#although it is planned for fractured souls

[imtrashraccoon]

As requested by my friend @superbfirnacho here are my headcanons on Monster Courting and Soul Children. Oh, and I included Heats. So yeah, mild content warning for mentions of sex but I promise it isn't graphic.

Heats/Monster Courting

Not sure if I'll actually use this, but it's an idea I wrote down for that Underfell fic, Fractured Souls, that I have yet to finish writing.

Monsters are made almost entirely of magic and are very connected to their souls. Now, there are so many different kinds of monster subspecies, that not every monster is physically compatible together except for when they combine their magic.

Generally, a soul bond is done first and is almost akin to marriage for monsters. Two monsters who love each other and want to be together for the rest of their lives will join their magic and souls together. This ritual is usually done in public in front of their friends and family so that everyone knows the two are a couple. The couple usually hold hands and then tune the magical vibrations of their souls together.

From this point on, the two souls are essentially one and there are a few benefits to doing so. One, both of their magic is strengthened and stabilized to make them compatible with each other. Two, both can sense and feel each other's strong emotions, even when apart. Three, they can sense if something happens to the other or they get hurt. Easily the most important part of a soul bond though, is that it is the first step towards having children.

To have children, if the couple isn't physically compatible, they generally perform another ritual where they combine their magic to create a child. This is often done by physical soul contact and is a private affair. After this, one of the monsters will carry the child in their soul until it is strong enough to survive on its own. Generally, this is the stronger monster but this isn't a set rule and is really only a way for the child to survive. When the child is strong enough, their soul will leave the parent's soul and the child's body will form from their magic.

While monsters are people just like anyone, they have a different reproductive system than humans do. At least once a year, most monsters experience a heat of sorts where they have the best chance to conceive a child and will seek out other compatible partners. This heat usually lasts a week and during that time the monster's magic is more active and volatile. Their body temperature also increases and they have increased libedo.

Generally, most monsters know how to deal with themselves during a heat and couples often have them at the same time. However, younger monsters have a harder time dealing with it but anyone can lose control of themselves if they aren't careful and hurt someone. Nowadays, there is medicine to help stabilize one's magic and make the heat less intense but heats are pretty unpredictable and can technically happen at anytime, especially if there is a compatible partner or if it's been a while since they actually tried to do anything with anyone.

While things can get out of turn during a heat, most monsters are able to control their desires and won't actually hurt anyone. However, there are instances of violence and assault that still happen. Justice is taken very seriously in these cases with both the monster government and individuals enacting justice and revenge as seen fit.

This idea isn't exactly original to me since these tropes are pretty common in most fics. I also love to go with the idea that since both partners' souls are connected, their lives are also extended to match the magic boost. So...a human can live several hundred years with their monster lover...

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)  MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit 

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con 

Content Warnings: Dubious Consent, Prostitution, Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi, F/F 

Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character(s), Nanami Kento/Original Female Character(s), Getou Suguru/Original Female Character(s), Ieiri Shoko & Iori Utahime 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Okkotsu Yuuta, Toudou Aoi, Zenin Naobito, Zenin Jinichi, Zenin, Zenin Ougi, Fushiguro Megumi, Kamo Clan, Nitta Akari, Inumaki Toge, Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime, Kusakabe Atsuya, Muta Kokichi, Itadori Yuuji, Hakari Kinji

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Chapter 2 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

In the heart of the city, where the neon lights flicker like stars against the canvas of the night, there lurked a man, his mind lost in the labyrinth of hallucination. A soul tangled in the web of his own unraveling sanity. As the man stumbled down the alleys, the shadows morphed into twisted figures, dancing to the rhythm of his fractured mind.

Faces contorted into grotesque masks, whispering secrets that only he can hear. He tried to shake off the hallucinations, but they clung to him like a shroud. In the dimly lit corners, monstrous silhouettes lurked, their eyes gleaming with malevolence. His heart raced as he quickened his pace, each step echoing against the pavement like a drumbeat of impending doom.

Suddenly, from the depths of the darkness, a figure clad in crimson emerged, a demon's mask obscuring half his face. The hallucinating man's breath caught in his throat as he met the gaze of those fiery eyes, burning with an otherworldly intensity. With a swift motion, the red-masked man lunged forward, his hand striking the man's temple with a force that sent him spiraling into oblivion. As his consciousness faded, the neon lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors, and the man was consumed by the void.

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

Geto confidently walked down the corridor of their headquarters, casually placing his hands in his pockets and humming a tune. His mask swung loosely around his neck, while his partially unbuttoned crimson shirt added to his signature style. As he reached the corner, he lightly tapped on Yaga's office door with the back of his hand, patiently anticipating Yaga's gruff response.

"Enter." Yaga grunted, just as expected.

"Morning, boss." Geto said with an easy smile on his lips, "I ran into something interesting last night. I wanted to get your thoughts before I move on my own plan."

"Alright." Yaga answered, tapping his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him, "Tell me."

Geto pulled over a rolling chair and sat down, "On my patrol I ran into a man severely intoxicated. I assumed at first he had just overdone it, but the smell coming off of him was like pure cursed blood. And on top of that, he had little small curses dripping out from behind him. Tiny things, but lots of them like little sweat drops."

He spun his hand with a dramatic gesture, causing a collection of tiny curses to materialize on Yaga's desk. These curses were no larger than a thumb and promptly joined hands as they gathered. Yaga arched an eyebrow, observing the miniature curses as they proceeded to stroll hand-in-hand in a small circle on his desk.

"So you're suggesting whatever he was on was making this happen?" Yaga asked as Geto scooped the curses back up.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting." Geto nodded, "It seems to have an effect somewhat like acid. He was most certainly hallucinating when I saw him, although he wasn't enjoying it."

"So what is your plan going forward?" Yaga asked, tapping his cigarette once again.

"I plan to bring him down to Tenjiku. The girls have a doctor there who can probably figure it out." Geto said, sitting back in his chair, "That is, unless you'd rather I keep it quiet for now."

"Let's keep it quiet while also investigating." Yaga said, "Take him there. Deal with Rin or Sarah only on this matter. Keep it from the other girls for now."

"Understood." Geto nodded, standing up, "I'll report in after I get some information."

After that, Geto exited the office and made his way through the numerous hallways within their headquarters. Resembling a traditional Japanese residence, the interior was predominantly made of wood and featured shogi screens, contrasting with the cold concrete exterior. The neutral tones were occasionally complemented by vibrant hues from the scrolls adorning the walls, giving the place a touch of understated sophistication.

"Fuck outta here, bitch!" Gojo's voice interrupted Geto's train of thought as a young woman hurriedly made her way down the hallway. Her attire was disheveled, with her dress only partially zipped up, as she hastily headed towards the exit, closely followed by Gojo. He was without a shirt, his pants barely fastened enough to stay in place, and he clutched onto his t-shirt tightly, his knuckles turning white. Geto entered the hallway with a sigh, raising his hand.

"I told you to get out last night!" He shouted after her, stopping against Geto's arm, "Fuck off! You ain't special!"

"Enough, Satoru." Geto sighed, "She's already leaving."

"Can you believe that?" Gojo grunted, wiping off the corner of his lips with his thumb, "She actually had the balls to stay here last night."

"Yeah?" Geto chuckled, "Brave girl." He hesitated for a moment, tilting his head to admire her figure as she dashed out the front door, "Was she any good?"

"Eh." Satoru grinned, "I've had better."

"Well," Geto turned down the hall towards his original destination, "In any case, I've got something to do today."

"Going to Tenjiku, by any chance?" Gojo asked, pulling his t-shirt on over his head, "I think I left my sunglasses there last night. I need 'em back."

"You have other pairs." Geto said as he walked down the hall, "I'll ask, but I'm sure it's not a problem right?"

"Ah, yeah." Gojo shrugged, "Right. Yeah, I've got others." He ran his hand back through his hair, watching as Geto slid open the door to the stairs before he wandered back to his room.

Going down the stairs to the basement, Geto turned on the light switch. The fluorescent lights buzzed to life, the sound of electricity bouncing off the cement walls. Walking past the steel cells, he entered the interrogation room where the man he had captured the previous night was still unconscious, tied to a metal chair.

Pulling out his phone, he tapped a contact and sent a voice message. "Inumaki, could you come downstairs and help me with a guest?"

Geto got to work, releasing the man from his restraints and grabbing additional sedatives. After filling a syringe, he sealed it and tucked it into his blazer pocket as a precaution. Returning to the man, he nudged his shoe to partially awaken him from his daze. 

"Are you awake?" Geto inquired, bending over to open the man's eyelids and peer into his unfocused eyes, "Are you alert enough to listen to me?"

The man gave a lazy nod, his head tilting to the side. His mouth was agape, with saliva trickling down onto his dress shirt. Looking back, Geto considered that he might have gone too far with the sedatives. However, considering how the man had been spewing curses non-stop, it felt like the right decision at that moment. Even if he had passed away, it would have been preferable to more curses emerging.

"Good!" Geto smiled, patting the man's cheek as he stood again. 

While Geto searched through the man's pockets, Inumaki entered the room. Despite his small stature, Inumaki's purple eyes exuded a menacing aura. His black mask, resembling an Oni but with a muzzle, was firmly fastened to his face with metal clasps. Due to his cursed speech abilities, he was deemed particularly hazardous, hence the added security of his mask.

Inumaki greeted his superior by raising his hand, to which Suguru responded in kind. Gesturing towards the man, Suguru requested, "Can you use your technique to make him follow me?"

Inumaki gave a silent nod as he removed his mask. His tongue briefly stuck out, displaying the round tattoo on it. Stepping closer, he leaned in and softly uttered, "Follow him," making sure only the man sitting nearby could hear.

Rising from his seat, the man obeyed without question, getting in line behind Geto. Inumaki gave Geto a thumbs up as he replaced the mask on his face. Geto nodded, "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Come with me to Tenjiku." Geto said after a moment, "I may need you again." 

Inumaki nodded, making the signs for, "Should we bring others?"

"Not this time." Suguru shook his head, "I'll trust that you can keep this quiet for now." He chuckled a little at his own joke, then moved past Inumaki towards the hallway with the cells.

They made it back up to the highest level, and then they stepped outside onto the bustling streets. Geto quickly secured his mask, the bright red paint reflecting the sunlight. The man obediently trailed behind, with Inumaki's technique occupying his thoughts as they confidently walked through the busy streets.

Two sorcerers was enough for people to clear a path on their own, but only very specific sorcerers chose to fashion their masks like Oni. Averting their gazes, the locals knew not to get too close and any outsiders stared with curiosity. It was clear they were not a pair to be trifled with, especially not when a non-sorcerer trailed behind them in some kind of stupor.

"Inumaki," Geto said thoughtfully, glancing at the young man, "You've been with us for about a year now, correct?"

Inumaki nodded.

"How old are you?" Geto asked.

"Seventeen, sir." Inumaki signed.

Geto looked the young man over. Lovely sharp purple eyes. A decent face under that mop of gray hair and he was in great shape even if he was short. Geto nodded before he smiled a sly cat-like smile.

"Have we taken you to Tenjiku yet?" He asked, "Because I think you just turned eighteen."

Inumaki's cheeks flushed a little and Geto laughed, "Don't worry. They don't bite unless you ask them too."

As they made their way up the grand entrance, climbing the marble stairs and passing through the hall, the two individuals escorted their prisoner to the front desk. Geto greeted the hostess with a smile, causing her to giggle and playfully twirl her finger in her hair. Before turning his attention to Inumaki, he winked mischievously.

"Hey," his voice was low, almost a purr, "I need to speak with either Rin or Sarah if you wouldn't mind finding them for me. I'm going to take this young man to meet with some of the girls, so we'll be on the floor."

She nodded, "Yes, sir. Of course." She giggled again, "Go right ahead."

Inumaki cleared his throat, awkwardly following Geto. The older man looked back with an easy smile, "Relax, you'll be just fine. We'll find you a girl that likes inexperienced ones."

"Geto." A voice grumbled, and Geto's smile faltered as he spotted Utahime approaching.

Dressed in her typical tailored suit, her sleek dark hair was neatly pulled back keeping her classic Japanese beauty on display. Leading the bars and hostesses, she set the standard for the other non-pleasure based staff to follow. Standing confidently in front of Geto, she exuded authority with her hands on her hips.

"Is this kid even old enough to be here?" She asked, "There are rules, ya know."

"He just turned eighteen last week, right?" Geto asked playfully, giving a nudge to the young man. Swiftly, he wrapped his arm around Utahime's waist and guided her towards the bar. "Why don't you fill me in on your day? I wouldn't mind trying one of those unique drinks you've been concocting. What was the name of the last one you had me taste?"

Inumaki found himself alone suddenly, uncertain of the appropriate course of action. A moment of hesitation was all he got before he resolved to trail after Geto, only to encounter an unexpected interruption from a gathering of elegant women. Their discerning gazes meticulously scrutinized him, while their lips, adorned with a delicate touch of artistry, gracefully uttered words of admiration and curiosity. A profound blush tinged his cheeks, as their collective excitement resonated through the air, compelling him to succumb to their enchantment. With a harmonious chorus of delight, they gently guided him away from the grandeur of the atrium, into a realm of unknown allure.

"You're such an ass." Utahime grunted, swatting Geto's arm off of her. With a sigh, she led him to the bar and watched the non-sorcerer wobble after him. "Who's the stiff?" 

"Oh, no he's still alive." Suguru answered, waving his hand, "I'm coming to have Shoko check him out."

"Really?" Utahime asked, looking the man over, "Shit, he's really fucked up. Why do you need to see Shoko?"

"Can't talk about it for now." Suguru said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, "I'm sure you'll find out later. Shoko tells you everything."

"She'd better." Utahime grumbled as she mixed him a drink, then shifted her gaze back to Geto, "Anything interesting going on that you care to share?"

"Ah, no. Nothing that I'd care to share with the biggest gossip." Geto chuckled, Utahime clicking her tongue. 

"Well, then who are you waiting on?" She asked, pouring the drink into a crystal glass and sliding it over to him, "I think the only one of the big three that's in today is Rin and she--"

Geto coughed into his drink for a moment then cleared his throat. "Sarah isn't here today?" He asked.

"She had a job from the Zen'in today." Utahime shrugged, "Something hush hush apparently, but she'll be gone until tomorrow morning."

"Damn." Suguru sighed, "What about Boe?"

"She's out scouting a new camp." Utahime shrugged, leaning on the bar with one hand, "Curses are congregating in one spot again so she's gonna either clear it or make some kind of truce."

"So only Rin is here to--"

"Geto." Rin said, her heels clicking on the tile as she approached, "What can I do for you today?"

Geto smiled, turning to face Rin. "Well, good to see you too." He chuckled, "I just haven't seen you since we had that wonderful meeting two weeks ago."

"Right." She nodded, her expression partially hidden by her mask, "Of course. Well, it has been lovely."

Geto rolled his eyes, "Alright, fine." He stood up straight, "I need to see Shoko."

"Is it an emergency?" Rin asked, "I can't guarantee that Shoko has time to see you."

"Depends on what you'd call an emergency." Geto said with a small shrug, "So, how about we talk in private?"

"Ah." Rin nodded in understanding, "Follow me then, please."

They walked through the atrium together once more, climbing the black marble steps. Geto decided to keep his hands in his pockets this time, saving his charming looks and playful smiles for the ladies for later. With Rin by his side, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. 

She extended her hand towards the brass handle of the main office door, but before she could grasp it, Geto beat her to it and pulled it open. He then stepped aside, giving a slight bow with a smile. Despite his polite gesture, she simply glanced ahead and walked past him. No words were exchanged, but he already understood that his actions would go unappreciated.

"Explain yourself." Rin said calmly, letting her fingertips trace across the wood of the large desk, "Shoko is a very busy woman. Why should she take the time to help out Yaga's group specifically?"

That's why he preferred to work with Sarah. Rin understood the delicate balance of Tenjiku very well. She couldn't just let him do whatever he wanted, and she wouldn't relent easily no matter how much he toyed with her. Although Sarah would have questioned him, she would have been quick to agree if he irritated her enough. Rin, on the other hand, seemed to take pleasure in making him uncomfortable.

"In this particular case," Geto explained, "This man seems to be secreting tiny curses from his body. He was under the influence of some kind of drug last night which is what I assume the curses are originating from."

Rin shifted the hefty leather chair, smoothing out her skirts as she settled down elegantly. Opening a drawer, she placed a notepad and a particular pen on the desk. Jotting down his words, she then looked back up at him. 

"Is this man still alive?" She asked, looking at the man in question as he swayed gently behind Geto.

"He is." Geto nodded, "Heavily sedated and under a cursed technique, but very alive."

Finishing her note, she capped the pen once again and lifted up the pad of paper. Waving her hand over it, the words faded from view and she gently placed it back on the desk once more. 

"Are we assuming this is some new type of synthetic?" Rin asked, "I remember we had a similar situation last time a new drug was circulating."

"Probably?" Geto said with a shrug, "To me, it looked as if he was hallucinating and his body was sweating more than it likely should have."

"Was he alone?" She stood again, her eyes flicking up to his momentarily before down to the notepad again.

"Yes." Geto answered with a nod, "Although if he did have any companions he'd long since lost them when he was trying to escape the hallucinations."

They paused a moment as writing began to appear on the notepad in front of her. "Alright. She's agreed. Please follow me." Rin said as she approached the back wall of the office.

Geto politely turned his head away as she gently rested her hand on the wall, tracing a delicate pattern on the vibrant red wood. As soon as the door slid open, she discreetly cleared her throat before confidently descending into the hidden passage. He quietly followed suit along with his captive, his eyes gradually adapting to the darkness that enveloped them as the door silently slid shut.

Into a large sterile room, his nostrils were immediately assailed by the smell of cleaning supplies and alcohol. A row of large metal tables sat empty in the center of the room, a rolling table beside one of them mercifully empty for now. Steel cabinets lined the walls and shelves of liquids in mysterious jars and a single solitary door that simply read, "Do Not Enter".

Shoko emerged from the doorway, clad in her typical lab coat layered over a cozy sweater and trousers. The dark circles under her eyes were a constant reminder of her never-ending workload. With a cigarette perched between her lips, she observed Geto and his companion with a hint of curiosity in her brown eyes.

"This the guy?" Shoko said, walking up to the man. Her hand gripped his chin, turning his head side to side as she looked him over, "He's absolutely blasted on sedatives. You could have killed him, idiot."

"Well, I wasn't exactly sure how much to use." Geto said with an uncaring scoff, "He's not dead, so it's alright."

"It's difficult to examine someone this messed up." She grumbled, "His body is all kinds of screwed up." 

"Well, just do your best I guess." He said with a lazy wave of dismissal, "I'll come back when you're done."

Shoko rolled her eyes, "Right. Sure." 

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

Nanami took a deep breath, inhaling through his nose to clear his mind. Gripping his dull sword tightly, he swung open the metal gate before him and confidently entered the compound. His brows were knitted together in deep concentration, his gaze fixed firmly on his objective. This mission was one he was determined to complete without leaving a single person alive, except for his intended targets.

As he walked forward, a man yelled about unwelcome intruders as he appeared from behind a corner. Completely disregarded, his body was sliced in an instant by Nanami's sword, glowing with cursed energy. Blood sprayed like a paint on the ground as Nanami made his way to the front door without even a second glance.

As he walked through the hallways and chambers, there wasn't a soul left breathing. It didn't matter if they were men, women, humans, or even cursed beings. None of them could claim innocence. Despite their feeble attempts at justifying their actions, they were mercilessly slain and left to suffocate on their own blood.

He angrily marched through the spacious lab, passing by the chilling examination tables. The room was filled with gruesome evidence of cruelty. Jars containing organs, eyes, and tongues displayed on the wall like macabre decorations, all meticulously clean and spotless. Poorly drawn diagrams hinted at the experiments conducted on their unfortunate subjects, in a futile attempt to uncover a distinction that probably didn't even exist beyond the ability to manipulate cursed energy.

He remained unwavering in his determination until he located the intended individuals. Even at that moment, his face remained unchanged as he observed the sorcerers who were tied up and silenced. Not even when he noticed the marks of their mistreatment and carried out medical experiments. Not even when they cried tears of gratitude upon being released from their restraints.

Only when he got the call from a room nearby did a grin break out from behind his golden Oni mask. 

"Nanamiiii~!" The voice cackled, "Found them."

Sarah, true to form, didn't bother to wait for him at the front gate. It was no surprise that the guards were already on high alert, having detected the powerful Sorcerers in their sinister abode. She had taken matters into her own hands, causing chaos and taking down any threats that crossed her path.

Nanami pushed the remains of the shattered door aside finding Sarah standing over a man with her foot on his throat and a woman in her grasp held against the desk. "This is them." She gritted, "Mr. and Mrs. Hayashida."

In Sarah's free hand was a long hooked sword, a cruel choice of weapon even for her. Its pair hung off the hook on the hilt, resting against the thigh of Mr. Hayashida. The silver edges of both swords were tainted with crimson, while the bone handles had taken on a grimy, brown hue. Glancing back at Nanami, Sarah's face contorted into a sinister smile.

"Zen'in asked for them alive." She said, "So I'll leave them to you. I don't think I have the self control."

Nanami lowered his mask, letting it hang around his neck to ask, "Were there any other captives?"

Sarah shook her head, dropping the woman on the floor and letting her crawl to her husband. "None that deserved to live with what was done to them."

Nanami caught a glimpse of the extensive scar stretching across her back, from shoulder to hip, as she turned around. The scar was deeply etched, at least half an inch in depth, and had a vivid red hue. It was a topic she would never discuss, not even with those who were close enough to know the truth.

"I'm still itching." She gritted, sliding the weapons into the scar as she produced a long gleaming sword from it instead. She hesitated before turning back to look at him, "What does Yaga want? That's why he sent you, right? Instead of the slut or the crack head, yeah?"

"He wants their medical documentation." Nanami answered, "If there is anything of use, he wants to utilize it for us."

"Cool." She pointed the sword at the computer on the desk, "Their security is shit. I had Muta clear a path for me."

"Muta?" Nanami raised an eyebrow, "Isn't that one of Kamo's?"

"Yeah." Sarah huffed, "He's already copying the information onto a hard drive." Reaching into her pocket she clicked her phone on, "I'll ask him to make you a copy. Text me when you're ready and I'll meet you out front."

Nanami glanced around as she stepped out into the hallway again. Her light blue oni mask hung loosely around her neck, and her intense green eyes stayed focused on the shadows ahead. Taking her time, she set off on her mission to discover any hidden creatures. No rush needed, as there was nowhere for them to run.

He made sure the two leaders were secure, then pushed them up and guided them into the main experimentation room. There, the prisoners had regained enough composure to stand and had covered their exposed bodies with whatever clothing they could find. Nanami felt a wave of nausea as he saw some of the youngest captives, including a little boy who couldn't have been older than five, among them.

He showcased the individuals who'd been leading the cruel torture directly in front of everyone. Their gazes fixated on the duo, their hollow and vacant stares filled with a sense of dread. Nanami remained silent, ensuring that each captive had a clear view as he guided them towards the exit.

"Come with me." He said to the captives, "We'll get you somewhere safe and have your wounds treated."

They walked out behind him through the chain link fence and onto the street. It was really surprising that a place like this could exist within the city limits, especially under the control of such extremists. Sorcerers were already unpopular, but this level of mistreatment was just unacceptable.

Nanami checked his watch, and right on time, a large white van pulled up. Kusakabe, the driver, gave him a short salute. Nanami nodded back in greeting to the driver as he walked around and opened the back of the van. He shoved the two leaders into the back, then he turned to the captives with an even expression.

"The drive is about twenty minutes." He explained, then said nothing else. The implications were clear as he stepped aside, letting the captives into the small space with free reign, "Keep them alive." He mumbled, uncaring if they actually followed his direction.

Kusakabe leaned out the window, "All set?" He called, getting a nod from Nanami as the blond closed the back doors of the van.

As it pulled away, Nanami dialed Sarah's number on his phone. She answered with a huff, "Done?" 

"Yes. I'm waiting out front." Nanami said.

After ending the call, she promptly joined him. Gazing up at him, she completed the text she had been composing before tucking her phone away in her denim shorts. Her blood-soaked white shirt was stained, and her mask dangled loosely, even in the presence of humans. She never really bothered with such matters, and Nanami longed to possess her carefree attitude towards it all.

"Muta is almost done." She said, "C'mon. I've got a hotel room down the street. We can change and clean up while we wait for the kid."

Nanami's expression twisted into a fierce frown as they strolled towards the hotel. The sickness and anger within them refused to dissipate, fueled by the unfairness sorcerers endured simply for being born with powers. It was evident that none of those sorcerers posed any danger, or perhaps they were simply unaware of how to be threatening. This ignorance likely made them prime candidates for cruel experimentation.

Sarah wasted no time stripping down once she entered the hotel room. Nanami, being a gentleman, averted his gaze as he passed by the bathroom door and went to the window. From there, he could see the entire compound and noticed the various watch posts set up by other sorcerers who had joined forces with Sarah for the rescue mission.

"How many captives survived?" She called from the bathroom, over the sound of the shower.

"Eight." Nanami answered.

She clicked her tongue and Nanami heard a thud on the tile that was likely her fist striking in frustration. "Those bastards."

"How many did you mercy kill?" Nanami asked.

"Fourteen." She answered, more quietly than before, "They wouldn't have been able to live anyway."

Nanami let out a slow breath, shutting his eyes. It was all so repulsive, yet sadly not uncommon. Humans were adamant about trying to prove that Sorcerers were some sort of curse or mysterious entity, and this marked the third instance of a facility being established solely for studying these supposed disparities.

"Muta is gonna meet us up here with the hard drives." She called, "I'm almost done, just rinsing all this off."

"Not a problem." He replied, "Take your time."

After almost thirty minutes, Nanami emerged from the bathroom, freshly cleaned up, only to see Sarah engaged in conversation with a young man who was clearly Muta. The slender teenager, probably around seventeen years old, sported a top knot with dark brown hair and was dressed entirely in black. His intense black gaze met Nanami's with caution.

"Muta, Nanami." Sarah said quickly to introduce them, then pointed to the table where two hard drives sat, "Take one when you go, Nanami."

Nanami nodded, picking up the black device in his hand, "This is all of it?"

"Yeah, it's all there." The kid nodded, "Everything they did and planned to do as well as the database where they stored their own personal records. I also put in their email correspondence, some of them weren't currently at that facility and we can probably track them down this way."

"Good work." Nanami said, sliding the device into the pocket of the clean sweat pants he'd put on. Sarah must have left them for him. As cold as she was, she genuinely tried to be accommodating when she could. 

Pulling on his jacket over his bare chest, he fastened his mask on again. His bloody clothes had been placed into a plastic bag and he scooped it up by the door, "Need any help with cover up?" He asked, slipping his feet into his shoes.

"Nah, no worries." Sarah answered, "I have taken care of. Stay safe."

And with that, Nanami left.

Nanami preferred jobs like this that were fast and effective, making sure to wrap things up neatly without any unnecessary drama.

The hard drive in his pocket felt heavy with sin, making him constantly think about the extreme lengths humans would go to in the name of justice. Lately, their desperation seemed to be spiraling out of control, especially with a potential curse candidate running for office and the sorcerers strongly advising against making a reckless decision.

He clicked his tongue in frustration, looking ahead at the crowd as the neon lights flashed to life above and the city came to life once again.

⤶ Prev Main Next ��

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

re parent regret article.... recently got my mom to admit she and my dad are deeply unhappy and the only reason they got married and had kids (in their early 20s, and it has dictated every moment of their lives since) is because it was what was expected of them and they felt like it was just the thing to do ... its very upsetting to think of how unhappy and unfulfilled my parents are but at the same time its kind of freeing because I understand a lot of their actions better now and their inability to raise us and give me the care I needed. this year I am older than my parents were when they had my oldest sibling and I kind of feel like im older than them now because theyve never fully grown past that point at least not as individuals. ya I suppose everyone has their paths in life and it all fits together and works and means something but it is very sad to realize your childhood was painful because your parents were really just not suited to be parents and couldn't have done any better. im trying to not be weighed down by their lack of self actualization and to be an example for them by manifesting my life in the way I want despite them being upset by it, and to encourage them to become real people now that theyre 60.. umm ya sorry your inbox has become my therapy sessions recently it just feels so much better to confess these things anonymously and write it all out to someone instead of trying to explain to someone face to face and have it deal with their responses. plus i think u understand a lot of my issues although objectively our lives are quite different! anyway yeah hope you have a nice day!!!! xoxo 2012 :3

ilu <3 i relate to much of this i will detail my thoughts below , im glad my inbox can be of use to u i believ The Confessional is a very necessary function in society it can be so transcendent to get something off your chest w/o having to affect your personal life in any way ^^ and i did have a super nice day ty i hope u did too..<3 :readmore:

it is really crazy to think about the pressure ppl face to start families , seems to be less prevalent now but yeah even 20-30 yrs ago it was just, What You Do.. for my parents, they were in love, and i think they rly did want kids, they were together for 5 years before doing it they planned it out, i DO believe they were soulmates. but then once the reality set in idrk there was just this disconnect. my dad was the more nurturing parent, and he had kids from a prior marriage so he knew wat he was in for, i think he missed my brothers a lot so he had perspective. i assume anyway. but he was also major alcoholic which i thought was normal for so long (in england it is i spose). that took up a lot of his time. i know so little about him or his inner workings its quite torturous to me lol.

and my mom is still alive but i know so little about her too, other than stuff i learned thru drunken outbursts. when i try to ask her anything remotely personal or emotional now she stonewalls me so hard :/ she's always just been closed. her childhood was Horrific tho like both her parents were still minors when she was born, her mom is a WW2 orphan and her dad was a delinquent forced to enlist in the navy instead of being sent to juvie. all the stuff she HAS revealed to me abt her life is absolutely bats**t. its awful like i genuinely can not feel a single morsel of bitterness towards my mom knowing wat she's been thru.

that being said i WAS extremely angry at her for a big portion of my life its been a journey to unravel. but at this point i feel so much forgiveness idek how i got here or when. but i love her unconditionally! i also feel that my moms self actualization was rly stunted, not even by having kids but by my dads death, and being left with these kids she has to care for alone, oh god if i try to imagine how she felt it turns my insides to stone. like it really fractured her soul and made existing problems spiral out of control. although that being said she is doing WAY better now in comparison to the past, im rly proud of her. when we talk i try to always encourage her like u say..

really the best medicine is being able to zoom out and view the big picture of Life, not just your life but how all our lives fit together, when you zoom out you can spot the patterns find the order in the chaos. for ages n ages i cldnt understand the reason everything in my life was hell while all these other ppl i knew seemed to have it so normal. Nowadays i can understand how it lead me here, the trajectory and timing of everything, it brought me a lot of EXPerience i can use to help others..Even just by having this blog where i can talk about vulnerable topics , ppl tell me it helps them, i begin to see a new sense of value in my endured sufferings. if i feel like im healing someone that heals me ..

thanx for the msg :] ermm i hope my response dont come off as traumadumping or something LOL i write this all with a matter-of-fact tone in mind. just explaining some stuff for anyone who may need it. hope u have a good night 2012-chan keep shining bright for your family.. <3pmd9

[blondiest]

16, 22, 29 for the fanfic asks !! i hope you have a safe flight to your timezone <3

hello!! 🥰 tysm, i'm actually only flying back to Amsterdam tonight but i cannot WAIT to fly back to the USA tomorrow 😭 i miss my cats too much rn

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

GSGSHGH RETROACTIVELY REALIZED I. DIDN'T ANSWER THIS. the answer is that it varies tbh— sometimes i know right at the start, other times i have to figure something out right before posting lol

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

TOTALLY depends. i sometimes have no idea when i start, but i usually have a pretty decent concept of it by the time i start posting. some fics enter my mind fully formed though. often the ending comes to me very suddenly / all at once lol.

(going to put my thank-you-so-much-🥰 for the ask and the link here bc my last answer gets wordy lol. so. THANK U!! ❣️ fic writer asks)

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

bestie. thank you so much for this excuse to share a chunk of the time loop au. bless your soul. here we go,,, i am putting a good amount of this under a read more bc it's quite long and bc it gets very very slightly suggestive at the very end. uhh. cw for discussions of death / murder i suppose although considering canon i don't think it's anything too graphic hdgdhdhhghhh

“Kill me,” Near whispers, clinging to Mello’s coat, his face only a few breaths away from the blonde’s and the barrel of Mello’s gun a finger-twitch away from putting a bullet in his gut. “Kill me. Maybe it’ll just reset the timeline, but maybe it’ll free you. Kill me. Just promise you’ll stop Yagami if I don’t come back.”

Mello recoils enough to pull the barrel of his gun from where it was pressed into Near’s stomach and turns away to unload the clip, throwing the firearm on the ground when he’s finished. Near remains latched-on, so the front of Mello’s coat is all twisted.

“Are you going to strangle me?” Near asks breathlessly. “I’d prefer something painless, but—”

“I’m not going to fucking kill you,” Mello says, horrified. Considering how many times he’s pointed a gun at Near, he’s got no right to be so aghast at the idea, even if he thinks it’s a stupid one. Besides, it isn’t like he hasn’t killed before, or even like he’s a stranger to killing someone with nothing but his hands.

What’s more is that Mello has died twice now. By all logic, he should be desensitized to death. Actually, he is desensitized to death, generally speaking, but—

But it’s Near.

It’s Near, and whether Mello wants to admit it or not, he’s the only person in the world aside from Matt that Mello cares about. If Mello actually killed him, it’s hard to imagine wanting to go on at all after avenging L.

Despite the fact that Mello has threatened to kill him more times than he can count, and despite the fact that he’s repeatedly professed to hate Near, Mello feels somehow that if he were to kill Near— even if it didn’t take, even if Near came back and was whole and totally himself after— Mello himself would be forever fractured by having done it. By having seen it. He hates the idea of Near’s death by anyone’s hands, actually, and he’s disturbed to find that he’s more violently disgusted by it than the death of L himself.

Mello resolutely refuses to examine that at all.

“It’s fine,” Near is saying, yanking on Mello’s coat and crowding him as the blonde stumbles backwards. “It’s fine, you can be L instead. You can replace me, I know you can replace me, so just kill me—”

“Shut up,” Mello snaps, voice a shade too desperate. He’s becoming increasingly distraught by Near’s morbid pleading; this needs to fucking stop.

But Near doesn’t stop. He talks over Mello with his big, dark eyes shining, determined and a touch manic. “Just kill me, Mello, it’s the only thing we haven’t tried—”

“Shut up, Near, shut the fuck up—”

The white-haired boy continues and Mello loses it, acting on impulse. It’s the first time in years he’s done something with absolutely no foresight to it, evidence of how fucking distressed he is from all of this bullshit. Mello takes a sharp breath in and, grabbing Near’s face with one hand and using his other arm to seize him by the waist, kisses Near hard on the mouth.

He’s not sure how Near is going to respond, and frankly doesn’t much care as long as the younger boy stops talking about his own death for a few fucking seconds. Near shocks him, though; he throws his arms around Mello’s neck and pushes up on his toes, smushing their mouths together harder and letting out a broken, keening sound against Mello’s lips.

Pure impulse can be blamed for the initiation of the kiss, but Mello doesn’t stop, even once he really realizes what he’s doing. He briefly attempts to conjure up an excuse or justification for that, but quickly fails and opts to instead stop thinking altogether. He wraps both arms around Near’s middle and pulls the younger boy almost completely off the ground, nipping harshly at Near’s bottom lip. Near opens his mouth for Mello, clumsy and obviously clueless but somehow all the more tempting as a result, and Mello slips his tongue inside.

The younger boy clings to Mello like a lifeline, kissing him like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do. It occurs to Mello that Near’s team is probably watching this happen on the security cameras. They’ll all have forgotten in seven hours’ time anyway, so it isn’t as if it actually matters, but Mello would prefer to avoid being interrupted.

“Please tell me you have some kind of bedroom,” Mello pulls back just far enough to say.

Near stares at him with blown-out pupils and swollen lips, leaning practically all of his weight on Mello since his feet are just barely on the ground, and nods.

Mello bends to set him back down. Near takes his hand and leads him away from the main room and away from prying eyes.

[galedekarios]

gale never once claims it was without motive. quite the opposite, actually. he had a motive and he tells the player so. he sugarcoats nothing. he's neither lying nor deceiving himself, or the player, about what he did, or why he did it.

he tells us exactly what he wanted:

Gale: We enjoyed each other's company - body, mind and soul. But even so, I desired more. Gale: You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Gale: Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond.

he also tells us exactly what he tried to do to get it at first:

Gale: I tried to convince her. I pouted, I pleaded, I swore my ambition was only to serve her better. But she only smiled and told me to be contented.

and then, when he realised that this would not work, he thinks her denial means he isn't worthy, and that is when he tells us he changed his plans, wishing to impress her so he could be worthy in her eyes to chance at those wonders beyond:

Gale: As inconceivable as it seems to me now, I shared a bed with a goddess and yet I wasn't satisfied. So I sought to prove myself worthy to her instead. Gale: We come now to the crux of my folly. Shall I share the story behind it, or would you rather head straight to its sordid finale? Gale: She restored the Weave, reuniting all its scattered shards. Or so I thought, until in the course of my studies I learned of a book. A Netherese tome in which a piece of the fractured Weave had been sealed beyond her reach. Gale: 'What if', I thought, 'What if after all this time, I could return this lost part of herself to the goddess?'

i also think it's important to note that he didn't seek power, he sought knowledge - although you could argue that for wizards, both are intrinsically tied.

anyhow, gale realises exactly what his mistake was, even describes it as his "folly" and it's no coincidence that he links his story with karsus's own several times over in the telling.

he knows what he did was wrong. he knows where his mistake was. he acknowledges that he thought he knew better than mystra, and he tells us he is the villain of the tale.

it is only in act iii that he truly begins to crave power (in form of the crown) for power's sake - and it's once more spelled out in the game why - because he feels angry and powerless and is absolutely disillusioned with his own goddess (and any of the other gods), who would have had him kill himself and, in his eyes, refuses to help him, help the group, both with the orb and with the tadpoles, two death sentences hanging over him:

Gale: The gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind ao. so let us act ourselves.

Player: Are you saying you want to ascend? Claim godhood? Gale: No, not like that. I don’t want to join them. I want to better them. A god’s powers, paired with a mortal conscience, a mortal heart.

i'm all for a multifaceted gale, yet i feel like we need to look at what he actually says in-game and not conflate separate issues and anecdotes across acts that deserve to be looked at with a bit more nuance than "gale has always been powerhungry!".

Please tell me no one actually bought Gales line about getting the Netherese Orb by trying to return a gift to Mystra with no ulterior motive

The entire point is he's lying/deceiving himself

He convinced HIMSELF he was trying to impress Mystra to prove he was worthy. But he wanted power. He wanted access to the Weave, he wanted more than she was giving him and more than any mortal had access to.

It is NO COINCIDENCE that if he ascends in the end he becomes the God of Ambition, because Ambition has ALWAYS BEEN his biggest flaw/Achilles heel/hubris/crux of issue

Gale sought ULTIMATE power, always. He was always too curious, too certain that HE above anyone else was MOST deserving of power because he would use it the best.

This is a big part of his character

It is what makes him multidimensional, flawed, human - it informs his thoughts on Raphael, the Crown of Karsus, etc. This is the joy who couldn't be told no to a kitten so he summoned a Tressym. This is a student who broke every rule in school just to prove he could do it better. It's huge chunks of his personality

Don't set it aside to make him innocent and perfect. Add it to all that he is as flavor. A little bit of

🌶✨️spice

[indipopcorn]

Through my campaign “Human is near you, you are not alone,” I came across a girl today.

Through my campaign "Human is near you, you are not alone," I came across a girl today.  She wed a man who was picked out by her parents. She is quite culturally savvy and thinks that whatever her parents do is best for her. She married for social reasons even though she later learned that her husband is gay. Given that no Indian girl could possibly consider returning to her parents' home, she has accepted that as her fate.  As her spouse started beating her, this acceptance was no longer helpful to her. He brutally beat her one day, fracturing her as a result. He expelled her from his home, and her parents eventually took her into the hospital.

the moment her parents realised how much pain their daughter was going through. They had plans in place to bring her home, but the child wasn't ready because she was aware of the social mores. She returned to her husband's house with the hope of finding him there, but a few days later, he flatly refused to let her into his life. As a result of the family's support from a few relatives at the time, the girl had the strength to make a choice and went back to live with her parents. Although you might think it was a wise choice, it was the worst one you could have made.  Everywhere she attends a social event, she and her family are met with questions and acts of kindness.

When she speaks to the neighbor's daughter, who used to be a close friend of hers, her parents forbid her from continuing their friendship since she might end up returning to her parents' home like she did. And they had this entire chat in front of her just to make her feel bad. When she tries to express her opinion in any situation, relatives cut her off.   One neighbour claimed that the family was unfortunate since the girl had returned and had tried to smear the girl because of family disputes. This incident made her want to kill herself, but fortunately her parents intervened and stopped her.

The biggest threat to every woman who wants to move past her troubled history is society. Although Ayesha, a young woman who committed suicide while filming it, made headlines, the true villain was society, as we all know. She knew that if she went back to her parents' house, her family would be harassed by neighbours and family members.

Another woman I met wanted to relocate to Australia since she is divorced and daily compromises must be made between her family and her dignity.

Some would argue that women should be independent, and that those who earn well should make the choice.  This is the solution for them.Will you be able to pay your bills if your parents abandoned you and you make 30,000 to 35,000 from a job that is likewise not permanent?   

Men sometimes have to endure great suffering when there is conflict in the marriage. The law protects us from harm, but these words of humiliation go beyond abuse.  It is soul-stirring,.   Many people in my neighbourhood refer to our respected prime minister as "Vandho" since he is single. It demonstrates that our mentality and personal attacks shouldn't be tolerated in any way.  

A link of Human is near you, you are not alone: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100068004775394 Soon it will be on Insta: @journo_dharaa

[wheredafandomat]

Dr. Laufeyson

Chapter 20 - The doctor will cook for you now

A/N: Thank you for reading this ficcc and for all the Lovee 🥰 I love me some Dr Laufeyson 😂 this is the last chapter (let’s just bask in this happiness) I’ll write an epilogue though. Thank you again!!

Previous Chapter

Epilogue

When you made your way into the kitchen, you were happily greeted by the sight of Loki standing at the stove, still thankfully shirtless. You stood at the doorframe, watching him with a small smile on your face as he lowly sang along to the radio he had turned on. Stepping towards him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, rocking slowly as you sang along to the familiar song. At the back of your mind, you knew this was far too intimate but the rest of you, the majority loved this. This was perfect. Great sex, hot shower and now delicious smelling food. This couldn’t be any better.

Feeling you wrap your arms around him, Loki instantly felt relaxed. He turned the heat off as he swayed with you slightly, turning to kiss your temple. He couldn’t explain the feeing he felt being so close to you, so intimate. The feelings he had exceeded sex, lust, pure carnal desire. He wanted you, he knew that already, he knew that he wanted you physically when you first walked into his office, and yet he still found himself craving you deeper as if being completely buried in you, twice, wasn’t enough. He turned around completely, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed you. This was something he wanted again, he needed again. He needed you.

You needed him. Your body craved him. Your soul felt connected to his. You giggled into the kiss when Loki picked you up, seating you on the counter before opening the cupboard near your head and taking out two bowls. He shared out two bowls of what looked like carbonara before handing you one with a fork.

“Bon Appétit.” He grinned, standing between your legs with his own bowl in hand. “Tell me what you honestly think and remember I don’t take criticism well.” He joked, watching you as you gathered up some of the food onto your fork. Taking the forkful, you hummed approvingly as you swallowed. It was delicious.

“You really can cook.” You praised.

“Why thank you.” He smiled widely, taking his own forkful.

“I could get used to this.” You spoke, taking another forkful as you looked down at your bowl.

“I hope you do.” Loki answered absentmindedly, mentally scolding himself when you glanced up at him. “I—um—that sounded weird.” He laughed nervously “I just meant I’d like the opportunity to cook for you again.”

“I’d like that too.” You beamed.

You both continued eating, laughing with one another whenever Loki added a bit more cracked pepper as well as cheese to both your bowls insisting that the tiny splash of added flavour made the biggest difference. The radio continued playing quietly in the background and for a while it was just you, Loki and the low music. When you both finished, Loki took the bowls, leaving them in the sink before he made his way back towards you. His hands found your thighs, caressing them with his thumbs as he looked up at you with an unreadable expression.

“Y/n.” He began, taking a deep breath. “There’s just one problem.”

This was it, the thing that brought you back to reality, the fracture in the perfect life you had stupidly spent the past twenty minutes planning in your head. This was it, it was over.

“I knew it.” You sighed inwardly, mostly talking to yourself as you eased off of the counter.

“Wait.” Loki spoke, holding you in place although now you were slightly closer to him. “I can’t be your therapist anymore because I want to get to know you properly.” He continued, shaping your face with one of his hands whilst the other held your hand. “Romantically, not professionally and in order to do that I can’t be your therapist.”

You sighed a breath of relief.

“That’s understandable.” You agreed.

“But I’ll always be here to help and I know a really good therapist who’d be happy to continue your therapy” He spoke, bringing your hand to his lips.

“I’ve probably screwed them.” You sighed again, thinking out loud causing Lokis eyes to widen slightly.

“It’s a woman.”

Confused, you looked up at him blankly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He smiled, echoing your words.

Once you both finished eating, Loki offered you stay the night again until tomorrow where he’d help you find a key for your apartment before he went to work. As you laid nestled against him, Loki kissed the top of your head before looking up at the ceiling. For the first time In a long time, he felt whole again. Like he belonged again. Like his house wasn’t just this huge mansion, it was a cozy den fit to size.

When the next day came, as promised, Loki helped you retrieve a key which you managed to get from Bucky’s apartment after visiting him. When you arrived home, you felt like a child, giggling as you hugged your pillow thinking about Loki. When he messaged you asking whether you’d like to come for dinner again tomorrow, you jumped at the chance. For the first time, in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay, you felt wanted, properly cared for.

Loki put you in touch with a new therapist who you thankfully hadn’t slept with and who was very patient, understanding and overall amazing. She was definitely helpful and you got on with her quickly. As promised, Loki was with you every step of the way. When you both began officially dating, things got even better. Life felt complete again.

The End

A/N: Thought I’d end it on a high note 😁 thank you for reading!! 💗💗 I’m gonna do an epilogue so if you’ve got any questions/things that weren’t really explained or anything and you wanna see in the epilogue, let me know!! 😘

Tags:

@michelleleewise @lokisprettygirl22 @mischief2sarawr @eyesbluelikethetitanic @lokiprompts21 @lucylaufeyson3 @howdidurhammergrowchris @consistentreader578 @mcufan72 @lokixryss @jaspearl31 @deathlydelusion @emma-laufeyson @multifandom-world8 @lulubelle814 @ppartridgee @geekwritersworld @kats72 @123forgottherest @lokisninerealms @niastyles @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @vickie5446

[ask-the-amph-greater-universe]

Moon and Sun kind of glare after him. Sun in the more irritated way. While Moon just looks like he's dealt with a child he doesn't want to deal with again. This is definitely an arcade-centric area. Almost every area has an arcade attached. (Although I'm still figuring out locations) Eclipse switches to a lighter more Blue Moon tone. Suddenly asking them where he came from, who he is, What is he planning to do. Planet is more staring with a glared confusion. She's following after eclipse and Blackstar because she wants to make sure they're safe. Blackstar still keeps an eye on fracture. Allowing eclipse to basically do the questioning. He's very intrigued by just the amount of pure black the bear has.

-

It's going to be so weird for the arcade characters to see duplicates. This is non Cannon. And so dimensional travel isn't really a thing. Sun would absolutely spook at the sight of dadcode though. Just kind of run off. Black Star is probably growing a little grumbly bringing all these people to fall fest. But Jack hasn't been complaining because it brings in the money. Plus it's not like he doesn't mind kids. He actually works with them a bit better than Moon does.

He'll probably never know what the joke really was. Mostly because eclipse is running on new friend fumes and it's just kind of saying silly shit. Black Star looks down at himself in confusion. Almost as if he can't imagine himself orange. Looking at child eclipse and kind of motioning his head up. Almost as if he is mentally measuring. Sparing a glance at eclipse before looking back. Saying he doesn't have the brain power to figure out that right now.

There are plenty of attractions around. It kind of feels like those fairgrounds with the quickly set up rides. Except these ones are definitely more bolted and built into the structure. Tons of fake tents are littered around. Some of them closed due to being more popular in the fall. Plenty of them though have performances and gift shops inside of them. There are of course plenty of carnival games. It really feels like a theme park shaped like a fall themed circus. Jack will probably come around the bend eventually. Greeting them ecstatically in the way he always does. Blackstar is trying to get his attention. Hey buddy seems a little focused greeting the two newcomers and seemingly looking around. (He's noticing the lack of proper souls.)

How would any of your guys react to the stardust arcade crew. This is only considering the storyline so far, and all the secrets. They could visit it like a normal Pizza Plex for scenario. Depending on who you choose they could also maybe see the spirits.

(This will kind of stay non Cannon though until I have a scenario with Blue Moon. They open a lot of funny worlds.)

Vim thinks this place is neat. He doesn’t visit non-SaMS Pizzaplex’s very often, so it’s a fun adventure. And he gets to experience whole new forms of drama, too! He’ll pop in the Daycare first, that’s a frequent entry point.

Kidclipse, for fun, would just crawl out of the ballpit and be confused. He’s smart enough to recognize this isn’t his home, it usually isn’t when he ends up crawling out of a ballpit. But he’s never been to a non-SaMS Pizzaplex so he’s going to be very confused. Teen Flare’s with him, though. (For protection)

[interstellargatorskinboots1812]

TAPPED INTO YOUR MIND AND SOUL

SUMMARY

Arabella Shelby is tired of the antics of her twin brother Tommy. She hates how she is always left on the back-foot of what is going on. As a fierce and intelligent force to be reckoned with, she knows she is more than capable of dealing with the more unsavoury side of the Shelby Company Limited.

She's made a decision that if Tommy won't allow her to come out of the shadows, then she will make light of her own, elsewhere. But will a deal with the devil be the answer to her problems? Tommy has a proposition for Arabella and one that will see her tied to his most untrusting of business associates. Will Arabella take the plunge and start a new life in Camden, beside the most eccentric and sadistic bread makers and leader of the Jewish Gangs in London, Mr Alfie Solomons?

CHAPTER ONE: Satisfaction Seems like a Distant Memory

She can feel her patience ebbing, like the whiskey reserves behind the bar. Arabella  Shelby grinds her teeth and wills the antagonism feeding her veins, to dissipate. The room drowns in the heavy tones of men as they jeer and chat obnoxiously , each having to shout to be heard over the man behind them. Women screech and laugh uproariously trying desperately to gain some favorable attention from any of the rowdy males. Her malachite gaze looks down to her red tipped long nails, holding a now empty brandy glass . She hates the atmosphere and finds the behaviour encircling her to be stifling.  Flinching, she ducks away from the spittle flying from the faceless philanderer, trying and failing to impress her. He was a brave man to say the least, she thought. It was rare anyone dared but look at a Shelby sister. Mores the pity she muses, that each of her brothers are too overloaded with their own egos to notice and intervene with a swipe of their caps. The room stinks of tobacco, a thick and heavy film of smog seems to be connecting one body to another as it clings into the air around them. She should already be out of Birmingham, her bags have been packed since the early hours of this morning and the decision to cut out made long before that. Instead she stays in the newly refurbished Garrison, watching the vainglory antics of a family lacerated by their hunger for being high-handed.  

Her eyes train on her older brother Arthur, fresh out of jail,  as he presses a rolled up note onto the table top and inhales his second blue vial of powder with a determined fury. She surveys with intent as he scrunches his face and presses his fingers to his nose to adjust to the sensation of the toxins traveling into his system.

'Fuck sake, Arthur', she rolls her eyes as her troubled brother stands on the bar and addresses  the room under a confident pretension of shouted words. The pub listens eagerly and replies  along dutifully and in an orderly fashion to his toasts for the Small Heath Rifles, The Lane Boys and of course, to the Peaky Fucking Blinders. Pulling a wayward wave of blonde hair behind her ear, she scans the doleful faces of the crowd as they raise their glasses, each hanging onto Arthur's words like obedient children.

'The Peaky Fucking Blinders, eh?’ Arabella scoffs under her breath.

'Whose gunna stop us ?'the gravel tone of Arthur spews out. She watches . The time keeper of events from her spot in the corner booth, examining Arthur as he climbs down out of sight, the mask slips  as his brow becomes deep set and his expression dulled. She shifts her weight as the leather studs of the booth stab her fiercely in the back. Glancing across the bar to her younger brother, John she observes his dirty and paranoid glances to his wife as he knocks back yet another whiskey. As for her twin, well Tommy was nowhere to be seen. She hadn’t seen him since Epsom earlier that day, when he had told her that he needed to see her urgently for business reasons but then had seemingly disappeared into the ether. Well, she had need to see him urgently too, although he may not like her reasons.

To the outside world the Peaky Blinders were an untouchable force to be reckoned with. Raconteurs racing their way up the crime ladder and vying to be the top of the chain. Money was rolling in and reputation was building, Tommy was making a name for the Shelby Company Limited and a name for himself. However, behind the façade  the cracks were springing thick and fast. The family felt fractured and Arabella felt completely disconnected. Dealing with the legitimate side of the business, being a woman within the family, Tommy did not want her getting mixed up into the illegal and dangerous goings on. He would listen to her smart ideas before dismissing them and then re-imagining them with his own. She had begged for Tommy to take her to London to run the start of their empire down there, an ambition that Tommy had staunchly diffused, particularly after what had happened to their younger sister. 'London is no place for a woman like you, it’s heaving with trouble and violence and no sister of mine is going to get caught up in it on my behalf'.

'Pfft and here was me heeding your words of this business being a modern Enterprise that believes in equal rights for women. Those are your words Thomas, or do they only matter when it suits?'

They had argued for days over the matter, of course Thomas had won out and it was Arthur running the show down in London. Upon his arrest, however much it angered Tommy under it’s circumstances,  it made his gloating no less bearable when he reiterated that this was why she shouldn't go to the city, Arabella argued back viciously that had she been in charge down there, none of this would have happened because she had a lid on things and was not riddled with the lingering effects of war, mixed with a habit for white powder rotting her faculties.

She could face no more of being on the back foot of what was going on, of having her intelligence shunned and her opinions chewed up and hashed back out in the guise of another. The last few months had been eventful, in the precipice of war with Sabini's Italian gang and in an mistrustful partnership with another, fighting for the dominant control. What good was she to be by being the pretty face at the fucking bookmaker's reception, seemingly in the dark about everything going on beneath the surface.

Unlike her younger sister, Arabella longed to be more involved in the family business, to handle the threats, the plans and the schemes. She knew she was worth more, that she could handle more. She had repeatedly begged Tommy to allow her to be more involved but to no avail. If she couldn’t be more to the family business than somebody who handles it’s books, when it could be seen that she had so much more potential, then she didn’t want to be involved at all. She had made her decision that she would not stand by and be dismissed and so she would wait for Tommy to return to his office and she would tell him she wanted out. Family or no family, her ambitions were being stifled and she would not stand for it any longer.

'Excuse me', she says with a flash of a scowl, pushing at the shoulder of the offending would be suitor to allow her to get up. She manoeuvres the silk crepe of her yellow dress, it's horizontal pointed waistline spiking down like daggers. She couldn't wait to get home and take of the dress. It still smells of smoke from the burning bookie bonfires started by her brother's gang. She wanted to remove every last stitch of Epsom still clinging to her.

Just as she gets to her feet and moves forward, she is  hauled back. She glances down to find his fat fingers gripping at her upper arm, fingertips pushing into the flesh.

'Now come on sweetheart, I haven't finished talking to you yet'.

Momentarily, she's startled by the misogynistic manner of his speaking, The moment quickly passes though.

'Ooff!'

The air rushes from his lungs, his stomach moving to a more unnatural position , Arabella uncurls her fist from his diaphragm. His face is turning more scarlet by the second as he desperately tries to suck down more air to get his breath back. Leaning into his ear, she makes her tone curt.

'Call me sweetheart and touch me again  and  it'll be more than the air I'll take from your chest. Now, fuck off'.

Whipping her red felt hat from the viscid table, she heads for the exit without a sideways glance back. Tommy would see her tonight, alright.

                          ___________________________________

MASTERLIST HERE

TAGLIST: Let me know if you want to be added!

@lokigirlszendaya​​

[imtrashraccoon]

Hey Fren~

You have any good underfell papyrus story recs? Or maybe... some snippets of your own~

Hey you! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I sat on this ask for a bit as I wasn't sure how to answer. I've been a bit too busy to really sit down and look for Underfell Papyrus fics so I wouldn't really be able to recommend anything that hasn't already been recommended by others.

However, I have been in the mood to write for my favourite skellie as of late and since I'm planning on rewriting this anyways to fit a new setting idea I had, here is a snippet of something I wrote. For context, this is from my upcoming Underfell fic, Fractured Souls, and MC's first conversation with Scar.

You quietly stood up and moved to the entryway to the living room. You weren't even sure why you were doing so, but maybe you were sort of apprehensive or a little bit curious? You didn't know exactly and you weren't going to dissect your own feelings right now. You had a small kernel of bravery at the moment and you were going to act on it.

Papyrus was somehow even taller than Sans and although you couldn't tell exactly how much taller he was since he was sitting down, you estimated he could be at least a foot taller than his brother. He also looked completely different from Sans in the sense that while Sans was stocky and broad, Papyrus was sort of angular and lanky. You could still tell they were brothers since there was enough familial resemblance, but you almost had to squint to see it.

Papyrus had red eyelights as well but they were a slightly different shade than Sans', maybe scarlet was a good word to describe them? He also had sharp teeth like Sans, although his jaw was shaped differently and he didn't have a gold tooth. Instead, Papyrus had two jagged gashes that passed through his left eye socket which you estimated were between four and six inches long. Papyrus seemed to dress differently than Sans did, as in he looked more formal, and you got the impression that he was a bit of a stickler for appearances. He was currently wearing a red and black checkered shirt with the top button undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of black slacks.

Although his attention was on the television when you paused in the entryway to the living room, Papyrus noticed you almost immediately. His scarlet eyelights flicked to you and his eye sockets narrowed slightly as he took in your appearance. A few seconds passed before he finally spoke.

"So, You Are The Human Sans Brought Home..."

You frowned slightly at his cold tone but he wasn't being outright hostile so you were grateful for that at least. He seemed to be testing the waters and trying to gauge what you were like if you were to wager a guess.

"Yes, I am. You must be his brother, Papyrus?" You asked and although your voice was quiet, you were still feeling brave which helped keep your tone even.

Papyrus nodded curtly and he hit the power button on the tv remote. The buzz of the television faded instantaneously as Papyrus angled himself to look at you properly, although he remained seated.

"Come Here, I Want To Talk To You." His voice was still cold as he spoke and he motioned for you to sit next to him on the couch.

You obeyed and, although you were cautious, you moved to the couch and sat down, keeping as far away from Papyrus as you could without appearing rude. You could feel your heartrate increase and you folded your hands in your lap nervously.

Papyrus studied you for a moment before he spoke, "Sans Told Me A Little About You But I Got The Impression That You Didn't Tell Him Much To Begin With. So, I Want To Know Your Story. Tell Me About Yourself..."

"It's...difficult to talk about...but I will try," you said as you fiddled with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

Papyrus leaned back against the couch cushions again, looking the very picture of relaxed but attentive, and motioned for you to continue. You couldn't meet his gaze and the intensity of his scarlet eyelights on you wasn't helping to soothe your nerves.

"I am an experiment to put it frankly. I wasn't privy to much of the details surrounding all of it but I have an idea of what they were trying to accomplish. I don't know what the public's opinion on monsters is right now, but for the entire time I was in the facility, I didn't encounter anyone who seemed to have a positive opinion of them. From my understanding, monsters have magic and are generally physically stronger than humans, which was a pretty contentious subject with the humans that interacted with me."

You paused to take a few deep breaths and stared down at your hands. "I am one of several humans that they were trying to turn into...weapons... I'm not sure if my powers are actually magic, or if it's something else entirely, but they were ultimately forced onto me. I never had a say in the matter and well, I'm not sure if my life would've been better or worse without them..."

Papyrus was silent as you trailed off but when he did speak, it was a bit more subdued although still cold in tone. "What Can You Do? As In, Your Magic Or Powers As You Referred To Them As."

You chanced a glance at him for a brief moment before returning your gaze to your lap again. "I'm pretty weak if I'm being honest...that's why they were getting rid of me. I couldn't make anything that could kill, no matter how much they wanted me to..."

Annnnd gonna cut it off there... Wouldn't want to spoil the entire premise now, would I? (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

[edwardelricsrightarm]

"A lesson without pain is meaningless. For you cannot gain anything without sacrificing something else in return, but once you have overcome it and made it your own...you will gain an irreplaceable fullmetal heart." - Edward Elric

In honor of disability month and the FMA 20 year anniversary I wanted to address some Thoughts™️ about the series.

It's not often you see a disabled protagonist in media where their disability is integral to the story without taking up their entire character, even more so with anime. Yet, Fullmetal Alchemist has not just one disabled Protagonist, but two. The Elric Brothers are an exemplary representation of disability in media that I find myself reflecting on often as a disabled person myself. If you haven't completed the manga or Brotherhood, skip this as it will be brimming with spoilers.

(Mangahood will be my point of reference because while 03 is good on its own merits it's not as fresh within my immediate memory, and I am far less familiar with it. Keep this in mind, I've watched FMAB 10 and a half times whereas I've finished 03 only once years ago.)

The story highlights their disabilities immediately, Edward being a double amputee and Alphonse being without his ENTIRE body, only having the senses of proprioception, sight, and hearing left. Yet, despite this being key to the story and an integral part of their characterization, it is only one facet of their motivations and doesn't take center in the narrative, which is refreshing. It's not inherently negative to make a narrative centered on the characters' disabilities, but often this model of a story goes very wrong very fast and starts to feel hollow (no pun intended). FMA avoids this by making their disabilities a clear part of the plot and their motivations without allowing it to consume the entire story, so the Elric Brothers don't suffer the "my disability is all of my character" problem that many disabled characters are relegated to in a vast portion of media, all while being strong and competent.

Recap:

The brothers wished to revive their mother, but their good intentions cannot change the atrocity of their mistake, Truth makes this abundantly clear from the start. Edward loses his leg first, a punishment for "stepping" into God's shoes and transgressing the place of humans in their world. Alphonse loses his entire body, unable to feel any warmth or simple comforts like food and rest, when all he wanted was to feel the warmth and comfort of his mother's embrace again. At first, Alphonse's entire being is consumed by the gate, but Edward acts immediately, refusing to lose his little brother and refusing to allow his arrogance in this plan to cause his brother's death for only following his lead. Edward gives his right arm to have the gate give back Alphonse's soul, and stated clearly in his panic that he'd give his entire self to save Alphonse if that's what it would take, but Truth took his dominant arm only, showing something akin to mercy, although the character of Truth is capriciously strict and hard to describe as "merciful".

Through giving up his right arm, Edward regains his Right Hand Man, his little brother and best friend. His only remaining family, who he feels responsible for protecting in the absence of their parents. He felt immediately that he'd made a grave mistake, instantly full of regret as he realized the gate had taken his brother. In that moment he was willing to give anything to take it back and undo the suffering his arrogance caused his brother, yet Alphonse was still to suffer more to come. Ed tied Alphonse's disembodied soul to one of Hohenheim's collected suits of armor, managing to at least keep his brother alive in some way. One could say that Alphonse's punishment functioned as a secondary punishment for Edward, showing him how easily his hubris could have cost him what he has left in his obsession with regaining what they'd lost, their mother. A very clear symbolic reminder of the weight of his actions and how he'd misled his brother in his own naive ignorance. Even in giving another limb away to drag his brother's soul back out of the gate, he couldn't offer enough to bring him back intact. Thus is the law of equivalent exchange.

Now that we've reviewed some of that basic symbolism and the motifs the story draws upon with limbs and body parts in relation to characters, let's move on to each individual brother and break it down, shall we?

Edward Elric is a very realistic protagonist, this is one thing a majority of us familiar with this series can agree upon. He feels like a believable teen boy, with layers of complexity to his character while also showing arrogance and immaturity that is unsurprising at his age. He expresses unwillingness to kill and avoidance of unjust violence from the beginning, and has a strong moral code after the ordeal of committing the taboo.

In some characters his cocky personality would typically become grating, yet the story explains in itself why he is this way, then builds upon this to develop him into an incredibly mature character who is willing to admit when he's absolutely wrong and adapts to new information and context for the crisis unfolding around him as it comes, even if he remains crass. This arrogance is shown from the start to be a manifestation of insecurity, self loathing, and repressed guilt. Edward is a logic driven person, he has a very unique thought process, which is where my interpretation of him as autistic comes in. Edward's awkward social demeanor, somewhat abrasive and cold approach to some, and his trouble coping with nonsensical societal structures all stand out in this way. Furthermore he clearly shows hyperfixation, hyperactivity, special interest, and infodumping behaviors that are all too familiar. He's picky with food (*cough* the milk thing), has very little filter and speaks his mind bluntly even if this can warrant conflicting responses, yet at the same time struggles with vulnerable emotions, and he is frustrated when his own routine or itinerary are interrupted by forces beyond his control. All of these things Scream autism with comorbid ADHD. Many traits are shared between the brothers, and I'm quite certain they're both on the autism spectrum based on behavioral patterns. Neurodivergence aside, Edward's physical disabilities are undeniable.

Despite his bratty persona, Edward is fundamentally kind and uncharacteristically gentle and soft around the edges for a shonen protagonist in many ways. He cries openly on many occasions even if he struggles talking about his trauma and burdens in words at times, he feels pain, grief, and compassion so intensely it throws him into action on a regular basis in the narrative. In this way he's also a fantastic example of non-toxic masculinity (though in other ways he has displayed more toxic traits, he's just a kid). He acts on his heart, even if he's led by his mind and logic in most things. His humanity, value for life, and care for others will always win over his logic, and he shows a sense of personal responsibility for doing the right thing even if it harms him in the process. Ed is clearly shown having ghost pains in his lost limbs which is honestly an interesting detail to include, I don't think I've ever seen that aspect of amputation shown in media aside from FMA. It's also shown that when Ed's automail arm breaks this is a HUGE problem for him, but he's also shown to be very good at working around this in difficult circumstances. He doesn't become completely helpless, even if majorly weakened.

Alphonse is an extremely lovable and compassionate boy, brimming with altruism and care for others. Even in his noncorporeal state he pursues a better future and he's not helpless by any stretch. Edward clearly states Alphonse is the superior fighter for example, and it's not just because of his armor body being so large. He's *talented*, that's a fact. Al is every bit as clever and capable as Ed, moreso in some ways, and I love that about his character *because* he's so clearly disabled. He has no sense of pain, he is completely incapable of sleeping, he can't eat, can't relax or find comfort, he can only exist and think. This causes him to overthink in all his time alone, this is debilitating. He clearly is absolutely sick of the loneliness this causes, and he often feels helpless though he's not. He has doubts and fears that consume him in relation to his armor body, he questions his own personhood, even. Yet, Edward is stubborn and staunch in affirming that no matter what he's dealing with, he is fundamentally still a human being that is loved and irreplaceable. Alphonse is powerful and his body gives him some advantages, but it also sets him back, and the brothers know this even when others claim Alphonse's state is somehow a good thing. I have hEDS, a disability that comes with advantages as well as the major downsides, so I can understand and relate to Alphonse here. I too am told my disability is a boon because of flexibility and because I'm less likely to fracture bones, but I'm twice as likely to injure my ligaments and joints, which people ignore.

The brothers are both disabled, both flawed, both show weaknesses, but they are competent, determined, and strong in their own right. They are rounded characters that exist for more than to be pitied or condescended to by able bodied characters around them. They put their entire being in everything that they do no matter what that is, and they don't know the meaning of giving up. These traits that they're made of truly make them a shining example of disability in protagonists for others to look to for reference when writing their own disabled characters.

Even though by the end Edward has regained one limb and Al has regained his body, this also doesn't just deus ex machina reverse their disability or make it go away. It's clear that Alphonse's body is weak and has to be rehabilitated upon recovery, and Edward is still missing his leg and bears the scars and pieces of the port from his automail arm. They weren't suddenly made able bodied upon recovering these things, they reclaimed what was lost through struggle and grit, but the narrative didn't give the impression that their disability in itself was something to be fixed, which is important. They wanted to recover their bodies, but this doesn't erase the effects of their disability.

It was about Edward atoning for leading Alphonse into their mistake and saving his brother from suffering further, it was about them proving they can keep moving forward no matter what, not about getting rid of their disability in itself or putting themselves down because of the disabilities. This, to me, as a mentally and physically disabled viewer, is so important. They achieve their goal, but this doesn't in any way erase or undo the effects of their initial losses, they find ways to adapt and move on but they're still affected and still disabled. They always will be. That can be so important to see in comfort characters, and as a disabled individual who's had both brothers as comfort characters since I was a child, their impact on my own journey is surprisingly tangible for fiction.

[thedragonnerd]

my soul may be damned, but my heart is still yours

(Concept Art AU 1/2)

Raya meets Namaari when she is seven years old, at her first Council of the Five meeting. Her Ma has recently passed, and Ba is reluctant to let her out of his sight, so he decides last-minute that she will accompany him to Fang on their diplomatic mission.

‘The lands of Kumandra may have been divided for 500 years,’ he tells her as they set out for their neighbour’s land, a large group of Royal soldiers surrounding them. ‘But the Council of the Five has ensured for centuries that trade and diplomatic discussions are still carried out, so that our lands do not fall into war and our people are protected. You are Heart’s Princess, and one day, these meetings will be yours to attend.’

To her disgust, Raya is provided a bodyguard for protection; this may be a mission of peace, but clearly Ba does not trust those no-good binturis in Fang even so. She resigns herself to an incredibly boring three days, where her father will talk with other adults for endless hours, and she is sat alone in a corner…But then, when they arrive in Fang and are greeted by the host delegation, she spies another small girl around her own age, peering out from around Chief Virana’s legs.

‘I’m Raya,’ she says, as soon as the adults are distracted. The girl gives her a small wave.

‘Namaari, Princess of Fang,’ she introduces herself. Around her neck lies a pendant in the shape of a dragon – Sisu, to be precise. Raya decides in that instant that her and Namaari will be best friends.

Indeed, they spend the first hours of the day in deep discussion. Namaari has been attending these Council meetings since she was five years old, and she’s a useful source of information, such as when the best food is brought out, or when the adults are too busy to notice small children sneaking away. At dinner later that evening, Raya slips handfuls of sweet desserts into her pockets, and grabs Namaari’s hand, ducking through the legs of everyone around them in order to lose her bodyguard. They sit in a dark corner and eat their stolen treats, laughing over silly jokes and their combined love of Sisu and all things dragons.

Being the Princess of the land, Namaari also knows amazing places to visit, and even better places to hide from the adults. Instead of three dull days, Raya spends them all with her new friend, talking, playing with serlot kittens, or getting into all sorts of mischief.

She can’t help but feel upset when it is time to return home.

‘See you next year in Heart?’ Namaari asks shyly, when Raya’s delegation is about to leave. Raya beams at her, scooping her into a hug before running after Ba.

--

They don’t speak in the interim year. Although Raya feels like Fang is now the land of new friends rather than binturis, the political situation is far more complicated than two young girls wanting to talk.

Raya thinks about Namaari often though, and when the first Council parties begin to arrive at Heart’s palace, she half leans out the window to see if she can catch sight of the other girl. Her frustration mounts as Spine and Talon are greeted by Ba, and then she sees in the distance the shining white of Fang’s uniforms, and almost falls out the window in her haste to go down to meet them.

She’s worried that Namaari might not remember her, or that their brief friendship didn’t mean the same thing. But as soon as she enters the courtyard, Namaari is already waving her over to say hello.

Later on, they are sat in Raya’s bedroom, talking non-stop until their voices start to crack, when Namaari pulls a small package out of a pocket, and thrusts it towards Raya.

‘A gift for the Heart Princess,’ she says, a light dusting of red across her cheeks. Raya takes it reverentially, and opens it to find a golden dragon pendant, with a shining blue stone in its center.

‘I love it,’ she clutches it in her hand for a moment, and then eagerly hangs it around her neck.

‘It’s so we can be matching forever,’ Namaari reminds her, holding up her own pendant.

--

Raya wears the pendant always. After the last Council meeting, her Ba and Chief Virana had agreed to allow letters to be passed back and forth between their daughters, and so Raya writes diligently to Namaari at least once a week, telling her of her lessons and training, of tasty food she’s enjoyed, of silly things Ba has said or done. It’s difficult to make friends as Princess, and the other children are wary of her when she wants to join their games, too concerned about causing offence by mistake. It seems to be similar for Namaari, from what Raya can glean from her own letters, and so they share their thoughts with each other instead, pouring out their young hearts in their correspondence.

Their meetings in Spine, Talon and Tail are similar as before. Raya is annoyed to see that Namaari is growing at a much faster pace, but besides that, it is wonderful to be able to hug her friend and hear her voice. And in the months between the Council meetings, they continue their letter writing, sharing their thoughts, their fears, and their hopes for the future.

‘I hope Kumandra can be reunited again,’ Raya writes when she is eleven, and frustrated with the amount of time left before she can see Namaari again.

‘When we are both leaders of our land, we will be the first to take that step, dep la,’ Namaari promises in her reply.

--

When Raya is twelve years old, the Council meeting should be hosted in Fang once more. But a week before the gathering, Raya finds Ba rushing around, throwing out orders to everyone in his vicinity.

‘Is there a problem, Ba?’ she asks, surprised at how stressed he seems.

‘Fang can no longer host the Council of the Five this year, so we are instead,’ he replies, before rushing away to organize more details.

‘Food is scarce, this season,’ Namaari had written in her last letter, and Raya re-reads it with more understanding this time.

She resolves to ask her friend more details when the Fang delegation arrives, but when she first catches sight of Namaari, there are no smiles sent her way. Namaari instead stands staring straight ahead, adorned in more formal clothing than Raya is used to seeing. As soon as the diplomatic greetings are held, the parties start to walk back to the palace together, and Raya deliberately falls back so she can walk with Namaari.

‘Alright?’ she asks her friend. She sees Virana grip her daughter’s shoulder tightly, and then Namaari is sending a fake smile in her direction.

‘All is well,’ she tells Raya, but her eyes say differently. Raya wants to question her there and then, but first comes the large feast where everyone must attend. At her age, she knows Ba will notice if she misses it, but she is almost tempted to forgo manners and drag Namaari away.

‘I must speak to you,’ Namaari whispers at her when they are finally sat with their food. ‘But in private.’

The meal feels the longest Raya has ever had to sit through, so when the food ends and people start to split off into groups for discussions, she gestures to Namaari and they run out the side door.

‘Let me take you somewhere private,’ Raya says, hooking her arm with Namaari’s and pulling her up the pathway. ‘I’ve been waiting to show you this place for ages anyway.’

It is forbidden to take outsiders to see the Dragon Gem, and as its newly-appointed Guardian, Raya knows she should act in a more sensible way. But this is Namaari, her dragon-nerd-in-arms, and she’s been wanting to share this special place with her for several years now.

When they cross the threshold and enter into the glowing chamber, Raya can see her friend’s eyes growing wide at the Dragon Gem shining brightly before her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Namaari breathes, and then her expression turns serious. ‘Raya, this is what I needed to talk to you about. I need to warn you…I think Ma has something planned in regards to the Gem – I heard her speaking to-’

She stops speaking abruptly. The hairs on the back of Raya’s neck prickle, and she knows before she turns what she will see. The sounds of weapons being drawn confirms her fears.

‘Leave her alone!’ Namaari calls out to the Fang warriors, trying to step in front of Raya. But Raya is a Guardian of the Dragon Gem, and she steps into fighting stance, determined to protect both the Gem and her home.

She is only a child, however, and no match for a group of seasoned Fang warriors. She takes one strong hit, and falls to the ground winded, struggling to stand again. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Namaari pull out a flare and shoot it into the sky, and in what feels like the next instant, Ba is beside her, followed by a large crowd of Fang, Spine, Talon and Tail delegates.

Yelling ensues, and then there is nothing but chaos. The only thing Raya can focus on is the fight for her life.

‘The Gem!’ she hears someone cry suddenly, and time seems to slow down as she watches the Dragon Gem topple to the ground. The crash echoes through the chamber, and everyone pauses in their fighting.

‘It’s alright, it’s alright,’ Ba is saying, on his knees and with his hands hovering over the Gem. For a split second, Raya believes him; then there is a *crack* and a small fracture starts to run up the side of the Gem. The room’s glow turns from a serene blue to a sickly shade of green, and people start to scream and run away as the ground begins to tremor.

The Gem is now alit with green flames, which grow larger and wilder as something tears open the ground beneath their feet, and Raya sees a large mechanical arm reaching out of the darkness, attached to a monstrous body. The movement dislodges the Gem, and it rolls towards her, a flaming ball of now corrupted magic. Raya tries to scramble away, but the ground is still trembling and she falls backwards, watching in horror as it comes closer.

‘Raya!’ Ba cries in the distance, and she closes her eyes.

Then there is a warm weight on top of her, and a terrible, terrible sound fills her ears. Raya drags herself forward with her hands, her fingers getting scratched and bleeding in the dirt, and she pulls her legs out from under whatever is pinning her down. Twisting around, she finds Namaari lying on the ground next to her, screaming in pain. Namaari’s left hand is clutching the Dragon Gem, and Raya watches as the green flames dance across her fingers, a green glow emanating from her veins.

‘Raya, we have to go!’ Ba says, just as she is reaching out to help Namaari. He scoops her up by her waist, and starts to run in the opposite direction.

‘’Maari!’ Raya screams, trying to fight him off and get back to her friend. Ba’s grip is too tight however, and she watches helplessly as she’s carried away.

The last thing she sees before being dragged from the chamber is Namaari, writhing on the ground in pain as several mechanical Druuns crawl closer to her prone form.

--

Her Ba does not make it that night either. Instead, she watches as he is touched by one of the cursed Druun, a green light flaring in his eyes before he is turned to stone, frozen in his last moment of pain and terror.

--

It takes Raya two years before she can bring herself to return home. The Druun have moved on, searching for more populated areas, but she can’t shake the trauma witnessed that night. She wouldn’t go back at all, but her supplies are running low, and of all the places she knows that should be filled still with well-preserved food, it will be the kitchens at the palace.

She aims for a quick in-and-out mission, but once she has collected the food and packed her bags back onto Tuk Tuk’s saddle, she can’t help but hesitate and glance over her shoulder.

‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she tells Tuk Tuk, patting his nose when he grunts at her in concern.

Her first visit is to her father, still suspended in time leaning over the bridge’s wall, his face contorted into one final call of her name, and his arms reaching out. She still remembers seeing his face as she fell into the water, and she hopes she was the last thing on his mind also in those final moments, rather than the fear of the Druun.

After she sits with him for a while, she takes a deep breath, and turns to go to the very location where it all started. Her feet drag as she nears the entrance of the chamber, but she steels her nerves, and ventures inside.

The image before her is even worse than she recalls. Debris is littered across the floor, tossed aside when the Druun emerged back into the world, whilst every corner of the room is full of stone people – all those who were too slow to escape, or too stubborn to back down from a fight.

And there, in the middle of the room, on her knees with one arm reaching out, she finds Virana. The fear etched onto the Fang Chief’s face sends a shiver down Raya’s spine, but when she turns to follow Virana’s eyeline, she sees nothing. Namaari isn’t there.

‘I didn’t expect to find you here, dep la,’ comes a voice from behind her.

Raya whirls around, her hand flying to her father’s sword. There is a subtle movement from within the shadows, and then a figure steps out into the open.

‘Namaari?’ Raya whispers, shocked at the sight in front of her. ‘I thought…When did you…How did you..?’

She can’t even finish a question, and Namaari chuckles bitterly at her surprise.

‘How did I avoid turning to stone?’ she asks, her gaze drifting from Raya and towards her mother instead. ‘It would have been better if I had done so.’

And then Raya sees it – her left arm, no longer human but metal and shining with the same sickly green of the Druun’s magic.

‘What happened to you, ‘Maari?’ Raya asks, taking a step forward and holding out her hands. She pauses when Namaari backs away, shaking her head.

‘Don’t come any closer, Raya,’ she warns. ‘I’m not safe to be around. I’ve…I’ve been cursed.’

‘The Druun cursed you?’ Raya demands, confusion in her voice. ‘Why would they do that? HOW did they do that?’

‘Not the Druun – the Dragons,’ Namaari thrusts up her left arm, and shakes it twice towards Raya. ‘This is what I get for touching the Dragon Gem. I guess being a traitor from Fang would do that…even the Dragons didn’t like us.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Raya says softly, and she inches forward slowly. Namaari’s eyes are unfocused as she stares into the distance, and so she doesn’t notice Raya until their fingers brush. She flinches away.

‘You saved me,’ Raya continues, ignoring her reaction. ‘That shouldn’t mean you’re cursed for it…the Dragons wouldn’t have judged you so.’

‘Well, there’s no longer any dragon magic to place judgement anyway,’ Namaari informs her, and their eyes meet for the first time in years. ‘It’s inside me, Raya…I can feel the power of the Gem burning. And they’re in here too.’

‘The dragons?’

‘The Druun…I can hear them calling. They’re looking for me.’

At this, Namaari suddenly grabs Raya’s shoulder with her human hand, opening her mouth to say another warning, and Raya can see the moment she is distracted by something.

‘You kept it?’ she asks instead, and her hand goes to cover the pendant around Raya’s neck.

‘We said forever,’ Raya jokes feebly, fingers rising to hold Namaari’s wrist in support. ‘Namaari, let me help you, please. You saved me once, let me save you now.’

They pause for a moment, staring at each other, and then an unearthly shriek pierces the air.

‘They’re here,’ Namaari breathes instead. ‘Run.’

Namaari disappears into the shadows in a split second, almost as if she were a ghost. And for the second time in her life, Raya finds herself fleeing from Heart’s palace without Namaari beside her.

--

PART TWO tomorrow...

OK, so this was meant to merely be a Concept Art headcanon list as suggested by an anon, but it kinda ran away with me, and I found myself writing endless 'childhood friends' points to build up to the moment Namaari even got cursed, let alone to the point that everyone wants to actually read where they have a showdown later on. Woopsie. It then went from ficlet to...sorta fic, so I will have to post the rest tomorrow since it is late in my timezone. I know lots of other people have been doing amazing fics, headcanons and art for this concept, so this is just my lil contribution.

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

When it all falls down

Hi guys! The next chapter is here! I just wanted to say I don’t really have a update schedule so it will most likely be updated every few days. I’ve pre-written most of this fic (or at least planned it) so as long as I don’t lose motivation it will be completed!

Ao3

Story Masterlist

——————————

CHAPTER TWO: The call from the catacombs

Warnings: threats, mentions of kidnapping & death

“I don’t need guards surrounding me constantly, father. I may be of royal bloodline, but I am no weakling.”

He was the crown prince and a trained assassin, yet he was babied similar to when he first arrived at the manor. His family smothered him.

After the coup he was taken into his father’s protection, and although he was born of his mother’s sexual misdeeds, his father treated him the same as his brothers. The first of his father’s charges that he met was Timothy Drake. Drake took part in Wayne Trading and became a successful merchant (but the majority of Gotham’s coffee supply mysteriously disappeared overnight). Then Damian met the Wayne clan’s eldest ward Sir Grayson, he was a famous knight in not only Gotham but Blüdhaven too.

He bonded with them along with his new sisters; Lady Barbara from the Gordon House, Stephanie Brown, Helena Wayne (his toddler sister by blood, conceived from his father’s Union with Countess Kyle) and Cassandra Cain. He had met Cain prior due to her mother being Lady Shiva, a close associate to his mother and grandfather. The reunion between Bruce’s third male charge and the young prince was awkward to say the least. During Jason’s MIA period of his life, he was ‘taken-in’ (aka kidnapped) by the royals and took on a guardian role for Damian (who was only a toddler at the time). The two silently conversed and as the tension faded it lead to constant rough housing and insults being thrown.

He lived and learned from his family until he was nineteen. At nineteen he had an argument with his father about his family’s smothering nature. Lord Wayne agreed they were being a bit much and lessened the security presence that followed his only blood son. After which he was promptly kidnapped by his mother and forced into an arranged marriage, to which the Wayne clan wasn’t even invited to witness.

And now here he was, months later, married and without the ability to contact his found family. Here he was drinking fucking tea with his ‘chosen’ bride. Not much had changed between the him and the bluenette, they were just two strangers joined by a forced union. There were no loving touches, longing glances, consummation of marriage or any connection other than a bond between respected acquaintances.

They communed under the watchful eye of the palace servants. “Spies.” Damian hissed, seething under his breath. “They are nothing more than rats feasting on gossip.”

Marinette sat across from him, posture straight as a board. The couple were separated by the cotton tablecloth that was decorated with a vase of lilies and porcelain plates. A small feast fit for at least twelve sat before the two of them, all were delicacies from across the country and beyond the borders. Her pinky pointed outwards as she sipped the piping hot moli longzhu, a playful smirk danced across her features.

“Your mother has made sure that they have nothing else to eat other than hearsay.”

Although he had been tempered by his father’s teachings, a fire flared within him. If anyone heard her it surely would be reported back to his family; the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty. No this wasn’t him protecting her, he was protecting himself, if someone heard her and it spread another ‘incident’ could occur. No matter the outcome, it wouldn’t end well.

Marinette tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at him, delivering a silent plea for him to challenge. He huffed looking away, her words were treasonous but true.

“You shouldn’t talk like that if you’d like to keep your tongue.”

“Aw, I’m glad to see you are looking out for me.” She quipped back, hand against her chest, mocking him. Her smile was wide and her eyes crinkled as she laughed. ‘Either she was insane or stupidly brave’ he thought as he watched her, ‘what had mother gotten him in to?’

“I’m looking out for myself.” He stood up and brushed off dirt from his garb. “If you make a fool out of yourself, it reflects badly on the Kingdom and I. You said yourself, you wouldn’t burden me through the bonds of matrimony, so don’t make this harder then it already is.”

She sat there in shock silence. Her jest was nothing more then that, she never meant it to cause him harm. She didn’t mean to burden him. She eyed him as he walked down the path. She sat in the pagoda, alone. ‘He was right’ she thought, ‘I need to be careful with my words. Not only for my safety but for my people also. I don’t want my actions to cause them harm.’

Later, when she finally saw fit to reenter the castle, she wandered the desolate hallways. League Castle held few materialistic decorations that didn’t serve a functional purpose. So paintings were no where insight. The only form of artwork she knew of was a sculpture of the late King, his majesty Ra al Ghul.

She looked down at the sculpture from a second story window. It lived in the confines of the royal gardens, atop a grand fountain display. She remembered hearing of the coup when she was just a child. ‘The King was killed and the prince was exiled’ but Lady Talia still ruled and the prince is back from his supposed banishment. It didn’t make sense. And for that matter why was a ten year old exiled in the first place?

Her arm was yanked, spinning her around to face the she-demon herself. The Mistress’ nails threatened to break her skin, they were sharpened and resembled animal claws. The woman’s dark eyes made Marinette uncomfortable, ‘she seems to be on the verge of being unhinged.’

“Come.” It wasn’t like Marinette had a choice, Talia dragged her down the hallways. She stumbled every so often as she tried to keep up with the woman’s strides.

The two came upon a dead end. The bluenette looked forward confused, and before she could even question it, the bricks separated revealing a dingy staircase that descended into darkness. Turning towards her captor, she saw her grab a nearby torch that lit the hall, a brick slowly slid back into place. They followed the spiraling decline until they reach the bottom, the air down here was moist and musty.

The fire only lit a few feet in front of them. They had gone from walls made of polished marble brick to decaying wood and cracked stone. The flooring creaked underneath their steps, the torn carpet was worn by those only travelling one path. She held her breath trying to avoid breathing in the damp air, mould growing at the corners of the walls. Realising she hadn’t said anything until now, the shock of Damian’s words and her abduction by his mother had kept her silent. “Lady Talia? Wher—“

“Hush child.” The venom dripping from her tone was the opposite of one used to shush a toddler, Talia’s hand covered Marinette’s mouth, silencing any objections; the heat of the nearing flame caused her to flinch. “You must learn your place.”

‘Did she know!? Did she hear me?’ Her silent scream reverberated through her mind. The seed of dread in the pit of her stomach grew vines that restricted her limbs causing her to stumble. Her heart clenched, it now felt made of lead and weight heavily within her chest. It’s beating was similar to a drum. But still the dragging continued.

They happened upon a room. Said room looked to be an older, more dilapidated version of the castle’s throne room. There were torn tapestries and fractured tables, it was like the souls of the ancient couldn’t escape this place fast enough. It’s whole atmosphere was eerie. “This castle was built from the ashes of the former empire.”

Marinette suppressed a gasp, she was right. Everything and everyone had told her she was wrong, she saw the shaking of their heads and heard them debunking her theories. The king was alive and the prince was never exiled.

The king was alive.

Taglist:

@thesunniestdays @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo

[your-turn-to-role]

Don't know if this has been said before, but what if Molly's soul is still hidden away in the body, although still around about the level when he died, so it's when Lucien gets taken to 0 hit points or something he's weak enough for Molly to finish him off from the inside

(I don't say it as a "this is what I think's going to happen" sort of thing, it'd just be cool & I'm thinking out loud)

so, i’m gonna ramble a lot about this before i get to your question, because this actually gives me a really good opportunity to talk about something i’ve been wanting to for a while and haven’t made the post yet

i’ve, honestly been really confused by everyone going “oh what if molly’s soul is still in there”, as if molly and lucien are two separate souls fighting over a body, and one’s possessed the other or whatever (especially when beacon theories get involved)

but like... that’s not what happened. to explain, lucien was the original soul. weird cult shit aside, he was an otherwise normal tiefling from shadycreek, who hired vess derogna to help him cast some kind of ritual involving that book

she went along with it, but didn’t actually want lucien’s plans to succeed. she’d read the book extensively herself, she also had nine eyes across her body, but she wanted no part of whatever the somnovem is doing. so when she cast the ritual on lucien, she modified it, and instead of its intended purpose, it shattered lucien’s soul into pieces, intending to make it impossible for him to be resurrected. the tombtakers found his body, seemingly dead, buried him in the woods outside their hideout, and scattered across the continent per lucien’s emergency instructions, plan lost

until the one piece of his soul left in his body slowly managed to wake up. a full soul isn’t actually required to keep a body alive, especially if there’s other weird magic involved, and this piece is very determined. it’s missing the rest of itself, and trying to come to terms with that - doesn’t remember anything, takes months to be able to speak, other than one word, haunted by the emptiness it’s now feeling, and the only other vague memory in their head is of the dark dark magic that brought them here. eventually, like any living creature, they grow, and develop, and move on from that. they were given a new start, a new name, and a family that loved them. molly learned how to be a person, not knowing anything different, and gave himself a whole new identity, had friends, had family, that lucien didn’t. but nothing new was added to the mix other than the love he got from the circus, everything else he built himself

(i’ve had a couple people say to me “well lucien isn’t a reliable source, he could be lying or mistaken about what happened”, and just from my personal insight, i don’t think he’s lying, but even if he was wrong about molly being a piece of his soul and not a whole new soul entirely - molly doesn’t match the symptoms of being a soul given to a new body. but you know what he does match near perfectly? egtw’s description of a hollow one, a being resurrected without a soul)

(he had at least part of one, we know that, we can see it, in lucien, they’re too similar, and molly doesn’t register as undead like hollow ones do. but i’m guessing if a fractured piece of a soul found itself back in its body without the rest of it? it would sound something like this)

“Yet some beings find that, days after they died, they awaken, clutching to life, with only a terrible emptiness inside to remind them of their death.”

“The transition from life to becoming a Hollow One affects different people to different degrees. Some let their anger and regret consume them. Others use their second chance to become a brighter force in the world. However, all Hollow Ones are marked by their new existence: feelings of unease, dread or sadness cling to them like tattered rags of their past life.”

so then he dies. and the mighty nein tell cree. and she spends months looking for a way to bring lucien back. i don’t know exactly how she does it, but she does, collects all (or at least more of, he may be missing some things still) those fragments of his very shattered soul and puts them back together. lucien doesn’t remember everything that molly did, the person he grew to be, and who’s to say really which part of a soul is responsible for memories? if you were to shatter his soul again in the same way, would the part that was molly remember, or would it have to go through the same thing all over again?

but it also leads us to an interesting question of, how does a soul get made. a baby still waiting to be born doesn’t have a soul yet, we know that because of how the beacon works

is each new child not connected to the luxon given a soul by the gods? or do they grow their own, as they learn to be their own person

did molly essentially turn a soul fragment into a whole soul, just by living? and if he did... what part is in lucien now

i’m honestly inclined to believe that lucien’s soul is back together, including the molly part, because of all the ways they’re similar, i think those all came from that fragment. but there’s three options here, 1) the soul fragment that was molly is back as just another puzzle piece, he’s essentially dead, and the purpose of his story is that you don’t have to keep living to keep having an impact on the world, molly has changed things permanently despite how short he lived 2) he did grow a second soul, and that fragment they share is shared, back in lucien’s body, but either molly in the afterlife is missing a piece, or there’s more than 100% of a soul in that body, weirdly stuck together and probably not that noticeable as wrong because there’s already a thousand other voices in there 3) he did grow a second soul, and it’s gone. he left for the afterlife and that piece was unrecoverable, and now lucien’s walking around with 80% of a soul

the first is my belief, honestly, and the only way to get molly back is to shatter lucien in the same way, and hope he still has those repressed memories. the third is what would make molly resurrectable, if you were to kill lucien.

the second, however, is the only thing that really makes sense with molly being “still in there”, and if that 80% of a new soul can manage to wake up from whatever’s going on in lucien’s head, it’s possible!

it would also be pretty symbolically cool bc, while matt changed the blood hunter class a lot recently so it’s no longer a feature (give me back the cool ghostslayer, pls), back when molly was alive, the subtype he was? at high levels he’d get the ability to keep fighting in ghost form after his body fell unconscious, as long as he didn’t die. and i mean fuck if that’s not exactly what he’d be doing here

[solomonish]

you dumb bitch, i loved you! (belphegor & lucifer)

the worst part is i loved you, and sometimes i feel like i still do

when belphegor fell, it felt like everything he loved had been forced inside out and created just to hurt him.

WARNING: (christian) religious imagery and guilt, swearing, brief choking, and my own interpretation of how belphie was forced in the attic.

based off of this song // ao3 link: here!

No matter how hard he tried to forget, Belphegor remembered how passionately he loved the human realm and how his bliss in his old home had been nearly just as strong.

His memories are filled with adventures in the human realm, walking down the streets with Beel and Lilith at his side. Humans liked to marvel at their gradual progress over the centuries, but to an extension of Father himself as everlasting as His love, they seemed to grow and learn at a fascinatingly fast pace. He could walk down dirt paths made only by the constant wear and tear of feet, only to be pulled away by his ear and come back after his punishment to find cobblestone and two-story apartments lining the spot where he last stood. Humans were such darling creatures, bold and brave in their battles yet never losing that adorable haze of ignorance to the greater realms. There was something about them that made him want to work harder to guide them gently on their way - an urge to protect the people who interested him so much, in an effort to maybe let them know just how dearly he loved them all.

When he wasn't wandering the human realm with a wide-eyed wonder, he spent his time diligently working, hoping that he might catch the attention of a certain angel - or maybe get him to admit that his work made him proud. Angels were not perfect, being mere reflections of His grace - if the warped spot in Belphegor's mirror was not his interest in humans, it was the favoritism he harbored for a certain group of angels. His attachment to Beel could be tied to their kindred creation and his love for Lilith a version of the love all senior angels felt for their younger brothers and sisters, but the complete admiration he had for Lucifer was something entirely different. The sentiment was shared by most angels, complementary sighs of Lucifer’s beauty and success floating around any room he was in. But Belphegor noticed the softness Lucifer held for him and the others in their little group - a bond that would not go punished if not boasted about. Fortunately for them, boasting wasn’t in the nature of angels.

There was something about Lucifer that had Belphegor completely enamored. There was something about how he seemed so...brilliant, with magnificent wings and a certain air of vulnerability that made his few imperfections invisible. Not only did Belphie respect and admire Lucifer, he considered him his favorite. If angels were creatures of devotion, Belphegor had no issue devoting himself to Lucifer. It was hardly blasphemous to revere a creature made so as glorious as he.

Perhaps his fault was that he loved Lucifer more than his Father, or his love was too selfish. (He always knew in the back of his mind that his desire to be perfect in Lucifer’s eyes, his desire to hide away with only the seven angels that felt more like his brothers than anyone else, was sacrilegious). But at the end of the day, he had loved Lilith enough to go against Father, and he had loved Lucifer enough to trust in his battle plan. A band of disillusioned heretics was no match for the strongest armies of heaven, and their ideas were destined to burn.

And burn they did.

When he watched Lilith fall out of the clouds, Belphegor felt his heart drop, bile threatening to spill from him as he, too, slipped out of his realm. Plummeting to the ground, seven burning stars on their path to damnation, he was acutely aware of the fire encapsulating him and Beel - and yet the only burning he remembered was from his throat, raw from his screams. Just as quickly as his wings burned up and his halo fractured, all of the joy Belphegor’s life once gave to him disintegrated as well. It was replaced with a hatred just as deep, the comforting warmth turned into a scalding flame that ensured he would never forget what it once was.

The Devildom was hardly a place to fear as much as the Celestial Realm made it sound. Although Belphegor really didn’t experience much of the realm - between grappling with his grief and being lulled to sleep inexplicably most hours of the day, he didn’t have much time to irritate the denizens of his new realm. He accepted what was given to him, the room and the school itinerary, and spent his time in his room, mulling over what fate had handed to him. With no ear to listen, (one unbiased by its own pain, at least), sorrow quickly turned to bitterness. He refused to admit - or believe - that Lilith had been wrong, and a fond part of him that hadn’t yet died was reluctant to blame his past celestial siblings. It was humans who led to his downfall, humans in their stupid, ignorant, arrogant ways. They moved on too quickly, their rich energy a gilded facade that hid just how shallow and stupid they really were. It was their fault - it had to be, because the idea that it could be anybody else’s was far too terrifying to deal with.

Days turned to months turned to centuries, and Belphegor slept it all away. That was easier than dealing with the world. Besides, if what Beel told him was true, Lucifer was taking care of them. They were all in good hands.

Properly adjusting to the world, once he was forced to actually attend school (and regularly, at that! What a chore), wasn’t as horrible as he thought it might be. After all, spending so much time in the personal hell of his own mind meant that mingling with demons for eight hours of the day was a walk in the park. The worst part of his day was the school council meetings, a place in which he only learned he had just before he left to take a desperately needed afternoon nap. The meetings were boring, and he often found himself dozing off during them. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be able to offer ideas when he had nothing to offer. Lucifer scolded him, of course, for acting so disgracefully in front of Diavolo. The defensive aura prickling over both their skin made Belphegor shift in his seat, the scowl Lucifer wore like a horrifying version of the firm decision-making face he knew. The fall seemed to have done that to all of them, forcing them all into distorted versions of themselves. That time, he brushed the incident off and made an empty promise not to do it again.

He would do it again, though. There was too much effort in keeping promises.

Sometimes, though, he felt well-rested enough to stay awake during these meetings. He still slumped in his seat, head rolling back and eyes shut, but he was listening intently. It was then that he heard plans were being put forth for an exchange program - were some circles of Hell shut off from the main city of the Devildom?

Lucifer and Diavolo went back and forth, discussing logistics and statistics boring enough to almost put him back to sleep. Aside from an occasional interjection from Satan, nobody really interrupted their little lovefest - until Asmo seemed to perk up and ask excitedly, “You’re considering Solomon?!”

Finally interested in the conversation, Belphegor adjusted himself in his seat and watched Lucifer carefully. He looked worn thing and undeniably frustrated - his fault for working himself to the bone for his dumb little boyfriend - but he still spared Asmo a second to answer his question. “He would be at the top of the list, yes. It isn’t wise to bring in two humans who have no idea what they’re doing.”

Belphegor took care to hide his outburst, but his anger must have been palpable as the two heads of the table turned their attention to him. “How nice of you to join us,” Lucifer said, a hint of something completely unfamiliar underneath his breath.

“Belphegor! What do you think of the program?”

He only stared dumbly, eyes darting between the prince who had done everything wrong and his brother who he thought could never. He wasn’t concerned with revealing that he hadn’t been paying attention until this moment. For a moment, he could feel again, his sloth and hidden feelings doing nothing to dampen the turmoil inside of him. He didn’t miss being able to feel. His blood seemed to burn at his skin, like his entire red-hot soul wanted to explode out of him and destroy the entire city. “That’s what this exchange program is?”

“What’d ya think it was?” Mammon asked underneath his breath. Belphegor ignored him.

“Don’t you remember what they did to us? You didn’t forget, did you? You couldn’t have.”

His brothers either stared at him in shock or purposely looked away, examining the floor absently. Diavolo was the only one who didn’t understand, steepling his fingers in front of him and tilting his head curiously. Belphegor hated it, and fought the urge to leap at him from across the table.

“Lucifer, what the hell? We can’t just make peace with them and pretend that everything is fine!”

“No human is alive from then,” He justified, his voice missing the harsh edge Belphegor expected. Had they been in the Celestial Realm, it would have been soft and comforting, but he couldn’t risk his imposing image, could he? “Peace between the realms could improve life here more than we know.”

“What does he know?” Belphegor shouted. His throat started hurting again, reminding him of things he’d rather forget and forcing tears to prick his eyes. After blinking them away, he turned to Diavolo and started walking towards him. “You don’t know. This is a horrible idea. We can’t let them in.”

“Belphegor.”

“Wait until they tear everything you care about apart and force everyone you loved into people you barely recognize.”

He could feel the awkwardness settle over the room at that, but he also felt hot enough to burn everything in the room with one touch. Maybe that was why he was inching closer to the prince, wanting to burn him, scar him, teach him what pain was because surely he had never felt it if he thought bringing them into the Devildom was a good idea-

Belphegor ran into somebody, and it wasn’t Diavolo. It was Lucifer, who had a warning grip on Belphegor’s shoulders that felt like a plea to back down. Belphegor watched him glance over his shoulder, nodding once at Diavolo. The prince had a firm look on his face, fitting for someone of his status - too bad Belphegor was centuries past giving a shit about any of that. Gritting his teeth at the sight of Lucifer asking for permission, Belphegor tried to shake his hands off of his shoulders.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Lucifer announced, allowing Belphegor to push away from him. He wanted to rip Lucifer’s eyes out of his skull when they settled on him. “We will talk about this when I get home.”

“Like hell we will,” Belphegor hissed, turning to hurry out of the room. He didn’t bother to stop for his bag, just wanting to escape and run.

At the House of Lamentation, Belphegor kept to himself in his shared room with Beel. His twin had the wisdom to keep away for a while, though he did hear the zippers on his bag clink together when Beel dropped it off outside the door. Curled up underneath all of his blankets, Belphegor alternated between willing sleep to come to him or the weight of the covers to crush him. Nothing happened, the adrenaline and resentment coursing through him too quickly. As he held onto himself for some sense of stability, he clenched his teeth so hard his jaw locked. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, curling in on himself like a black hole and wishing he’d burn out, but he didn’t move until somebody knocked on the door. It was Beel again.

“Dinner just ended,” He said lowly. “I know you’re up. You should eat.”

That normally came with a silent I brought you food but I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself back. “Go ahead and eat it, Beel. I’m not hungry.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the door. “...You’ll die if you don’t eat.”

“I’m not you. I can skip one meal,” Another silence, one that gave Belphegor a moment of enough sanity to make a plan. Shuffling, he made his way to the door and opened it, surprised to see Beel still standing there. He was unsurprised to see him with half a phoenix leg in his mouth.

“Sor-” He started, voice muffled by the food. Belphegor put a hand up and walked past him. “Where are you going?”

“Lucifer had to talk to me, remember?” Belphegor didn’t look back, knowing the pained look that would be watching him if he did.

Lucifer knew who it was when he knocked - hell, he probably had their knocks memorized at this point - and called for Belphegor to come in. Just seeing Lucifer made all the anger come rushing back in a blistering wave, but Belphegor bit his tongue and fought it back.

“I take it, since you came to me, you’ve come to your senses?” Lucifer asked. When he clenched his fists, Belphegor felt the hostile way Lucifer glanced at them.

“What the fuck?” He asked. Unfazed, Lucifer only blinked. “How could you do this? You know what they did.”

“Belphegor, every human isn’t to blame-”

“Of course they are!” Belphegor didn’t care about how loud he was getting and how quickly he was unraveling. He was angry, and he needed Lucifer to see what he was seeing. “Who else? If she hadn’t fallen for that idiot-”

Cutting himself off, Belphegor clenched his teeth again and doubled over. Was this how Satan felt all the time, so consumed by a rage he didn’t know what to do with? Lucifer hesitated, but his words showed no such remorse. “I know that...it’s hard to believe people who we thought were family would betray us like that-”

“No it fucking isn’t!” When Belphegor straightened himself out and levelled Lucifer in a murderous glare, Lucifer immediately stood up. “That’s what you’re doing right now! You’re throwing me under the bus because, what, your prince wants to do something stupid?”

“Belphie,” Lucifer’s voice was softer than he had ever heard since the fall, but the way he squared his shoulders warned him to watch his step lest he step on a landmine. Unlike the spineless demon in front of him, though, Belphegor wasn’t a coward, and he was going to stomp through the field and hope he blew themselves both up. “We can talk about this.”

“They killed her, Lucifer. They killed Lilith, and if you wanted to talk about it, you should have done it centuries ago.”

The silence that followed felt suffocating, hovering with all the pain and anger left unsaid woven between the hesitation. He was stuck in a culmination of atrocities surmounting to their peak, the inevitable fall not finishing on a battlefield in glory but in a stupid fucking office. Belphegor could feel the content of the books surrounding them, filled with the words and law of the creatures he had been taught to despise since day one, one of the only two demons he'd ever truly been able to hate standing in the middle. Shaking with what he wished he could say, Belphegor wanted to prompt Lucifer to say something. He regretted the thought when he opened his mouth.

“I know what you’re about to say, Belphegor. Watch what you say next,” Lucifer said, slowly. Belpheor didn’t doubt that, but he let out a scorned laugh all the same.

“I’ll kill it. Them. Both.” His voice sounded much lower than he had ever heard it, like he was using it to its full demonic potential for the first time. “I’ll kill the human you bring down here.”

Lucifer rounded his desk and stepped carefully towards Belphegor. “Watch it.”

“Anything! Anything to stop this stupid program,” Instincitively stepping back, Belphegore’s gaze unfocused for a moment. “I’ll kill your precious prince, too. This can’t happen. It isn’t-”

All at once, Belphegor’s voice cut off and his back hit the wall behind him. His legs dangled a distance from the ground, and it took him a moment of being unable to breathe to realize Lucifer pinned him to the wall by his neck. He found himself staring at Lucifer framed in an endless black void, noticing a few moments later that he was in demon form and his wings were stretched out. His red eyes were staring through him, as if deciding what to do with the demon hanging limply in his grasp.

Lucifer didn’t give him the luxury of an explanation, instead forcing him down the hall and up the only staircase to the attic. When he was thrown forward, Belphegor felt what little breath was left being forced out of his lungs. He could vaguely hear Lucifer chanting something and bars forcing themselves into place, but by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. Stumbling to the bars, still uneasy on his feet in his fatigue, Belphegor pressed himself against the bars. Lucifer stood just out of reach, and the thought that it had been like this since they were demons tasted bitter on his tongue.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice a harsh rasp. “You’re just- leaving me here?”

It was the first time Belphegor saw uncertainty flicker in Lucifer’s gaze, but he couldn’t find any pleasure in it with metal bars pressing into his face and chest. “Believe me when I say this is what’s best for you,” Lucifer said.

Belphegor didn’t know how long Lucifer was planning to keep him up there, but the finality circling around him was as bad an omen as any. When Lucifer turned to walk away, he began throwing himself against the bars, screaming his protests and promising to find a way out. He couldn’t see the pain on Lucifer’s face with his back turned - but his own angry, desperate tears would have blurred his vision anyway. Still, he wouldn’t resort to begging to be let go, not if it meant accepting a world where humans wouldn’t pay for what they did to his whole family.

For the second time in his life, Belphegor screamed his voice hoarse. For the second time, when he was done, his cheeks wet and body exhausted, he crawled into the nearest bed and lay in contemplative silence. There was one small window in the attic, one he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape from, and from it the moon shone through and painted the otherwise dark room a misty white. He remembered how he had stared at a similar moon and wondered with the humans about what it’d be like to go there, and felt as though he had finally made it there only to realize it was nothing but a dusty rock.

He hated being stuck without his brothers, being able to hear their commotion through the floorboards but knowing they didn’t miss him at all. He hated having so much time left to his thoughts, and it only embittered him more. Most of all, he hated Lucifer, hated how he could so clearly remember how great he had been and how pathetic he turned out to be. The illusion of fallen angels no longer stuck in his mind - he was the complete opposite of his former self, so it only made sense that Lucifer was, too. What once was great and admirable was now nothing short of disgusting, and Belphegor had allowed him to trick him into thinking he might still be worth something. Everything he loved had been torn apart and distorted into a monster even he couldn’t stomach.

How easy it was to be fooled by the things you loved.

How easy it was to fall for them.