#about like the fallen things in the world the badness the devil

[magpie-trove]

Something so so deeply radically wonderfully creatively redemptive in thank you Aimee though

[kentopedia]

♰ sent to destroy — dazai osamu

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 5 - fallen angel!dazai

he promises he's not the devil, but he steals your soul with just a kiss.

contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, takes place in 1920s for fun ig, actress!reader, alcohol, one mention of suicidal ideation and prostitution by reader, blasphemy, sacrilege, pls don't read this if ur religious & will get offended LMAO, angel fucking (& he has wings), bondage (thru powers), unprotected sex, cunnilingus, corruption kink, possessive sex, softish dazai, mm idk what else — 6.1k

note: i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i normally do so plss ignore any mistakes and i'll love you forever

the speakeasy fills with a thin veil of smoke, coating the room with an intoxicating mix of alcohol and nicotine. it’s a lewd place, full of degenerates and failed actresses like yourself, a crowd of people who don’t belong, but try their best to find a way to keep living. 

it’s a place where women pick up their clients, leading them to the hotel around the corner for a night they certainly won’t be paid enough for. it’s where people drown their miseries in alcohol and hope they won’t wake up in the morning. 

it is, regrettably, the only place you can afford. 

you sit alone at one of the tables, hands shaky from nerves as you smoke another cigarette, contributing just as much to the cloud that suffocates the small room. 

hoards of people make their way downtown for a sip of alcohol, the drink that has so ridiculously been banned, but you are no exception, no angel amongst the sinful devils. 

someone plays a saxophone at the front of the bar, spinning into a graceful melody of jazz that sings out to you, lulls you into an embrace that warms your core. it soothes the anxiety that has lingered with you throughout the day, the reminder that your life is tailspinning. 

you’d failed at landing yet another role, and the acting career you’d packed your bags and moved out for was plummeting. who would accept you now, now that your hopes and dreams had been for naught, now that you’d created a shameful woman of yourself and your family?

the answer was clear; but you were too stubborn too accept it, too desperate to believe that you could be up in the glimmering lights, the brightest silver star the world had ever seen. 

you lean back in your chair, stamping out the cigarette with a sigh as you stand to collect another drink. there’s not much left in your pockets, but you’ve made it work before, and you’ll keep making it work now, scrounging up coins for the relief that came with forgetting. 

the only consolation is the line of women that stand alongside you at the bar, as dejected and miserable as yourself. all of you have been labeled the failures of your families, the ones that bet on a shot in the dark. none of you expected that the road would be easy, certainly not with the way the industry is hasty to pick up only the most beautiful faces… but your ambitions had led you to believe that you, of all people, had had a chance. 

you know your beauty is endless, a sight to be admired, but even that had not been enough to secure your spot in the limelight. 

you thank the bartender as he hands you a drink, and slump back to your table, waiting for the effects of the alcohol to kick in. yet, when you stand at the edge of the table, peer at the chair you’d once been seated in, there is already a man there. 

he gazes at you with a crooked smile, eyes amused as he regards your beaten-down state.

you’ve seen him before—made every attempt not to see him again. you know what they say about him. he’s a wizard, he’s the devil, he’s a god that steals the body of a mortal, waiting to destroy the earth. all bad things, certainly, and with the way your life’s been going, you’d be a fool to get mixed up with someone like him.

still…you know of the things he’s done for people. that miracles have happened for those brave enough to ask for them. 

perhaps, you’re in need of a miracle. 

the dark-haired man leans forward, eyebrows raised as you gawk at him from the other side of the table. “no need to look so frightened,” he says, gesturing towards the other chair. “sit.” 

“i don’t want any company,” you say, straightening, pulling your drink closer to your chest. “i came here to be alone.”

his eyes flash, predatory, as if seeing down through the depths of your soul, to the very desire that lingers within. all of your dreams, your ambitions, and your loneliness are displayed to him, a flashing banner that alerts him easily of everything that’s ever been wrong with you. 

“is that so?” he asks, leaning forward, his voice deepening amongst the chaos of the speakeasy. “then, why have you been staring at me all evening?” 

you can’t help the flush that rushes to your cheek, the heat that covers your entire body. with the crowd of men and women alike that are constantly at his arm, you’d hardly thought he’d notice you.

and though you know what they say about him, he is undeniably beautiful; you’re drawn to him. there is a dark and heavenly beauty about him, something that you fear is too angelic to be of this world. his eyes glimmer almost like diamonds in the candlelit room, skin so flawless that it is nearly luminescent. 

it’s no wonder, really, that you haven’t been able to peel your eyes off of him.

you circle around his question, instead, and set your drink down on the table, lured in either by a false sense of safety, or the confidence of his grin. “i know what you are,” you say, swallowing back the fear that devils often prey on. 

he smiles, indulging you, a lifelong game he has surely played. “and what is that, my dear?” 

the mocking tone sends a cold wave down your spine, even though the sweet name seems to warm you. “i don’t believe i should say it out loud.” you’re not sure what kind of consequence that will bring you. perhaps you do not need to make a deal with him for your soul to be damned, straight to the fiery pits; maybe this conversation is enough, and already, you are on the long list of sinners that will be sent to burn.

“because you believe i am the devil? a demon sent to prey upon you and your soul, drag you down to hell once the contract you’ve made is over?” 

you say nothing, but your silence speaks loudly. 

he sighs, leans back in the chair and looks at you from under thick lashes. “i have no interest in the dealings of those fifty, lesser beings. i find that i can bargain for more enjoyable ventures.” two dark eyes trace over you, swallow you whole as he grazes your curves with his irises, the shape of your breasts under the tightness of your dress, the style shorter to match the current fashions. “so, i think we both may have something the other is interested in. please,” he gestures once more to the seat in front of him, addressing you by your first name—one you never even had to tell him. “sit.” 

nervous, you take the chair, wondering why you aren’t running away, screaming at everyone that there is a monster in your midst, a being that hunts the weak to lure them away from their misery. no wonder he has made himself a frequent customer at this place—there are people drowning in sorrows. one deal with him, and they will wake up in the morning, drowning in riches instead. 

“what do you want from me?” you ask, letting your hands fall to your sides. 

“so eager to get to the best part of my bargain, silly girl. have some patience.” he takes a sip of his own drink, pinning you with his gaze, even above the rim. you squirm under the intensity, but you, even now, can’t look away. “i know you’re struggling to find work. you’ve been here for years, and made pennies to live off of.” he reaches across the table, spins a lock of hair around his finger as he sighs dramatically. “such a shame, really. they must fear the power of your perfection if they refuse to let you shine brighter than the rest of the dull creatures that they call starlets.” 

your heart drops, stutters within the delicate bones of your skeleton before starting again, as you remember that this is how the devil would act, luring you in with sweetly poisoned words full of deceit. “they are talented—”

“they are nothing,” he snarls, banging his fist on the table so loudly that you jump, hands shaking against the beaded skirt of your dress. “you may claim to believe in your own talents, your appearance, but it is all a lie, a facade that you maintain to protect yourself. you are the one holding yourself back, and unless you let me help you, you’ll get nowhere.”

you feel tears burn. “you mean to lure me away from the path of god—”

his eyes narrow. “i mean to free the human race from the chains that religion has bound on them. there is nothing for you in the afterlife but an existence of slavery. one to a malicious devil who only wishes to torment, or one to a god who doesn’t love you.” 

it confuses you, the way he speaks of these beings as if he is not on the side of heaven or hell. as if there could be another option. it seems surreal, a secret that you should not have been told; since the day you were born, you have learned of the path of righteousness, the will of god. 

that is the only way you can obtain a life of peace… yet, there is a creature before you, claiming to offer you a third path, one that doesn’t have you bowing down for a god that won’t answer your prayers. 

it may be foolish, the work of the devil, but you are willing to listen. you are already lured in by this graceful creature with a charming smile and a quick tongue, and you don’t know if it will take much more for you to succumb to him completely. 

already, you have lost your way—you would do anything to escape your unhappiness.

“what is it you’re after, then?” you ask, your voice softer, weaker than you anticipated. 

he laughs, and lets his head tilt sideways, studies you before answering. “my father has cast me out of heaven; i plan to build my own religion of followers, tearing them away from that idiot of a being they call their god. because i am much stronger, much wiser, and the only way that they can find peace after their death is by trusting that i will give it to them.” 

you swallow, twining your fingers together, and think. “you’re… an angel?” 

he waves his hand. “a fallen one.”

there are things about the world that you do not understand, but you know that god has not once help you when you were drowning without a savior. he did not guide a helping a hand when you contemplated dragging a knife across your wrists, and yet, here is something, someone wanting to save you from just that. how is it that god can be more benevolent than those he casts out, when you have seen nothing but the opposite?

“you want me to join you, then?” you ask, drawing your eyebrows together. “if i join you, you’ll give me what i desire?”

“well… that is usually the bargain i offer. however,” he hums, eyes flashing as they scour your body. he looks at you hungrily, like he has never seen a being like yourself. “it has been a while since i’ve seen a human as beautiful as you.” 

you swallow, blinking at him with wide eyes as you grow hot all over. this would not be the first time you’ve sold your body for fame, but never has it been with a man as stunning as the angel before you. “you mean… if i fuck you, you’ll give me whatever i want?” 

he sniffs, repulsed by your suggestion. “always so lewd, you mortals.”

your eyebrows knit together. “but you said—”

“i don’t want you for one night. i want you forever. i want you to swear your body over to me for the rest of your life, let me use it as i wish, bear my children.” he traces your features, grazes a thumb over your jaw, your lip. his eyes are hard, and you swallow, wondering why your stomach flips. “you are meant to be mine.” he smiles, and though you can see the mischief within it, for some reason, there is also softness there as he crosses his arms over the counter. “but if you aren’t interested, then the deal is off the table. i have no need for someone who doesn’t want me in return.” 

you blink back at him, observing the seriousness of his expression, the softness lurking within the pools of his deep brown eyes. perhaps he is a vengeful angel… but he is offering you a life that is much more promising than the one you have now. would it really be so bad to give yourself to him, to spend the rest of your life in his arms, when he promises to give you everything you’ve ever wished for?

“i—” you hesitate, unsure how to even begin to answer the question, when you didn’t quite understand what it was that he needed from you.  

“i’ll give you some time to think about it. after all, it is a decision that will affect the rest of your life.” he stands to his feet, and it is then that you notice there are some eyes on you, the women he typically has hanging off of him watching your interaction with bated breath. “when you have an answer, just call for me. i’ll be there.” 

“wait,” you say, turning in your chair to face him. “i don’t even know your name.” 

“you can call me osamu.” he smiles and winks at you, tucking his jacket closer as he begins to walk away. “we’ll be in touch."

three weeks pass before you see him again. 

you’d decided quickly what you would say to him, and after two weeks worth of auditions that led to nothing, drinking without a friend in the world, alone to rot in your bedroom, you’d made up your mind.

osamu’s proposal, now, after everything you’d suffered, seemed too good to be true. how long had you wished for a companion, for money, for a steady job—and now, these were all things he promised to provide you, if only you’d stand by his side. 

you’d called to him at the start of the week, said a prayer to any angel named osamu that was out there—but no one came. 

night after night, you said the same prayer, wondering, if perhaps, you’d been made a fool of. that everything he had said was a lie, and you, truly, were doomed to live an unhappy life. maybe, he was mocking you for your misfortunes, for your weak heart. 

though, on the twenty-first day after your discussion, you awaken to a figure standing in the corner of your room, watching you with hawklike eyes, the shadow of a wingspan shaped out behind him. 

you gasp, nearly letting out a scream as you scramble to a seated position in your bed, bringing the sheets up to your chest. the man is nothing more than a silhouette, so dark in the moonlight, but you know, without seeing his face, that he is the one you’ve been searching for.

“osamu,” you say, trying to quell the fear that has made a home in your chest. you gawk at him as he uncrosses his arms, sauntering over like he owns the place, like he’s been here before, knows the shape of your body, even under the sheets you hide within. “you heard my prayers.” 

“i apologize for not coming faster,” he smiles in the darkness, teeth glimmering under beams of starlight. his face becomes visible then, and it steals your breath away—he is more stunning than you remember, skin nearly glowing, golden. “you were beginning to sound desperate.” osamu watches as your breathing evens out, your eyes flicking over his features. “is that still the case?” 

he is a sight to behold sitting before you, the very essence of power seeping off of him in waves. a creature crafted from the hands of god, shaped to be the very thing that would protect the weaker creations. 

osamu’s skin, his hair, every inch of him is without flaws, while you are but a sinful human girl who succumbs to each of her urges. 

“i want—” you stop, realizing that you’re not sure what you want. to be an actress, yes, a famous starlet that is cherished by the masses. but, when you look at osamu, the soft, plump shape of his lips, the lean limbs that hide under his tailored coat, you wonder if fame, security, comfort—perhaps, those aren’t the only things you desire from this exchange. “i accept—”

“you sound uncertain,” he interrupts, eyebrows drawing together in a scowl. “you called me here, begged me to come steal you away, and now, you change your mind?”

“no!” you say, scrambling to grab his wrist as he starts to stand from the bed, his eyes flashing as you reach for him on all fours. “i’m not changing my mind. i want to be famous, i want to be yours.” you swallow, choking out the word as it turns your cheeks warm, the heat making its way up from your toes. 

it hit you harder that you anticipated, the taste of belonging to another. you aren’t sure if its because you’ve craved the connection for so long that it’s twisting your insides, turning you into something desperate, or if, already, you feel an invisible string tying you and this stranger together. 

“but?” osamu asks, still seeming like he’s about to flee, his eyes hard, blinking back at you. there is something about you that he wants, but he won’t take it, not unless you crave him just as much. it muddles your mind, confuses you—he could have anyone, could take anything. yet— 

“but why do you want me?” you ask, releasing him to curl your fingers around the blanket. “i don’t understand.” 

osamu balks, then laughs, his eyes crinkling as he regards you with some sort of gentleness. “perhaps i have always loved humans a little too much, much more than i should, at least.” he curls a piece of your hair around his finger, hums to himself. “innocent creatures that my father cursed with misery, blaming their own sinfulness against them.” osamu licks his lips, hungry as dark eyes cover your face. “but it’s not entirely your fault that you must bear the torment of generations. just as it is not my fault that i was born with a lust for something much more delicate than the creatures of heaven.” 

he strokes your cheek, fingers grazing you like you are nothing more than a piece of glass, that you might shatter under the force of his power. perhaps you would—with too much, he might break you, turn you into a pile of ash with a snap of his finger.  

“but there are millions of us to choose from,” you say, sweating under the blanket as your heart pounds in your chest. the breadth of his power becomes more obvious with every passing second, and yet, you crave  a taste of it. “what makes me so special?”

he wraps a large palm around your jaw, thumb pulling at your lower lip. the tip of it dips into your mouth as you watch him with wide eyes, frozen, but not from fear. “i was meant to be your guardian angel, to be the guide that leads you away from the devil until your dying breath.” he moves closer, dipping his head towards your lips, brown irises never leaving your own. “and yet, the moment i laid eyes on you, i had already broken the first rule.” 

you stumble over your syllables, whispering them breathlessly. “and what’s that?” 

osamu smiles, muttering the words against your mouth, his voice ghosting over your skin. “angels are wired to protect those that we are assigned to,” he says, swiping his tongue against your lip, just barely kissing you, the sounds low and breathy. “we’re not supposed to want to fuck them.” a finger drags slowly, sensuously up your arm, and you can’t move, can’t do anything but watch as he pushes you, sinks you slowly into the bed. “i have never wanted anything as badly as i want you.”

you breath, in and out, slow, as the heat settles in your stomach, a burning pool of need churning there. it’s been so long—so long—since anyone has touched you in a way that is kind, has wanted to please you, instead of steal from you. “all that, just for me?” you ask cheekily, though you’re still not sure that he is telling the truth. 

maybe he is the devil, but you no longer care. his voice is so sweet with praise and affirmation, bleeding into the softness of your heart. 

he shrugs. “perhaps i was always meant to fall.” your head hits the pillow. you aren’t sure when he got you pinned on the bed. osamu looms over you with wide, burning eyes, licking his lips with an ache he doesn’t bother to hide. 

“osamu,” you shudder, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself. it is too much, suddenly, all at once. you are filled with need for him, clawing at his skin as he commands complete control over you with nothing but his words. “i—”

your sentence is stolen away by a kiss, one that burns from your mouth all the way down to your toes. it twists something within you, turns you into a monstrous being that you had not realized you were, longing so recklessly to be touched. 

his hands roam over your body, touch featherlight as he removes your dress, drags it slowly off your body, eyes grazing over every inch of your skin like he wants to devour your whole.

he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, fingers lightly dipping down your chest, between the swell of your breast to your ribcage. “how cruel of our father to keep us from such divine creatures,” he says, leaning down to kiss up your stomach, lick the skin around your breasts. “perhaps we are the ones that are truly being punished.”

you writhe under him, hands curling in his hair as his own dips between your thighs. grabbing his scalp hard, you yank him back up to your lips, and your eyes meet, both dark and dangerous as you brush your nose against his own. “you are punishing me right now.” 

“is that so?” he laughs, eyes flashing with humor. “such a greedy, impatient little thing.” osamu slips out of his coat, his shirt, revealing the tent that has already grown in his slacks. they are the next to go, and his golden skin is revealed, the perfection of every line and angle of his body heavenly and refined. he leans down to whisper in your ear, breath ghosting the shell of it. “act like such a princess, but i know you want to be fucked until you can’t form a single thought, don’t you?” he says, and the coolness of his voice has you squeezing his shoulders, gasping out his name.

your skin burns, your chest burns, an ache gathering and settling deep in your stomach. your cunt throbs as you look at the angel before you, and he kisses down your neck, bites a hard bruise into your collarbone. 

you whimper, wondering why you ever questioned going with him, when he could make you feel this good from nothing more than his hands on your skin. 

“such pretty fucking tits.” he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, teasing the bud as you cry out loudly in the silent room. far too loudly for the thin walls, the cheap apartment. yet, you wonder if you care that your neighbors can hear the noises that come with your pleasure. 

“that’s it,” he purrs, kissing down your stomach before his lips reach your hipbone, smiling into the sensitive skin there. “so quiet before… thought i was doing something wrong.” 

“n-no,” you say, chest rising quickly as you watch him hover above your soaked cunt with anticipation. “feels good.” 

osamu smiles, spreads your legs farther, so your dripping, aching hole is on display, embarrassingly, every inch of you vulnerable to him. “look at you,” he says, eyes hazy as he holds you tight, digs his fingers in your skin. “so fucking perfect. bet you taste as good as you look.” 

there isn’t a moment for you to say a word—his head is already between your thighs, kissing your clit before sweeping his tongue through your folds, gathering up the wetness. a moan leaves his lips, and the vibration sends a wave of need through you as you squeeze his hair, force him back down on your cunt, nose dragging against your clit. “osamu, please.”

“ah, ah, ah,” he stops, licking his lips that are moist from your juices as his head lifts from between your thighs. a dark smile stretches across his features, calculating and cruel. “where are your manners, sweetheart? i don’t want you to cum too quickly.” 

you’re not sure what he means until you feel your hands pinned to the bed by an invisible force, the power of the angelic creature before you, finally obvious. you can’t move, can’t even writhe against him, even as you try to thrust your hips forward, gain any sort of relief from the position. 

he laughs at you, so pitiful at your desperation to be touched. “much better,” he says, and returns to lap at your cunt, tongue already stretching you as his fingers graze your thigh. 

“s-samu,” you say, feeling the heavy pressure build down in your stomach. “want,” your cheeks grow hot, and you’re tingling with a need to touch him, but you can’t move. his pace is too steady, too slow. you’ve never wanted to scream more. “want your fingers. please, please.” 

“please? such a good girl.” osamu grins against your pussy. the sound of his tongue slurping at your arousal is loud in the darkened space, and you clench around him, burning with need and shame. “you taste so good, too. better than any of the fucking shit in heaven. fuck.” he slips a finger in then, working at your clenching hole as his tongue curls around your clit, rubbing at the sensitive bud. 

your words leave you in a cry, every muscle in your body aching. “please, i want to move. let me touch you, i want to, i—”

“i’m not letting you go that easy,” osamu says, and he pulls his mouth away, his face glistening, soaked. his fingers curl into you and you squeeze your eyes tight as he reaches deeper, to the second knuckle. “you’re so fucking worked up. bet you could cum at the sound of my voice alone.” 

“i wanna, please, i’m so close—"

he laughs, looking up at you from under dark lashes. “already?” the sound is mocking, nothing about it soft as he kisses your inner thigh. he sees the desperation in your irises as you can do nothing but stare, unable to twitch a single muscle. “gonna cum all over my face?” he asks, and he’s back between your legs, tongue diving into you. “make a mess on me, sweetheart, wanna see that pretty face of yours when you cum.” 

you don’t think you’ve every felt like this before, basked in the moonlight as the angelic man soaks his face with your desire, smiling at the sight of you so sinful. your heart hammers in your chest as you remember what you’ve promised him—that you would be his forever and, perhaps, this is what forever entails. 

breathy moans leave you, and with each thrust of his tongue, you’re left with less words on your lips, less thoughts in your mind. “feels so good, you’re so good, osamu,” you babble, over and over. 

osamu reaches the deep spot inside of you, and you squeeze him, clenching as you come on his fingers, cry out in the space of black room, nothing but the stars to guide you. you’re not sure you’ve ever come this fast before, not without the help of your own hands, but osamu just continues to lap at your cunt, drinking the juices and making lewd noises of pleasure at the taste of you. “mm,” he hums, “so fucking perfect.”

he fists his cock, already hard as his tongue swirls inside of you, and you lose any train of thought, too focused on the way he’s making you feel. 

osamu is hard, leaking before he shifts onto his knees, rubbing his cock between your folds, gathering slick at the tip. “want my cock, baby? such a pretty thing deserves it, don’t you think?”

you nod, muttering syllables you don’t even understand. osamu teases you, drags his cock against your hole as he kisses your lips. 

“use your words, sweetheart,” he smiles. his soaked fingers leave patterns of your own slick on your stomach. 

you groan, eyelashes wet. “want your cock, ‘samu, please, wanna be stuffed so full,” you babble, and you can’t do anything but lay there, even though you want to touch him, want so badly to shift your hips into him. “please, osamu, please,” 

he makes a noise in the back of his throat, grinning as he plays with your nipple, lining himself against your dripping hole. “so fucking sweet for me, anyone would think you were the angel, wouldn’t they?” osamu asks, and then he sinks into you, slow, eyes careful as he searches for any pain in your features. 

you blink up at him, making a soft noise as you writhe under your skin. “b-big,” you say, feeling him stretch your walls as he sinks further. 

though his eyes are careful, he doesn’t bother to stop, each second dragging as he inches further into you. he laces his fingers with yours on the bed, grinning as dark hair falls into his eyes. “i think you can take it, can’t you? you’ve been sogood for me already.” 

sucked into the coolness of his gaze, you don’t realize that he’s released you from whatever spell you’ve been trapped under, kept helpless on the bed. you gasp as he sinks into you completely, aching from a mix of discomfort and the deep need with you. 

“too much,” you say, but he sinks further, deeper, and your walls clench around him, bringing a heavy groan out of both of you. “fuck, please, let me move, i—” 

“i’m not stopping you,” he kisses you hard, sloppy as his saliva drags across your lips. there’s a possessiveness in the way he fucks you, dragging his mouth across your own, claiming you as his. “you take it so fucking well, angel, slipping right into this soaked pussy.”

his words take a moment to reach your disoriented mind, and when you try to move, you can, your hands flying to his shoulders to bring him closer. your whimpers are loud in the hollow room, and osamu loves the sound of you, drinking each little whisper in like a heavenly elixir. 

“you’re so pretty,” he says, kissing across your forehead as you arch into him. “making you feel good, hm? so fucking innocent, and i’m ruining you.” 

“mmm,” you force the sound out as osamu thrusts into you, hard against the mattress, his hips moving in a steady, fast rhythm. hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat, his brown eyes even darker in the midnight hour. 

your fingers graze across his back, between his shoulder blades, and though your touch is featherlight, he freezes, stops immediately with a loud groan as he clamps his teeth down on your shoulder. 

you breath in sync, your chests rising and falling together. “osamu?” you ask, staring up at him, his eyes pinched together tightly as he grits his teeth. 

“sensitive,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. “fuck, i’ll cum on the spot if you touch me there.” 

you blink, your haziness clearing as you let your hands fall to your sides. it takes you a moment to realize why he would curl away from your touch there, why he would—

“your wings?” you ask, and he drags his gaze back up to your’s, nodding, before dropping his head onto your collarbone. he exhales into your neck, resuming a slow, steady pace inside you. though, you place a hand on his chest, feel his erratic heartbeat. “can i see?” 

“you don’t want to.” 

you pinch your eyebrows together, but he shifts his hips, forces a cry out of you as you collapse back down against the mattress. “i do,” you argue, but he’s fucking you mercilessly, sensuous sounds echoing in the room as he attempts to distract you. “i want to.” 

he’s about to deny your request, but you let out another soft please, batting your eyelashes so sweetly. your cheeks are flushed from the heat in the room, and, for some reason, he relents, bowing his head in some sort of remorse. slowly, his wings span out across the room. 

you lose your breath for a moment as you stare at them, muddled from the feeling of him inside and the beautiful sight before you. the wings are thick, black and feathery, spanning the length of the room, casting a dark shadow over you. they’re strong and unwavering, with a sheen that could be seen only on a raven, the light turning the shades from a deep purple to green. 

“oh,” you can’t mutter anything else as he drags his tip against the sensitive spot inside you. “oh, they’re so beautiful. fuck, osamu, i can’t—”

you can’t stop yourself from touching them, dragging a gentle touch against one of the feathers. osamu cries out, groans into your mouth as your walls clench around him, sweat dripping between you as your chest presses against his own.

“shit,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “oh, i’m so close. gonna make me come, aren’t you, baby? squeezing me so fucking tight, touching me like that.” 

his eyes are hazy, and, somehow, for some reason, he’s let you have control of the situation. he kisses your face, treats you with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of, his lips so warm against your skin. 

the dark, heavy wings cage you in, falling over the two of you, and you run your fingers against them once more as you feel another orgasm creep upon you. your clit rubs against him, and your slick drips between the two of you, down your thighs as your breath catches in your throat. 

for a moment, you revel in the feeling of him deep inside you, and you close your eyes, his feathered wings so soft under your palm, letting your pleasure overtake you.

though that is short-lived as osamu pinches your jaw.

“hey,” he says gruffly, “look at me. want to see those pretty eyes of yours when you cum.” and though his eyes are soft, delicate from the way you’re stroking his wings, he sounds so mean, so possessive. “gonna fuck all my cum inside you, cause you’re mine now.”

your fingers curl around the feathers, hard as you tug him down towards you. osamu moans deep into your mouth when you clench around him, your orgasm rolling over you again as you scream his name into the blackness of the room. 

“such a good girl f’me, fuck, i—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, already filling your soaked pussy with his cum. it seeps deep inside of you, coating your walls white until he pulls out, lets his seed drip between the two of you. 

osamu presses his fingers across your face, dragging the delicate touch around your jaw, your chin as you breath heavily, still awestruck by the creature before you. you’re exhausted, sleepy, eyes hazy as you regard him with stuttered breath. 

but he doesn’t let you go, kissing you over and over again with flushed lips. “i know you can give me one more,” he says in a low voice, humming against your throat. “my perfect mortal girl. just one more, and i’ll give you whatever you want, got it, pretty?” 

your body aches, sensitive and spent, but you don’t object when he slips another finger into, kissing you hard as he lets you touch his raven wingspan. 

you’d always wanted to be an actress, anyways. 

tags: @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346

OCTOBER MASTERLIST

[alphajocklover]

Hey 😈 I wish someone would help me become a massive gay bodybuilding whore. I’m already on my way gaining weight, but I wanna be gigantic. Think you could help?

So you want to become, in your own words, a massive gay bodybuilding whore. That shouldn’t be too hard. As I’ve already shown you through my other post, there are numerous ways that people can get transformed into different types of jocks. The fact you want to specifically be a slutty gay jock does complicate things a little, since certain methods would turn you straight, but it’s still pretty simple. Instajock comes to mind as a good method for example, although I’ve talked about that app quite a bit recently and would rather discuss something new. There are many ways people can transform that I haven’t mentioned in the slightest, and your question actually brings up one I’ve been wanting to talk about for a long time. Mainly the emoji you used. Yep, for this transformation we’re going to get some help from someone very special: the Devil.

When I say the devil, I don’t really mean ‘The Devil’. Don’t get me wrong, he is a devil, but he’s not the devil from the bible. He just… works for him. I know that sounds bad, and honestly it definitely is. I don’t know much about the religious side of the magical world, but I do know that the Devil, with a capital D, does exist. He might be a fallen angel who wants to turn humanity to sin like from religious text, or he might just be a very powerful magical being using human religion to boost his own reputation, but either way he definitely exists. And just like in the old folk stories, he makes deals with people in exchange for their souls. Strangely, as the stories had spread and grown more prevalent, the demand for a deal with the Devil has actually skyrocketed. You’d think a bunch of stories about how making a deal for your soul is a bad idea would discourage people, but surprisingly it’s only increased business. Because of that the Devil’s operation has grown. The Devil is powerful, but he’s not god, he isn’t omniscient. So, to keep up with demand, he began to delegate. Instead of doing one deal at a time and seeing to every deal personally, he has a large team of demons that make deals for him. That's where my friend Nick comes in.

Nick isn’t his real name, but since humans can’t really pronounce his name he just lets me call him Nick. He is one of the more powerful demons working for the Devil, and specializes in making sexually explicit deals. As you can probably guess, he deals with a lot of people and has made a lot of deals. He’s not as outright evil as you might expect though, and he was actually a close friend of my Uncle. He had a sort of soft spot for my Uncle, and would often help him out with certain things. I don’t know how they met or why my Uncle seemed to be friends with a literal demon, but they got along really well. Now that my Uncle’s gone though, he helps me instead. I think he does it a bit out of guilt. He couldn’t protect my Uncle, his favorite mortal, from being turned into a jock, so now he protects me. Because of this I like to send him a willing victim now and then, as a thank you.

So, your first instinct is probably to say no. I mean, as much as you want to be a gay jock slut, you probably don’t want to sell your soul and be doomed to an eternity in hell. The thing is, these days they usually don’t ask for your soul. The Devil long figured out that there were more subtle ways to get what he wanted, so usually the contracts ask for something else. Sometimes it’s something significant, sometimes it’s almost nothing. Whatever it is usually works into his very complicated plans somehow in a way we almost can’t comprehend, but he never asks for your soul anymore. In exchange for becoming a massive gay bodybuilder jock, all Nick would require is… your car.

Yes, the devil wants your car. You’re probably wondering why, and honestly I don’t know. It’s not even a new car, and it’s kind of lame. But that's what he wants, and in exchange he’ll give you the body and mind of your dreams. I know you’re probably pretty skeptical, and If I’m being honest there probably is some sort of catch, but-

Oh! Ok, so, you’re doing it. I was expecting a bit more resistance but you seem pretty sure. Well, I do hope it works out for you. All you have to do is write your name on the contract and the deal will be sealed. Just write your name at the bottom there… and perfect! You’ve just made a deal with a devil!

I know you feel a little confused, but give it a second, it will pass. A sudden change in your body is always disorienting, but you’ll get used to the new you pretty quickly. I mean, look at you! You’re absolutely massive! Those arms, those pecs, those shoulders! God you really got a great deal. You get to live out your fantasy life, and all you had to do was get rid of a piece of shit car. I can’t be sure why he wanted it, but my best guess was that it’s going to cause a butterfly effect where, because your car didn’t cause a traffic jam when it broke down or something, something else will never happen. But there isn’t any use in dwelling on it anymore. You’ve made the deal, so fucking enjoy it! Go out there and have hot gay sex with as many guys as you can! You made a deal with the devil, you might as well get all you can out of it!

**hey everyone! Been a little bit! I’ve been kind of distracted and busy lately but I’m still alive and kicking! Hope you guys like this story and keep tuned for more! I also wanna make clear I am not trying to offend any religious group. I just love the deal with the devil idea.**

[heavenlyraindrops]

Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~ Teaser ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Song: Eve by Precious Pepala Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Mature Content (its Hazbin, come on guys) Smut (probably idk yet, I will of course warn before it shows up- if it does)

♱♱♱ You, the most virtuous of angels, the kindest soul that had ever graced the ground of Heaven. The Seraphim adored you, the First Man wanted you- you were everything.

You remembered the way the Seraphim had offered to create a third wife for Adam- you were there. He had stared into your eyes as he spoke, addressing the Seraphim.

“I don’t need you to make a third wife.”

You knew how highly the angels thought of you. Sera had told you repeatedly how you were completely Pure in her Judgement, her eyes sparkling with adoration for your virtue. You just smiled sheepishly and did you best to remain humble, which only made them love you more.

Which is what made your fall from grace so shocking.

♱♱♱

[Sneak Peek]

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered, the words feeling alien in your mouth as you paced your living room. Your mind ran through your earlier interaction with Emily. ♱♱♱

“Emily, what do I do if I want to… repent for something?”

Emily’s eyes flashed with concern. “Why, what did you do?”

You knew what she was thinking. Sweet [name] would never commit a sin. Sweet [name] would never have to repent.

“It was just a little thing, I just felt bad about it, and I want to- to clear my conscience.”

Emily tilted her head, her face relaxing as you assured her it wasn’t a big deal. “Sure then. Sera tells me that there’s a confessional on this street-“

You winced, visibly, and her frown reappeared again. “Or,” she continued more slowly, “you could just say a quick prayer at home. ‘Father forgive me, for I have sinned… and then say what you did. Please forgive me.’ Sound good enough for you?”

You nodded. “Thank you, Emily.” And watched her as she turned and walked away, eyes fixated unseeingly onto her back as it disappeared.

♱♱♱ You dropped to your knees as the world lurched around you. You felt like you were going to be sick.

Just say it. Just say the words.

“Father…” Your voice cracked and you trailed off. You glanced out the window, before sitting up properly and tracing the shapes of the clouds againts the glass. How could you say the prayer when you knew, that whatever had happened, you didn’t regret it?

The hollowing pit of despair in your gut only grew deeper as you thought. What would the Seraphim say? You gulped.

You closed your eyes. You couldn’t keep them closed for long- the image of Lucifer was seared across the back of your eyelids. It didn’t matter. The feel of his hand was printed on your wrist. On your waist. The warmth of his lips on yours still lingered. His eyes. Why did he have to be so beautiful? You shuddered.

You knew that you could just forget this, bury it, never visit Lucifer during the exterminations again and continue your life as an angel. But you knew, at the same time, that he was too unforgettable, and it would only be a matter of time before someone found out if you continued- because you could never, ever stop.

“Father forgive me, for I have sinned,” you forced the words out, voice shaking. “I have fallen in love with the Devil.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay tuned guys!

Note: if u want to be added to the taglist then just lmk!

Update: Chapter One is now up!

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 1

You weren't originally supposed to be in hell. You only ended up here after telling Adam you refused to be his Third wife. He was a bitter prick about it, and shoved you out of heaven. Last thing you saw as you fell, was the look of shock and regret on his face. Not that you cared. He didn't deserve your forgiveness or pity…

Next thing you knew when you opened your eyes was pain. A burning sensation from your back. Oh fuck, your wings! They- they're not supposed to bend like that! You scream in agony and despair, realizing you'd broken and bent your wings! There was no way to fly back up to heaven now!

“Someone… Someone help!” You cried out, hoping maybe somehow one of your friends in heaven could hear your prayers. But… it was pointless. No prayers from hell could ever reach heaven, not even from an angel. Now here you were… fallen.

“Whoa! That looks pretty bad.” A voice, footsteps getting closer!

“Please! I- I don't belong here!” You tried to sit up, barely managing it with a sob. You look up to see who the voice belonged to.

“I'll say, you're in my garden, almost landed in my rose bushes too.” A short man with blonde hair frowned at you with his arms crossed. “I swear, just because my wife has been off working for seven years, doesn't mean I'm magically single! How did you get in here?”

“I… fell… who are you?” He looked surprised by your words.

“Who am I?! You're kidding right?” You shook your head, and he got serious.

“where did you fall from?”

“Heaven…” He took a deep breath through his nose.

“I see…” He started walking towards you, and you started to pull your wings around to shield yourself, having forgotten they were broken. This made the firey pain flare back up! You hadn't noticed it go numb earlier, but now, you wished you hadn't moved them! You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips. It made him stop moving. 

“H- hey, I'm… I'm not gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft and low. “I promise, I just wanna help. Will you let me?” He held out his empty hands, waiting for permission before moving even a single step closer.

“Y-you still didn't answer my question. Who are you?” You had a sinking feeling…

“Me? Oh, nobody. Just the big boss of hell himself!” He chuckled at his own humor before shooting you a grin, “Call me Lucifer. And you are?”

Before you could answer, the world went dark, and you fell unconscious again.

The next time you open your eyes, you're in bed. A dream then. Thank God! But why have a nightmare about getting kicked out of heaven? Was it a warning Adam was gonna be a pissy shit when you gave him your answer today? You finally open your eyes and realize… this isn't your room. And… this isn't your bed! You sit up, wings curling around yourself as a shield and looking around frantically! Everything was extravagant and gilded! Some kind of palace suite? Then… oh. OH FUCK! YOU REALLY DID MEET LUCIFER!

“Oh hey, you're up! Great, hungry? I made pancakes.” The devil himself entered the room with a syrup soaked stack, steaming and fresh. Before you could refuse him, your stomach growled loudly, answering for you.

“I didn't think the devil would cook his own meals…” was all you could think to say. He set the tray in front of you, there was even a glass of juice.

“Why wouldn't I? Best way to make sure no one poisons me! Haha, not that it'd actually kill me.” He smiled, “oh, and you're welcome for healing you by the way. Once you're done eating, you can head back on up home.” He smiled and made a wing flapping motion with his arms. You giggle, it was kind of cute. He was so tiny, and handsome in a cute way. Not at all how heaven described him.

“You're… different from how heaven said you'd be.” You say, before eating some of the food he'd been generous enough to share. They were apple flavored.

“Oh really? And how is heaven describing me to you younger angels these days?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. 

“They said you would be cruel. Take joy in the pain and suffering of others. That you didn't know how to laugh or smile, only how to hate and hurt… but, you just proved all of that wrong.”

Lucifer was shocked, “I… that's how they think of me? My own siblings are telling people this?” He looked hurt, gripping a hand to his heart. “Mikey and Gabe… they know I'm not… that I'd never…”

You got up from the bed, you couldn't stand seeing him like this, on the edge of tears from your own words! You should have found a gentler way to… ah fuck it, too late for that now. You pull him into a hug, wrapping your wings around him.

“I'm sorry.” You kept your tone soft and genuine, and that seemed to be the last straw. He hugged back and started bawling into your shoulder! 

Now here you are, fallen from heaven, showing sympathy to the devil. You rubbed his back in soothing circles. “It's alright, let it all out, I got you.”

You weren't originally supposed to be in hell, but it didn't seem like such a bad place to be really.

(This was written for a very dear friend of mine. She's crazy for Lucifer, and I'm crazy about her so... yeah! Hope you all like it as much as she has!)

[skuttlesstrawberry]

Sometimes Brennan’s degree in religious studies shines through in an awe-inspiring way. Take, for example, the Temple of the Fallen Sun from episode 17 of Fantasy High Junior Year: it is explicitly an imperial temple. Now, the obvious level is that its symbols are all about conquest, but on a deeper level, its very nature is an imperial conquest.

The reveal, towards the end of the Bad Kids’ time in the temple, that the Sunstone Empire did not originally build this place is also a reflection of the imperial project. It took a faith that was life-giving for its people and twisted it into something foul, something that in D&D was explicitly infernal, but it could not completely erase the underlying divinity. At the end, they could not remove the underlying uncorrupted temple infrastructure; at the end, they could not twist Ankarna’s core nature so much that she would be willing to kill her sister or her spouse. The imperial faith of conquest can take over a religion, Brennan seems to be telling us, but it cannot fully transform the spark of divinity at the core of the original faith.

So let’s now talk about Spyre’s Church of Sol.

Maybe it wasn’t planned that way, but the longer the Fantasy High saga goes on, the more clear it seems to me that the Church of Sol is in many ways the greater scope villain of the Bad Kids’ tale. For Junior Year, it’s not just that complete slimebag Bobby Dawn, the Church of Sol’s resident celebrity cleric, is actively onside with Porter’s plan to ascend to godhood; it’s also that in the Temple of the Fallen Sun, the Legend Lore spell told us that it was the Church of Sol who planted the idea with the Sunstones of transforming their god from a sun god to a god of war and conquest!

Note, importantly, that it is the Church of Sol and not Sol himself who planted this idea. Legend Lore told us that, actually, Sol himself was HAPPY with (re)uniting the various groups of Spyre’s gods into one community. Rather, it was Sol’s church that noticed their God’s domain was divided and decided to do something about it. Recall, also, that it was the Church of Sol that innovated Devil’s Nectar; it’s entirely possible that Sol was deliberately kept out of the loop when it came to the church’s plans to make him into the One True Sun God.

Now, we also know that there’s a kind of henotheistic trinity-like thing going on with Sol, Gallicaea, and Helio. There’s some sort of family thing going on with Sol as the top Father God and Helio as the Crystal Dragon Jesus son with the serial numbers filed off; witness the decidedly evangelical Christianity flavor of their related churches. There’s also the whole vibe from both the Church of Sol and Helio’s followers that their gods are the only correct deities to follow and any other faith (or way of life) is Dangerously Wrong. This plays directly into the way that they really kicked off the chaos of Freshman Year and therefore the Bad Kids saga.

Yeah, Kalvaxus was the big bad of Freshman Year, but he and his direct minions weren’t the first enemies that the Bad Kids fought. That would be Doreen and the Corn Cuties, who were themselves borne of the attempt by Coach Daybreak and the Harvestmen cult to corrupt their own faith’s chosen and break the world.

This is actually deeply important: while Kristen’s parents are assholes and directly tied to a doomsday cult version of Helioic faith, there’s always been an implication that beyond the Harvestmen there’s a healthier version of the church of Helio that we haven’t really been able to interact with. And that’s okay: even a healthier version of Helio probably wouldn’t have been healthy for Kristen, given the extent of religious trauma she’s had to deal with, so it makes sense that even in Freshman year Kristen was being offered by Heaven itself alternate ways to have faith.

In Sophomore Year, we got a glimpse of the conflict within Gallican faith, with Tracker discovering in Fallinel a more oppressive and passive version of her faith, and choosing essentially to stay behind to try and breathe new life into it. Importantly, we learned Fallinel Gallicaea has a relationship with Sol, and so their churches are intertwined; Brennan even talked in Sophomore Year about how Gallicaea in Fallinel was being shaped by her State Church followers there. It was that twisted Gallican church that duped Cassandra’s original followers into forcing her transformation into the Nightmare King, you may recall.

What this all seems to be pointing to is the existence of an organization entwined with the Church of Sol that discovered Devil’s Nectar and a way to twist divinity to their ends by manipulating followers into the shapes most suiting their ends. We know from Pok Gukgak’s cautious statements that even the celestial-level actors have some side eye for Sol’s supposed followers. We know from Bakur that there’s an open question as to whether Sol or his followers are REALLY calling the shots. So: if Sol’s followers have their own plans, what’s their goal in all this corruptive influence that they’ve been spreading around?

Now, here’s where we circle back around to Brennan’s knowledge of how real world religions and real world people work: the goal may simply be power and domination. In the real world, the connection between the State and some sort of organized Church power has always been a place where power and control could be minted. A cornerstone of the Roman Empire’s system of control was the idea of the Imperial Cult: you can absolutely continue worshipping your personal god as long as you also acknowledge that god’s place is subservient in the larger Roman order to Rome’s chosen divinity. On the other side of the world, China’s system emphasized having the Mandate of Heaven in order to rule; even their top divinity the August Personage of Jade would lose his job if he did not stay within the rules of the system.

In short: a group of folks who’ve figured out how to manipulate faith to make their positions indisputably Right are very dangerous in any world, and Brennan is absolutely correct to cast them as the villains behind the scenes manipulating everything.

[heartfullofleeches]

*sigh* incubus reader pulling jeremiah out of the microwave and into the empty corridors of the church for an impromptu dance before dipping him and leaving before the old man can get a proper kiss

"Mr. Priest~ Spend time with me, won't you? I'm bored to tears."

"Mhm." Jeremiah pays you little mind as he snuffs out varying candles, pausing to stroke your horns as your paths cross. "Patience, my dear. You will have more of my time than you know what to do with soon."

You groan. This man converts your last meal into a member of his weird cult, forces them to break contract with you, and creates one of his own only to never have any fun. Sure he threatened to slaughter your entire race for not complying, but honestly that feels like the better option in opposite to this bore of a nightmare.

"But I wanna play now. The souls you give are nice, but I'm wasting away here."

You hop off the bench you whine upon, snaking your hands around Jeremiah's neck as you jump on his back. "Just think about all the things we can do. You may not be human anymore, but I know your desires. I've seen you undressing me with those eyes of yours... As if you playing keep away with me and your flock isn't clue enough for how obsessed you are with me."

Jeremiah swallows hard as your fangs nip his earlobe; claws caught in the chain of his cross. A self made man of the God shouldn't give into such temptations, but Jeremiah now had his own ways regarding worship. Still, he could not submit to you just yet for he still needed to rewrite the wrongs of his fallen Lord and remake the world into a place worthy of your combined grace.

Being a holy disciple truly was the greatest burden to bare.

"Just hold on a little longer for me...." Jeremiah kisses the back of your hand before ripping himself free of your hold. He walks over to a record player and grabs a vinyl from a crate on the floor.

"Enjoy some music until I am done."

You try your best to, but even the man's taste in music is boring. Some classical piece better fit for a ball rather than a technical date between a demon and a priest. You tap your foot along to the rhythm for an attempt at find some solace in the beat, a devilish grin working up your face as an idea pops into mind.

You creep up behind Jeremiah.

"Y/n, I said wait- What? What on earth are you doing? Let go."

You tug on the collar of his robes as you grip his shoulder, spinning him around to face you. The look on tour face makes his decrepit heart flutter, and anxiety levels to rise. You place an arm behind his back and grab hold of his wrist as you twirl across the floor to the center of the room.

Jeremiah hisses. "Y/n this is not funny. I am a very busy man."

"Aw, come on. I've been around for a couple hundred years and with whatevers going on with you you'll be here for a while too. Live a little."

You wrap your tail around his waist to prevent him from escaping, chest bumped up against his. The close proximity leaves Jeremiah with little choice but to subcome to your influence- nor does his will. He follows your lead as your steps slow and steady into a waltz.

"See? Now you're getting into it."

"Quiet." Jeremiah rests his hand on the curve of your spine and completely shuts off any distance between you; your laughter the sweet cry of angels as it plays in his ear. A little tame compared to what you orginally had in mind, but it wasn't so bad. You slow dance together for a while until the devil in you decides to have some more fun.

You lead Jeremiah near the benches before securing your hand on the center of his back and twisting your tail down to his calf to further throw him off balance as you drip him low. You stare into each other's eyes; your body guiding his into the seat before you mount the man as you work your fingers into his bleached locks. He closes his eyes as you drawn in, his reward for his obedience a single lick.

"See you later, Jeremiah."

The weight disappears from his lap and you from his sight as he opens his eyes. Jeremiah growls in frustration.

"Y/n? Y/n, get back here at once!"

No response - your giggles echoing from a far corner of the church. Jeremiah follows the sound of your voice. By the time he's done with you, hell would be a paradise you'd never see again.

[arthenaa]

Dark Red - Sebastian x gn!reader x Ominis

PLOT SUMMARY: while the world perceives the heavens and the underworld as realms clashing against one another in pursuit of building a world for their philosophies, the truth is that change is not so far beyond them. Especially when an angel and a demon begin competing against one another to pursue one of the overseers of purgatory: you.

WARNINGS: fluff, a bit of crack, reader is a heavenly figure, devil! seb, angel! ominis, sebastian and ominis r simps for you, ominis and sebastian are also dense af w each other, imagine not being aware that ur in love with the person u want to kill so bad, reader is both wingman, love interest, and just unbothered as fuck, ominis is referenced to be gabriel, modern setting, angels and demons are in an office setting its kinda funny, you're a tired girl boss just trying to make sense why these two idiots keep visiting you during work hours, God is kinda not happy w that, heavy christian ideologies and imagery, religious references, references to demons and the underworld, inaccurate and fictional connections of religious terms and biblical figure, norse terms cuz y not

TERMS: Highgard = Heaven, MidPath / Middle Path = Purgatory, Underworld = Hell, Fallen = devils / demons, Midgard = Earth

note: heya hihi <3 doing this in the midst of writing comms so that my head can get a break ueue. also a little celebration for my 20th bday and having 1M followers! tysm for enjoying my writing hehe. ive been thinking of this prompt for the past few days. anys enjoy <3 lmk if yall dig this kind of concept. did not proofread cuz im too lazy ig.

Whenever lost souls wander in the abyss, more often than not their questions pertain to one subject of interest.

What happens in purgatory?

It happens more than one can count—a series of experiences with those who have reached the end of the light, one can only deduce the general curiosity of humanity with the realm that keeps the heavens and the underworld in balance.

What is purgatory? While humans believe it to be a place of penance and purification, one would like to think of it as a place of sorting. A waiting room if one would find it amusing enough to resort in humor.

At least to Ominis anyway.

Ominis considers himself to be knowledgeable enough of the inner workings of the realms. He, after all, is one of the honored beings who got to work closely with the Lord. He proudly can say that he's done a lot for the glory of his creator to know things beyond what a normal being can perceive. He's a protector of the light and life that Yahweh brings.

However, there are still things he can't help but be curious about—like the cycle of good and evil with humans. Despite countless tries and efforts to save them from damnation, humanity still somehow finds itself on the brink of chaos. Despite that, their perceptions of the unknown continue to become more and more entertaining by the day.

Another is their perceptions of heaven and hell. Their enigmatic portraits and artistic interpretations fuel their imaginative ideals, influenced values, and understanding of the heavenly principles. While Ominis truly admires their dedication and faith in creating an ethereal image of the divine, the contrasting imagery of perception and reality somehow prompts a chuckle from this old man's lips.

If they knew the changes of the worlds beyond them, they might just have to change everything they know about it.

For starters, suits are mandatory. Everyone wears it here. It's become a staple for simplicity and formality. There are of course no limits to styling it but the suit and tie are a must.

Second, there are no conflicts between demons and angels. Well at least now. After coming to a proper agreement between the creator and the fallen, a civilized community has been built. Each is filled with roles and duties fit to serve the balance of the universe.

Third, it is exactly what you think it is. Desks filled to the brim with paperwork, scritching of pen against paper, and chattering of workers here and there. Highgard has become a modern-day office. Ominis hates the coffee on the 10th floor.

The archangel has already surrendered himself to normalcy, adapting to a new era of management and control. While this does seem to be more simpler and adept compared to the olden days, he does miss the times when he could feel the holy aura of his spear strike through a fallen's heart. In today's context, that's considered murder.

Now what does this relate to purgatory? As mentioned before Ominis still has a lot of things to be curious about and one of them are the things that happen within the walls of the Middle Path.

Specifically, the overseers.

While yes, he is considered to be at the top of the hierarchy. The overseers seem to nullify the authority of those at the top. Only the creator seems to have control over them, otherwise, they're at most the next level of superiority to him.

("The Horsemen of the Apocalypse," His brother, Nier, had mentioned as he leaned against the counter—stirring a cup of coffee with a wooden stick. "He placed them there to keep the balance. It's a land for neither the dead nor the living–a middle ground. They're natural seeds of chaos, of course. It's innate for them to destroy worlds with life and what better way to keep them at bay than to place them in the neutral zone?"

"I see," Ominis hums, fingers tapping at the desk as he leans back against his seat. Nier glances at him before throwing the wooden stirrer in the trash.

"What's got you interested in the overseers, Omi?" The nickname prompts a curl of his lips. Count Nier to be sentimental. The raven-haired man sips quietly as he awaits his response.

"Nothing," He replies. "It's just that out of all the realms, they seem to be less affected by the change."

Nier chuckles, taking a few steps forward to place a caring hand on his shoulder. "It's a place for judgment. We have too much love for humans while the fallen are too detached. The overseers are driven from humanity, they understand them better.")

The words of his brother ring within the depths of his mind, each making a resounding echo as he walks across the white halls.

To tell you the truth, this sudden interest in the middle path was formed not so long ago. A chain of events that prompted a burst of interest from this heavenly figure.

These series of events had formed a routine. There were 3 important things that you need to take note of in this scene.

One, the hallway Ominis is currently on is a bridge from Highgard to the gateway to the Middle Path. It's mostly known to be a connector and pathway for demons, angels, and any heavenly figure with the right permit.

Two, at the end of every hall, is a vending machine that serves coffee. Now, vending machines are not scarce in their company services. In fact, there are at least 5 machines stationed in every building. So, Ominis is quite sure that MidPath has more than enough vending machines to serve a batch of souls.

Third, at exactly 3 PM in Midgardian Time, there are approximately only two figures seen roaming about the halls of the connector.

One is Ominis himself and two, you guessed it.

An overseer.

Ominis walks toward the vending machine, slipping in a few coins before punching in his desired coffee. He takes a breath and takes a look at his watch. Just then, as the shorthand strikes the 15th, he hears the familiar click and clack of heels against the marble tiles.

They're here.

He hears them clear and perfect. The rustling of clothes against one another, the brush of their hands against the fabric, and that same walking rhythm.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

Count Ominis to be a little obsessed but you really can't help but be interested in such a being. Neither angel nor demon—a seed of humanity so pure to the core that one horseman can produce an apocalypse.

An event personified.

It wasn't even God that made them but a natural occurence to life.

How interesting.

He hears the click of their shoes stop beside him, waiting for the brewing of his coffee. There were a few beats of silence, and the only thing Ominis could hear at that moment was the thumping of his heart.

"Gabriel," The overseer greets him, placing their hands behind the small of their back as they wait for their turn.

"Conquest." He greets back. The seed chuckles and heaves a sigh before silence ensues once more.

Same two words. Same format. Repeated for God knows how long he's been doing this. He punches in a latte, wishing the coffee would drip slower but heaven services always work out no matter what and so he gets his cup of coffee within 20 seconds.

He grabs the cup, sidesteps to the left, and takes a sip. The overseer steps forth, punching in their regular. Iced Caramel Macchiatto. The order takes the same time. 20 seconds.

They take the cup with swift movement before turning and making their way back to their department.

Once again, Ominis stands in the deserted hallways–a cup of coffee in his hands and another same old conclusive deduction of one of the horsemen of the apocalypse.

Coffee is an angel's desperation and fuel for conquest.

Ominis doesn't know what to feel about demons.

Beings natural to the abyss—they represent everything opposite to that of life. They thrive in the concepts of darkness, both figuratively and literally. Ominis is well aware of the millenniums he endured seeing the dust of broken horns and seething snakes crumble under his spear. He, after all, has seen everything from the moment the Lord has gathered his army to rule his rightful claim over his creations.

However, there are times like this when he decides it's okay. Demons are okay.

"I think there's a prejudice against smaller horns," Amit grumbles as he spreads a thin sheet of mayonnaise on his bread. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips formed into a pout. Ominis curls his lips at the tone of his voice. "Mine are perfectly well-sized! I-I don't see why this should be a problem at all."

"You're making it a problem, that's the issue," Ominis hears Poppy chime from his left. Amit glares at her response. Poppy's feathers ruffle as she stretches them out, flapping her wings gently to ease the tension on her shoulders.

The three of them were currently in the communal room. The day was slow and there were not many souls to be bustling and carrying on about. Ominis considers days like these a blessing and it was also partially because it was nearing Sunday.

Amit reaches his free hand and touches the spike of his horns. "My mother gave me these horns. I just think people are jealous."

"You're right," Poppy chimes as she tilts her head to give him a mocking smile. "Amit is always right. Can we talk about something else now?"

"You're too mean for a Principality."

"You're too much of a loser for a fallen," Poppy retorts with a nonchalance that almost prompts a chuckle out of Ominis. The demon gasps in shock which the angel giggles at.

"Just because we're on break and one of you is my superior-" Sharp glare comes from Poppy. "-doesn't mean I won't reprimand you two," Ominis cuts forth their humorous conversation with a stern approach. Poppy pouts while Amit grumbles. Then the blonde contorts his face into a wistful look. "However, I'm in a good mood so I'll let it be."

"Oho!" Poppy grins as she scoots her chair closer to him. "You do look even more dashing today, Ominis. What's got you in a good mood, hm? Perhaps, a promotion from upstairs?"

It was actually because he was able to, yet again, interact with the overseer but no one has to know about that.

Amit, ever the inquisitive being that he is, leans forward with raised eyebrows. "Are you in for a promotion to be in the middle order? I hear things start to get weird in that division."

"That's because most of the higher-ups don't look like us," Poppy responds with a bite of her sandwich. Ominis nods with his eyes closed. "At least in the middle and low. Both divisions were made to be accepting to the human eye, most specifically the low order. Ascending that high reveals true nature. The same goes for your monarchs."

Amit hums at the knowledge. While Ominis truly wants the opportunity to serve Adonai directly, he does feel worried about seeing his true self when ascending into a powerful duty. He supposes being an Archangel is too perfect of a role for him to let go of.

"Nah, I don't think I'm that holistic yet," Ominis responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "I still have a lot to do as Adonai's blade."

Just as the conversation resumed its course at the prompt of his response, a pair of cold hands makes its way to his shoulders—the tip of its finger brushing ever so softly against the skin of his neck. Ominis shivers but he does not let it affect him. Although his jaw clenches at the arrival of whoever this is.

"And what of Adonai's blade?" The voice asks, cunning and cool. "Does he perhaps fancy a cup of coffee?"

The arrival alerts the low-ranking figures beside him, pursing their lips in silence as they stare at the figure behind him.

"Leviathan," Ominis announces his presence. The brunette-headed monarch smiles at his true name.

"Mm," The demon hums. He taps his finger against the collar of Ominis's coat. "As much as I like hearing that name off of your lips, I prefer being called Sebastian."

Ah. Yes. This is what Ominis means when he says he's not okay with Demons. When he misses the feeling of his heavenly spear darting through the backs of the fallen.

No offense to Amit. He's too wonderful to be a spawn of a monarch but beings like Sebastian are what he means when he's overcome by a terrible urge to fulfill his original purpose.

He's fought him before. Countless times actually. In the Great Wars of Light and Dark—the famed descent of the Son of Man into the world is tainted with the hands of the fallen. They were carefree and manipulated life freely in their own hands as if it were toys.

Levia–Sebastian, rather, had always been a figure in both the underworld and highgard. A figure of snakes that classified demons as a whole. He was an icon to many and a formidable foe to most. He was surely one of Ominis's favorite things to drive a spear through.

Unfortunately for him, demons never die. They only go back to either hell or earth. A never-ending cycle of death. He supposes this is why the Lord has agreed in a civil approach with the beings of the dark.

"He's surely thinking of ways to murder me, no?" Sebastian sighs dreamily as he sits on the empty chair to his right. Poppy hesitantly laughs while Amit falls silent at his superior. Sebastian then turns to the two.

"Principality," He nods to Poppy, "Comrade" Amit. "If I may, can I please have a few minutes to talk to dearest Ominis? I just have a few things to discuss with him with regards to a war brewing up north in Midgard."

He beams, like the ever-so-manipulative nature of his character. The two sigh, gathering their food before moving to another table, a few meters away from them. It's better to just follow through with a monarch like Sebastian. He somehow has the irritable charm that allows him to get anything that he wants. Ominis is not surprised if he receives another harassment ticket for just existing.

"Was it so important for you to disrupt my leisure time?" Ominis grumbles at him. Sebastian chuckles, placing his elbows on the metal surface of the table. He intertwines his hands and perches his chin on top of it.

"And here I thought you loved that dear little humanity of yours."

"Please," Ominis scoffs, crossing his left knee over his right. He crosses his arms over his chest. "The last thing you'd do is be desperate enough to ask someone like me for help. Disasters are your expertise. What do you want?"

Just like that, Ominis has him cornered. Not that Sebastian would mind that since this is what he originally came for in the first place. Those ruby eyes that seem to never leave the Archangel pairs with a devilish smile before sighing. "Am I ever so deceitful that you think I'm asking for help with a catch?"

"Yes." Ominis answers plainly.

The demon rolls his eyes. "Right sure". There are a few beats of silence before Sebastian speaks once more. "I came here to confirm something with you."

Ominis hums, not bothered to direct his full attention towards Sebastian. He learned enough that wasting his time and attention in believing uncivilized monarchs like Sebastian is just a fiasco waiting to happen. He tries to take some of it in but never really injects full effort to do what they want. After all, his job only entailed in keeping peace and order within the flow of time in the human realm. What demons do is out of the question.

Sebastian hums beside him before speaking. "Do they like tea?"

Ominis stiffens in his seat. "What?"

The demon grins at finally grasping the old man's attention. "I said do they like tea?"

"Who likes what?" The angel is beyond confused. Who?

"Oh come on, Riel," The nickname pops a vein on his forehead. The demon leans close to whisper. "I mean that friend of yours in the gateway."

Ominis finally tenses at the revelation. How the fuck did this guy manage to find out about that?! He subtly turns his face towards the sound of his voice. He doesn't find it in him to reply as the demon prompts a few chuckles from his lips.

"I'm quite excited to be meeting them next time," Sebastian lets out a grunt as he stretches up from his seat and finally stands. He places his hands inside the pockets of his slacks, smiling down at the tense Archangel. "15th of the hour, right?"

"You're insufferable," Ominis grumbles under his breath as the man laughs at his demise.

"You're not the only one interested, Ominis." Sebastian smirks before turning and making way to the exit of the communal room. The clacking of his shoes do not produce the same satisfaction as the seed of Conquest.

He let's out a groan as he indefinitely will have to deal with Sebastian later on. His little interactions with them had been his highlights of the week. Not everyone can have the opportunity to come across a horseman of the apocalypse. Sebastian had to go ruin his little moments of peace.

How can his day get any better?

Ominis is exactly 10 mins earlier than the designated time.

The hallway is deserted and the air conditioning is functioning at its highest. It's safe to say that he's been paranoid ever since Sebastian had made his interest in one of the seeds of chaos. He doesn't know how exactly he knew but he wasn't going to take any chances in allowing him to steal his spot.

Even though the aftermath of 5 lattes a week proves to be quite detrimental to the linings of his stomach.

It's fine. He's immortal anyway.

He swings back and forth on his heels as he waits for the clock to strike the 3rd. He's not sure why he's more nervous today and only hopes that maybe it's because of the damn lemonades Amit brought this morning because her mother had made too much. Bless her soul.

He sees the shorthand of his watch finally strike the 15th hour of the day before he hears the same click-clacking of heels against the tile floor. At the prompt of their arrival, he immediately brings out a couple of his spare coins and begins punching in his latte. He waits, hands tucked in his slacks, at the familiar greeting of their voice.

However, things seems to be way different today.

"Ah, so it's more of your role to be the judge, right?" An all too familiar voice disrupts him off his reprieve. He tenses at the added presence. "Where to place the souls and all that."

"Yes," Conquest hums, a bit detached but their interest in the conversation is there. "I allow passage based on their time of living. The same goes for my siblings."

Ominis's jaw clenches as he hears the fake facade of gasps of interests and the unrhythmic pattern of another's footsteps. Sebastian.

"That's so interesting-!"

"What are you doing here, Sebastian?" Ominis grits under his breath as the pair finally reach his vicinity. Sebastian smirks at the presence of the Archangel.

"Ah, I just passed by Midpath to pass some documents and caught Y/N over here walking towards the gateway," Sebastian coolly responds as he glances at them with a smile. "It's not every day you'd get to talk to a seed outside of their workspace. Your department is the busiest after all."

If he hated Sebastian before, he hates him even more now.

"Ah yes, Leviathan was kind enough to keep me company," Conquest responds. If they were both alone right now, he would've collapsed. This is the most he's talked to them and he can't even handle it on his own. What a joke.

"Please! Just Sebastian is fine," The demon chimes in with a gleeful tone. "Are you well acquainted with Gabriel?"

Ominis is not sure what Sebastian is planning but the demon sure as hell is enjoying this little charade.

"Mhm," Ominis answers for them. "W-We always get coffee here."

"Ah," Sebastian nods. "How adorable. Must be honorable for you, hm? Keeping this little interaction for yourself."

There's something in his tone that seethes at him—buried under layers and layers of fake smiles and enthusiasm. Ominis wants to strangle him but he has to keep up with the expression. After all, despite ruining his moment, this is the most he's spoke to Y/N—he can call them Y/N right?

"Right," Sebastian seems to have read his thoughts. "This is Y/N. Have I mentioned that?"

"Clearly," Ominis grits his teeth. The seed of conquest, ignorant of the tension between two side steps to reach the vending machine. They notice the finished latte siting lonely, perched on top of its container.

"Ominis." They call for his attention. The blonde's breath shifts. Oh Heavens, they said my name. He knows he shouldn't panic or else that would look weird and so he awkwardly turns towards her with a tense look on his face.

Y/N only stares at him with vague interest before grabbing his hand and gently placing the cup of coffee in his grasp. "Your latte," They say.

"T-Thank you." He speaks as if that's the first time he's ever held hands with a handsome person. Y/N then turns to punch in their order, opting for a hot option instead of their usual cold beverage.

Without speaking the duo watch as they tilt their head back with mild interest, waiting for their coffee, hears the familiar ding of the machine, grab their order—gives not one of them a glance and only makes way back to their department.

There's a few beats of silence—the only background noise being the whirling of the air conditioner from the vents. They're both oddly entranced by what just happened.

Sebastian shifts in his position as he turns slowly towards Ominis with a slightly curled up smile.

"Is it normal to be this turned on?"

"You're fucking weird."

Ominis doesn't know what's happening.

There's this weird competitive aura between him and Sebastian ever since that altercation last week and it's as if who can interact the most with Y/N had been set as a competition between the two of them.

He's not really the one to complain since his pride enjoyed the stakes of a competition. However, his dignity has doubled down and screeched and clawed at his mind—begging for this to be done and over with.

He admits. He might have been a little too interested in the seed of conquest but that's what he wanted it to stay as! It was already good enough for him that he was able to interact with them on a weekly basis but now, he's not so sure if he can back out of this one.

Sebastian had been a bit too overwhelming in his efforts to gain their attention. From Underworld cuisine to Highgard flowers and even Midgardian music. He's done it all. The bastard is a monarch after all and so his pay is a little bit higher than his but who cares about that?! Ominis thinks he's utterly unfair in trying to squeeze his way through his and Y/N's leisure time of getting coffee.

He too... has tried several ways to... Y'know. To just keep with the nature of competition. He comes out of his breaks a little early so he can actually try and catch up with them for a walk. Made them sweets here and there. Made sure he was done with his work so he can assist in helping out with Y/N's paperwork. If it's not much obvious—Yes, Ominis is very competitive.

The unspoken attention war had stretched out over the course of the next few weeks. A few co-workers had begun to notice Ominis and Sebastian's odd behavior. It was odd enough that a monarch is lounging in Highgard departments but no one really gave a fuck enough to care.

(Unless it's Imelda, Poppy, and Amit.

"Is the coffee in the gateway really that great? Or do they just have a fucked up death wish of a diarrhea for ordering at least 10 cups of coffee a week?" Imelda grumbles from her spot at one of the tables in the communal room as the three had full-on front seats to Ominis and Sebastian pushing each other and racing for the double doors.

Poppy sighs beside her. The Principality had also noticed the suspiciously efficient work of Ominis. While the Archangel was organized and efficient enough to accomplish his work on time, the speed of doing such works even if it was weeks away on the assigned deadline was far too suspicious.

"They say they're pining over a married Dominions officer," Amit chimes in from his eating galore of glazed donuts. Imelda glances at her co-worker with a crunch of her nose.

"If you were human, that would've already killed you."

"I could possess one if you want?" Amit jokes to which the two angels snap their heads to glare at him. "Right, my bad.")

"They like tulips more than whatever that is." Sebastian grumbles as he assesses the disarray of sunflowers, roses, and whatever Ominis picked up from Midgard. The blonde rolls his eyes at his quips.

"As if giving them tea was enough," Ominis seethes. "I'd have you know that they actually dislikes tea—especially chamomile."

"You sure do know everything, huh?" Sebastian retorts as he takes a step forward. "If I remember correctly, It was because of me that you were given an opportunity to talk to them in the first place."

Ominis scoffs. "Oh, get off your high horse. I would've talked to them either way!"

"You'd take millennia to even do that," Sebastian chuckles, tone mocking and sarcastic.

"Says who?"

"Says me," Sebastian raises his eyebrows, taunting him. "You couldn't even put a spear through my heart if it hit you right in the face."

Ominis tenses. "What nonsense—!"

"Blah blah!" Sebastian taunts like a child. If anyone were to see both of them, they would surely have a field day in the office. A monarch and an Archangel fighting over someone. What a gossip. "I know you always miss the shot. Always a centimeter off, an inch short, a few limbs past—You're too soft. Even for someone like me."

Ominis breath hitches at the revelation. It's true that among all the Archangels, He was considered to be the most accurate out of all of them. That's why he preferred long-range fights, hitting enemies with his spear through a distance. But Sebastian is Ominis's first short-range duel and he's always been meant to fight Ominis after that. Somehow, he always manages to fail killing him, allowing a millennia's worth of suffering because of it.

His brothers would give him comfort and reassurance that someday, he'd be able to strike him off. However, despite countless opportunities, he's managed to fail every single one. He doesn't have the heart in him to admit that he's purposely missing the target because who would believe an Angel having mercy over a fallen?

He has too much pride to admit that.

Somehow over the long silence emitted from Ominis's lack of response, a cough alerts them of a new presence. The two turn around to meet Y/N, standing ever so casually behind them.

"Are you two done?" Y/N tilts their head, eyes half-lidded and a cigarette hanging off their lips. They take a short and swift inhale before pulling the stick from their lips and blowing it towards the two.

The smoke causes them to flinch back and cough. The seed of Conquest takes this opportunity to breeze through and punch in their order from the vending machine.

"Y'know, for a couple of idiots, you two sure are dense as hell," Y/N chuckles as they tilt their head to the side—glancing at them with a smile. They extend their hand holding the cigarette, tapping it towards the trash can situated near the machine. They eye him with vague interest. "A millennia. A fucking millennia—Not even one but a couple actually—" Y/N takes a hit of the cigarette. "That's amazing."

The seed of Conquest blows another whiff of the stick and this time, the duo are prepared at the scent of the chemicals.

"I-I'm sorry, what are you talking about?" Ominis asks, pressing his need for clarification. Sebastian remains silent beside him.

Y/N grins underneath the fingers that snugly carry the stick between their lips. "You two."

"Us?" Sebastian raises an eyebrow.

"You seriously never thought about this? Y/N raises an amused eyebrow. The silence after confirms their thought which prompts a gleeful giggle from their lips.

Sebastian and Ominis take a pause to revel in the beauty of their laughter.

The seed of conquest then takes a step forth and gingerly presses an index finger against Sebastian's chest, "You keep finding him," Then Ominis, "You keep avoiding the inevitable," They then take a step back, taking a whiff of the cigarette before exhaling. "Doesn't it ring a bell, hm?"

It takes at least 25 seconds for the two to come to a realization. Both take it quite differently. Ominis pales while Sebastian flushes. Y/N thinks the colors contrast quite beautifully.

"How adorable," They coo before the machine finally beeps. They take their coffee with ease and take a few steps towards the two fumbling idiots. They lean close, whispering into their ears in the space between them. "Next time you two try and disrupt my work hours, I'll have you know that I can purposefully trap you in a never-ending time loop of a prison. Got that?"

The two nod carefully at their words before Y/N smiles and pats their shoulders. They make quick steps back towards their department before suddenly pausing and turning quickly with a smile.

"Also, you're both wrong," Y/N sighs as they tuck their hands inside the pockets of their coat. "I prefer Baby's-breath and milktea is my preferred choice of drink. 50% sugar with boba."

The two gape at her information. They tilt their head with a smirk, strands of hair falling ever so perfectly against their face.

"Do it right and maybe I'll agree to be taken by the two of you on a date."

And just as she says it, she leaves with the elegance and swiftness of a heavenly figure. The two couldn't even sneak a word in with what just happened, only grasping their gifts apologetically within their hands. In just a matter of a few minutes, Y/N has yet again made them speechless.

Not that the two of them would complain. There's just something about them that just leaves a breath of awe whenever Ominis and Sebastian get a chance to interact with the seed of Conquest.

Sebastian turns toward the Ominis who licks his lips in thought. "They did just say both right?"'

"Yes, Sebastian. They did."

"Are you in love with me?"

"I—"

"I think I'm in love with you," Sebastian hums, thoughtfully as if he's taking a pick which menu he'll be eating for lunch today. "I think maybe I am."

It's times like this that Ominis thinks that demons are insufferable. But then that's their charm, no? Having the ability to continuously infuriate you despite the circumstance. Ominis thinks that maybe he can try to live with that. After all, a couple of millennia with Sebastian had already been proven to be quite a taxing experience—what more a couple more years could do?

If Ominis could answer the questions of the lost souls that venture their interests in the realms beyond them, there's one thing he could definitely answer.

That demons are pricks and also can be the love of your life (you just maybe haven't noticed it yet because you're too busy driving a spear through his heart!), there's a hot overseer he can't stop thinking of, and that angels can also have gay panics.

How livid would humans be when they find out about this?

Well, I guess we'll never know.

A/N: yieeee im 20 now!! HBD TO ME!! (my bday was on the 4th, I was just too busy to post this) I hope y'all enjoyed this! Will consider doing a part two for this baby (NSFW if it has good views teehee) lmk!! love y'all!

[nadianova]

How much time do you spend planning some of your visual novels? At least going by some of them being jam submissions, it feels like you go from pre-production to a finished build very quickly, and it's amazing how you can manage that while still having an awesome story and so many assets.

Also, what is like, the process of planning a story out for you, if there's any vague or concrete similarities that you've noticed?

i think the important context here is that if i get bored/have nothing to do i jhust immediately get really suicidal its like ridiculous how bad it gets(ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT IVE HAD 5 YEARS OF THERAPY). so i hate being bored and want to occupy my time wit something fun whatever that is. if i have a project to focus on but especially if I'm working for a game jam i have a deadline and i just decide to myself okay i will release a game now.

because ive made a decent amount of games i roughly have an idea on my capabilities, i can estimate how long it takes for me to write a story so and so long and how long it takes for me to draw stuff i need and how long it takes for me to throw stuff in renpy. these are estimates like as in I'm not accurate with it but still enough that i generally know where to start cutting ideas since the most important part is just having something to submit. i also know to plan around my brain wanting to slam my head into a wall an my hands suddenly giving up on being able to draw.

i think thats the beauty of game jams it forces you to just go for it and release something. releasing a 'bad' game is better than no game at all. experience only comes over time and i think just going for it is the best approach there is. like its literally 2 weeks 1 month whatever of your life. if you have the time and motivation go for it. make it work or fuck it up it wont matter in the grand scheme of things

im not sure what is the motivation behind the question but i do want to point out that this is just my method (if you can even call it a method) and the only way to figure out what works for you is to just try until you find something that actually works for you

idk not everyone will find it doable/fun to plan around spending two weeks gamedev 10 hours a day just cause i wanted to fit in 100 cgs for a jam game but apparently i can do that when i cheat my stupid adhd brain into hyperfocus with adhd meds

READMORE BECAUSE I CANT STOP RAMBLING

as for planning tho i think ideas on their own are worthless and its always about execution in the end. a great idea or a meh idea are the same for me but i do still enjoy the planning process so i keep notes

like i see a great tumblr post or i see some art or visual novel has some scene that inspires me: i save that shit for myself

having a big collection of random floating ideas like that helps me easily pick from especially during a jam type duration. right now i have like 4-5 half-baked project skeletons, some are literally like 3 pictures and some like naomida are a hundred hours worth of me writing world building about how the toilets work in a city with no plumbing cause its -30celcius(i love bringing this up)=

i dont normally plan that much, i tend to just wing it. like for malmaid i seriously just had some rough ideas and just went along as i wrote

same thing for dddeviance i had a handful of scenes that i really wanted to make and knew what kind of start and end it was meant to have and just figured out how to fill the in between. a lot of plot points changed vastly like halfway through i realised my devil + angel combination was stupid and i should just go for fallen angel + angel.

i think there really is no simple answer tho (as evident from the long as hell post) i don't really have a 'process' because every single game has been worked on has come with different type of planning since I'm always trying new stuff to try and distract me from boredom. like I've been using obsidian for naomida while previously I've just used a empty discord serve as my notes app for malmaid and dddeviance

and tbh with naomida I'm running to a new problem where I'm definitely planning too much. like I'm spending too much time fidgeting with details in chapter 4 even when i haven't finished writing chapter 1 just cause its so easy to get in the loop of "oh ill just change this one line" and boom 20 mins spent playing with my notes that didn't really progress my game since by the time i reach this point the whole scene might have shifted to something else

.

but if i had to squeeze an answer itd be something like everything related to my art or writing or games is just like "oooooo that seems fun i should remember this for later" and then i just string 10-100 of those into a story

i tend to write my stories in a format of

character A does this and that

this happens here

puppy play ryona piss orgasm

new day and then this happens here

sad thing happens

more piss orgasm

the end

and just like start filling in more details and working on my story in a nonlinear fashion until i feel like i have a strong enough skeleton that i can start writing my scenes. i hop around a lot, often preferring to write the fun scenes first like ero stuff or the ones I'm the most interested in and then the rest is just filling the blanks and stringing the cool scenes together

[robogalaxies]

☎️ - The Unneeded But Happily Researched Crumbs Of Everything We Know About The Commissioner

“If anything happens… I’ll deny I ever knew you.”

The Commissioner is, as we all know, a mystery, and I hope it stays that way, but I put it upon myself to wrangle every little tidbit of information we have on him outside of giving cases! I do this solely because of three things:

I have nothing better to do

I find myself strangely endeared to his character (i.e. I do a gay little "favorite character" clap every time I hear him mentioned)

I want to share all my random knowledge with you all because I go digging for it in every S&M media there is

I'll be dividing this up into 4 sections for ease of access: comics lore, games lore (HtR, Telltale, TTIV), cartoon lore, and misc. lore. Some things MAY be assumptions based on other characters' reactions to what he MIGHT be saying or say about him, sure, but I will source all information on where to find it & provide images when they can be easily provided!~ If anything new comes up or I have forgotten something, I'll update. Until then... hope you love both hyperlinks and "at least I laughed at it" style commentary! ☎️

Comics Lore

The introduction of The Commissioner, as with everyone else! Small tidbits of his quite understated character outside of being The Phone are here, obviously, including:

the Commissioner's one and only speech bubble! (Bad Day on The Moon)

the beginnings of the implied "I love you" statements towards Sam & Max with an "XOXO" on a postcard (Bad Day on The Moon)

he shows SOME disdain towards Sam & Max's attitudes towards achieving their goals, being the one specifically to tell them to go on a road trip (On the Road #1, "Prisoners of The Casbah")

Games Lore

Hit the Road

The Commissioner is barely a character in this game (big surprise, right?) and you do not get much information on him minus the bare minimum of "he is Sam & Max's boss," so there's not much to be said here. In fact, I don't know why I mentioned it. Great game, though, go play it! Now! I'll wait until you get back :)

Save The World

Welcome back! There're only minor silly tidbits here, but they're needed for this comprehensive list. Everything is worth mentioning about a character with nothing to his name but "The Commissioner." I mean, you're reading this post, right?

wears bifocals! 👓 ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

was once in contact with & worked with Harry Moleman, as he sent him to be the mole for the Toy Mafia. Crossover of the century... I wonder if he knows how far poor Harry has fallen ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

Takes Sam & Max out for dinner sometimes, apparently, if they do well enough on their cases! Squirrel Garden sounds disgusting, but I'd be jazzed too if they also had the free breadsticks ("The Mole, The Mob, and The Meatball")

likely just a quick jab, so I don't really know why I'm putting it here other than humor, but Max apparently doesn't trust him! I hope that gets solved; Commissioner is sorta signing his meager paychecks ("Bright Side of The Moon")

Beyond Time and Space

The middle child of the Telltale trilogy, this game has barely anything in terms of tidbits given that he really only assigns the beginning cases in 1 out of 5 episodes, and even then, that doesn't give a single thing away. Despite this, there's gotta be one or two tidbits we should learn, right? Sure!

is aware of Sam's insistence on answering the phone & seemingly asks straight up why he didn't answer (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

Can confirm an "I love you" towards Max... d'aww! (What's Up, Beelzebub?)

The Devil's Playhouse

The Commissioner barely shows up or is referenced in this game, mainly due to the story existing outside of the common framing of "assigning cases," but we learn two small yet revealing tidbits:

British Columbian! 🇨🇦 (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

Has provided books on cultural and racial sensitivity for Sam & Max because they kept "reducing people to obvious stereotypes." (The City That Dares Not Sleep)

This Time, It's Virtual!

The phone exists yet again... but in your VR HEADSET! Some fairly funny Commissioner lore in this one even if you, like almost everyone I've seen in this fandom, dislike or even hate this game:

His family is in hiding, and I'm assuming Witness Protection?! Must come with the territory (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Can confirm an "I love you" of some sort said to Sam ... d'aww! (phone call after completing first three Freelance Training segments in-game)

Signs off even official, legal wanted posters with "The Commissioner," asking people to seek the help of Freelance Police & associates himself as PART of the Freelance Police!

signs your certificate at the end of the game, which mentions the Illuminati in conjunction with his name for some reason! What kind of policing are we running here....??

Cartoon Lore

Truly, the 90s cartoon is where most Commissioner lore lies if we take into consideration all of these happen within the same universe, which we likely shouldn't. This being said, the cartoon provides us with the only picture we have of the guy (see post photo above the cut). Alongside this, we also get a LOT more information than any other media:

before we even start the information in the ACTUAL cartoon, Sam & Max say within the show's initial Bible believe he's out to kill them, in some way, saying they're the "troubled, ungrateful sons he never had." That's so sweet ... in a way. As well, there's a very small section dedicated to the Commissioner as a character, though not much is said that we don't already know (Sam & Max Cartoon Series Bible)

has Geek's number, or at least a number to the Sub-Basment of Solitude, as he calls it more than once over the course of the series, which makes me wonder how well he may or may not know Geek! Like a grandniece or something (episodes 1, "The Thing That Wouldn't Stop It" & 3b, "They Came from Down There")

cried over the story of Sam & Max having to get rid of John, their beloved alligator son... must be a shared parental instinct (episode 6a, "That Darn Gator")

apparently sends sticker books in case briefings on a semi-regular basis, as Sam comments that he "loves when the Commissioner does that" as if it has happened before - how whimsical! (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

confirms the Commissioner as a legitimate police commissioner alongside being Sam & Max's boss (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

seemingly very fussy if not given his private bathroom and honor bar. Fancy stuff, Commissioner, & he apparently allows Sam and Max up there! Or not, they just sorta bust in. Whatever! Sharing is caring (episode 6b, "We Drop at Dawn")

the Commissioner has a DAUGHTER! and somehow, Sam & Max got invited to her WEDDING! I think she's beautiful and I hope she doesn't resent her special day getting ruined (episode 11a, "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang")

that iconic, signed, chest only photo given with the solemn, loving, promise of "If anything ever happens, I'll deny I ever knew you," followed by Max crying that it's "It's just... so him." - what a loving, tender and slightly bordering on oddly familial relationship he has with Sam and Max... stop, I'll start crying! (episode 13, "The Final Episode")

Misc. Lore

These are lore tidbits that are present in mediums either outside of the media itself, belong in a game that is not technically part of the larger S&M canon, or has to do with out of media context, but should be included anyway because why not!

gifts Sam & Max a new floaty pen from a different United State every Christmas ... but not really anything else! (Poker Night 2)

Sam & Max discuss the Commissioner's power in response to doubt about his existence, claiming "Don’t you know he’s everywhere? He knows we’re talking about him right now!" - which is sort of scary, but I'll let it slide because it implies that the Commissioner's surveillance is of a much higher caliber than we initially thought and that is BANGER (in-character interview for Telltale, found here on Steve Purcell's Sam & Max FB page)

He's affectionate yet surly & I'm sure all those "I love you" statements contribute to that! D'aww... (Skunkape Origin Video)

Voiced by a member of Bay Area Sound, Julian Kwasneski, in the Telltale trilogy! Talked about and even has a LINE recited in this specific developer commentary! We love a mysterious boss who sounds like an adult in Peanuts.

God bless the guy, he had a rash! Does this matter? No. Will it ever matter? Likely not, as it was from the sadly cancelled Sam & Max: Freelance Police trailer. Sighs. At this point, you can tell I'm just adding whatever mentions we get of the guy. Makes me giggle, though.

Conclusion...?

In the end, the Commissioner is a mystery, and always WILL be a mystery. Hell, I sort of never want to know as it will ruin every single thing I have worked so hard to archive, but it is fun to comb through the different canons! Of course, it is likely any of this can be tossed out or considered non-canon in the blink of an eye because Sam & Max always loves to give a middle finger to character details if they don't affect the main plot & likely a lot of these are mere gags. The Commissioner is phone, and always will be only phone. However, it's always in my best interest to try to find ANYTHING to push back the curtain even the tiniest inch, and I hope my efforts were worth it. Now, to sign off, just press that phone! You got it, you got it! ☎️

[citruslullabies]

I'm still not used to writing for Cooper, so any constructive criticism is welcome!!

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic?: romantic

Requested by: no one!! Just a fun lil thing

Category: heavy fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): prewar!Cooper Howard x reader

Word count: 1000

He's a Doll

The apartment had been so quiet, so calm and peaceful. It was almost suspicious just how calm it had been.

It was a nice saturday evening and you were home alone while your spouse was out doing odd jobs, sipping on a cup of tea while reading an article about the war. It was always a topic your partner avoided but you found it interesting, always keeping up to date on the new information coming out.

Cooper Howard, while at one point a well known and beloved actor, had fallen back into the bottom after his divorce with Barbara. A woman you had never met - nor cared to. You honestly were about to give up on the dating game since you were getting older, and age certainly wasn't kind to anyone. You were a 36 year old woman who already had bad back problems and creaky knees, who would want that??

But he did. You both had met when out grocery shopping, with you trying to reach something on the second to highest shelf and trying to regrettably monkey climb and remembering your age in the process.. when all the sudden hearing a chuckle from behind you. And there he was, a very exhausted looking Cooper Howard chuckling at your dispense before helping you out.

The both of you had met when his divorce was still being finalized and custody as well, it seemed like everything was going south for Coop until he fortunately went down the right aisle at the right time. He couldn't even remember how it happened, meeting and then talking and it somehow took off from there. You'd be lying if you said you understood how it happened either.

The radio was playing in the background of the calm little apartment, legs tucked into your side as the hot cup pressed against your lips and a soothing sweet liquid spilled down your throat. With a smile, you continued to read while humming along to the radio station.

“Everyone tells me he's no good

He doesn't love me like he should

I would forget him if I only could

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll”

The lyrics rung out of the little box, causing you to hum along to the beat and drift off into your own little world inside of your head. The song oddly enough reminded you of Cooper, well, besides the whole cheating aspect.. the lyrics were so sweet and reminded you of the sweet devil you fell in love with.

“That man can look me in the eye

And tell the biggest, sweetest lie

And I forget the lipstick on his tie

He's a demon, he's a devil, he's a doll

Sometimes I make up my mind

That I'll stop being so blind

And tell him off real bad

But then he turns on those charms, and there I am in his arms

And I forget why I'm mad”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued to listen, while the song wasn't necessarily about a good relationship it reminded you of yours in a good way. You and Cooper have fought, but he always somehow manages to calm you down before you blow your top off.

The door opened and Cooper was greeted with the sound of music and your humming, which was a pleasant surprise. He closed the door behind him and put his keys up, looking at you in the living room completely off into your own world.. a devious idea sparks in his head.

Quietly, he walked up behind the couch and leaned over just enough to be hovering. He stopped and admired you for a few moments.. the way you seemed so relaxed and at peace, despite that god forsaken news report on the nuclear fallout and war being in your hands. He chuckled quietly and then grabbed your shoulders abruptly earning a startled yelp and a quick swat to the arm.

“No need to get your panties in a twist darlin, ‘m sorry.” The southern cowboy said with a laugh as he saw your irritated gaze, his pearly whites on full display as his eyes were crinkled up. Oh you couldn't stay mad at him no matter how hard you tried.

Your gaze softened in almost an instant when seeing how joyous his face appeared, rolling your eyes playfully as you folded up the newspaper and tucked it into your arm. He smiled when he felt a delicate hand on his cheek from the one he adored, chuckling and placing his larger and rougher head atop your smaller and softer hand. Your hands had callouses, but they were like buttermilk compared to his sandpapered skin. He leaned down and captured your lips with his own, hands sliding down to your hip dips and squeezing softly.

With a content hum, he snaked one hand over to that pesky paper you had rolled up and took it away from you while you were distracted. He was glad to see you after a long day of work, your lips tasting like sweet sun tea with a bit too much sugar but he still accepted the flavor on his tongue happily since it was you. You pulled away and smiled at him, before pressing your cheek against the cushion.

“Well, I'll just accept it as a heads-up that you're sleeping on the couch tonight.” You chuckled as he gave you a fake offended look. He nuzzled his nose against yours with a chuckle, before pouting. “Oh sugar cube, you're so cruel to a poor cowboy down on his luck.”

You both stayed like that for a while, just adoring each other with playful jabs.. the music continuing to be sweet as it filled the room and danced around the both of you.

“He's a palooka, he's a brute

He drives me crazy but he's cute

Why do I love a guy I ought to shoot?

He is a demon, he is a devil, he is a doll~”

I'm working on requests!! Thanks for reading

[kamidukki]

[AKNK] Berrien’s Daily Life Memories [BOX vol. 2]

The greatest enemy

L-look, Mr. Bug… I’ve opened the window for you, see?

Since you’re kind… you’ll get out, right…?

(bug’s noises)

Ugh… I beg you, please get out already….

Ah…! Don’t jump onto my pillow!

Gh… seems like I have no other choice.

…Do you understand, Mr. Bug? Please stay still just like that… Now, to lift up the pillow… Slowly, slowly…

…Hya!

Fuh… Somehow, I managed to drive it out by myself. If others were to see this, I won’t be able to live it down…

A…! Another bug just flied in…!

(bug’s noises)

And there are two of them now… Ugh…

…It can’t be helped. As I thought, I must ask for help…

A prayer for the dead

What a beautiful moonlit night. On such a quiet night, I can't help but pray for our fallen comrades, that their souls may rest in peace...

Some devil butlers lost their lives in battle with angels and I were unable to see their last moment... But some of died peacefully in my arms.

There is not a day that I do not have everyone in my thoughts.

May you rest in peace, for I will never forget about you.

It is a burden that I will continue to carry with me.*

That’s why… Please lend us your strength, one that will allow us defeat angels and protect the Master…

[*This line will probably make more sense if you're up to date with the main episode, which revealed information about Berrien's demon power]

The worst nightmare

U… ugh… Gh… No, please don’t go away, Master…

…Ha!

Was that… a dream?

Hh… What a terrifying dream…

It has happened many times before, but nothing as frightening as this...

Master... who I finally got to meet and who means the world to me... and the only person I can't lose.

Ugh… Master, please come back to the manor soon… And let my heart be at ease with that smile of yours.

Beyond the fight

Fuh… Ha!

I have become much more adept with the spear myself. I miss the time when I first picked up this spear.

I couldn't handle it well... I had to train hard before I could fight with it.

Now I can handle it as if it were a part of me... I guess I should be happy... In a world full of battles like this, if we don't fight... we won't be able to protect people from the attack of the angels... or protect our precious Master...

Phew. I hope the world soon becomes one where we don't have to deal with weapons.

When that time comes, I would be able to spend more time with the Master... peacefully.

Silence and solitude

Hmm...

The manor is very quiet today.

The Master hasn't returned and all the other butlers are out on errands.

It's been a long time since it's been this quiet. Too quiet that I feel uneasy.

This won’t do...

Loneliness is a heavy thing one one’s heart...

At times like this... it's best to get down to work.

Yes, that's right. I shall go down to the basement and continue my research on the angels...

On reading the diary

Hmmm...

It's fun to reread old diaries like this.

This date was probably around the time... when Lono-kun and Bastien-kun first came to the manor.

Yes, that's right. At first they didn't know how to interact with each other and it was very awkward.

A lot has happened since then... They've overcome a lot of things and now they're much more open.

We are like a family now...

Hmm?

Oh yes ♪

This is what happened that day... ♪

Shall I tell them both about it tonight? They'll probably be embarrassed, but...

Hmm ♪

Once in a while, it's not so bad to reminisce... ♪

The rumoured new master

(When I had just arrived at the manor...)

Hmph... Today is a very happy day for me. Since I got to welcome the new master to the manor.

The Master looks like a very nice person, don’t they?

From now on, I will be able to serve them. I am really looking forward to it.

At the same time... I have to be more determined than ever.

I have to protect the Master no matter what...

That's the reason for my existence after all.

The sharp gaze

One day, when I returned to the manor... Berrien was focused on something.

Hmm...

An angel who appeared recently is behaving in a way never-seen-before...

I wonder what could be the cause... I must investigate further...

...He seems to be researching and thinking about angels.

The look on his face when he concentrates... his eyes are so serious it makes you forget how calm he usually is. A serious expression that I rarely see... I forgot to call out to him and just stared at his profile.

[meownotgood]

the end, the end, the end. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, spoilers, angst, hurt no comfort, mild sexual content, minors dni. word count: 3.1k

Aki spent his entire trip to Hokkaido thinking about you. When his thoughts begin to wander like this, he isn't given much of a choice; you occupy every space in his mind. Each stream of consciousness always seems to lead right back where he left it — You. 

Hokkaido is cold, empty, and manages to suck the life out of everything it touches. The sky is a certain shade of melancholy blue and twilight. It's the kind of atmosphere that causes him to slip into his usual routine of drowning in old, tired memories and his own reflections. His heart and his brain don't spare him much pity these days. 

Frost creeps at the edges of the windows. A veil of snow falls incessantly and swirls with the wind, obscuring any semblance of a view, leaving him only able to see what lingers in the back of his mind: graves made of polished stone, loaded guns, failed attempts to quit smoking, forgetting how to say a prayer because it's been too long. Getting cold feet, and trying to live an honest life, even though you know it's far too late for that. 

The expedition to kill the Gun Devil is coming soon, creeping closer, and Aki's got one arm, half a heart, and way, way too many regrets. This is the moment he worked so hard to get to, this is the big crescendo his entire life has been building towards, and now look at what's become of him. All he can do is reach up, brush his fingers over the stub where his arm used to be and wonder how the hell things got this far, this bad. Did the world do this to him, or did he do this to himself? 

So weak, so soft-hearted — He can't fight like this. He'll end up making more contracts with devils just to stand a chance. Sacrificing more of himself, even though there isn't much left of him to give. 

He's not prepared; honestly, when was he ever prepared? From the moment he became a devil hunter, putting himself on this path, he always imagined he was settling for an unreachable goal. But now, he's come face to face with the end, with everything he thought he wanted and… God, he just can't do this. 

Life is so damn fragile. Aki has been walking this thin line between life and death, living on the borrowed time he takes for granted. With all of his shitty decisions and past mistakes, he should be lucky he got this far. But if he goes through with this, when he goes on this mission, he's really going to die, isn't he? 

There's a letter sitting on his coffee table back home. One he meant to send before he left, but never did. A letter he mulled over again and again and again, read hundreds of times, rewritten even more so. 

Handwritten in pen with shaky letters, sentences constantly interrupted by scribbles over mistakes. The paper is see-through where tears have fallen and bloomed out over the page, stained with the dark ashes flicked from one too many cigarettes. It's sealed with a stamp, tucked neatly into an envelope. Addressed to you. 

Hey.  I'm leaving. I won't be coming back. Don't try to look for me.  I'm sorry for everything. You don't have to forgive me.  Take care of yourself.  I love you. Goodbye. 

I love you. Those words are particularly messy. Nearly unreadable, but still tangibly there. Aki isn't sure if they simply aren't true or if he just wants them to not be true. 

Did Aki ever love you? No, he wrote those words out of mere obligation, that's all. Because I love you is what you say to someone when you're speaking to them for the last time, when you're never going to see them again, and you want to leave them with something good. 

Because I love you is what you tell someone after you've spent nights lip-locked, kissing each other 'til sunrise (No, he was drunk, you were drunk, it doesn't count). I love you is what you whisper to someone when you're about to drift off, holding them in your arms close to yourself, like they'll disappear once you let go (He was exhausted, he didn't mean to say it, the words just slipped out — It doesn't matter, you were asleep, anyway).

Aki felt his heart twist into unknown shapes when he wrote those words. Crushed, chewed up, spat out, his teeth stained red with blood. I love you consumes him from the inside out, all the way down to the core. The thought of it alone is enough to hurt, to make his chest ache. 

Aki didn't love you, but he could have. Aki didn't truly love you, because he has only one arm to hold you, half a heart to love you, and dwindling time to spend beside you. Aki didn't love you because he thought it'd be easier not to, but now he thinks he might have only made things harder. 

How do you stop loving someone when you never said you did? Everything was supposed to be fake, you were supposed to be momentary. Now, you're forever imprinted into his timeline. Your soul is felt in his veins, in his lungs as he breathes, deep in between the structure of his ribs. 

Aki finds himself wishing that one day, you'd wake up and realize you hate him. You'll despise his existence and look at him like you want to destroy him. It's alright, who can blame you? This is how things are supposed to be. Go on and say it. 

You'd do what he's been terrified to: you'd tell him to leave, beg him to go far away from here and forget about you. In the end, it will be what's best, so you never have to see him again. So you don't have to live with the weight that he's going to die and it won't be peaceful. Instead, it will be worthless, hollow. 

Maybe then, maybe if you hated him, all of this would be so much easier. If you stopped staring at him like he's irreplaceable, like he is everything to you. If you didn't cry on his shoulder and hold him tightly when he comes home from a mission half-dead. 

If you never lived and blossomed in what remains of him, flowers to fill his throat, soft petals in his dying heart — Perhaps then, he'd find it easier to run from you. 

How do you manage to swallow down the things you never said, when you know that if you do, they'll go unspoken forever? Those words — I love you — will die pitifully alongside you, buried beneath the soil with your body. It doesn't matter; he never had the right to say them in the first place. The memories of lingering touches and quiet moments will be the only traces. 

Aki could have loved you, and that's the problem. That's the worst part of it all. Aki could have loved you, and you could have been his, but he could have never been yours. 

Aki is a hopeless tragedy. He is crimson blood that never stops spilling, deep purple bruises that never fully heal. And he belongs to no-one but this horrible system, to hunting devils until his body is spent and they've taken every last thing from him. The one thing he refuses to let them have is you. 

He promised to himself this: to keep you as far away from devil hunting as possible, by any means necessary. Even if he has to lose you in the process. You can't experience the same horrors as him, you won't. At least then, if he loses you this way, he will have finally lost someone of his own accord. At least he finally has a choice. 

You can't save him. No-one can, not even himself. Not even whatever God he decides to send his prayers to, in hopes there's someone out there to take pity on him. It's far too late to try and pick up the pieces. Aki belongs to this life for as long as it'll allow, until it decides to swallow him whole. Until hell decides it's ready to take him. 

You can't keep him forever, but you can have him on fleeting nights, during brief moments of solace. He comes home from work exhausted and weary, but willing to give you what's left of him. You chain smoke cigarettes on the balcony together, late into the night. Standing shoulder to shoulder, although it never feels close enough. Aki smokes each one down to ash, the nicotine soothing the ache, finally shutting up his brain. 

When you met, you were just two people looking for a vice, trying to find something, someone who's anything like those cigarettes. You wanted someone who would make you forget about the emptiness, Aki wanted someone who would make him feel whole. 

He kisses your lips 'til he can't breathe, so that his tongue no longer aches with the weight of all those words left unsaid. He makes love to you until sunlight is creeping through the blinds, everything hazy, tender, impossibly close, so he can feel something besides nothing at all. 

He savors these moments, drowns in every press of your warm hands on his cold skin. Your fingertips trail down his back, along his spine. Between his shoulder blades, then over his chest, tracing every scar he's ever tried to hide, and his body shivers at the touch. His hands tremble when he holds you; they weren't made for this. His breath comes in ragged gasps. Aki shouldn't do this — His touch is utter decay, enough to stain you with his existence — and he knows it, but he can't stop. 

The addiction courses through his veins, settling in the cavity of his chest every time he looks at you. His head is fuzzy, with fluffy cotton clouding his thoughts. He feels it bleed over whenever he gazes down at you under him, skin soft like silk, limbs sprawled out like a fallen angel. A sin worth sacrificing everything for. 

It's selfish. It isn't like him to do this, to act in this way. How could this happen, what has he done? His story was never supposed to go like this. It's hopeless, and he has left you doomed to suffer. But even so, he adores you, as much as a man who's going to die in a few years, months, weeks, possibly can. 

Over and over again, he falls for you, stumbling into the same temptation. A moth drawn to a flame, and when he catches alight, it burns, but it's beautiful. As he turns to ash, with his last breath, he will whisper to the world, It was worth it. 

He can't help himself, because the way his name falls from your lips sounds more divine than the way anyone else has ever said it. Aki seems to have the most meaning when you're the one to utter the syllables. Hayakawa doesn't sound like just another horrible, heavy weight he has to bear when it's spoken from your mouth. His very existence is more precious to you than it is to the world. 

Aki didn't love you, and you weren't together, but you were something, weren't you? Your circumstance wasn't just a hookup or a mere distraction anymore. You meant something. You meant more to him than his own stupid life ever did. Something, whatever that might mean to this fucked up situation, but something. 

When he loops back to the beginning, Aki knows there's a thousand excuses as to why he never sent that damn letter. He was scared, he thought it sounded stupid, he couldn't figure out what he'd say when he handed it to you. And most of all, he wasn't ready to say goodbye. He'll be ready eventually, he told himself. There will come a day when he's strong enough to let you go. Turns out, Aki is a whole lot weaker than he thought he was. 

So he delayed it, delayed it, delayed it. Pushed it back further and further. Once again, selfish. Just one more night with you, then he'll send it. Give him one more day, one more rising sun. One more kiss, one more chance to hold you close. Then, then, he'll be ready. 

Every postponement is just another letter he has to crumple and re-write. Aki has to find a sense of closure somewhere. If he slips the letter in your mailbox, runs as far as his legs will take him, will he be able to stop himself from turning back? If he knocks on your door, places the tear-stained envelope in your open hands, and presses his lips to yours one last time, will he even be able to pull away? 

When he gets back from this trip, he'll see you again, and he knows it's going to hurt. In another universe, things didn't unfold like this. He was going to leave you, he was going to disappear. Now, it's nothing but knowledge he has to live with. You'll cup his face in your hands and wipe the tears from his eyelashes. You will never know. 

There's only a matter of time before Aki is called for his last mission. Then, he's going to be forced to say goodbye, and it doesn't matter if he's ready or not. He doesn't want to die. Of course he doesn't want to die, he's utterly terrified. What will it be like, what's going to happen to him? Will his life be snuffed out, like his cigarette pressed into the ashtray, or will it linger like a curse, his ghost to haunt you? 

Hopefully not. Aki always longed for a death that was quick and painless, one that he wouldn't know was coming. The kind of ending everyone longs for, he supposes. For a brief moment, he wonders: would a death beside you feel better, or worse? Wishful thinking. As if he'd ever have a choice in the matter. As if, in this pathetic life he's led, he'd ever be lucky enough to die that way. 

Aki can't choose how he departs. He'll never be able to, but whether or not he leaves you of his own choice, like he intended, is up to him. 

So, he'll write the letter. He's going to let himself have one more night with you, and then, that will be enough. You'll wake up to an empty bed, to him gone, and an envelope on your nightstand. He'll have his last chance to say everything he wants to say. 

I'm leaving on the expedition to defeat the Gun Devil. I am certain I won't be coming back. This is goodbye, for me and you.  I'm grateful I got to meet you. I don't deserve you, I don't think I ever deserved you. I wish there's some reality out there where I did.  Remember to throw out all of my belongings. Move away from this place, if you have to. The money from my will should be enough to live on. I want there to be nothing left to remind you of me.  Smoke one last cig, for my sake. Then quit. Wash the sheets until they no longer smell like me. Don't read the newspaper the morning after. I don't want you to see my name in the obituaries. Forget about me, in every way you can, in every sense of the word. For your own good.  I love you. I've always loved you.  Hey, I know it's going to hurt. I'm sorry. But take care of yourself, for me. Please.  In the life after this one, I'll come and find you, okay? 

Hokkaido is cold, so cold. Aki has come to deeply know the way the cold numbs everything, from the knuckles of your bony fingers down to the end of your toes. The way winter envelops you, the way it takes you. But it doesn't numb what you feel inside: the aching love-sickness, nor the burning home-sickness. His body is freezing, a chill twists up his spine, but his heart won't settle, his brain won't quit. 

Thankfully, he is nearly done here. He'll head home tomorrow morning. You'll be waiting for him at the station, when he gets off his train. You'll hug him, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, his arm around your back, and he'll wish you'd never let go. There's both pain and comfort to be found in that. 

Aki will forget about everything for a moment all too short. Then, he'll leave behind the letter. He'll fight the Gun Devil, he'll get blown to bits. And when his flesh and blood is smeared across the sand, he knows the last thing he'll be thinking about is if you're okay. 

Are you watching the news right now? I hope you aren't. Are you safe? Don't worry, by the time you return to the beach, the waves will have washed away the last of me. 

Aki can imagine, if you were watching, you'd end up running to him. Always running after him, while he's trying to run away from you. You'd hold his body, lace his weak fingers with your own. His grip is cold and loose. Through his eyes slowly growing dim, you'll see your own reflection, and even though it hurts, Aki will smile at you. Your arms are a bed of roses, perfect to die in. Blood welling at his tongue, he'll kiss you, for one last time. You'll taste it on his lips. 

He should get some sleep. Without you, it won't be a proper sense of rest. But his thoughts will stay silent, at least, for a little while. 

I will love you, even in ruin. You'll live, you'll heal, you'll do the things we always wanted to do but never could, and then, for once, I'll be happy.  The memories of me, the way my voice sounds, the way my touch feels — They'll all fade, slowly, eventually.  If I had more time, I would have spent it all beside you. Your hand in mine, until I'm nothing but bone. 

Aki shuts the curtains and crawls into his make-shift bed. The sheets feel chilly. Shadows dance on the wall, his eyes burn, his breath is sharp. Sleep comes in restless intervals, accompanied by scattered dreams. Some are more like nightmares, but some are dreams of something better, something warmer. A reverie made of dripping honey and soft snow, of a clear sky filled with stars and a heart cleansed from all its regrets. Dreams of where this loop always leads back to — Dreams of you. 

[coldbloodeddevil]

I always still find it weird that Tek has never properly shown Kazuya caring about Jin, even just slightly. Like it's so weird because they have him genuinely love Jun, but like... not her son? That's also his son? Like for the longest time, he assumed Jun was dead - Jin is literally all that's left of the first woman he's ever loved, yet he feels nothing about it? Like I'm not even saying for the series to depict him as a loving father - it's just weird that the series never shows him experiencing conflict, or hinting that he may care. Or hell, even show us Kazuya's THOUGHTS regarding Jun and how she had THEIR KID. Fuck, they could've delved into Kazuya maybe even feeling guilty that he left Jun alone with a child (albeit not REALLY his fault bc he was Le Killed, but still)

It's just so bizarre to me that TK8 is pushing the "Kazuya DOES genuinely love Jun!" (a good thing) yet still writing him as Evil Ruthless Villain toward their shared son.

Some people try to say "oh but he HESITATED killing Jin in the last fight!" But honestly... I think that's just people trying to see something that wasn't really there. Especially considering he tried to kill Jin already in the start of the game yet never hesitated - not to mention the other times in the series, or in the alternate "bad ending" lmao. I think what people thought was "hesitation" was Kazuya just being exhausted from fighting for probs like an hour lmao

Anyway, this is something that both annoys me and perplexes me.

Right? It's so weird. They say Kazuya is this complex, almost tragic individual. In 2 they nailed it, well as much as they could through the minimal story. Through him still treasuring Jun, Jinpachi and Kazumi. Then turn around and make him a saturday morning cartoon villan. The annoying thing is, during four, seven and five they tease this multi layer to him.

In his midsection of four, he asks what Heihachi did with Jin, even going with him into the most obvious trap ever. In the start of Heiachi and his own ending, He almost looks concerned for Jin before Devil takes over. Little baby Birds back then even thought he merged with Devil to save Jin. Then nooope, he cackles and kills everyone in his ending and that's it.

In five, He's seen genuinely respecting and caring for Jinpachi. We even see babbu Kaz and him training. He calls Jinpachi JiJi and it's so cute...aaand then he kills him and cackles.

In Seven, we finally get to see that tragic cliff scene in full and finally learn Kazuya's true motivation. The reason he has fallen so far. At just five years old. Heihachi killed Kazumi, Kazuya's mother. Nearly everything he's done. He's done to avenge her. Mirroring Jin's own past and motivations. Could this finally be the end of the cycle? Nah, Jin spends the entire game comatose. We find out Kazumi sent Akuma from the streets to kill Heihachi and Kazuya. (With a heartbroken moment of Kazuya reeling from the reveal.)

A show of his good side in how he tells his empolyees to flee instead of stupidly risking their lives ina fight they'd never win. Then the climatic, emotional final showdown between father and son. A tragedy born of greif and hatred coming to an end. Were Kazuya finally wins.. But is just so tired (and sad) to feel any kind of closure before Akuma strikes again.

.....aaaand then he goes on to take over the world again and Jin finally wakes up. He becomes even worse, indiscriminately killng his empolyeed and enemy combatants alike, tries to kill his own son with. As you said, no hesitation. While randomly empolying the woman that killed his old empolyee. While also somehow still loving Jun.

Oh and Heihacji isn't dead after all. ¯_(ツ)_/¯

So yeah, Tekken is very confusing and werid.

[mellybaggins]

Fanfic Master Post

My fics are now locked to A03 members only

Please send me an ask if you would like to continue reading and you don't have an account.

About the Author Q&A post

Oathbreaker

angst. self discovery. trauma healing.

Act 1 - Chapters 1-12 - Complete

Morwen vowed she'd never lead anyone again after the disastrous mission that led to breaking her oath. But the gods laugh while you make plans, and her abduction by mind flayers and a concerning brush with the devil is forcing her to face her fears. In her search for a cure, she gathers a disparate group of other infected and reluctantly leads them on a journey towards their unknown fates.

Act 2 - Chapters 13-51 - Complete

As the group enter the Shadow Cursed Lands, Raphael returns and forces Morwen to make a choice. In seeming retaliation for her refusal, he breaks the mental blocks keeping the memories of her past from her, forcing her to confront the darkness she thought had been locked away forever.

Act 3 - Chapters 52-? - in progress

With her memories fully restored, Morwen prepares to enter Baldur's Gate, not only to disrupt and dismantle the evil plot of the Dead Three, but also to force a reckoning with her own past. If the darkness doesn't consume her first.

This is an ongoing fic about betrayal, redemption, religious trauma, abuse, and why good people do bad things. She also has romances along the way because despite everything she has never lost her capacity to love.

This fic contains smut, drama, violence (there is also dead dove content especially in the middle-late act 2 and beyond) and is probably the work I'm the most proud of.

I try to update every Monday, but sometimes life gets in the way.

Character Profile - Morwen (Idril)

Character Word Association Game

Oathbreaker on Ao3

Oathbreaker Chapter 1 tumblr post / more photos

Early Game Photo Dump

Bite scene photo dump

Late Act 2 Photo Dump

Fantasy Casting for Original Characters

Morwen recast

Act 1 Chapters:

Chapter 5 - Freefall (First meeting with Raphael)

Act 2 Chapters:

Chapter 41 - Rainy Day (Gauntlet of Shar)

Chapter 42 - This Too Shall Pass

Chapter 43 - Frozen Angels

Chapter 44 - Numb (Backstory Chapter)

Chapter 45 - Fire Burning (the Battle of Moonrise Towers)

Chapter 46 - Make Yourself (Oathbreak Chapter)

Chapter 47 - Thunderstruck

Chapter 48 - Way Down We Go

Chapter 49 - Losing My Religion (Ain't No Rest For The Wicked)

Chapter 50 - Roads

Chapter 51 - Hunter (End of Act 2)

Act 3 Chapters

Chapter 52 - Porcelain (Sweet Dreams)

Chapter 53 - Clandestino (Decaparecido)

Chapter 54 - I'm A Wanted Man (Kryptonite)

Chapter 55 - It's Been A While

Chapter 56 - Come With Me Now (Disappear)

Chapter 57 - Entertainers

Chapter 58 - Cold Blood

Chapter 59 - Angel

Chapter 60 - Mercy

Chapter 61 - Savage Daughter

Chapter 62 - Dance, Monkey

Chapter 63 - Hold On

One Shots:

This Protector (Act 2, Reithwin Tollhouse)

Come Undone (Act 1, Gale/Shadowheart scene)

Laileth of Waterdeep

fluff. romance. two worlds one heart.

This is Laileth. She is a forest elf who hails from Suldanessellar inside the forest of Wealdalth/Tethir, as far south of Baldur's Gate as Waterdeep is north. I've unconsciously been treating her like a Tolkien Silvan elf, so finally decided (though not stated in the fics themselves) that by some magic a group of elves from Mirkwood found themselves transplanted into Faerûn and therefore they were extremely reclusive and rarely dealt with outsiders except to trade. This is her first time meeting people of other races except at the bargaining table and she's fallen in love with Faerûn and it's people. She's also quite young, comparatively, and full of wonder and love of life and eagerness to learn and explore.

One person in particular though, Gale of Waterdeep. I've created a Series on Ao3 to keep all of her various drabbles together. They're all one-shots and her story will (mostly) be at the mercy of the prompts from the BG3 Writers Discord server. Many contain smut, and Laileth and Gale are into dom/sub play.

Character Profile - Laileth

Laileth of Waterdeep Posts on Tumblr:

(in story timeline order)

Helvegen on Tumblr

Kvitravn on Tumblr

Odal on Tumblr

Grá post on Tumblr

Synkverv on Tumblr

Solringen post on Tumblr

[earthflaxmachina]

The Metahistory of Paz

A user on instagram requested I talk about how Paz/Rumi were before modern tbod development, and since I actually made Paz around the time I made Derek (Dolan, at the time) in early 2019, there is enough content for a long post, so I want to tackle that first. Rumi was created in 2021, so she hasn't gone through as much change outside of personality.

Note that for the sake of saving space on this post (only 30 images allowed), I won't be including much of what is already public on derekdemetripoo or something.

Let's gooooooooooooo!

Note: around September/October 2019, my hard drive where I keep all of my art got corrupted so I had to get it fixed and they managed to recover a lot of my files but not all of them, because of this all the metadata (e.g date of creation) of the files was lost. All dates before 5th October 2019 are approximations based on what date it was saved on my phone/what date I posted it on toyhouse, etc.

Notex2: Also, when I mention Derek's old self, I will refer to him with his name at the time, Dolan, and also Paz by her old names.

CREATION: approx. ~26th January 2019

Figure 1. Paz's first design and appearance (Heller) | Figure 2. Heller's icon on toyhouse (~4/2019)

Around this time I started making demon ocs, one of which was Paz, or at the time she was Dolan's (Derek) half-brother, Heller Luq Urhis. No cultural inspirations for that name, I literally made up words. Heller was based off my friend's backpack (Figure 1). Dolan's full name was Dolan Sol Urhis. I think they both had a thing for Cerise (if you remember seeing me draw a pirate lady, she was from this era as well but less piratey). Not much I can say about Heller's personality because I don't remember and I never wrote things down. I think he was pretty serious to contrast w Dolan. This post is only about Paz so I won't go deep into other characters.

Something I remember about Heller is that, at some point he wasn't born a demon but was actually turned into one after he died, and that his starry poncho was handcrafted by him so he could remember what stars looked like (there are no stars in Hell). This contradicts the idea of him and Dolan being half-brothers, so I think this was canon before I made them brothers.

Fun fact: at this time, both this story - Devil's Adequate, though I named it in March 2020 - and Wence happened in the same world. I think. I know that Harlow had a connection to Luciano's brother.

DEVIL'S ADEQUATE V2: September 2020

Figure 3. Heller redesign portrait | Figure 4. Heller redesign reference, both from 7th November 2020

This was when I decided to make Devil's Adequate a more "serious" (it was corny) story about morality and heaven and hell, as you can see Heller has a bit of a priest/nun look. At this point he wasn't Dolan's brother anymore but an unrelated character. I think he was a fallen angel who was in denial about being Bad, so he kept up the priest thing in Hell. Quite an interesting concept, given the rest of the story was your average Maybe The Hell And Heaven System Is Flawed (sound familiar? lmao I was 15 by the way. This is a concept a 15 year old comes up with. cough)

I had quite a bit of worldbuilding for Devil's Adequate, like names for places and races of demons/angels. The comprehensive text on the worldbuilding is lost because it was a description for the toyhouse folder I later deleted. All I have left to work from is Dolan's toyhouse profile and maybe the draft script of Devil's Adequate however short. For example, Heaven was called Ecstasis instead.

According to Dolan's toyhouse profile,

'During [Dolan's] years as a secretary he met one of the Fallen Angeli, Heller - they became close friends, very close that Heller was enticed by him and developed feelings, of which are unrequited.'

Interesting! So now he was a love interest. This love interest thing would continue into early TBOD. I would get into the whole Devil's Adequate lore but I think that's more suited to an essay about Dolan/Derek's metahistory because he Was the protagonist.

NOT QUITE DEVIL'S ADEQUATE, NOT QUITE THE BOOK OF DEREK: July 2021

Figure 5. Pascal's new biography (23rd July 2021)

Figure 6. Pascal and Death (4th August 2021) | Figure 7. The 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse (6th August 2021)

At this time, Dolan was no longer Dolan, he was now Death. This story didn't really take place in Heaven or Hell but in some kind of Purgatory office where Death and the other 3 horsemen had to collect souls of people who died like reapers. Each horseman would have their "department" and would collect souls of people depending on how they died. For example, Pascal (no longer Heller), being the horseman of Pestilence, collected souls of people who died by disease. I named him (yes, still a man) Pascal because it was close to Pestilence and I was trying to get the names close to their role. The exception was Cerise (horseman of War) because she was trans and chose her name. P.S. his gloves weren't a fashion choice, he poisoned everything he touched, except for Death.

In Figure 5 it says:

“[His] first big debut was the Plague”

This means he started working when the Bubonic Plague started, because of the overwhelming mortality rate the higher ups (whoever they are) decided there needed to be a horseman of Pestilence to handle those. See image below for Death and Pascal’s first meeting when he made his debut.

Figure 5 also states he is the “3rd Horseman” meaning one of the other two horseman started working before him, since Death is the 1st. It was Fergie, aka Famine.

At this point, there was a tsundere quality about him and the implication of yaoi was latent. As you can see from Figures, he had a one-way rivalry with Death and was simultaneously jealous and in love with him.

Too lazy to date these individually just know they were from 23rd July 2021 - 18th October 2021, in order of creation.

EARLY TBOD: October 2021 onward

Figure 8. Paz first seen as a girl (23rd February 2022) | Figure 9. New Paz info and first instance of being called "Paz" (18th April 2022) | Figure 10. Paz and Aarum (also 18/4/22)

Around this time was when I ditched the office idea and came up with the idea of Derek (named on 12th September 2021) wanting to have a child with a human. Paz's crush was now a crazy obsession, and also she was in a relationship w Aarum for a while. Canonically, at some point, they broke up some time during Derek's human life. Overall this era in her development was really weird and I'm ashamed of it.

In Figure 9, Paz mentions Derek's "corpses", this is referring to the fact that when Derek first became human he died a lot because he wanted to try different ways of getting hurt and also dying so there were lots of his corpses after he kept dying and coming back. This idea does not carry onto current TBOD because, why, lmao.

There was a plot point where Derek BURIED HER ALIVE for a couple of years (she couldn't die bc she was already dead) because she convinced Aarum to kill Derek earlier than they planned. So weird. This also does not carry onto current TBOD because it's stupid.

Figure 11. The trio celebrating Derek's loss of virginity (18th May 2022)

Quickly all of that weird violence got retconned away and we forgot all about that. Until June 2022 she still had that weird crush that feels like she was cheating on Aarum emotionally. After June, she was a fujo but still dating Aarum, at least the crush wasn't there anymore. I think everything from October 2021 onward is public on derekdemetripoo if you scroll far enough, so I won't include many images.

MODERN TBOD: October 2022 onward

Figure 12. First instance of what would become Paz's new design (23rd October 2022) | Figure 13. Current Paz ref (2nd August 2024)

Figure 12 was never posted because I planned to draw Derek and Aarum there too but got lazy. It was an au where Paz had Derek's role, because at the time I also entertained with an au where Aarum had Derek's role - and from that came Aurele. This drawing was meant to have all 3 of them as gods sitting on chairs. Her chair says Patricia because like Aarum was called Aurele, she needed an au name too. Her dress was inspired by the Haitian Karabela traditional dress iirc because she's Haitian.

I think by now I had gotten rid of the idea of her and Aarum altogether, never dated, just friends. Because Aarum was gay now and Paz was now somewhat romantically/sexually apathetic. Also her and Derek were now more friendly, and she doesn't call him sir anymore. Maybe she did when they first met because he was this weird celestial being, but once they got to know each other she dropped the formalities. Happy ending!

It was always planned that in her past life she was a Haitian volunteer nurse who died by disease in the 1800s. But upon more research she would've had to be a mixed child between a slave and a white man (given the time it was most likely rape) if she had access and freedom to study medicine (albeit informally since women could not go to college). I don't really know how I feel about writing a story like that so I decided to push her death further ahead in time. But yknow if you're gonna write a historical black person there's gonna be slavery/segregation tied to it because the civil rights movement wasn't really that long ago.

At the time of writing this, I still don't know when she died. But I've been entertaining the idea of around the 70s-80s because of the way she dresses. It's probably her old clothes from when she was alive. Maybe it was AIDs. Maybe she accidentally got poked by a non-sterile syringe while volunteering. Who knows. She was 25 when she died and that has been a consistent fact since early TBOD.

Fun fact: I always intended for her to be neurotypical, but I guess things just have a way of happening, she doesn't really give neurotypical anymore. And that's okay. I think it's funny that Derek's only friends aren't normal people either.

I think that's about it for Paz's metahistory! This took a while. A lot of these facts I've just been storing in my head cuz I never made a habit out of writing oc stuff I just remembered it. Which is not a reliable way to store lore.

I've got a couple of requests for other ocs' histories, so I look forward to going down memory lane again. I might even do one on Derek's full metahistory. I tried that once but the max image limit was 10 and also it had stupid commentary. So I might remake it.

Hope you enjoyed reading if you actually read all of this! If you skimmed, this doesn't apply to you. TASER TASER TASER!!!!!!!!!!