#ah poor ivory

[westywrites]

Last Line Tag

I'm finally getting a chance to go through posts I've been tagged in from the past who-knows-how-long (far too long)...

A long, long while ago, @kaiusvnoir tagged me in a Last Line Tag post. Thank you so much! Sorry for the immensely delayed response. Here's a little something that has recently been edited/rewritten for Draft 3 of Essence of Stars (book one of The Corvine).

Ivory and Cambridge sat in amicable silence as birds flew around the clearing and small animals scurried through the trees. Under the bright blue sky, he could almost forget the worry twisting in his chest. What Avenir had said at the campfire the night before terrified him. But he couldn’t fight the Almighty’s plan for him. It would do no good. All he could do for now was enjoy the peace while he had it. In the quiet, he could hear Cambridge’s breath quicken. His heart followed suit.

I have at least one more tag game post that will be scheduled to post later today, and I'm bad at deciding who to tag, so I'm not going to tag anyone in this one.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 6)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer wants you to be the Mother of his child. Rated E bc Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 13.5 | Part 14 | End

((This one fought me so hard, I just wanna get it out there and I’ll proof-read it later I’m sorry.))

The first time didn’t take, as you’d come to learn 3 days post-coitus with the Devil. It had left you bereft, not exactly disappointed but also not certain if you should go out and buy 150% proof alcohol to mark the occasion. 

You settled for enough wine to dull your senses before sending a text with your Hellphone. The fact that inter-dimensional phone lines were possible was simply added to the list of not-even-gonna-think-about-it of things that came with your new reality. 

A blood-curdling shriek from your pocket made you curse as you dove for it. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey-yy!” Lucifer responded cheerfully before clearing his throat. “So it um… it didn’t work?” 

“Unless being pregnant with hellspawn looks and feels exactly like my time of the month, no. It didn’t.” You said. 

He sighed on the other end, air blowing through the receiver and fucking up already poor reception. “Okay. Shit. Well, maybe we can work something else out—”

“I’ll just text you when it’s over and we can try again.” You replied as you leaned back against your headboard. 

“You-you wanna try again?” Lucifer’s surprise made your eyes roll.

“Yeah, just give me a couple days.” You’d felt a wave of fatigue crashing over you.

Suddenly you were boneless, barely able to even hold the phone up to your ear. Lucifer’s hesitant delight barely registered yet you could imagine him behind closed eyelids, smiling crookedly with those ivory fangs. 

“Y-I-uh, ok great! That works for me if it works for you!” He practically shouted. “Do you need anything in the meantime?”

“‘Mmmmffh, a nap.” Lucidity snapped back for a moment as you eyed the phone in your peripheral. “Also please don’t call or text me. I’m gonna throw this thing out the window if I have to hear someone screaming bloody murder one more time.” 

—

Lucifer being startled by the ringing of his Hellphone wasn’t at all peculiar. 

However — 

The sound of a love song, though tinny and compartmentalized to the King of Hell’s coat pocket, made Asmodeus perk up. 

He glanced down to see his diminutive brother rush for the device like his life depended on it. It was easy to feign polite indifference as Lucifer excused himself from the cafe table for a moment, but by the time the King had returned, Asmodeus was leaning forward expectantly. 

“That’s new.” He said. 

Lucifer looked up wildly, as if he’d been caught snatching aphrodisiacs from Ozzie’s own stores.

       “Huh, wha? What’s new?” He laughed off the embarrassment, re-taking his seat.

Asmodeous sipped from his teacup, clocking the many idiosyncrasies Lucifer displayed.

       He was flustered, still gripping the phone between his claws, and had perched on the edge of his seat so that he could bounce a leg against the ground. 

“Love songs aren’t your usual style, babe.” The Prince spoke casually, but his eyes were bright.

It was delightful to see Lucifer stiffen as soon as he realized what his companion referred to. One of the best about the short King was how easy he was to tease, if you asked the Embodiment of Lust himself. 

        “Didn’t know you were finally getting out there, Louie.” Ozzie teased. “Were you gonna keep it a secret? Even from me?”

“Oh n— out there? Me?! Ha! No!” Lucifer shook his hand fiercely. “I’m not — it’s not like that! We’re not dating! I mean, some might see it like that but a lot of others wouldn’t! She wouldn’t… probably!  It’s, ya see, actually — I — ahem, ah…” 

His embarrassment grew into something stranger, more conflicted and melancholy. The teasing smirk on Asmodeus’s face flattened. 

“It’s complicated.” He finished, looking down at his phone as if it were the sole reason for his sudden misery. 

Ozzie wasn't soft on many (in fact he’d argue that being hard was his speciality) but his brother was one of the few. 

The much larger Sin rested a hand against Lucifer’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

—

The days that followed blurred together, monotony of aches and pains broken only by an insatiable libido. It was as if the promise of sex after this, however unfulfilling it might be, was the only thing keeping you alive. 

Lucifer’s bizarre consideration held up over that time, surprising you enough that when it was time to give him a ring, you weren’t as dread-filled as you could’ve been. 

        He did, however, arrive in your home via furnace suspiciously quickly upon making contact with you again. His normally pristine suit and and impeccably coiffed hair were ruffled and singed, like he’d made a mad dash to get to you. 

“Hell-Oh!” Lucifer had practically squeaked as you dragged him out by the lapels. 

You’re so pent up that it’s hardly a surprise when you find yourself sitting on his lap, having manhandled the short King onto your couch. 

His cold, smooth skin was still alien, but you powered through the initial aversion to chase after that zing that came with kissing him. It was addictive, even with the fear of being cut by his sharp teeth in the back of your mind. 

Despite yourself, you took a second to break away and breathe. 

Beneath you, Lucifer was positively flushed. His shiny, wet lips were parted in wordless awe, and eyes glazed over in his daze. 

“Fuck.” He croaked. 

You smirked, gripping onto the blond hair that had already been mussed and abused by overeager hands. Pointedly, you slid back and forth on his trembling lap. There was no way to ignore the hardness at his inner thigh. 

—

The first drag of his cock against your walls made you shudder, arching as your head fell back. 

Lucifer whined in his seat, claws digging into the plush of your thighs. The pain heightened the feeling of being stabbed twice, making your lower belly tremble. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fffffff —” His cries were so good, you couldn’t stop from grinding down onto him. “You feel so good. So. Good. You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart. I can't.”

“That’s ok.” You slurred, hands coming up to wrap loosely around his neck. “We can work on that.” 

Lucifer opened his mouth, but you were already planting kisses against the corner of lips mouth, his cherry-spotted cheeks, the line of his jaw and the pulse beneath his ear.

—

Your hands were focused on exploring the planes of Lucifer’s chest and shoulders. He wasn’t muscular — or tall, obviously, but the lithe body intertwined with yours was more than easy on the eyes. 

“You can touch.” It was hardly fair that yours were the only hands busy. The ruler of Hell was flat beneath you, artificial light from your bedroom lamp casting shadows on his marble chest. 

Lucifer’s mulberry-dappled lids remained low, highlighting the yellow glow of his eyes. His claws slid up your hips, reverently tracing your frame as you bounced lightly. 

“If you insist, princess.” 

He was more coy after the first few rounds, an easier grin sliding across his face. The trembling touches against your breasts spoke of the still-nervous creature you’d first been introduced to.

—

Daylight was waning again when you found knelt, back pressed against Lucifer’s chest. He fucked into you wildly, teeth pressed into your bare shoulder. 

The thought of him biting into you didn’t sound so frightful anymore. In fact the image set butterflies off in your stomach. 

That and the way he held you close, wrapped vice-like around you like a boa constrictor. 

“No baby, don’t go yet!” When you squirmed, Lucifer nuzzled into the side of your neck, breathing heavy. “Just like this. Please, baby.”

He pleaded into your neck, grip tightening to where you couldn’t breathe. 

— 

“Here.” You guided his hand, settling it between your legs. 

Lucifer’s thrusts had grown shallow and uneven, but hadn’t quite stopped. He seemed entranced, watching as you positioned his thumb over the bundle of nerves just above where you two were joined. 

“Gently. Watch your claws.” You murmured along with your hands-on teaching. 

When you felt he’d gotten the message, you sighed and concentrated on the circular motion against your clit. Lucifer remained attentive, moving clockwise as the pace he’d started before picked up again. 

In moments you tensed, pleasure sparking along your pubic bone. It built up as your eyes closed, head tipped back as you let yourself enjoy the pressure both inside and out. Your hips jerked upward of their own accord, core trembling and cunt spasming. 

Your partner whimpered at the new intensity, which only egged you on. Before you knew it, you two were rocking into a chaotic rhythm. 

With slit eyes, you saw Lucifer looking down at you, flustered yet rapt over your every little response.

“Yeah?” He asked breathlessly. 

You nodded. “Mm-hm.”

It was difficult. You could feel the tension in your belly contracting, the heat and pressure building against your clit. The feeling was mounting to where you couldn’t help your keens, your moans, your whimpers. 

It ended with a choked sigh. You arched from the bed, head falling back as you let your legs tremble and shake around him. The convulsions pulled the Devil in deeper, and the feel of him was enough to make your eyes roll back in your skull beneath fluttering eyelids. Another gush came at the thought of being so full you could feel it in your stomach. 

          Lucifer watched. His face was nearly as red as the apple that adorned his hat, knocked off of your bedside table. He had the expression of someone seeing a falling star for the first time. Stunned, eyes gleaming, unable to comprehend something despite how beautiful it was.  

The former Angel lowered himself to capture your mouth with his own. He pressed luxuriant kisses to your lips, all while his hips stuttered between your thighs until he was humping into you, refusing to separate skin from skin. 

His release was coupled with a heated groan, muffled by the slide of your tongue against his. You were glowing inside out, warmth blooming in your core as you held onto Lucifer tightly. 

— 

The woman had invited you up into her tree. It was a different tree from the last, not bearing any fruit but lush with green needles and strong boughs that wouldn’t break. 

She looks over her shoulder at you cheekily. “Aren’t you glad you decided to join me?”

You playfully scoff and roll your eyes. “You don’t need to be so smug about it.” 

“Oh I think I do.” The blonde tilted in your direction, arms coming to wrap around you. “I won.”

You stay that way, watching the nettles shake in the passing breeze. 

“Everyone loves a winner.” She says at your side.

You frown. “I love you no matter what.” 

The woman sighs. 

“You might not always.” 

—

Light humming woke you from your doze, along with the repeated motion of something against your cheek. 

It wasn’t until you’d opened your eyes that you realized it was Lucifer humming and caressing your cheek tenderly. He was nose(less) to nose with you, seemingly admiring your face slackened with sleep. 

“What’s that from?” You rasped. 

“Hmm?” The King stroked an errant hair behind your ear. 

“It’s a movie.” You continued, repeating the notes in your head. “Right? It’s from a musical…”

“You like musicals?” Lucifer asked, seemingly surprised. Fangs poked out of his close-lipped smile, and he looked goofier than ever before. 

You copied him, helpless to how silly he made everything. “What’s not to like?”

The lightbulb went off. “Oh! Cabaret. That’s where it’s from.” 

“Yeah!” Lucifer moved even closer, the flat of his face pressing against your nose as he nuzzled you for guessing the right answer. “It’s kinda old, isn’t it? How’d you guess?”

“Psh, you think my threshold for pop culture is only as long as the last ten years?” You teased, arm skating down his side so that you could pinch his behind. 

“Hey!”

***

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Please let me know I missed tagging you!

[sewinrat]

Yk the older sis hcs u did ??

Well i was wondering if u could write an kind of "what if" scenario where instead of luther waking up so damn late and stopping robert from getting killed what if instead she woke up and stopped ANY of the rats from getting killed and kept them as pets and started absolutely spoiling the ratmen

How would the rats and the other ivories react to this? :3

Awe this would be so cute if you ignore the fact that she is technically capable of watching them suffer in pain but she won't.

You hear a baam from outside your bedroom and sigh out, "Oh dear..." Standing up from your desk and stopping you from whatever you were doing, you went out of your bedroom. Walking down one of the hallway where the noise was coming from, you were met with Nyen cleaning out the inside of a ratman. Your nose scrunched up in displeasure and took out a spray bottle. "Nyen," you called out. Said cat flinched at the sound of your voice and turn around hesitantly.

Approaching him with the bottle in hand as he slowly backs away. Holding up the spray bottle you asked, "What did I tell you about murdering pests inside the halls?" You spray him. He hissed and his ears lowered either from distaste and mad. However he's not mad at you, he's mad at himself for not cleaning it faster. "Now shoo. I have things to deal with." He doesn't want to but he has no choice to obey so he went away grumbling.

After making sure he's gone, you then crouched down in front of the dead ratman, "Oh, you poor thing.. I'll fix you right up." You took his body in your arms, and bring him to your room where you'll be fixing all of his organs. Once you're done, you put something of yours on him to let everyone know that he now belongs under your name. You put him in a big enough cage so he'll recover safe for a while. But for now, you have somewhere to be. Sensing another chaos happening near the kitchen, off you go quickly before another one dies of Nyen. Sighing, you shook your head as you're walking at fast speed mumbling, "I know that Luther is stressed but doesn't mean that I'm not stressed from you murdering all these rats..."

Arriving in a dark room, you menacingly called out at the cat in front of you that is strangling another rat but this time with three eyes, "Nyen." Nyen immediately dropped the rat. Looks like he has learned his lesson on the last rat but that doesn't mean he's stopping. It was cat instincts. "Have you not learned?" You took out the spray bottle once again, "Bad kitty." You spray him as you uttered the words he doesn't like to hear. "Now go back to your bed," you pointed to somewhere that is not near your location or the kitchen. Nyen begrudgingly left, not wanting to push your limits. He knows how badly your punishments are so he's not wanting to experience it, ever.

After he left, you straightened your blouse and skirt, "Now, where was I...? Ah yes, the rat." Sharply turning towards the three-eyed rat who flinched, you pick him up from his collar like he was a cat... Ironic. "Stay still. This wouldn't hurt a bit," you imprinted your mark on him and now he's part of your pets. You let go of his collar, "From now on, you belong under my name, got it?" To which he nods rapidly, probably relief to not die. You walk off with nothing else to say. The ratman hesitates in following you but figured he'd try because technically he belongs to you so he's safe right?

You found Nyon on the ground and help him off the ground, dusting anything off. "Nyon, I'm gonna need you to find one of the rats and bring them to me. Use force, okay dearie?" Nyon trembles a bit but nodded obedient. You pat his head and send him off to find one of the rat.

In one of the kitchen you saw Randal and his pet accompanied with another scared ratman, this time in a sailor outfit. Calling out, "Randal dear! Would you be so kind to bring that rat to me?" Said creature perked up at the sound of your voice, you can hear him excitedly say sure and immediately dragged the - squirming - rat to you. The three-eyed rat behind you, hides his body using your figure from behind. "Good boy, Randal. I'll reward you later but now I need to do this," You put your mark on the squirming rat, to which he struggles more - not understanding what's happening. You sighed and told Randal to hold the sailor outfit rat down and to sit down while you search for the others. Randal nods eagerly and drag both Sebastian and hold the rat tightly in his hold. The three-eyed rat sweat dropped but doesn't make a comment in order to not trigger the happy boy with glasses.

It didn't take long to find another one. You found a rat with a crying eye hiding and you grab the hand that holds a weapon and took it away, "You should know better that I know every part of the house. Now be a good boy and stay still." He didn't however and instead continue to struggle. This makes you irritated but you managed to stay calm and took out a tranquilliser. You put the dart in his neck, and slowly he started to cease his squirming, making it easier to put your mark on him. Bringing him to Randal to also hold the 'crying' rat down in case he wakes up.

That leaves one more rat, you thought. It might take long because Nyon isn't physically capable in comparison to Nyen but he can manage. Looking over at Randal rambling to your rats with Sebastian looking pitifully at the three of them. You figured that you can cook for the family. Standing up and grabbing your apron, you get started. Making a perfect portion of food for your family while making a slightly larger portion for your rats.

It took a while but Nyon came back with an aggressive ratman that's wearing circular glasses who's trying to attack Nyon even if technically he's weaker. "Good boy, Nyon," petting the Nyon who enjoyed the pats that can make Nyen jealous, you grabbed the newest rat addition by the collar and immediately put your mark on it. "Oh! Before I forget," you snap your fingers and Jeff showed up with the ratman with a long nose from it's containment in his hold. Jeff put the ratman down on one of the chairs upright. "Thank you Jeff, you can go now," snapping your fingers once more and Jeff is gone.

"Now, all of you ratmen are now under my name. That means you can stop stealing our food. All of you better sit down and eat, okay?" With the threat lacing the last word, all the rats scrambled to take a sit at the table while Randal is just excitedly rambling to everyone about how good your cooking is. "Nyon, go get Nyen and interrupt my brother's sleeping. I'm sure he'll be needing my food when he sees the mess," you can see Nyon nods and leave the room as you put out the dishes to everyone present.

Soon, Nyon came back with Nyen and your brother, Luther who almost fainted at the sight of the ratmen before you explained that they now belong under your name. To which, he has no choice but to accept it. So they all joined in on dinner. Although the ratmen are hesitant on eating because they thought it might be a trick to poison them. All of them seem to also glance at each other, especially at the 'crying' ratman. However to no viewer's surprise, the one to eat it first is the rat wearing the sailor outfit who complain about being too hungry to care. Seeing as he's not dropped dead, they all then eat it slowly besides the sailor ratman. They were so cute so you gave each of them a pat on the head, some even lean into it. Slowly but surely they accept everything that's happening.

Randal whined out about wanting a head pat too since he helped in keeping them in check! Sebastian would rather not have you touch him but he can't have a say in it or anything for that matter. Luther can't say he doesn't mind you starting to like the ratmen but he can't stop you. However, he will try to cut the time if you are spending more time with them than your family. After all, family is important♡

Nyen is seething. He doesn't like that the ratmen are now part of the family. While he won't kill them, in front of you that is, he'll torture them more than with Nyon. Speaking of, Nyon is just there. He doesn't mind and he doesn't question your decisions. Plus, he might have a friend in the house with one of the ratmen.

In the end, all of you enjoyed the food you made. The company however? That's 50/50.

[mitsuki91]

Okay, just so you all know, daddy!Coryo live now in my mind permanently, and of course the only reasonable thing to do is set him free by writing something...

I will share one little wip I wrote in my tiny lunch break:

Coriolanus dropped another piece of meat with the classic clang and watched the hybrid devour it. 1.57 seconds. A new record.

"Tell me," replied the professor, his tone neutral to mask his irritation, "What should I do?"

He heard Dr Gaul's clang.

"I have decided that your little songbird will sing at the opening ceremony of the next Games. You remember, don't you? Lucy Gray Baird."

Coriolanus' heart lost a beat.

Determined not to show any emotion, he slammed his tongs back into the funnel. Clang.

She won't find her, he was thinking, frantic, trying not to panic.

She won't find her, and so…

"The girl is already on her way, with all her family," something detached itself inside him, like a piece of floating soul as he struggled to carry on his mechanical gestures. Another piece of flesh. Another clang. The stopwatch. 2.17 seconds. "I thought, as her former Mentor, you were the right person to host the Coveys... And convince your little Lucy Gray to play and sing for us in early July." 

She found her.

His heart was beating furiously in his chest. Clang. 2.54 seconds.

She found her.

When did she return?

"... With a smile on her face, possibly. Accompanied by her family so that the world can see how much a Victor is able to enjoy life, after being pardoned from Panem” 

She's bringing her to me.

Lucy Gray... To his house? With the Coveys? Little Maude Ivory... CC... Tam Amber? Barb Azure?

Oh god.

If she was back... What had she told the others?!

Would they hate him, all of them?

And he was supposed to convince her to sing for Panem? With a smile on her face?

Another clang. His mind raced in circles, and Coriolanus had to force himself to maintain a neutral expression, to carry out his task, to feign indifference...

Could this have been a second chance?

"Ah, there's one small detail," Dr Gaul continued, indifferent to his inner screams, "I don't think it will be a problem for you, however it's better that the public doesn't know... You see, as a matter of reputation."

"What?" asked Coriolanus, his tone always neutral.

Clang. That ugly rat face again. 1.97 seconds.

"Your songbird had a baby," replied Dr Gaul, tone as always sing-songy. Coriolanus stopped with the tongs in midair, rigid. Had he understood correctly?! “It's not good for Capitol City to be aware of the... Poor composure of the people of the Districts. Beasts that mate without even waiting until they come of age…”

Coriolanus felt himself rocking and had to appeal to every last ounce of self-control to remain upright and still. Not to be seen. Not to collapse.

Lucy Gray, with a child?

Lucy Gray... Lucy Gray with...?

"... Are you all right, Mr Snow?"

Coriolanus widened his smile and beat the tongs into the funnel with a loud clang. He took the time. 2.80 seconds.

"Well, I'll be getting baby items," he replied, posed and courteous and light as ever.

Inside, he was filled with fury.

Who dared?!

Let me know if you are curious 😂😂

[mowbrayvongothe]

Late live episode due to me panic baking!

The Magnus Protocol - 29 Keyed in spoilers below.

Oh Sam is alive that’s nice poor Celia for tripping over her.

Samama “it was a Bentley” Khalid.

It was searching for something? It wanted information about the Institute.

Do you think that ERROR was what the old man was creating?

God this is traumatising for Sam.

Celia I need you so bad you don’t understand.

Ah the ladies are arguing love that.

CHESTER. FUCK.

missing Norris

Hm Homicide. Wonder what that’s about

Currently sat on the floor behind the door to really create the desperate atmosphere ( art shit is all over my bed)

Yeah how does this turn into a homicide sweetheart?

Oh they’re old and inlove. How is there murder.

The music. Oh nice new words

“Odemknout své srdce”

Sigh this is a code isn’t it.

DID SHE KILL HIM.

The key to the lock?

Nevermind lock gone.

“Unlock your heart” I see.

Hm Chester so much passion and character in Open. This is a damn journal.

Ah the wooden door has the key.

My brownies are nearly ready damn.

Lock room? It’s the lock museum why am I confused.

Strange -> Simple.

Aha. Why is there the noise of moving a locked handle ahaha what.

Sharp lock with blood nice

Their lock was in the Lock Museum. And the simple one was bloody. Hm

Picked up the lock and then obviously everything went to hell.

Oh so they translated it.

Oh so to get out is to kill the other.

‘Unlock your heart’ meaning to kill your loved one to escape.

Oh so he just died from slipping.

Oh!

No he begged for help.

The fear here was their death. And using their love to seal both their fates. Nothing really to guess.

The key unlocks anything after they sacrificed their love. She believes it can remove her grief.

FUCK

Brownies are ready :3

Oh Chester is losing the Jon-ness

When she killed Stanley her love for him left as she unlocked her love. Sweet

ALICEEEEEEEEE MY LOVE

TEDDY OH MY GODDD TEDDYDYYYYYYYY

Oh

Worm?

His new job???

What is it???

ALICE DYER YOU AAAAAAAA

wh

Oh Sam

For fucks sake Sam

Alice dyer the woman you are

Teddy yk we love you dearly

ALICE DYER THE WOMAN YOU ARE

ALICE

“I can’t let you pass without a ticket :|”

ALICE

ALICE MY LOVE

Alice what’s going on

Alice dyer

ALICE

WHAT THE FUCK

WH

WHATS

NO

ERROR DID YOU NOT PAU FOR A TICKET WHAT THE FUCK

ERROR. oh that’s it’s. NICE!

Well time to get my burning brownies

Hm.

So those were some episodes

My brownies didn’t burn they were still gooey after 30 minutes in the oven which is nice (not)

So Sam passed out the prior episode and survived which we all can yippie at that. Passing out and having no control of your body is very traumatising and for Sam to instantly panic and decide that dealing with ERROR was his priority is. Concerning. But god he is going to do the exact same thing as Jonathan. Celia not wanting for him to go alone but while also hating the idea of even entertaining ERROR at all seems like an accurate response. I feel like people experiencing the horrors together feels more relevant in this rather than TMA but still all the inescapable horrors happen alone anyways. I had something i was meant to add one but ill mention it in another post

The case the case the case. Chester read it thanks Jonathan for that. Two old lovers went to their most important place of travel where Stan proposed and they had locked their love on the bridge. They then went into a ‘Lock Museum’ and gained an ivory key and looked at all the locks there. A saying was found Unlock your love which referenced the act of killing your lover and setting your love for them go to escape. We can assume she didn’t love him after escaping as she said she “wouldn’t miss him”. Nothing too alchemy themed here really and it was just a case about two lovers who had to sacrifice the other to escape the horrors oh it’s Jmart again of fucking course. No words after that fuck you Chester. Bring back Norris 2024.

Alice my love you care so so much you have such a big heart and you’re such a little shit. Nothing wrong with Alice truly. Alice seems slightly bitter about Sam’s new adventures in the OIAR, enough to express it to Teddy who HAS MYSTERIES OF HIS OWN???? What’s up with his new job is it like tha Magnus institute from the hit podcast The Magnus Archives????? Whats that about Teddy boy what’s going on. But realistically I’m assuming he’s having trouble keeping a job after leaving the OIAR. I wonder if it has to do with the horrors that lurk. Maybe he’s having troubles in his jobs so he has to turn to the OIAR? Would make sense. Also Dammit Alice truly cares she heard Sam was going on that train and decided to really leave her lovely pint. and last but not least ERROR IS ON THE TRAIN????????? Either a) Error paid a very, very expensive ticket. Or b) jumped the metro like a boss. Either way, way to go Error way to go.

Now after an hour of listening taking a break and screaming online my brownies are still NOT DONE!!!!!!

[viacursecasting]

Boundaries.

An Arte X Ivy Drabble

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in."

Arte opened the door to the arachnid's chambers, greeted by the sight of moonbeams illuminating her porcelain muzzle just before she put on her mask. "You know you don't have to wear that around me," the immune feline reminded her.

"Oh," Ivy realized, removing it. "Force of habit."

Arte then added, "By all means, do whatever makes you comfortable. I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright," Ivy assured. "I'm... comfortable around you." Although it was true, it was such a foreign feeling. To be unbridled by the shackles of her illness.

Arte felt fluttery in his chest, though he quickly batted it away by clearing his throat. "So how are you feeling? Ever since I... you know..."

From the way his ears folded back, Ivy could tell the cryokinetic was feeling guilty for her mild case of frostbite. "Kingsley, it wasn't your fault."

"I know you think that," Arte began, clenching his fists, "but if anything serious happened to you because of me, I would never forgive myself."

Amused, Ivy shook her head. "Risking my life for the sake of yours is quite literally my job."

"I suppose..." Arte stared at his hands as if they betrayed him. "I'm just afraid of hurting you again."

Ivy felt a pang in her chest. Such cruel irony. The one person she could touch... couldn't touch her.

But perhaps...

She contemplated before suggesting, "Would you like to propose a time limit for physical contact?"

Arte raised his head, intrigued. "I think I'd like that."

Ivy recalled, "I believe I was affected after fifteen minutes, so shall we say ten?"

Arte hesitated. "I don't want to risk that. Not yet at least." He countered, "Can we start with five?"

"Sure," Ivy responded. "Five minutes it is."

Arte sighed in relief. Setting this boundary was something he didn't know he needed. It felt good to have the weight of the world off his shoulders.

Then Ivy took a bold step forward. "Shall we put it to the test?"

Arte tinted. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't suggest it if I weren't."

He took a deep breath. "Okay then..."

Giving the spider one last chance to change her mind, he offered his palm. To his surprise, she took it. He kept his touch as light as powdered snow as he brought her digits to his lips, giving them a peck.

Ivy averted her gaze in a poor attempt to hide her rosiness. "You don't have to treat me like some delicate—ah!"

The feline swiftly drew her in to lock his arms around her petite frame. He felt her stiffen, knowing she was unfamiliar to embraces, but he eventually felt her relax and return the hug. She clutched him tightly, taking advantage of the opportunity to hold someone. This coaxed him to bury his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her flowery scent.

He spoke against her ivory skin, his cool breath making her shiver, "I missed you."

Despite the chill, Ivy felt warm. "You did?"

Arte chuckled. "Of course. I missed your gaze. Your voice. Even your stubbornness."

Ivy flushed. "What am I supposed to say when you tell me such things?"

Arte drew his head back to face her, brushing her soft bangs aside to view her radiant ambers. "Nothing. Just let me savor you." He was about to lean in, then halted upon seeing her burning cheeks. "Sorry, was that too forward?"

Ivy shook her head, making an effort to steady her racing pulse.

Relieved, Arte leaned in to kiss her, their lips dancing their familiar waltz, their heartbeats harmonizing like the chorus of a love song.

[unchataparis]

Danse du Diamant Masqué

Liladrien Week 2024 | Day Five: Incognito

Béyonce asked the most socially relevant question of their generation: what’s worse? Looking jealous or crazy?

Of course, Queen Bey doesn’t really have a leg to stand on taking Jay-Z back after making all that fuss about his cheating, it doesn’t really teach him a lesson, no? In Lila’s experience, people don’t learn unless they’re punished or suffers some kind of retribution for their crimes. Even the kindest, most well-intentioned people still fuck up when they’re not taught properly, and who can blame them? We’re social creatures, bred to survive in societies, and how can we learn if our society continues to accept us again and again no matter what we do?

Men have it so easy. They can do whatever they want, break however many hearts, dispose of however many girls, and their statuses as mummy and daddy’s shiny perfect example of human perfection will never fade. Men can do whatever they want to their wives as long as they keep earning money, and everything will be seen as A-OK.

Paris’ Diamonds’ Dance is the most inane gala of its sort that Lila has seen. She had attended such events back in Milan and especially in the US – oh, those Americans were crazy about ostentatious displays of wealth –  except they called those what they were, jamborees and debutante balls, instead of this masquerade bullshit.

The venue is nice, Lila has to admit, and so is the catering. The techno-bass music is pushing it, through. What happened to good, ol’ classic Mozart?

White, as far as Lila can see, glossy marble tiles and reflective mirror ceilings and glittering ivory tables. Teenagers ranging from age twelve to eighteen meanderingand mingling on the monotonous disco dance floor, dressed in an array of blank couture.

The rule is that they could not represent brands, they cannot wear any shade apart from white. This is a serious , very important social occasion, after all, and not an opportunity to push the latest collection of whatever luxury fashion house they’re the brand ambassadors of. But that doesn’t prevent the attendees from showing up in the most outlandish garbs while following attire rules.

A girl ahead of Lila is dressed like a petunia flower, great big sails of ivory, crimp-edged fabric jutting from her rear and hips. Her friend whom she is talking to has a train nearly two metres long, flowing down her back like a cotton waterfall, which she has gathered up and is carrying in her arms after too many people had trodded on it by accident. Lila suspects that the decision was inspired by economic means as well as trying to prevent the foot-shaped stains from showing. A boy, who has tried to ask Lila to dance until she picked up his intentions and repelled him through the disdainful force of her glare alone, dons a top hat and a tailcoat, and is practising his pick-up artistry on two new victims. The most well-dressed person on the floor, in Lila’s opinion, is the man currently sampling from the buffet table, whose wool suit and iridescent coat are so uncomplicated as to be ethereal. But even he couldn’t compare to the King of the ball.

Ah – Lila feels like such a poor Cinderella, with none of the influence and the riches of her peers. Her dress isn’t haute couture, just a slinky, littlecream number she picked up from Ferragamo hours before the event and she did her own make-up.

An entire army of stylists and designers probably sweated over Tsurugi Kagami, her preparation probably started a week ago, with facials and massages and manicures, until she resembles a perfect scarlet icicle.

She sits there at the top of the podium in the ballroom, the only colour represented , a drop of blood in a glass of milk. Swathed in a scarlet kimono, her hair is pinned back by chrysanthemum pins and her lips are such a juicy cherry red, Lila would kiss them herself if Adrien doesn’t .

Adrien, right beside her, in an immaculate, tailored suit and satin tie. He appears almost simple, but of course when you look like Adrien Agreste, nothing is ever simple on you. They’re effortless, celestial, phenomenal. With golden hair and blond lashes the length of Lila’s badly-paintedfingernails and glass skin, Adrien could be twiddling his thumbs there in a white T-shirt for all anyone cares and he’ll still outshine the entire floor. 

FYI, the man with the wool suit and the iridescent coat is the best dressed. Not the best looking.

Read the rest on Ao3 here.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 183 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the jasmine in my garden.

Wanna say right at the start of this episode, I loooove the soundscaping in this one! Especially the sounds during the dialogue scenes.

MARTIN:"Oh, bugger off!" JON: "Everything alright?" Ha, Jon's tone xD Like "Heh, I know what you're going to say".

JON: "It’s a building. A tower, in a sense." MARTIN: "Oh yeah? And what sense might that be?" JON: [Faintly ominous] "The Tarot sense." I thought the Ivory sense, but okay?

MARTIN: "Really?" JON: "What? No. Sorry, it… felt like a good line." MARTIN: "No, no, it was. I just… I dunno, I… you did the look and… It’s fine, sorry." Okay, Martin finally seems to get one of Jon's jokes, but I don't, can someone explain this to me? XD Like The Tower of the Major Arcana? What's up with "the look"? Anything specific or just Jon being a theater kid?

MARTIN: "What, what’s the deal, though? Parts of it almost look like –" JON: "The Institute." MARTIN: "Yeah." JON: "Yes. It makes sense. After all, it was built on the ruins of what Robert Smirke constructed." Also, like... The Magnus Institute was an academic institution. And this domain is about academia as far as I remember...?

HELEN: "I was so looking forward to catching up after that whole Basira and Daisy thing, but then pfft! You both disappear. I’d be very keen to know how you managed that little trick." MARTIN: "Why, it caught us by surprise too. I mean, w-we actually ended –" JON: [Firmly] "We found somewhere to rest. That’s all." MARTIN: "Oh, yeah. Ah. Yes." Hm, makes sense that Martin would tell her. With Helen per se he didn't really have any bad experiences yet (He did with Michael, but Helen is definitely different and that can draw a mental line, not seeing that it's actually still the same being). Jon on the other hand, oohohoho... He knows not to trust her.

JON: "She made her choice." HELEN: "With your assistance." JON: "It was still her choice." Ahhh, the choice and free will theme again!

JON: "Martin, I’d prefer we talk about this alone." HELEN: "Oh, I bet you would. You were probably just going to bypass it entirely, weren’t you? I can’t believe you would deny him the choice to see his own domain." MARTIN: "My… my wha– John, my what?" It's not Jon's fault they're being stalked by gaslight gatekeep girlboss all the time so she can show up and sprinkle some of her manipulation all over them, so they would start to argue. Good thing Jon and Martin are better than that. And technically, Martin should already have a strong suspicion he has a domain, they talked about it in MAG 167. Jon said they all have a domain and when Martin asked about his, Jon wanted to check in, if he really wants to know about it and Martin immediately declines. Being in denial of something or intentionally looking away doesn’t mean that that thing isn’t real.

Hm... This really took it out of Martin though. Normally he wants to talk things through, but now he rather has a moment to quietly think about it...

"The one who sits in the central chamber cannot remember his name. But he knows that people called him ‘doctor’. He made sure of that. To ignore it would have been the greatest disrespect and he will not be disrespected." Lol, is that poor soul Austrian? (There are sooo many memes about this here in Austria! They usually are titled "Tell me you're Austrian without telling me you're Austrian" and then it's someone with insanely many titles or absolutely stupid things with titles. For example doorbells on the outside of an apartment complex. There are no names, they are simply titled (ha) "Top 1" or "Top 2" and so forth. And then there is one with a small sticker in front of it so it reads " Dr. Top 5" xDD)

"This… wasn’t right. The first of the doors would lead him… Maybe that wasn’t the first of the doors. But it, it was, it was the first door. But that would mean… No, he, he was right, he was certain, he had factored in all the timings. This didn’t make sense." This has strong "My code isn't working... I have no idea why - My code is working... I have no idea why" vibes XD

That statement doesn't do much to me. Then again, I'm not an academic. My sister who has a PhD however says she totally feels this one.

JON: "Well, you’re a watcher, Martin. You worked for the Institute, you read statements. The Eye is… fond of you." This is super interesting. Cause this means, not every watcher out there is evil or a bad person like Jude, or Simon... So for the post-change-world this would be super interesting. (Oliver also seems chill to me, that's why I like him so much.)

MARTIN: "But I’m not an avatar." JON: [Heated] "Avatar isn’t a thing, Martin! It’s not– It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim." Love that we get this conversation, about how the world works, in a domain where this was the theme.

JON: "If you’re sure." MARTIN: "… I’m sure I love you." [FOOTSTEPS] JON: "I love you too." [FABRIC RUSTLES] Those two <3 (Ha! Better luck next time, Helen!!)

@a-mag-a-day

[thereaderarchive]

Ch.62: Unconditional

• for @drarrymicrofic prompt: unconditional (oct'22) | words: 470 | all chapters / prev / next

"Why? There must be a reason."

"Naturally," she says, moving a nonsensical piece that wouldn't change the outcome of the game. "I love him. But I can't give him everything that he wants, not with my sickness."

"So you'll risk your relationship with him."

"I don't understand the game. Intimacy is… different for me. Knowing he's happy, loved, fulfilled- it's worth risking something. Checkmate," her smile is sad while she stands, elegant robes moving with her. "I already won. The question is: will you help your best friend win too, Mr Granger-Weasley? I can't leave this world knowing the man I love will use me as an excuse for a life as a widower hiding in some ivory tower."

"Look - Does he really have an ivory tower?" She waves a dismissive hand, Ron supposes in the end every posh woman is similar to the other.

"How sick?"

"Cursed many generations before I was born."

"Have you asked for guidance in the Department of Mysteries? They take on cases like that… I've heard."

"Half my family are Unspeakables, they've done all they can. May I call you Ronald?"

"Ron's fine."

"Ron, I am grateful for the time we had. I know Mr Potter won't forgive me, but I've been extremely happy during the time I've borrowed Draco. He deserves sharing his life with someone he loves… and who I think loves him back as much as I do."

She does look paler than before, thinner too. Ron should use this opportunity to part ways with everything Malfoy-related, Harry had suffered enough… the thing is, Harry had also never been happier.

"McLaggen wants to propose."

"Oh, that's preposterous. He dated my sister, did you know that? He was nasty and incredibly boring, always yapping about the international games he watched on the weekends as if not all of us did that."

"Ah yes, the international games we all went to every weekend while growing up," he says rolling his eyes.

"My apologies." Ron simply shrugs, it's never been a secret that the Weasleys were poor or that even now, he still dislikes posh gits. McLaggen and Draco included. Astoria's on thin ice. "But he is foul, you must believe me!"

"Look, I don't like him more than I did when the slimy git tried to kiss the mother of my child," she gasps, a delicate hand covering her mouth. "Well, we were 16 at the time and not together- but you get the idea."

She snorts a little mousy sound. "Do we have a deal?"

He hesitates for a moment…the question is, what's best for Harry, really, that's all he cares about. He nods.

"So… when did he try to kiss her?" She asks, sitting again, ready to hear a story.

"At the Slug Club Christmas party."

"Oh, dear, how gauche."

[tgarnsl]

if you're still doing the wip ask game, could you tell us a little about 'necro' and 'woods'? :3

‘necro’ is a joke title for the less catchy title of Putting the Romance Back into Necromancy. tl;dr (too long; didn’t write): Ewen stops Keith from fully dying, but brings him back in a half-alive form that, despite Ewen’s best efforts, is still dying (though not in a body horror way. more in a ‘time is running out’ way.)

‘woods’ is the one you’ve seen before, which is kind of a blend of folk ballads and heavily influenced by The Decembrists’ Hazards of Love album. essentially, vaguely Tam Lin but with some additional elements. warnings for mentions of suicide attempt (fairly non-explicit.)

necromancy:

“Your friend will die,” said Archie quietly but firmly, as Ewen shut the door to Keith’s bedchamber behind him. “The spell you wove to draw his mind back to his body was not enough. For whatever reason, his soul remains trapped on the border between life and death, neither quite one nor the other.” He shook his head. “It is a black art, Eoghain, to stop a man’s natural death in this way: such things are proscribed for a reason. I cannot imagine what drove you to such lengths.”

Ewen could give him no answer, for the truth was so simple as to be absurd. He had stayed Keith’s death for no better cause than that of his fear of losing yet another he loved. A stupid, selfish fear, and one that Keith now paid the price for.

woods:

You return to me at last, whispered a voice as smooth as water into Keith’s ear. My wayward child.

“I have come to ask a boon, Mother,” said Keith.

Speak.

“I have done as you asked. I served as a soldier of the King and brought victory to his kingdom.”

And in exchange, I gave you the form of a man to wear. Would you ask more of me yet?

Between the trees, the figure of a regally tall woman emerged, as pale and glowing as the moon.

“It is not for my sake that I ask this of you,” said Keith. His mother paused before the tallest of the standing stones and looked at him, her gaze piercing.

No, she said. Her lips did not move as she spoke. It is for his sake. And Keith saw in the black depths of the stone, as vividly as though it were before him, a vision of Ewen Cameron, lying curled on his side beneath the roots of a great oak, just as Keith had left him. His face was ashen, and he shivered a little in the cold, but he did not stir as thin roots pushed their way free of the soil and wrapped themselves around his legs and body.

He is dying.

“Yes,” said Keith, his nails digging into his palm. “Can you heal him?” The roots tightened around Ewen’s injured arm, and Keith watched as Ewen's face twisted in agony. “Mother—”

I can heal him. But I would ask a boon in return. Her beautiful face was blank.

Keith bowed his head. “Anything,” he said. “My life, my body…”

Give him to me, so that I might do with him what I will.

Ice gripped Keith’s heart. “No, no,” he stammered. “Ask me for anything but this, please.”

He will die.

Keith met her night-black eyes. “But he is my true love,” he said. A pathetic, weak excuse, but it was the truth.

Ah, my poor child, said his mother, a smile spreading across her face like a rift opening in the earth. You forget yourself too easily. She moved towards him, the dead leaves of the forest floor muffling her steps. Would you like to remember? She waved her hand, and Keith saw before him the life that had once been his. He saw the great oak, where beneath a canopy thick and green with new life, a young soldier, who knew little of affection, awkwardly and with great sincerity swore pledges of love and fidelity to a woman with hair the colour of sunlight. Too late, he remembered.

“No,” he murmured, but it was not enough to stem the tide of memory. He saw the woman again, smelled her powder and perfume, heard her high, lying voice and the snap of ivory as she broke her fan, frustrated that he would not respond to her. He listened to nothing of what she had to say; he would not even look at her. He stood already beneath the great oak, a length of rope in his hand.

It should have been a good end, a clean end. But the branch had been rotten, and he had fallen. And there he lay, at the foot of the great tree, as a silver woman bent over him and promised that in exchange for his memories and service, he would live. He could not refuse her.

[yourgildedcage]

"The World of Another Who Looks like You"

Chapter 1: That boy Who Mirrors Malleus

Lilia was admiring the scenery on a walk through the botanical gardens. True he saw this scenery often and it was really nothing new, especially since he was a third year at the Night Raven College. But the thought that counts, as they say. It was fun to watch the multiple plants and flowers, and to a degree any students that maybe relaxing and enjoying the silence. No doubt Kingscholar would be here soon as a attempt to escape actually attending class. Then he would be found and forced to go. Lilia decided he might as well head to his own last class of the day but something stopped him.

He paused.

That boy.

He looked a awful lot like...

Lilia approached the sleeping boy who looked all too much like his so-- ahem prince Malleus. Lilia blinked in disbelief as he neared the long slender form of a near carbon copy of Malleus. The boy did not give off any magic, similar to that Yuu of Ramshackle dorm. And what's more he lacked any signature Draconian or fae features. No faintly visible scales, no pointy ears and certainly no horns.

Lilia blinked slowly.

They weren't making body double potions today and even so how would at strange looking version of Malleus be possible? Was he real? Lilia poked the doppelganger's side his lip curling into a smile when the boy knit his eyebrows together and curled up as if that would protect him from Lilia's nimble little hands no doubt the boy was ticklish in all the same places as the real Malleus. Lilia stopped smiling as he realized the boy was in fact real and a lot more identical to Malleus than just his physical appearance.

Lilia regarded the boy's clothing; his crimson red shirt, the black pants tucked into the ivory white combat boots. The green black and white jacket reminding him of the one Malleus wore for his birthday. Instead of being decorated with things related to Malleus or the Diasomnia dorm, one sleeve had "M. D." probably the initials for "Malleus Draconia" in gold embroidery. On the back of his jacket was the words "Everyone please hold your applause" in thick white letters. Lilia absently wondered who was in charge of his wardrobe, but it did not matter.

Reaching in the right pocket he found a wallet and a phone with a forest green case.

In the wallet was a library card, a public transportation card, a driver's permit, and three light green rectangular pieces of paper with the numbers 10, 20, and 50 in all four corners on both sides. Aside from that were some coins that shined and had weight but didn't make sense to Lilia. It was obvious they were some form of money, but they certainly weren't madol.

Reading the neat handwriting on two of the cards that was exactly like Malleus', the boy was indeed Malleus Draconia. Shoving all the contents back into the wallet and back into his pocket Lilia pulled the boy up and with a sigh teleported to the Hall of Mirrors.

It was going to be a long day.

Lilia quickly stepped through the Diasomnia mirror struggling a little to carry the boy who was taller and heavier than himself. Lucky for the Malleus doppelganger he remained asleep. Or perhaps unconscious..?

At any rate the other students will be back from class soon, and that included Silver, Sebek, and Malleus. Dropping the unconscious boy rather unceremoniously onto the bed in Malleus' room, Lilia idly pondered if he should make a sort of truth potion; if this person was trying (and failing) to impersonate Malleus.

He still had to protect Malleus after all.

But... what if he left the room and the boy woke up..?

Ah that would complicate things... Because if he was right, there would be two of the same person.

Still he was almost curious. How different and how similar were the two?

He thought it best to keep watch... Oh the boy most likely will have missed lunch. The poor thing will be hungry. Luckily Lilia new the perfect meal to prepare that would undoubtedly be ready by the time he woke up. Lilia walked off happy to go down in the kitchen....

About thirty minutes later the soup which was bright red in color, hopefully due to the tomatoes he added, was piping hot. It deceptively looked like blood, which that alone was sending any passing students wary as they returned from their class or clubs for the day.

"Lilia please tell you aren’t planning on serving that," Silver sighed. His violet eyes filled with worry. Sebek looked... Aghast? Lilia wondered why but before he could ask he took note of Malleus who had a look of suspicion as he peered into the pot of what was tomato soup.

"Oh Malleus! Could you check and see if my guest is still in your room? If he is would you mind waking him up for me?"  Malleus raised his eyebrows but agreed no doubt he was wondering why he put him in Malleus' room of all places. Lilia almost grinned smugly if the boy -- the other Malleus was still there, his own was in for a surprise.

"Sebek how was your day?" Lilia asked cheerfully

"It was good...? Sebek asked confused his voice not yelling for once. He eyed the still steaming pot contents warily. “I had the most extraordinary find today” Lilia started.

Malleus came back down stairs "your guest seems to have up and left. I assume you told him about me.?" Malleus questioned as he returned a little disappointed.

Lilia froze "ah I knew I should have locked the door" but then he smiled "oh well he most likely doesn't know how to leave the dormitory grounds so he shouldn't be far away!"

꧁❦︎♕︎❦︎꧂

"Mmm...." Malleus stretched out on the bed. His feet moving and toes wiggling in the orange socks. Blinking groggily he sat up. "Wha-- wait a minute. This isn't my room!"

He quickly got off the bed and almost fell down completely. Spotting his white boots he put them back on. "Hmm time to find out where I am" his eyes sparkled with curiosity. Their unique diagonal angle brown and green coloration of what classifies as hazel shining unnaturally in the green fire candles. Opening the door he simply walked out the room and downstairs.

Sneaking by the kitchen he heard a familiar voice humming happily. And a smell of various foods and spices blending together.  To his dismay he knew who the voice was and the circumstances of what the smells meant. He couldn't approach Lilia in this unknown territory. Approaching him meant that Lilia would ask him to taste the "food" and that would spell disaster. He'd wait till Lilia was done cooking to bother him.

Trying not to make too much noise he slipped out the dark place that reminded him of a castle.  Stepping outside did not make the place less glooming. It gave off a desolate and lonely vibe, the dark grey clouds with very small amounts of blue sky peeking through.

A group of students giving off a weird energy walked up, getting into view as he stared in shock. 'They weren't human were they?' He thought nervously.

He observed as they walked out of... A mirror? Oh yeah he wasn't going to watch any sci-fi movies after drinking coolaid any time soon. When the students had passed seeming to not notice him, or pay much attention to him if they did; he walked up to the mirror. And tried not to grimace at the decorations lining it.

He swallowed hard and leapt through the mirror unsure of where he was going to end up.

Immediately his body was confronted with the unpleasant coldness of a mirror. 'Like water' he thought, 'it feels kinda like water'

He ended up in some hallway or a really grand room.

The shift in lighting hurt his eyes and he struggled to make his way out.

It was full of Mirrors. Stumbling slightly, he walked down a street it was lined with statues. In the opposite direction of students all boys walking in the direction he came from. And more students about his age. He faltered wondering if he should go back. Nervously he spied the rows of heads for a authority figure of some sort.

He clumsily spun around as he walked taking in the sights and the.... Less than humanoid people around him who glared at him coldly or with.. Was that fear? Why would they be afraid?

But that aside this place-- it looked beautiful. And expensive.

His back turned his attention on his surroundings he should of expected to bump into someone. Looking around and tilting his head downwards at a burly guy with bear ears? He wore the same uniform as everyone else; a three-piece suit: a white dress-shirt beneath a golden yellow vest, a monochromatic striped tie, a black jacket, and black slacks.  And the suit lapels, including the edges of the vest, seemed to be lined with golden thread. He blinked at the guy and his three friends one of which wore a red vest instead of gold.

"Oh look some lost little punk" one of them sneered. His black ears reminded him of a panda. 'Oh it was a gang fight?' He was by himself he could take them. But why did they have animal parts? And what's that energy that's cloaking them..? "He doesn't have any magic. What's he doing here?" Magic..? Alternate world Malleus wondered.

He took a step back "I apologize..?"

"For what? The one he's bumped into scoffed "being inattentive?"

"No for crossing with such weirdos who don't have anything better to do, if you saw me coming why didn't YOU move out the way?" he snapped before he could stop himself.

The other four shifted uncomfortably, not liking how identical he looked to someone else. Or the angry glare he had on his face. Aternate world Malleus rolled his eyes. "So I'll be taking my leave now..."

He walked away 'I'll be more attentive this time and I won't crash into anyone.' "I wish I had a ice cream sandwich right now" he muttered before he was yanked back suddenly.

"HEY we didn't sat you could leave yet." The boy hissed. "Why don't you buy us a snack and we'll call it even?"

Alternate world Malleus stared at them coldly. "All I did was bump into one of you and you all want food?" He raised a eyebrow with a mildly agitated look on his face.

"What if... I opt out of the food payment..?" He asked his expression darkening. "I think you know," the boy with the red vest commented with a smirk.

"Yeah.. I do," he smiled coldly.

[raven-nerd4life]

- Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape -

Cherry-lipt Adonis in his snowie shape,

Might not compare with his pure Ivorie white,

On whose faire front a Poets pen may write,

Whose rosiate red excels the crimson grape,

His love-enticing delicate soft limbs,

Are rarely fram'd t intrap poore gazing eyes:

His cheekes, the Lillie and Carnation dies,

With lovely tincture which Apollo's dims.

His lips ripe strawberries in Nectar wet,

His mouth a Hive, his tongue a hony-combe,

Where Muses (like Bees) make their mansion.

His teeth pure Pearle in blushing Correll set.

Oh how can such a body sinne-procuring,

Be slow to love, and quicke to hate, enduring?

- Richard Barnfield (1574-1620)

Enjoy,

The wallflower poet

Ah soooo amazing

Thank you flower

[perfectsunlight]

COUSIN AH WOW JENNIE

poor ivory 💔

[mint-jellyfisch]

Hazbin Hotel Fanfic GO!

Vox and Dove

(Part of a larger story; details subject to change)

After a long day flitting here and there for Vox; taking notes, fetching drinks and documents, and other such odds and ends as his assistant; Dove finally got a chance to just sit down in peace and sort all her papers. She parked herself on the couch in Vox’s office, neatly sorting through the day’s work the way that Vox had instructed her. The man in question was off dealing with his own responsibilities at the end of a long day, likely spending time in his observation room or addressing one of the other Vees.

Dove didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the quiet room when the door of the office suddenly burst open, startling the poor sinner. Standing there in the doorway, the screen of his face slightly cracked, bottle of hard liquor in his hand, was the TV Demon himself, Vox. “That stupid FUCKING prick, I swear!” was all that Dove could understand from the rapid fire amounts of drunken words cascading out of the mouth of Vox.

Vox takes a hard swig of whatever alcohol is in the bottle, steps into the room, slams the door behind him, and stomps into the room with a continued tirade of slurring words and curses. Dove watched him pace around as he ranted incoherently, still stunned by his abrupt appearance. After collecting her thoughts and composure she spoke up to her raving boss, “Mr Vox, sir, maybe… maybe you should sit down for a minute.” He turned and glared at her silently, looking her up and down as if taking her measure. He opened his mouth to snap back at her, closed it and thought quietly to himself. He rubbed his hand down his face then sighed heavily, “Yeah. Yeah, maybe you’re right, Dove. Gotta compose myself.”

Dove expected him to sit down at his desk like usual but this time she watched as he stumbled over to the couch she was seated on and plopped down beside her, her wings fluttered slightly against her back with the shifting weight of the seating. She continued to sort the papers, albeit slowly, turning more of her attention towards Vox, who sat slumped back on the couch staring wearily at the ceiling. The two of them sat there in silence for what felt like several minutes, till Dove set down her papers and turned slightly in her seat to observe Vox better. “You definitely aren’t your normal self, sir. If you need to, you can tell me what’s bothering you.  I don’t judge and I won’t tell anyone else, Mr. Vox, you have my word.”

Vox barked out a harsh laugh, “Yeah right, like I haven’t heard that one before.” then took a swig of his liquor. He looked over to Dove, saw her staring with her red eyes, and saw nothing but sincerity in them. Vox looked down at his bottle and slowly sighed, feeling the shields around himself lower ever so slightly. “Its fuckin’ Valentino. Fuckin bastard is on one of his tantrums again. Try to fuckin help him and all he does is bitch, complain, and throw fists.” His hand lightly brushes the crack in his screen as he says this, the damage of his attempts to calm Valentino. “Every fucking time some little thing goes wrong with him he’s gotta act out and who has to come deal with it and clean up the messes? Me! Always me! His ‘flat-faced prince’ or some bullshit like that.” 

Vox leans forward, takes another swig of his drink, then continues his venting. “I’m getting sick and tired of this same shit day in, day out! What if I want something different? What if I want something more than this shit? Just…fuck!” He tries to take another drink from the bottle but finds it empty. He tips it and shakes it to be sure, but finding no last drops he winds his arm back to throw the empty bottle angrily across the room. “Ah! Sir! No no no no! Don’t do that!” Dove chirps in, springing up across the seated Vox, quickly grabbing ahold of the bottle in his hands. Vox’s eyes drifted down to the smaller demon now craning across his lap, taking in the ivory curves of her neck and shoulders, the soft feathers of her wings. Distracted by the sight, Vox’s grip on the bottle loosens and Dove gingerly removes the bottle from his hand, sliding back and setting the bottle onto the table before settling back into her spot, still facing towards Vox.

Dove looked over Vox, who was still keeping his eyes lazily locked on her. What should she say, what should she do? This was an Overlord of Hell, a prideful sinner demon; someone who should be feared by someone like her. However what sat there in front of her was a man, lost and broken, letting himself open up for the first time in who knows how long. She couldn’t help herself, she reached her hands out, cupping Vox’s closest hand in hers, his eyes drifting down to look at their hands together. “May I ask, sir, why? Why is it you haven’t shut that down? Why do you still seek him out when you know he will just do this again and again?” Her voice quivered with concern.

“Your hands are so soft.” Vox absent-mindedly stated, causing Dove’s heart and wings to suddenly flutter and her face to begin to flush. She tries to compose herself and stammers a response, “Th-thank you sir, but please, why do you continue to deal with him when he does this constantly?” Vox sighs and pulls his hand away from hers, “Why? Good question…probably because I deserve it.” he says matter-of-factly. Dove’s eyebrows furrow with concern, “Sir, you can’t actually believe that, can you? No one deserves that kind of treatment from someone that’s supposed to care about them.” Vox shoots a look at Dove, “You can’t actually believe that can you?” Seeing that her expression hasn’t changed nor has she backed down from her statement, Vox feels shame welling up inside him and looks away from her. “Of course you do.”

Vox takes a long, slow breath in, “Listen, Dove, that may be true for a sweet little thing like you but not me. You don’t deserve to be here, but me? I’m a fucking monster. A goddamn asshole, in life and in death, I belong here, I deserve this cause someone like me isn’t supposed to be happy ever down here. I’m suppose to suffer and be hurt and hurt others, so why not stick around with a fucking psychotic demon who will make sure I get what I deserve!” He slams his fist onto his leg in frustration and pain and grits his teeth, biting back any other harsh comments about himself. Dove feels a sharp pain in her chest, a pang of sincere empathy for this man. It hurt her to see this man talk of himself that way, to think that way. She had always wrestled with the thought that all the bad that happened to her in life was things she deserved for not being a better person, not being the way others were in life. “I don’t think you deserve that at all sir. No one does, you don’t have to be the monster you think you are. You don’t have to be like how you were. Just because it's easier to fall into old habits and old ways of life and feel that’s just how things are, it's not. You can be something else and still be you.”

Vox shakes his head in disagreement but says nothing, keeping his eyes locked to the floor, though his expression softens. Dove hesitates, not knowing how to help, then thinks up at least one thing she can do to help: “Just think on it, Mr Vox. But for now, just forget about all this going on. All this pain and punishment and such, just focus on the now, this quiet and calm.” She thinks briefly before turning herself parallel to how Vox was sitting, sliding her back against the couch. She patted her lap, “Here, I know something that will help. Rest your head on my lap, sir.” Vox stares at with a look of surprise, his eyes flicking from her face to her lap, “Excuse me?” It took a second or two for Dove’s brain to register what this seemed like, her face once again flushing a little, “I…I mean, umm, sir.. Umm.. just trust me okay?” she stammers as she pushes some of her hair behind her ear nervously. Giving her another once over Vox shrugs, “Eh why not.” and swivels himself so that he can rest his head on her lap. It was awkward at first given her small stature and his monitor shaped head but they managed it. Dove placed her hand on the top of his head, near where the crack in his screen caused by Valentino was, and began to lightly stroke his head. “Right now, just focus on me. Focus on my voice, focus on my touch. Nothing else matters right now outside this moment, outside this room. Just you and me, here, away from everything. Just relax and let your eyes grow heavy.” After a slow inhale Dove begins to sing a calming lullaby, her voice sweet and lilting.

Vox stared up at her, a drunken smile spreading across his face, “Heh..heh…nice tits.” he reached up with his hand to grab one. Flush-faced Dove quickly grabs his hand and gently lowers it back to his chest and holds it there, rubbing her thumb across the top of it, not breaking away from her singing. Vox’s eyelids began to grow heavy, his muscles beginning to relax as a sense of tranquility flooded over him. The alcohol, her sweet song, and her soft touch were working their magic on him as starts drifting off to sleep. He mutters in his drunken half-awake, “This… this is nice.  You sing so beautifully. I’m glad we met and I’m lucky to have you, Dove. You’re my sweet little songbird, stay here will you?” His eyes closed and soon his chest was rising and falling rhythmically with sleep. Dove felt her heart speed up, having heard him call her that. There was something genuine, something sweet in his tone, not like his usual catty remarks he’d make when sober. She felt an all too familiar warmth in her chest, something she told herself she wouldn’t feel again. Something she knows she shouldn't be feeling for this man, and yet there it was. 

She sighed and continued singing softly to the sleeping Vox, lightly stroking his head. That was something to figure out and deal with later. For now, there was nothing else outside this room, this moment, the two of them.

[casspurrjoybell-28]

Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 6a

*Warning Adult Content*

Journey - Part 1 - Kao

I scramble for my knife, searching for a few seconds before I realize they must have taken it.

Which makes sense if they're choosing to hold us captive.

But we are not tied up... I hear his heavy footsteps... I know they're his, how can I not when the closer he gets to the tent the butterflies in my stomach feel like they'll fly up my throat.

Curse it. It's not by my choice.

Just this stupid mate bond.

I quickly lie back beside Oliver, pretending to be asleep.

Perhaps he will proceed with less caution if he thinks I'm still out and I'll be able to make a move.

I hear the fabric pulling back.

"Ah. You are awake," his deep voice startles me.

Fuck. Of course.

I should've known tricking him would be harder than that.

I sit up, glaring at him.

"Whatever you plan to do to us, I promise it will not end well for you."

"Do to you? Why make it sound like that?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Because that's how you Alphas work. Y-you always act on your selfish desires."

"If the selfish desire is to keep my mate and his pup safe, then yes. I do act on that."

I scoff.

"Don't you sugarcoat it, dickhead. I'm not an idiot. So, what? Do you plan on keeping me captive until I go along with this mate shit? It won't work. I'll never submit to you."

He's quiet for a moment, studying me.

He still gives nothing away by his expression and it's absolutely infuriating.

"I do not wish to force you into anything. But.. There are rogues in these woods. Predators. You are easy targets, an Omega and a pup. I cannot let you leave my protection."

"Fuck you. We're not easy target."

"You are covered in bruises. You collapsed, bleeding in my arms. Am I supposed to believe those injuries did not come from an assailant?"

"I... I am fine. He's dead."

"It does not change the fact that there are others out there who will hurt you."

"So assuming every damn wolf in these woods is out to get us... how can I trust you?"

"I am your mate," he replies, like it's the most explanatory reason in the world as to why I should let my guard down.

Fat chance.

"First of all, no. No. We're not..."

"Deny what you will. The evidence is what you feel in your chest, as I do in mine. Your wolf longs for me, does it not?"

My cheeks flush in embarrassment, annoyed by the fact that he's right.

Not that I'd ever admit it.

"I feel nothing for you," I snap.

He goes quiet. He looks hurt. Hah.

I can't imagine why.

He barely knows me.

Why would what I think of him matter?

He could just snatch up another Omega, if he wanted.

An Omega far more suited for him than me.

And it's not like an Omega reciprocating affection has ever been necessary.

He can take what he wants, like all the others do.

Still, I feel the need to justify myself, for some reason.

But no words come to my tongue.

Instead, I give him a withering glare, wrapping my arms around Oliver protectively.

His eyes are icy, boring through my soul.

I've definitely angered him.

"Will you tell me your name, at least?" he asks, any warmth gone from his tone.

I stubbornly look away, refusing to answer.

He huffs in displeasure, before retreating.

"Fine then. You are not to leave. Do not even think of running."

Then he roughly throws the tent open and storms off.

I make a rude gesture in the direction he left in, gritting my teeth.

Fuck this guy.

A while later, the female Alpha I know as Lonnie comes to our tent.

She's got pale, ivory skin and large black eyes, making her look insect-like.

Her hair is dark brown, cut short.

I regard her with suspicion.

"I'm only here to tell you that we're heading back to the pack now."

"The pack?" I ask, looking to the recently awakened Oliver who still looks half asleep.

Poor baby.

He must've been so tired.

"Yes. Our pack. The Nightshade Pack. Cyrus, your mate, is our Alpha. He's needed back at home."

Alpha.

I quickly process the information.

So he's their leader.

Which means I've run from one crazy Alpha of a pack who forced me to be his mate to another who actually is my mate and also seems to want to force me to go along with it.

Or at least hold me captive.

'He's no different from Zacan'.

My wolf bristles at the statement, not liking what I'm suggesting.

"Chop chop. We're leaving within the hour," she urges, then leaves before I can make a retort.

I sigh, putting my face in my hands.

What can I do?

They'll catch us if we try to escape.

And even if we do manage, where will we go?

I tried to follow the North Star and look where that's gotten me.

I have to accept I have no talent for navigation.

Oliver and I may end up alone and lost in the woods, starving.

I can't risk that.

I make a decision there and then.

We will go with these wolves.

For now.

If they can provide food and shelter, I can't pass that up.

Moon Goddess knows Oliver needs it.

He looks more exhausted than I do, and he's not even the one with multiple injuries.

"Are we gonna go with them, Mama?" he asks in a small voice.

"Yes," I reply, hoping my voice doesn't waver.

"But do not tell them where we came from. Nothing. We cannot risk rumors spreading and getting back to Zacan. He'd find us."

Oliver nods solemnly.

He's always listened well.

I hear his stomach growl just then and know I must find food.

Even if it means leaving the tent I've been treating as my safe haven from the world and situation, stirring outside.

I tentatively take Oliver out, holding him on my hip as he rests against my shoulder.

He's gotten so big, man.

My arms already feel like they're going to fall off.

But I ignore the strain of my muscles, walking over to where an unfamiliar alpha stands.

"Excuse me? He's hungry," I tell him, causing him to whip around in surprise.

He must be Xavier.

The one Lonnie was talking to earlier.

He looks opposite of her.

He's brown, like me but about two shades darker.

His eyes can only be described as a mix between yellow and orange, like a sunset.

He has long dreadlocks tied up in a semi-knot on his head, some of the longer strands trailing down his back.

"You have such light footsteps," he remarks, eyes wide as he surveys me and my son.

"He's hungry," I repeat.

"Yes," he bows his head.

"I will fetch him food right away, Luna."

The title catches me off guard.

"You're mistaken," I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

"That is not what I am."

He looks confused for a moment, before bowing his head again.

"My apologies."

Then he walks over to the fire, getting the food where it sits in a lidded pot beside it.

*

Cyrus won't leave me alone.

Although we do not speak to each other, he refuses to move from my side as we travel through the forest.

Cyrus, Lonnie and Xavier are all transformed into their wolves, while Oliver and I remain in human form.

Oliver doesn't even know how to transform yet.

And me... well I've barely transformed since I got pregnant with him.

Once Omegas were deemed 'of age' we weren't allowed outside much, which is the only place our wolves could run free.

On my other side Xavier flanks Oliver and I and Lonnie walks behind us.

We're completely surrounded.

I wonder if it's for our protection or so we don't make a run for it.

Maybe both.

I've been concealing my injured ankle, doing my best to hide the ache that smarts my leg with every step.

But it only gets worse as we go on, the pain increasing until it feels like a knife tearing through my ligaments.

I feel annoyed that I haven't healed yet.

But then again, Omegas heal slower.

Abruptly, I stumble to the ground, cursing as I let out a whine at the hurt.

Immediately, Cyrus stops, looking to me with urgency.

I can't walk. I'm weak, dehydrated, exhausted beyond belief.

I can't go on.

I really can't.

[ausaplenty]

Paperwork

Aziraphale Kiara. Crowley LiLi. Ineffable AU

This was going to mean a mountain of paperwork if it didn’t work.

She fussed at a spot on her skirt, massaging the dirt out of the ivory brocade.

Kiara jumped as the thud of a blade meeting bone and flesh echoed through her cell. The manacles felt heavy on her wrists, binding her to the rough walls. She flinched at the thunderous cheer filled the square outside.

The jangle of keys drew her attention to the cell door, a robust man in a scarlet overcoat and a sash in the colors of the French flag draped over his chest. He spoke in French, gesturing to the exuberance outside her jail.

The blonde frowned, maybe slightly cursing her terrible grasp of the language.

“Ah, excuse moi,” Kiara started, recoiling as the man reached for the chains linking her wists. “C’est un grandeur … errr mistake.”

Rising to her feet to address the newcomer, she put a bit more space between them. She opened her mouth to continue to plead her case but he held up a hand to silence her.

“I speak English,” he offered bemusedly. A new clamor of blade and exuberance drew both their gazes to her window. “Listen to that. The fall of the guillotine blade. It is terrible, no?”

“Yes,” Kiara muttered in sympathy. “Cutting off that poor woman’s head. Terrible.”

“It is Pierre, an amateur,” her jailor explained. “Always, he lets go of the rope too soon.”

The angel rolled her steely eyes.

“You are lucky that it is I, Jean-Claude, who will be separating your traitorous head from your shoulders.”

Really, celebrating your role in a murder. Uncouth, to say the least – downright barbaric to do so with the level of glee. If Lilian did not appear soon, Kiara would have to abandon the ruse and then this whole debacle would have been for naught.

“There has been a terrible mistake,” Kiara interjected. “I don’t think you understand –“

“I have good news,” the executioner – Jean-Claude – told her jovially. “You are the 999th aristo to die at the guillotine by my hand … but the first English.”

The blonde gave a tight, polite smile.

“Now … shall we begin?” he said, moving behind her as his hands shifted to her neck.

“Please. No.” Kiara darted away from him, glaring at him indignantly. “Dreadful mistake, discorporating me. Oh, it’ll be a complete nightmare.”

The paperwork alone would take her months to finish.

The guillotine crashes. The crowd cheers. And the executioner chuckles as he looks out the window, his hands lifted as he stilled unnaturally.

“Animals,” she scoffed.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, Angel, only humans do that,” a familiar voice drawled.

“Lilian!”

The blonde wouldn’t stop the delighted smile that spread across her face, but she quickly controlled it as she turned around. The demon was lounging on a stool by the cell door, her hand draped over her knee in dark garb marking her as a revolutionary – a chance for Kiara to mask her joy with disapproval at the choice.

“Oh, good lord,” Kiara tsked, ignoring the pleased lilt on the demon’s lips.

“What the deuce are you doing locked up in the bastille?” Lilian pressed while she straightened. “I thought you were opening a gallery.”

“I was!” she tittered indignantly, shifting from one foot to the other. “I got peckish.”

“Peckish?” The word was incredulous.

The angel rolled her eyes. “Well, if you must know, it was the crepes.”

She paced back to the wooden bench in the center of the cell, the chains rattling with every step.

“You can’t get decent ones outside of Paris,” she explained sheepishly as she sat. She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “And the brioche.”

And a certain inkling that at the center of all this turmoil, she’d find one fallen angel to dine with her.

“So you just popped across the Channel during a revolution because you wanted a nibble,” the demon drawled, languidly gesturing to the angel’s ivory outfit. “Wearing that?”

“I have standards,” Kiara sniffed, smoothing the panel over her corset. “I’d heard they were getting a bit carried away over here but –“

“Yeah, this is not getting carried away. This is cutting off lots of people’s heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine,” Lilian interrupted. “Why didn’t you just perform another miracle and go home?”

“If you must know, I was reprimanded last month,” the blonde supplied quietly. “They said I’d performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel.”

She’d been especially stringent with herself in the weeks leading up to this excursion, working to make sure the higher ups didn’t have cause to do an audit.

“Well, you’re lucky I was in the area, then,” the dark-haired woman teased dryly.

Yes. Lucky.

“I suppose I am,” Kiara admitted. “What are you doing in here?”

Lilian looked away. “My lot gave me a commendation for excellent job performance.”

Kiara’s eyes widened. “So all this is your demonic work?” she pushed as she rose to her feet, glancing out the window where the world had frozen.

That didn’t make sense. Lilian’s machinations were never specifically bloody (Job’s kids and his children were a technically – the demon hadn’t actually harmed a hair on their bodies, save for a little mental scarring and Kiara’s nagging suspicion that the youngest of Job had spent years trying to scale walls once again.) And this was brutality, raw and swift.

“No, the humans thought it up themselves,” Lilian answered. “Nothing to do with me. I told you, clever machines to kill each other.”

She snapped her fingers and the manacles dropped from Kiara’s body, clattering on the stone floor. With a small noise of relief, Kiara started massaging her wrists.

“Well, I suppose I should say thank you for the um … rescue,” the blonde said.

Lilian rose gracefully and fluidly from her seat. “Don’t say that. If my people hear that I rescued an angel, I’ll be the one in trouble and my people … do not send rude notes.”

“Well, either way, I’m very grateful,” Kiara retorted. “What about if I buy you lunch?”

“Looking like that?” A smile tugged at the demon’s lips.

Kiara sighed, scrunching her nose in distaste as she miracled the executioner’s clothes onto her body and vice versa. “Well, it barely counts as a miracle, really,” she commented, stepping shoulder-to-shoulder with Lilian.

The demon raised her hands and snapped her fingers, letting the world start to turn again as the executioner continued his statement.

Realization dawned on Jean-Claude as his hands touched the finery now adorning his body and the guards strode through the door to escort him out.

“Dressed like that, he’s asking for trouble,” Lilian drawled sardonically. “What’s for lunch?”

A mischievous smirk danced across the angel’s face. “What would you say to some crepes?”

~*~

“So tell me, Angel, what really brought you to this hotbed of turmoil and sin?” Lilian asked as she pulled the knife through the crepe with an ease that belied the strength in the action.

“I told you, it was the crepes,” the angel insisted. She fiddled with her own utensils.

“Oh come off it, you and I both know that you could have popped in and out before any of those bumbling fools noticed you,” Lilian retorted as she took a bite. She stabbed the air between them with her now-empty fork. “No, I’m betting there was something else.”

“It could be crepes,” Kiara muttered. “You know I’ve always been fond of them.”

Before humans had had proper time to devote to art and leisure and were toiling all day in the fields, foods had been her gateway temptation, with Lilian and Kiara sneaking away from their realm’s gazes to partake in whatever new delicacy the demon had stumbled upon.

“Yes, I suppose, but I know you’re fonder yet of fine art and, in particular, several rarer pieces that I know for a fact were housed in the palace of King Louie XVI and his … extravagant wife. That would be perfect tinder for a mob’s bonfire,” the demon drawled with a knowing smirk. She leaned across the table, her glasses sliding lower on the bridge of her nose so she could peer at the blonde. “Have you been looting the palace, Angel?”

Kiara fidgeted in her seat, stabbing a strawberry with an unnecessary amount of force. “Well, I couldn’t just let them be destroyed.”

“That’s positively sinful of you,” Lilian cackled as she threw back her head.

The blonde blushed, feeling the flush creep up her cheeks. “It’s not really! I’m not keeping it for myself or anything so … selfish. I’m redistributing it to people who could have potentially owned it if the piece’s previous owners had been aware of the peril!”

“You say tomato, I say breaking a commandment,” the demon teased. “Thou shall not steal, Angel…”

She should have been more affronted by a demon’s insult to her honor, but this was Lilian.

“Well, I couldn’t sit back and allow another Alexandria situation. All that precious knowledge – gone forever,” Kiara rationalized before she took a bite. She closed her eyes in delight as the taste hit her tongue. “I told you no where makes them like Paris.”

“Would it be worth all the paperwork if you’d have been discorporated?” Lilian prodded, her eyes gleaming playfully.

Seeing Lilian was worth the paperwork. The crepes were just a nice bonus.