#and hoping to summon them (back) to tumblr

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

havent really had more indepth thoughts since than the posts i made last night but i just got to the "my name is zephyr" line again

like it's meant to be heavy bc we knows names are Sacred (<- lots of worldbuilding questions there forever to remain unanswered) and so yes theres the trust in penance, but it's also like, to claim a name, "my", is to claim an identity. it's an expression that there is something more to you than just your role, your function, the cause youre in service of.

and if transition is the only thing shes ever done for herself, right? and all the rest has been in Service. what shes called at any point is just the title of her function in the circumstances. but to say My Name is to claim an identity, that exists for its own sake. as is. not for anything. just is.

and if she chose the name herself, it's like an expression of a Want. which is what i was talking abt with the joy/pleasure thing. she doesnt Want anything, really, except maybe just for "this to be over". she starts out, in this story, at like the most Unwanting state you can have. being suicidal, most of the time, rather than a positive wanting to be dead, usually it's more a negative not wanting to be alive, you know what i mean?

and she remains in that state for all of the story we get. she doesnt really Want anything in a positive sense, mostly just wants like, things not to be like this. the world not to be like this. and not to be in the position shes in. but shes stuck in that position bc the world is like this. so the only way out is to try and make it,,,not like this. which is the main thing driving her for the whole season i think.

to say "my name is zephyr" i think is an expression of a positive desire. it's i want to be zephyr. it's, maybe, i want to just live. i want to just live instead of i want to stop fighting.

[dark-silhouette]

Good night dear Adar lovers..

This is my first attempt at fanfic in all these years on tumblr! (the first one turned out to be smut haha) so please be good 🤣🥲

I leave here what came from my dirty mind when I saw this beautiful gif of Adar.. 🥵

It has been left in 2 parts so this is the first, it is a little calmer than the second part so, the good part will come... what inspired me the most about the image is in the second part so be patient :)

I also leave an image of more or less what the reader would look like based on the description I made 🙌🏻😅

Also, Adar is a little dark in this fic.

Adar xReader

Enjoy!

I hope you like it! 💗💕

The radiant moonlight, high in the velvet night, reflected upon you, casting a gentle glow upon your fair features. The pale hue of your skin shimmered in its light, mingling with the rivulets of water that traced every curve of your form. Your long, raven-black hair clung to your body, sleek against your glowing skin. You stood within your cherished retreat—a secluded bend in the river, known only to a few. Here, a waterfall concealed the entrance to a hidden cave, a sanctuary where you could come to cleanse yourself, unseen by the eyes of the world.

But tonight, you had chosen differently—a choice that might lead you down a path fraught with danger, or perhaps something more. Moments before, you had shed your garments one by one, allowing them to fall silently upon the earth. Your hair cascaded freely down your back, and your body embraced the cold touch of the wind, sending a slight shiver through your being.

With graceful steps, you approached the river's edge, the waterfall's roar echoing softly in the distance. Though always careful to guard your privacy, for you could not bear for any stranger's gaze to fall upon your form, tonight you made an exception. No one was worthy of such a privilege—no one, save for him. Adar. Once an elf, now an uruk.

The one for whom you would sacrifice all, for just a glance, a touch, a kiss. Your decision to come here tonight, under the watchful moon, had already borne fruit. For you were not alone.

From the shadows, gray-blue eyes beheld you, tracing the lines of your body, observing every movement in silent contemplation.

Your heart quickened as his presence became known to you, though you had not fully turned toward him. The water's surface rippled around your waist, leaving your form exposed from the waist upward. With a slow, deliberate gesture, you swept your hair forward, laying it over your right shoulder, baring your back to him.

Turning your head just enough, you revealed the profile of your face, and in the dim light, your sapphire eyes locked with his. You summoned all your will to cast him a glance, filled with unspoken desire.

In response, you thought you heard a low, primal growl escape him, barely audible, but unmistakable as your gazes met.

Sensing his attention deepening, you turned fully, your movements deliberate and unhurried, allowing him to see you in all your radiant beauty, your upper body now laid bare before the uruk.

Your hands began to move with deliberate grace, tenderly running through your raven locks, washing them with care. Then, with languid precision, your hand traced a path from your chin down to your neck, each movement slow and measured, as your eyes never left his. There was an unspoken connection between your gaze and his, something deep, primal. Your delicate fingers caressed your breasts with the gentleness they deserved, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you heared the uruk's breathing quicken.

You were not mistaken. In the shadows, his body remained still, though his gaze, fierce and unwavering, followed every inch of your movement. His breath grew heavier and the blood that coursed through his veins seemed to heat with each passing second as he watched your moonlit form. His entire being simmered with a heat he had long suppressed. His eyes never left your figure, not for an instant.

The air itself seemed to be still as his gaze followed the journey of your hands. His breath faltered the moment your fingertips wandered lower, lingering at your belly before venturing further.

A low, guttural growl erupted from his throat, raw and animalistic, as though he were teetering off the edge of control. His eyes gleamed with feral intensity as he beheld the parting of your lips, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from between them.

It was then that Adar moved, stepping forward, emerging from the shadows that had once concealed him. His gaze was sharp and calculating, yet it could not conceal the fire burning within him- the unspoken desire to claim, to possess you.

Your hands stilled, your breath caught in your chest, as you saw him fully tall, imposing, cloaked in black, with his dark hair falling loose about his scarred face. There was something about those marks that made him all the more compelling, more dangerous.

For a brief moment, you waited. You knew well that look in his eyes, for it was a command unspoken, a demand of submission, of yielding. His piercing gaze penetrated yours, delving deeper, reaching into the recesses of your heart and soul.

For an instant, his eyes flicked toward the waterfall behind you, and in that moment, you understood his will.

Your slender form turned swiftly, heading toward the concealed cave behind the cascade. Upon your arrival, you paused, awaiting Adar’s presence, but no shadow darkened the entrance, and no sound of approach met your ears. With mounting concern, you grasped the hem of your long gown, swiftly donning it, intent on discovering what might have transpired beyond the veil of the waterfall.

Barefoot, you ventured cautiously along the narrow path that skirted the cavern’s edge, the cool mist of the waterfall dampening your skin. But just as your steps carried you near the exit, your breath halted, and your heart seemed to cease its rhythm, for there, before you, stood a tall and darkened figure, blocking your way. His presence was imposing, a force unto itself, and his eyes—like embers burning with some deep, hidden fire—fixed themselves upon yours, unyielding.

You raised your gaze, meeting his intense stare. A sense of bewilderment overcame you, as though you were caught in some enchantment.

"Meleth..." he said, his voice low yet commanding, laced with a dark, unspoken desire.

A sudden rush of adrenaline and a strange nervousness filled your veins, quickening your pulse.

His stance was wild, untamed—his tone a mixture of demand and longing as he asked.

"Where do you think you are going?".

@nezzlysixx @zoya-olenko

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Please Don't Prove I'm Right

This is based on the song Please Please Please (Epic Version) - by Morgan Clae. I haven't written in a long time; my mental health has taken a significant toll not too long ago. I have been going to some consistent therapy as well as taking things slowly on my own terms. I thank my support and followers right next to me as I recover. The banners are all from @venomhound. Please reach out to them for some excellent help with the Tumblr blog. They have been a big help to me. @literallurker is their main account. Thank you everyone for bearing with me. You are all amazing. My moons~

TW: AFAB Reader, Hurt, Graphic Details of Harm, Religious Truama's, Yandere Reader for a moment

In the beginning, heaven was a breathtaking expanse of glistening white, where clouds floated like soft pillows in an endless sky. The angels above drifted gracefully among them, their laughter echoing with pure joy, and the air held an ethereal light that felt almost alive. It was a realm of boundless beauty reserved solely for God’s beloved.

But everything changed when Lucifer, once the most cherished of all angels, was cast down. The pristine clouds darkened, their softness replaced by a bitter heaviness that weighed down the heavens. The once-gleaming landscape morphed into a realm of towering structures and watchful exorcists. The loss was palpable, as if the heavens themselves mourned the fall of its brightest star.

When you first encountered Lucifer, you were just a baby angel, a mere child of the heavens. You were newly formed, wide-eyed, and full of wonder, destined to guide the three humans wandering in the paradise of Eden. You felt an unshakeable bond with him—a connection transcending mere friendship. He was your sun, your air, the essence of your existence in this perfect world. 

Lucifer was intoxicatingly brilliant, his spirit igniting something that felt sinful within you. Yet, whispers of his rumored affections for a human stirred around you. It was said that he had fallen for one of them—impossible, you thought. God’s favorite should follow divine order, untouched by earthly desires, especially for a mortal once destined for Adam and soon rejected.

As you flitted anxiously through the heavens, awaiting his return, you could feel the eyes of the other angels upon you, judgment simmering in their stares. Sera, a newly appointed Seraphim, approached her voice a gentle choir against your rummaging thoughts. 

“Y/N, you seem troubled. Is everything all right?” Her youthful features were unmarred by the weight of time, yet you could sense the unspoken warnings in her tone.

“I’m just waiting for Lucifer,” you replied, forcing a smile. “He’s never taken this long before.” 

You could hear the skepticism in her voice before you even looked up. “Y/N, he’s trouble. He doesn’t see you the way he sees that woman. His heart is blind to your devotion, lost to her instead.”

Each word struck like a dagger, stinging your eyes with tears. “No, Sera. He cares for me. He tells me everything about his adventures in Eden. He will come back for me.” Your voice trembled with hope and desperation as if your sadness could summon him.

Just then, like a flash of lightning, Lucifer burst through the gates, the embodiment of energy and life. He swooped down, wrapping you in a joyous embrace, spinning you through the clouds, laughter spilling from his lips like music. You could feel Sera’s disdain radiating from behind, but you didn’t care. In that moment, you were weightless, untouchable...his.

In an instant, he whisked you away to a secluded corner of heaven, where you could gaze down upon Eden. Confusion washed over you as you settled on a fluffy cloud, watching him pace with uncontainable excitement, his wings shimmering behind him. He was always so proud of his beautiful wings.

“Y/N! I’ve discovered how to make Father recognize the humans as equals!” he declared, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Why would you want that?” you asked, a knot tightening in your chest. “We’re different for a reason. We’re not meant to be like them.”

His face fell as he paused, the thrill evaporating. “I need them to be seen as equals so I can bring them to heaven with us! Don’t you remember everything I’ve shared? All the dreams I have?” 

The ache in your heart deepened. You wanted to forget, to lose yourself in his bright hair and vibrant blue eyes, but the thought of Adam, Eve, and Lilith standing beside you twisted like a knife, no, not beside you...beside him. Two perfect couples, it seemed.

“Of course, I remember,” you said, forcing a smile. “Please, continue.” But inside, a storm raged between your heart and mind. 

What if you could just keep him for yourself? What if you shattered his wings, leaving him grounded and broken? What if you descended into the chaos below and extinguished Lilith’s light? What if you bound him to your will, claiming him as your own?

In that moment, you felt the weight of your thoughts, and the realization stung sharper than any blade. He was meant for her, not for you. There is no way when he spoke of you to her, if he did that, she had these thoughts...were you even an angel?

A chill ran down your spine as these dark fantasies engulfed your mind, each thought more treacherous than the last. You gasped, the air thick with dread, realizing you were still with Lucifer, his presence a paradox of comfort and ongoing torment. 

He rushed to you, his fingers brushing your cheek with a heavenly and cruel tenderness. His soothing yet distant voice echoed in your ears as a haunting melody. He was perfection incarnate, and you couldn’t fathom why those mere mortals deserved even a fraction of his devotion. You were willing to sin to keep him all to yourself...

After countless attempts to gain your attention, he realized it was futile. With a gentle sweep, he lifted you into the air, his wings unfurling majestically as he flew you to your resting zone—a serene haven that now felt like a ticking clock counting down to your last moment of peace. 

If only you had known this would be your final day in his embrace, perhaps you would have listened more intently, held him tighter against the wind, and begged him to affirm that your bond was real—that his heart belonged to you, not to that woman on the surface.

But morning shattered the tranquility, a sudden onslaught of light and chaos. Angels gathered, their faces a storm of judgment as Lucifer stood before them, shackled and tormented, bound to that woman from below. 

Tears blurred your vision as the reality of betrayal washed over you. He had chosen her, and in a cruel twist of fate, you were forced to witness your shame laid bare before God and all the Angels you shared home with. 

Then came the searing pain—the molten metal of chains biting into your neck and wrists, dragging you toward the center of the circle of wrath. Confusion clouded your thoughts as you locked eyes with Sera, whose disdainful glance pierced through your confusion like a dagger.

“Y/N, DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU’VE BEEN SUMMONED HERE WITH THESE TWO TRAITORS?” The voice boomed, a thunderous echo that reverberated through your very essence. You looked past Sera to see Him—the man the Archangels called Father, his presence both majestic and terrifying. With a shaky breath, you swallowed your fear and shook your head.

“No, Father, I don’t understand. Why am I being punished?” Each word felt like a desperate plea, even as the burning sensation clawed at your skin, choking you of your right to breathe.

“Father, please! Y/N is innocent! She knew nothing of my plans; she was ill when I confided in her last night!” Lucifer’s voice, once a safe haven for your soul, now felt like salt in an open wound. The sincerity in his plea twisted your heart, revealing the depths of betrayal you had yet to fully grasp.

“Silence, Lucifer, for God speaks! The matter at hand isn’t who has wronged whom but that this angel knew of your treachery and chose to remain silent!” Your world crumbled hearing Sera’s voice. You were to fall alongside those who had deceived you, tethered to the very man who had strung you along with promises and soft whispers late in the night, now choosing to partake in those nights with Lilith instead.

“FOR YOUR PUNISHMENT, Y/N, YOU WILL BE THE JUDGE OF THE SPACE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. YOU WILL DETERMINE THE FATE OF SOULS, FOR YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO WALK AMONG BOTH SIDES! YOU WILL FACE ETERNAL LONELINESS AND ISOLATION FOR YOUR TRANGRESSIONS UPON HEAVEN AND EDEN!” Fear engulfed you, a suffocating darkness that threatened to consume all hope. You were to be cast into a purgatory of your own making, alone and forsaken.

“Release her shackles!” As Sera’s voice cut through the air like a blade, you felt the chains around you dissolve, yet the burn marks remained, a permanent reminder of your choices. You were thrust away from Lucifer, your heart pounding against the confines of your chest, and when your eyes finally met his, you saw the flicker of concern. It ignited a deep-seated rage within you.

Pain shot through your back like lightning as your wings began to transform from gleaming white to a deep, obsidian black. Your halo, once a radiant gold, dulled to bronze, and your skin took on a gray hue. The purity of your existence was now tainted by your one-sided love for Lucifer.

“FATHER, NO! SPARE HER!” Lucifer’s desperate cries echoed through the heavens, but they fell on deaf ears. You stood there, hollowed out, your heart aching not for the punishment before you but for the betrayal that had led you here.

As the Archangel Michael took his stance next to Lucifer, he raised his sword, poised to sever Lucifer's wings. You were forced to witness the agony of his fall. His screams of anguish faded into the abyss as the clouds beneath you crumbled, sending you spiraling into your new reality.

For years, you lingered in purgatory, a silent reaper of the soul’s passage, guiding some to Heaven’s light and casting others into the depths of Hell. With each soul that passed through your hands, your heart grew heavy with bitterness, festering into a resentment that twisted into distaste. You found yourself haunted by thoughts of Lucifer—by the life he now shared with her, the woman who claimed his heart and turned your world upside down.

Then came the day you were summoned to Heaven, tasked with presenting your report on the balance of Winners and Sinners. It was there, amid the looming towers and the changed landscape of your once home, that you first laid eyes on her—Charlie Morningstar, a living echo of Lucifer, with his fiery spirit shimmering in her every gesture.

As you sat in the grand jury meeting, the air thick with tension, you listened to the murmurs of angels discussing Lucifer and Lilith’s child. Your heart ached as you watched Charlie fight for her dreams, her passion reminiscent of his—how he had once battled for his aspirations, now he was seemingly forgotten till Charlie showed up.

Then, as if summoned by fate, Adam snapped his fingers, opening a portal to cast Charlie and her partner back to hell. Just as it threatened to close, a surge of instinct propelled you forward, a desperate need to reach him again, the man you loved, to grasp the fleeting connection you had lost. You rushed toward the portal, your heart racing, your soul crying out to see him missing you.

On the other side, Lucifer stood, his eyes wide with shock and recognition. Amidst his hand, a cold golden band sat, showing where his commitments lie. Time froze as you locked gazes, every unspoken word hanging heavy between you. He extended his hand, a lifeline reaching through the veil, but the portal snapped shut instantly, severing the moment like a blade.

Tears welled in your eyes as despair washed over you, your head drooping low as the chamber emptied around you. Sera approached her presence, a gentle reminder of all those years ago, offering solace amid your sadness.

"It's time to let go, Y/N," she murmured, her voice soft yet firm. You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily in your chest. With a trembling hand, you reached out to the wall where the portal had been, yearning for the connection that had vanished.

As Sera sighed and stepped away, you whispered, “Please, please, please prove I’m right...Please, please, please don’t bring me to tears for one more night...” 

Years of pent-up emotions, longing, and heartache surged in a wave. A soft black glow began to envelop you. It consumed you, drawing you back into the solitude that Lucifer had unwittingly gifted you—a prison of your own making. Purgatory was your new and forever home.

Instead of proving you right, Lucifer had always been a master of disappointment, a beacon of hope that burned too bright yet always flickered just out of reach. He would continue to choose her, leaving you alone in the shadows, grappling with the remnants of a love that had never truly belonged to you. Or...did it...

Thank you again, everyone, for the support; I will slowly take steps back into the community one foot at a time. I hope you enjoy my pieces and stick around for my growth <3

[moodymisty]

Since I remember you saying on a previous post that it would be fun for you to write. I’d like to request a konrad x gn reader.

He’s what the the people on tumblr call a “poor little meow meow”. And I’d just like to see him not only tormented by visions but also by basic human feelings of affection and attraction

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: This was fun to write :> I hope you both enjoy. This is my first real time writing anything for Konrad.

Summary: Konrad searches for you after you refused to listen to him.

Relationships: Konrad Curze/Gn!Reader

Warnings: NIGHT LORDS CONTENT, Blood, Gore mentions, Sevatar bullies you because he can, Abuse probably, Toxic relationship based on fear but also he kinda fine tho, Predator/Prey, It's Night Lords content I don't know what else I can say

Word Count: 1395

You remember the words of Primarch Fulgrim when he’d first cast eyes on you.

‘Truly, he is utterly obsessed with you.’

You hadn't understood what he meant of it at the time. Though as time has gone by, your think back on it now and see what Fulgrim had been referring to.

Konrad speaks of you with a demented sort of worship, like you hold the only key to his ever elusive happiness. He’s obsessed with you, obedient to you, he’ll give you anything you desire no matter what it takes.

But most of all, he wants you to look at him and only him.

"There you are, little toy."

You turn and look to see a familiar set of dark blue armor, marred by smatterings of dried blood and scratches from its many years of dependable use.

You know Sevatar does this because he thinks it's demeaning to not call a superior by their proper title. Especially in a hierarchy as strict as an Astartes legion. You couldn't care less. You call him Jago anyways, and he always gives an odd little smile when you do.

You know more than likely why he's here. Konrad had attempted to summon you somewhere you refused to go- where you'd rather die than go- and now he's sending someone for you. Any other might assume that your living minutes were numbered after such a refusal towards a Primarch, though you think Konrad allows you to do so because he enjoys that you're scared.

"...Jago?"

Sevatar finds the whole thing both amusing and annoying. He has better things to do than fetch his genefather's cute little plaything. Though at least you provide enough amusement for it to be better than some of the other tasks he's been delegated over his years.

He steps into your personal space- not hard given the sheer size of the man- resting a hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He doesn’t grab for you, but you know he wants to.

"If you're not going to come when he calls," Sevatar leans over you, and you can smell the rotten flesh on his armor; See the way his eyes dart over your face. “Then you might want to just run instead and give him something fun."

You can only dare to look him in the eyes, and although he can see right through it, you attempt to not completely shatter under his gaze.

Though right as your hands start to shake Sevatar leans up and chuckles, before walking away.

The Nightfall is astronomical in size, you have no idea where you could possibly go. And getting lost could mean stumbling into Night Lords who care far less than Sevatar does about keeping their Primarch happy.

To them, they’ll taken whatever punishment put upon them if they get a chance to play with something as sweet as you, as Sevatar once said. The thought had made your throat tighten. Especially hearing his tone; That as much as you trust Sevatar- and maybe even Talos- more than the other Night Lords, he was thinking the same as them.

But you only know of a few places on the Gloriana class ship that you can get to without guidance. Konrad has been very deliberate with making sure you stay within his eyeline.

The bridge, which will be swarming with Night Lords and is more than likely where Konrad himself is. Then there is the area of the ship that serves as Konrad's private quarters. It’s familiar to you, he knows you would go there. The only other place is the small librarium that serves as a temporary placement for parchment of value being saved before returning to Nostramo.

It's largely empty. Pskyers in the legion are next to none, and only a few people keep the area from falling into any disrepair.

With Sevatar gone you instantly begin running for it, trying to make your way and avoid the eyes of anyone around.

Any large bang on the walls sounds like his boots, any scrape of machinery against metal sounds like his lightning claws. You keep looking over your shoulder every time.

When you finally reach it you don't even feel relieved; You know Konrad will find you.

You know that even if you had somehow managed to evade him for a moment Sevatar knows where you are- you'd be dumb if you hadn't noticed the feeling of his eyes on you, watching- he would just tell his genefather where you were to get his distraction concluded with faster.

You've never been particularly scared of the dark, but now it feels so enveloping. And while the unknown is terrifying, it also helps you feel small, tucked between shelves. While your heart might have relaxed from pounding against your rib cage from running, it’s still racing as your ears prick to every little sound. You touch old parchment with a fingertip, feeling rough against your skin.

You don't know how long it's been; Your stomach grumbles a bit, but it's hard to tell if it's hunger or nausea.

You can hear the door open, and the sound of boots on the floor. It makes your heart nearly stop for a moment.

You know it's him from the weight of them. You steel yourself back against a shelf and look towards the end where there's still a bit of light and can only wait.

To think, the man you think you love, who professes his obsession with you at every moment, can make you feel like this.

You imagine those moments where his black hair frames his face and his eyes aren’t nearly as dark when he looks at you, as his shadow approaches.

He finally catches sight of you, and his voice softens just a bit. Primarch voices are always so loud, especially when they yell, and he seems to always talk to you like you’re so, so gentle.

"There you are."

His cape brushes against the ground as he comes closer. He overtakes any little amount of light there is, shadowing your body in an even more darkness.

“Your hiding is cute, my love, but you know I'll always find you."

He isn’t wearing his full armor, only some cloth trousers and heavy boots leaving his upper body unclothed. You think they were the ones given to him by Fulgrim. His recent time with his brother has had a noticeable effect, though the smile he gives you is still while endearing- though perhaps that’s just you and your love for him- is still off.

He bows to get just close enough to you to grab your jaw with his right hand, but when that isn't close enough, he takes a knee.

His eyes are like voids as you look into him, his skin is perfect. The smile on his face you'd dare to call handsome of you weren't here; If he didn't have you cornered like a whimpering animal.

Why did it have to be him; Out of everyone in the galaxy, why did it have to be him that saw something in you worth loving. And why do you keep coming back for more.

That evening with Fulgrim had almost made him seem normal, and now you're back here; Back in Hell.

“Are you going to run again? Or just cry?” His fingers touch just below your eye, breaking your waterline and sending a single tear down your cheek. He leans even closer.

“You look so sweet when you cry.” His lips press against the shell of your ear.

"If you ever say his name like that again, I will make you step into that Gallery, my love."

You assume he must mean Jago. You don't know how he heard you, but you know he's obsessive, dominating, all-consuming; That you are his ever so tiny sliver of happiness he won't let go of. He's said before you are the only thing that makes his world not feel like torment, and you'd find almost romantic if it wasn't so suffocating.

His lips leave the shell of your ear and ghost over your own, as they tremble. You'd try and pull away if you weren't so trapped in him. You hate that even with how much he scares you, he has you caught like a fishhook.

"No one gets to hear you say their name but me."

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

READ 70 PAGES OF THE GOOD OMENS BOOK WITH WHICH I HAVE HOMOEROTIC TENSION AS WE KNOW

WE ALL KNOW ABOUT THE HOMOEROTIC RIVALRY BETWEEN ME AND MY COPY OF THE GOOD OMENS BOOK. WE KNOW. IT STARES AT ME, I STARE BACK, IT DARES ME TO READ IT AND FALL IN LOVE WITH CROWLEY MORE, I REFUSE. WE PUT THE UST IN LUST ETC.

BUT TODAY/YESTERDAY (RIP SLEEP SCHEDULE) SINCE I WASNT ON TUMBLR, I READ TILL PAGE 70 OF THE BOOK (TILL THE PART CALLED WEDNESDAY) AND GOD FUCKING DAMN. I READ IT LISTENING TO AN AZIRAPHALE BOOKSHOP AMBIENCE AND WITH CHOPIN PLAYING AND CANDLES LIT. ANYWAY. THINGS THAT HAVE STUCK OUT TO ME:

Crowley. Just everything about Crowley. God I love him. I fucking love him. This is why I avoid reading the book. I'm such a slut for Crowley. It's manageable on the show when I know it's an actor. But WORDS CROWLEY? WORDS CROWLEY IS REAL. I AM SO IN LOVE.

Aziraphale has perfectly manicured hands. I'm pretty sure this has been mentioned three times in the first 70 pages. Three times at minimum. I forget how twink he is in the show (idk how) but man the book does NOT let you forget and I love that.

Crowley absent-mindedly sank a duck. Aziraphale called him my dear (fanfic authors everywhere: write that down write that motherfucking shit down it's better than porn). Crowley un-sunk the duck. The duck was cross.

CROWLEY DID I MENTIONED CROWLEY OH MY BABY FANCIED THE JAMES BOND DECALS HE WANTED TO LISTEN TO VIVALDI COZ THEY WERE SO STRESSED AFTER RECEIVING THE ANTICHRIST THEY LOVE GOLDEN GIRLS (I LOOKED IT UP AND OH CROWLEY) THEY DRANK FOR A WEEK AFTER SEEING THE SPANISH INQUISITION THEY OMG.

THE DRUNK SCENE. I FINALLY UNDERSTOOD THE DOLPHINS CONVERSATION. OMG THESE TWO FUCKING FOOLS I ADORE THEM.

Crowley IN THAT SCENE AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT SCENE HOLY SHIT. CROWLEY JUST LISTING OFF ALL THE THINGS SHE KNOWS AZIRAPHALE LOVES.

AND OMG. The CONVOLUTED FUCKING METAPHOR CROWLEY COMES UP WITH INVOLVING A LITTLE BIRD FLYING TO THE ENDS OF THE UNIVERSE AND PECKING A MOUNTAIN AND COMING BACK AND DOING IT ON LOOP. FOR WHAT? JUST TO SAY THAT WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WAS GONE, HEAVEN WOULD STILL BE PLAYING THE SOUND OF MUSIC.

As usual just like me Crowley shot himself in the foot with that metaphor. Because AZIRAPHALE, THE LEGEND, STARTS SAYING THE BIRD MUST BE IMMORTAL FOR THAT, AND THEN SAYS NO ACTUALLY THE BIRD IS BEING CARRIED IN A SPACESHIP AND THE DESCENDANTS EMERGE FROM THE SPACESHIP and poor crowley is saying SO THE BIRD REACHES THE MOUNTAIN and azi excitedly says IN THE SPACESHIP and AAAAAAAAA-

Anyway right yes sorry what were we doing oh right the book.

Anathema is so adorable as a kid what a little brat holy shit I love her. I want to see all her homework written in Middle English. I want to know which teacher finally summoned the balls to correct it.

NEWT MON CHERI HE'S SO EXCITED ABOUT ONLY DESTROYING THE HOUSE'S POWER CIRCUIT WITH HIS EXPERIMENT. Because apparently last time he fucking caused a power outage in the whole block. Or county. We stan an optimist (no one talk to me about Crowley being an optimist I will go feral and rip your larynx out).

THE THIRD BABY DID NOT WIN PRIZES FOR TROPICAL FISH. THIS IS LIKE THE ENDING OF VILETTE WHEN CHARLOTTE BRONTE GOT GUILTTRIPPED BY HER DAD INTO WRITING IT AS AN OPEN ENDING BUT WE ALL KNOW IT'S A TRAGEDY FUCK ME.

CROWLEY THE PRAY THAT HE DOESN'T IT SOUNDS SO SUAVE IN THE SHOW BUT IN THE BOOK IT LITERALLY SAYS "AND FLEES". THE CHAOTIC ANXIOUS MOTHERFUCKER MAKES A RUN FOR IT.

AZIRAPHALE FUCKING GLOWERING AT CUSTOMERS AND SCARING THEM AWAY USING EVERY MEANS SHORT OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE IM DEAD THAT LITTLE BASTARD PEAK CROSS INTROVERT ELDRITCH MONSTER ENERGY.

I CAN'T WAIT FOR ADAM TO ENTER (WELL AS A NOT BABY) AHAH.

I HOPE WARLOCK IS OKAY.

CROWLEY BEING DESCRIBED AS A YOUNG MAN DOES THINGS TO ME. AS DO THE DARK HAIR AND GOOD CHEEKBONES. DON'T EVEN TALK ABOUT DOING WEIRD THINGS WITH HIS TONGUE. I AM A SLUT FOR HER. IT'S TIMES LIKE THIS I REMEMBER WHY IM GREYACE AND NOT ENTIRELY ASEXUAL. IT'S CROWLEY.

I LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKES LIKE I DON'T EVEN GET SOME BUT THE DRY TONE IS HILARIOUS. LIKE HOW BOTH WARLOCK'S HEAVENLY AND HELLISH TUTORS READ FROM THE BOOK OF REVELATION. AND THE CUTTING COMMENTARY LIKE HOW THE DOWLINGS' SECRET AGENTS WERE TRAINED TO REACT TO WOMEN IN LONG ROBES. OR THE POLITICAL COMEDY WITH ALL THE CULTURAL ATTACHES AT ST JAMES. IT MAKES ME AMUSED EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO CONTEXT. I WISH I UNDERSTOOD THEM MORE.

SORRY WHY AM I YELLING ABOUT THIS BEFORE 6 IN THE MORNING FUCK I FORGOT MY SLEEP MEDS NO WONDER IM STILL AWAKE AND HYPER ALSO CROWLEY ALSO AZI ALSO ADAM I HOPE MY LITTLE PLANTS MAKE IT.

WHEN IM DONE READING THE BOOK I WANNA REREAD IT OUT LOUD TO MY THREE LITTLE PLANTS TO MAKE THEM GROW HAPPY AND KNOW WHOM THEY WERE NAMED AFTER.

[britcision]

I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

[softlysuga]

satan's sweetheart [ch. 1]

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you.

pairing: taehyung x female demon!reader genre: fluff, crack, smut (but in the other chapters) rating: pg-13 wc: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of the underworld, death (like the Reaper), pagan activities? i mean the woman literally summons a demon LOL

note: prompt is by @writing-prompt-s! i thought it was actually fcking hilarious and half the time i was writing i was like wtf is this LOL also thank you to @jtrbluv for beta reading! my d1 tumblr moot ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

-> let me know if you want me to make a taglist for this fic or any other fics :)

There’s a tugging sensation at your stomach, and your lips curl into a smile. 

A summoning. Finally. 

Relaxing, you let the sorcery of the summoning whisk you away from your dwelling and hear the familiar pop in your ears as you enter the human realm. Dust setting, you open your eyes, hoping to feast your eyes on your next meal. 

“Who dares to summon—” you boom in your demonic form, clouds of smoke entering the room and a glow of evil cloaking your figure. Of course, it’s all theatrics.  

But…

“I’m so sorry, I tried calling for a babysitter but no one was free,” a frazzled-looking woman interrupts, “and I know, you’re probably like, well, can’t you ask family—”

The woman scrambles to find her keys and belongings, slowly lugging her bag to a door. You stand a few feet away in the middle of a summoning star adorned with a few candles and eerie-looking symbols. There’s an offering of fruits and leftover Halloween candy, along with an edition of the Grand Grimoire. 

“—and I did! I asked Taehyung to come over, that brat, always shirking from his responsibilities, but he said he’s in the middle of a basketball game? Can you believe him? I had asked him to a month ago, and he still managed to forget! Ugh, younger brothers. Anyway, it’s not like I can ask my parents because they’re dead.” 

Surprised, you cut the theatrics and unwind into your natural form. “I mean, Old Reaper spares no one,” you chuckle, shooing away the clouds and lightning. “He’s kind of a nasty fellow, that one. Always so grumpy.”  

The woman freezes, one hand in the midst of putting on a shoe. She turns around, stunned. “You changed.” 

You frown. “Did you expect me to stay in that form forever? It’s actually quite energy-draining— I much prefer this one.” You look down at yourself, confirming that you’re in the correct form. “I mean, I can turn myself into a cat if you would like. Or an elephant, if you’re really feeling up for it. I would be quite loud, though.” 

You’re not quite sure what humans do or do not know. Usually, summonings are quick and short, usually ending with you feasting on the souls of the summoners or the immediate banishing. But this isn’t the usual summoning; there are no teenage kids screaming for their mothers, nor men wrapped in capes who think they’ve found their calling. 

A clatter draws your attention away from the woman and you find a toddler tucked away in a high chair. The child couldn’t have been more than two years old, teething on a strawberry with the remnants of its breakfast laid out in front of her. An oatmeal-covered spoon is on the ground next to the chair. 

Stepping out from the pentagram, you wave your hand and the spoon flies off the ground and lands on the high chair. The child gurgles in delight, grabbing the spoon and throwing it off yet again. 

“This child seems to lack intelligence,” you observe, spinning back to the woman. “Why would it throw the spoon back down? I thought you humans liked using them.” 

The woman unfreezes with a start and continues putting on her shoes. “W-well, you know how toddlers are, always doing something you don’t want them to.” She adjusts herself before putting a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back in a few hours, it will be a very quick grocery trip. I just need some…peace.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to look after your offspring?” 

“Just for a bit. I’ll be back in a jiffy, alright?” She opens the door and steps out. “There’s food in the fridge for her, diapers are in the drawer under her crib. Just keep her unharmed and alive.” 

And just like that, she’s gone and you’re left with a human baby with a distaste for spoons. You look at the child again in curiosity. Tight, chestnut curls are tied up in two pigtails and her chubby cheeks are stained with strawberry juice. You gently pull at a curl, watching it bounce back into place after you release. 

The child notices this and places your finger into her mouth, gently gnawing on it while cautiously measuring your response. 

“Silly child,” you reprimand gently, pulling your finger back. “That’s not food; if you eat my hand, you’ll get dysentery.”

You snap your fingers and conjure a little black binky for her to gnaw on instead. “Here.” You stuff the binky into the child’s mouth and after a bit of confusion, the toddler starts chewing on it contentedly. 

A smirk crosses your face. “How curious. I wonder what else I could do to you…” 

You sense the presence of another soul before you hear the jingling of keys. They’re inserted into the door, and it opens with a swing. 

“Addie? I’m here— sorry about the wait, the game ran a little long…”

You observe the new figure, a man, clumsily take off his shoes and shove them in the shoe rack. He stumbles towards the living room, dropping a bag off by the couch. 

“Addie?” 

“Are you looking for the child?” you murmur. The man freezes. 

“She’s in her jail,” you continue, floating down from your perch on the ceiling. “I suppose you would call it a crib. The child seemed to grow tired of our games, so I put her to sleep. Temporarily of course— I’m not the reaper.” 

Softly landing on the carpet, you stare at the man’s shocked features, seemingly frozen in time. You tilt your head in confusion. “Well, don’t be too worried. She’ll wake up whenever she feels the need to. I just…coerced her into a nap. It’s not like I can do much else.” 

You extend a hand. “You must be Taehyung. The tired woman mentioned you.” 

Taehyung glanced down at your hand and slowly reached for it. Shaking it, he gulps, “Wh-what? Who?” 

He points from your perch on the ceiling to you. “What?” 

“Oh, that,” you wave towards your previous spot. “I’m just more comfortable that way. It’s usually how I lounge in Erebus but I thought it would make you too uncomfortable to see me like that.”

“Erebus?” He whispers. “Is that like…the underworld?” 

You shrug. “Yes and no. It’s more like another dimension, really,” you say, inspecting his face. “You seem to be sweating. I forgot how temperamental humans are.” 

You chuckle. “It's a little hot in here for you, isn’t it? I tend to run a little warm and the heat might be radiating into the room.”

A bead of sweat drips off Taehyung’s temples and he swipes at it, unfreezing himself. “Oh, I-I guess? I mean, now that you mention it, it’s a little warm.” He shakily looks you up and down. “What are you even? A demon? Oh my God there’s a fucking demon in Adeline’s house…” 

“Ah, so Lily is the child,” you muse. “So Addie— or Adeline, I suppose— must be the mother.” Swooping past Taehyung, you ignore his noises of disbelief. Landing on the kitchen counter, you pour him a glass of water. “She’s in her jail, like I said.”

You beckon a chair to follow you, instructing it to sweep Taehyung into it. He’s pale as a sheet, scrambling onto the chair as he lands in front of you. You hand him the water. “Sip.” 

He obeys, gulping down the water. After he finishes, you take the glass back while he looks at you warily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re not from this world, are you?” 

“No, I’m not. Adeline summoned me to become her babysitter around an hour ago, and she simply left me with her offspring,” you snort. “You humans always do the funniest things.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I mean, hey, good for her for summoning a blank demon— class III nonetheless! Very baby-safe, I can assure you.” 

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “Addie…summoned you?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You chuckle. “At first I was as confused as you are right now, but she quite literally said ‘care for my baby, demon! I will be back’ and left,” you air-quote with your hands. “Said something about being unable to find a babysitter, and I was curious enough about the little one to stay for a while.” 

“So you’re not…stuck here?” 

“Well, no,” you roll your eyes. “I can leave whenever I want. Just how you can leave and enter a door,” you gesture towards the hall, “I can leave and enter this dimension. The summoning just thrusts me here against my will. I can go back whenever I want.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s a bit of a silence as Taehyung collects his thoughts. You listen to the buzz of the refrigerator and the quiet ‘tick-tocks’ of the grandfather clock down the hall; you’re surprised how soothing the monotonous noises are. Maybe the humans are onto something. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, he seemed to relax a little. He fiddles with his hoodie string, gnawing at the end. “Wait so, you won’t hurt us? You said something about being baby-safe.” 

You chuckle. “Yes, I’m very baby-safe. I’m a blank, class III demon. Blank— as in I haven’t developed into a specialty yet— and class III— meaning I’m equipped with the bare minimum of demonic powers.” You shrug. “So yeah, I can do things like make you fly or summon existing objects, but not much else. I’m more of a spirit, really. At least for now.” 

“Huh.” 

Suddenly, you sense a shift in the air and you glance over to the baby monitor on the fridge. Taehyung follows your gaze and jumps up. “Oh, Lily’s awake!” 

He looks over at you, albeit a little warily, and slowly starts walking towards Lily’s room. “Don’t move,” he instructs, pointing a finger at you. “Or else.” 

You put your hands up. “Alright,” you giggle. “How scary!”

Ironic. 

Taehyung glares at you and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few minutes later carrying little Lily in his arm, one hand wiping the drool off of her face. Her eyes light up when she sees you. 

“Puff!” she squeals, reaching for you with two hands. Taehyung holds her back, confused. She’s squirming in his arms, trying to peel away. She whines in annoyance.

You smile. “Yes, child. Puff.” 

A wave of your hand conjures little soot sprites out of the air, the dust bunnies blinking in surprise. The jingle of their movements delight Lily, making her clap as they float down towards her. They scatter around her as she makes attempts to snatch them with her chubby hands. Taehyung keeps her just shy of doing so, though, and it frustrates her. 

“What are they?” he asks, concerned. “Are they your pets or something?”

“They’re soot sprites,” you say softly, waving your hand again and they disappear. Perhaps you should’ve warned Taehyung. “They’re quite harmless, really. Usually residing in abandoned country homes, they’re magical creatures made of soot. They don’t do much but work and exist.” 

Lily wails in dismay as the creatures disappear. You smile apologetically. “I was using them to entertain the child before you got here,” you explain, “which is how she’s so familiar with them. It got her a little dirty, but she seemed to like them enough.” 

“Huh. Cool, I guess.” 

You look over at Taehyung, a little surprised at his reaction. It seems like he’s opening up to some of your antics, which makes you smile a little. 

“Do you mind if I conjure them again?” you ask. “For…Lily.” 

You’re trying to get used to calling the child by her name. 

He nods and places the child on the couch, where you bring the little sprites back. Lily’s eyes widen and she instinctively reaches for them as they float around, surprised once again. 

You and Taehyung both watch her in a comfortable silence, but you can still hear Taehyung’s wheels turning. 

“You know, you can just ask,” you start. 

“Hm?” 

You shrug. “I dunno. It’s not like you see a demon every day, let alone have a demon babysit your niece.” 

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just trying to process it a little, but I’m just glad you aren’t sent here to hurt us.” 

“It’s not like I could if I wanted to, anyway,” you add. “It’s kind of a development-slash-hierarchy thing. Kind of like your version of puberty? Long story.” 

Taehyung’s lips quirk up. “What do you mean?” 

Before you can answer, though, you hear a jingling of keys and the woman from before swings the door open, shuffling her bags in. She looks around, eyes landing on you and Taehyung. 

“Tae!” she exclaims while shutting the door. She turns back to face you two, walking towards the living room. “And…the demon…-ess? Demoness?” 

“Demon is fine,” you affirm. 

She smiles warily and turns her attention to Taehyung and slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” he winces, “what was that for?” 

“That,” she starts, swatting away the sprites and picking up her child, “is for neglecting your babysitting duties which ultimately led me to summon a demon.” 

She glances at you. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“But you summoned her yourself!” he splutters in defense. “Freedom of choice and everything—” 

“Don’t even start,” she interrupts, glaring daggers. 

You whistle. “This woman is scarier than me, Taehyung. I would watch out if I were you.” You glance at Adeline. “No offense.” 

She winces. “None taken.” 

“Well, it looks like my services here aren’t needed anymore,” you clap your hands and the soot sprites disappear. Lily frowns. “Not that it was something I expected, but it was kind of fun.” 

Adeline turns to you and smiles softly. “Thank you for everything— I know it was a bit of an inconvenience, but I’m very glad that it turned out how it did. Please come back anytime you want.” 

You laugh. “I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on your offer— I have a lot of training to do back in Erebus— but thank you anyway. Your offspring, Lily, was quite enjoyable.” 

You wave to little Lily— who waves back— and you start walking towards the door for a more “natural” approach to leaving. 

“Wait, hold on.”

You turn around and Taehyung catches up to you. “Are you never coming back?” 

You shrug. “Unless there’s another summoning or if I have a personal reason to. Summonings are tricky, though, it’s a gamble on which demon you’ll get. It runs on an internal lottery system for all demons, so I wouldn’t bet on your chances.” 

He deflates. “Ah.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me, maybe you won’t.” You smile. “It was nice knowing you, though. I’ve learned more about humans today than I ever had at the academy.” 

Taehyung furrows his brows in confusion, but before he has a chance to say anything, you’ve snapped your fingers and disappeared. 

Like before, you let the winds whisk you back to Erebus and you enter with a pop, feet landing on the soft carpet of your room. Glancing at the window, you notice the blood moon starting to rise and your roommate stirs in her sleep. 

Interesting, you think, shaking your head as your horns grow back. You touch them to make sure they’ve come out properly and your wings also make an appearance, the dainty gossamer erupting from your back as you stretch. 

A sigh of relief leaves you as you settle into your own bed, thinking back at what happened. You’ll surely have to go to the Dean tomorrow to explain your absence, but it shouldn’t be something you’re punished for. These summonings are growing more common so quite a few students have been missing this week—  but it’s not something the administration is worried about…yet. 

You roll over to your side, remembering the look on the woman’s face. She was calm for a human— too calm maybe— when she summoned you. Grumbling in confusion, you think. Maybe they’re getting too comfortable with contacting the demonic dimension. 

But you fondly remember how Taehyung’s reaction was much more standard, and you chuckle recalling his sheer fright at the concept of Erebus.

He almost reminded you of a puppy. 

“How cute,” you murmur. 

Yawning, you make a mental note to go to the mortal realm more often. It could do you some good. 

Eyes heavy, you close them and everything goes black.  

[bumblebeehug]

Happy and or one of the celestial spirits babysitting Nasha while natsu and Lucy are out on a job

Urgh I had written the longest answer to this with this huge scenario of every spirit coming to help Happy in his baby-sitting job, but ofc Tumblr deleted it mid sentence🙄 it went something like this:

Natsu Happy and Lucy go on a mission, plans to have Gemini-Lucy be the babysitter. Lucy gets mom-nerves last minute and makes sure that Happy stays behind (he still gets his share of the reward + he thinks it’ll be an easy job taking care of Nasha, so he gladly oblige)

Gemini and Happy are hopeless. Nasha won’t stop crying: H convinces G to switch places with Aries I’m hope that she’ll calm Nasha down. It only works for like 20 minutes, then her throat opens wide in cries again. Aries switches places with Loke who manages to figure out that they should change diapers on Nasha — yay! She’s still not happy though, Loke switches back to G (he wants to be on call for Lucy too).

Then Nasha starts rummaging around the apartment. It’s supposed to be child safe, but it’s more Natsu-safe. Nasha figures out the child locks, and in panic G calls for backup. First Lyra (she doesn’t get that they’re trying to calm Nasha down, so she plays an upbeat melody — no help), then Capricorn (he gets So Awkward with children that Happy has to face palm). Scorpio gives it a try — he just scares Nasha. Cancer enters but leaves as fast as he came (scissors and kids don’t work well together). Taurus comes in a clutch and gives Nasha a warm cup of milk (except she won’t take it from Taurus bc he’s scary — the milk helps calm her nerves though). Pyxis and Plue tries their best to entertain her, but quickly give up since she’s too shy to show appreciation. Meanwhile Virgo and Leo come in and do the occasional diaper change, but staying as much as the celestial world as possible so they can be by Lucy’s side when she needs them.

Happy and Gemini are sweating. Crux has been doing research about kids in the celestial world, but fell asleep before figuring anything out.

Happy calls out for Horologium in desperation. Turns out Nasha loves Horologium to death and sleeps her very best inside of him. Peace, finally. Happy goes to wash his face in the sink — in enters Aquarius, finally! Except she’s seething in anger about the spirits’ reckless treatment of Nasha. Why are they letting a child sleep in a clock? Insanity, she mutters.

Aquarius is GOOD at keeping an eye on kids. She managed Lucy, and she’ll manage Nasha too. Nasha absolutely adores Aquarius — like mother like daughter after all. One day, Nasha will get to summon Aquarius herself, and Aquarius will feel honoured to be in the hands of another kid with the Heartfilia bloodline.

[6esiree]

𝟐.𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫!

Before I set up this contest, I knew that deciding to pick a winner would not come so easily, especially considering that the people in this lovely community are skilled writers with creative minds that I admittedly envy. Still, I never anticipated the amount of time I’d spend going back and forth between the two stories I eventually narrowed it down to, rereading them, jotting down what I loved about them, and all while trying to stave off the idea of disappointing anybody. Sorry, I’m an overthinker.

Again, I really enjoyed each and every story that was submitted. I don’t care if I’m doing too much by adding this next part, but I’ve been in this community for quite some time already, and though I have not formed any deep connections, I can say with an overwhelming amount of confidence that everyone here is amazing. Seriously. Mutuals or not, your kindness, your passion, your dedication, and many more wonderfully admirable and unique traits you hold, they—you—are the reason why I’m still here.

I don’t think I’ll ever summon up the courage to befriend anybody. It’s intimidating starting something new, but that’s okay. The mere knowledge that I’ve positively interacted with such wonderful people through likes, comments, and reblogs is enough to satisfy me. I wasn’t that confident about my writing—and I’m still not—yet I decided to give tumblr a try, to distract myself, to make me feel better, and it was the best decision I had ever made. Life is tough again, but it’s okay. I’ll push through, like I always do.

Anyway, let me push the sappy shit aside and finally say that I decided that @xalygatorx’s fic has ensnared my heart. When I reread it, I found myself just as absorbed and profoundly affected by her writing style, the personally flawless manner in which she executed a prompt I had admittedly forgotten about, like the first time I read it. It’s always satisfying when a character is captured so well, especially one as complicated as Alastor, but God, the entire story was just phenomenal.

Unfortunately, my poor brain is spent from all the energy I’ve put in as of late in researching and writing my final projects for two different classes, so I don’t have the ability to delve into or outline each and every little detail I enjoyed. It would take me a while to do that. Nevertheless, I hope with even the simplicity of my statement that anybody who reads this understands that this decision did not come easily. There’s too much talent in one place—it’s overwhelming, but in a good way. That just means that the Hazbin community is blessed!

[whumped-by-glitter]

Chapter 1, Part 2: The Slave Quarters

⚠️CW: Institutionalized slavery, degradation, dehumanization, objectification, emotional whump, blood/licking blood, food whump (starvation/poisoning), sadistic whumper, cold calculating whumper, multiple whumper, sensory deprivation, fantasy whump, Bullying.

As always, a HUGE shout out to my tumblr bestie and beta reader @3-2-whump.

Story under the cut

⏮️ Previous

None of the other slaves were up yet, so the mutt moved silently so as not to wake them.  Quickly, he got dressed in the tattered clothes he was allotted. At least they were a slight improvement against the autumn cold over the thin shorts they were given for sleep. He grabbed a candle from a shelf under the non-glassed window headed to the tiny bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. He lit the candle after closing the door and began straightening himself up for the day. He ran a brush through his unkempt hair, taming it only marginally, then washed his face with cold water.

Everything was always so cold, he tried to summon his dream and imagine the warm hands again, but unfortunately the leftover sensations were fading fast. To be honest so was his hope of feeling them again. That day was almost 5 years ago now, and he’d never felt them since. Realistically they probably had decided they didn’t want him. He wouldn’t blame them. He was stunted- not as strong or as tall as other Drar. His body also held on to injuries. Unlike the others with smooth, perfect skin, his body was marred by every mistake he had ever made, a lattice work of layered scars. He couldn’t possibly be good enough for that warmth.

Once the mutt was reasonably presentable, he settled down at the desk to study until his master unlocked the door to the building they were kept in at night.

He was supposed to study whenever he wasn’t actively being used. His master expected him to memorize everything about the poisons he was forced to consume and there was around a hundred of them in all, so it was a constant process.

After about an hour or so, he other slaves started to wake, some earlier than others.

“Reading again?” one of them scoffed, pulling the book out from under Dog. No surprise, it was Zan, someone Dog had never gotten along with. “Why do you get to know how to read but we don’t? What makes you so special?”

Zan was an owned slave that was brought to Master for training. He was the only one that actually wore brass bands, signifying he was owned by a commoner. The rest that were called brass bands actually wore silver like him, they were being trained for brass roles though and thus referred to as such.

The dog grabbed the book back without a word. Corvius would skin him if any damage came to it. It was very rare and very old, containing information on every known poison in not only Tallis, but all of Devros.

“Oh right, I forgot, you aren’t allowed to talk to the rest of us,” Zan sneered. “You’re too good for us humble brass bands. Better than us.”

Better? Hardly. Dog kept his gaze on the floor. He knew looking the other slave in the eyes would cause punishment from the metal around his neck and limbs. It was true. He was forbidden from speaking, or making any noise really, from evening to morning. The rule was depressing enough without it being rubbed in. He longed for the warmth the rest of them had in the evening, laughing and telling stories. Corvius said he didn’t want the slave distracted and that he needed to spend his time off studying. He took a breath, conjuring the comforting scent of his future master once again. ‘It’s all for them,’ he reminded himself. Even as he told himself this, he knew he should give up on the idea, though.

“Why is it you are so special? Huh? Why do you get to learn to read while the rest of work hard all day?” Zan spat.

Dog didn’t respond, he couldn’t, if he made a sound the silver bands of metal around his neck and limbs would make it feel like electricity ripping through his body. He wanted too, though. He deeply wished he could talk and joke with the rest of them. Being a slave was hard, but being alone was so much harder.

Dog would much rather be working with the rest of them than studying what the poisons he was forced to take were doing to his body. The other slaves had friendship and comradery; Dog had nothing. ‘What do you want from me, I don’t even have a name,’ he thought pitifully. His only consolation was the gentle thrumming warmth his bands sent through his body for resisting the impulse to speak. A reward for obeying Corvius’ order of silence. The warmth he always pictured a hug to have. Though he’d never had one, he desperately wanted one, they looked so warm.

Smack! A loud sound echoed off the stone walls. Dog’s head violently whipped to the side with the force of the other Drar’s blow.

Zan laughed loudly, “Not going to do anything about it are you little cur? You never do. You can’t even look me in the eye.”

Dog continued to look at the floor, his face still turned to the side. The other Slave was right, he had no intention of defending himself.

“Pathetic,” Zan spat, “You are an embarrassment.”

Zan’s loudmouth drew attention of other slaves, and Dog could feel eyes on him.

“Zan! Knock it off. He has a hard enough time without you adding to it,” Ruby cut in, scolding her fellow brass band. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready before you’re late anyway?”

“Oh, screw you, as if I need you to tell me what to do,” Zan mumbled in response, walking off.

Ruby gently ruffled Dog’s hair, causing him to involuntarily lean into her soft touch, savoring it. Her voice was gentle, “Please don’t take his words to heart. It's just……” she paused, her voice going soft. “It's just, he’s just afraid of becoming you, we all are to be honest.” He could feel her concerned gaze on him, before she walked off to get ready herself.

The dog kept his usual neutral expression on his face. He didn’t blame them, if he had the choice, he wouldn’t want to be him either. Broken, personality stomped out, body ruined by poison, none of it was wanted.

@whumperofworlds, @skittles-the-whumpee, @whumpsandbumps, @wounds-seen-and-unseen, @generic-whumperz

@emptycalories-splitlip, @pigeonwhumps, @i-eat-worlds

As always, if you would like to be added to my tag list or I forgot to properly flag something, please just let me know!

Master List

Next ⏭️

[kizudnyy]

CRIMSON RAVEN p1

Fumikage Tokoyami's aunt!Y/N

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This will be a series, i think.. (Im only posting this on tumblr bc i still cant make up a title and description so the temporary title will be "CRIMSON RED" Ig???ALSO I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT COLORS OMGGG !!

INFORMATION: Y/N Tokoyami (Current), an honourable 25-year-old woman who has been in the singing industry for 9 years and very well known amongst the American Pro Heroes, decides to go reside in Japan, Musutafu after her failed marriage with someone (not important) at age 19 and had to suffer abuse and loosing her child at the age of 20, summoning the courage to leave her husband at the age of 22 . This time, Y/N decides to look for a better future at Japan after being targeted by villains, she discovers Keiko, a young boy with broken wings, whom she legally adopts and a certain avian pro-hero who catches her interest.

(Side-eyes you intensively.)

CHAPTER 1: Red wing black birds are are pretty cool too!

Y/N Tokoyami stood on the balcony of her newly rented apartment, gazing out the bustling streets of Musutafu. The city lights twinkled like stars in the night sky, a sight that brought a sense of calm to her troubled heart. It had been a long journey from America, a journey marked with pain and loss, but now, here in japan, she hoped to find peace and a fresh start.

As she turned to retreat into her apartment, a faint of rustling sound caught her attention. Frowning, she glanced towards the source of the noise and froze. There, on her floor ─ was a heavily injured man with feathery, ashy, and unkept blond hair with a pair of a vermillion wings. The winged man kneeled on the ground as he clenched on his abdomen, possibly from a serious injury located there.

Y/N couldn't help but feel sympathy for the unknown man, her heart clenched as she approached him. "Um, hello?" she said gently, her wings fluttering behind her as she crouched down to meet his level. "Are you.. okay?"

The winged man flinched at her voice as he turned around to be met with a pair of red and bloodshot eyes, staring directly at him competently. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to barge in your.. apartment ─ Fuck!" He hissed out in pain as his pair of wings rustled once more.

Y/N sighed, her eyes shifting to his wings, noticing. It is a bit damaged and hung limply at both of their sides, still shaking intensively as it flapped slowly. "I'll- be back." She abruptly spoke, turning around, looking at the winged figure before she ran inside.

Y/N hurried into her apartment, her heart pounding with concern for the injured man outside. She rummaged through her shelves, searching for anything that could help alleviate his pain and tend to his injuries. After a few seconds, she managed to find a first aid kit tucked away deeper within, it took her quite a while due to how it was safely stored. Still, she managed to obtain the kit when she grabbed the handle.

She rushed back outside and kneeled at the winged man's side, Y/N carefully opened the first aid kit and began to assess the extent of his injuries. The man winced in pain as he probed at his abdomen, his breathing coming in ragged gasps as he clenched his fists while staring at the other with the lack of any emotion besides pain.

Y/N noticed the intensifying atmosphere around them as she tendered on the wounds. "It's going to be okay," she murmured softly, her voice laced with reassurance as she faced him "I don't care what happened here, I'm going to take care of you."

The man's eyes widened in surprise at her words, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude shining in their depts. "Thank you" He said whispered hoarsely, his voice barely a whisper due to the blasting noises from the city.

Y/N offered him a small smile as she continued to tend to his injuries, her hands moving swiftly before pausing, her face reddening as she faced the stranger. "C-can I cut your shirt?" she uttered, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I need to-" Her words trailed off as she realized the intimate nature of her request, her hands swiftly making their way to her face to hide her flushed cheeks.

"Your blood is mixed in with the... fabric," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I-I need to wrap this bandage to stop the bleeding."

The heavy silence lingered, awkward and palpable, wrapping around Y/N like a suffocating blanket. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, betraying her embarrassment. Meanwhile, the stranger's gaze seemed to bore into her, making her squirm under its intensity.

Finally, breaking the tension, the stranger blinked and coughed, as if suddenly aware of the discomfort they both shared. With a nod, he tried to diffuse the situation. "Yeah, sure." He said, offering a casual agreement. "I mean- your the pretty nurse here. You can do anything with me." He chuckled, adding a slick remark which left Y/N completely destroyed and filled with embarrassment

Y/N's heart sank as the stranger's words as a rush of heat flooded her cheeks, her embarrassment now reaching a new peak. She felt her confidence crumbling beneath the weight of the stranger's slick remark, his smirk only adding insult to injury.

"I'm serious..." She whispered, her head facing sideways as she tries to hide herself from the stranger. "I- you know what? I'm just gonna ignore you and focus."

Y/N's whispered response carried a hint of vulnerability, her attempt to shield herself from the stranger's gaze evident in her turned head. The sting of his words lingered, casting a shadow over the interaction as she struggled to regain her composure.

With a quiet determination, she resolved to push past the discomfort, her voice wavering slightly as she made her intentions clear. "I'm serious..." she repeated softly, her resolve firm despite the lingering unease. Turning her attention away from the stranger, Y/N focused on the task at hand, carefully scissoring around the freshly healed wounds as she took a compression bandage and carefully circling it around the strangers waist.

As she finished tending to the stranger's needs, Y/N shifted her head, her gaze steady as she met his eyes once more. Though the discomfort still lingered, she refused to it rush pass her mind and sighed, "There you go," She said tirelessly, her hands still on the strangers waist before pulling back. "Feelin' okay?"

The stranger's response was slow in coming, his gaze shifting slightly as he considered Y/N's question. After a moment of silence, he offered a faint nod, his expression softening. "Yeah, I'm alright," he replied, his voice quieter than before. There was a hint of sincerity in his tone, a recognition perhaps of the impact of his earlier remark. Y/N nodded in acknowledgment, a small flicker of relief crossing her features.

With a subtle nod, she took a step back, giving him some space. "If you ever need anything, just call me," As she turned her head, she realized something VERY important and turned to face the winged man once more. "Do you have anyone I could contact to? A close relative or friend, perhaps?"

The stranger's intense gaze sent a shiver down her spine as he spoke urgently, "Uhh... yeah, can you call my agency? Tell them I need help."

His mention of an "agency" piqued her curiosity, especially paired with the possessive "my." She couldn't help but wonder, "Agency? My? What do you mean?" Her confusion was evident as she raised her brows, waiting for an explanation. The stranger's expression shifted to one of shock as he clarified, "If you meant like a business agency or some store agency-sure, just give me some time. Just know ruthless some of them are, especially with a rando like me!"

"No, not a 'business' or some kind of agency," he insisted, his tone urgent. "Hero agency. You know, like the Hawks Agency?" His words hung in the air.

'Hero?' Her mind raced with possibilities. Hero agency? Was he implying he was a Pro- hero? The notion seemed absurd, like something so unpredictable, not much of a re-occuring event but still possible. Yet, his urgency and the intensity in his gaze made her pause, considering the possibility that he might be serious.

"You're saying you're... a Pro-hero?" she asked incredulously, her skepticism evident in her tone. The stranger nodded slowly, making it seem like he is 'shocked' as well.

"I'm a pro hero.. yeah─ I'm sure you must've heard of me, at least once.." She hesitated, unsure whether to believe him or dismiss his claim as delusion.

"Look, I'm sorry for disrespecting you in any way but I really don't know you nor' believe that you are some kind of pro-hero." She paused. "In my defense! I'm new to Japan and haven't yet adjusted to the Hero Ranking. So sorry if I managed to insult you because, frankly, there's no rule that we all should know about each and every heroes!".

The stranger's expression softened slightly at Y/N's outburst, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry for assuming. I'm not much of a bad guy in first impressions.." He muttered softly, gaze still fixated on Y/N.

"I guess not everyone knows every hero, especially if you're new here." Y/N nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders at his understanding. She glanced down at her hands, fidgeting nervously as she contemplated her next words.

"So, um, if you don't mind me asking..." she began tentatively, "who are you? I mean, what's your hero name?" The stranger hesitated for a moment before answering, as if deliberating over his response.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. "I go by the name Hawks," he said, his eyes meeting Y/N's with a sense of gravity. "I'm much known for my red wings- Which is one of the reasons that got me shocked when you questioned about me being a pro hero. I rarely get reactions like that and all."

"Seriously?" She couldn't help but laugh at his given statement. "In my country, there's like two or three pro heroes who have the similar yet totally amazing-than-yours wings. Not to mention your name which is kinda misleading.. I'd say your much of a red wing black bird, but it might just be me."

Hawks chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, I can't argue with that comparison. Red-winged blackbirds are pretty cool creatures too, I guess. But hey, being a bit misleading keeps people on their toes, right?" He flashed a playful grin (to hide off his pride slowly crumbling into ashes. A-hah!)

Y/N sighed, her tone conceding, "I suppose that's a valid point."

Hawks's smile faltered momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure, his gaze meeting hers with a silent understanding. "So," His voice suddenly faltered as he realized his whole situation. "Thank you for helping me today. I could've lost a lot of blood before I could contact the agency. "

"Oh, It's nothing. Although I find it very unfortunate and stressing that I have blood on my balcony right now. You should totally fix that up before anyone finds about it and suspects me of a murderer," She grinned, "Which I am not and will never be. So, I really hope that you tell off your 'agency' to clean up your mess...or just you, because I damn mind my reputation, right now!"

"Well, I would certainly do that." He chuckled, His wings fluttered gently and evenly due to a few minor injuries on his left wing.

"You better be-" Y/N paused, noticing the difference on his wings, well to be specific, the movement of his wings which caused her to raise a brow. "Is your left wing usually like that? Always shaky and shit... Or is it just because of your fallout earlier?" She questioned, arms folding on her chest as she sat beside him.

Hawks hummed, "I lost balance after a heavy blow with a winged-villain. I don't know what they just did, but it certainly gave me a huge load of pain in my main and left wing," He sighed, "Still experiencing the excruciating pain, by the way."

Y/N nodded sympathetically, her expression reflecting concern for Hawks' well-being. "I see. Well, can you tell me your phone number so that I can contact them?" She reached out her phone from her pockets as she waited for his response.

"Uh yeah," he resumed. "Its (--), Just tell them about my situation and where am I, currently." He added

Y/N nodded, quickly entering Hawks' phone number into her contacts. "Got it. I'll make sure to let them know about your situation and whereabouts," she assured him, her fingers typing swiftly on her phone screen.

Once she had saved the number, she glanced back up at Hawks with a reassuring smile. "I'll give them a call right away." She assured.

With that, Y/N immiedtly dialled the number and held the phone on her, patiently waiting as it rang. After a few moments, someone picked up on the other end, which caused Y/N to feel a sense of relief washed over her.

"Hello?" She greeted.

She glanced towards Hawks before launching into an explanation with his situation, emphasizing the urgency of the matter. She provided the necessary details, including their current location ─ which was her apartment on room 342, before concluding the call with a sense of relief.

"Um, yes, uh-huh." She said before shifting her head to face hawks. " Alrighty! They're sending someone to pick you up." She informed as she tucked her phone back into her pocket. "You should be in good hands soon."

Hawks nodded gratefully, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Thank you," he paused. "I haven't really gotten your name.." He questioned.

Y/N blinked a few times before responding, "Uh─ yeah! My name is Y/N, you can call me whatever you like."

Hawks beamed, "Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate your help."

Y/N chuckled, waving off his thanks as she smiled. " It's no problem at all. I'm just glad I could be of assistance."

-Word Count: 2200+ (no a/n)

MASTERLIST

[carelisswriting]

I wrote something based off a prompt by @epkot94 https://at.tumblr.com/epkot94/dp-x-dc-idea-time-so-eventually-danny-tells-jazz/8wbwdhtc71pm

 I hope y’all like this, this is the first bit of my writing I’m posting on Tumblr! I also crossposted this on Ao3, which is https://archiveofourown.org/works/45308998 

Btw, I adore @proshipper-on-ship and @kine-iende thinking of Dan calling Danny ‘Mom’, so that’s in here too!

EDIT: @lenacraft drew some amazing fan art of the Phantom royal family here! https://at.tumblr.com/lenacraft/im-still-trying-to-figure-out-how-i-wanna/u0n7lg2g8eo9

---

Dan liked being one of the ‘good guys’, don’t get him wrong. He enjoyed saving people, and being seen as a superhero. What he didn’t like was being on a team.

Oh he could work with them just fine, but Ancients did they get on his nerves. Superman constantly checking in on him, Batman trying to figure out his identity (he didn’t have one in this universe anyway, take that asshole), Flash trying to befriend him. All in all, Dan was not a fan of his coworkers. (Ellie insisted that he secretly liked them, but she was wrong and also being very annoying about it.)

They were being particularly annoying today. Flash hadn’t stopped talking for the last 20 minutes. They were all in the main meeting room, for some sort of meeting. Honestly, Dan hadn’t been paying attention, so he had no clue why they were all here. Batman was droning on at the front of the room, something about a cult? Dan had no clue, and really didn’t care enough to listen.

He was idly tossing his thermos (which he still hadn’t told the Justice League the purpose of) back and forth when John Constantine burst into the room.

“We’ve got a problem.” He said, slightly out of breath.

Everyone had stopped talking when he burst in, turning to stare at the man. Batman sighed, before asking “What is it?”

Constantine came up to the table they were all sat around, setting down an ancient looking book across the table from Dan. He noticed that the title was in something similar to Ghostspeak. Interesting. He wasn’t gonna tell any of his coworkers about it, though. They all thought he was an alien, which technically he was, and it would be suspicious for him to know some random magical language, even vaguely.

“Someone is summoning powerful entities from a dimension parallel to ours, using this book.” Constantine said, gesturing to the book “I brought my copy, but I don’t know how to stop these beings.”

“Why?” Batman grunted out the question, already flipping through the old book.

Constantine sighed aggressively, pulling out a cigarette. He lit it, before answering sarcastically “I don’t know, maybe because they’re significantly more powerful than most beings from this dimension? Maybe because they have an insane set of abilities?”

Batman grunted in acknowledgement, turning back to the book.

A few moments passed, before everyone started talking, shouting questions over each other. Dan sighed. This was going to be a long day.

\(oo)/

A few hours passed, everyone still trying to figure out what the hell to do. Well, almost everyone. Dan had long since given up on planning, playing a game on his phone under the table. It wasn’t like anything could actually be a threat to him, and if it was? He’d just call Danny. He’d prefer if his coworkers figured something out, however, so he hadn’t bothered telling them about the fact that he could probably deal with whatever this was in a snap. If they still hadn’t figured anything out in the next hour, he’d deal with it.

Wonder Woman looked up from the book Constantine had summoned for her to read through, hoping it had answers.

“Where are these entities from? You didn’t say what dimension it was.” She asked.

Dan realized that no one had thought to ask that anytime in the last few hours. Seriously? He knew that most of his coworkers were stupid when it came to magic and stuff like it, but seriously? He slipped his phone back into his pocket, wanting to see where this was going.

Constantine glanced up from where he was studying a leatherbound tome. Dan couldn’t see what it was about from here, but he bet it was unhelpful, considering how much Constantine had been glaring at it over the last few minutes.

“The Infinite Realms. It’s an extremely dangerous dimension, home to the dead.” Constantine answered, his tone grim.

Dan couldn’t help it. He chuckled. His coworkers looked at him like he was insane, which only caused him to laugh harder. He bent over the table, laughing.

“Something funny, Phantom?” Batman asked, glaring at him.

(Dan had stolen Danny’s superhero name, it was his first anyway. And besides, everyone found it hilarious, including Danny.)

Dan theatrically wiped a tear from his eye before replying “Yeah, it’s so damn funny that he said that with a straight face. I mean, c’mon, ‘extremely dangerous’? Maybe if you’re an idiot.”

Superman raised an eyebrow at Dan, before exchanging a look with Batman.

“Have you been to these ‘Infinite Realms’?” Superman asked, voice calm.

Dan snorted “Yeah, of course. Ancients, if the problem’s just some guy summoning ghosts, I’m just gonna call my mom.” Dan could deal with it himself, but where was the fun in that?

He pulled out his phone again, dialing Danny’s number. The ‘mom’ thing had started as a joke, but honestly? It fit Danny so well, and Ellie already called him that, so why shouldn’t Dan?

“Why are you-“ Flash asked, before being cut off by Batman.

Batman glared at Dan “What are you doing.” He asked flatly.

Dan laughed, waiting for Danny to pick up.

“Calling my mom, duh.”

Batman gave an aggravated sigh, and went to speak.

Danny picked up, and Dan immediately started talking, cutting off whatever Batman was about to say.

“Hey, so, apparently some asshole is summoning ghosts and causing problems over here. Thought I’d have you deal with it.” Dan said, explaining quickly. The Justice League stared at him, shocked and very confused. Dan hadn’t told them anything about his family, so their reactions were pretty justified.

Danny sighed “Not even gonna say hello?”

Dan sarcastically cut him off “Hello!”

Danny sighed again, but Dan could tell he was amused. They shared a sense of humor, Ellie had the same one too. Perks of being a clone/evil future self and their original/past self (Their relationships were all kinds of funky, but it worked for them.)

“You said someone is summoning ghosts? I’ll be there in a sec.” Danny said, before hanging up.

Dan put his phone away, finally glancing at his coworkers. They all looked extremely confused, except Batman who was fuming, and Constantine who looked wary.  

“Who was that?” Batman growled.

Dan looked at him, the picture of innocent confusion.

“I already told you, my mom. He’ll be here in a moment.”

Dan could see Flash mouthing ‘he?’ to himself a few seats away. Dan relished in the sense of confusion he was causing. It was extremely funny watching his coworkers flounder in the face of Dan’s sheer chaos.

Constantine took a moment to speak “I don’t think-“

He was cut off as a green portal opened up in the middle of the room, above the table. Everyone, excluding Dan, went still as it appeared.

“What the-“ Superman started to say, as Batman pulled out a weapon. They were both startled by a white and black blur flying out of the portal and attaching itself to Dan.

Dan was knocked out of his seat as Ellie bowled him over. He tumbled down to the floor, falling flat on his back. Ellie grinned at him, sitting on his chest.

“Got you!” she gleefully yelled out. Dan chuckled, gently shoving her off him. He sat up, and was greeted with his coworkers, who all looked ready for a fight. Their faces switched to confusion when Dan just blankly stared at them.

“What’s up?” He said, slightly sarcastically.

Ellie floated into the air, hanging upside down in front of Dan.

“Well, you were just tackled by someone they don’t know.” She pointed out, a grin on her face.

Dan sighed, gesturing to Ellie “Please meet my little sister, Ellie. She’s an annoyance.”

Ellie smacked him on the shoulder, before flipping around so that she was facing the Justice League, and also so that she was right side up.

“Hi! It’s nice to finally meet Dan’s friends!” She said, darting away when Dan attempted to hit her.

“They’re not my friends! We’re coworkers!” he shouted as she flew to the corner of the room, sticking her tongue out at him.

He sighed, before looking at his coworkers. Most of them were still stuck in a state of confusion, and Flash hesitantly asked “I thought your mom was coming?”

“Oh yeah.” Dan said, before yelling over to Ellie “Where the hell is Mom?”

Ellie floated closer “He was right behind me, so-“

The portal, which had slipped the Justice League’s minds when faced with the chaos that is Ellie, sparked as Danny stepped out, before it flickered out of existence.

Immediately, the aura of Danny’s power settled over the room. Being the King of the Infinite Realms afforded someone a lot of power, and death magic always affected people more than other magics. Also, the crown, ring, and cape made him look very intimidating. Combine that with his imposing stature (inherited from Jack) and he was downright terrifying. It was a comforting thing to Dan, who was used to Danny’s powerful presence. To the Justice League, however, it felt like the Grim Reaper himself had just come for the souls.

Danny looked around, spotting Ellie floating up above the table.

“Ellie, I told you not to scare them! We want to make a good impression.” He said, Ellie immediately darting down to stand next to him.  

“Sorry Mom, I just wanted to say hi!” Ellie defended.

Danny sighed, ruffling her hair.

The Justice League looked so confused. Constantine looked like he was about to throw up.

“That’s… King Phantom.” Constantine said, shocked, before he scrambled to stand in front of the Justice League.

“We didn’t mean to offend, I swear-“ Constantine started, before Danny cut him off.

“Dude, it’s fine. I just came cause Dan asked.” Danny said with a chuckle, slightly uncomfortable. He had gotten better at the formalities that came with kingship, but he still wasn’t that comfortable when people begged for his mercy, understandably.

It seemed to hit everyone then. That this terrifying man, and king, was who Dan had been referring to when he said ‘Mom’.

While his coworkers processed his chaotic family, Dan floated over them to stand next to his mom.

Danny smiled, ruffling Dan’s hair. They were almost the same height now, so Danny didn’t even have to stretch to reach it.

“How have you been? I know we talk everyday, but it’s not the same as seeing you in person.” Danny said, a soft smile on his face.

“I’ve been fine, Mom. It’s nice, helping people.” Dan replied.

Danny beamed at him “I’m happy it’s working out!”

“Yeah, and you haven’t even tried to kill someone!” Ellie cut in, a smirk on her face.

Dan reached out automatically to swat at her, but she dodged.

The Justice League seemed to snap out of their shock.

They are started to talk at once, before Batman yelled “Quiet!” over top of the noise.

“I believe introductions are in order.” He said, before muttering under his breath “especially as they’re some sort of royalty.”

Dan hadn’t told them about his enhanced hearing, so Batman had no way of knowing that the three ghosts could hear him perfectly. Dan and Ellie shared a smirk at how done the man sounded with them.

Danny clapped his hands, startling some of Dan’s coworkers.

“Yes, you are correct! Danny Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, at your service!” Danny said cheerily.

Ellie spoke next “Ellie Phantom, Princess of the Infinite Realms.”

They both looked expectantly at Dan, who sighed.

“Dan Phantom, Prince of the Infinite Realms.”

Technically, he was also sort of the king, but it had been a different Infinite Realms that he conquered, so this one had decided he was a prince. He was fine with it, honestly being King sounded annoying.

Predictably, that led to another outcry from his coworkers. Constantine looked like he was having a mental breakdown.

When they had settled down, Superman asked “You’re a prince?”

Flash chimed in “Also, your superhero name is just your last name?”

“You’re the prince of the Infinite Realms. The place the entities are from?” Wonder Woman added.

Dan rolled his eyes at the questions, before looking at Danny pleadingly. Danny sighed, but answered the questions for him.

“Yes, we are the royal family of the Infinite Realms. And the beings there are called ‘ghosts’, by the way. Also, Flash, it was a superhero name before it was a last name.”

If anything, that answer made Flash even more confused.

Ellie stuck out her tongue at Dan “If you just told them about us, you wouldn’t have to deal with all these questions!” she sang out.

Dan groaned “Can you stop it for two seconds?”

“Nope!”

“I swear to the Ancients, I’m gonna-“

“Settle down, you two.” Danny cut in, stopping the argument.

Dan and Ellie gave him matching pouts. They loved arguing with each other over nothing, it was fun.

Danny sighed, before turning back to the Justice League.

“So, Dan said that you’ve got a ghost problem?”

Batman stepped forward.

“Yes. Someone is summoning ‘ghosts’ into our world and causing havoc. Constantine doesn’t know who, but they need to be stopped.”

Danny closed his eyes for a moment.

“Okay, got it. Some asshole in Central City.”

Constantine startled “How do you know where he is? I couldn’t find him, even with my most powerful tracking spells!” He shouted, before a look of immediate regret came over his face. He probably just remembered that he was yelling at a death god, or close to one.

Danny dropped his smile, his eyes going blank. His presence seemed to double, a crushing sense of doom coming over the room. Constantine realized just how much he screwed up.

“The Realms is connected to all, especially those who are going to die shortly.” He said, flatly.

Dan chuckled slightly at Danny’s scary act, sharing an eyeroll with Ellie. Danny tried so hard to be intimidating, and it never really worked.

(Meanwhile, the entire Justice League is trying not to faint. Constantine really needs a drink.)

Superman shook it off first, asking “Going to die shortly? Are you going to kill him?” his voice pitched down at the end, trying to sound threatening.

Danny laughed, the crushing aura receding “No, of course not!”

Superman nodded, relieved.

“I’m just not gonna stop the others from doing it!” Danny continued.

Immediately, the mood of the room plummeted.

“What do you mean?” Batman asked.

Danny gave them a sharp smile, Ellie and Dan mirroring it on either side.

“He is enslaving my people, Batman. I’m sure they’ll want justice for that.”

Danny turned, opening another portal above the table.

“I’ll go deal with the asshole. Ellie, Dan, let’s go.” Danny said, smiling at them.

Ellie patted Dan on the head, before darting through the portal.

Dan looked out at the Justice League.

“I’ll be back in a bit, don’t wait up.” He said. He was definitely going to take advantage of his family coming to visit him, he wanted to hang out with them a bit. Maybe show them Gotham? He knew Danny and Ellie would get a kick out of it.

With that, Dan walked into the portal.

Danny surveyed the Justice League for a moment.

“Thank you for helping Dan. Don’t be too annoying to him over all this, okay?” His words were light, but his tone was anything but.

Batman nodded seriously.

Danny smiled, stepping through the portal to go keep his kids from getting into too much trouble.

(Constantine looked seriously at Batman “Don’t call me for the next week, I need to get drunk. To deal with all…that.”)

 ---

Tag List! 

@seraphinedemort @ever-changing-weirdo-3100 @thewondersoflebanon @botwadtict @akikkobara @sailor-goddess @dontfightmecauseillcry 

[vaguelyapeanutbutterandjelly]

This isn't over, I hope you know.

Price x Male Reader Requested: Yes! But there were some technical issues. Pt 1 (Here! :])/ ??? Warnings: Break-up, Argument, Angsty angst angst A/N: *Drops this and scuttles away* This was intended to be longer but I'm cutting it in half to see if Tumblr will actually let me post it. If it does the 2nd-supposed-to-be-this-part will be out soon after :]

"Look, [Name], I get you need attention-" John started, following your pacing form as you quickly walked back and fourth in his office. Whipping your head to meet Johns gaze dead on. Your eyebrows raised as you stalled for a second. Jaw dropping as you quickly caught up with what he said, your blood boiling with nothing put resentment and frustration, "Attention? Atten-" Taking a deep breath you summoned all you had to just keep yourself from yelling. This was something that stayed between you, and him. "John when was the last time we slept in the same bed? Hmm?" You snarled, arms uncrossing so you could use them to accentuate your point. Anything to try and convey your anger to him, to somehow shove his own actions into his thick skull. John's eyebrows furrowed as he sat back in his seat. A calloused hand coming up to rub his beard like he did whenever a missions plan changed last minute, or a recruit did something stupid. He looked exhausted, and annoyed. Fucking. Annoyed. Like you were just a child that was having a tantrum over not getting a treat. Not like you were his boyfriend of 6 years. Like you weren't the man he'd laid in bed with, whispering honey sweet words of a distant future where you'd settle down and marry. Like you weren't justified for being upset that he'd been ignoring you for months in favor of his beloved taskforce.

"When was the last time we kissed, John?" You spat, "Do you even remember? It was a month and a half ago. 45 days ago." Throwing your hands up you began to pace again. Quickly walking back and fourth to try and do, something. You weren't even sure why you were anymore, your thoughts too muddled to make out anything coherent even if you tried. You were probably working yourself up, probably making yourself more angry then the situation called for. But at this point? You deserved to be angry. You deserved to be fucking pissed. You weren't even looking at Price, "Do you really have nothing to say, John? Do you-" John stood up, slamming his hands on his desk with a harsh slam. Making you jolt to a stop, eyes wide as you stared at him. Johns usual calm, even soft demeanor around you turning into something you didn't recognize. "[Name] for god's sake I don't have time for your shit. I have things to do and that doesn't include you having a tantrum in my office. Get your fucking act together or get out, lieutenant." John practically yelled through gritted teeth as he glared at you standing there. Probably looking like a deer in headlights. With a long exacerbated sigh he sat back down in his chair. His eyebrows knitted together as he looked down to whatever paperwork he was busying himself with. You simply stood there in shock. He looked so much different now then he did when you'd first met. Johns famous mutton chops were starting to grey and all the stress he constantly held made him look 10 years older. His soft baby blue eyes now were jaded and grey. Filled with a hardness you could only get through time. Then it just, clicked. John, your John, was always a workaholic. Against his best interest he'd work himself into burnout just to be overworked and under-appreciated the next day. Only to wake up in the morning and do it all again. But your John would always make time for you. He'd always make sure, even if it was 10, hell, 5 minutes, some part of his day was spent with you. That John would be the first to seek you out after missions and check you over for injuries. To make sure you were alright. His hand resting on your shoulder just a second longer then it should as he passed you a loving look. Grinning ever-so-slightly before going back to his normal stoic appearance. But the man in front of you wasn't your John. Your sappy lover was long replaced by Captain Price, smothering John with his overwhelming force until there was nothing left of the man.

[joyce-stick]

An Essay About Slash Review of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, A Video Game Which is Very Good

(and also: has prompted many quite wrong rather bad takes)

An essay by Audrey of the joystick system

The very bad discourse and drama around The Coffin of Andy and Leyley has served to obscure the simple fact that it is quite a very good video game and this video essay is here to tell you about that.

Video version:

Previous video essay: Lost Judgment's Lost Plot

If you enjoy this essay, please consider following us here or on any other platforms, and/or donating to support future works via our Patreon or Ko-fi.

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Transcript:

Hi everyone. So. The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is really, really fucking good.

If you’ve heard of this game, you’ve probably heard of it in the context of memes, screenshots divorced from context, and/or capricious moral outrage. If you’ve not heard of this game, well, you’re hearing of it now! And good thing, too, because much of the coverage and discussion around this game that already exists has… been, let’s just say, not particularly earnest. I hope to remedy that at least somewhat with this video.

If you’ve heard about this game because of discourse, and come here expecting drama and hot takes, then, this may not be your video. Or your YouTube channel, even. Or maybe it is, if you’d like the delicious comments section. If you’re that sort of clicker, though— welcome! I’m Audrey of the joystick system, and this is the place where I (and my headmates) talk honestly about things we care about, and I hope you’ll hear me out a little and maybe consider staying and improving our viewer retention. Thanks, if you do.

So, to writ: My purpose today is to gush. I will be gushing here. For most of it. And as for what I will be gushing about, some of it will be gushing BLOOD, GUTS, AND DELICIOUS DEATH. I am entirely serious. The subject of today’s presentation contains mature content, including copious foul language and themes slash depictions of death, cannibalism, cultism, demon summoning rituals, parricide, dystopian social decay, and heterosexuality. Oh, and also a little bit of incest as a treat, I guess, but the incest is heterosexual, and that’s worse.

[long pause]

Excellent. You’re still here. So. This morbidly beautiful video game may not be for everyone, but that’s good, because it is instead for exactly me! A short plot synopsis of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley might go as follows:

if you're not watching the video listen to this for extra effect

Siblings Andrew and Ashley Graves are forcibly quarantined inside their apartment by the local authorities, with no food and even less hope for rescue. Their parents have abandoned them. Absolutely no one is coming to save them. In order to survive and escape this awful situation, they butcher and consume the fresh flesh of some guy who got himself soul vored by a demon that he summoned without a plan.

This conspicuously carnivorous crime, and their effort to cover their tracks, puts them in a fair bit of a deeper shithole than they are already in. So naturally they keep digging themselves deeper by committing even more crimes, AND in the process, also dig themselves deeper into their toxic codependent sibling relationship, which is going just great, thank you. Sure, Andrew almost killed his sister, but he didn’t, and that’s what matters! And she still loves him, so it’s all good!

This is of course a joke.

First thing I absolutely love about this game is the writing. It’s witty, intelligent, uncompromising, and just generally delicious. It holds nothing back in depicting the toxicity of the two leads and their relationship, resulting in two compelling characters whose flaws and few virtues perfectly complement slash exacerbate one another, resulting in a beautiful train wreck of a relationship dynamic that proves equal parts disturbing, mesmerizing, and hilarious.

The charming darkly comedic bite of the writing style also lends a lot of great character to the setting. This sardonically presented dystopian world is both richly detailed and fleetingly elaborated on, a commendable balance to have achieved, in my opinion. The first chapter of this game is hilarious not just because of the banter between Ashley and Andrew (which is terrific), but because it presents such a sharp satire of current year bullshit.

As just an example, I give you, one of my favorite jokes in the game:

I probably don’t need to explain the thing this is making fun of to you, but I will anyway.

The situation presented in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley’s first episode is very easily readable as an allegory for how disasters that are a direct result of ongoing 2020s late capitalist decay continuously fuck people over. In particular, this scenario feels like a direct commentary on both the COVID-19 pandemic as well as the Flint, Michigan water crisis. The former obviously has affected way more people but what both have in common is that they are crises created and exacerbated by malfeasance and/or negligence committed in the name of for-profit interests, and that the “response,” to them, such as there was one, has amounted to dehumanizing and marginalizing the victims while minimizing the issue, forcing the victims out of society’s wider view, and being reticent to punish the individuals responsible. 

Just as the authorities responded to the water crisis and the worst excesses of the pandemic in real life, the authorities in The Coffin of Andy and Leyley impose half-measures designed to further restrict the freedom of the dirty undesirables who bear the worst damages, while merely shielding the upper echelons of society from the disaster rather than actually addressing or attempting to solve the issue. Most of you who lived through 2020 in the United States probably have experienced the frustration of being on the receiving end of this kind of policy.

During the pandemic, the quarantine was supposed to protect us, but for a lot of people it ended up doing quite the opposite. A lot of folks didn’t have any savings, and couldn’t get any since the employment market wasn’t exactly on fire, and our representatives had to be bothered way too much just to put out a pithy economic stimulus just to save face. Not to say that this all has stopped, exactly, as all that’s changed now is that we’re just, living with this situation, but.

It wasn’t literally a cop outside everyone’s door preventing them from going outside to not die, but for a lot of people, it might as well have been that! Never mind those who, y’know, had no inside to retreat to. Or were imprisoned during the pandemic and left even more unprotected! Or thrown out by their landlords! And so on. And, y’know, the big chain grocery stores keep throwing out all the perfectly good unsold food, so they’re already sending this message in all but, well… these exact words.

So, that’s why I think this joke lands. It’s exaggerated, but familiarly rooted, and that’s just good satire! It’s a joke which feels lifted right out of Invader Zim, which, I would put The Coffin of Andy and Leyley right about on the level of as far as both the tone it’s going for and the quality of its execution. Which of course, brings us to the extremes that these circumstances push its characters, and its plot, to.

Okay, so, also like Invader Zim, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is hardly a polemic, nor is it a morality tale. Sure, there’s social commentary in it, but that’s just a nice side thing. It’s not a story about the otherwise innocent victims of an unjust society who are pushed to do terrible things by circumstances outside their control— it is, rather a story of terrible people, who, both because of their character failings, and the desperate situations they find themselves in, find themselves doing even worse things.

Andrew and Ashley commit the cannibalism the first time in large part because they kind of have to do it. No food! Cop outside their door actively deterring them from getting food! Out of options! So they do it. They could probably be excused, if only they were given a fair trial. Which they realize they’re not going to get. So yeah. It’s understandable that they do it. And that they kill this one cop, who very much has it coming.

But they do not have to keep doing it! And gosh grief, do they keep fucking doing it— so many its. They really do not stop digging that hole that they are in. Even the first time that they do the cannibalism, when they kind of really have to do the cannibalism, Ashley is just a little bit more excited about doing the cannibalism than she probably should be.

I love this kind of delicious edgy dark humor. I love stories that go for it, imagine the worst possible people they can, and also try to make that funny. I love this about Invader Zim, that it presents a character who is unquestionably a monster, but also has relatable human desires like wanting to fit in and being concerned about looking weird or abnormal, but has those feelings for very different reasons and acts on them by committing some very despicable crimes. It really gets at a deep-seated darkness that I and a lot of other fucked up traumatized queer people who were little kids when this show aired have, the catharsis of visualizing some of our worst intrusive thoughts while evoking the emotions that pushed us to imagine this kind of fucked up shit.

I’ve loved this kind of thing since we saw Heathers when we were 14. Heathers is an absolutely incredible film that you should check out, by the way, and about which we failed to properly or interestingly articulate our thoughts a few years back. Its lead protagonists, Jason “J.D.” Dean and Veronica Sawyer, are similarly relatable characters who have familiar feeling flaws and emotionally resonant trauma hangups, and also function as very toxic enablers of each other’s worst traits, leading them to work through those feelings by, y’know, murdering their classmates!

Heathers made us realize just how exactly mentally ill of a 14 year old we really were when we were 14, and I love it for that. So. So fucking much.

That was ten years and change ago.

We are still a mentally ill 24 year old.

And Andrew and Ashley Graves, if I had to sum them up, are basically J.D. and Veronica, if they were in their twenties, siblings, and also way, way, way worse.

And I love them.

So, obviously. Ashley and Andrew are hilarious. At least, I find them to be such. They’re terrible, and awful, and amazing, and Ashley is such a girlboss. She is one of the most God Forbid Women Do Anything characters ever.

Anyway! I’ve talked about the cannibalism, and the dystopia, and the characters, and why all of that’s good. I’ve also forgotten to talk about the part where they evade an assassin, and, also a host of other things.

I love that this game has so many fun little optional interactions with NPCs, objects, and items, that you can totally miss. I love how the narration hints at the solutions to puzzles by snarkily referring to things you can interact with as what their purpose is to the characters rather than what they are, this quip about the mop that you clean up a murder scene with, the interactions that Andrew has with these cultists who suck at demon summoning, the excellent in-game art and the brilliant visual duality of Andrew and Ashley’s character designs, this line where Andrew is upset that life is so hard for them as fugitives from the law because they can only find this one shitty motel that takes cash and doesn’t ask them for their ID, and also the music, which is royalty free music made by people unassociated with the developer but is nonetheless perfectly suited for the game.

So much about this game is stuff I find so completely brilliant, and I have so little to criticize, that I think we’d probably be here all day if I kept going. So.

Let’s spend a thousand ish more words talking about the parents.

When The Coffin of Andy and Leyley begins, the protagonists’ parents are absent. You can optionally find two early references to them early on— one, if you interact with the bed in their bedroom, and encounter the shocking revelation that “Your parents have FUCKED on this bed.”

The second, is if you interact with the phone, the game dutifully informs you that,

You’re probably less than five minutes into the game at this point, barely begun solving the first puzzle, which prompted you to “find nutrients to not die.” And of course, this says about all you need to know. These children have been abandoned. But if it needed to be any clearer, the game later delivers unto you a flashback to prior in the story, when Ashley desperately calls Mrs. Graves for help after they leave and go move to a hotel, and later a new house, to which the kids are of course not invited. And this specific scene, specific line, here, fucking hit me:

“And I don’t want to hear these lies about starving anymore.”

Emphasis mine.

Even as Ashley and Andrew escalate the severity of their crimes which gradually come to have less and less to do with their need to survive as the story goes on, I find it very hard to not be on their side at least a little bit, and this is easily the biggest reason why.

I have had this phone call.

Not this exact specific phone call, of course. Obviously, I’ve never been locked up in an apartment with an armed patrol outside my door whose job it was to gaslight me while ensuring that I starved to death. Obviously, my mom has never said those exact words.

But gosh grief and fuck me if it’s never felt like she has. She may as well have fucking told me that, with all the things she told me I was lying about. And who fucking knows, maybe she did say those exact words to us, and we repressed them. I don’t know. I am very not done working through all the bullshit that she gaslit us over.

*sighs, preparing to vent*

I have called our mother and had to beg her to pay for food. I have called her and had to beg to pay for our rent, while our parents were supposed to be supporting us studying abroad. I have called her and begged her to forgive me for daring to use just a few of the thirty dollars our parents used to send us to live with every month back then, to buy a drink or a movie ticket or something. I have had to concede to our parents financially holding us hostage, had to go the last week of the month on a shoestring diet while waiting for them to graciously deposit another thirty dollars into our bank account... so that we could continue eating. I used to relish February, the shortest month, for being the one part of the year in which I had to stretch out that thirty dollars the least. And once, I pleaded with our mother to pay for us to move to another apartment when the landlord suddenly kicked us out of the current one, abruptly and obligatorily switching gears from arguing with her to kissing her ass through our gritted teeth, under threat of our parents cutting off their financial support of us completely, abandoning us in a foreign country where we had no money, no job, and barely spoke the language.

And one day, after I stopped dancing to their tune, they just stopped listening, stopped even pretending to want to help. After nineteen years of escalating emotional and physical abuse and neglect, they abandoned us. And one day, after I spent months working 10 hour days every week Ubering food around for tips, sending my resume, filling applications, making calls, stopping into places to ask for work, all to no avail, for months, and desperately plugging the Patreon page of this very YouTube channel praying that some generous soul with money to burn would solve all our problems. All of this still wasn’t enough, and wasn’t going anywhere, and I’d run out of money and was short on rent on the one sublet room we could get that cost exactly three hundred dollars…

And I called her, and I asked her for help. I really didn’t want to. I wanted to hear nothing of her again. And she said to stop lying. To stop bullshitting her that I couldn’t get enough money, or find a job.

Not too long after, I swore off all contact with her, and eventually also with our father. And every time I have spoken to either of them since, I have made no secret of how I feel. Because if I get nothing out of kissing their ass, why fucking pretend.

My family is not poor. They own their house. They own, and leased out, a second house. Their house is full of fancy IKEA furniture and various other niceties, they’ve renovated the place at least twice, they live in a nice, safe neighborhood, they have an attic and a basement, they at one point paid for multiple plane tickets for us per year while still refusing to let us eat on any more than thirty five dollars, an extra five dollars we also had to beg them for. Our dad has a lucrative tech job. All of this, and they insisted, while refusing to answer questions about their finances in any detail, that they couldn’t afford to help us go to where we wanted to go for college, that they had no place for us in their house, that they couldn’t afford three hundred dollars of rent to help us have a roof over our head for one more month.

So when I read this delightful jaunt of a chapter of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, where Andrew and Ashley break into their parents’ new huge house to steal all their shit, and Ashley says “This is some rich people stuff!” about their fireplace,

And when their mom says, “there’s no room to keep housing you here indefinitely,” and the internal monologue says, “even though it’s way bigger than the old house.” It’s both an entertaining mockery of the attitude of the typical American family, how first you’re your parents’ property for eighteen years and then you’re turned out on your own to face the world without their support, and how the fuck are you supposed to live like that, to figure out how to live your life in the face of that, to meaningfully be a fulfilled person in that situation, especially in a time, when, no, mom, I can’t pay a college tuition on a waitress salary like you did back in the fucking nineties, you c--t,

Even though they have an extra bed in their basement and a perfectly good couch and plenty of space for another bed besides, and a vegetable garden, and a kitchen, and all these other middle-class petty bougie niceties, the Graves mom says, “sorry, we can’t keep helping you,” and. And. I read all this, and I think,

“I understand why Ashley wants to fucking flay these people. I understand why she wants to K1!L them.”

I cannot tell you how much catharsis the ending of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley episode 2 gave me. I cannot convey the weight of my gratitude that someone out there validated my anger and my specific fucked up power fantasy with their art. I didn’t even ask them to. I probably would’ve eventually done it on my own. But I’m so glad that someone did it for me.

If I ever hypothetically meet Nemlei, somehow, and have some cash, I will happily buy them a drink. Hopefully, by paying this excellent game’s ten dollar cover price, I already have!

I know you’re not watching this, but on the off chance this reaches your ears, I just wanna say thanks. For giving me a safe, legal, regret-free, socially acceptable, non-violent outlet for the rage I feel towards my parents.

Well.

Mostly socially acceptable.

Meow.

This game is not finished, as you may have noticed if you’ve gone to check it out on Steam. It ends on an ambiguous and open note, but in my opinion, a perfectly satisfying one. Nemlei could disappear absolutely, never release the proper ending of this game, and never make another game again, and I would not be mad. I've already got more than my money’s worth and then some. So. Yeah. I’m happy. Count me as happy!

I kinda wanna start talking a bit more about the branches of the second episode. I wanna say how it’s a brilliant idea to have two separate story arcs for the two variations of this episode’s ending, and how I hope that that’s executed on as beautifully as the rest of the game already is. I wanna talk about the ways in which Andrew and Ashley’s mom is ambiguously humanized despite being so obviously terrible. I wanna talk about the dialogue Andrew does when his parents offer him a chance to make amends, and he has doubts, if you choose to let him have them, and how I would probably also have doubts in his position, and not be able to follow through without my lovely evil cannibal sister pushing me towards… the thing. I wanna talk about this line, where Ashley talks about why she likes eating people, and how it’s so equal parts poetic and macabre and edgy bullshit and that that’s such a beautifully balanced cocktail of emotion to nail and Nemlei totally fucking nails it

I WANT TO GUSH FOREVER. ABOUT THIS GAME. AND I WANT NO ONE TO STOP ME.

Alas, I will stop myself.

And move on to the elephant in the room!

THE FUCKING.

Mom: “But that-.... That doesn’t make any sense.” Mom: “Why would you not-......” Mom: “Ah, I get it.” Andrew: “..........??” Mom: “You fuck her.” Andrew: “Wha— HUUUUH?!?!!?” Mom: “Oh that is disgusting! Andrew, she’s your sister for god’s sake!” Andrew: “I haven’t done anything!? What the hell, mom!?” Mom: “Then what does she give you that makes it worth all this?” Andrew: “W-well that’s none of your business, is it??” Mom: “I knew something was off… How did I fuck up so bad? I’m the worst mother ever..!” Andrew: “No! I mean yes you are, but I have never—!” Ashley: “I’m baaaa-ack!!!” Andrew: “Now of all times!?” Ashley: “I got the money! Did you miss me, handsome?? Did you? Did you??” Mom: “...........................” Andrew: “(I WANT TO DIE!!!!!!)”

Okay. So. I said I didn’t want to talk about this. But I’m talking about this game. I can’t not talk about it.

Yep, it’s hot takes and drama time!

So, not too long ago, Nemlei deleted their Twitter, their Itch.io, their everything, their entire online presence. The Steam page for The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, which used to list Nemlei as the developer and publisher, now lists “Kit9 Studio.” It is the only game to their name on the platform. A community forum post from said entity known as Kit9 announces that “the developer” (no name given) “has decided to permanently and completely terminate their activities online from here on.”

I don’t know exactly what happened, or why they did this. There’s a lot of people around who sure think they know. But in brief, as neutrally as possible: Nemlei, or someone close to them, was doxxed, or at least sought out as a doxxing target, by one or multiple users of an online forum. Their supposed crime? Making a video game “for degenerates.”

I don’t know who did the doxxing. I don’t know what their motive was, and for my own sanity, I am not going to look. I am choosing not to care. The most important and most obvious fact at hand here is that Nemlei’s creation has been met with controversy amongst social media users, and about one or two hack video game outrage journalists, who seem to have nothing better to do or say. And it seems clear that the doxxing wouldn’t have happened had they not been met with this negative attention. And all because of this.

Not the cannibalism, not the parricide, not the demon sacrifices. No, um, the one implied sex scene.

And it doesn’t even actually happen! It’s just a premonition of a possible future event that Ashley and Andrew supernaturally receive. It’s not particularly graphic, it doesn’t yet go anywhere, and it’s a short scene on an optional route that the game actively forewarns you about. You have to be trying to see it on purpose.

Well, that’s all true. It is indeed a minor and avoidable scene, and the discourse about it has absolutely poisoned the well when it comes to the conversation about the game. But also, “uhh, it’s optional and not a big thing,” is inadequate as a defense. This is still content in the game that Nemlei actively chose to put in the game, and even discounting this, the themes of incest are all over the game. Ashley speaks flirtatiously to Andrew at basically every turn. Even if you avoid this specific scene, the incest themes are not something you’re going to just not notice, if you’re paying attention to the text.

All that being said, it’s not like this content comes as a surprise. The Coffin of Andy and Leyley’s Steam store page accurately represents the product! A brother and sister. Codependency and cannibalism. It’s not as if you don’t know what you’re paying for and choosing to play. You came here for this! Most of the people playing this are here for this! You have to figure that if they are fine with killing and eating people, they’re probably fine with fucking each other, or, eventually possibly eventually going to be, at least.

So you’d think, except that many people seem to unironically believe that the cannibalism is more moral than the incest.

Oh, god, I’m doing this right now, aren’t I.

So, I get it. While I’m pretty skeptical of the notion that cannibalism is not as bad as incest, I do realize that incest is, at the very least, the more taboo of these things, and that a lot of people are more uncomfortable with it than they are with the cannibalism and the murder. To quote the one positive and in-depth review available in any media outlet at the time of this writing, from Destructoid:

“This aspect is undoubtedly the most controversial element about The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, and I understand why. While cannibalism is a taboo subject, it’s present in mainstream games like Fallout as an option for players. Having incestuous themes crosses over into Drakengard territory, and even then, no option allows Caim to reciprocate Furiae’s feelings for him.”

"The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is horrifying and I can’t get enough of it" Andrea Gonzalez, Destructoid, November 12 2023

So, yeah, I. y’know. Get it. I know why. However.

I can point to a lot of things that Andrew and Ashley do wrong in this game. They are, as per the game’s premise, very not okay, not as individuals, and not together. Andrew is way too attached to Ashley, and Ashley is generally an awful person who is way too attached herself, and also, all too quick on the draw to take advantage of Andrew’s attachment to her to make him do what she wants. This is not a healthy relationship. And we’re here for it! It’s compelling!

But, I think it’s worth asking why it’s such a toxic dynamic. Is it because they’re siblings? Well, not really. It’s a dynamic that’s specifically possible with them being siblings, but it’s not because of their sibling connection.

The actual reason why Andrew and Ashley’s relationship turns abusive isn’t because their relationship is abusive by necessity or nature, but because Ashley abuses their relationship. And she is doing this for basically the whole game. Like, it is abusive the whole time. It doesn’t become abusive when their relationship takes its romantic turn. Does it become more abusive? I mean. Maybe. Maybe the romance exacerbates the abuse. I dunno, we’ll have to wait and see what the next episode says.

So, then, why is the notion of them possibly in the future having sex the elephant in the room here, when before that, they do so many objectively worse things that cause much more harm both to themselves and others? Is that really so much more of a bigger deal than the murder and the people eating?

Or. To phrase it Ashley’s way. You played a game about mutilating and eating your parents’ corpses, and getting laid is what you’re freaking out about?

Is the incest really that much more extreme, or are you just more disgusted with it?

And even if you are more disgusted with it. Even if we grant that it is, actually, somehow, more harmful for siblings to have sex with each other, than to do murder and cannibalism. Is this the hill you’re dying on? What you’ve decided is of such utmost importance and injustice that you decide to go harass some random indie dev who just wants to make a silly video game about a couple of siblings eating people?

Does it truly make sense to let your kneejerk moral disgust guide you to the conclusion that the creator of this game deserves to be persecuted for merely writing about and drawing a thing you don’t like?

Well, to answer that, we have to get into the question of whether or not “immoral fiction” is harmful, or “normalizing” things that are wrong. Does fictionally depicting an immoral action actually cause harm?

I could dance around in circles for a little while about the edge cases, and certain writers who are publishing bad or hateful material in bad faith, or fascist propaganda, which is of course always bad, or whatever other example I could use to qualify my point or list out an exception to appease the people who disagree with me, but, I’ll just cut right to the chase, and tell you the answer

No!

The answer is NO!

The thing about taboos is that they don’t make us more safe. They don’t protect us from bad things. All they do is protect people’s comfort by silencing people they don’t want to understand, and enable bad actors by keeping their victims in the dark, and denying them the ability to talk about it.

The only thing we end up doing by censoring stories about these uncomfortable topics, and making it socially unacceptable to talk about them, is make it harder to know. We deny ourselves knowledge. We deny ourselves a conversation about these subjects, we deny ourselves the ability to meaningfully understand them. We deny ourselves power, what little we have, as readers, to understand, and to critique, to reason.

There’s a tumblr post I really like. Well, a number of them, I really like, on this topic, but I’m picking this one, because it’s got a quote I really like. It talks about Lolita. That Lolita. And, now, I’ve never read Lolita, at least not yet. Lolita is a novel about child sexual abuse, told from the perspective of an abuser. It’s an uncomfortable book with an uncomfortable topic, and it’s not wrong to be uncomfortable with it. The author of this post acknowledges that.

But they talk about it. They talk about how it shines a light on its subject matter. The why and the how of abusers and their actions. The ways in which their victims suffer. How it shows all of this in a way that it only could from the perspective it takes. And, I’m just going to quote them. I can’t do anything else. They said it better than I could, right now.

“Embrace disgusting fiction and then fucking talk about why it’s nasty. Now YOU have the power over reality.” - tumblr user legsdemandias

The Coffin of Andy and Leyley has been ridiculed, joked about, hot taked on, made a target, drama-ed over, and so on, but it’s hardly been criticized. No one I’ve seen admitting to not liking it talks critically about why it’s disgusting to them, or tries to understand why it exists, or what it’s for. And this is most people’s reaction to most media that deals seriously with anything taboo. “I don’t get it. I don’t like it. It shouldn’t exist. Get it away from me.”

I’m annoyed that the medium, the art form, of video games, is valued so little by so many that this is the wide reaction when something like this gets popular. That the mainstream games journalism media ridicules it, and the creator gets threatened by an internet mob, and it falls on the weirdos and the freaks and the no-name YouTube uwu girls, to give it the serious consideration and recognition it deserves.

To summarize, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is, in my opinion, a very good video game, and on its behalf, I am mad at video games.

Now, go on. You made it through this video. I told you the plot! You can probably stomach the plot! So go, go. Shoo. Go buy Nemlei a drink. If you want to.

Or, buy us, the joystick system, a drink! You can do that at patreon dot com slash joycestick, or, ko-fi dot com slash joycestick. You can buy us drinks in both of those places.

I’ve been Audrey. Thank you for listening.

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[bengiyo]

Patts Was Going to Blow Tai. Tai Wanted It. Why That Matters.

Greetings, fellow clowns. I am here once again to gush about La Pluie. This time, I’m here to talk about how they’re pacing the sex in this show, and why I hope this is going to become the new norm in genre.

(gifs in this post borrowed from @wanderlust-in-my-soul, used with permission)

At the end of episode four, the end of episode five, and the beginning of episode 6, this show has shown us that Patts physically desires Saengtai. Their first kiss when Tai was drunk lacked any nervousness or uncertainty.

He checked him out four times when he accidentally walked into his room.

He kisses this man with a relief that only someone pining for a long time can feel.

I highly suspect that Tai is a virgin, but he is not embarrassed our shy about that. Tai is a romantic who literally reads Nora Roberts novels to calm down when he gets too excited (@syrena-del-mar​). We know Tai is a romantic who has recoiled inward from the disappointment about his parents. We know that connecting with Patts has reawakened much of this desire in him. What has been a quiet part of this show is how much the show is quietly affirming that Tai is a man. This is significant for me because of all the ways BL/yaoi often creates an uke for the women in the readership to project onto.

In episode four, at the end of the scene where Tai reads Patts’ letter, he jumps backwards onto the bed, and the show lets Title’s bulge bounce briefly. In episode six, we see what appears to be an intentional fold in his boxers to represent his dick print. Then, after he takes his shower, Tai is still thinking about their intimacy on the floor and the show uses sound effects to indicate that he’s still aroused from the moment. This show wants us to remember that these are two guys, and as such they’re approaching m/m intimacy a bit differently than we normally see from the genre.

After they begin kissing a bit, Tai leans into the moment, signified by an effective use of a prop. As a glasses wearer myself, I might have been more careful with my glasses, but I’m not a horny virgin caught up in the moment!

Patts was clearly fine with Tai being on top of him, and only turns them because he’s intending to do something else for him. See @wen-kexing-apologist​‘s post for a more extensive examination of the hands.

I can’t find the posts where we spoke about this before on Tumblr, but I don’t know a lot of folks in my life who are going to go a dinner with spicy foods and then immediately go back home and have anal sex (often with no lube in BL, though we’ve been seeing condoms more lately). There are so many things guys can do with each other long before that particular act, and this felt like the natural progression of their intimacy for the level they’re at.

We’ve also seen repeatedly how much regard Patts has for Saengtai. When he took him to dinner, he explicitly stated that he wants to know the things that Saengtai likes. He wants to take care of him. He wants things to be nice for him. There’s an asymmetry to giving and receiving head that I don’t think we see covered enough in BL. Patts wanted to do something to make Tai feel good.

Tai was clearly into it.

However, because they were caught up in the heat of the moment, and Patts has a good read on Tai, he stops it.

I am so glad this show was willing to show that Patts had to summon his restraint and allowed him to display a bit of frustration about slowing down. It makes him feel real. He’s waited seven years to be with his soulmate, and it turns out they’re compatible! However, there’s no turning off their telepathic connection. Patts wants to do this right. It’s important to do things right.

I need someone who’s more versed in the yaoi framing around seme and uke to look at the couch scene again, because it felt significant that Patts moved himself to the right side of the frame when he wanted to be closer to Saengtai (something he also did in the restaurant with the dad). I think Patts is showing us and Tai that he is willing to adjust himself to any role he needs for Tai’s comfort, which is his primary goal. It also felt significant that he softened more than he has up to this point to reassure Tai that he can want big romantic moments for himself.

I also loved how intentionally Patts removed his hands from Tai when it was clear Tai wanted him to stop touching.

I have a lot I love about this show. I love how it’s subverting the soulmate trope by having Tai and Patts take their time with each other to figure out what kind of relationship they want to have. I like how they’re doing that even as their friends and families are all-but-rushing them into bed with each other.

This show is special, and I cannot state how relieved I was by how this show has avoided faking us out about sexual desire and tension. I like that this show released the tension built up from the last season in a way that also let us learn more about the characters, and let them learn about each other. I’m going to need this to be the year more BL characters blow each other for the plot.

Thank you for coming to my post.

Special shoutouts to @lurkingshan​ and @ginnymoonbeam​ as well for talking through all the ways La Pluie has been playing with and using romance genre expectations.

[hailqiqi]

Done Right, in the Proper Place

In memory of Quil Appreciation Weekend...! I keep forgetting to post my fics to tumblr, which is very terrible of me. This fic is my Garden Party gift for @xluminaheart

Words: 3,319

Read in full below or on AO3 here

>>>>>>>>>⚔︎

It was almost funny, really, how quickly hope died. One minute you’d be full of zest, raring to take on the next big challenge after surviving the odds – top of the world, invincible. The next you were gazing at your own blood, transfixed by the way flesh is actually layered like it is in the first aid books and oh, that couldn’t be a good sign, could it?

It wasn’t, it couldn’t be. And unless – probably, even if – there was a first aid kit somewhere in this godforsaken hellhole, there wasn’t anything that could be done about it.

His exposed flesh glistened darkly, almost ominously. It’s me, it seemed to say. I’m the reason you were finally so useful. I’ve been here all along.

Right then. He released the fabric, letting the feathers fall back into place and hide it all from view. Lucy’s gaze was still on him, but hell if he knew what to say.

Sometimes she walks too close to the grave, Lockwood had once said. And now here she stood in front of him, her boots covered in ice, his very own angel of death.

‘Well,’ he said, finally. ‘That’s a mess.’

‘Oh, Quill…’ she said, her voice thick. Steam rose from her shuffling feet, and ice cracked on the hem of her feathered cape. He couldn’t look her in the eye.

They’d come so far in the last 24 hours, and he’d seen her pushed to the brink of exhaustion, far beyond the point where good agents gave up. And he’d been the one to keep her going. He’d been the one to keep them all going. The way out was behind him, they’d made it – he’d made it – and in a moment he’d step through, and then what?

Then what?

‘Typical,’ he spat. ‘And I was feeling so chipper.’

‘Listen,’ Lucy said. ‘Maybe you’d better stay here.’

He looked up sharply. ‘What, on my own? See you all go through without me? Leave me standing here like a pillock in the dark?’ Maybe she was comfortable in the quiet darkness, but Quill couldn’t think of a worse place to die. ‘I don’t think so.’

She had the audacity to look surprised. ‘But, Quill, that wound…On the other side…’

Her voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath, feeling his lungs expand along with his traitorous sides. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Maybe.’ Probably. ‘But if it happens, it’s got to be done right, in the proper place.’

Somewhere with light, somewhere with people. The thought of dying alone – or living alone forever in this silent half-world, where the walls were all just out-of-true and everything glittered with frost – made fear claw at him, its icy grip digging into the skin of his throat despite the cape.

No. He would not die here.

‘Anyway…’ He grimaced as Lucy gazed at him, her eyes wet. ‘I’m not staying here. Especially in this stupid outfit.’ She didn’t smile. ‘Now – we need to go through.’

Lucy didn’t move. She stood there, her tall figure both so at home and so out of place in that cold, grey room, and suddenly she looked so young. He wanted to tell her it would be all right, but part of him wanted her to tell him it would be all right – and they both knew the words would be empty. There wasn’t much to say, anyway; sometimes, things happened, and now, finally, it was Quill’s turn.

Summoning all his strength, he’d just moved to turn when she spoke again. ‘Quill…You were brilliant just now.’

He paused. ‘Yeah.’

She swallowed, considering her words, and oh God, he couldn’t do this. If Quill was about to face his death he was going to face it with his head held high and his eyes dry, and that meant nipping this in the bud before she got going.

‘Without you—’

‘You and Tony and the others would never have made it, would you?’ He grinned. ‘Glad I made a contribution.’

‘Oh, God,’ she said and really, that said it all, didn’t it?

He held out his hand. ‘It’s OK. Take my hand, Lucy, and let’s go.’

She closed her eyes briefly, breathing deeply through her nose. Then she met his gaze and took his hand.

Together they walked over the narrow little bridge back towards life. The irony of the dead creating a path back to life was not lost on him, nor was the irony that this path back to the living world would lead to his own death. It was poetic, even, one might say.

The ghosts around them swirled and screamed, the noise drowning out the sound of their footsteps on the iron bridge. The air was freezing cold, but Lucy’s hand was warm in his, her presence a quiet comfort.

Quill had held Ned’s hand as he died. A cry of dismay had been all the warning Quill had had before Ned fell to the floor, writhing and gasping as his skin turned blue. Kate and Bobby had held the Spectre at bay and Quill, in his dull blindness, had only been able to hold Ned’s hand.

He’d emptied three vials of adrenaline into Ned’s thigh, of course, but the Spectre had been malicious and hungry and Quill had long ago learnt that if a ghost truly wanted you dead, even the faintest touch was as good as a bullet to the heart. The adrenaline had been as useless at saving him as Quill had been at keeping him safe, but he liked to think he’d at least managed to provide some comfort, in those final moments.

They were passing through the centre now. Bright neon lights suddenly shone ahead and pain bloomed from the wound in his side, making his head spin. He gripped Lucy’s hand tightly and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. She gripped his hand back.

Lucy – God, Lucy. He’d never felt so grateful for Lucy. She was meant to come last, he had been meant to protect her from whatever could be waiting for them on the other side. He’d managed to protect her from Gale, at least. Lockwood would surely forgive him for being more burden than shield now.

His steps were heavy, each one feeling more and more impossible as they slowly emerged from the vortex. The lights on this side were bright and his senses all rushed back at once, overwhelming in their enormity; but Quill was already disorientated, his vision blurry, his breaths coming in small gasps as his whole body seemed to burst into flame. His head was held high, he was sure, and he tried to grip Lucy’s hand tighter as he went to take that final step. Then it all went black.

⚔︎

Of course, it hadn’t stayed black. Quill had woken back up to the sounds of Lucy – sweet, hard as nails, fiercely loving Lucy – gearing up to deliver his eulogy. At least she had sounded suitably tearful. He’d put a stop to that right quick, though, because there are some things one just doesn’t need to hear.

His memory of the night was surprisingly clear, and he had a good recall of everything that had happened right up until the paramedics shot him up with the good stuff while loading him into an ambulance. His agents had bundled him onto a trolley and taken the lift, like a group of grisly couriers. They’d been wheeling him towards the front doors when Sir Rupert had appeared with an army of thugs, and from then on it was a discombobulating haze of screaming, pain, smoke, and crashing as they careened around the Hall and (eventually) out onto the Strand. Quill had been given today’s paper earlier, and apparently the Hall and most of the building had been completely destroyed with over fifty dead. Quite impressive for a day’s work, really.

(He’d been trying not to think about which of the dead he might know. Most of his Fittes contacts had cut him off, anyway.)

None of that, however, was what had been on repeat in his head all day as he lay in his hospital bed at St. Mary’s. Instead his thoughts kept pinging back to those moments when he first woke up on that hard, tiled floor, to the sound of Lucy’s tearful voice. George’s hand had been in his, his grip tight and warm and unyielding. Holly had been covered in his blood, a testament to how hard she’d worked to save him. And Lockwood’s coat – the coat that had formed a huge part of his new identity – had been in tatters, wrapped around him in a makeshift bandage, and then used to keep him warm (and hide the contraband that George had insisted upon. Quill had taught him well). Maybe it was stupid – and, frankly, embarrassingly sentimental – but Quill had never felt more loved.

A little over fifteen hours later, and Quill was wondering if he’d imagined it. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window, the sky outside was a deep, brilliant blue, but Quill felt a very different kind of blue indeed. Where the fuck were they? He’d been awake for four hours; nobody had called, nobody had visited, nobody had checked in. It’s like they’d all forgotten about him.

The unfairness of it rankled. He was only in the bloody hospital because he’d gone to protect those idiots in the first place. And after everything he did to get them through Dark London, you’d think he would at least have been worth a phone call.

What he tried to avoid thinking about was: perhaps they hadn’t called because they couldn’t. He’d given the nurses the number for Portland Row, but it had been disconnected. They’d left two messages for Barnes, but declined to leave a third, instead telling him to ‘Calm down and get some rest’ – a task that felt impossible when the last thing he remembered, as the drugs hit and the doors shut, was the sound of Lockwood losing his mind over Lucy being missing.

Quill had no doubt he’d have left to find her. Holly would have stayed with George, surely, but Lockwood would have gone to get her. Did he ever find her? If he’d had to go back inside, did they make it back out? Quill had no idea.

The paper spread over his lap was crumpled from the way he’d obsessively combed through every word, looking for clues, hoping they weren’t among the unnamed dead. But there’d been no mention of any of them.

The front page was filled with an image of black soot and towering flames against a pre-dawn sky, all angry reds and dirty blacks against the soft indigo emblazoned with the words FITTES FALLS. It was horribly reminiscent of the first time he’d seen Lockwood in the paper – this Lockwood, the besuited young man who wielded smiles as weapons and not the dirt-covered, filthy-mouthed urchin he had been before. That time Lockwood and his merry band had burnt down a house and this time it had been a 14-storey corporate building, so at least he’d moved up in the world. Last time, though, Quill had read the article and felt smug; this time, Quill read the article and felt fear. Had they made it out alive?

Well, Marissa was dead, at least. The papers had been clear on that. All Quill could do, he thought grimly, was hang on to the hope that no news was good news. And, in the meantime, ask for something to help him sleep.

⚔︎

The next time Quill woke up it was dark, the room lit only by the electronic glow of the machinery. His mind was hazy and he struggled towards consciousness slowly, his eyelids fighting to stay closed and pull him back under, the drugs they’d given him still promising a sleep that felt oh-so-tempting. But something had woken him up, some odd, out-of-place feeling, and Quill had been an agent far too long to ignore somethings.

So he fought – fought the residual drugs in his system, fought the lingering cold from the Other Side, fought through the exhaustion and pain and opened his eyes to find the ghost of Anthony Lockwood standing at his bedside.

The apparition was pale in the dim light, the body gaunt. It wore an ill-fitting t-shirt, tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie, all of which were crumpled in a way that felt offensively poetic on his Wraith. Its face was swollen, scabbed and bruised, and, though it stood very close, its weary gaze was fixed somewhere to the side. It wasn’t moving. 

This is it, thought Quill. Here’s my answer. Here’s the end.

And then, a breath later: Hang on, I lost my goggles last night.

‘Motherfucker—’ lashing out blindly, Quill flailed and sent the paper flying. ‘Lockwood! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!’

Pain lanced through him at the sudden movement and he doubled over, annoyed. He’d meant to sound fierce. Furious. But the words had come out on a muddled croak and now Lockwood was all care and concern, parking himself on the bed as he fussed over him, and Quill wanted to fucking murder him.

‘Here, should I—’

‘Where the hell have you been?!’ he gasped out, doing his best to push him away even as Lockwood reached behind him to fluff his pillows. ‘It’s three in the morning!’

‘Look, lie back first, okay Quill? You’re—’

‘I’m not a bloody invalid!’ Quill snapped hoarsely, even as he leaned back on the pillows which were, much to his chagrin, now much more comfortable.

Lockwood, to his credit, didn’t answer; instead, he offered a cup of water that Quill angrily accepted.

‘You—’ he began, then stopped to take a sip.‘You – ugh. You’re alive, then.’

Lockwood’s expression was half-hidden in the dark. ‘Don’t sound too happy about it.’

‘And the others?’ He thought he already knew the answer from Lockwood’s demeanour alone – God, he hoped he already knew the answer – but he needed to hear it.

‘All okay,’ Lockwood said, and those two words sent the relief crashing over Quill like a torrent of water, sloughing off the vestiges of his terrified anxiety and leaving him shiny and vulnerable and new. He wasn’t one for waterworks but fuck was he ever glad for the darkness of the room.

Tilting his head back, Quill closed his eyes and breathed – in through his nose, out through his mouth, just like he’d taught hundreds of trainees to do. In, out, it brings you back around. In, out.

When he spoke a few moments later, his voice was pleasingly steady. ‘You found her, then? Lucy?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, I found her. She’s right next door, actually.’ Now it was Lockwood’s turn to exhale deeply, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion.

‘Next…?’ Quill blinked. ‘Wait, what do you mean she’s right next door? Lucy’s in the hospital?!’

‘Yeah,’ Lockwood answered, shifting to retrieve the newspaper from the floor, the crunch of the thin paper loud in the hushed night. ‘She collapsed this afternoon, just as we were trying to clear out a place to sleep back home.’ Paper crunched and tore as he spoke, worrying it in his hands. ‘Turns out she was bleeding internally. Stab wound in her side, from the fight in the penthouse.’

So there had been a confrontation, then. He didn’t want to hear the details now, though, not at three a.m. when he’d just woken up, and certainly not when Lockwood was mangling the newspaper like a Phantasm wearing a bow tie. He couldn’t deal with whatever was causing that. He needed to keep this light.

‘I didn’t get myself stabbed just so that Lucy could copy me, you know,’ Quill said at length, aiming for haughty.

Lockwood snorted, but the tearing sounds stopped. ‘You’ll have to tell her off for imitating your style when she wakes up, then.’

‘She’s all right, though?’

‘Mostly,’ Lockwood said, shrugging again. ‘She needed surgery but it was straightforward, and she was awake for a little bit before falling asleep again. She’s resting now.’

‘And the others…?’

‘Got sent home while she was still under. George is at Holly’s for the night; I called earlier, and they said they’d tried to visit you but you were asleep. I’m sorry, I meant to pop in, but I fell asleep when Lucy did so I didn’t get round to checking on you until I woke up five minutes ago.’ His voice was tired, but Quill could hear the smirk as he said: ‘Luckily I managed to persuade the nurses into letting me stay, because I’m quite sure visiting hours are over for the day.’

Quill wisely held his tongue. Outright refused to leave and generally made himself a pain in the neck was more likely than any other type of persuasion, if his behaviour when George had been admitted was any indicator.

‘So that’s it? Lucy and I are in hospital, the rest of you are okay?’

‘Yeah. I’ve got a couple of fractured ribs, but George and Holly escaped with mostly cuts and bruises.’

Had he been feeling stronger, Quill would have danced a fucking jig, reputation be damned. ‘So five out of five agents are alive, and all we’ve lost is some furniture, my goggles, and your coat?’

‘Yep,’ Lockwood said happily, popping the ‘p’ and turning to grin at him.

Sometimes I want sunglasses just to look at him, Lucy had once said. Quill had teased her mercilessly for it, of course, but in that moment, as Lockwood beamed at him in that half-lit room, he got it. Sometimes he exuded this energy that just dragged you out into the sunniest afternoon, even if it was despite your best intentions. George had called it The Lockwood Effect. 

Quill couldn’t help grinning back. Thank God the nurses weren’t due; they must have made a right pair, grinning at each other in the dark on a hospital bed like lunatics, but they definitely had something to smile about. Five out of five, baby.

‘We really did get out well.’

‘We did,’ Quill agreed. ‘I’m sorry about your coat, though.’

‘Don’t be,’ Lockwood answered firmly. ‘It went to a good cause.’

‘Still. I barely recognised you without it. Thought you were a Wraith at first.’

‘You thought I was… Bloody hell, Quill, do I look that bad?’

‘You look like shit warmed over,’ Quill confirmed. ‘And I can’t even see half of you in this light.’

Lockwood chuckled ruefully, turning his gaze to the window. The clock on the wall read three twenty-five in the morning so it was still a few hours to dawn, but the birds were already starting their song outside. Honestly, between the lateness of the hour and the magnitude of the things that had happened, Quill was almost at a loss for words. I’m glad we’re all alive felt too obvious, and Good job on the arson felt too casual. Instead, he followed Lockwood’s gaze and watched the sky slowly lighten from indigo to a cosmic blue.

To Quill’s (complete lack of) surprise, Lockwood broke the silence mere minutes later. ‘It was my father’s, actually.’

That actually was surprising. ‘What was?’

‘The coat,’ Lockwood clarified. ‘Wait – no. Don’t get the wrong idea; he never wore it or anything. It still had the tag on when I found it.’

‘But it was still your father’s.’

‘It was still my father’s,’ Lockwood agreed. ‘And I like to think I made it mine, too, over the years. But…’ he trailed off with a shrug, then turned to face him properly again, one hand gently gripping his shoulder. ‘You’re here, Quill, and that’s all that matters.’

His sincerity was all-encompassing, filling him with a strange, warm comfort – one that seemed to flow from Lockwood’s hand on his shoulder, from the ghosts of Lucy’s hand in his, of George’s fingers and their tight grip, of Holly’s hands on his chest. All of them, saying the same thing.

You’re here, Quill, and that’s all that matters. The words settled over him like a blanket.