girl. You heard another set of footsteps slowly growing closer and closer, along with a slightly familiar voice.

"It's none of your business, now is it, Cassiel? I have private matters to discuss with him. He's the only one who can help me."

"Well, I apologise, Lady Soley, but Solomon left a few moments before you arrived," Cassiel informed her, which momentarily stopped her knocking. After a bit more convincing, and a message from Lucifer telling her to come home, Soley finally decided to admit defeat and leave.

"Fine, I'll be retreating to the House of Lamentation. But send me a message the second Solomon gets back home. Got it? The second."

Without waiting for a reply, the girl stomped her way out of Purgatory Hall and back into the streets of the Devildom. Cassiel told the other two angels that he'll be heading out to buy groceries and make sure Soley gets home safely.

Once it was all clear, another set of knocks were laid on Solomon's door. This time, it was Simeon's.

"She's gone now, Solomon."

"W-Wait, Solomon's really in there?!" It was to be expected that Luke didn't know anything about the matter. The sorcerer laughed, a hint of relief in his voice, before he let go of your hand and walked towards the door to open it.

"Thanks for your help, Simeon," he sighed in relief and placed a hand on Luke's head, "You too, Luke."

Luke's face flushed, not because of the head pat he was getting but because he was embarrassed of not knowing he was home and lying to Soley like that. He turned to Simeon with a red face, fists clenched. "S-Simeon! How could you lie like that?! So naturally, too! Did Cassiel lie, too?! Angels aren't supposed to do that!"

"I know, Luke, but Solomon asked us to help him out, and we did. Isn't it also our job to help those in need?"

"I.. I guess.... Yeah!" Luke smiled brightly before turning back to meet the sorcerer's gaze. "But Solomon, what about your outing with MC? Did they have other plans?"

The human grinned at him before he turned his head to look at you, his gaze ushering you forward, and out of your hiding place, you went. The two angels were surprised, but you could tell they were delighted to see you again after a while. For the last few months, you did try your best to reconnect with the brothers, so you were slowly drifting away from the three of them.

"MC!" Luke exclaimed, immediately rushing forward and wrapping his arms around you. He unconsciously nuzzled his cheek against you, which he didn't notice himself. "I didn't know you were coming today!"

Hugging him back in response, you giggled and shook your head. "I didn't know I was coming here either. I'm sorry for the intrusion."

Simeon chuckled and shook his head in disagreement. "You're always welcome here, MC. We're happy to have you no matter the occasion."

"Thanks, Simeon! I'm really happy to be here with you all... and I'm really happy to know that... that you're happy to be with me..." With every word, your head drooped down as the smile on your face slowly faded along. The three exchanged worried glances; the two older men knew what was going on while the little one looked slightly confused, but he knew enough to know that you needed a break.

With that, Luke suggested you stay over with them at Purgatory Hall, where they promised to make sure to put a smile back on your lovely face. You were grateful but also worried how the brothers would react. But should you really worry?

You gave them time and time went on, making everything worse for you. They decided they didn't need you anymore and stopped hanging out with you altogether. Whenever you tried to reach out, all you ever heard from them were excuses. They didn't run out of them. Maybe it was time for you to leave? And I don't mean leave just the House of Lamentation.

Leave the Devildom.

"MC, there you are. I've been looking all over for you."

The moment you stepped into the house, Lucifer came to greet you. It wasn't like he was actually waiting for you to get home. He was just passing by the entrance hall when you arrived. "Where have you been? Soley said she didn't find you anywhere at RAD after classes. You were supposed to walk her home today, weren't you?"

Soley didn't find you anywhere after classes? But she just—

Ah, so that's what it was.

Soley lied about not seeing you. But why?

And Lucifer.

He wasn't worried about you at all. He was worried about Soley walking home by herself. It made sense since she was just a normal human without pacts with any demon, but he could have still worried about you a little bit, right?

... Right?

You wanted to explain everything to him. How Soley lied, and you were together before she stomped off. But was it really worth it? Would he even listen and believe a word you're saying?

You wanted to believe he would. You wanted to believe that the Lucifer you knew would never doubt your words. But arguing with him now when he's in a bad mood wouldn't do you any good. So you just left it at that.

You apologised to the eldest while hanging your head low. You felt like all you ever did since Soley arrived was apologise for every single thing you did, even when you did absolutely nothing wrong. But why did it feel like that? Why did it feel like you were the one in the wrong all this time?

Lucifer sighed and crossed his arms. You knew that sigh. He was disappointed. You dared not meet his gaze and just kept staring at the floor, waiting for him to finish his business with you.

"Make sure you're prepared for the ball tomorrow evening. I want everything to go without problems."

"... yes, I understand."

"Good. Now go back to—"

"Wait, Lucifer, I have a favour." You managed to get enough courage to look him straight in the eye. For a moment, he looked surprised.

"What is it?"

"I... C-Can I stay over at Purgatory Hall tonight?"

"MC—"

"Please, Lucifer..! Just this once...?"

You held your breath, staring back the flooring, occasionally taking glances for a reaction. With every ticking silence, the atmosphere grew heavier. It was almost hard to breathe. Until you heard another sigh come from him.

"Fine. I'll bring you—"

"Thank you, Lucifer! I'll pack up my things and head out as soon as I can!"

You cut him off, not giving him the chance to change his mind as you dashed up the stairs and back to your room. You also didn't want to hear anything more from him. You took your outfit for the ball out of the box where you carefully hid it in case something went wrong. This outfit was something much different and more beautiful than what Asmodeus and Soley gave you. And this was much more special since it was Barbatos himself who made it especially for you.

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

To my dearest, MC,

May this give you the best memories and the warmest of smiles. I look forward to seeing you at the end of everything, once again outshining the brightest star in existence.

Yours truly,

Barbatos

✄ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You held the handwritten card to your chest, a smile appearing on your face as you completely ignored the ruined outfit sitting in your closet. That's all you had to do, MC. Just for a little while. Just smile and ignore.

「 CHAPTER IV | LOUE'S LETTER 」

[88-special]

Masterclass in Denial

Jeff Winger x Reader (Female pronouns)

Part 1 of 5

The 4 times you and Jeff denied your feelings for each other and the 1 time you didn't.

They were arguing again. They were always arguing. For a group of people who choose to spend all their time together they didn't seem to like each other very much. Y/n questioned her sanity, they all drove her crazy as well, but she too still chose to show up at every study group session. Maybe misery does love company, she smirked to herself.

"I just don't think it's fair!" Annie protested, "I go to every lecture, do my homework, take notes and then every time there's a test you all expect me to help you guys!" She ended her spiel with her arms crossed and a firm nod.

There was a chorus of objections, whines, and pleas from the group. Y/n mumbled about how she also has been at every class and has taken notes right alongside Annie. They quickly fell quiet when Jeff slammed his hands down on the table, starting another one of his famous pep talks. They went through this same song as dance every week it seemed. Y/n looked around the table, Annie was still pouting, but listening intently as Jeff spoke. Shirley sat alert, with her hands folded in front of her, nodding along glancing at Annie to see if the words were having their desired effect. Pierce was slouched back in his chair, head hung low - a snore escaped his open mouth, no one bothered to wake him, it was for the better. Troy and Abed were having some sort of silent conversation with a tremendous amount of eyebrow and shoulder wiggling. Britta was a near mirror image of Shirley, adding in a 'yeah' of support when appropriate.

"...In conclusion, America!"Jeff finished his monologue, plopping into his chair, arms spread wide, and a grin plastered on his face.

Annie dropped her shoulders, and sighing in defeat she pulled out her binder and began passing out individual copies of her notes. Y/n snatched her copy, eager to finally get studying and end the bickering. 

"So the test is supposed to cover chapters twelve through fourteen, I think we should quiz each other on vocab, and then-"

"VOCAB?!" Pierce cut in, irritable over the disruption of his nap. "As in vocabulary? We all already know words! How else would we be having this conversation?!"

"Pierce, you know that's not what-"

"Listen, I do know words, but what about-"

"What are these extra pages? Did we have homework?!-"

Annie, Troy, and Britta all began talking at once. Annie quickly shifted to chastise Britta. Pierce and Shirley launched into their third argument of the day. Troy and Abed pulled a magic eight ball seemingly out of thin air, to ask it if they were going to pass the test. Y/n gaped in horror before turning to Jeff who was oblivious, leaning back in his chair tapping away on his phone.

"Jeff, please do something!"

"They'll tire themselves out eventually." He shrugged without looking up.

Two hours later Y/n walked out of the library worried she was less prepared for the test than she had been this morning.

"Y/n!" Jeff called as she hurried down the steps. "Wait up!"

Y/n sighed and slowed her pace. Jeff jogged up to her, puffing out his chest as he discreetly tried to slow his breathing, ever concerned of his image.

"I think we've earned ourselves a drink over at Tavern 32."

'This must be hell, I died and this is my penance, to be stuck in an endless loop of crazy. Maybe Greendale was actually purgatory.' Y/n thought to herself. The whole reason they are all here is to finish school, get whatever degree needed, and move on with their lives, hopefully never thinking of this fever dream of a school ever again. Well, maybe not Jeff, he seemed to see the campus as his own personal dating app. Y/n resumed her gate.

"How do you figure? We didn't even open the book! Now I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night studying at home." 

"Cool, cool, I'll just grab some drinks from the store and we can have our own private study sesh at your place" Dear god, that grin, how many women has he fooled with that grin alone?

" 'No' is a full sentence Jeff. Have a good night." Y/n continued to her car and sped off without a second glance.

He just couldn't win with her, none of his usual charms worked. Even Britta has succumbed a couple times, but Y/n was immune. He tried to shake off the rejection and headed home. Telling himself the only reason it bothered him was because he hadn't won her over yet. Once she gave in, he'd lose interest, just like he always did. It was just a game. It wasn't guilt he felt earlier when she looked at him disapprovingly for not stepping in on the groups arguing. It wasn't his heart speeding up when her hand brushed his at the study table. It's just a game, give him his prize and then on to the next one. Jeff smacked the steering wheel and jerked left into the parking lot of the same bar he was trying to take Y/n to earlier. He doesn't need Y/n, he doesn't need anyone. He's Jeff fucking Winger.

The next morning Jeff sat slumped in his chair. Sunglasses on, clutching his third espresso like a lifeline. Y/n took her usual seat next to him, slamming her notebook on the table, relishing in the groan that emitted from her hungover classmate.

"Studied too hard last night?" She mused. 

Jeff lifted his head to reply. He swore she couldn't be more perfect, but here she was, light streaming from the window behind her, setting her aglow, that huge ugly sweater swallowing her whole, and her unbrushed hair sticking out in every direction. She was holding out a breakfast sandwich to him. Jeff lifted his sunglasses with a questioning look.

"Sausage, egg, and cheese, best hangover cure there is." She beamed at him.

"How did you - "

"Good morning class, clear off your desks, you have forty-five minutes to complete..."

Y/n shifted her attention to their professor. Jeff dug into the sandwich, the grease immediately working its magic. As he ate, he snuck glances at the girl next to him. He needed to stop chasing her, she was way too good for him.

Part 2

[dappersautismcreature]

ive been gone since purgatory, ive been gone since the forever situation, ive been even more gone since the wilbur situation, ive been gone since the original exadmin post dropped and ive been the most gone since dapper and pomme were forced out

im not doomposting i am observing the situation, and i am out

i will still use this blog, but ive never been deep in a fandom thats not mcyt. other fandoms do not have what we have here, i cannot see myself abandoning this space.

ive tried to keep posting on here, but with school, other interests, my own mental health, my differing opinions on the qsmp, its been hard. i know ive made like 3 different posts about this but i feel have to keep updating you all.

i miss qsmp, but i miss how it was months and months ago. i miss the summer, and the spring. i have to let go a little, or i will be sad.

and no, i cannot simply keep watching qsmp streams. do you know what its like having bad as your main pov? do you know why so many qbad fans are dipping? as opposed to roier mains, cellbit mains, philza mains? because our eggs are gone, half of his old vods have fucking forever in them, all of his lore was either egg related or forever related. i cant even go back and watch old content. and i cant watch current content because the fucking moral ocd holder in my head calls me a bad person when i do.

trying not to end this on an angry note but i guess what ill end on is that im tired. ive been tired, and i wish i could resume posting with the same frequency i did over the summer. but i just cant

[dreamersbcll]

“Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

- whumptober, no. 16

(hey. hey. don’t go where i can’t follow, okay?)

——————————————————————————-

When Tara dies, she hopes heaven is the beach. It’s the first time she's ever been. She is five, and the unrelenting waves knock her onto the warm sand. The ocean water is the only thing that has touched her without her permission.

She would dive into the water, giggling as it took her whichever way it desired. She would lay on her back and let her little body float into the ocean, letting the sunshine on her face.

If it were a perfect heaven, Sam would be with her. Her sister would be ten years old, taller than Tara, but strong enough to hold her above the waves. The two would dance through the water, splashing and giggling as their skin got kissed by the sun and the salt air filled their lungs.

There would be no screaming mothers or absent fathers. Tara would never know what it was like to be blessed by a blade, and her leg would never know what it was like to snap beneath her. There would be no more scars across her abdomen, no more asthma attacks wracking her lungs.

Tara would be young, untouched by life’s throes. She would be five years old and dancing through the waves with her big sister. Her skin may burn, and her hair may knot with the salt water, but she would still have Sam holding her hand and feeding her homemade sandwiches. Nothing would touch her.

But there was no such thing as a perfect heaven. And if there was, Tara wasn’t going there.

——

Sam is pretty sure that purgatory was sitting in the emergency room waiting room, listening to the bustle of a busy hospital. It was sitting in a plastic chair until her ass ached, her back stiff. Her legs bounced anxiously as she bit her nails down to nubs. Every few minutes, she smeared droplets of blood onto her jeans and continued tearing herself apart, piece by piece.

The stains didn’t matter. It would blend in with the blood she had smeared on her shirt. Tara’s blood. Sam didn’t realize how much blood was in a human body until she was trying to keep it inside of her baby sister.

It was all her fault. If she hadn’t picked up that extra shift last night, maybe, just maybe, Tara wouldn’t have been attacked. She knew the twins were out of town visiting their parents, and Kirby was busy on a case. It was a risk to leave Tara alone, knowing the monsters that lurked in their life. But what choice did she have? They needed the money for rent, and Tara was doing much better with being alone since New York. She had to make ends meet somehow.

And then the phone calls started. She was busy on the floor, serving upper-class cunts who would never know what it was like to be hunted for sport. Once Sam finally got to her phone in her locker, it was too little, too late. There were seventeen missed calls from Tara and a few from an unknown number. There, Sam knew what happened.

She doesn’t quite remember what happened next. One moment she was holding Tara’s lifeless body to her chest, screaming for help, blood soaking into her shirt. The next she was in the ambulance, holding Tara’s hand as the paramedics worked around her. And now, in the waiting room, waiting to see if she still had a baby sister to hold.

“Sam Carpenter?” called the ICU nurse, scanning the room.

Sam hopped to her feet, raising her hand like she was in school again. “Here, I’m here. Where’s Tara? Is she…?” she swallowed hard, refusing to say the words on her tongue.

The nurse nodded. “She’s in the ICU. Follow me.”

Sam followed the nurse, hands in her pocket, trying to remember what it felt like to breathe. She passed room by room, looking into rooms full of crying, stoic, and angry people. She doesn’t want to be one of them. But she could already feel the tears rising.

Finally the nurse stopped outside a closed door, gesturing for Sam to walk in.

Swallowing hard, Sam entered the room, gasping softly at the image in front of her.

Tara lay on the hospital bed, oxygen cannulas in her nose, her eyes closed. Fresh stitches were splayed across her cheek from the slash that cut her open from ear to nose. Her hands were laid across her abdomen, hiding the bulky bandages beneath.

What caught her eyes was how soft Tara looked despite the war she had sunk into. Her hair was spread across the pillow, her eyelashes fluttering with each breath she took.

Her little girl looked like an angel. And Sam wasn’t ready for that yet.

The sound of the door clicking shut woke Tara, her eyes opening slowly. At the sight of her big sister, Tara grinned, her eyes unfocused. “Sammy,” she breathed.

It took two steps for Sam to cross the room, collapsing into the chair next to the bed. She grasped one of Tara’s hands gently, caressing the scarred tissue.

She kissed the back of Tara’s hand, trying to swallow her tears. “Hi, baby. Hi honey. I’m here. I’m right here, she soothed, her voice wobbling.

Despite the tears that plagued her big sister’s voice, Tara kept smiling. She looked at her big sister with wondrous, dazed eyes, like Sam was the only thing she ever wanted to lay her eyes on.

“You’re here.”

Sam chuckled, the sound watery in her throat. “I am. I’m here. How are you, baby? How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

Her little sister just closed her eyes, smiling wide. “I’m floating,” she whispered.

“Oh yeah? Is that why you’re smiling so big?” Sam asked softly, trying to push the panic in her chest back down.

She’s never heard Tara this dazed, this far away before. Tara breathed hard but still looked so soft and gentle. But she wasn’t really here. She was drugged up, drifting away from her lifeline, but most importantly, Sam. She couldn’t let Tara leave. She wasn’t ready.

“I’ve never been this high before,” Tara whispered, grinning widely. As if they were kids again, sharing a bed, whispering secrets and sweet nothings to each other.

Sam swallowed hard. She needed to stay calm. This will get better. It had to. But she couldn’t freak out. Tara needed her.

“That's good, baby. I’m glad it doesn't hurt. I’m here, okay? I’ve got you.”

Tara nodded lethargically. “I saw heaven.”

The world stopped spinning, the air vanishing from the room. Sam could feel her heart in her shoes, her stomach flipping uncomfortably. That was the last thing she needed to hear, especially as she was fine and Tara was damaged. “What?”

“Angels are s’posed to fly, Sammy,” her little girl said, her eyes drifting from Sam’s like she was seeing something other than her big sister.

Sam reached over and gently grasped Tara’s chin, forcing her to look at her. “I know that, honey. But you have to stay here, on the ground, with me. You have to stay with me. You’re not an angel yet, got it?” she sternly said, her lower lip wobbling.

Tara hummed. “Angels are flying. I know what’s behind the door. I’m gonna fly.”

“No, you’re not. One day, maybe, but not today. You’re not going anywhere that I can’t follow. You’re staying. Say it back to me,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

Her little sister nodded slightly, her eyes drooping in exhaustion. “I’m tired.”

Nodding mechanically, Sam took a deep breath in. Her sister was exhausted. She would just fall asleep and come back like normal. “You can sleep, baby, but you don’t get to leave. You have to stay, okay? Do you hear me? You have to stay.”

“Okay, Sammy. Love you,” Tara mumbled, closing her eyes and promptly falling asleep.

Sam squeezed Tara’s hand hard, kissing the fingers that she held. “I love you, baby. So much. I’m here,” she whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Tara couldn’t see her cry, but now that she was sleeping, she could cry. Sam stayed like that, hunched over her little sister’s body, holding her hands tightly, tears spilling on the fingers she grasped. She tries to fight the animalistic urge to cover Tara, pick her up, and keep her close. But she doesn’t. She knows better than to disrupt the healing that had to happen.

She’s pretty sure that this is what hell is supposed to be. She is healthy and alive, watching her sister’s life slip through her fingers like sand on a beach.

At least the sand can stay on the beach. Once Tara leaves for good, Sam can’t follow.

[oopsiedaisymae]

the audience for this post is like, the two people who have already seen it on discord, but nonetheless, i want to share.

my mc's name is winter. she's pretty straight-laced, logical, generally rule-abiding but will get into trouble if she finds herself lacking a challenge or something to keep her hands busy. on my obey me writing blog (cuz i have a twst one now too!) i have plans to write for her as an mc and ship her with solomon. but i ALSO have plans to write a winter x mc au and. i've been having some really good thoughts on that.

for starters, the general premise is that the exchange program accepted three being from each realm (which makes room for the angel oc i have brewing... 👀) and she's one of human exchange students. she's a self-taught sorcerer that's very much stuck at a beginner level, in part due to the fact that she had no idea all of this magical realm stuff existed before coming to the devildom. she applied for the exchange program in hopes to get more credits for her phd. obviously, she was not prepared for this situation, but she adapts pretty quickly and does well at RAD.

since it's a winter x reader au, winter lives at purgatory hall with the other exchange students. their dynamic is so wonderful to me-- in the house of misfits, she fits right in. she's an amateur writer, so she loves chatting with simeon over tea about novel ideas and eventually becomes a pretty faithful TSL fan. she's an exasperated solomon wrangler who dodges his cooking at every turn and is too prideful to ask the best sorcerer the human world has to offer for help with her magical studies. she's not all that fond of children, yet she finds herself protective of luke, letting down her guard to bake with him in the afternoons for all of their new friends. even raphael, someone she struggles to interact with (bc they're both oh-so-awkward) earbs her respect and affection over time as they're roped into shenanigans by their roommates. they make the dorm a home together.

but you? oh, how she's hopelessly in love with you.

in the chaos of the devildom, somehow her eyes are always drawn to you. she's not all that interested in making friends when she first arrives, dedicating all her energy to settling herself in the realm. but there's always things drawing you to each other. classwork, exchange program responsibilities, your growing camradarie with her roommates at purgaory hall. it's inevitable that you guys become friendly. she's awkward and always a bit stressed or nervous, but she's friendly enough in your interactions early on that you swap numbers about halfway through the year. groupwork turns into occasional text conversations, and eventually you're close enough to gravitate towards each other for a simple conversation at parties. by the time the exchange program ends, you're making promises to make time for each other in the human realm.

life happens. you guys keep up a friendship through texts and video calls. winter finds herself longing for an excuse to be intertwined in your life again. RAD was a rigorous school, but she'd do it all again to have an excuse to be dragged into late night study sessions with you. watching your life change from a small screen fills her with a strange sense of emptiness. when the call ends, do you still think about her?

your return to the devildom is revealed to her through a cheeky text from solomon. she's so incredibly *annoyed.* of course he'd use magic to steal you away and whisk you back to the devildom without her. oh, and simeon and luke are returning, too? lovely. the whole gang's meeting up eithout her. envious? never, she wouldn't stoop so--

she's jealous. obviously. there's some back and forth where he teases her (and makes her ask *politely* for his assistance) until he steps away for a moment to bribg her back to the devildom. finally, you're reunited!

it's in this stretch of time that she falls in love with you. oh, winter barnett, someone who adamantly denies herself pleasure in many forms, finds herself sickeningly subdued as she falls for you. once the realization hits her, it's like a poison has flooded her veins, leaving her in a stupor. she expected herself to be more resistant to the idea, but honestly... who is she to resist your charms? she knows you. she watched all seven of the demon brothers fall for you over the course of a year. it only feels natural to be drawn to you in the same way. you... so determined, so strong, resilent in the face of overwhelming chaos and somehow still standing at the end of it.

winter's a human. she's got a small farm in vermont and very mediocre magic to her name. she's not a famous demon, nor and angel, nor a powerful immortal. on some level, she knows she's not enough for you. maybe that's why she's content to keep her mouth shut for awhile.

maybe it's enough to sit quietly by your side, admiring your when you're not looking. maybe it's best to bide her time and hope that she can catch your eye one day. until then, she's content with the little things-- your smile, your texts, your laugh, the way you look at her from across the classroom and the way she's completely smitten against all odds.

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Twelve

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, threesome, double penetration, poly negotiations, angst

length: 21,009

summary: with the help of renjun, the three of you finally get closer to reconnecting with yuta and ten

<-previous || next–>

The Watcher is still there the following morning. Stationed outside the rooms they put you, Mark, and WinWin up in. He’s sitting casually in one of the seats in the nearby lounge area, but he’s there regardless. Just as he was when you and WinWin went down to the Banquet hall for supper last night. He’d resumed his position when you returned from supper, and now here he sits still.

You’re sneaking out this morning.

WinWin was still asleep when you pulled yourself from the bed. Mark was gone, though you had the vague memory of him telling you before you fell asleep just a few hours ago that he was going out to explore the House again. 

Curiosity was calling out to you, and it wouldn’t wait for either of your companions. You’d manifested a new outfit, one similar to what you’d worn yesterday, and you’d quickly pulled it on, laced up your boots, and walked out the door into the dawn light of the manor. Pleased with yourself for being so sneaky, you were disappointed to find that damn Watcher.

He lifts his hooded head when you step out, but other than that, he doesn’t move.

You close the door quietly, and without another glance in the Watcher’s direction, you take off down the spiral stairs. You all but run down them, hoping to outdistance the Watcher if he chooses to follow you. Maybe he’s not here for you; maybe he’s watching WinWin or Mark. Regardless, you run down the steps, zip around a corner, take a right, and bolt down a hallway. If he’s following you, he’d better be fast to keep up with you, but when you slow down and look over your shoulder, there’s no sign of him.

You slow fully to a walk, your footsteps muffled on the thick carpet of this hallway. Large windows look out over rainy fields of golden wheat; luscious red velvet curtains are pulled to either side of each window, doing nothing to mask the bright flash of lightning shooting across that sky. The thunder never reaches you, though you’re sure that wherever in the world that window is looking out on, the resulting boom must have been quite loud.

Turning away from the windows, you look at the doors that open off of this hallway. Many of them are shut, some are open only slightly, but each of them calls to your curiosity. Yesterday had only been a little taste of what this house holds. WinWin hadn’t let you go poking your nose through too many doors, but today you want to test them all. 

The first door you try is locked, as is the second. The third opens into a completely dark room with furniture draped in dust covers. You continue down every room in that hallway, finding that the closed doors are all locked, and the doors partially opened have nothing of import inside. Disappointing, but you continue on.

You walk along a stretch of hallway that is open on one side with only a handrail keeping you from tumbling down what looks to be seven floors, meaning somehow you’ve gotten from where you were on what had felt like possibly the second floor to now the eighth floor of probably the school wing of this place. A short distance on, you open a door and find an empty auditorium or theater. You find open doors to rooms that are occupied, though you skirt quickly by those, and there are closed doors that you can hear quiet voices behind. And then there are still many, many empty rooms in this place.

You pass no one. The house is silent mostly, and you wander until the sun is rising through the windows that look out onto Purgatory.

Just as you’re considering calling your solo exploration at an end, planning to start the journey back to either the Banquet hall or to your room, you hear the sound of movement behind a closed door to your left. Shuffling footsteps, a thump.

 Normally, you would leave it alone, except that you swear you hear your name. 

Instantly your mind goes to Mark. It goes to the bully Watchers from yesterday. You’re not sure exactly what you can do against them, but you’re not about to stand idly by if it is Mark inside that room. 

 You push open the door and find yourself in a strangely completely empty  room. It looks nothing like any of the other rooms you’ve seen here. The floors are just unfinished planks, and the walls were once apparently covered in plaster, though now the wooden slats show more than anything else. A mirror hangs crooked on one wall, along with an old sun-faded photograph of a handsome man smiling in front of the sea. There is no furniture unless a rug tightly rolled, covered in dust, and shoved against the wall beneath two windows counts. The view from this room looks out to an overgrown lawn, and through a wall of trees, you can barely make out the sight of a city street beyond. But it’s snowing out there, just on the other side of the window. Some of it has piled on the ledge, and it’s beginning to accumulate in the overgrown grass. 

But the room is empty, though you know you just heard someone in here. There’s only one door, the windows firmly shut. 

The silence feels less than still, as if someone had just left. You spin in a circle, but the empty shadows and the dust hide nothing.

“What are you doing?” A voice, right at your ear.

You jump, spinning around in fright.

Renjun stands there, smiling peaceably, his hands folded behind his back. “I always find you in strange places. Is there something I can help you with?”

You feel perfectly within your right to eye him suspiciously. “Where did you come from?” He hadn’t made a sound, though you can see his footprints right beside yours in the thick dust covering the wooden planks. 

“I saw you come in here. Thought I’d see if you were looking for anything in particular or if you’re just wandering about like yesterday morning.” Renjun bounces lightly on his toes, then suddenly he walks towards the window, tracing his finger over the glass. “It’s pretty out there, isn’t it?” He glances back over his shoulder at you. 

You nod. “I miss the snow. It used to be my favorite time of year when I would wake up one morning and the entire neighborhood was covered in untouched snow, just sparkling in the sunlight, waiting to be played in.” 

Renjun looks at you for a moment longer before he faces the window again. “I’ve never played in the snow.”

“Never?” You walk forward to stand with him at the window. “That’s an experience I believe everyone should have at least once.”

“I don’t get out of the House much,” Renjun admits. He suddenly turns his back on the window with a sigh. “Can I show you something?” 

You’re all about the exploration mindset today, so you don’t hesitate to agree, ready to go along wherever Renjun wants to take you. 

He leads you out of the room and down the hallway. You find, as he begins taking twisting turns and stairs and even some of the secret passages hidden behind tapestries and portraits and false walls, you think you have a good idea of the general direction he’s taking you. Even though everything rearranges, you already feel like you’ve got somewhat of an understanding of how this place works. Renjun is slowly leading you down toward the ground floor, somewhere towards where he’d first found you yesterday morning in the unused ballroom. 

Renjun brings you out to a long stretch of corridor where the walls are completely covered in tapestries and murals. At the far end of the hallway is a statue of marble that gleams in the sunlight coming through the windows placed sporadically along the hall. From this distance, you can’t quite tell what the statue is, but you can however see the nearest tapestry. 

It’s not unlike one that you would have seen at Church or in the monastery your mother took you to visit. There is a male figure clearly representing God situated in the middle of the tapestry, and all of creation spreads out around him. Stars and moons, the planets, the Earth with all of its plants and creatures and people. The work is nothing abnormal, though it is very finely done. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” You ask Renjun, moving by this first tapestry to the next. “Watcher artwork?”

“Not just artwork. It’s history. Watcher history.” He keeps pace with you. “Like I said, I don’t get out of this House much, and this tapestry hall has always been one of my favorite places. I like to see the stories that I’ve only heard about.” He lifts a hand to brush his fingers along the fabric of the second tapestry, but he stops just shy of making contact. “Do you want to hear them?”

You watch Renjun’s pretty and fine features — the way that his eyes lift to trace familiar patterns on the fabric, his lips twitching with a gentle smile — and then you see the glint of his silvery blond hair beneath the dark top layer, and the way that his eyes flicker between silvery and hazel when he looks over at you. Renjun cocks his head slightly to the side, as if to repeat his question. 

You nod. “Tell me.”

Renjun smiles, and he points back over at the first panel on the wall. 

“In the beginning was God,” he says.

“I’ve heard this one before,” you bump your shoulder against his. “I was raised religious, so the story of Creation is one that I’ve heard –”

Renjun cuts you off. “You haven’t heard this one.”

He lifts his hand, this time actually tracing the shape of a fox woven into the first panel. His history lesson resumes with, “God created the Universe, filling it with marvels of fire and ice, of gas and rock, of planets and moons and stars that glowed in vivid colors. The Universe was beautiful, but He was lonely. Thus, He begot the Earth. A treasure planet of His for the way that it gleamed in the light of its nearby Sun, warm and damp, ripe to bring forth life. He filled the world with plants, with animals, with people, with experiments and ideas. For a while the Creation entertained Him, but, as any great inventor or creator, He grew bored with His project. Watching the minutiae of life developing no longer interested Him, and therefore He created the Watcher.”

Now Renjun returns to the second panel, and you see the God figure now accompanied by a smaller figure, cloaked and hooded. The taller of the two has his hand held out, as if he’s gesturing towards the woven trees and birds and four-legged creatures.

“First came the High Watcher.” Renjun says, “A companion to God more than anything else. He listened, he learned, he understood his power and his responsibility. All was well. For a time, anyway.” Renjun walks along the wall, and you follow, studying the tapestries that he passes by, but doesn’t linger on. They depict the High Watcher’s study at the right hand of God. Sometimes there are people, just grotesque renditions of humans, and sometimes there are animals or other beings that you can only assume belong to the supernatural realm. You recognize a satyr, a mermaid, a winged woman.

“Pleased with the High Watcher, God took a step back to entertain Himself elsewhere. He left the High Watcher to watch over Creation.” Another few panels showing the cloaked and hooded figure of the High Watcher among God’s creatures on Earth. Slowly, you watch as the images woven into the panels shift. Suddenly there are fires, and then fighting, war and bloodshed. Renjun pauses in front of one that looks particularly brutal. The tapestry consists of a lot of reds, browns, purples, and oranges with minor splashes of other colors.

“The experiments of God and the humans did not get along. They fought each other, destroying each other.” Renjun folds his hands behind his back, gazing up at the wall hanging. 

You look as well, regrettably. There you see some kind of beast that closely resembles a werewolf with its claws speared through a human, dripping gore to water the ground. There are carrion birds mixing with harpies in the sky. Small devilish red demons surround humans. Humans tear apart what at first glance appears to be a large cat until you realize it has the face of a woman. “If the High Watcher was meant to be watching over God’s creation, how could all of this happen?”

You close your eyes, just listening as Renjun explains, “There was only so much that the High Watcher could do. He was powerful, but he was only one Watcher. He couldn’t be everywhere, couldn’t see everything. When he witnessed the destruction the humans and the others were wreaking upon each other, he petitioned God for assistance.” 

Renjun taps your shoulder, and you move forward, looking to the next tapestry. The High Watcher kneels in petition before God, hands held aloft with a tablet being offered to the taller figure. The next shows God and the High Watcher accompanied by several more figures. “First, God created Hell. He took the demons from Earth, and He gave them Hell, a place to reign and to punish. He created Heaven, a place of peace for those deserving. Lastly, God created the high-level Watchers to assist the High Watcher. These He trained as He had the High Watcher before them. They listened, they learned, they understood their power and responsibilities. These high-level Watchers received the freedom of control over their assigned areas of surveillance. They were intelligent and powerful, yet they aspired for more.

“This second generation of Watchers pooled their knowledge, they experimented with their powers, growing and developing until they possessed almost more power than the High Watcher himself. As the Watchers grew, so too did humanity and the experiments of God. They grew in number while the headcount of Watchers remained unchanged. It grew difficult to oversee everything, even with their abilities. The high-level Watchers went to the High Watcher, and once more he petitioned God for help.”

You watch the story playing out on the tapestries as Renjun leads you along, amazed to watch as the world and the people within it develop and expand. You look at depictions of the high-level Watchers descending towards the people on the ground, and they look every bit like an angel might, glowing golden, radiant. You see the high-level Watchers experimenting with their powers to transform shapes, to create things from nothing, they fly and they breathe underwater. To you, it seems that they’re attempting to possess all of the powers that God endowed on his experimental supernatural creatures.

“God created the low-level Watchers now.” Renjun continues without pause, “These He did not train. He passed them into the care of the high-level Watchers to train as they saw fit. The second generation of Watchers did not wish for their juniors to be able to overpower them. They wished for the new Watchers to remain their subordinates, therefore they passed on only as much knowledge as they wished to disclose while they still secretly developed their own knowledge, withholding their discoveries from the High Watcher and from God.

“In time, even the power of all the Watchers that were at that time was not enough to prevent the Wars Between the Races. The High Watcher was already old by this point, blinded by his visions of overlapping time – the past, present, and ever-changing future – and the high-level Watchers were buried in their endless pursuit of knowledge and power.” Renjun points at a painted mural that now takes the place of the row of tapestries. You see black cloaked Watchers on the ground among the warring humans and supernatural others while the high-level Watchers sit above in their glowing halos of gold, and the High Watcher sits shrouded in a dark corner of the image.

“The low-level Watchers were overwhelmed, so they bridged the divide between themselves and God, pleading with Him for aid in this War Between the Races wherein His Earthly creations were destroying each other.” A new mural, and this time a cluster of the black-cloaked Watchers climb the Heavens to lay their appeal before God, the next shows the Watchers in black standing once more on Earth beside Watchers in silver. “The Soldier Watchers were born,” Renjun explains.

You can’t help gasping as your eyes finally come to rest upon the statue here at the end of the corridor. You can’t believe you’ve already reached the end. 

“Terrifying, right?” Renjun comments at the sound of your surprised gasp. “Soldier Watchers, arrayed in their silver, their dazzling crowns, wearing sun rays as weapons.” 

Together you look at the statue that is exactly as Renjun has just described. The statue is carved out of some sort of gray stone, possibly granite, though the cloak is polished to an impossible shade of silvery gray, the folds of the cloak are embellished with actual silver. A jagged crown of obsidian, pearls, and diamonds sits atop the effigy’s head, and rays of sunlight pour through the window just behind this marvelous piece of art, radiating around this Soldier Watcher in a way that visibly mimics blades.

Renjun bows his head slightly, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s not performing the motion out of respect, but rather he’s looking at the base of the statue. A hemispherical base that is artistically and intentionally cracking, fracturing in places. “The Soldier Watchers tore the world apart,” Renjun’s voice is quiet as he says, “They split the natural from the supernatural, or the humans and the experiments. God divided the World, the Life and the Afterlife. Heaven and Hell already existed to some degree, but He created a new realm: Purgatory, the land of the Watchers, to observe safely from a distance, a place in which to decide judgment. He created a city on Earth for His supernatural children to live in peace, apart from His other children.”

Hell City. 

Renjun turns to face you, and he startled, looking beyond your shoulder. Quickly you twist around too. 

A dark figure is skidding around the corner, running along the hall towards you in a blur, and it’s only when he slides to a halt right in front of you, that you recognize Mark. You have only the briefest moment of recognition before his hand is around your wrist, and then you’re flying too. The world blurs around you in an uncomfortable sort of way, and then it resolves into a mass of gray in front of your eyes, which has you confused for a moment until you hear Mark’s breath beside you. You’re crouched right beside him, and when you turn towards him to find that there is a window behind you looking out over a sunny seascape. 

Mark is panting, his hair windswept from his run, and he’s clutching your wrist tight enough that you can’t feel your fingers. 

“Mark, what is—?” 

He releases your wrist just to cover your mouth with his hand instead. “Quiet. I was being chased by a herd of Watchers.” He holds a finger to his lips. 

As you listen to the silence, you do hear the distant thunder of racing footsteps, and then you hear Renjun’s voice just on your other side, a whispered, “Why’re we hiding?”

You spin around fast enough that your neck aches. Renjun crouches there, close enough that you’re shocked you didn’t know he was there before he spoke. You see that his fingers are curled around the edge of a stone plinth, and then you realize that Mark dragged you behind the statue of the soldier Watcher, where Renjun promptly joined you. 

And then Renjun hears it too. 

The footsteps and the voices. 

His eyes go wide and his mouth forms an O of surprise. He scoots just a little bit closer to you, more securely hidden behind the statue. Mark tenses up, pulling you closer, a bit further away from Renjun. 

None of you say anything or move at all as the Watchers come closer. You feel Mark’s cool hand still covering your mouth, his other hand rests at your waist. The Watchers rumble by and you hear their grumbling, rude voices — “What did that leech think he was doing?” and “Free to wander? Vermin like him should be locked up or just exterminated,” and “Next time I see that vampire, no questions asked. I’ve never met a vampire that wasn’t a piece of trouble.” — and it makes your stomach curl with horror to realize that they’re talking about Mark. You cover his hand at your waist, squeezing his fingers lightly. 

Luckily, these Watchers seem to be young ones, and despite the fact that they’re called Watchers, they’re not very observant. They all run right towards the statue, but they take a left where a new hall stretches forward. Not one of them thinks to check if anyone is hiding behind the bulk of the Soldier Watcher’s statue. You, Mark, and Renjun watch in silence as the whole herd of Watchers run down the other hallway, and then they plunge together down a staircase to the floor below. 

Mark lets out a breath, slumping down to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he curses, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his cheek to the floor though he still clutches your hand in his. “Damn, I thought I was a goner when they started chasing me. I couldn’t run fast enough, I felt so sluggish.”

“That would be due to the animal blood,” Renjun says quietly. He’s not looking at either you or Mark; he’s still looking at the spot where the Watcher horde disappeared. “We don’t have human blood, so the blood the kitchen’s been sending up has been animal blood. I’ve read studies on vampires, and all the experimental studies show a decrease in the power of vampire skills is a result of the alternative diet.” 

Mark opens his eyes slowly, red irises peeking out from half-opened lids. “I’ve never heard that before.”

Renjun shrugs. “How many vampires who drink animal blood do you know?”

You can read the answer plainly on Mark’s face. There aren’t many, if there are any at all.

When Renjun moves closer to you again Mark bares his teeth and hisses. Renjun actually rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m not one of them!” He insists. “I promise you, I don’t care that you’re a vampire. I’m not like the Watchers who have such a deep-seated hatred for vampires, hating your kind more than they hate anything other than a demon, maybe. You being a vampire doesn’t make you any less of an actual person, not to me. I don’t think it makes you evil or vile. So stop acting like I’m about to treat you like they do.”

Mark stares at him. “How can we possibly trust you? How are you not one of them? You live here, don’t you? You passively sit by and let them do everything they do, don’t you?”

Renjun’s lips form into a tight line. He stands up, still looking down at you and Mark, and then without another word, he walks away. 

“Way to go, Mark,” you groan, pulling your hand away from him. “I like him! He’s nice, and he was teaching me about the Watchers. You and WinWin need to pull your heads out of your asses, honestly. He’s not a bad guy.”

Mark looks at Renjun’s empty spot, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he blinks. You wish you could know what he was thinking, but mind-reading is yet another skill that Yuta and Ten had failed to teach you before their arrest. Looking at Mark, you try to follow the instructions you’d received in one of the few lessons your demons had given you in mind-reading, but you get nothing more than maybe the slightest hazy vision of yourself from Mark’s perspective on the floor, but that could just be your own imagination’s conjuring. 

After several moments, Mark sits up. “Do you really think we can trust him?” He asks. “Not to sound like WinWin, but you have been known to trust blindly too quickly. Don’t go,” Mark says quickly when you start to stand up. His hand falls on your knee, keeping you hidden behind the statue with him so he can say, “I just mean, I can see why you like him. He’s got a pure, trustworthy face. He does seem nice and friendly. I just… I find it difficult to believe that we can trust someone who lives in the House of the Watchers, who seems so comfortable here?”

But does Renjun really seem all that comfortable here? You feel like every time you’ve seen him he’s trying his best to be quiet. He seems secretive. And he hid when you and Mark hid, he seemed just as surprised and scared of the passing Watchers as you and Mark had. Yes, he knows a lot about the House, the Watchers and their history, but that doesn’t seem something that could make him untrustworthy. He’s been nothing but helpful since you first arrived. 

“Why don’t we just try to find our way back to WinWin?” You say, and you do stand up this time. Peering around the edges of the statue, you see nothing but the empty halls, the murals and tapestries, and your shadow stretching along the floor from the light behind you. 

“What about them?” Mark asks, rising to his feet. “You heard what they were saying. If we cross paths, I’m not at full strength.” 

“Are you scared, Mark? Don’t forget who you are. You’re that badass boss from Hell City. Don’t let a few bully Watchers make you think that you have to cower behind a statue. Even at half strength, I’m sure you could beat them in a fight.” You shake your head. “We’ll be fine.”

The look on Mark’s face tells you that he doesn’t believe your words, but he follows you out from behind the statue regardless. 

Navigating your way through the House isn’t as difficult as you would have thought. You recognize some of the spots you pass by, and while you know that they could have possibly reconfigured since you passed through, you and Mark seem to be making your way back towards the area where you’re fairly certain your spiral staircase up to your rooms is. Mark does make you hesitate at every corner to make sure there aren’t any Watchers lurking, which does slow down your progress a bit. 

You feel like you must be nearly there when the sound of the bell calling the Watchers to breakfast sounds through the place. The gonging echoes along the corridors, vibrating the windows, and Mark grabs you and pulls you back against him. His back is pressed to the wall, and you’re pressed against him, your hands trapped between your chest and his. For a moment, you stay like that, frozen by the heat of his eyes locked on yours, your breath tangling with his as close as you are. It takes several long seconds until you gather your wits and pry yourself away. Mark’s fingers grapple with your shirt to pull you back, but you knock his hands away. 

“It’s fine, Mark. They’re all going to be down in the Banquet Hall eating, not searching for you.” You turn around to look at Mark while you back away. “So let’s go while we can still make it back to the room without any of them seeing you. Once we’re there, you don’t have to leave again until the trial, if that’s what you want. But they’re all down at the Banquet Hall, so let’s move be—”

Your shoulders bump into something. Firmer than the nothing that you were expecting to be there, yet softer than a wall which is what you’re hoping for. And then you feel fingers curl against your arms. A chill creeps up your spine, especially when you see the pale, bloodless look of Mark’s face. 

“We’ve been looking for you,” drawls a low voice. 

You’re ready to put your fighting lessons with Mark and WinWin into effect. Your muscles tense, ready to break free of this man’s hold, to spin around and take him down so you and Mark have time to run. 

Before you can do that, the Watcher forcibly turns you around to face him. 

You see the black robes, the glint of silver at his shoulder. It’s that damn stalker Watcher. You squirm, trying to shove him away, but he doesn’t let go. Behind him, you can see two other black-cloaked Watchers. 

“The High Watcher would like another audience. Please, stop struggling.” He releases you suddenly, and you stumble backwards. You likely would have hit the floor, except that Mark is suddenly there, arms around your waist while your shoulders brace against his chest. The three Watchers just look down at you, their veiled gazes burning against your skin, or maybe that’s just the feel of Mark’s icy fingers where your top has come untucked from your waistband, his cold skin against yours. 

The stalker Watcher extends one hand, gesturing at you and Mark. “He will allow, this time, for your companion to come as well,” he announces. “Especially if it will make you come along more willingly.”

Is this some kind of a trick? You glance up at Mark, and he’s already looking at you. 

“I don’t think WinWin would be too happy with me if I let you go with them alone,” Mark murmurs. “And I don’t see them letting us not go with them.”

He makes some valid points. It’s decided. You’ll go with them. 

The three Watchers form a triangle around you and Mark, and they lead you back to the court room where you’d convened with the High Watcher just the previous morning. 

Mark gasps audibly, a familiar reaction, as the Watchers bring you into the room. 

The seats along the sides of the room, as well as the High Watcher’s throne, are vacant. Now three seats are positioned in the middle of the room where yesterday there had been only one, and you can’t help wondering if they’re dragging WinWin to this, or if the third chair was just an eventuality. You and Mark are herded right to the seats, and wordlessly, you take them. 

Two of the Watchers drift back towards the doors. The stalker Watcher, however, remains. He stands close guard on the two of you, so close that you dare not speak, not that you think Mark would be listening anyway. His head spins on a swivel, eyes wide and mouth agape in awe of the room, of the rose window behind the throne, the dazzling shimmering light. 

He’s still observing the room while you observe him, when the doors of the court room reopen, and the stream of Watchers and the High Watcher enter the room. 

Several of the Watchers look rather annoyed, and you wonder if they got the chance to eat their breakfasts before the High Watcher pulled them away. He looks mild, pacing the length of the room steadily, expressionless. He doesn’t even spare you and Mark a glance until after he’s climbed his throne and seated himself as comfortably as that seat can possibly make him. His strange eyes stare out at you, but his gaze seems distant and distracted, seeing you and possibly seeing more. 

You can’t help thinking of the tapestry hall, of Renjun’s stories. Looking at this wrinkled old Watcher, you can hardly believe that he’s so old, as old as Creation itself essentially. This man has convened with God, has observed humanity since the earliest days. He has lived through every great moment, every tragedy, the highs and the lows of time. 

“You are probably wondering why I have summoned you back here today, aren’t you, my dear?” The High Watcher says in his raspy voice. Mark startles beside you, as if he’d expected to hear a different voice, or perhaps he hadn’t expected the High Watcher to speak at all.  The High Watcher doesn’t even acknowledge Mark’s presence as he says, “We were curious about you. What can you do, dear girl?”

Something in his voice makes you sit up a little straighter. You put your hands on your knees and clear your throat. What does he mean by that: what can you do? 

Your silence fills the room. 

“Surely,” the High Watcher sighs, “Surely you understand your power? We would like to see.”

What do they want from you? A light show? Didn’t some of them already get a show of that yesterday in the library? 

“Why do you want to see that?” Mark asks, and his voice sounds surprisingly croaky. He clears his throat. “I mean, she does what any basic demon can do with fire.”

You want to pinch him to tell him to shut up, but you can’t without making it obvious. The High Watcher’s gaze has gained some clarity. Every single other eye in the room is trained on the two of you. The stalker Watcher is still standing close at hand. 

“I can produce fire, though I’m sure you’re already aware of that.” You lift a hand from your leg, summoning a flame hardly bigger than a spark to dance across your fingertips. It’s barely visible in the bright light of the room. 

The High Watcher at last smiles, though it’s a grim rendition. “Yes, the incident yesterday. A mistake, on all sides.” He waves a hand in the air, as if trying to erase the event from your minds, but you can’t so easily forgive the Watchers that intended harm. “Your fire was quite a surprise, as you might imagine. And while it wasn’t welcome in our library, there isn’t much here to burn, if you wouldn’t mind a demonstration. We haven’t had much of a chance to witness demon fire in quite a long time. Some of the brothers haven’t ever had the opportunity to amaze at it.”

So you’ve been brought here as what? Some kind of circus freak? As an experimental study, like the studies on vampires that Renjun had mentioned earlier? And although there aren’t any books in this room, and not much here might be flammable other than the clothes you all wear and the chairs, there is one particularly flammable thing close at hand. 

Mark sits beside you, staring over at you when you push to your feet. 

Vampires and fire don’t mix. That’s one thing you’ve learned since arriving in Hell City. They’re quite flammable, and fire is the one thing that they can’t come back from. If the High Watcher wants to witness you going all-out with your demon fire, you’re not about to do it when Mark is in any sort of proximity to you. You won’t hurt him, just as you wouldn’t do it if WinWin was beside you, nor anyone else that you’ve met, excluding Ten or Yuta. If the High Watcher would be so kind as to bring the two demons out and have them stand beside you, you would do anything he asks of you, even if it meant turning yourself supernova. 

“You just want me to show off a little demon fire?” You ask as you raise your hand again, this time summoning a ball of fire to roll around in the palm of your hand. It slowly expands until it’s swallowed your fingers, licking wild flames at the edges, like the corona of the sun. The heat of it kisses your cheeks, producing a faint breeze that plays with the loose hairs around your face. 

The High Watcher’s smile twists into one of delight, and you can see your golden flames reflecting in his eyes. The Watchers along the ages of the room murmur in low voices to each other. Behind you, the stalker Watcher twitches, taking a step closer before he falls back again. You don’t know what any of this means, why they’re possibly so delighted by your relatively little light show.

Once the light fades, the heat in your palms all that remains of the small fireball, the High Watcher sits forward. “And what else can you do?”

You wish you could say that you didn’t spend all morning standing there in that long hall, testing the limits of your power for the amusement of the Watchers. You wish that Mark didn’t have to sit there beside you through it all. You wish that they would at least have brought you something to eat since you were feeling drained the longer it went on.

After a while you were exhausted and annoyed, and when new tricks were requested, you began to be openly hostile. You threw darts of fire towards the Watchers, slung around ropes of fire. 

For the most part you kept yourself in check because you didn’t want to show them all of what you can do, so you kept your ability to teleport a secret. Some of the little tricks that Yuta and Ten had taught you, you kept those close to your chest too, but many other things you showed them because the High Watcher kept pressing you for more. He wanted to see it all, and the look on his face read like a child enchanted by a magician’s tricks at a party, enraptured as he watched you succeed in some minor shape-shifting as you stretch yourself taller into an almost ghastly shape, towering and curving forward with a leering grin. 

It’s only when you finally collapse backwards into your seat, heart hammering, and the world growing slightly hazy at the edges that Mark leans over you, his cool hands on your cheeks. 

“That’s enough,” Mark calls, twisting his head around to look over his shoulder. “You push her any further and you could kill her.” 

“Yes, yes,” the High Watcher rasps. “We’re done for the day.”

When he looks back at you, Mark is the only thing you can see. His vibrant eyes are a dark shade of red, closer to brown. His eyebrows are drawn with worry, wrinkling the skin between. His hands push at your hair, touch your heated cheeks. “Don’t pass out, okay? WinWin will kill me if I bring you back unconscious.” He looks up behind you and says, “Can’t you get someone to bring her some food or something? She needs to get her strength back up.” 

You hear the rumble of the court of Watchers getting to their feet, filing from the room, and you suddenly remember something very important. You find the strength to lift your head, and you peer around the room until you see the hazy shape of the High Watcher stepping down from his high seat. 

“High Watcher!” You manage to push the words out. “One thing, please, before you go?”

You hear shuffling footsteps and the gentle thump of his staff on the ground, and then there he stands before you, hunched and ancient. The wrinkles in his face are deep canyons, and this close you can see that his eyes appear so strange because they’re glazed with age. His voice is still a hoarse rasp when he answers, “Yes, child?”

“Some of the Watchers, the student ones, they’re threatening my friend, Mark.” You gesture to the vampire in question, continuing, “Based solely on their prejudices, they are threatening serious harm to him if they cross paths with him. Can’t you do something about that?” 

He nods. “I will make it known, that is not permitted. Guests are to be treated with respect. Causing undue harm has never been permissible for Watchers, nor for anyone.” He nods once more, and then looks behind you to who you can only assume is your shadow — the stalker Watcher. “Find the girl some food, and make sure they return safely. Good day to the two of you.” He bows his head and shuffles away, looking every bit the average old man. 

Although WinWin was a bit pissed when the stalker Watcher silently returns you and Mark to the suite of rooms, he’s more grateful that you’re okay. He spent a good ten minutes or more hugging you, checking you over for injuries as Mark recounted the events of the morning. You felt fine since an elf runner from the kitchen had delivered food to you and a bottle of blood to Mark in the court room. 

Most of the next few hours was just spent in the common room. Mark and WinWin confer in quiet voices while you doze in the window seat, basking in sunlight. You don’t really have any idea what they’re whispering about until you briefly wake from your light sleep, and you overhear WinWin say, “Their scents were strongest around that spot. So surely they must be keeping them somewhere around there, right?”

“Maybe.” Mark sounds deep in though, but you don’t dare to lift an eyelid to take a peek. If either of them notice that you’re awake they’ll get quiet again. “I still think they’ve got to be keeping them somewhere super secret. Like, somewhere that the fucked up rearrangement algorithm of this place would keep totally hidden unless you had, like, a key or the secret password.”

Their voices fall again, and sleep is pulling you back under, the kiss of the sun on your cheeks. You drift in and out for a while, but when you finally fully wake, you find yourself wrapped in warmth, cushioned on the sofa in WinWin’s arms. 

He’s spooning you, face tucked against your hair, arms twined around you. His heart thuds against your back, but you can tell he’s not asleep. Mark sits across the room, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading a book by firelight. The sky outside is caught in the range of twilight, dim with heavy night falling fast. 

As nice as it feels to lie here wrapped in WinWin, there’s a conclusion that you came to while you napped. You need to find Ten and Yuta, and you need to get out of here with them. Leaving sooner rather than later is ideal, especially after how today has gone. The chasing and threatening of Mark. The trial of your abilities by the Watchers. Their obvious dislike for Mark and WinWin both, while being apparently fascinated by you. You don’t like any part of this, and you want to find your demon boyfriends and get the fuck out as soon as you can. 

After overhearing Mark and WinWin while you were supposed to be sleeping, your drowsing mind had done some thinking. 

If you can find the dungeon, if you can locate Yuta and Ten, maybe you can teleport them out of here. You can get all of you out of this House, you can jump back through that pond in the forest, and you can run from it all, run from the Watchers and the trial and everything. 

You don’t really want to just do research anymore. You want to break your boyfriends free. 

So you bring that up right then, while WinWin hugs you a little tighter, while Mark looks up at you from over the edge of his book. “Let’s break them out,” you suggest. “Tonight.”

WinWin snorts. “Good idea, princess. And I’d be fully on board if we had even the slightest idea of where the hell we’re supposed to find them. We don’t know where they’re being held, do we? Mark and I have been theorizing, and we don’t know. And even if we did know, how are we supposed to find it? Everything in this House is confusing and constantly moving. Getting to them feels impossible, but even if we did get to Ten and Yuta, then how do you expect us to be able to get out of here without being caught? Do you think the Watchers don’t have measures in place for eventualities like that?”

He’s right. They probably do. 

“But there must be something we can do?” You slip flat onto your back, staring up at the ceiling in here, which you’ve not yet realized it was so intricate until now. It’s crisscrossed with painted vines and flowers, some birds and butterflies tucked in between. “Don’t you think they’ve probably got a record, somewhere in that massive library, of where they keep their prisoners, and how the place is guarded?”

WinWin sighs, lowering his forehead to rest against the side of your head. “Do you want to go to the library? Do you want to look all night, will that make you feel better?”

“It’s got to be better than doing nothing!” You slide away from him and then sit up. “I don’t want to be here anymore, but we can’t just leave without actually trying to help get Yuta and Ten out of there.”

Mark snaps shut the book in his hands. “So we’re taking a night trip to the library?” He sits the book aside, “What are we waiting for?”

Truly, you’re hardly even surprised when halfway to the library, your stomach begins growling. Your last meal had been hours and hours ago, and you can still feel the effects of exhaustion from using so much power for all those hours this morning. 

“Detour to the kitchen?” WinWin asks, his voice teasing and light. “I’m sure Miss Boa will have something for you.”

Mark, who you’d made sure to tell all about the kitchen adventure after you returned to your rooms the day before, agrees to a kitchen detour. 

It takes a little bit of attempting to navigate and then mostly relying on WinWin’s nose to get you there, but soon enough you’re spit out into the hallway that holds the kitchen. The doors swing open easily enough when you step inside, Mark and WinWin following behind you. Only a few elves are working, kneading bread and working over the large fire. It looks just as cozy and smells just as comforting in here as it had before, and it takes only a few seconds before Boa appears. 

Her face breaks into a smile. “Look who’s back. And you’ve brought your friend now.” She doesn’t hesitate to welcome your trio to the back of the kitchen, fussing somewhat like a mother hen when she hears your stomach loudly grumble. “Take a seat, take a seat,” she says, fanning you through the kitchen towards the dim corner where the tables are. 

The kitchen isn’t nearly as bright as it had been on your first visit. The fire isn’t burning nearly as high and there’s no sunlight to pour through the windows, but even so, you can make out the shape of someone already sitting at the tables. At first glance you assume it’s the ancient elf still, but as you draw closer you realize that you are wrong. It’s not an elderly elf sitting there, but rather a young one.

“Renjun!” You slide down into a seat at his table before anyone can object. He looks up, first at Mark, then WinWin, before his gaze settles on you. A light smile rises to his lips. 

Mark sits beside you, offering Renjun a smile. You suppose maybe he’s decided that Renjun isn’t so bad after all. WinWin, however, harrumphs a little and still shows Renjun a cold shoulder as he takes a seat as well. Boa returns to the table, bringing still-warm bits from dinner, some wine, some pastries. Renjun’s already picking at a plate, which he returns to while you and WinWin serve yourselves from what Boa has brought over. She excuses herself after dropping off enough food to feed you all more than enough, and she returns to her cooking duties, and Mark watches as all of you eat in silence. 

Mark can’t seem to stand the silence, so after a moment he begins talking, and in his talking, he tells Renjun about your plan to visit the library. He doesn’t tell him exactly what you all are looking for, and Renjun doesn’t ask, but he does however agree to help you three find your way to the library. 

“It’s better to go around this hour, or any time through the night. The novices, they don’t visit much after dark. They’ve got other Watcher lessons then, like astronomy and stuff.” He pops a cherry into his mouth, then says, “So there shouldn’t be anyone there to harass you this time.”

WinWin doesn’t seem to like the idea much of Renjun tagging along, but you point out to him that it’ll be much faster to have Renjun guide you through this House that he clearly knows well, than for the three of you to wander the halls aimlessly until you happen upon it. So, after you’ve eaten your fill, Renjun leads the way out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to Boa on the way. 

The library, as well as the hallways on the way there, is dark. Night has fully settled in around the House, and although some of the windows offer you different views, it’s dark in all of them. The library at least has orb-lights at the ends of the rows and at each of the little study tables to provide enough light to see by. The rows of bookshelves appear entirely empty, as if all of the Watchers have disappeared for the night, not that you mind. 

You all divide to look through the shelves, similar to the day before, though this time there’s no stalker Watcher lingering in the aisle with you as you search, and this time WinWin allows you to put at least an aisle between you and him, though you know he’s keeping an eye on Renjun, not trusting him enough to let him out of his sight while you’re freely wandering. You end up with a stack of books once more, and when you bring them to a table to begin flipping through them, Mark and Renjun are already sitting there, poring over the books. 

“They guard their secrets well,” Renjun is telling Mark when you arrive. “But I’m sure there are records of past trials, Watcher laws and mandates, and all that sort of stuff here somewhere. I’ll be back.” He flits away from the table, darting towards a winding, narrow staircase that leads up to the second level. 

WinWin joins the table after a few more minutes with his own stack of books as well as a couple rolls of parchment, all of which he spreads out at one end of the table and begins to quietly peruse. This is how the next couple hours pass, filled with the silent turning of pages, the occasional scribble as one of you finds something interesting to jot down on the bits of note paper that are provided on the table. Renjun returns occasionally to drop off something new, never lingering long, and you’re fairly certain it’s because WinWin glares at him each time. 

You’re not exactly sure how much Renjun knows about what you’re looking for. You don’t know if Mark told him the truth, a partial truth, or if he just drew his own conclusions about what the three of you are trying to find here in the library, but you appreciate his help regardless.

On the few occasions that the doors of the library do open through the night, Renjun makes himself scarce, and you wonder what his personal aversion to the Watchers is. You understand because you hate the way that they look at Mark and WinWin, the things they say, and how they look at you too, especially after the impromptu showcase you’d given the High Watcher this morning. Luckily, no one bothers you three in the library, and you ignore all of them anyway, too intent on your research to care about what’s going on around you. Surely, somewhere in all of this vast repository of knowledge, there’s some record of where you might be able to find where the Watchers keep their prisoners. 

Mark seems to be looking mostly at trials through history, WinWin’s books and scrolls cover a little bit of everything. You’re mainly focusing on the architecture of the House, mixed in with other historical tidbits. None of you seem to be making much progress as the night goes on.

At one point, when both Mark and Renjun are away, WinWin sighs loudly and lays his head down on the book he’d been flipping idly through. He doesn’t lift his head, but he does turn his head so he’s looking at you. His eyes glitter in the low light. 

You lay a hand on his cheek, and WinWin’s eyes flutter shut with an exhale. 

“I’m tired,” he admits. 

“Then sleep. We’ll wake you when we leave,” you tell him, but WinWin shakes his head. “Do you want to go back to our room?”

That makes him crack an eyelid to take a look at you. A small grin starts to form. “Will you come with me?” One of his hands slips down from the table to rest on your knee. “You know, I’ve found I sleep much better when you’re there beside me.” 

It’s a weak attempt, but it makes your belly flutter a bit. “I’m trying to research, Win.”

He sighs and turns his head just enough that he can brush his lips along your wrist. You slide your hand away from his cheek, fingers curving over his neck instead while he smiles softly at you. “Mark and that guy will still be here. We can return in the morning. But I wanna sleep, and I wanna sleep with you.”

“Oh, okay, this was a weird point to come back to,” Mark grumbles as he appears from nowhere to drop into the seat across from you. 

You pull yourself away from WinWin who sits upright, but he keeps his hand on your knee beneath the table. It’s distracting, really. Even once WinWin has turned his attention back to the texts in front of him, once Mark is thumping open a dusty, heavy book, you can’t bring yourself to focus on the words in front of you anymore. It’s some boring diary of a Watcher who studied architecture, and although you’d thought it seemed promising when you pulled it from the shelf earlier, it mostly seemed to be him talking about minor details and how to make new, modern additions — such as a refrigerator in the kitchen. He did, at least, write about the shifting windows, explaining it as some Watcher magic to be able to look out into the human world, to keep an eye on things. 

It’s not long before your eyes are drooping, head bobbing as you dip off to sleep for seconds at a time. Mark notices first, before anyone else at the table, and his foot nudges your leg beneath the table. 

Your head snaps up, and you blink until the world isn’t so hazy anymore. Mark’s eyes are wide, dark in the dim library lighting, just as soft as his affectionate smile. “Why don’t you and WinWin go back to the rooms, go to sleep?” Mark suggests.  “Renjun and I can stay up a bit longer.”

Renjun sits brightly at the end of the table, looking totally refreshed and awake, smiling a bit when he looks up at you. “I’ll make sure that Mark gets safely back to you. We’ll take secret passages and the like so no bully Watchers try anything,” he promises. 

That’s good enough for you. You nod, agreeing to go. You could definitely fall asleep right now if you laid your head down on the table. 

“Let’s go,” WinWin says as he pushes his chair back from the table. His warm hand takes hold of yours, swallowing your hand in his to pull you from your seat before you can change your mind about going. WinWin doesn’t let go of your hand, not once you’re on your feet, not when you’re leaving the library, and not at any point after that. He simply holds your hand and strolls with you through the candlelit or moonlit corridors. You pass by Watcher night classes, by a wood paneled room where it seems several of the black cloaked Watchers are having a meeting, by a disturbingly accurate and life-sized portrait of the High Watcher that looks so realistic in the moonlight that you swear his eyes move, by a room with a closed door that you can hear metallic clashing and thumping sounds that really make you want to take a peek inside, but WinWin pulls you away.��

You find it surprisingly easy for you and WinWin to navigate your way back to your rooms. Soon enough, you’re walking along the hallway that meets the top of the spiral stairs, the door to the common room right there. As soon as you’ve stepped over the threshold, your drowsiness returns in full force. 

“Come to bed,” WinWin singsongs, tugging lightly at your hand to bring you through the door of the yellow bedroom. You follow. You pull your outfit off in pieces until you’re clambering into the bed in nothing more than your underwear. A moment later, WinWin climbs in on the other side, the heat of his bare skin meeting yours. 

He hesitates to touch you more than just a simple brush of limbs beneath the sheets. 

You sigh, reaching over, and you pull his arm around you as you scoot closer. There’s a dip in the mattress that pulls you fully against him, not that you’re complaining. It feels nice to be so skin-to-skin with him, just the barest thinnest layers of clothing preventing every inch of you from being in contact. 

“Tomorrow,” WinWin promises with his lips against your hair. “Tomorrow we’ll find them, I’m sure of it. Then we’ll get the hell out of here and go home, all five of us.”

You press your cheek to WinWin’s chest, over his steadily beating heart which beats a little faster with your breath making condensation against his skin. “I hope you’re right, WinWin.”

He kisses your head, wraps his arms a little tighter around you, and slowly you let your drowsiness overwhelm you at last. 

The windows in the morning fill with bright sunlight. It paints the insides of your eyelids the color of honey and amber, kisses your lips and wraps you in its warmth. You’re reluctant to open your eyes, not wanting to break the cozy spell you’re in, don’t want to ruin the moment. But it’s the sudden sound of a voice outside the yellow bedroom’s door that does it. 

Your eyes snap open. 

WinWin groans. 

His hand presses flat against your belly, dragging you back towards him. His forehead nudges your shoulder. “Don’t move. Let’s stay for a little longer.” His lips touch at your bare skin. “You disappeared on me yesterday morning, don’t you think you should stay with me just a few moments longer?”

You stay, but it’s not because of his persuasive skills. 

You swear you can hear distant birdsong. There’s the closer sound of a voice speaking out in the common room, and it’s Mark’s familiar tone, and although you wonder why he’s out there talking, the subtle heat of the sunrise pairs nicely with the less-subtle heat and press of WinWin’s body at your back. 

 You stay like that until you become aware of the vital need to relieve yourself — just a small nuisance one moment, and then all you can think about the next. WinWin whines when you first try to push his arm away so you can get up. He holds you closer. 

“Stay,” he sleepily pleads. 

“If you don’t let me up, I’m going to piss on you,” you hiss, struggling to push away his iron grip. 

WinWin lets you go, but as you scurry over to the en-suite bathroom, WinWin calls out, “Was that a threat or a promise, princess?”

You only glare at him over your shoulder before closing the bathroom door, his laughter sounding from the bed.

When you re-emerge from the bathroom a few moments later, WinWin is sitting up on the edge of the bed, his arms stretched above his head as he twists from side to side to crack his back and stretch his muscles after sleep. You stand captivated, watching the way his muscles move, the way the sunlight runs along his spine. WinWin tilts his head, and it takes you far too long to realize that he’s watching you watching him. 

He’s on his feet in an instant, crossing the room in long strides to stand in front of you. WinWin cups your cheeks in his hands, tipping your chin up. “You look so pretty this morning,” he says softly, his eyes molten amber in the sunlight, melting against yours. “Cute when you’re flustered.”

You let your gaze drop. “What makes you think I’m flustered?”

His fingers brush over your cheeks, heat rising to meet his touch. He doesn’t answer your question aloud, but he does step away from you and gesture towards the door. “Why don’t we go see if Mark found any answers while we slept?”

You look away from WinWin, pushing down the wave of wanting that fills you right then. You want to hold his hand against your cheek a little longer. You want to lie in bed with him. You miss proximity and intimacy; you miss that warm glow of being in love, the sensation of feeling full in a way that you haven’t felt since Ten sent you away on that Hell City street. With WinWin, you’re starting to feel that cold spot start to warm up again, each day allowing yourself a little closer to him.

WinWin walks ahead of you, swinging open the bedroom door to the common room. 

Mark lifts his head, a smile already on his lips. And beside him, perched on the edge of the window seat, is Renjun. WinWin immediately tenses up, stepping in front of you to block you. A growl rumbles from his chest. 

“What’s he doing here?”

“I let him in,” Mark says plainly. “We’ve been—”

“You let him in?” WinWin interrupts, pulling away from you to stalk toward Renjun sitting in silvery sunlight on the bench seat. “This is meant to be a safe place, Mark, do you not remember what we’ve discussed before?”

You step around WinWin, leaving the doorway behind you. 

Mark shrugs. “I remember. I don’t think it applies to him.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” WinWin is all tense, muscles wound tight. “We’ve been here for days now, and when have any of them shown us even an ounce of respect? We’ve seen a dozen examples of how much all of these damn Watchers hate us. They are rude, violent, watching us and just waiting for the chance to pounce.” His eyes flare as he stares at Renjun. “Even after your High Watcher welcomed us, they’ve all been dicks.”

Renjun stares back with a flinty look in his eye. “He’s not my High Watcher. I’m not a Watcher, not really.” 

WinWin snorts derisively. “You live here, don’t you? That makes you one of them.”

“I think you’ll find it doesn’t.” Renjun’s eyes change colors, pulsing between hazel and silver, flickering back and forth for a moment. “They dislike me just as much as you, but they keep me here to keep a close eye on me.”

Again, WinWin opens his mouth with a retort sharp on his tongue, but Mark interjects. 

“I think he can help us.” Mark lifts himself from his seat, stepping in front of WinWin to stare the werewolf in the eye. “If you would shut the fuck up for a second, maybe hear him out, you might agree with me for once.” Mark pushes at WinWin’s shoulders, propelling him toward an open armchair, which he collapses into the moment the backs of his knees make contact. 

You walk deeper into the room, settling on one end of the cushy sofa Mark is sitting on. Renjun looks at you, a faint smile turning up the corners of his lips. His eyes settle, one left silver, one brown to match the two-tone color of his hair. You know that WinWin doesn’t like Renjun, and up until probably last night, you’re pretty sure that Mark didn’t like him either. But you like Renjun, you enjoy his company. He always seems nice enough, if a little odd.

“Tell them what you were telling me,” Mark says to Renjun. 

Renjun nods. “Well, like I said, I’m not really a Watcher. My father was a Watcher, so I was raised here and given an education by the Watchers. But they don’t want me to become one of them, and I don’t want to either. These people are so strict in their thinking, it’s like after thousands and thousands of years of policing the world, they’ve let the power go a little too much to their heads.” 

He takes a breath, and you can tell that he’s about to plunge into a story, like he’d done the previous day for you in the tapestry hall. “The history of the Watchers is vast. They’ve ended civilizations as easily as starting others. They sank Atlantis, relegating the merpeople of Earth to live beneath the sea after their relations with humans were growing too close. They unleashed diseases to wipe out a village of magic-makers a few hundred years ago. They’ve basically forced all supernatural beings to live in just your Hell City, partially out of convenience so it’s easier to keep an eye on you all, but also as a way to suppress your people. Originally, God intended the city to be a safe haven for the supernatural, but He didn’t consider that it could just as easily become a prison with the Watchers as the wardens. They abuse their power. I’ve been a witness to that here, in the way that they force the elves here in Purgatory to do labor for them, imprisoning them for decades if they refuse.”

WinWin silently watches Renjun, his eyes fixed on the elfin man, watching his face closely for any signs of this story all being a lie. 

Renjun continues, ignoring WinWin’s scrutiny. “They’re not all bad. The Watchers. But for every good Watcher that would help you to your feet when you’re down, there are ten more that would knock you back flat on your ass. For every one that sees the value of a life inside of us all, there are a dozen that just sees a monster to be put in its place. My father, was a Watcher, and I like to think he was one of the good ones. In some regards he definitely was, I mean, he fell in love with my mother.”

You’ve been curious about Renjun’s story since that first morning, and you sit up a little straighter, full of anticipation to finally hear it. 

“My mother was an elf from a small village deep in the mountains and far to the north in your world. My father and a few other Watchers were sent to demand labor when God finally created the separation between Earth and Purgatory. You don’t get a place as extravagant, ever-changing, and indefinitely growing as this House without a little indentured servitude, and the elves were being brought in to Purgatory on the belief that they would receive the protection of the Watchers, would be received here in safety from those that would destroy them in your world—the humans hungrily encroaching on their territory, the supernatural creatures that ran to the mountain ranges to hide and thought that slaughtering elven villages was a good idea. So the elves, including my mother, were promised safety here in Purgatory for labor, freedom from the monsters.

“Of course it wasn’t long before many of them grew to understand there are monsters here as well.” Renjun’s hands ball into fists, and he draws his feet up onto the bench seat, making himself appear very small as he wraps his arms around his legs, his knees against his chest. “The Watchers quickly showed their lack of empathy for the plights of the elves. Elves are strong and immortal, but we have our limits. Working endless stretches of hours for days on end, performing manual labor to quarry stone for this house or forging iron railings or imbibing hot glass with magic. The Watchers were demanding, unrelenting. They beat those that attempted to take a break, and it was very quickly apparent that coming here had been a mistake.” 

“Why didn’t they leave?” You ask, finding your voice. 

Mark glances over at you. “How could they? I’m sure the Watchers had a tight hold on them, always working them or watching them.”

Renjun nods. “Some of them had easier jobs than others, some of them were just happy to live in ignorant bliss of how they were being wronged by the Watchers. Millenias passed, and each day the elves grew a little more broken down, a little more crushed beneath the heavy boot of the Watchers. Until finally, a few of them did escape, though. They broke free, slipping away in the night, and running as fast as they could through the forest. Elves are faster than any Watcher. They weren’t even sure they were being pursued, but they ran until they came upon a clearing, a pond perfectly centered in it. Back then, that’s all it was. Just a pond, shallow with a muddy bottom and roots. But elves have magic, powerful magic, and in a great moment of need, they can do amazing things. The four escaped elves pooled their magic, and they opened a portal back into the world they had once known. They emerged in your Hell City, which was a nightmare and a blessing in equal measure. Suddenly they were surrounded by all of the creatures they had fled this world to escape, but also they were in a city full of beings that hated the Watchers. Somehow, this feared place was a safe haven, offering safety in sheer numbers, and the elves went into hiding in the city. 

“My mother was among them, in case you couldn’t figure that out from me having all of these details,” Renjun says, “and my father was one of the Watchers sent out to hunt down the escaped elves and return them. You can’t break an indenture, you know. So my father hunted through your Hell City, high and low for any sign of the elves. He had more reason than the other Watchers to find them. He was looking for her.”

Outside the common room’s door, you hear voices rising up the stairwell, a group of them. Renjun freezes, shrinking even more into himself, staring at the door in clearly-felt fear. A group of Watchers climbs up the spiral stair, approaching this room, and you all sit in quiet, waiting to see if they’re coming here. 

Their voices luckily pass the room, continuing on through the space out there, down along the hallway that curves out of sight. Renjun sighs, resting his forehead on his knees. 

“My mother never told me exactly how or when my father and her fell in love, but it was while she was here in Purgatory, and she insisted that it was love. It wasn’t forced on either end, it wasn’t an arrangement made out of proximity or convenience. They fell in love in the middle of all of that, and she discovered at some point shortly before the escape, that she was pregnant. She had only just told my father the morning before she and the other elves made their escape. So when he came into the world, he wasn’t searching for escaped indentured elves, he was searching for the elven woman he loved and me.”

“Sounds like a fairytale,” WinWin remarks quietly, a tone of bitterness in his voice. “Or a story I’ve heard before. How do we know you’re not making all of this up?”

Renjun’s gaze turns sharp, directed exclusively at WinWin. “Why would I be lying about this?”

WinWin shrugs. “To win our trust.”

“Stop it. Let him finish.” You reach over, knocking your hand against WinWin’s arm. 

Renjun continues after a moment, saying, “When he found us, it was months later. The elves had spent over half a year hiding in Hell City. I had just been born. My father said he found us based off a paternal guidance, a Watcher’s knowledge meeting a father’s intuition. For months afterwards, he misdirected the attentions of the Watchers, steering them far away from us, hinting at rumors that the escaped elves had fled the city to return to their mountain villages. All the while, he would visit as frequently as he could, doting on me, caring for us. 

“But Watchers take a vow of celibacy and a vow of antifraternization. Of course, the celibacy vow is broken semi-regularly by Watchers. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of gods and angels and aliens coming down from the heavens to have relations with human women and men, sometimes even producing offspring? That’s one thing, when it’s only human, when the child produced is only human. The tales of demigods are exaggerated, wishful thinking of the mothers. But a Watcher and an elf? That hadn’t happened before in all the recorded Watchings of history. I was special.”

At that, Renjun grins a little cocky and pleased. Mark laughs, you smile, and WinWin just rolls his eyes. But Renjun continues with his story. 

“Watchers don’t fall in love. They don’t have families, even when they do happen to procreate. They certainly don’t fall in love, have a baby, and want to create a family with an elf of all things in the goddamned world. His absences from Purgatory began to become noticeable. Stretches of time where he couldn’t be accounted for. Half-caught glimpses of him by the other Watchers who oversee Hell City. Eventually, it was all put together. 

“The Watchers came for us when I was three years old. They imprisoned my mother, imprisoned my father, and they took me in as a ward. I was an oddity to the Watchers. Half-elven, half-Watcher. They had to keep a very close eye on me to make sure that I didn’t slip away through a mirror portal or appear as a divine baby to a congregation of humans on earth. Apparently I did slip away quite a few times, always found in the dungeons visiting my parents, somehow slipped inside their cells despite the wardings on the bars. The blend of powers inside me was giving them surprises. The encouragement of both my mother and my father only made it worse for the Watchers. They would find me in the cells early in the mornings, after I’d been in there all night, learning elven magic from my mother or being whispered the secrets of the Watchers by my father. Eventually, one of the Watchers figured out a warding so powerful that it could actually keep me out of the dungeons entirely, cutting off my access to my parents.”

“And where are they now?” You ask. “Still down there?”

The slump of Renjun’s shoulders answers your question first. He shakes his head. “No. To the Watchers, there are only two results in a trial: innocence, which means life, or guilt, which means imminent death and destruction. My parents received their guilt sentences when I was five years old. My father was stripped of his rights as a Watcher, and the expulsion from the order crippled him until he was but a shadow. Literally. I was forced to watch,” Renjun says, his voice taking on a hollow tone, and his eyes fall into shadow. “My mother’s death was quick, my father’s was long. He withered, fading from existence, writhing in pain. That is how a Watcher dies, stripped of immortality.”

Empty silence reigns for a few moments. Even the fire in the fireplace doesn’t make a sound. Raindrops that spray against one of the windows only run silently down the glass. Eventually Renjun sighs and picks up his story again. 

“After that, the Watchers kept me under tight surveillance. They kept me away from the elves in the kitchen for as long as they could. They took on my education, I think in an attempt to brainwash me into blind loyalty. But they had killed my parents. I wasn’t likely to forget that. They hated me for being different, but their curiosity is what has kept me alive. They’ve studied me all these years, like a specimen that they would gladly dissect and tear apart at the first opportunity. They don’t get the chance to study half-breeds like me very often. In all of history, there have only been a handful of people that are half-Watcher and half-supernatural. The human ones hold little interest anymore. I only know a little bit about the halfbreed history, since the Watchers don’t talk about it much, preferring for me to believe I’m alone, just a freak or an oddity. 

“So, all of that whole long story is just to say: you should trust me. I have no loyalty holding me to the Watchers. I’m a prisoner here only slightly less than your friends in the dungeon are. So, do you trust me?”

This last question Renjun directs to WinWin, the pair of them staring each other down. You and Mark exchange a look, both of you wondering what WinWin’s answer will be. The silence stretches, uncomfortable and awkward once it hits the one minute point. Mark fidgets in his seat, opening his mouth after a while to say something, but WinWin beats him to it. 

“Can you show us to the dungeon? Even if you can’t get inside?” WinWin asks. 

Renjun nods quickly. “Yes. That’s something that Mark and I were just talking about. If you’d told me before that the dungeons are what you were looking for, I could’ve taken you there last night instead of wasting time in the library. The warding against me was lifted after my parents were sentenced. But the entrance to the dungeon is tricky. I’m sure you’ve noticed that things tend to move here. Hallways and staircases and all that. The rooms stay constantly in their set hallways, as do the tapestries and statues. But the entrance to the dungeon is a bit different. It’s hidden for good reason, and because it’s hidden so well, it often moves locations around the House.”

Mark nods, then says, “Just like we suspected. Why wouldn’t they hide it in an even more complicated way than the rest of this house hides its secrets?”

Renjun looks at him, then WinWin, and finally at you. “It is hidden, but it’s actually not all that difficult to find. They have the doorway hidden behind a life-sized portrait of the High Watcher.”

Simultaneously, you and WinWin turn to look at each other. He’d just seen that portrait on your way back from the library. You’d both passed right by it, unwittingly missing Ten and Yuta by meters. 

“We saw that. Just last night.” WinWin stands up. “Will it still be there?”

Renjun shakes his head. “No. The house is rearranging constantly. On average things move once a day, but some of the more, um, secure areas move probably every hour or two. Some sections of the house stay more constant, like the entrance hall with the banquet hall and the solarium. Those have only changed once in my time here, just like the staircase outside here. If things changed up too much it would confuse everyone. But there is a pattern to the madness though. Wait long enough, days or weeks maybe, and something will be right back to where you first saw it. Sometimes things will move to the opposite side of this place or just shift one hallway over. The House has many secrets, and I’ve been working hard these last twenty years to uncover all of them.”

“So are you saying we have to wait days or weeks to find the entrance again, or can you show us to it?” WinWin growls, his irritation resurfacing. “We have just two days before they go to trial. We still don’t even know what they’ve done. What damn good are you if all you can do is dangle a little hope in front of us before ripping it away?”

“WinWin,” you keep your voice low. “Go cool off. He’s helping us, so stop jumping down his throat.” 

WinWin turns his hot stare towards you, softening the moment his eyes meet yours. “Don’t you want answers? They’re your boyfriends.”

Of course you want answers, and Renjun is offering the answers to you. You just have to be a little patient. “Go cool off,” you repeat.

WinWin stands, stalking over towards the closed door of the unused blue bedroom. 

“I wouldn’t use that one if I were you,” Renjun calls in warning as WinWin’s hand touches the doorknob. “Mirrors have powers here. Those are Watcher mirrors filling that room, so you never know what’s going to come in through them or get pulled out through them. Or who’s listening or watching on the other side. I would advise keeping that door closed at all times while you’re here.” 

WinWin turns on his heel, crossing the common room back to the yellow room you’d slept in last night, but he freezes in the doorway, turning back to look at the three of you. He hooks his thumb back over his shoulder. “What about the mirror in here?”

Renjun shrugs. “I don’t trust any of the mirrors in this place.”

WinWin steps back, snapping that door shut, and he walks over to the open doorway of the green room. You watch as WinWin looks around cautiously from the doorway, then he takes a step inside, looking around some more, and finally satisfied that the green room has no mirrors, he walks inside and disappears into the tiny en-suite bathroom.

As soon as WinWin is gone, Renjun sighs, unfolding himself from the tight knot that he’s worked himself into while telling his story. “So, to answer his question, it won’t be weeks or days. I do have an approximation of where the entrance probably is right now, where it’ll be tomorrow at various points throughout the day. But, I also know that with the three of you here, they’ve got guards stationed everywhere. There’s one that pretty much follows you lot every time you leave these rooms, and he would definitely stop you before you could reach the dungeon entrance. You wouldn’t stand a chance at getting in to even see or speak to those demons, let alone break them out or whatever you intend to do.”

“I just want to see them! I want to talk to them. I know breaking them out has got to be nearly impossible, but just getting the chance to be with them before their trial? There must be something we can do.” You stand up, unable to sit still right now. Not now that you know what the entrance to the dungeon looks like. You want to leave this common room, to search the entire House for it, and damn the Watchers who would try to stop you. 

Renjun and Mark both watch you pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. 

After a while, Mark finally sighs and looks at Renjun. “You can get her to the dungeon right? Even with that Watcher that follows us everywhere, if he was taken care of, could you get her inside? Down to see Yuta and Ten?”

Taken care of, he says, and those words make your blood run cold. In what way would he take care of them? Sometimes it’s so easy for you to forget who Mark is, that he’s the boss of a whole coven, the operator of a dozen different underground establishments of Hell City. You know he’s probably had to take care of problem-people before, but you’ve never really thought about it. The idea of what he might be thinking of doing to this Watcher admittedly scares you.

Renjun nods, a slow grin growing on his lips. “Yeah, I probably could. What are you thinking?” 

The next day, the plan rolls into motion. 

You, WinWin, Mark, and Renjun have gone over the risks of your plan, such as the potential consequences of getting caught sneaking down to the dungeon cells. The rest of the previous day was spent sequestered in the common room, only once did Mark and Renjun make an excursion to the kitchen to fetch food back to the common room, and then you and WinWin had gone down to supper in the Banquet hall when the bell rang to signal the meal. The stalker Watcher had been sitting out there each time that any of you departed, and he’d followed until you returned to the common room. Every other moment of yesterday had been spent sharing hushed plans and arrangements for today. 

Renjun had everything planned out to the minute. He knew exactly where the portrait of the High Watcher that acts as a hidden entrance to the dungeons will be, and he knows exactly where the dungeon will spit you back out when your time is up and the portrait has moved location. You avoid listening to the detailed parts of the plan that involve WinWin and Mark dispatching the stalker Watcher.

For half the night, you couldn’t sleep. 

In part, the restlessness was due to the whispered sounds carrying into the bedroom from Mark and Renjun out in the common room, running over the plan aloud between themselves, again and again. Also, your mind refused to let you relax, stressed and excited in equal measure about the plan, and the most important part, which was finally getting to see Yuta and Ten again. 

You spend a while envisioning scenarios of the moment you’ll see them again. Your chest aches, your fingers itching to touch them, to smell their fiery brimstone scent, to see the flames burning in Yuta’s eyes, Ten’s wickedly charming grin. You miss the sounds of their voices, their laughter. You miss all of their silly little habits, even ones that had somewhat irritated you before. So, for at least an hour or two, you imagine scenarios of finding them again, before those scenarios start to shrink from bright and happy to the darker side of your worries.

So, instead, you turn to WinWin. You spend a good portion of your sleepless hours lying there in the bed watching him sleep – the soft motion of his eyes beneath his eyelids, his lips parting to breathe out quiet sleepy sounds. 

After Mark falls silent since Renjun has probably left for the night, and after watching WinWin begins to feel more creepy than anything else, you tuck yourself with your back against WinWin’s chest. He makes a little hum, squeezing his arms around you so you feel secure and safe against him. Lying with him like this reminds you of your nights together during his rut, of those few hours when he’d not been overwhelmingly horny, when you’d been locked together by his knot, cuddling and dozing. 

At some point, you fall asleep. 

The sun hasn’t yet risen when you wake up. In the predawn darkness of the green bedroom, you can’t see anything. Even the firelight in the common room is extinguished. All you know is the feeling of WinWin warm all around you. 

Specifically, you feel his lips resting against the side of your neck.

“What are you doing?” You sleepily mumble, lifting a hand to uselessly flutter your fingers over WinWin’s hair, his head bowed over you.

“Just allow me this,” he replies, sponging another kiss a little higher on your throat. “Mark and I are going to war for you today.”

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“Is it?” His lips touch your jaw. “Who knows what might happen?”

You hate the truth behind his words. None of you really know what might happen. To what lengths will the Watchers go to punish such an infraction if you’re caught sneaking to the dungeon? Or if Mark and WinWin taking care of – or distracting – the stalker Watcher goes badly?

“I need you both to be careful.” You twist around in WinWin’s arms, tugging at his hair lightly so he pulls his lips away from your skin. 

He blinks slowly down at you, his gaze lowering to your lips. “If I promise you we’ll be careful, can I get a kiss?”

You push a hand against his chest, but you don’t pull it away and WinWin doesn’t budge from over you. He smiles, still looking at your lips, waiting. You sigh, “I want both of you to be careful, WinWin, please. Keep an eye on Mark. The Watchers hate him more than anyone else. Don’t let him get carried away with whatever you’re planning, okay?”

WinWin groans playfully, lowering his forehead to your shoulder. “Now you’re just taking all the fun out of it. But, sure, I’ll make sure Mark stays in one whole piece so you can keep playing with him.”

“I’m not playing with Mark.” You roll your eyes, pushing again uselessly at WinWin’s chest. 

“Okay, sure. I’m not blind, I see the way he looks at you, the way you’ve been all moon-eyed over him lately too.” He huffs out a heavy breath, his voice muted as he says, “But I’ll return him in one piece for you.” 

You rake your fingers through WinWin’s hair with a sound of frustration until he lifts his head. “Win,” you say, holding eye contact, imploring him, “You come back in one piece, too.”

WinWin dips his head, kissing your cheek. “I promise.”

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, pressing your fingertips just enough that he gets the message, shifting his lips from your cheek to your mouth.

This kiss is slow, tender with all of the emotions and the need for today to go right. WinWin props himself above you. You stroke your fingers lightly over the side of his face and down his neck, over his bare shoulder. His heart pounds beneath your touch. His full bare body presses against yours, and if you weren’t still wound up with the stress of the coming day, approaching quicker with each rising degree of the sun outside, maybe you would finally give in and take this a little further once again.

But then you think of Ten and Yuta, down in the dungeons. 

You think of Mark probably still out there in the common room. 

WinWin tries to dip back in when you pull away from the kiss. You allow him one more peck, and then you’re sliding out from beneath him, leaving the bed to wrap your arms around yourself as you face the sunrise. 

The old bed frame creaks beneath WinWin. “Everything will be okay. We’ve planned. Renjun knows this place better than anyone else, probably,” he says, lifting himself up after you. His hands are warm when he places them on your hips, drawing your bodies close again. “Can you promise me, too? That you’ll be careful?”

“It’s not the same, WinWin.” 

He rests his chin on top of your head. “Just promise me.”

You tilt your head back, sighing, “I promise. I’ll get myself out of there if anything goes wrong. Teleport or burn my way out.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head, and then he’s gone, walking away towards the bathroom. “You can join me in the shower, if you want. That kiss felt a little… hungry.” He’s teasing, grinning at you. 

“Go away, oh my God,” you groan in embarrassment. You turn back to face the window, feeling your face heat up. 

WinWin just laughs, and you watch him walk away in the reflection. In the rising sunlight, all of his bare skin reflects just fine in the glass. The bathroom door closes behind him, and you focus on the image of the world beyond the reflection. This morning it’s the Parisian garden you’d first seen from the empty ballroom. Your eyes follow the curling paths, the swirls of colorful flowers in full bloom, the arcs of sunlight catching on fountains. 

And then you catch sight of a face in the window’s reflection.  

You spin around, summoning your fire to your fingertips already.

“Hold your fire,” Mark says, lifting his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“Sorry.” You lower your hands, extinguishing your flame. “I’m just on edge.”

Mark comes deeper into the room, slowly approaching you like he’s a little worried that you might snap on him. “That’s reasonable… to be jumpy. Are you ready?” He comes to stand beside you, his arm touching yours. His hand bumps against yours, and you feel a spark jump between your hand and his, a little shock that startles you both. 

That little shock becomes a full pulse of energy when Mark suddenly takes your hand, holding it in both of his. Mark doesn’t say anything, just holding onto your hand, looking into your eyes. You get it, even without him saying anything. He’s worrying for you, worrying for himself, worrying for how this day is going to go. 

“Do you remember what I told you? When we were about to come through the Fountain of the Watchers?” His hands feel warm against yours, as if he’s been holding his palm to the flames out in the common room’s fireplace. “If anything feels too dangerous, like it’s going wrong, you can teleport. You can get yourself out of here. That’s what is most important.”

“Mark, I’ll be fine. You two will be fine.” You smile reassuringly at him. “Today is going to go splendidly. You know the plan. Think a little positive for me.”

He pulls one hand away from holding yours, and when he lifts it to your shoulder, his breath coming out an uncertain sigh, your heart jolts in your chest. Mark’s hand slides over your shoulder, fingertips light against the back of your neck before dipping a little lower. He presses against your back, pulling you forward, and your heart thunders in anticipation. 

You expect a kiss.

Maybe that’s initially what Mark was going for, or maybe it wasn’t his plan at all.

Mark hugs you, his cheek resting against your head. 

You breathe in as your nose is pressed to his shirt. This is the thing about Mark. He might be undead, surviving off of blood, typically cold to the touch, but he always smells so nice and warm. Like clean cotton and orange blossom.  He crushes you against him in this hug, and you wrap your arms around his waist, gripping his shirt at his lower back so you’re both pressed as tightly together as you can be.

Their worries are totally unwarranted, you’re sure. You and Renjun are going to be out of danger, just down visiting the dungeon cells. Your worry for WinWin and Mark makes sense. Renjun has made it glaringly obvious to the three of you that the Watchers, though they are High Holy beings of the supernatural variety, have a deep-seated contempt and sense of superiority over all other supernatural beings. Mark and WinWin are going to be out there providing a distraction so the stalker Watcher stays out of the way for you and Renjun. But what if that Watcher – or any other, for that matter – decides to just attack the vampire and the werewolf like other Watchers have made it clear over the past couple days that they’re willing to do. 

It’s not that you don’t trust the High Watcher, but you don’t believe that the lower-level Watchers are going to necessarily stick to the request you made to the High Watcher that Mark and Winwin be left alone. If you’re not with them, how will you know the Watchers will keep their word? You know that you just told Mark to think positively, but suddenly, you find your mind swirling down a dark path of worry.

“I’ll promise you what I just promised WinWin a few minutes ago.” You lower your head, your mouth brushing the curve of Mark’s shoulder through the thin material of his shirt. “If I feel like anything is going wrong, if I’m in any danger, I’ll get myself out of there. Teleport or burn my way out. But you two keep each other safe, too, okay?”

Mark sighs softly, clutching you a little bit tighter. “I just hope we don’t all end up in cells before the day is over.”

“Think positive,” you remind him. 

Mark just holds you tighter. 

You wish this meant something. You like Mark just as much as you like the others. Like WinWin had pointed out earlier, you are playing with Mark a little bit, but it’s not intentional. You’re inviting him more than just playing with him; he’s the one that’s not accepting the invitation from you to come make this a little more than friendship. Like this hug, for example. He could have kissed you. You would have welcomed a kiss, but Mark went for the hug. 

It’s a comforting hug, for sure. You feel nice with his arms around you, safe and secure. You would happily stay there for a while longer, wrapped up in a hug with Mark, the sunlight warming you as it spreads even brighter through the room, but then there’s a knock on the common room’s door. 

Mark lets go of you, stepping away and turning his back quickly so you can’t see his face as he hurries out to open the door. You linger in the doorway of the green bedroom, watching Mark open the door out into the rest of the House.

Renjun stands outside, smiling brightly when he sees both of you. 

“Are we all ready?”

After WinWin emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, fresh and fully clothed, there’s nothing else left for the plan except for the perfect moment to commence. Due to the portrait of the High Watcher’s location, you have to wait for an exact moment to begin. If you’re too early you’ll draw the Watchers’ attention and this could all be over before it begins. If you’re just a little too late, the portrait will be in an entirely different location on the other side of the House.

Renjun watches an old mantelpiece clock that sits on one of the bookshelves in the common room, the hands ticking slowly around the clock, and the moment that the hands point out to being half past seven o’clock in the morning, the booming sound of the breakfast bell rings through the House. That’s the sign you’ve been waiting for. Renjun gets to his feet. He strides to the door of the common room, looking back at the three of you. You stand to follow.

WinWin grabs your hand. “Are you positive we can trust him?”

On your other side, Mark has stood up as well. He just brushes his hand against the small of your back before continuing around you to join Renjun at the door. You squeeze WinWin’s hand, leaning back in quickly to kiss him. “We can trust him, WinWin. Why do you doubt him so much?”

WinWin stands up, casting a glance over at the other two. “Because you’re going with him. This could all be a trap he’s planning.”

Renjun rolls his eyes as he pulls the door open. “It wouldn’t be a very good trap and an even worse plan. Now, please, if you don’t come along, we’re going to miss our window of opportunity.” He steps out, leading the way. Renjun doesn’t look back even once to check that you and the others are coming. 

You trust him fully, so you follow. 

Mark and WinWin are both right behind you.

Immediately, once you’re outside of the common room, you notice a slight flaw in your plans. The stalker Watcher isn’t outside your room. 

“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” WinWin asks in a hushed voice once you’ve pointed it out. “We don’t have to do anything about him if he’s not here.”

Renjun looks back over his shoulder at WinWin as he starts to climb the spiral stair up to the next floor. “But then we don’t know where he is, and I have a feeling that he’s usually got a pretty good idea of where the three of you are. Watchers do have powers, and some of them are gifted in tracking; usually that’s just the soldier Watchers, but some of the others do as well.” He looks around, keeping an eye out for any Watchers who might be wandering the House instead of down at breakfast with the rest.

“Maybe he’s at breakfast,” WinWin suggests. 

Renjun makes a sound of disagreement.

Unfortunately, according to Renjun, the location of the High Watcher’s portrait is near the entrance hall this morning. That takes you dangerously close to all of the Watchers that you’re trying to avoid, but there’s no other choice. That’s what role Mark and WinWin are serving today: the distraction. In addition to taking care of the stalker Watcher, their responsibility in the plan is to make sure that no other Watchers come towards the dungeon’s hidden entrance while you and Renjun are still inside. 

The path to the entrance hall and the banquet hall is a longer one this morning, and you’re not sure if you’re grateful for the extra time or not. Your bones itch to just be with Yuta and Ten again, to get these preliminary actions out of the way so you can see them once more. 

Already on edge, it’s no surprise that you jump, nearly startled out of your skin when WinWin’s hand lands on your shoulder, pulling you back slightly towards him. 

His eyes are focused ahead, a burning amber color.  

“There he is,” he growls.

You look forward, following his gaze along the hallway Renjun is leading you along. Up ahead, having just rounded the corner, is the stalker Watcher. His familiar black robes and the silver jewelry on his shoulder make him easily distinguishable. His gait as he walks towards you is also familiar.

Renjun hesitates just a few feet in front of you. He looks back at the three of you. “It’s go-time.”

WinWin’s eyes stay hot, flashing dangerously as he angles a grin at Mark, a surprising tone of excitement in his voice when he says, “Our audience awaits.”

“You don’t have to sound so delighted about this, you know.” Mark stands on your other side looking over at WinWin. He presses a fist into the palm of his other hand, cracking his knuckles. “Is the prospect of fighting with me the only thing getting your rocks off these days?”

WinWin rolls his eyes, his lip curling slightly. “Oh, there’s plenty else that gets me off, Mark.” His hand shifts on your shoulder, and you swat him away, putting a little distance between them and you, standing closer to Renjun.  

Mark snarls, and the two of them begin arguing.

Renjun just smiles, all light-hearted and unaffected by the bickering men behind you. “If they can keep that energy up, this should be easy.”

As much as you tried to not listen to the exact details of their plan to get the stalker Watcher out of your way, you had heard some small parts of it. Mostly this: they were planning to get into a brawl in front of him, hoping that he would deem them a bigger threat than whatever you were getting up to, and he would follow them as they took their fight through the halls of the House. You know that they won’t actually hurt each other. Probably.

Unfortunately, they’ve probably got a lot of fuel to keep this fire going for a while. They’ve always been alright with each other's presence, but since WinWin’s rut and then especially since they lost the buffer of Yuta and Ten between them, there’s been a tiny bit more animosity between them. Coming here to Purgatory and the House of the Watchers, it’s only gotten worse, though you’re pretty certain that’s due to the unfamiliar environment, the near-constant surveillance of the Watchers with their clear disdain, and the fate of their friends and your boyfriends that remains up in the air. 

The stalker Watcher approaches from the other end of the corridor, his black cloak fluttering around his legs. 

Mark and WinWin, despite it all, do know the plan. Therefore, as you and Renjun begin taking small steps forward, continuing forward as if the sight of the Watcher isn’t a problem, the other two walk a little faster. Soon, they’re outpacing you and Renjun, drawing ahead of you, putting themselves between you and the Watcher. With each step, their quiet argument grows in volume. Their voices echo around the corridor, off the glass ceiling of a solarium filled with honey-bright sunlight and strange plants that sit along one side of the hallway. 

The echoes distort their words, making it difficult to actually understand much of what they’re saying, but the wild gestures of their hands tend to stray in your direction, so you think you may have an idea. 

As they approach the Watcher, Mark yells something and pushes WinWin. The werewolf stumbles, and he knocks into the Watcher.

WinWin rights himself, a growl ripping through him, ready to throw himself fully into this fight with Mark.

You’re sure that they would begin the violent fight imminently, except for the sharp sound of your gasp.

When Mark pushed WinWin, he left long bloody scrapes from his nails along WinWin’s arm, but it’s not the sight of the blood that’s taken you by surprise. Rather, it’s the way that when WinWin stumbled into the Watcher, he knocked the man back against the wall, and in doing so, his hood fell away from his face. 

Other than during mealtimes in the Banquet hall, you’ve hardly seen the Watchers with their hoods down. Most keep them up all the time, though the novices in white do shirk away the given anonymity of the hood even when they’re in their worst behavior. But the fact remains that the majority of the Watchers, you’ve never really seen their faces, and now you’re faced with this Watcher’s bared features. 

The first thing you notice about him is the ragged curl of his lips, the pink canyon of a scar along his right cheek. His left eyebrow, eyelid, and his nose are all marred by jagged scrapes that can be nothing other than claw marks. The twisted, shiny scar of a burn covers his jaw on the left side, extending across his throat in the shape of a handprint. And under it all, you make out the facial features of someone you know. 

WinWin comes to the realization at the same time as you. 

A deep growl rumbles from his chest as he turns his back on Mark, crouching as he glares at the unhooded Watcher before you. 

Hansol. 

The damage to his handsome face is startling, but without a doubt, it’s him. You see now what vengeance Yuta, Ten, and WinWin had exacted on him that you’d never truly wanted to see. Once, they’d told you that they’d left him and your pastor alive, their memories modified, but they hadn’t mentioned this: how they’d shredded Hansol’s features to nearly the point of being unrecognizable. 

He grimaces as you make eye contact. 

“Hello,” he says, and at once you realize that you’d recognized his voice from the first moment you heard it. You just hadn’t ever considered that he could be here, so you hadn’t made the connection. 

“Don’t talk to her,” WinWin growls. 

Mark, confused, looks between the three of you. Renjun shrinks back against the wall. 

“I’ll talk to her if I damn well please, dog.” Hansol’s lips twist grotesquely, his gaze flicks away from you, over to WinWin. “You don’t have the demons here to protect you now.”

A shiver unfurls along your spine, calling to the eternal fire inside you. Sparks jump on your skin, your hair rising. WinWin’s whole body tenses up, his eyes shifting from a warm amber brown towards a lupine shade of yellow-gold. 

“What the hell is going on?” Mark asks, “Who is this guy?”

All you can say is, “Hansol.” 

No need for the superlatives of ex-lover and exorcist, Mark immediately understands the context just from his name alone. He has heard the stories from your boyfriends, from WinWin. He’s heard the name muttered from your lips on a few rare occasions. Even if he hadn’t you’re sure that the demon handprint burnt to his throat as well as the werewolf claw marks tearing up his once-handsome face should have been indicative that this was no friend. Mark’s stance shifts immediately, eyes blazing bloodred, his fangs emerging along with a hiss. 

“Surprised to see me?” Hansol asks, that demented grin still on his face. 

Of course you’re surprised to see him. For that period of time that you knew him, you’d thought he was only human. Not anything more or less than just human. You stand frozen in your spot, staring at him. Your mind is whirring to compute and catch up, to just comprehend that your ex-lover certainly wasn’t killed by your boyfriends, his memory wasn’t erased like they’d told you they’d done, and he’s just a disfigured version of the man that you’d once known. 

He takes a step towards you, only managing the one step before WinWin’s shoulder collides with Hansol’s chest, slamming the Watcher back against the wall. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” WinWin’s clawed hand presses against the burned handprint on Hansol’s throat. The tips of his claws create indents on the skin, but they don’t break through, just held there as a threat. “You’re not allowed to touch her anymore, bastard.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, and with a flick of his hand, WinWin is flying backwards. He crashes against the opposite wall of the corridor, rattling old framed photographs on the wall. Hansol shakes his sleeves out, brushing a bit of lint off the front of his black cloak. 

Then Mark charges him. 

Having witnessed Mark’s vampire strength and speed before when he and WinWin sparred each other in your apartment in Hell City, you feel confident in his attack. You’ve seen how quickly and easily he’d pinned WinWin, laughing as he’d held his fangs above the werewolf’s neck. But now Hansol matches Mark’s speed; you remember what Renjun said the other day about the animal blood dulling Mark’s abilities, and you see that clearly now as Hansol gets the better of Mark, hurling him down the hallway. 

Mark skids and tumbles over the carpet, coming to a stop several meters away. Closer at hand, WinWin rises to his feet, his limbs shaking with barely contained fury now. 

You take a startled step back, closer to Renjun now where he’s pressed to the wall. You watch as Mark and WinWin both vibrate with the heat of the fight, as Hansol forgets your presence, focused only on the two predators defending you against him. Both of them begin moving towards him at the same time, and Hansol readies himself for the impending attack. 

Their bodies meet violently. 

Mark’s hand goes to Hansol’s throat, and WinWin slashes his claws across Hansol’s chest, cutting ribbons out of his shirt. Hansol leans in against Mark’s hand. From your vantage point a safe distance down the corridor, you can’t clearly see Hansol’s face, but you can see his lips are moving, that he’s forcing some words out even as Mark chokes him. You see the expression on WinWin’s face fall for the briefest moment, his eyes lifting to catch sight of you. Hansol says something else, and WinWin’s focus jolts back around; a sneer curls Mark’s lip. 

Renjun grabs your arm, his hand resting against your forearm, startling you in your tense state. You look over at him, at his eyes flickering back and forth between silver and hazel, which you’re beginning to understand must be related to his level of adrenaline. “We need to move,” he whispers, “If we go now, we’ll be there before the Watcher even realizes we’re gone.”

It’s a yelp and a roar of fury that draws your attention back to the fight just in time to witness WinWin exploding into his wolf form. His fur drips blood from the suddenness of his inner wolf bursting so quickly through his human skin. This transformation is entirely different from the last you witnessed back beside the fountain in Hell City. This one was instant and seemed less painful, though you wonder if the emotions he’s feeling sped up the experience. 

His emotions are certainly high. 

The second that WinWin’s four paws hit the ground, his teeth are bared, body bristling as he shakes off the blood. He glares at Hansol with his yellow eyes. Mark is also utterly  transformed. You can see the vivid red glow of his eyes, the veined shadows that fracture the skin around his eyes, and the vicious length of his fangs and nails that have grown into claws. You can hear Mark hissing, WinWin’s snappy growl, and the low challenge of Hansol foolishly egging them both on. 

You don’t want to watch, not really, but it’s that morbid fascination. You can’t look away even though you know that you’re not going to like what you see when the fighting actually begins. 

Renjun tugs on your arm again, trying to pull you away from the growing tension, but you linger for another moment, watching the three of them as WinWin prowls closer, as Mark sinks into a fighting stance, and Hansol just retains his demented grin, arms held out wide as if to welcome them in. 

“We can’t stay!” Renjun whispers, and with one last tug, he pulls you away, running back along the hallway from the direction you came. 

You hear the sounds behind you as you and Renjun rush down along a side hallway. You hear the smack of bodies against each other behind you, hear the growling and vicious guttural sounds of contact being made. There is crashing, glass breaking, the crunching of a body being thrown into something. You hear the sounds moving, growing more distant as the pair of you and the fight move farther away from each other. Mark and WinWin are on the move, the rough tumbling and rolling thunder of growls  grows distant faster than you and Renjun are moving. 

Renjun throws a door open to a secret passage, a set of stairs that leads upwards, and with his hand still tight on your arm, he hauls you up the stairs behind him. You come crashing through a hidden door at the top into a dark hallway. No windows allow natural light here, and if there are lamps or candles mounted to the wall, they’ve all been extinguished. The only light comes from the open ends of the hallway—one at what appears to be the entrance hall and the other end overlooks a small staircase that leads up to somewhere bright and sunny. There’s only just enough light in the middle of this hallway for you to be able to see the hulking shadows of a few statues, the ornate frames mounted on the walls that appear empty as you pass them in the dark. 

Renjun throws his arm out to stop you as you near the end of the hallway by the stairs. You’re both still fully hidden in the shadow of the hallway, but Renjun pulls you sideways into the recessed doorway. He attempts to pull you fully into the nook, out of sight of anyone who might pass down this hallway, but you peek out, wanting to know what’s just set him on guard. 

A second later, a small group of Watchers passes by the end of the hallway that opens onto the entrance hall. They walk quickly, not even sparing a glance down this hallway, their voices confused murmurs of a language that you don’t understand, but something in their words causes Renjun to tense up beside you. He buzzes with silent energy, staring down towards where they disappeared, waiting for the sounds of their voices to fade away. 

When you can no longer hear the echoes of their voices, when there is nothing but silence, Renjun moves.

“Now!” He whispers, and his hand slips into yours, pulling you out of the nook. 

You both run, moving quickly towards the sunlight at the other end of the hallway, turning the corner, and you find yourself face-to-face with the portrait of the High Watcher. To your delight and relief, there truly is no one standing guard in front of the portrait, just an empty stretch of sunlit hallway. 

Renjun’s palm slides with nervous sweat against yours, as you come to a halt in front of the portrait. He doesn’t let go of you, instead using his free hand to search along the edge of the frame, muttering under his breath in what you believe sounds like a countdown. 

His hand stops. 

“Fuck,” he sighs in relief, pulling his hand back, holding a little tighter to yours. “Okay, here we go.”

There’s a clicking sound from deep behind the portrait. A creak, a pop, a groan, and then the frame swings out from the wall just enough the Renjun can haul it open a few inches further before he’s slipping in through the crack, dragging you with him. 

The air inside tastes dusty and stale on your tongue. The walls and floor and ceiling are all made of the same tightly fit-together gray stone, heading straight in for a few feet before turning sharply down into a steep set of stairs. For the moment, it’s all very well-lit. A series of mirrors are placed along the walls, reflecting the light coming in through the open portrait down along the dungeon’s stairs. 

Before you can take a step towards the stairs to hope for a clear look down, your vision goes black. 

“Shh.” Renjun is right there. His hand is still on yours. He’s just shut the portrait door, closing out all of the natural light. He whispers, “Don’t move. I don’t want you to fall. I need to just find…. where the damn light is.”

You don’t need a light. 

With your hand that’s not clamped on his, you call your flames, settling on a hot white bulb of fire that rests comfortingly in your palm. 

“That works.” Renjun nods beside you, his face even more pale and silvery in the white light of your flame. 

You feel a shift, feel like the walls shiver around you, and a low rumble similar to blood rushing in your ears fills the air. Renjun reaches a hand out to steady you, “It was just the House rearranging.” He had timed everything perfectly so there would only be a minute at the most from the time that you were behind its secret entrance to it moving to its new location elsewhere in the House. “Follow me. Be careful. There’s no handrail and it’s very steep.”

The steps are narrow and uneven, and the way your flame flickers makes the shadows dance, only enhancing the difficulty of descending the stairs. But Renjun moves steadily downward in front of you, so you just follow his shoulders, keeping one hand on the wall and the other hand aloft to light the way. 

You notice unlit candles in sconces along the curved walls, so as you pass them, you lift your hand, briefly touching the wicks to light the candles behind you. The candlelight reflects in the mirrors, making the tunnel even brighter. 

The deeper you descend, the damper the air grows. The walls develop a slick look, a cool feeling to them, like they’re seeping moisture, covered in lichen and moss. 

“Careful,” Renjun whispers when your foot slips on a slick step, and you’re forced to catch yourself with your hands on his shoulders. “We’re nearly there.”

You wonder how things are going up there in the House. Your thoughts linger with WinWin and Mark, and a small part of you wants to leave the dungeons, to go find them and make sure that they’re alright. A bigger part of you is dedicated to what you’re walking towards, toward seeing Yuta and Ten again. That part of you grows with every passing second, every beat of your heart. You’re going to see them again and all of this is going to be worth it. You’re going to talk to them, come up with a plan on how to get them out of here or at least get them out of the trial with a verdict of innocence. 

“Here.” Renjun steps aside, revealing the way that the stairs level out into a smooth tunnel that curves around to the right. An arched doorway opens onto the dungeons. You can see a single pale light glowing, reflecting off the iron bars and a puddle in the first cell. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here,” Renjun whispers. 

Frozen, you remain there for a moment. This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for, but you’re scared. The fear bites deep into your bones. What if you walk in there and all the cells are empty? If Yuta and Ten aren’t actually here? What if WinWin was right and this has all been some elaborate fucked-up trap by the Watchers? Or worse, what if you walk in there and you find Yuta and Ten, but not the way that they were when you left them?

After a moment, you take a tentative step forward, then another. You pause again in the doorway, reaching out a steadying hand to the wall. You can’t see anyone, can’t hear any signs of life. Only a distant dripping sound somewhere down the block of cells. There’s a clang deep below you, and you glance back at Renjun. Surely he wouldn’t leave you to venture forward alone if there was anything dangerous lurking down in the cells? 

Renjun nods reassuringly, following a few paces behind you. He looks hesitant, a bit frightened, and you wonder if being down here is just making him think of his parents. Maybe it wasn’t very kind of you to ask him to bring you down here. But he’s here with you, and when he offers you another faint smile, you decide that he wouldn’t have brought you if he truly didn’t want to be down here.

You face forward again. 

“Yuta? Ten?” Your voice wavers, echoing, doubled back at you as you take another step forward. 

There, the tiniest sound from midway down the block of cells. A shuffle, a clink of a chain. There’s the smallest sound of a groan, and your heart leaps in your chest, propelling you forward through the doorway. A small puddle splashes under your foot. 

The first stretch of cells are completely empty.

“Yuta?” Your voice rebounds at you from the darkness.

A few more empty cells, and then your footsteps falter as your flames reflect off something shining in one of the cells only to reveal a broken femur lying disjointedly from the rest of a chained skeleton. 

“Ten?” There’s a tremble in your voice as you continue on.

You pass down the block, all of the cells empty. Your heart thuds in your throat, your flames in your hand pulse in time with your heartbeat. A short flight of stairs leads downwards, and here the walls positively weep. Your self-produced light catches on the rivulets of moisture on the walls, the black puddles on the stone floor. The stairs take a turn, leading farther down, down down. You can lean over the railing and see that the shadows dance into darkness far below.

How far down do these dungeons go? With the ever-increasing amount of liquid drawing out of the walls, are the bottom cells drowned in a black lake? 

You hope you don’t have to find out.

“Ten?” Your voice sounds quieter now, and you can’t tell if that’s your own fear muffling your voice or if it’s the dampness in the air swallowing the sound. “Yuta?”

Nothing.

Renjun sighs quietly, and he collapses to sit on a bench built into the wall beside the stairs. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and sad. Your shoulders slump slightly forward, and so quietly that your voice barely rises above a whisper, you ask, “How deep do you think we’ll have to go? What if they’re not even down here?”

For the first time, a new fear awakens in you. What if the Watchers already gave Yuta and Ten their trial? What if they determined them guilty, and they’re just stringing you, WinWin, and Mark along on a false hope? You squash that idea quickly; what reason would the Watchers have to lie to you about that, just to keep you here?

“No.” You shake your head, speaking more to yourself than to Renjun. “Yuta and Ten are down here somewhere. They’ve got to be.”

You walk away, leaving Renjun on the bench, peering into each cell as you pass.

And then, faintly, from a dark cell, you hear a voice. 

<-previous || next–>

a/n: sorry for the extra long delay! but it’s a long chapter to make up for it! I hope you enjoyed it, and as always please let me know what you thought! Likes, reblogs, comments and tags are always and forever appreciated 

[brooklynislandgirl]

@honorhearted {{xx}}

By the time Beth reached her fifteenth winter, she'd been married a countless number of times. Beneath the rose-bower her father had planted for her mother when the Boston house was still only it's foundations and her parents were a little younger than she is now, solemn in her best dress and her caplet for Mass. Under the graceful and slender arms of the willow trees just on the outskirts of the Setauket farm, where she pretended the well mannered old hunting dog was her dear groomsman. A full five years younger than Andrew and his friends, she was sometimes left out of their games and their education, thus making it necessary for her to play on her own. These weddings were sometimes rushed and sometimes languished until she was called in by her governess, Hannah, to take tea and some light meal. Not one of those nuptials lasted past an afternoon, and none were so much her favourite as the ones where she closed her eyes tightly and imagined Ben taking her trembling hand. Perhaps that was the truth of the tears and inconsolable grief that fell over her as a bitter pall when he went away to school and the family in turn moved inward to their fine new house in Pennsylvania. She could not know then that her father grieved the loss of her mother in child-bed, that their home had become a crypt to her memory, and that the new house was some salve for his spirit. He had never not doted on her, but perhaps that was how she had been forged…wrong, given more latitude than any could imagine. She should have been an excellent prospect for a happy future but in her heart of hearts, she has more in common with a younger son than all the society maidens of her acquaint. Each year that passes she is those twelve months closer to spinsterhood. The stirrings of war were perhaps a blessing as much as it is a curse, delaying the inevitable. She will at it's end ~and of course it must come to a conclusion, either in much hoped for victory or the purgatory of defeat~ be given to someone of her father's choosing. But here? Here is her heart's yearning. With straying lock eloped from its queue, with a body like mountain stones, with a countenance of brooding night, he is set over his papers. He hardly stirs, seems more effigy than living man. Then towers over her when he gets to his feet before her trembling fingers fully affix the token and she does not know what else she should have expected. They certainly have had no sweetness between them in these last days. She is as doomed now as she was all those years ago. He says nothing when she speaks and she steels herself to take her leave once the offering is given only to find herself caught within his grasp. Watches his mouth work for a moment and cannot look away from him. She half expects him to push her away but instead Ben chooses to caress himself against her palm. His gaze swims in the light of his candles, reflecting their glimmering light. Hannah is not here to herd her back to the house, nor is there a holy father in his black robes to rescue her soul from its imperilment. She is not so sure she would heed either one well with the way he is gazing at her, and with how her heart leaps in her breast as if to throw itself at his feet. His voice surrounds her like night and shadow when he asks the ribbon's purpose. But before she can answer, he takes hold of her face and kisses her forehead, ever so chastely. So close is he that she wonders if he can hear her heart beginning to crack. If only he could know what it feels to have him so close and yet unable to do anything about it. She is his friend, yes, but not as she should be.

He torments her with another peppering of kisses, his lips soft and tender as she dreamed they might be. Kisses that half cage her breath in her throat so that it staggers forth drunkenly and comes to a crashing halt against him. His fingers abandon her wrists in favour of her waist, a touch that holds a heavy sort of intimacy and her knees become as water. She melts just as easily as the wax being consumed by its flame on his desk. His next question, the caress of his mouth against the shell of her ear, turns that flicker to conflagration and were she a house, she would be only ashes. Pity then that she is only human and her own hands move from his chest. One rises to his shoulders and take perch there while inching its way toward his hair,  while the other settles near his hip and fingers tighten. This purchase on him is all that keeps her upright, when all of her wants to simply sink against Ben. All of her turns to molten fire as his teeth graze against her skin. All the air in her lungs seems to dissipate in that moment as her heart sets a thunderous pace. As every last inch of her strives to be that much closer to him she rises upward, pressing her modest curves against him despite the fact that some parts of her are now painfully taut. She starts to nuzzle him in return before he catches her and draws her gaze upward ~she doesn't hear the little wordless sound that ekes out of her throat~ and he pours himself into her gaze. Hers is hazy with a certain sort of madness, half lidded in the dim light. Her throat rises and falls beneath that second caress as she manages a shuddering whisper. "Is ceol mo chroí thú, Benjamin." Thick dark lashes settle against her otherwise pale skin and her eyes close and her lips part. The time of her tongue slinks across them in an invitation to kiss her proper. She feels her belly tighten and it feels like a flock of birds startled from their brush take wing within her. Lost in the moment she is left standing there unsteady and bereft when Ben pulls away from her and she momentarily recoils. What has she said? What has she done that he would retreat from her? She takes a needed half step back to steady herself and above her gaze her brows knit marking her confusion when she opens her eyes and tilts her head. On his knees he looks anguished, not a thought of prayer or God anywhere to be found in his visage.

Something inside of her breaks. Neither anger nor despair, not quite hurt. She has no word for it but it puts mettle in her spine. Now empty hands smooth her skirts and she takes a sobering breath, blinking back the moisture suddenly gathered there. For a split second her lips purse closed and the corners of them tremble as she tries desperately to gather wisps of thought into something more substantial. When she does? She takes the few steps that kill the space between them. It feels strange to be able to gaze down into his face though she isn't much taller than he is this way. "I know," she begins slowly though there is kindness laced through her words. "Caleb let slip, why do you think I came? Do you honestly believe I could watch you ride into hell's embrace and not...not wish to have spent these last moments? I don't know where you will go. What you will encounter with your dragoons. But I do know that when you go, you will take all of me with you. Saints preserve, because...because I love you, Ben Tallmadge. That is all the truth that need live in my heart." She cradles his face between her small, trembling hands and this time she tilts his face upward. Every word she spoke is etched in the lines of her face, in the way her eyes darken before she lowers her face to his and presses her lips against his own.

[willtheweaver]

OC interview tag

Thanks for the tag @whatwewrotepodcast

Let’s do Caine for this one

Were you named after anyone?

My great-grandfather on my mother’s side.

When was the last time you cried?

The last time? Several days ago. It was on the date that…that…[*sniff* sniff* cry*]

…sorry, but it’s hard to bring up some times. I miss Sorrel.

Do you have any kids?

One. Sorrel brought home a newborn crow she found during a hunt. We always wanted a child… the Thá allowed us to take charge, only condition was that no one was to know (please don’t tell anyone. If any of the other foxes were to know… there is much bad blood between us and the birds). Keep this a secret, will you? Fen is all I’ve got left.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

No.

What is the first thing you notice about people?

The first thing? That would be if they are from nearby or not. Back when I was a hunter, I met and encountered foxes from the other villages frequently.

What is your eye color?

Amber brown.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Can you please explain? [discussion off to the side] Oh! Now that is fascinating. As for the origional question, happy endings.

Any special talents?

Back when I had both my legs, I could climb with extreme dexterity.

Where were you born?

Right here, Fernstan village.

Do you have any pets?

So that’s what they are called… no I do not.

What sort of sports do you play?

Nothing currently. There is so much that one cannot do with just one leg.

How tall are you?

34 inches in your measurements.

What was your favorite subject in school?

Wait, you are telling me that there are some in your community who do nothing but teach others? That is something we don’t do…but maybe we should…

What is your dream job?

Really anything as long as I can be useful.

Tagging @drchenquill @theink-stainedfolk @honeybewrites @autism-purgatory @agirlandherquill

@stesierra @little-peril-stories @mysticstarlightduck @diabolical-blue @buffythevampirelover

@illarian-rambling @somethingclevermahogony and open tag for anyone who wants to join in