#and not use it and not have it harvest everything it fucking hears to do god knows what with. thanks

[toytulini]

sorry i acquired my adderall and took it

[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Sweet Delights

Peeta Mellark x AFAB!Reader

Summery: It's a slow work day in District 12. With rain pouring down outside, who can blame you for wanting to indulge a little? Everything's fine so long as no one walks in... right?

Tags: Pre-established relationship, no use of y/n, pet names, reader has AFAB body/female pronouns, switch!Peeta, switch!Reader, edging, female fingering, teasing, count down, orgasm denial, blow job, face fucking, public sex, someone walks in, dirty talk, Peeta's a freak but he's sweet about it, praise kink if you squint, mentions of eating out, cum swallowing, cursing, post-Mockingjay but that's not really relevant, no reader orgasm this time around. Once again, I'm probably forgetting something.

Notes: I have to say, I did not expect Peeta to win the poll! And not to worry for everyone else, I'll get to all those characters eventually. (Derek girlies, I see you and I love you.) Thank you for your support on the last one, I hope you like this one too! Bon ABBA teeth.

•°《▪︎♡▪︎》°•

Peeta loves surprises.

Giving them, receiving them. If it's unexpected, Peeta is practically bouncing off his chair to figure out what to do with it.

It made everyday life sweeter. Slipping a note into his apron pocket when he wasn't looking for him to discover, finding a million more hidden in my apron. Little drawings hidden amongst everyday things, like the wildflowes Peeta likes to draw and place next to my powders and perfumes. But best of all surprises were the little pastries we would make when the days were slow and the other was watching the front of the bakery. Usually using scraps, because Peeta detests wasting food, but always delicious nonetheless.

The best innocent surprise, I should say.

Today was an especially slow day. Rain pounding down in District 12, making the roads thick with mud. It's a blessing for the hot ovens that fight against the cold seeping through the front windows. Although they're helping me more than Peeta, who's up front perched at the counter, insistent as always that someone needs to be watching the shop. "We won't hear the bell over the rain," he'd said.

I knew better than that. There were tells when Peeta wanted a surprise. He'd never just ask for something, always fearing rejection. Of course the minute I opened my mouth he was ready to do whatever I had even intrusively dreamed of so long as it meant love and praise. But to ask for himself? It's a whole different matter. So when he is insistent I work alone in the back, I understand that this is his own silent way of asking for some sort of surprise. And with the way his broad shoulders look in that pale yellow knit sweater, who am I to deny him?

I'm not one to deny him anything, quite frankly.

The best surprises of all are when we sneak up behind the other, always starting so innocently. Maybe while one of us is baking, maybe while one of us is simply dressing. With the quick slip of a hand, it doesn't take long before the other is panting and begging for release. Not that we always give it to each other.

Peeta liked sneaking up on me in private. Usually when I was in the back baking.

"What are you working on?" He'd usually ask.

"Custom order," I may answer with a smile. He liked my smiles, always said so.

"What are the details?" He'd ask. He'd put his hands on my lower back, rubbing soft enough to not disturb me while still working out some knots.

Then I'd prattle off details. This one is for so-and-so down on whatever-street-or-corner, they'd like a cake.

"For the Harvest Festival?" He'd ask. I'd nod, still focused on my task. "How many orders do we have for the Festival?"

"A good bit, it's our busiest time," I'd always say with a bright, soft tone to my voice. He'd chuckle, placing a small kiss on the back of my neck and pressing his hips against mine from behind, usually revealing his hard on.

"So, how many orders this year?" He'd ask. His hands would work at a knot, his breath hot on my neck, and his hips would roll ever so slowly against mine, taking his time to build both of us up.

"Ah, I think- I think 12?" I'd say, trying to focus on both him and whatever I was making. Cake. Right. Stir.

"12?" He'd ask. His cock would be deliciously hard, grinding against my clothed cunt just a bit harder as his hands would return to my hips, steadying me against him. "That's pretty good."

"Double digits," I'd say brightly, my voice breathy as I struggle more to focus. Cake. Stir. Hands, not hips.

But I'd always do hips instead, leaning back and tilting my head ever so slightly so he can see my enjoyment.

"You need to stir," Peeta would gently guide in my ear. My back would press against his front, his chin now resting on my shoulder.

"I know," I'd say softly. I didn't know shit.

He'd chuckle, one hand slipping to my front to cup one of my breasts.

"Need to get those orders out," he'd remind me. "You always seem so stressed about being on time."

"One of us has to be," I'd say. His hand on my hip would find the band of my pants, slipping past them and teasing me, sliding his fingers against my wet folds.

"Pick up the whisk," he'd instruct. My hands would shake as they obeyed, moving from being splayed across the marble counter to resume my task.

"Stir slowly," he'd say. His large fingers would slip over my entrance, coating himself in the thick lube now dripping from me. "You want to make sure the texture's correct."

It took such mental energy to balance the two things. Especially when he would finally sink in his middle finger, always going knuckle deep and twirling it around inside of me, making sure to leave no spot untouched. His other hand would pinch and pull at my breast, giving special care to make his fingers replicate the feeling of his soft lips wrapped around my sensitive nipples.

"What's the next order?" He'd ask. I could feel myself dripping down his hand, and I knew he loved this. Peeta would do whatever he could to make sure I was wet, even when he wouldn't go any further than simple teasing. I think he liked the idea of me always being ready. Not that he would assume. He always started out slow, and if I ever said no it was never a big deal. He'd simply continue talking to me and go on with his day perfectly fine. But if I was willing, he'd always massage or do whatever until he could feel my arousal himself. I think it's why he likes eating out best. Especially when I'd talk him through it, usually promising to cum down his throat while tugging his soft blond hair. His eyes would grow wide and soft at that, his whimpers increasing as he'd fuck me quicker with his tongue, grinding himself against whatever. It was a beautiful mess he'd turn himself into, desperate and begging silently as he clutched my hips.

"The what?" I'd ask breathlessly. I was tight around him, focused on how slow and sweet he was pumping in and out, twirling and wiggling his finger inside of me. His other hand slipping under my shirt, and his lips sucking gently at my neck, careful not to leave bruises.

"The orders, sweetheart," he'd gently remind me. "What's the next one?"

My lips would part, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to remember. His middle finger would pump out and then pump back in with the addition of his pointer finger, tearing a soft moan from my throat.

"Shh," he'd gently whisper. "We're at work."

He liked this little game. Ramping me up, forcing me to behave a certain way so to not tip off customers. If Peeta wouldn't immediately be arrested for it, something tells me he'd simply fuck me in the front room, bent over the register counter during business hours and just act like it's a normal thing. Such a sweet boy.

"I- ah- need to look at the book," I'd say. He'd roll my nipple between his two fingers, his other two fingers pumping slightly faster as his lips suck at the spot just under my ear.

"You have such a good memory though," he'd say. "You can remember. Just think."

That's a lie. I have a horrible memory and we both know it. But if I say I can't, he'll pull away. Sweet and gentle, he'll go get the book and place a million kisses on my cheek before leaving me to my work and dizziness.

Next order. Next order. That's easy. It's a tart with cream on top. Cream. God, I'd like his cock in my mouth right now.

"Next order. Come on, pretty girl. I know you know it," he'd softly encourage.

"I know it," I'd moan, my head tilted back and resting on his shoulder, fucking his fingers instead of working on the cake. He feels so good, so warm and protecting. Simply smelling the traces of dill and cinnamon baked into his skin made my mind shut off, my eyes growing tired from the feeling of safety.

"I know you know it," he'd say so sweetly. "You're smart, pretty. And you've got a delicious cunt I'd love to fuck over and over if I could," he'd say softly, placing warm kisses on my neck between each point. I was panting openly now, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried desperately to remember who ordered what.

His fingers curled inside of me, making rapid 'come hither' motions fast enough to steal a soft, sudden cry fron my lips. Peetas mouth found mine, swallowing my moans and giving me some of his own.

"I may have to count down, sweet girl," he'd warn me. His fingers had found my g spot, hitting and rubbing it at rapid speed. The cuff of his sweater is soaked from me, his hand sticky and coated. I shake my head quickly, moaning and gripping the counter as best I could to keep myself standing.

"I can remember," I whimpered. Peeta laughed softly.

"I know you can, sweet girl. But look at you, you're a total mess." His voice is sweet and kind, his eyes taking in my current state. "I can't have you all dumb back here during work hours."

He's sweet but he's cruel. God, he's cruel!

"I think there's berries in it," I stammered.

"Ten," he's start patiently, his teeth tugging at my earlobe.

"N-no, wait! There's- There's berries and there's..." I'm completely making this up. I have no clue what's next.

"Nine," he continued, knowing this.

"That's not fair, you started low on purpose!" I whined.

"Eight." He wouldn't argue. I was right.

"It's got- got cottage cheese frosting." I'm so close, so awfully close. I can feel myself clenching around him rapidly, my pussy swallowing his fingers quicker and quicker as I climbed closer towards the edge.

"Seven." Oh, God. This motherfucker.

"Six. Come on, good girl. You can do this," he'd encourage sweetly, kissing my cheek and trailing to my collarbone with said kisses.

"They wanted flowers on the top. Violets, I remember that!" That detail is actually true, surprisingly. The candy violets were always easy to remember because I loved them so much.

"Five." His other hand kneeded my breast, admiring the soft flesh and running his thumb over my stiff, aching nipple repeatedly. "Four."

"You're speeding up," I whined. "This isn't fair."

He let out a soft 'aw,' apologizing and speeding his hands to bring me closer to the edge.

"If you can come before one, I'll fuck you right here," he promised. "You can come before one, can't you?"

I nodded stupidly, moaning and panting as I sped up my hips, slamming down on his hand repeatedly. Cake details be damned, this is my mission now.

"Three." I'm so impossibly close.

"Two."

"Wait a minute, slow down-"

"One."

With one final, cruel, hard thrust of his hand he slips away, leaving me to almost crumple to the ground and opening my eyes to blink stupidly, trying to process what just happened.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dry hand cupping my cheek and looking at me carefully with his sweet, hazel eyes.

A long, soft whine escaped me, batting my lashes as I lean against him and whisper as many 'please's as I can, pressing a dozen kisses all over him. He laughed softly, returning the kisses with whispered 'I love you's.

"Let me go get that book," he'd said. And that was that until that evening when he made up for it like he always did.

Now I was carefully removing a tiny apple pie made from leftovers meant specifically for Peeta. The rain was as bad as ever as I entered the front room, Peeta leaning on the palm of his hand while he struggled not to doze off. His long lashes flutter softly, his lips pressing against each other and his jaw a bit tight.

"Hi sleepyhead," I whisper, sneaking up behind him. He started a little, turning to look at me with the sweetest smile he has.

"Hi," he says cheerily, his voice just a touch gravely. His eyes glance down to the small treat in my hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Is that for me?"

"Of course it is," I say, placing it in front of him. "Figured you could use something to warm you up. It's freezing up here."

He chuckles. "It's not that cold," he says as he picks up the fork I'd placed next to the tiny pie and began scooping some up.

"Liar," I teased. "You're shivering."

He shifts in his seat slightly. "Not from that," he says, a small blush growing on his cheeks. He takes the first bite, then another, smiling and leaning his head against my shoulder.

"Thank you, dear," he says softly. He leans in for a kiss to which I happily oblige, cupping his jaw with my left hand. His lips taste sweet, the sticky apple and cinnamon tasting delicious on him. I swipe my tongue across his lips, stealing a soft moan from him as he allows my tongue access to his mouth, melting in my hands. His hand dropped the fork, accidently missing the pan and instead hitting the counter, but neither of us care. His hand comes up to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to silently ask me for more.

My other hand trails down to his lap, finding one of his hands already there, palming his stiff, clothed cock through his pants.

"Is this what you were doing when I came up?" I ask softly, pulling away from the kiss only a bit. He chases me, biting at my bottom lip to drag me back to him. That's a yes, then.

My tongue explores his warm mouth, tasting him while my hand traces the outline of his dick, pressing and flicking against the tip. He whines, bucking softly into my hand, desperate for more.

"Can you stay quiet?" I ask him, pulling away again. This time my hand on the back of his neck grabs his golden locks, holding him still as I look into his eyes. His cheeks are red as well as his lips, kiss swollen and damp. His breathing is heavy, his eyes blown out. Barely touched and already a beautiful mess.

"Huh?" He asks, his voice higher than usual as he tries to focus. His hand grasping my wrist, making sure to keep my hand where he can buck against it.

"If I asked you to, would you stay quiet?" I repeat gently, teasing him with kisses by leaning forward and pulling away. We both liked this.

"Yes," he said quickly. "Anything."

"Anything?" I ask, raising my brows.

"Anything."

Alright.

I press a quick, admittedly sloppy kiss to his lips once more before dropping to my knees and slipping under the counter. His brows furrow in confusion before he realizes what I'm doing.

"You can't!" He whispers frantically. "What if someone walks in?"

"That's why I asked if you could stay quiet," I say patiently. "Can you?"

He bites his lip, obviously unsure. His eyes dart between me and the shop door, thinking.

"We can wait," I offer genuinely. This seems to be the deciding factor.

"I'll be quiet," he promises eagerly. "I've got a pie I can shove in my mouth if I can't, right?" He jokes, his smile crooked and eager as his hands work quickly to begin freeing himself. He's excited alright.

"Right," I say, taking his hands away and undoing the buttons on his pants myself. "Just keep watch of the shop, alright sweet boy?" He nods, placing his arms on the counter and trying to resume his position.

I slip his cock from the confines of his clothes, pressing a soft wet kiss to the underside along a thick vein. A quiet whine escapes him, his hand covering his mouth. I'm not truly worried about him being quiet, no one is going to come in here during such bad weather. It's just an edge to help work him into a frenzy, knowing full well he never stays quiet. I'd thought I was vocal when we started our relationship, but Peeta easily takes the cake.

His cock is warm, half hard against my lips that trail his veins. My tongue slides from his tip to his base, barely any pressure on his skin. Grazing always works best to start out with. When I reach his base I lap at his skin, blowing soft, cold air against the wet spots to make him squirm in his chair. I focus on his base for a while, sucking, licking, blowing. Ever so gently I even bite just the tiniest bit, enough for him to notice the edges of my teeth along his red, pulsing cock. His voice is soft, panting quietly.

My tongue trails slowly up his cock, exploring different ridges and spots that make him whimper quietly, working my way back to his tip which is soaked with thick, warm precum. I wrap my lips around him, swiping the moisture away with my tongue in one round sweep. I relish in the cry it tears from his throat, the dozen little apologies he whimpers immediately after. His hand covers his mouth, and the other trails down to gently cup the back of my head. I smile around him, swirling my spit around his tip as I suck gently, pressing my tongue against the underside of his dick.

His fingers play with my hair, unintentionally tugging it and apologizing as he does. I simply squeeze his thighs and begin lowering myself, taking him until his tip hits the back of my throat, taking deep, even breaths to fight off the gags that threaten to escape me.

It's when my nose buries in his soft, curly hair at his base that the bell of the front door rings.

"Hi!" Peeta says a little too quickly, a little too brightly. "Welcome to Mellarks Bakery. How may we- I help you today?"

I'm frozen, his hand gripping my hair out of anxiety. If I pull away, we'll be done. If I stay here, Peeta may very well have to make good on his promise.

Although, acting has never been a challenge for him, has it?

The customer is describing a custom tart she wants made, then pulling out a long list and prattling about this, that, and the other thing. Her accent clearly shows her as a Capitol transfer, and these orders always take forever given that they still have a hard time releasing the concept of not over indulging. But this time I don't plan on complaining.

My tongue begins to move slowly, rubbing carefully along the bottom of his cock while I watch his face carefully. He's smiling at the woman who's still going down the list, his eyes glancing at me to confirm this is what we're doing. With a small nod from me, his hand casually covers his mouth once more and he resumes focus on the woman, his other hand now guiding my head slowly, carefully.

He pulls me to the tip of his dick, working me back and forth slowly on just that spot. My tongue works quickly, my lips wrapping around him tightly to help create proper suction around him while I suck.

"Do you have pumpkin?" The woman asks.

"W- what?" Peeta asks, clearing his throat. "Oh, pumpkin. I'll admit I'm running a little low, it's been a popular request since we don't grow them locally. I've requested more but I don't know if they'll be in in time, so if you want something that uses it you'll have to get it-" his voice cracks as I deepthroat him again, swallowing around him quickly before returning myself to his tip. He clears his throat. "You'll have to reserve it right now," he finishes. I can see him quickly scoop up some of the pie, shoving it in his mouth and trying to hide his blush. It's lucky for us how oblivious Capitol born citizens are.

His hand guides me faster, focusing on fucking his tip near the back of my throat since we both know full well how hitting the back of my throat isn't an option. We can't risk any noise gagging may cause since it may not be covered up by the soft music playing on the shop speakers, a gift from Beetee for the reopening.

His pace is fast, faster than it should be. He's close, smiling at the woman and acting as though everything is normal. His large vein throbs, precum spilling out of him with each new thrust into my mouth. My hand reaches to press two digits against the soft spot behind his balls, a sensitive spot that makes him cry and squirm.

His jaw tightens as I do this, his eyes darting down daggers quickly. I can hear coins on the counter, Peeta accepting the list and opening the register. With the loud 'clank' springing forth from the older device, he takes the chance to slam my face down fully on his cock, his fingers making the coins loudly shift around as he gives the customer her change. Tears spring to my eyes from the sudden force, swallowing around him as I focus on my breathing to recover. He promises the woman he'll do what he can and wishes her a good day, and she coos sweetly. She reaches across the counter, patting his cheek and calling him a sweet boy before turning and walking out of the bakery, the bell chiming at her exit.

Peeta looks down at me, smiling brightly. "Hi," he says with a newfound excitement.

I moan around his cock. He gets it.

"You okay?" He asks, his hands moving to cup my cheeks. I make an affirming noise, trying to smile. "I wasn't too rough, was I?" He asks, his thumbs swiping away the small tears dangling from my bottom lashes. I shake my head, swallowing around him. He moans softly, his grip tightening.

"Yeah, I kinda forgot you like it when I am, don't you?" He asks, beginning to slowly pump his dick in and out of the back of my throat. I moan happily, taking him as easily as I can.

"You know how hard it was not coming down your throat with that lady in here?" He asks. "I had to edge myself so that it wouldn't become known how much I like fucking your throat."

My cunt throbs at his words, his closeness making him willing to be more rough. He starts fucking my face in earnest, tearing noises from both of our throats as he loses himself.

"Can't do that again," he pants. "Next time I'm just taking you. I don't care who walks in." He's moaning openly now, his cock abusing me. I can feel him throbbing, twitching. There's enough precum it's all I can do to focus on swallowing and breathing.

"Show this whole District how much I love you," he babbles. "I'll eat you out on this fucking counter, I don't give a fuck."

I press my heel against my clit, grinding into it to relieve some friction as my hands steady my body against his thighs. The chair underneath of him creeks horribly. If anyone walked in now, I don't even think we'd have a small second to hide what we're doing.

"I love your fucking pussy," he rambles, his eyes beginning to flutter shut. "Love your fucking mouth. You take me so well. So eagerly."

I moan around him, spit dribbling from my mouth, hair stuck to my face. His balls slam against my chin, his wet curls pressing against my nose as he face fucks me like a rabid animal.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat," he announces. "Then you're gonna cum down mine. Again," thrust. "And again," thrust. "Until we don't even have to make dinner from how full we'll be." Goddamn, he's close.

His hands are rough, gripping my face. "Rub your tongue harder," he commands. I do, putting as much pressure as I can on his throbbing vein. He moans loudly, leaning forward and clutching my head.

"I'm coming," he pants, his voice high and tired. "Fuck, I'm coming-!"

His warm, thick load shoots down my throat, filling my mouth so much I cant breathe if I want to swallow it all.

"Such a sweet girl," he praises. "So sweet and good, eager to make me cum." His face is pressed against the cool counter, his chest heaving as he recovers his breath. His thumbs stroke my cheeks at different paces, small whimpers escaping him as I milk him dry with my mouth, making sure not a drop is left behind. When he's fully softened, I place a small kiss on his tip before tucking him back in, rebuttoning his clothes and patting his thighs one more time.

It takes a moment for me to rise, my joints stiff and my mind scrambled from the abuse it had just suffered. I stumble a little as I stand, Peeta's weak arms collecting my body and bringing me into a warm embrace.

"You're wonderful," he whispers, resting his head against my chest. I chuckle softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of his messy hair.

"So are you," I say.

He looks up at me, flushed and smiling at me with the most wonderful, lazy look on his face.

"Your turn," he says, finding a new wave of surprising strength and placing me on the counter.

"Peeta, we're still open," I giggle, batting his hands away.

"I know," he says. "Did you think I was joking?"

He stares at me, smiling and eager as he begins to part my legs.

This is going to be a long night.

•《♡》•

Whoever gets second place on the poll is who I'm writing next. Feel free to send in requests for characters/scenarios! See you next time, you degenerates <3

Masterlist

[warblogs17282]

My overall thoughts on Apology Tour (It's actually an 10/10 episode) and an in depth analysis of the episode.

The scene at the start was so fucking good, starts to place the seeds of doubt with Blitz, he almosts gets the point at the start multiple times before backtracking on that instantly, glad the harvest moon festival assassination attempt was brought up, I cannot wait for that to be mentioned again.

And then we get to the apology list, Blitz being in incredible denial about WHY people hate him and think a simple sorry will fix everything, this gets brought up later as well with Stolas fucking chatting shit to Blitz for it, which Blitz needed to hear so badly.

Then we get to Stolas pre song, he really doesn't want to shittalk Blitz, proof that Stolas still cares for Blitz, showing us that Stolitz still has a really strong chance of healing and coming back together with the power of healthy communication.

And then we get to the song, holy fucking shit it is top tier, it's a banger and talks about all the problems they have, how Stolas doesn't want to hurt Blitz, how he's hurt Stolas, with lines like 'I don't think you meant to hurt me' and a massive self reflection on Stolas' part as well. Making it damn well clear to Stolas what he wants, needs and the problems in their relationships, making communication about it later so much easier, POP THE FUCK OFF MY PRINCE. 'I don't think it meant anything at all'. This just shows one key flaw with Stolitz, based on Blitz's reaction in the full moon episode, Stolas now thinks that Blitz entirely never cared for him, something that Blitz HAS to address, eventually they'll get to that point but for now, Stolas is just singing his heart and true emotions out, playing all of his cards on the table for Blitz to see.

Then we get to this part, drunk Stolas and Blitz talking, Blitz actually talks about things properly to Stolas for once, and Stolas calls Blitz out on his bullshit constantly, which I love, because it will force Blitz to go over everything he's mentioned, allowing for actual healthy communication in the future between those two WHICH I FUCKING LOVE SO MUCH. Blitz gets a few issues off his chest during the whole part as well, which, while we're not fully there yet, will also cause Stolas to reflect on a lot of shit as well. FORCING BLITZ TO REALISE WHY SO MANY PEOPLE HATE HIM, AS STOLAS POINTS OUT WITH THE EXISTANCE OF THE PARTY. BOTH OF THEM ARE GOING THROUGH SO MANY EMOTIONS RIGHT NOW AND I LIVE AND DIE FOR IT.

This face, this fucking face. It's finally snaps for Blitz about how he's fucked up so much, what he has to do better all that shit, BLITZ WILL HAVE A MAJOR SELF REFLECTION EPISODE, AND THIS FACE PROVES IT, HE KNOWS WHAT STOLAS WANTS, AND HE'S DAMN WELL GOING TO LET STOLAS HAVE IT.

The way Blitz just, let's him have this dance and eventual fuck with this guy, it proves he's learning, he's not being defensive, he's just letting it play on regardless of how hurt he is, as stated later, it starts with just letting Stolas have this moment, to truly feel happy again, which shows he's putting Stolas' feelings first, and being a good person, which will help him communicate better to Stolas in the future, BECAUSE BLITZ IS LEARNING.

Blitz starts with denial, his trademark defense tactic, trying to shift the blame off himself and onto everyone else, and Verosika putting Blitz in his fucking place, he needs to hear about how he hurt her, about WHY the party exists in the first place, without him realising both of those things Blitz cannot heal, which is what Verosika is trying to get him to realise, how he can hurt people, which with how Blitz slowly gets down and changes his emotions as you can see on his face, Blitz fucking gets it, he's starting to learn to be a better person, to be able to be loved back, to be the person Stolas deserves, to be better for himself.

'I don't want to be this way, not forever.' With the context, this line hits so fucking hard, like a truck. Blitz is actually learning from his mistakes, with her, and Stolas being the two major points, Blitz is going to start an arc to face everything that's haunting him, to get over his problems, face them all, to be the better man for the person Blitz truly loves, Stolas. Everything has undeniably been realised for Blitz, and there's no going back for him, he will learn from his mistakes, and Stolitz can finally be back better, once that healing and mutual communication has been completed.

Stolas looks genuinely happy, like he's found someone, someone to help him through his troubles, to be someone Stolas needs in his life during this point in time. And you know what Blitz does? While he's still clearly hurt and disgusted, he lets Stolas have this moment, to be happy, proving on some level that he does deeply care for Stolas, sure Blitz does that really angry for a moment, but Verosika levels Blitz out with this line 'It just starts with saying, good for him, hope he gets laid.' He quickly simmers down the anger from that encounter, on better talking terms with Verosika, realising what he has to do now (just letting Stolas have this moment) and what to do in the future.

Sure Blitz is mostly angry and upset at the moment, but this starts an arc with Blitz, one of learning and understanding things that he needs to fix to ever be back with Stolas, he cannot deny anything any more for long, Blitz has flown right into the emotional core of everything and he will reflect on it, learn from it. To not be how he was, not forever. To be better for himself, to be better for his lover, Stolas. It's clear that Stolas still has feelings for Blitz, as the song and drunken talk they had shows. Stolitz will come back, not soon. But they will be. We've entered the arc where both Blitz and Stolas heal themselves, eventually being back on actual healthy communicating terms. Both of them don't want to be the ways they were. Not forever.

tldr, I've gone in depth about the episode, why I think it's amazing writing, and where Stolitz goes in the future. THEY WILL BE HAPPY EVENTUALLY. This is easily my new favourite episode, the best of the best, and I only pray that Vivzie can keep this train of amazing storytelling going.

[rainforestakiie]

Hello! Please ignore this if you wish. I promise it will be the last time I ever bug you.

I was wondering about a story in which Adam is first orchestrated to be human’s representative in Heaven. Mutely translating to Adam picking up all the work Heaven rather not bother with. First, orchestrating the residence and basic necessities that would make humans comfortable. Emily helps but angels can only understand humans to an extent.

Adam is mentally exhausted and muffed that his afterlife has been inundated into a full time job. What made it worse was Heaven never acknowledges anything he’s done. The inventions. The farming. Parenting, etc. all of it is simply expected since he’s Adam. The one that ate the apple and nothing else.

He’s already tired by the time Sera gives him another job. Consulting with Hell. The population has basically tripled in hell after the flood and it’s beginning to be a problem. Adam, has only ever been reminded about how much of a fuck up he is. How much his descendants are sinners. How Lucifer tricked him. Or when Lilith left him. It’s all that’s ever spoken to the man that, on earth, as moved passed it. He’s had a life. The worse and the best of it. He’s suffered through his own hells of diseases, injury, disasters, child death. Winters. Bad harvest. Near starvation. All of it. And his reward has been to never stop hearing about that stupid apple, Lucifer. Lilith and Eve.

Now. He has to go and talk to them once a month. Because Heaven wouldn’t want to dirty their hands even a little.

So he goes. And the moment either of them even looks at him, Adam just mentally shuts down.

And pretends not to know them. At all. Greets them like he would any representative. Never calls them by name. Never raises his voice above monotone. And if asked about anything beyond the work, he just plays dumb. He’s just Adam. Just here to do a job. Eden? What Eden? Who’s wife? Oh, apples? Nah. I prefer pears.

If Lucifer gets annoyed and tries to get a raise, Adam just treats him like a stranger. Business. Ignoring them most of the time. Till Lucifer just snaps.

Anyway! That’s my idea. Had it for a whole year. Please ignore it. I was just happy to get it off my chest.

I’ll leave you be now. Thank you!

hello! i love this idea! i think i might have gone a little crazy? i hope you like this! i worked hard on it. i really loved how it came out~

Shut Down

Part 01 - Part 02

hope you enjoy it! and so so sorry for the wait!

The golden haze of Heaven shimmered faintly, eternal daylight casting soft halos on everything, but Adam’s heart was heavy with a darkness that could not be gilded. He stood at the edge of a celestial orchard, one he had designed—by necessity, not desire—watching humans wander the perfect rows of fruit trees. They laughed, basked in a perfection he had painstakingly carved from nothingness. Each fruit held just the right amount of sweetness. Each pathway was wide enough for families to stroll hand in hand. This place wasn’t handed to them; he had built it, from the dirt up.

But none of them knew that. No one knew, or worse, no one cared.

Emily was the only one who ever said thank you. She was small for an angel, slender and fragile looking, with eyes like quiet storms. She tried to understand humanity, tried to help Adam navigate the impossible demands Heaven had placed upon him. But angels were built for praise and worship, not empathy.

“I think the fountain by the entrance could use a little lighter,” she said one day, perched on the edge of the pristine marble basin.

Her voice was tentative, the kind of careful tone you use when you know the person you’re speaking to might break if you push too hard.

Adam wiped sweat from his brow—a pointless habit in Heaven, where no one sweated, but old habits die hard. He stared at her, his exhaustion a dull roar behind his eyes.

“Do you think that’ll make anyone notice it?” he asked bitterly. “Or me?”

Emily didn’t answer. She never did when he spiralled like this. She just stayed close, her silence a quiet balm he didn’t know he needed.

Heaven, for all its glory, had become Adam’s eternal workplace. He was its reluctant architect, its farmer, its mediator. He had planted the first seeds of the orchard. He had taught the humans how to tend them, how to live in this unnatural perfection. He had invented games for the children and written laws to keep peace. And yet, the angels looked right through him, their faces serene and empty, as though all of this had simply sprung into existence the moment humanity arrived.

And why wouldn’t they? He was Adam. The Adam. The man who had eaten the apple, ruined Eden, and dragged humanity down with him. That was the only story anyone cared about.

So when Sera appeared with another task, her wings glowing with soft, celestial light, Adam felt the last thread of his patience snap.

“You’ll need to consult with Hell,” she said, her voice dripping with divine authority.

Adam blinked at her, incredulous. “Consult? With Hell?”

“They’re experiencing… issues,” she said vaguely, as though the words burned her holy tongue. “Human souls. Integration. Something about inefficiencies.”

Adam laughed, the sound sharp and humourless. “Of course. Because when there’s a problem no one wants to deal with, it’s my problem.”

Tilting her head, Sera’s expression as blank as polished stone. “You were the first human. It is your role.”

“My role,” Adam repeated, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. “My role was to live, to love, to die. That was supposed to be it. I didn’t ask to be some… some cosmic janitor cleaning up Heaven’s messes!”

Emily reached for his arm, but he pulled away, the movement sharp and unkind. He regretted it immediately, but he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth.

“I gave up everything for this,” he said, his voice breaking. “My rest. My peace. My soul. And for what? So I can spend eternity fixing problems no one else wants to touch?”

Sera’s serene expression didn’t waver, and that only made his anger burn hotter.

“Why don’t you send an angel?” he demanded.

“They lack the… context,” she said, as though that explained everything.

Laughing again, hollow and bitter. Adam weakly smiled, “Of course. Because understanding humanity only matters when it’s inconvenient for you.”

Sera disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving Adam alone with Emily and his fury. He sank onto the edge of the fountain, his head in his hands.

“Adam,” Emily began, her voice soft.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Just… don’t.”

But she didn’t leave. She never left. Instead, she knelt beside him, her presence steady and warm.

“They’ll never thank you,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, startled by the raw honesty in her voice.

“They’ll never thank you,” she repeated. “But that doesn’t mean what you’ve done doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t feel like it matters,” he said, his voice trembling.

“It matters to me,” she said, and for the first time, her voice cracked.

Adam looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the truth in her eyes. She cared—not because it was her duty, not because she was an angel, but because she had seen his struggle and chosen to stay.

The weight of her gaze was almost too much to bear. But in it, he found the faintest flicker of hope.

Maybe this wasn’t the eternity he had wanted. Maybe it was thankless and exhausting and infuriating. But as long as Emily was there, as long as someone saw him, maybe it wasn’t entirely unbearable.

And so, when the gates of Heaven opened, revealing the dark, twisting paths that led to Hell, Adam took a deep breath and stepped forward. Emily followed, her presence a quiet promise at his side.

Hell was nothing like Adam had imagined. It wasn’t the fiery pit artists had painted or the grotesque chaos preachers had warned of. No, Hell was a kingdom. Cold, sprawling, and alive. Its skies were the colour of bruised steel, its rivers slick with an oily shimmer that reflected the low, glowing embers scattered across its barren expanse. The weight of despair was heavy in the air, like the static before a storm.

Stepping through the gates; Adam’s footsteps silent on the cracked obsidian ground. He had been here so many times now that the surreal horror of it barely registered. Heaven’s emissary to Hell. What a joke. A cosmic errand boy for a celestial bureaucracy that couldn’t be bothered to handle its own messes. Hell’s population had tripled after the flood, and, naturally, it fell to Adam to negotiate solutions. Heaven didn’t want to “dirty their hands,” and Hell… Hell just enjoyed the game.

“Adam,” came the silken voice that made his stomach churn.

Lucifer sat on a throne of jagged iron, lounging with the kind of ease that only someone who ruled Hell could manage. Beside him, Lilith perched like a shadow come to life, her dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and malice.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” Adam said flatly, bowing just enough to be polite but not enough to seem subservient.

Smiling wider, a wolfish grin that would have once made Adam’s heart race—not in fear, but in something he didn’t care to name anymore. “Majesty? Highness? Come now, Adam. When did we become so… formal?”

Adam didn’t answer. He placed his satchel on the obsidian table before the throne, pulling out scrolls and ledgers.

“The population problem is worse than Heaven anticipated,” he said, his tone devoid of inflection. “I’ve outlined potential solutions. We can start with increased partitioning of—”

“Adam,” Lilith interrupted, her voice a purr. “Don’t you even want to ask how we’ve been? It’s been, what… a century? We missed you.”

His hands stilled for the briefest of moments before continuing to unfurl the scroll. “This isn’t a social visit,” he said without looking up. “I’m here to work.”

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on a hand adorned with rings that glinted like fresh blood. “Work. Is that what they’re calling slavery these days?”

Adam didn’t respond.

“You always were good at taking orders,” Lilith murmured, her tone cutting but light, like a blade wrapped in silk.

He ignored her, pointing to the first chart. “Here is where the population density is highest. If we redistribute—”

“Don’t tell me you’re still sour about what happened in Eden,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice a low hum.

Adam didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance up.

“Eden?” he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him. “What Eden?”

Tilting his head, Lucifer studied Adam like a predator watching wounded prey. “You know. The garden. Paradise.”

“Oh,” Adam said, his tone as dry as ash. “That Eden. No, I don’t think I recall.”

Lilith smirked, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her eyes.

“Come now,” Lucifer said, leaning back lazily. “You don’t remember the apples? The tree?”

“Apples?” Adam asked, arching an eyebrow as though the word itself was laughable. “I’m more of a pear person.”

Laughing, sharp and short, but it didn’t have the bite she’d hoped for.

Lucifer’s grin faltered, just slightly. He straightened in his seat, his golden eyes narrowing.

“And Eve?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

“Who?” Adam asked, tilting his head in mock confusion.

Lucifer’s expression darkened. “Your wife, Adam. The one who bit the fruit and became the mother of humanity? Surely you remember her.”

Adam stared at the chart in front of him as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Can’t say I do,” he said. “Must not have made much of an impression.”

Lilith’s smile twisted, her irritation starting to show. “You’re not very good at pretending, Adam.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend,” he said, finally looking up, his eyes flat and lifeless. “I don’t remember because I don’t care. Now, can we move on to the overpopulation issue, or are we going to sit here dredging up meaningless trivia all day?”

For a moment, the room was silent. Lucifer and Lilith exchanged a glance, their confidence shaken by Adam’s complete detachment.

Leaning forward again, Lucifer’s grin returning, but it was forced now.

“You’ve changed,” he said, his tone laced with faux amusement.

Adam met his gaze, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something cold and unyielding.

“No,” he said quietly. “I just stopped caring.”

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Lucifer leaned back, his smile fading into something more thoughtful, and Lilith shifted in her seat, her sharp edges dulled by unease.

Adam turned back to his charts, his hands steady and sure. He felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness, not even relief. Just a hollow calm that carried him through the motions.

They could jab at him all they wanted. They could bring up Eden, the apple, Eve, all the failures they thought defined him. None of it mattered.

He was just Adam. Just here to do a job.

~#~

The grand hall of Hell was colder than usual, its vast expanse of jagged obsidian and molten gold eerily quiet as Adam stepped through the iron doors. His footfalls echoed, but the absence of Lilith’s pointed laughter or biting remarks gave the space an unfamiliar hollowness.

Adam’s gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on the empty throne beside Lucifer’s. His eyebrows twitched upward for a fleeting second before settling back into their usual indifference. He made a soft hum of acknowledgment, then casually unfurled the scroll of contracts in his hand.

“Well, Your Majesty,” Adam began, his voice as flat as ever. “If we could start—”

“Are you going to ask about her?” Lucifer’s voice was a low growl, the words cutting through the silence like the scrape of a blade.

Adam paused, glancing up at the fallen angel’s sharp, smouldering gaze. “Ask about who?”

Teeth clenching, the muscles in Lucifer’s jaw tightening.

“Lilith,” he hissed. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious?”

Adam blinked; his expression impassive. “No.”

He shrugged, setting the scroll on the obsidian table between them. “I don’t care enough to ask.”

The casual dismissal hit Lucifer like a slap. He rose from his throne, his wings flaring slightly, casting long, jagged shadows against the flickering walls. “You insufferable, self-righteous—”

“Are we doing this or not?” Adam interrupted, his voice carrying the faintest edge of impatience. He gestured to the paperwork. “I’ve got things to do. If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled into the armrests of his throne, his claws scraping the iron. His golden eyes narrowed, burning with a fury Adam didn’t bother to acknowledge. Finally, with a sharp click of his tongue, Lucifer hissed, “You’re really pissing me off, Adam.”

Adam didn’t even flinch. “Then perhaps we should—”

Before he could finish, Lucifer disappeared in a flash of golden flames, the heat licking at the edges of Adam’s sleeves. Adam sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Dramatic as always,” he muttered under his breath. He gathered his papers, turned on his heel, and left.

The next meeting was quieter. No jabs. No sharp comments. Lucifer lounged on his throne, his usual smirk absent, his posture uncharacteristically tense. Adam wasted no time getting to work, spreading the golden parchment Sera had drafted across the table.

“The contract outlines an extermination of souls to ease overcrowding,” Adam began, his tone monotone. “Heaven has already approved—”

“She left,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice soft but strained.

Adam didn’t stop, his eyes scanning the contract as if he hadn’t heard.

“Lilith,” Lucifer continued. “She’s gone. Just got bored of me, I suppose.”

His tone was bitter, but there was an undercurrent of something raw beneath it. “She didn’t say much. Just… left.”

Stiffening, the faintest twitch betraying the crack in Adam’s mask, but he kept talking. “The terms are standard. A simple signature will—”

“She said I wasn’t enough,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. His golden eyes were fixed on Adam, searching, waiting for something—anything—to flicker across his face.

Adam sighed, setting the parchment down. He finally met Lucifer’s gaze; his expression still as unreadable as stone.

“What does this have to do with the contract?” he asked, his voice flat. “The quicker you sign it, the quicker this is over.”

Eyes flickering with anger and something else—hurt, maybe. Lucifer stared at the golden parchment, his lip curling in disdain. “I won’t sign it.”

Adam’s patience was thinning. “Neither of us wants to be here, so—”

Lucifer’s bitter laugh cut him off. “That’s funny. Because I do want to be here.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised for the first time in a long while. But Adam recovered quickly, his tone slipping back into its formal detachment. “Very well, Your Majesty—”

Chair screeching as Lucifer shot to his hooves, fire erupting around him.

“Call me by my name!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like thunder.

Adam stared up at him, unimpressed. “You are the King of Hell,” he said flatly.

Slamming a fist against the table, the impact sending cracks spidering through the obsidian.

“Don’t play this game with me, Adam!” Lucifer snarled. “You know who I am! I’m Lucifer! Lu-ci-fer!”

Adam didn’t flinch. His expression remained blank, disinterested, even as Lucifer’s fury blazed hotter.

“You were my friend once!” Lucifer bellowed, his eyes flaring blood-red, his horns curling upward as if they were reaching for the heavens. “Do you even remember what that means? Do you remember us? Do you remember Eden?”

Folding his arms, Lucifer’s gaze cold and unmoved.

“Eden?” he repeated, his voice like a dagger wrapped in frost. “Never heard of it.”

Lucifer’s wings flared wide, and his voice rose to a near scream. “It was our home! Our home! You and I—we in it together! We were supposed to be everything!”

Meeting his blood-red gaze without a hint of fear, Adam’s tone colder than Lucifer’s fire was hot. “And yet here we are.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucifer’s chest heaved, his fiery aura flickering, but Adam remained still, a glacier unmoved by the storm.

Lucifer sank back into his throne, his horns receding, his eyes dimming. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Adam picked up the parchment, holding it out. “The contract, Your Majesty.”

Glaring at him but said nothing. The fire in Lucifer’s eyes burned low, smouldering with something heavier than anger.

He didn’t sign it that day.

~#~

The air in Hell’s grand hall was heavy with tension as Adam entered again, his steps slow and deliberate. Lucifer was already lounging on his throne, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his golden goblet glinting in the dim light. The contract lay untouched on the obsidian table between them, just as it had been at every other meeting. Adam’s eyes barely flicked toward it before he set his jaw and approached.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, placing another copy of the parchment before Lucifer. “The extermination initiative—”

Waving a dismissive hand, cutting him off. Lucifer sighed. “Let’s not start with all that boring drivel, Adam. I’ve got time today. Do you?”

Exhaling quietly through his nose, a faint tick betraying his irritation, but Adam maintained his calm façade. “The contract—”

“Do you really not care about Eden anymore?” Lucifer asked, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

Pausing, Adam’s fingers twitching as they hovered over the document. Slowly, he looked up. “Eden is… irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

Laughing softly, the sound carrying a strange mixture of bitterness and fondness. Lucifer smirked, “Irrelevant? You loved Eden, Adam. I remember how your eyes would light up when you showed me your latest discoveries. Every new flower, every creature, every little thing—it was like seeing the world through your eyes for the first time.”

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, though his grip on the parchment tightened ever so slightly. “If you’re not going to sign the contract, we can—”

“You used to drag me all over that garden,” Lucifer continued, ignoring him entirely. His eyes glimmered with distant memories, glowing red and gold as he stared through Adam like he was looking at a ghost. “You’d get so excited whenever I came to visit. Remember? You’d grab my hand and pull me to show off some ridiculous little plant or how you’d taught a bird to sit on your shoulder.”

Adam’s voice was as flat as stone. “I don’t recall.”

Lucifer grinned faintly, his eyes narrowing with amusement, though there was a flicker of frustration behind them. “Don’t recall? I spent days with you at the beginning—night and day, making sure you didn’t poison yourself or drown yourself.”

He leaned forward, his voice warming. “You were so innocent. So sweet. So… human.”

“I’m still human,” Adam replied coolly, adjusting the golden feathered quill in his hand. “And this is still a waste of time. If you won’t—”

Gaze sharpened, Lucifer’s grin growing wolfish. “I taught you how to care for wings, remember? You surely used my technique on your wings?”

His tone turned teasing. “You couldn’t stop touching mine, asking a million questions. You were obsessed with the way they shimmered in the sun.”

Adam’s golden wings shifted slightly behind him, but his expression remained frozen.

“Sera taught me to care for my wings,” he said curtly. “I don’t remember an angel in Eden. Certainly not one who would let me touch their wings.”

The shift in Lucifer’s demeanour was immediate. His face darkened, his lips twisting into a sour frown. His gaze bore into Adam, intense and almost pleading, but Adam didn’t flinch.

“I was in Eden,” Lucifer snapped, his voice low and sharp. “I was your archangel. Your guardian. How can you pretend I wasn’t there?”

Shrugging, Adam’s tone dismissive. “Because you weren’t?” He said it like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child.

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly as the temperature in the room spiked. His claws tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his throne.

“Then how,” he hissed, his voice dangerously quiet, “Did you get that scar on your thigh?”

Adam’s composure faltered, just for a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked to Lucifer, then down to the table, before settling back on the contract. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Inching forward, Lucifer’s fiery gaze locking onto Adam like a predator cornering its prey.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “You fell down a cliff. Scraped your leg open on a jagged rock. I was the one who healed you.”

His voice rose slightly, tinged with anger. “Do you remember that, Adam? Your first taste of pain?”

Adam’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone neutral. “I don’t remember falling,” he said simply.

Lucifer’s wings flared wider, his patience fraying.

“You cried for hours!” he snapped. “You couldn’t understand what had happened to you, why you were bleeding, why it hurt. I carried you back to the spring and healed you myself.”

His voice softened slightly, almost pleading. “You trusted me, Adam. Do you really not remember?”

Adam finally looked up, his face impassive but his eyes faintly cold.

“I remember plenty,” he said flatly. “But not you.”

Recoiling slightly as if the words had struck him. Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his fiery gaze bore into Adam’s unflinching mask.

For a long moment, the hall was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then Lucifer leaned back in his throne, his expression twisting into something bitter and raw.

“Of course,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you?”

Adam picked up the quill again, his focus returning to the contract. “If you’re done reminiscing, perhaps we can proceed with the matter at hand.”

Lucifer didn’t respond. His wings folded tightly against his back, and he stared at the parchment with a glare that could melt stone.

He didn’t sign it. Again.

~#~

The grand hall was eerily silent when Adam entered, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Lucifer was already there, sprawled across his throne with a confidence that felt exaggerated, almost theatrical. The obsidian table between them bore the familiar contract, but Adam didn’t bother expecting progress. He strode forward, his demeanour calm and professional, placing the golden quill beside the parchment before sitting down.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, his tone flat and businesslike, “the extermination contract. Heaven’s representatives are still awaiting—”

Lucifer cut him off with a gleeful chuckle, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Adam, must you be so boring every time? We have centuries together, yet you insist on skipping the pleasantries.”

Adam blinked slowly, unimpressed. “Pleasantries won’t sign the contract.”

Ignoring the quip, Lucifer’s grin widening like a Cheshire cat’s. “Let’s talk about something more interesting—like Lilith.”

Adam’s expression didn’t flicker, though he adjusted his posture slightly, folding his hands in his lap. Lucifer took the silence as an invitation to continue, his voice practically dripping with smugness.

“You do remember Lilith, don’t you?” Lucifer asked, his grin sharp and mocking. “The first woman? Your first wife?”

Adam tilted his head, a faint crease forming between his brows as though he were searching his memory.

“I remember… another woman,” he said slowly, his tone detached. “But I can’t say what her name was or why she left. If she did leave, though, I suppose it was for the best.”

Freezing, Lucifer’s smirk faltering. “For the best?” he echoed, his voice incredulous.

Adam shrugged. “I don’t even remember her, so she mustn’t have been very important.”

The words struck Lucifer like a slap, and his smugness dissolved into irritation. His wings twitched, his claws tapping against the armrest.

“She was important,” he snapped. “She left because of you. You were cruel to her, dismissive, demanding—don’t you remember what you put her through?”

Adam looked at him evenly, his face an unmoving mask of neutrality. He waited for Lucifer’s rant to burn itself out before cocking his head slightly, as though observing a child mid-tantrum.

“Are you finished?”

Lucifer blinked, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically unsure. He slumped back into his throne, glaring at Adam. “Do you really not feel anything for Lilith?”

Adam shrugged again; his expression unreadable. “Obviously not. I don’t even remember her.” He paused, tilting his head. “You mean the queen, right?”

Lucifer nodded stiffly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then no,” Adam continued smoothly, “I don’t remember meeting the queen before these meetings.”

Lucifer let out a frustrated huff, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—a flicker of desperation, perhaps. He leaned forward again, his voice softening as he pressed on.

“Lilith and I… we spent so much time together in Eden. Sneaking around, giggling, learning, experiencing everything for the first time.” His tone turned smug again, though there was a nervous edge to it. “We had so much fun, Adam. You… must remember that?”

Adam sighed, shifting his weight slightly. “I really don’t care what the king did with his queen. It’s not my concern.”

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly. “Of course it’s your concern! She was your wife!”

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together as though trying to make sense of the words.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” he asked, his tone flat and almost bored. “If what you’re saying is true, then you haven’t been much of a friend.”

Lucifer stiffened, his smug demeanour cracking. “What do you mean?”

Adam rolled his eyes slightly, twirling a finger in the air as if outlining the obvious. “Let’s say, for your sake, that your story is true. You just admitted to me that you—my supposed best friend—went out of your way to teach me betrayal. To show me what it felt like to be cheated on.”

He paused, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. “Imagine. My wife and my best friend.”

Lucifer sat in stunned silence, the words visibly sinking in. His claws dug into his knees, his wings trembling slightly as he stared at Adam with wide eyes.

“That’s… the truth,” he murmured finally, his voice quiet and almost hollow. “I’m a terrible friend.”

Adam’s gaze didn’t waver. “But hey,” he said dryly, “None of that actually happened, so who cares?”

Lucifer’s head snapped up, his golden eyes blazing. “It did happen!” he hissed. “And it should matter!”

Adam shook his head, his expression calm and disinterested.

“Not to me.” He pushed the contract forward again. “Now, about the extermination initiative—”

Lucifer ignored the parchment entirely, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something fragile.

“Did you… really hurt her?” he asked softly. “Like she claims?”

Adam looked at him sharply, his brows raising in faint disbelief.

“You know,” he said slowly, “for someone who claims to be my best friend once, to have known everything about me, you should already know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?”

The words hit Lucifer like a physical blow. He stiffened, his claws digging deeper into his knees, his wings shuddering as the weight of Adam’s words sank in. For a moment, he looked almost small, his fiery arrogance dimming.

Adam waited a beat, then tilted his head, his tone turning brisk and professional again. “Are you ready to focus on the contract now, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his wide eyes fixed on Adam as though searching for something—anything—beneath his impenetrable mask. But Adam simply stared back, calm and unmoved, until Lucifer finally slumped back into his throne, defeated and silent.

He doesn’t sign the contract then either.

~#~

Adam sat across from Sera in Heaven’s towering council chamber, his face calm but his wings faintly drooping with frustration. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, her eyes sharp as they bore into him.

"Adam," Sera began, her voice firm. "Why is this taking so long? The extermination contract should’ve been signed weeks ago."

Adam sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. "The King is being... difficult."

Sera raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

"He keeps wanting to go down memory lane," Adam said, his tone flat. "It’s always something about Eden, or Lilith, or Eve. He’s fixated on the past, and it has nothing to do with the task at hand."

Sera leaned forward, her tone clipped and impatient. "Then give him what he wants. Humour him. Anything to get this over with."

Adam frowned, crossing his arms. "I’m not going to play his games, Sera. This is about Heaven’s decree, not indulging the King of Hell’s nostalgia."

Sera huffed, but didn’t press further. She dismissed him with a wave, muttering something about how things always became messy when the traitor was involved. Adam left the chamber with his shoulders squared, but the weight of her impatience still lingered as he prepared for yet another meeting.

The grand hall was quieter than usual when Adam entered for his next session with Lucifer. The atmosphere felt heavier, and it immediately struck him that Lucifer wasn’t his usual smug self. Instead, the King of Hell sat slumped on his throne, his golden eyes dim, his expression unreadable.

Adam hesitated briefly before walking to the table and unfurling the parchment.

"Your Majesty," he began in his usual calm tone, "I’ve revised the extermination proposal to address—"

Lucifer raised a hand, cutting him off. For a moment, he simply stared at Adam, his cheek resting on his palm, his expression weary. Then he spoke, his voice soft and almost sorrowful.

"Do you know about Eve? About what I did?"

Adam’s pen paused mid-motion, but he didn’t look up.

"It doesn’t matter," he said simply, returning his attention to the parchment. "Let’s focus on the contract."

Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose, sitting up straighter.

"I’m worse than a bad friend," he said bitterly. "I’m a scumbag."

Adam finally looked at him, his brows knitting in faint confusion. "What are you talking about now?"

Lucifer’s claws tapped against the armrest of his throne, his gaze hardening. "The apple…The apple of knowledge. I gave it to Eve. And afterward… I had sex with her."

Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he clicked his tongue. "This means nothing to me. Why are you so keen to tell me these stories?"

"They’re not stories," Lucifer snapped, leaning forward. "They happened. And they should matter to you!"

Adam shrugged helplessly. "They don’t. I only care about the contract."

Lucifer ignored him, his voice growing louder, more desperate. "I lured Eve to the tree. Told her about the world outside Eden. Told her she was Heaven’s puppet. I offered her freedom. I offered her the apple, and she was so eager to take it. And after—"

"Your Majesty," Adam interrupted, his wings shifting as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Please. Can we just get back to—"

Lucifer slammed his fist on the armrest, his voice trembling. "I betrayed you, Adam. I betrayed you in every way possible."

He rubbed his face, his claws dragging over his skin. His voice cracked as he went on. "I didn’t just betray you with Eve. I betrayed you with Lilith, too. I helped her cheat on you—with me. Your best friend. Your guardian angel."

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, but his chest tightened painfully at the words. He kept his face blank, refusing to let any emotion show.

Lucifer laughed bitterly, his hands trembling as he looked down at them. "I should’ve known it was all lies. The moment Lilith told me you were hurting her, bossing her around—I should’ve known. You wouldn’t even know how to do that. You were pure, untouched by sin. There were no sins in Eden."

He looked up at Adam, his golden eyes glassy. "And I failed you. I failed as your friend, as your guardian angel. I believed her lies because of my own pride. I didn’t question her. I didn’t think. I just… gave in."

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with shame. "I stained you with Lilith. I stained you with Eve. I stained everything I touched. I’m a terrible friend, Adam. A terrible guardian. And I’m so sorry."

Adam’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to remain still. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but he wouldn’t allow himself to break. He cleared his throat softly and said, "If I accept your apology, will you be serious?"

Frowning, Lucifer’s wings shifting uneasily. "I am being serious."

Shaking his head, Adam gestured to the parchment between them. "Then sign the contract."

Lucifer’s expression darkened, his sharp teeth bared as he hissed, "Is the contract all you care about?"

"Obviously." Adam snorted softly.

Lucifer let out a growl, his claws digging into the table. "I’ve had enough of this game, Adam! I get it, okay? I’m a shitty angel. A shitty friend. Just… shitty in general. But come on!"

His voice cracked, and his wings drooped. "Enough’s enough!"

Adam didn’t react to Lucifer’s outburst, his face calm and dull. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the storm to pass.

Once Lucifer’s anger burned itself out, he slumped in his throne, staring at Adam with wide, almost pleading eyes. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Finally, Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, quiet and trembling.

"Do you seriously not care about anything?"

Adam looked at him steadily. "I care about one thing."

Lucifer’s face fell, his shoulders slumping further.

"It’s not the contract," he muttered bitterly. "You don’t care about the contract."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, then?"

Lucifer’s golden eyes glistened as he stared at Adam, his voice breaking. "I want you, Adam. I want my Adam back."

Adam rolled his eyes, his tone flat. "You are acting childish."

Lucifer shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know I’ve fucked up. I know I have a lot to make up for. But please… please, Adam, stop this game. It’s killing me."

Adam said nothing, only pushing the contract forward again. Lucifer stared at him for a long moment before golden flames erupted around him, and he disappeared without another word.

Adam sat alone in the grand hall, his chest tight, his wings heavy. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then, with a shake of his head, he rose and left the room.

Adam barely made it to the quiet sanctuary of his chamber before the dam broke. As soon as the heavy door shut behind him, sealing him off from the endless corridors of Heaven and the prying eyes of the angels, he crumpled to his knees. His wings drooped low, their golden feathers dragging against the pristine floor.

The first sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. It was raw, ugly, and filled with years of pain he thought he’d buried deep enough to forget. But Lucifer’s words from their meeting echoed endlessly in his mind.

"I failed you."

"I betrayed you."

"I stained everything I touched."

Adam clutched at his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robes as though trying to dig out the ache that burned there. It hurt—a deep, soul-crushing hurt that he couldn’t suppress anymore.

Lucifer’s confessions had ripped open old wounds Adam hadn’t even realized were still there. He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel anything for the King of Hell. But hearing Lucifer lay himself bare like that—seeing the raw guilt and sorrow in his golden eyes—it was unbearable.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden and sharp. He remembered Lilith’s laughter, her soft voice, the way she used to press her hand to his chest as though she could feel his heartbeat. He remembered the warmth of Lucifer’s wings as they shielded him from Eden’s rains, the way the archangel had always been there to steady him when he stumbled.

And then, he remembered the betrayals. Lilith’s coldness as she left him for Lucifer. Lucifer’s smug grin the first time he had bragged about it. Eve’s wide, curious eyes as she stepped closer to the forbidden tree, her hand reaching for the apple.

Adam’s sobs grew louder, shaking his entire body. His wings twitched and trembled, the golden feathers ruffling as though they shared his pain. It wasn’t just the betrayals that hurt. It was the weight of it all. The weight of knowing he was supposed to be the first, the purest, the perfect creation. And yet, all he’d ever was a pawn in someone else’s games.

His fists slammed against the floor, the impact sending dull echoes through the room.

"Why?" he choked out, his voice thick with tears. "Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?"

He hated Lucifer in that moment. Hated him for dredging up the past, for forcing Adam to remember things he didn’t want to remember. But more than that, he hated himself for still caring.

“Why couldn’t you have just gone alone with the game?”

The tears wouldn’t stop. They poured down his face, soaking the floor beneath him as his sobs wracked his body. He felt raw, exposed, as though every part of him had been torn open and left to bleed.

How much longer could he take this? How many more meetings could he endure before he shattered completely?

He pressed his forehead to the cool floor, his wings splayed out around him in a mess of gold and white.

"It’s too much," he whispered brokenly. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore."

But he had to.

Sera was counting on him. Heaven was counting on him. And no matter how much it hurt—no matter how much Lucifer’s words ripped him apart—Adam couldn’t let them see him falter.

After what felt like hours, his sobs began to quiet, though the ache in his chest remained. He wiped at his face with shaking hands, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to compose himself.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. His wings twitched, and he forced them to fold neatly behind his back, though the effort made his muscles ache.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room. His eyes were red, his face pale, and his hair dishevelled. He looked like a man on the brink of breaking.

But he couldn’t break. Not yet.

Straightening his robes, Adam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He wiped the lingering tears from his face, forcing his expression back into the calm, stoic mask he’d worn for so long.

The pain was still there, sharp and suffocating, but he shoved it down. He had a job to do.

His pain could wait.

~#~

The moment Adam stepped into the throne room, he knew something was…off. Lucifer was sprawled sideways across his throne, one leg dangling over the armrest, and a half-empty bottle clutched loosely in his hand. His grin was wide and childlike, eyes half-lidded and gleaming with a mischievous light.

"Adam!" Lucifer exclaimed, his voice slurring slightly as he waved the bottle in greeting. "It's been forever!"

Adam stopped in his tracks, his wings twitching behind him.

"It’s been three days," he said, frowning.

Lucifer cackled, the sound rich and full, echoing in the cavernous space. "Forever!" he insisted, dragging out the word as he swung his legs around to sit upright—barely. He swayed dangerously and only just caught himself on the arm of the throne.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. "Are you… drunk?"

Lucifer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest like Adam had just stabbed him. "Me? Drunk? How dare you insinuate such a thing, Adam!"

He tried to look offended but immediately broke into a wide grin. "Okay, maybe just a little."

He held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

Adam stared at him, baffled. He’d never seen anyone drunk before, let alone Lucifer in such a state. Heaven didn’t have alcohol—there was no reason for it. And yet, here was the King of Hell, giggling like a child and swinging a bottle of what smelled suspiciously like something sweet and fermented.

"Your majesty," Adam began cautiously, "We have business to discuss. This contract—"

"Business, business, business!" Lucifer interrupted, waving his hand dramatically as if to physically push Adam’s words away. He sat up straighter—or tried to—and pointed at Adam with the neck of the bottle. "You’ve got to read it to me! I wanna hear your angel voice say all those long, boring words. It’s so cute!"

Adam blinked. "You want me to read—?"

"Yes! Read it! Read it!" Lucifer chanted, giggling uncontrollably.

Sighing, Adam unrolled the parchment and began to read aloud, his voice even and measured. But every time he said something particularly formal or legal-sounding, Lucifer erupted into giggles, his hand covering his mouth like a mischievous child.

"Clause thirty-two subsection B states—"

"Pfft! Subsection!" Lucifer wheezed, doubling over and nearly toppling off his throne.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience fraying.

"You’re drunk," he said flatly.

Lucifer gasped again, this time more dramatically than before.

"I am not!" he declared, though his lopsided grin and glassy eyes betrayed him. He leaned forward, his face inches from Adam’s.

"Okay, maybe I am. Just a little," he admitted, his grin turning sheepish. "But that’s only because it makes me feel better."

Adam’s brows furrowed. "Feel better about what?"

Lucifer didn’t answer. Instead, he reached behind his throne and, with a flourish, produced another bottle. He held it out to Adam. "Here. You should try it!"

Adam raised an eyebrow and pushed the bottle away. "No, thank you."

Lucifer huffed, setting the bottle aside and slumping forward onto the table between them. He rested his chin in his hands, staring up at Adam with a dreamy smile.

"You’re so serious all the time now," he said, his voice softer but still tinged with that drunken lilt. "It’s not fair."

Adam crossed his arms. "What’s not fair?"

Lucifer sat up suddenly, pointing at him with a pout. "Before, we used to snuggle! Under the sun, under the moon! You used to play with my wings and my hair! You loved my hair!"

Adam froze, his wings twitching nervously.

"That… never happened," he said stiffly.

"It did!" Lucifer insisted, his voice rising in pitch as he nearly climbed onto the table. "You’d brush my feathers and laugh at my stupid jokes and—oh!"

His attention shifted abruptly to Adam’s golden wings, his eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.

Before Adam could react, Lucifer was reaching out, his fingers tangling gently in the soft, shimmering feathers.

"Your wings," Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with awe. He ran his fingers through them, his touch light and teasing. "So beautiful. Are they as sensitive as mine?"

Adam jerked away, his wings folding tightly against his back.

"Your majesty," he said warningly.

But Lucifer only pouted, ducking under Adam’s arm and pushing himself into his lap. Adam stiffened, completely frozen as Lucifer wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"You don’t love me anymore," Lucifer mumbled, his voice muffled against Adam’s chest.

Adam blinked, utterly at a loss.

"Your breath stinks," he said flatly, his tone the only defence he had against the absurdity of the situation.

Lucifer pulled back just enough to grin up at him, his face far too close.

"You used to like my hugs," he said, his tone playful but tinged with sadness.

Adam opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut when Lucifer began to purr—a soft, rumbling sound that was entirely unexpected. Adam stared down at him, his mind racing for a way to handle the drunk, overly affectionate King of Hell currently snuggled against him.

Lucifer’s grin widened as he nuzzled closer, his purring growing louder.

"Missed this," he murmured, his voice thick with drunken sincerity.

Adam sighed deeply, his wings twitching with barely restrained frustration. "Your Majesty, you’re drunk. And ridiculous."

"And adorable," Lucifer added, giggling.

Adam didn’t respond, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out how to extract himself from the situation. But as Lucifer’s purring softened and his grip around Adam loosened, Adam realized the King had fallen asleep.

For a moment, Adam just sat there, staring down at Lucifer’s peaceful face. His heart ached, but he shoved the feeling aside.

"Ridiculous," he muttered again, carefully shifting Lucifer off his lap and onto the table. Lucifer barely stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before snuggling into the smooth surface.

Adam stood, straightening his robes and wings with a sigh. This was going to be a long negotiation.

Clearly, Lucifer did not sign the fucking contract that day either.

~#~

The tension in the air was thick as Adam entered the meeting room, his steps slow and deliberate. His golden wings drooped slightly, betraying his exhaustion. He had endured over a year of these tiresome meetings with Lucifer, each one feeling more like a test of his patience than a genuine negotiation. The King of Hell refused to take anything seriously, flitting between drunken antics and cryptic ramblings. Adam’s patience was wearing thin, and Sera’s growing frustration with him only added to his burden.

This time, however, as Adam stepped into the room, the sight that greeted him was unexpectedly… mundane.

Lucifer sat at the table, two steaming cups of tea before him, his demeanour oddly calm. His piercing eyes lit up when he spotted Adam, and he gestured grandly to the tea.

"Adam!" Lucifer chirped. "Perfect timing. I’ve prepared tea!"

Adam froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the setup.

"Tea?" he repeated, his voice flat.

"Green tea, to be specific," Lucifer said cheerfully, lifting his own cup and inhaling the fragrant steam with exaggerated delight.

Adam stared at him, his exhaustion mingling with disbelief. "Are you drunk again?"

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest as though Adam had insulted his very existence.

"Drunk? Me? No, no, no! I’m as sober as a judge," he declared, then winked. "Well, maybe not one of Hell’s judges, but you get the idea. It’s tea, Adam. Harmless, non-poisoned, entirely respectable tea."

Adam’s sceptical gaze shifted to the cups. "Non-poisoned," he echoed.

Lucifer leaned forward, grinning like a cat. "One little tea with me isn’t going to hurt anyone, angel."

Adam sighed, the weight of the past year pressing down on him. Against his better judgment, he sat down and picked up the tea. He took a cautious sip, and though he refused to acknowledge it aloud, the tea was… surprisingly good.

Lucifer beamed, watching Adam drink as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "See? No explosions, no hexes, no sneaky curses. Just good tea and good company."

Adam set the cup down with a soft clink and straightened his posture.

"Enough distractions," he said, his tone firm. "Let’s discuss the contract."

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and cradling his tea.

"Actually," he said, interrupting Adam before he could dive into the terms, "I want to add something."

Adam blinked, his wings twitching.

"You want to add something?" he repeated, his disbelief evident.

Lucifer nodded, his smile warm and genuine, catching Adam off guard. "Yep. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now."

For a moment, Adam was at a loss for words. In over a year of meetings, Lucifer had never once shown interest in altering or even acknowledging the contract’s terms. His sudden change of heart was… unexpected.

"Like what?" Adam asked, his tone cautious.

Lucifer took a leisurely sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Adam. The intensity of his gaze made Adam grunt softly and take another sip of his own tea, as if the act might shield him from the King’s scrutiny.

This seemed to please Lucifer, who chuckled softly before finally answering. "I want to add a clause that states Heaven isn’t allowed to touch the Hellborns during the Extermination."

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together. "The Hellborns?"

Lucifer nodded, his expression unusually serious. "They have no part in this war between Heaven and Hell. They’re innocents, Adam. This mess between us is our fault, not theirs."

Adam stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the sly smirk, or the teasing remark that would reveal Lucifer’s true intent. But none came. The King of Hell seemed completely sincere.

After a moment, Adam nodded slowly. "I’ll run it past Sera…But I can’t imagine her rejecting the condition."

Lucifer’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, his cheerfulness returning in full force.

As Adam made a note of the amendment, Lucifer leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Adam with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know," Lucifer began, his tone light and teasing, "This tea really suits you. The golden glow of your wings, the calm, regal way you sip it… you’re practically a painting come to life."

Adam glanced at him, unimpressed.

"You’re being ridiculous," he said, returning his focus to the parchment.

Lucifer grinned. "Am I? Or am I just appreciating the finer things in life?"

Adam didn’t respond, his attention firmly on the contract.

Undeterred, Lucifer continued, his voice softening. "You know, back in Eden, I always thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot, Adam, I’d truly like to have a closer look someday.”

The words went straight over Adam’s head, as they always did, and he simply hummed in acknowledgment without looking up.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew Adam wouldn’t catch on immediately, but the anticipation of Adam eventually realizing the meaning behind his words was a delight in itself.

"One day, you’ll figure it out," Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea with a contented sigh.

For now, he was happy to play the long game.

~#~

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm shadows on the ornate table set with a spread of fruits, bread, and cheeses. It was absurd, and Adam knew it. Meetings with Lucifer had become increasingly ridiculous, but this one took the prize. Candles? Food? Was this some kind of prank?

Lucifer sat across from Adam, lounging with a lazy grin on his face, looking far too pleased with himself. He reached for a grape, popping it into his mouth as his crimson eyes glimmered with mischief.

"Are we really doing this?" Adam muttered, his golden wings shifting as he glanced at the table in exasperation.

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Why not? You’re always so stiff, Adam. Meetings don’t have to be boring. Relax for once."

Adam frowned, the corner of his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep his composure. "I’m here for business, not… whatever this is."

Lucifer sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "You wound me. I go through all this trouble, and you call it whatever this is?"

He gestured at the table, his fingers trailing dramatically through the candlelight.

Adam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Lucifer cut him off.

"Wait, wait," the King said, his grin widening. "I have an idea. Let’s play a game."

"A game?" Adam echoed, sceptical.

"Twenty questions!" Lucifer declared, clapping his hands together. "I ask a question, then you, and so on. Simple, harmless, and you might even have fun."

Adam’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Or, we could finish the contract."

Lucifer whined, reaching across the table to grab Adam’s hand. His touch was warm, his claws tracing light circles over Adam’s skin.

"Please," he whispered, his voice soft and pleading.

Adam’s frown deepened, his golden eyes narrowing at the King’s unrelenting smile. Despite himself, he sighed deeply and sank back into his chair.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only to get this over with."

Lucifer purred, his grin so wide it almost looked innocent.

"Wonderful!" He leaned forward, practically buzzing with excitement. "I’ll start. What’s your favourite colour?"

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. After a moment, he muttered, "Blue."

Lucifer’s smile softened. "I thought so," he murmured. "It suits you."

Adam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your turn, then. What’s your favourite colour?"

Lucifer laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Green," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," Adam said, blinking.

The game continued, the questions starting out sweet and innocent. Lucifer asked Adam about his favourite flowers (he didn’t have one, he loved them all) and favourite food (he didn’t really eat). Adam, in turn, simply repeated Lucifer’s questions back to him, unsure of how else to participate.

Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed delighted by Adam’s awkwardness, his grin never faltering.

But then, the questions shifted.

"Have you been in a relationship since Eve?" Lucifer asked, his tone light, but his eyes watching Adam closely.

Adam frowned slightly, the question catching him off guard.

"No," he said honestly. "I haven’t been in a relationship ever."

Lucifer tilted his head, a soft, almost sad sound escaping his lips.

Adam, feeling obligated, asked, "Have you been in a relationship since the Queen left?"

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his grin turning sly.

"Nope," he said, popping the "p" for emphasis. "I don’t want any repeats."

Adam blinked, confused. "Repeats?" he asked.

Lucifer shifted closer, his fingers tracing faint lines over Adam’s arm, the touch sending an odd shiver through the angel’s body. His voice dropped into a low, teasing tone.

"I’m only interested in one of a kind," he said, his eyes locking onto Adam’s, “The first, you could say.”

Adam leaned away, his frown deepening. "You’re the weirdest king ever," he said flatly.

Lucifer laughed, his grin nothing short of radiant. "Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the flickering candlelight dancing between them. Then, Lucifer’s expression softened, his gaze turning almost wistful.

"You know, Adam," he said quietly, "it’s been almost two years. And you still won’t call me by my name."

Adam frowned, confused. "You’re the King of Hell. Why would I—"

Lucifer pouted, the expression oddly endearing.

"I miss the way you used to say my name," he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Adam shook his head, unsure how to respond. He felt an odd tightness in his chest, but he quickly shoved the feeling aside.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, reaching for his tea again.

Lucifer only smiled, his gaze lingering on Adam as though he were the only thing in the room that mattered.

“Let’s eat Adam, I made ribs for you~”

“I don’t eat meat,” Adam grunted.

Lucifer paused in thought. He didn’t know that. It made sense.

So, Adam’s a vegetarian?

~#~

The next meeting caught Adam off guard the moment he stepped into the chamber. The table was spread with an elaborate feast, a stunning array of vegetarian dishes carefully plated like works of art. Brightly coloured fruits shimmered like jewels, crisp salads were adorned with edible flowers, and warm loaves of bread sat beside steaming bowls of soup. The centrepiece was a towering platter of roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned and garnished with herbs.

Adam stopped in his tracks, his golden wings twitching slightly as he stared at the display. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he turned his gaze to Lucifer, who stood nearby, beaming like a proud artist unveiling his masterpiece.

"As a vegetarian," Lucifer announced with a flourish, "I’ve prepared the best for you~"

His crimson eyes twinkled with mischief, and his voice was thick with pride.

Adam tilted his head, staring at Lucifer as if trying to decipher some grand puzzle.

"You’re a vegetarian?" he asked slowly.

Lucifer chuckled, shrugging with mock modesty. "Of course! I couldn’t possibly harm a single creature. It would ruin my delicate charm." He winked.

Adam didn’t even try to hide his scepticism. "I’m beginning to see these meetings are becoming... weird," he muttered, folding his arms.

Lucifer snickered, crossing the room to stand beside Adam. "Weird?”

“Weird in what way?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a softness in his gaze.

Adam didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the food, his stomach betraying him with a low growl. It did look good. More than good. The spread reminded him of the vibrant, abundant meals he and Eve used to share in Eden before… before everything fell apart.

Lucifer, ever perceptive, leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful purr. "Please, Addie~" The nickname rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, it made Adam’s wings twitch. "Please try my cooking! I’m sure you’ll like it. And I’ve made some beautiful pancakes for dessert."

He gestured dramatically toward the corner of the table, where a stack of golden-brown pancakes rested, dripping with syrup and adorned with fresh berries.

Adam sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First of all, stop calling me that," he grumbled. But when he glanced up at Lucifer, the King’s wide, hopeful grin made it hard to hold onto his irritation.

Lucifer clasped his hands together, swaying slightly. "But it suits you so well! Addie sounds so sweet, just like you~"

Adam rolled his eyes, his face heating slightly despite himself.

"Second," he said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track, "We’re supposed to be discussing the contract, not… indulging in whatever this is."

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Business can wait. You look like you haven’t eaten in centuries. Come on, Adam. Just a bite?"

He stepped closer, grabbing a plate and holding it out like an offering. His grin softened into something gentler, almost pleading. "For me?"

Adam hesitated, his golden eyes narrowing. But the aroma wafting from the table was too tempting, and his stomach protested loudly again. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he grabbed the plate from Lucifer’s hands.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only because you won’t shut up about it."

Lucifer’s entire face lit up as he watched Adam sit down and reach for the nearest dish. The angel piled his plate with roasted vegetables and fruit, poking at the food with his fork as if expecting a trap. Lucifer sat across from him, chin resting on his hands, watching with an almost childlike anticipation.

Adam raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stare at me the entire time?"

Lucifer smirked, not even trying to deny it. "Maybe. You’re adorable when you’re flustered."

Adam ignored him, taking a bite of the roasted vegetables. The flavours hit his tongue like a revelation—perfectly balanced, rich yet light, with just the right amount of seasoning. He blinked, caught off guard by how good it tasted.

Lucifer’s grin widened. "Well? What do you think?"

Adam chewed slowly, swallowing before muttering, "It’s… fine."

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Fine? Just fine? That’s the best you can do?"

"It’s food," Adam said flatly, though he couldn’t hide the slight twitch of his lips. He reached for more vegetables, trying to focus on his plate and not on the way Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with delight.

As the meal continued, Lucifer chatted away, his voice light and teasing. He asked Adam about his favourite foods, about his memories of Eden, about anything that came to mind. Adam, still wary, answered in clipped sentences, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind.

When they reached dessert, Lucifer slid the plate of pancakes toward Adam with a flourish.

"And now," he declared, "the pièce de résistance."

Adam eyed the pancakes warily before cutting into them with his fork. He took a small bite, and his eyes widened slightly. They were… perfect. Fluffy, sweet, and melt-in-your-mouth good.

Lucifer leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Adam.

"You like them," he said softly, his tone more serious now.

Adam paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He looked at Lucifer, who was gazing at him with an intensity that made his chest tighten. "They’re… good," he admitted.

Lucifer’s smile softened, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I’m glad," he said quietly.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Adam shifted uncomfortably, his golden wings twitching as he focused on his plate.

"Next time, I’ll make something even better. Maybe I’ll teach you how to cook!" Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, light and teasing again

Adam groaned, shaking his head. "There isn’t going to be a next time."

Lucifer just laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We’ll see, Addie. We’ll see."

Later, Adam stood in the grand chamber of Heaven’s council, his golden wings folded tightly against his back as he faced Sera, whose cold, steely gaze seemed to pierce through him. The light of Heaven filtered in through the crystalline windows, casting shimmering reflections across the marble floors, but the warmth of it was lost on Adam. Sera’s displeasure was tangible, and the weight of it pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“It has been three years, Adam,” Sera said, her voice sharp and unyielding. She stood behind a towering desk, her silver wings spread wide, a sign of both her authority and her frustration. “Three years, and we have seen no progress on this matter.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably; his hands clasped in front of him as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Sera,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with weariness, “Lucifer is being… unreasonable. Every meeting is—”

Sera cut him off with a raised hand, her icy glare silencing him instantly. “Do not make excuses, Adam. It is your duty to secure his agreement. You were chosen for this task because of your… connection to him.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “That connection doesn’t exist anymore,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then rebuild it,” Sera snapped, her tone cutting through the air like a blade. She stepped around the desk, her robes billowing as she moved closer to him. “You are an angel of Heaven, Adam. You were created for a purpose, and you will fulfil it. That traitor’s antics are no excuse for your failure. He may be the King of Hell, but he is not above persuasion. You simply aren’t trying hard enough.”

Adam’s wings twitched, and he glanced away, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but firm. “He’s not just being difficult—he’s acting… strange. These meetings aren’t about the contract to him. He doesn’t take it seriously. He cooks meals, he laughs and talks with me, he—”

“Flirts?” Sera’s eyebrow arched, her tone laced with disbelief and disapproval.

Adam felt his face heat slightly, and he cleared his throat. “That’s not the point. The point is, he’s using these meetings to… distract me. To toy with me. He’s not acting like a king or a ruler—he’s acting…”

“Like the Angel you once knew?” Sera interjected, her voice quieter now but no less pointed.

Adam froze, his golden eyes snapping to hers.

Sera’s gaze softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Whatever game that traitor is playing, it is your responsibility to rise above it. He is trying to delay, to manipulate you. You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by his charm or his tricks.”

“I’m not,” Adam said quickly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

Sera sighed deeply, turning away from him and gazing out the window at the endless expanse of Heaven. “This contract is not just a document, Adam. It is a pact that will shape the balance between Heaven and Hell for eternity. Every moment you delay, more souls are lost. Do you understand the gravity of this task?”

Adam lowered his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“Then act like it,” Sera said sharply, turning back to him. “You cannot let your history with the traitor cloud your judgment. If he won’t cooperate, find a way to make him. Do whatever it takes to secure his signature, or I will find someone who can.”

The threat hung heavily in the air, and Adam’s heart sank. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to explain that Lucifer wasn’t just being stubborn—he was being Lucifer, the infuriating, unpredictable being who had once been his friend. But Sera wouldn’t care about that. All she cared about was the contract.

“Yes, Sera,” Adam said finally, his voice flat.

Sera studied him for a long moment before nodding curtly. “You are dismissed.”

Adam bowed slightly, turning on his heel and leaving the chamber. As he walked down the golden corridors, his mind churned with frustration and exhaustion. He had tried everything to get Lucifer to take the contract seriously, but the King of Hell was impossible to pin down. And now, with Sera breathing down his neck, the pressure was unbearable.

When he finally reached the quiet solitude of his own chamber, Adam sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Lucifer was breaking him in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and now Sera’s expectations were threatening to crush what little resolve he had left.

For the first time in centuries, Adam felt truly lost.

The silence pressing in on him as Sera’s words replayed in his mind. His wings drooped, and his golden eyes stared blankly at the polished table in front of him. The phrase “He is flirting with you” hit him like a thunderclap, louder with each repetition in his head.

Lucifer. Flirting.

“What?” Adam said aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the room.

He frowned, sitting up straighter as if the realization itself had physically jolted him. His mind began rifling through the past few years of meetings, replaying Lucifer’s behaviour, his words, the touches, the ridiculous closeness…

Adam’s heart sank.

“No…” he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the thought. “He wasn’t… he couldn’t have been…”

But the memories refused to be ignored.

Lucifer leaning across the table, his sharp grin teasing and playful. “Addie~ You’re so serious all the time! Relax a little—this is our meeting, isn’t it?”

Lucifer tracing his claws over Adam’s arm, the sly purr in his voice as he murmured, “Only interested in one of a kind…”

Lucifer cooking extravagant meals, beaming as Adam reluctantly tried them, his eyes sparkling like he’d won some kind of game.

Lucifer crawling onto his lap during that drunken meeting, clinging to him with a pout and whispering, “Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Adam’s wings twitched, feathers ruffling uncomfortably as the memories piled up. Each one felt like another punch to the gut. He had been so focused on getting the contract signed, so focused on enduring Lucifer’s antics without letting them get to him, that he had completely overlooked… that.

Lucifer had been flirting.

Adam felt heat rise to his cheeks, his jaw clenching as a mix of emotions churned inside him. Confusion, disbelief, and a faint undercurrent of horror all warred for dominance. He buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms. “Why is he doing this? What kind of game is this?”

He sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of it all. Lucifer was the King of Hell, the former Morning Star, the fallen archangel. And yet… he had spent the last three years acting like—like—Adam groaned again, this time louder.

“He’s messing with me,” Adam concluded, his voice firm despite the uncertainty swirling in his chest. “That’s what this is. He’s trying to distract me, trying to throw me off so I can’t finish the contract. Typical Lucifer. It has to be that.”

But even as he said it, the memory of Lucifer’s soft smiles, his gentle touches, and the way he had looked at Adam—like Adam was the only thing in the room that mattered—gnawed at the edges of his reasoning.

“No,” Adam said firmly, standing up and pacing the room. His wings fluttered slightly as his frustration grew. “It’s manipulation. That’s all it is. He doesn’t mean any of it. He’s just trying to get under my skin.”

The idea of Lucifer genuinely… liking him in that way felt impossible. It was absurd. It was—

Adam stopped pacing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt completely overwhelmed. Why now? Why after everything? Why would Lucifer even—

“Ugh,” Adam groaned, flopping back into the chair with his head tilted toward the ceiling. “This is ridiculous.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to focus. Sera was right about one thing—he had a duty to fulfil. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Lucifer’s games, no matter how confusing or disarming they were.

And yet, as much as Adam tried to push the thought away, the lingering question gnawed at the back of his mind.

What if Lucifer wasn’t playing a game?

~#~

Adam stormed into the meeting room, his golden wings spread wide, their shimmering feathers casting an almost blinding glow across the dark marble floors of the hall. His eyes were sharp, jaw tight, and his steps echoed with determination. Lucifer, of course, was already lounging at the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile as he rested his chin on his hand.

“Addie! You’re so tense again,” Lucifer greeted, his voice lilting and sweet like honey. The tiny crown perched on his head caught the candlelight as he waved toward the spread he’d prepared—a small table with tea, pastries, and some fresh-cut flowers.

Adam didn’t falter. “Enough games, your Majesty. Sign the contract.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint that Adam had come to both dread and anticipate.

“You’ve come to see me after all these weeks, and this is how you greet me? No hello? No ‘how are you, Lucifer?’” He sat up, folding his hands under his chin as his tail curled lazily around the chair’s leg.

“I don’t have time for this,” Adam snapped, pulling out the rolled parchment and slamming it onto the table. His frustration poured out in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his voice. “Three years. Three years of these meetings, and you still haven’t signed it.”

Lucifer tilted his head, a faux pout playing on his lips.

“Three years, indeed,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost wistful. “Imagine how much time we’ve spent together, Addie. Doesn’t it make you wonder?”

“Stop calling me that,” Adam growled.

Lucifer ignored him, leaning forward with a playful grin. “It’s sweet, don’t you think? All this time you could have sent anyone else, but you didn’t. You kept coming back to me. Why is that, hmm?”

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the way Lucifer’s voice dipped into something almost intimate. His sharp response caught in his throat, and he quickly shook his head, scowling as he tried to refocus.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Adam barked, glaring down at Lucifer. “Sign the contract. Now.”

But Lucifer only chuckled, low and warm.

“Distract you?” he echoed, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “Darling, if I’m distracting you, that’s entirely your problem, isn’t it?”

Adam opened his mouth to retort, but his mind snagged on that word—darling. His wings bristled slightly, and for the first time, his voice faltered.

“Y-you—don’t call me that,” he managed, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

Lucifer froze for a second before breaking into a delighted laugh, the sound rich and melodic as he clapped his hands together.

“Oh, Addie,” he purred, practically glowing with glee. “Was that… did you just stutter?”

His crimson eyes gleamed, and his tail flicked behind him with excitement. “You did! You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“I—what?!” Adam’s face flushed, and he instinctively stepped back, his wings twitching as he tried to compose himself. “I am not—this is absurd—sign the damn contract!”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, beaming at Adam like he’d just won a prize.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” he mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I’ve been waiting years to see you crack just a little. And now? Oh, Addie, I’ve barely even started.”

Adam clenched his jaw, glaring at Lucifer with a heat that should have been enough to make him stop, but the King of Hell was unbothered, basking in Adam’s attention like it was the sun.

Lucifer reached out, gently tugging at the edge of Adam’s golden sleeve with his clawed fingers.

“You really are magnificent when you’re angry,” he murmured, his tone dipping lower, warmer, enough to make Adam’s chest tighten. “Do you know that? The glow of your wings, the fire in your eyes—it’s breathtaking.”

Adam swatted Lucifer’s hand away, stepping back as he struggled to steady his breathing. “That’s enough!” he barked, though his voice cracked slightly at the end.

Lucifer grinned wider, leaning forward again, his head propped on his hands.

“Tell me, Addie,” he began, his tone dripping with playful curiosity, “When was the last time someone complimented you like that? Or touched you? Or…”

He trailed off, his grin turning sly as he let the words hang between them.

Adam’s face burned, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. His mouth opened, but no words came out—just an unintelligible sound of frustration as his wings flared out behind him.

Lucifer’s laughter filled the room again, but this time it was softer, more indulgent. He rested his chin on his palm, looking at Adam with a gaze that was almost fond.

“You’re precious, Addie,” he said softly, his smile turning gentle.

Adam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back to Lucifer, needing a moment to breathe. His heart was racing, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

“Sign. The. Contract,” Adam said through gritted teeth, his back still to Lucifer.

Lucifer didn’t respond right away, and when Adam glanced over his shoulder, he found the King of Hell watching him intently, his expression unreadable for once.

“Maybe,” Lucifer said finally, his voice quiet but firm, “But only if you promise me one thing, Addie.”

Adam frowned, narrowing his eyes. “What now?”

Lucifer smiled, a softer, more vulnerable one than Adam had seen in a long time. “Promise me you’ll stop pretending you hate being here.”

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat as the words sank in. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the silence settling heavily between them.

Then, as always, Lucifer broke it with a playful grin and a wink.

“After all,” he added lightly, “You wouldn’t keep coming back if you really hated me, would you?”

Adam’s face burned again, and he turned away, muttering under his breath as he tried desperately to refocus on the contract. But Lucifer’s words lingered, far longer than Adam wanted them to.

“I keep coming back because I have to!” Adam snapped, his voice sharp and laced with frustration.

Lucifer, lounging lazily in his chair, only grinned, his devilish tail swaying behind him like a satisfied cat. The glow of the candlelight danced in his ruby and gold-flecked eyes as he leaned forward slightly, his chin resting in his palm.

“Come now, Addie,” he purred, his voice dripping with teasing sweetness, “we both know that if you really didn’t want to come here, you wouldn’t.”

Adam’s golden eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “I don’t have a choice. Sera says—”

Lucifer interrupted him with a soft laugh, the sound smooth and amused. “Oh, please.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his long claws catching the light. “You and I both know that if you really put your foot down, even dear Sera couldn’t force you into this room. Admit it.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, his posture infuriatingly relaxed. “You like coming here. You like spending time with little old me.”

Adam stiffened, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t respond, refusing to dignify Lucifer’s claim with a rebuttal.

Lucifer took full advantage of the silence, his grin softening into something almost tender.

“And, if I’m being honest…” He stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between them.

“I keep coming back too, Addie.” His voice dropped into a low, velvety murmur. “Because I like spending time with you.”

Lucifer’s hand brushed lightly against Adam’s arm, his claws grazing just enough to send a shiver up the angel’s spine. He slid his palm upward, his fingers tracing a deliberate path before settling gently against Adam’s cheek.

“It reminds me of Eden,” he whispered, his voice warm and nostalgic. “When it was just you and me, under the sun, without the weight of Heaven and Hell between us.”

Adam stared at him, frozen in place, his heart pounding.

“I—I don’t remember that,” he managed weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer let out a soft snort, his smile turning mischievous.

“Now, now,” he said, his voice a playful hum. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—” Adam started to protest, his tone sharper this time, but before he could finish, Lucifer silenced him in a way that stole his breath.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Adam’s. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but quickly grew firmer, more sure of itself. Lucifer’s lips moved with practiced ease, coaxing a response, though Adam remained stiff, his mind spinning. The warmth of the kiss, the weight of it, felt impossibly familiar, like a memory long buried yet suddenly unearthed.

For a fleeting moment, it was perfect.

But then, just as Lucifer began to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and brushing his claws softly against Adam’s jawline, Adam snapped back to reality. With a sharp shove, he pushed Lucifer away, his movements quick and forceful.

Lucifer stumbled, letting out a startled yelp as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. His wings flared slightly behind him, his golden and ruby eyes wide with shock as he looked up at Adam. “Adam—” he began, his voice soft, almost pleading.

But Adam was already turning away, his golden wings twitching with barely contained energy as he bolted for the door.

Lucifer remained frozen in place, staring after him as the sound of Adam’s footsteps faded into the distance. The door swung shut with a heavy thud, and the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, the tension draining from his body as he lowered himself slowly back into his chair. His fingers drifted to his lips, tracing over the place where Adam’s had been moments before. The warmth lingered, but it wasn’t enough to mask the sting of rejection.

His heart, the thing he thought he’d buried deep and locked away, thudded anxiously in his chest. His claws curled into his palm as he stared at the door, half-expecting Adam to come back, to burst in with an apology, to say something—anything.

But the door didn’t open.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the ache in his chest. After a moment, he stood, his movements slower, less confident than usual. A swirl of dark energy enveloped him, and he disappeared from the room, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of brimstone.

When he reappeared in his chambers in Hell, the oppressive silence of the space wrapped around him like a cloak. The usual comfort of his lair—the flickering flames, the plush velvet, the distant echo of infernal laughter—felt hollow. Lucifer made his way to his massive, intricately carved bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress.

Lucifer lay sprawled across his luxurious bed, his face buried in the cool silk of his pillows. The room around him was grand, as befitting the King of Hell—a chamber of dark velvet, glowing embers, and twisted beauty—but it felt emptier than ever. His claws dug into the fabric beneath him as his chest heaved with frustration and longing. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind: the soft press of Adam’s lips against his, the way the golden-winged angel froze beneath him, and then—the shove.

The harsh, rejecting shove.

His lips still tingled; his cheeks still flushed from the contact. Lucifer groaned, flipping onto his back as his tail thrashed against the edge of the bed. He stared up at the intricately carved ceiling, the glow of the fiery sconces casting shadows that twisted and danced, mirroring the chaos in his chest.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. His other hand—traitorous thing—lingered near his lips, brushing them softly as if trying to relive that fleeting, perfect moment.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Lucifer wasn’t accustomed to rejection. He was the King of Hell, the first of the fallen, the Morning Star. He could have anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers. And yet, here he was, sprawled out and sulking because one stubborn, infuriatingly beautiful angel had pushed him away.

But it wasn’t just anyone, was it?

It was Adam.

Lucifer let out another groan, throwing an arm over his face as if to shield himself from his own thoughts. His mind raced, thoughts colliding and tangling into a mess of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He’d thought—no, hoped—that they’d been making progress. The past year, things had felt… different. Warmer. Adam didn’t hate him anymore, or so he’d thought. They’d shared conversations, tea, even quiet moments where Lucifer could pretend, just for a little while, that things were as they once were.

He had been so sure that Adam was softening, that the walls Adam had built between them were finally starting to crumble. And then today… that kiss.

Lucifer’s heart clenched at the memory. It had been everything he’d imagined and more. Adam’s lips were warm, soft, and for one blissful moment, it felt as if the universe had aligned. But then the push came, and it was like being cast down from Heaven all over again.

His clawed hand clenched into a fist against his chest, his tail curling tightly around his leg as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t blame Adam. He’d hurt him in the past—so deeply that it was a wonder Adam even tolerated his presence now. The betrayal in Eden, the way he’d let Lilith manipulate him, the way he’d turned away from Adam when Adam needed him most…

He deserved the rejection.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Lucifer sat up abruptly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as he stared across the room. The purple curtains swayed gently, and for a moment, he thought he could see Adam standing there, his golden wings catching the light just so. His heart ached, and he pressed a hand to his chest as if he could physically calm its frantic beating.

“This isn’t a game,” he whispered to himself, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

It wasn’t. Not this time. Lucifer had played plenty of games in the past, but this? This was different. He didn’t just want Adam to fall for him, to become another conquest, another trophy. He wanted… everything.

He wanted Adam’s love, his trust, his companionship. He wanted to see those radiant golden wings spread out beneath him, trembling with pleasure as Lucifer showed him the depths of his devotion. He wanted to hear Adam laugh—really laugh—without the weight of Heaven’s expectations on his shoulders. He wanted Adam to stay by his side, to rule with him, to build something new together.

He wanted Adam to be his.

Lucifer’s cheeks burned at the thought, his hand flying to his mouth as he whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He hadn’t felt like this with Lilith. Or Eve. Or anyone. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Lucifer’s tail flicked against the bed again as a determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d messed up in the past—royally, catastrophically—but he was determined to fix it. Adam might not realize it yet, but they were meant to be together. Lucifer could feel it in every fibre of his being.

“It’s not over,” he said aloud, his voice firm as he pushed himself off the bed. His reflection in the dark mirror across the room stared back at him, and he straightened his crown, his crimson eyes burning with resolve.

Adam might not have been ready for him yet, but Lucifer was nothing if not patient. He’d waited centuries to fix what he’d broken; what was a little longer?

Sooner or later, Adam would come to see things his way. He would come to Hell, where he belonged. By the time the year was up, Adam would be his—mind, body, and soul. Lucifer grinned, his tail swishing with anticipation.

And if Lucifer had his way? Adam would be carrying his child, golden wings shimmering as they ruled together.

“Soon,” Lucifer whispered, his grin widening as he disappeared into the shadows of his chamber, his mind already spinning with plans for their next meeting.

“Oh Addie. Our wedding will be memorable~”

With a purring moan, Lucifer slipped a hand down his front. He slid his hand between his legs, his eyes sliding half-lidded. His long snake-like tongue slithered out from his lips as his mind immediately filled up with Adam.

Oh. He bet Adam would make the cutest sounds~

Lucifer lay back on the plush velvet sheets, fully spent and not quite satisfied, his golden hair was a mess. He gazed up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with memories. His golden and ruby eyes, normally so steady and unshakable, flickered with confusion and regret as they focused on the ceiling above him. His clawed fingers dug into the fabric beneath him, grounding him, though it did nothing to quell the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

He had been so sure of himself, once. The King of Hell, the master of his domain. He had everything he could ever want—power, wealth, respect—yet he had never felt emptier. And it had taken him far too long to realize why.

Adam.

The thought of him, always lingering just out of reach, was what fuelled his every action now. His feelings for Adam had been growing for years, unnoticed at first, perhaps even unrecognized by himself. It had all started with the first time he was drunk, that one fateful meeting when his guard was down, and Adam had been there. He’d been so gentle, so calm, so… unwilling to yield to Lucifer’s charm. It had irritated him at first, that resistance, but as the weeks passed, Lucifer found it… endearing.

And then it grew into something more.

He hadn’t meant to feel this way. At first, it was just loneliness. Lilith had left him, disappeared without a word, and he had no idea where she had gone. She had been everything to him, once. But then, she’d betrayed him, just as he had betrayed her. When she’d left, he’d been swallowed by the void she’d left behind, unsure how to fill it. And when he saw Adam—saw his golden wings and unshakable resolve—he realized he could use that. He could use Adam to fill that void.

But that wasn’t what it had become, was it?

Lucifer rolled onto his side, staring out at the darkened room, his thoughts racing. His feelings for Adam went beyond loneliness now. They were something rawer, deeper, more real. Something that terrified him. At first, it had just been a distraction, a passing fancy. But the more time he spent with Adam, the more he realized how much he needed him.

Needed him. Not just for companionship, but for something more. For Adam’s forgiveness, for his love. For something Lucifer had long since forgotten: peace.

The King of Hell chuckled bitterly to himself. He had been a fool. A scumbag. He had let Lilith manipulate him, cloud his mind, make him think the only thing that mattered was control and power. He had seduced Lilith, used Eve—he had ruined everything. The shame burned inside him, a constant reminder of how wrong he had been. He hated himself for it. He hated himself for letting his pride and desire control him. He hated himself for being a blind fool who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Adam had always been right there, in front of him, and Lucifer had never appreciated him the way he should have. He had taken him for granted. He had acted rashly. He had been disgusting.

Trash.

No. Worse than trash. He had been a monster, and monsters didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve Adam’s forgiveness. Hell, he didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as him. But Lucifer couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about Adam.

The way Adam’s wings fluttered when he was nervous. The way his eyes softened when they spoke about things they both cared about. The way Adam would stare at him, like he didn’t understand why Lucifer couldn’t just leave him alone.

But Lucifer couldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t.

At first, Lucifer had convinced himself it was all just a result of his loneliness, that Adam was nothing more than a temporary distraction. But then the dreams had started. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, his heart racing, because Adam had been there. In his dreams, Adam had been everything he wanted. He had kissed him, had held him, had loved him. And when Lucifer had woken, his body aching, he realized he didn’t want it to end.

When Lilith returned, Lucifer had been so thrown off by his own emotions that he couldn’t even think straight. She had tried to speak to him, tried to rekindle their relationship, but all he could think about was Adam. He hadn’t even heard what Lilith had said—only that she was standing there, in front of him, demanding his attention. But all he could see was Adam. He couldn’t think of anything but the golden-winged angel who had captured his heart without even realizing it.

And when Lilith had left again, Lucifer had made his choice. He told her, without hesitation, to fuck off. He had no more use for her, no more desire for her. He had finally seen it for what it was. Lilith had never been what he truly wanted.

What he truly wanted, Lucifer realized with a bitter smile, was Adam.

The realization had hit him like a freight train. He had wanted Adam for years—he had just been too blind to see it. Too caught up in his own pride and his desire for control. Adam had always been the one, the one he had pushed away, the one he had hurt.

But that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

Lucifer sat up, running his claws through his hair as his chest tightened. He wanted Adam. And not just for a night. He wanted him forever. He wanted to make him his partner, his lover, his equal. He wanted Adam to carry his children. He wanted Adam to be by his side, forever.

But Adam didn’t remember him, did he? Adam didn’t even call him by his name. After all this time, after everything they had been through, Adam still didn’t see him the way he saw Adam. He still thought of him as just the King of Hell.

That hurt more than anything.

But Lucifer wasn’t going to give up. He couldn’t. He had made mistakes, yes. But he would make them right. Adam would come around. Lucifer would make sure of it. Because no matter what, Adam belonged to him.

And Lucifer was going to have him, even if it took everything.

[sapphire-writes]

Daylight ~ Down In Flames

pairing: Aegon x Reader, Aegon x DIF!Reader

summary: Aegon struggles to adjust after the events of Down In Flames.

word count: 3.0k

warnings: she/her pronouns, language, substance use, references around recovery, relapse (alcoholism).

note: this was so fun to revisit and explore DIF!Aegon my beloved! remember this guy? Well here he is! Enjoy loves!

“Fuck, stop stop!” Aegon says, tearing the headphones from his ears.

Helaena frowns at him from her spot outside the recording booth. Her silver hair has been plaited down her back, silver mirror ball earrings catching the light as she looks up. She presses the intercom and speaks into the mic.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, rubbing her temple.

“It just….shit,” Aegon says, running a hand through his hair, “It feels weird…like I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack or something.”

Aegon’s never sung sober. 

He is approaching his year mark this time around. The longest he’d ever gone. Helaena won’t let him forget. She’s always been the most supportive; that’s why Aegon agreed to this in the first place.

“It’s a part of recovery,” Helaena had told him, the first time he’d relapsed. 

Three months out of treatment. He’d never felt lower. Of course, with Helaena’s help he’d gotten right back on the wagon. Alicent had made a few calls and he was back in detox. You need to find different ways of coping with stress. Stress. Yeah. That was it. 

In and out. Up and down. In and out. 

But that was then and this was now. He was tired of feeling this way.

“Take five,” Helaena tells him, giving him an encouraging nod. 

Aegon breathes deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can hear Helaena enter the booth, moments before her hands wrap around him, embracing him in a tight hug. Her face squished against his back, nose pressing in between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Aegon says, voice thick with emotion. He can feel the tears gathering behind his eyes and he refuses to open them, “I didn’t think-”

“It’s alright,” Helaena murmurs, releasing him and rubbing a comforting hand across his back, “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

Aegon bites his tongue, nearly wanting to apologize yet again. 

There was nothing like Aegon and Helaena singing together. Their voices complimented each other perfectly. It was one of the reasons Dracarys became so huge. One of the reasons Aegon agreed to record with Helaena again. There was no coming back for the band; after everything went down in flames nearly two years ago, Aegon had hung up his microphone for good. 

But when Helaena tentatively broached the subject of re-recording one of the first songs they’d performed for a limited release, it was hard to refuse her. And though Aegon hated to admit it, he missed making music. He had been forced into it by his grandfather when he was a child, and though there were rarely any happy memories surrounding his music, there was still some familiar comfort. 

Aegon always craved a drink when he sang. Lyrics and liquor leave the same cloying aftertaste in his mouth. He sighs, breathing heavily as Helaena rests against him.

“I know you’re trying to be kind,” she murmurs, still rubbing circles on his back, “But you really don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Aegon insists, “Just- just give me a minute.”

Helaena nods, pulling away from him. She moves across the small booth, the wide arms of her green shirt ghosting behind her as she does. 

“I’m going to grab us some lunch,” she tells him, “What d’you want?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Aegon grumbles, sitting on the provided stool.

“Doubt you want a harvest bowl,” Helaena says, cocking an eyebrow at him. Aegon groans. 

“Would it kill you to eat something other than rabbit food?” Aegon teases, rubbing his eyes and cracking a small smile.

“A burger it is then,” Helaena says, leaving the room. 

Aegon sighs, removing the headphones from his neck and letting them rest on the microphone in front of him. He glances over at the instruments. The guitar, the bass, the drumset. Ghosts that won’t disappear. 

The door creaks open and Aegon turns, surprised at how quickly Helaena has returned. She’s got a terrible habit of never leaving a room with everything she came in with. Helaena leaves a trail of breadcrumbs wherever she goes, her belongings strewn about every room she enters.  

“Forget your keys?” he calls but is greeted by someone who is not his sister.

A girl stands, wide-eyed, holding a stack of papers in her arms and a camera bag slung across her shoulder. She’s pretty. Very pretty, Aegon notes to himself. 

“Sorry,” she says, looking sheepishly toward the floor, “We’ve got this space reserved for half past three.”

Aegon glances at his watch. Shit. He’d wasted Helaena’s afternoon.

“Right,” he says, hurrying to gather himself, “Sorry.”

“It’s no problem,” she says, smiling politely. 

Aegon moves to exit just as she enters, and they get stuck in an awkward dance trying to let the other pass. She chuckles nervously, the sound ringing in Aegon’s head like bells. Like music. 

He pauses as she squeezes by him, watching her drop her things and take out her camera. 

“You a musician?” Aegon asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Gods no,” she says, checking the settings of her camera, “Just a photographer. You know The Iron Fleet?” 

Aegon nods, recognizing the name of the rising heavy metal band. They’re good, very good. A little rowdy from what he’s seen splashed across the tabloids, but who is he to judge?

“They’re my next shoot. Wanted some shots in the studio,” she tells him, glancing up. She tells him her name, though Aegon is a bit distracted by her eyes; bright and framed with long lashes. 

“I’m-”

“I know who you are,” she interrupts, before pressing her lips together tightly and shaking her head, “Sorry, that was rude. I just- I knew Dracarys that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aegon says, feeling his face burn with embarrassment, “You don’t have the best impression of me then.”

“Not the worst either,” she tells him, flashing a crooked smile. 

You don’t even know the worst of it, Aegon thinks to himself. There it is again, forming in his stomach, that feeling of guilt. The wave of regret grows so big it threatens to drown him completely if he allows it. He swallows the lump forming in his throat. 

She seems to notice his discomfort and glances away, back down at her camera.

“Do you want to see something?” she asks, beckoning him forward with a nod of her head.

Aegon walks over slowly, his hands in his pockets. He’s feeling anxious now, and if his hands aren’t balled into tight fists he’ll bite his fingernails until they bleed. 

“This was a few nights ago,” she says, showing him a photo of the lead singer of The Iron Fleet, mid-smashing his guitar to pieces onstage.

“Seven hells,” he murmurs, leaning closer to see, “That’s a great shot.”

“Thanks! Thought a shard of guitar was going to take my eye out,” she says with a chuckle, “But I got it! Firefly Weekly paid my rent for that shot.”

Aegon raises an eyebrow, “Impressive.”

“Cheers,” she answers, “What were you up to?”

“Oh I was…it was nothing,” Aegon says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hmm,” she says, “Were you singing?”

“Trying to, I suppose,” Aegon answers, “It’s been…” Fuck. How does he even begin to explain this to a stranger? A pretty stranger nonetheless. “It’s been a while.”

Aegon never used to struggle talking to women. Charming them. Seducing them into bed with him. It was like a game almost, that’s how easy it was. Collecting them like charms on a bracelet. The past swirls down the drain in his mind much like his old stash of booze. It’s a whole new ballgame now. And it’s been fucking hard to learn the rules.

“Yeah,” she agrees, as if she knows exactly what he’s talking about, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it completely. He doesn’t know what he’s done to win her kindness, but he appreciates it.

The studio doors open and the members of The Iron Fleet begin to pour in. Aegon smiles awkwardly, shuffling backward toward the door. He’ll wait for Helaena outside. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” the girl calls, just as he’s slipping out the door.

Aegon pauses, looking back at her.

“Yeah,” he answers, “I’ll see you around.”

“Do you ever sing?” Aegon says, sitting and pulling the guitar onto his lap.

She moves to join him, sitting on the stool in front of him. They’ve been playing this game for a while now, running into each other at the studio. Each day, Aegon sings a little more; the music coming back to life within him. 

“A little bit,” she admits, her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink, “Just for fun though, nothing serious. I’m not a musician.” 

Aegon snorts, dismissing her put-down. He reaches for his notebook and licks his thumb, flipping through the pages. 

“I bet you sound lovely. Here,” he murmurs, finding the page he was looking for.

She takes it from his hand, reading the chicken scratch handwriting as he begins to strum a few chords. Aegon’s hands are steady as he plays. The guitar is an extra limb, the sweet sound of music filling the booth. He nods, encouraging her. She straightens, clearing her throat, eyes scanning the page before she begins. 

There’s a monster in my bedroom

A beast beneath the boards 

He comes out when I am lonely 

Summoned by the chords-

That I play on my guitar in the silence of my room

Empty bottle 

Bad decisions

Anger taken out on you

She pauses, looking up at him. Aegon nods to continue, still strumming his guitar. He remembers writing it. He remembers everything. She clears her throat. 

Here it comes, the burden on my brow

It lies heavy, it is weighted

My bed becomes my shroud

Here I’ll lie, for the rest of my days

Withering and rotted 

Ivory flesh turns to gray 

She stops as Aegon finishes, meeting her eyes.

“It’s very sad,” she comments, “Beautiful, really, but terribly sad.”

“That’s one of mine,” Aegon says, bringing his thumb to his mouth, and chewing on the skin. A nervous habit. 

“I didn’t know you wrote,” she says.

“Helaena usually,” he comments, watching her hands hold the notebook, “But yeah.”

“It’s good,” she tells him, handing him his notebook, “Really good, Aegon. You have a gift.”

“It’s been wasted,” he says with a dark chuckle.

“Not entirely,” she tells him, and he meets her eyes once more, “Life is full of second chances.”

“You sing beautifully,” Aegon compliments, not so subtly trying to get the attention off of him, “You sure you’re not in a band?”

She laughs, amusement evident in her eyes. 

“You’re trying to distract me,” she teases.

“You’re starting to know me well,” he tells her, feeling his chest tighten with longing.

He’s been struggling with women ever since….well ever since his last relationship. He was in such a bad place, mentally, emotionally, and physically. Ever since then, ever since fully understanding how he treated his last partner. Well, Aegon doesn’t know if he’s even worthy of love anymore.

Ever since then.

Ever since her.

“Your thoughts are loud, Mr. Tortured Artist,” she teases, tearing him from his thoughts.

He blinks, giving her a cheeky grin. 

“Sorry. Just reminiscing,” he says softly.

“About what?” 

“A different life,” he tells her, “A different me.”

“I like this Aegon,” she tells him, smiling softly. 

“They’re one and the same, I’m afraid.”

“Yes,” she agrees, “But this one knows something the other doesn’t.”

Aegon’s eyebrows knit together and he looks at her curiously.

“What’s that?”

“Things will get better.”

Aegon chuckles, “Still not completely sure that’s true.”

They sit in silence once more. It’s not uncomfortable, and Aegon doesn’t shy away from her gaze. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks. 

It. No, not it. 

Her. 

Aegon swallows. Therapy, AA, group. They’ve all heard it. Everyone has. And each time it’s like opening a wound that never properly healed. 

“Maybe another time,” he suggests, and she nods in agreement.

“Shall I sing another Aegon original?” she teases, flipping through the pages. Her eyebrows scrunch together, “What is The Pink Dread?”

“You’ve ruined it- oh my gods-”

Aegon freezes, hands leaving the computer as he holds them above his head, eyes wide.

“Shit, really? No, you’re joking shit!” Aegon says, panicking.

She laughs, swatting his shoulder as he sits frozen.

“I’m kidding, idiot, but you’ve completely fucked the color correction,” she informs him, tilting the laptop towards herself and correcting his mistake.

“This is complicated,” Aegon tells her and she hums in response.

“You’re just thick.”

“Rude!”

Aegon watches her as she snickers, fiddling with the computer until the image looks better. Aegon purses his lips. Perhaps she had a point, it looks a lot better now. 

“We should get out of the studio,” Aegon suggests. 

She’s clicking through different photos on her laptop as he says this, munching on leftover french fries from the takeout Aegon had brought her. He knew she was working on editing some photos, and while he and Helaena didn’t have plans to record, he stopped by anyway. It was becoming somewhat of a routine. 

She turns her head, raising an eyebrow at him. “And go where?”

“Somewhere,” Aegon says, leaning back in his chair, “I want my picture taken.”

She smiles at him endearingly. She’s grown rather fond of their afternoons together. Aegon is easy to be around, there are no awkward or forced moments between them. It’s natural. Carefree. 

“Oh do you now?” she says with a giggle. 

When she laughs, Aegon can’t help but smile. He leans forward, resting his chin in the palms of his hands.

“Can you do one like those weird baby pictures? Where their bodies are all swaddled up and their heads look massive.”

She laughs again and Aegon swears he feels his heart grow in size. His smile widens as she shakes her head, taking a sip of water. 

“A portrait then?” she asks, closing her laptop, “Just you?” 

“If you’ll have me,” Aegon says, before an idea pops into his head, “Actually, I have someone else who would love to be a model.”

“Sunfyre down!” Aegon yells, just as his energetic golden tackles her to the ground, “Shit- oh shit sorry he’s excited!”

But she’s laughing hysterically as Sunfyre licks her cheeks, his tail wagging furiously as her arms wrap around him. They’d chosen a nearby park for the shoot; she’d been confident that the changing colors of the autumn leaves would be the perfect backdrop.

“It’s okay!” she giggles, turning her head away from the dog’s tongue, “Such a good by Sunfyre!”

“He’s a brute,” Aegon argues as Sunfyre seats himself in her lap on the ground, “Oh c’mon you’re not a fucking lapdog-” Sunfyre barks at the comment, smiling up at his owner.

She’s laughing all the while, legs crushed by the happy golden. “Really, it’s alright Egg-”

Aegon squats next to them, patting Sunfyre’s head. 

“My sister calls me that,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed. She’s still giggling, laughter pouring from her lips like music. 

“Sorry, just slipped out-”

“No no, shit! That wasn’t--I wasn’t,” he sighs, shaking his head, “I like it.”

Sunfyre is panting between them as they lock eyes. She smiles at Aegon, warmth creeping onto her cheeks. Aegon’s cheeks are pink from the cold autumn air, and the tip of his nose is as well. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning, “Now, let’s get some of those photos, yeah?”

It takes a while, Sunfyre is not the most patient model, but eventually, she gets some photos of the two of them. 

“There,” she says, showing him as they sit next to one another on a bench. Sunfyre lays on a bed of orange and red leaves, eyes closed, “You’ve got your holiday card for this year sorted. Make sure to send me one.”

“Course,” Aegon says, his knee bouncing nervously, “Thank you, for real. This was…fun.”

She smiles at him, “Yeah, I had fun too.”  

Aegon’s stomach flips pleasantly as she smiles at him. 

“I’ve got this family thing coming up. I was just ... .I was wondering…..Would you maybe like to be my date?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“Aegon Targaryen,” she says, smirking slightly, “Are you asking me on a date?”

“I mean, you could come as my friend,” he hurries his answer, nervous he’s made a mistake, “That’s alright too, I just like hanging out with you and your company would be great.” He’s rambling he can tell, gods he’s so fucking nervous. “And my family is fucking nuts. Like not crazy how everyone says haha my family is crazy, like actually crazy.” Shit. Shit, he’s not selling it, her eyes are wide, oh gods she’s regretting ever meeting-- “Um, I mean they’re not….I’m not..”

“Egg,” she says softly, placing her hand over his, stopping his knee from vigorously bouncing, “I’d love to be your date.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sighing in relief, “You mean it?”

She smiles, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. It’s soft, it’s sweet, and it sends Aegon’s heart racing. He brings a hand to cup her cheek, deepening the kiss. 

When she pulls away, they’re both smiling shyly at one another. The hand that rested on his remains, and she laced her fingers through his.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence, “What kind of family gathering? Should I be prepared for blood rituals and sacrifices?”

Aegon barks out a laugh.

“Hardly,” he says, squeezing her hand, “It’s nothing too exciting. My kid brother’s engagement party.”

“That’s wonderful,” she says, “A wedding, how exciting! You must be so happy for him.”

Aegon smiles, lost in thought, taking a moment before he answers. The past couple of years flash through his mind; faded memories.

“Yeah,” he says smiling fondly, “I really am.”

note: oh me oh my.....an engagement party oneshot in the future perhaps? 🤔 hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane!

DIF taglist: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress, @lexyr23, @reneki, @fictionalcomforts, @serrhaewin, @yariany02, @lily174, @nina2697, @minttea07, @queenofshinigamis, @duesobabe, @maximizedrhythms, @arryn-nyx, @arcadianmoonlight @kittykylax, @hiatuswhore, @issshhh, @echos-muses, @wrendermeuseless, @youcantbesirius, @partypoison00 @chainsawsangel @bellameshipper @wondergal2001, @arcielee @rwdkarla @sweetsweetpsyche @valeric-writes @sahvlren @ohdemimonde @geminidas @darkenchantress @sophielangdonx, @khaothick, @flavorofsalt, @spinachtz, @alitaar, @crazylokonugget @eddiemadmunson, @schniiipsel, @borikenlove, @afro-hispwriter, @whitefang1919, @sarcastically-defensive17, @paprikaquinn, @minttea07, @iiamthehybrid, @ghostheartbeat, @namelesslosers, @iiamthehybrid, @mendes-bae,

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[chaifootsteps]

To me, the stolas accountability scene looks like this.

The camera for once, doesn’t zoom in on his tears, but on someone he’s hurt. And it finally stops using his manipulative little piano or music box leitmotifs. Moxxie is a perfect candidate. Think about it. How many times has moxxie gone out of his way for stolas, almost dying for his sake, only to be met with stolas yelling at all three of them or violently grabbing at their boss? I count three separate instances. Seeing stars has the worst whiplash between stolas bursting into their office and terrifying them all with demonic intimidation, then the next second saying “let’s play dress up uwu! I’m sailor moon!” “Oh I’m weak and helpless!”

I want moxxie to say all these things. To question all of these strange behaviours by stolas. He’s been there every step of the way. He’s seen how insecure blitz is about the bird, how much pressure he’s under to satisfy the bird. Moxxie knows their business relies on his whims, why can’t he be mad about it and stand up for his friend?! And when moxxie hears stolas had a tantrum over the Loona shot incident, it may remind him of the “Not you littler ones!” moment. Stolas didn’t care they fought for him. Only that it wasn’t his preferred imp. Think of Moxxie at the end of Harvest Moon to Millie’s parents.

I imagine a scene like his confrontation with striker. Moxxie slowly asks more and more questions while striker looms in the door. But instead it’s stolas.

Moxxie: Ive been wondering something..i tried not to. But I kept thinking. How did you track us down in the DHORKs facility so easily? You said you “have your ways” but then the moment you’re alone with blitz in the human world in LA, you said your powers are “limited”?

And…I saw the stone imp in loooloo land. And the possessed humans! You did all of that with ease! Did you think I’d forget how terrifying you were?! So how is it that as soon as you were alone with us in LA your powers were gone and you couldn’t even cast a single spell or conjure portals? Did you…lie about your daughter’s safety and your helplessness to save her, just so you could spend all day with Blitzø against his will, and control the rest of us? Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? And those hallucinations we saw! Those were far too elaborate to be from truth serum. Those were enchantments. The only demon I know who’s powerful enough to create those would be……

I don’t know how vivzie would have stolas “I’m just a sad little guy” “I’m a victim!” Himself of that one. And fuck it, have various people tell Verosika that Stolas was trashing her the entire time and only posing as a sad innocent baby. She deserves to know.

You guys are knocking it out of the park with these Stolas callout scenarios. I love everything about this, and also Verosika absolutely deserves to know.

[sentientgolfball]

that recent dew request got me SOFT!!! i love your writing so much, so how about i request phantom x reader also engaging in a playfight but since phantom has been recently summoned, he's not used to holding back and ends up unintentionally scratching the reader with his claws. i wonder how freaked out and horrified he'd be once he realized !!!!!!

Ok so I went a little overboard with this one cause I'm HEAVY on the Phantom brainrot. Semi continuation of this but all you really need to know is Reader works as Sister's assistant and has been at the Ministry for a decent amount of time.

Also...thank you so much that really makes me so happy WAHHHH

My requests are open !

Your eyes darted up in the direction of the door for the millionth time since Sister Imperator left her office for the day. You had stayed behind to get some extra work done for the upcoming Samhain harvest party. You rolled your shoulders to sedate the feeling of anticipation building up within you. As time dragged on with nothing happening you began to relax and get some proper work done, that is until you hear it. The slightest creak of the floorboards. You tense for a moment pausing your typing to listen for it again thinking you just imagined it. You get this deep feeling within your gut that you need to turn around right now or who knows what will happen. You shift in your chair and scan the surprisingly small space. 

There’s no way he’s here. I would’ve seen him come in unless he crawled through the fucking window. What am I thinking of course he would crawl through a window. 

You turn back around in your chair only to be met with the glowing purple eyes of your favorite scarred face. You jump ever so slightly but cover it up with a laugh and a shake of your head.

“Nice try star,  but you’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

“Seriously? I spent all day perfecting that trick and nothing.” He makes a pouty face as he looks at you from across the desk. 

“It’s going to take a lot more than sudden popping into existence to get me” you laugh “but I wouldn’t mind hearing about that little trick.” You just wanted to know exactly what to look out for for future encounters. You hoped you sounded innocent enough, though apparently you didn’t. 

“Can’t do. A magician never reveals his secrets.” He looks at you smugly. 

You roll your eyes with a smile and finish the email you were writing before standing and slipping your hand into his. You walk back to your room together and you can literally feel the excitement sparking off of Phantom. You shudder when you feel a zap of accidental quintessence pulse through you. With the harvest party so close, the Ministry is fully done up in autumn colors and cheap decorations. It was hard to make a Satanic abbey filled with demons look any more haunted, but it’s the thought that counts. 

Phantom had become completely enamored with the concept of Halloween. The day the very first fake cobweb appeared he had burst into your room on your day off to interrogate you about why the Siblings were getting annoyed with him for cleaning it. When you explained to him what Halloween was and how humans celebrate it he was so excited that the lichtenberg figure scars on his body began to pulse with barely contained quintessence. He spent the remainder of the night on your laptop binge watching movies and looking at costumes. He also picked up a nasty habit. From that day on he turned his daily ‘visit you at work’ moments into daily ‘try to scare you shitless’ moments. You ended up having to explain to a rather sad looking Phantom that you’ve been at the Ministry for quite some time and a ghoul jumping out and yelling ‘boo’ is not going to scare you. Little did you know, that would only egg him on. His little scares started to become big scares trying everything he could think of to get to you. 

You both pause when you finally get to your room. This immediately makes you suspicious as Phantom usually opens the door first. You turn to look at him. 

“Phantom I swear to Satan if one of your bats is in there again.” You say slowly pushing open the door and peaking in. You sigh in relief when you don’t see anything moving. 

You walk in with him hot on your heels. His smile falters as he looks around the room. 

“Aw come on I left it right there!” He says pointing to your desk. Your eyes scan over him. 

“Is that who you were looking for?” You motion to his shoulder. He turns his head and yelps when he sees the tarantula on him. You walk over and take it gently into your hand before he can smack it. 

“Is this one of Papa Secondo’s? How did you convince him to let you borrow her for this?” 

He stays silent.

“You didn’t convince him, did you?” 

“I thought it would work! Aren’t most humans anthropomorphic?” 

“Arachnophobic.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

You smile and shake your head “Well I’m going to take this little lady back to Secondo before he turns the Ministry inside out.” 

You leave your room and immediately notice Phantom is not making a move to follow you. That’s your sign that he has something else planned. You mentally prepare yourself for whatever it may be as you make the long walk to Secondo’s chambers where you deposit the tarantula safely into his waiting, and worried, hands. 

Your internal clock still hasn’t matched up to the time change and it is suddenly a lot darker on your way back to your room than you anticipated. The candles being your only source of light for your journey. You pause in front of the open Chapel doors and stare at a glowing stained glass window. You smile contentedly taking it all in, this time of year was always your favorite. 

And then all the candles are snuffed at once. And the heavy doors slam shut. And you smell something. It’s a scent you’re not familiar with. It smells like a strange mix of all the things you’ve come to associate with each element. You turn in a small circle trying to get your bearings in the dim lighting and that’s when you see the thing that makes your blood run cold. The flash of a silver mask standing in front of one of the windows. You can feel your heart jump to your throat as you recall the legends you were told when you first joined the Church. 

Never walk alone at night or else the ghoul who lurks there will find you and dispose of you assuming that you’re a trespasser. He has no name. He only reacts to—

“Special.” You say out loud in shock. 

The moment you do the masked figure rushes at you. You curse and immediately turn to run the opposite direction but you’re no match for the speed of a ghoul. You feel the clawed hand grip your wrist, but luckily you had enough momentum to pull away before he could fully hold you in place.  You sprint down the hallway without a second thought doing everything you can to put distance between you and the ghoul. You pass a small utility closet and that brings you to your senses. You can’t outrun a ghoul no matter how much of a head start you have. You double back and jump into the closet leaving it open just enough to peak out. You keep a hand over your mouth trying to keep your breathing as quiet as you can. You watch through the crack as Special stops right outside of the closet and sniffs the air. Time feels like it moves in slow motion as you watch him. Your chest clenches. Your stomach drops to the floor. You can feel yourself shaking. An image of your death flashes through your mind. 

The ghoul seems to catch something and laughs before taking off in the direction you had gone before ducking into cover. That laugh. It wasn’t full of malice or danger. It was giddy, full of pure excitement. You recognized that laugh. 

Phantom. 

You take a moment to sigh in relief about the fact you aren’t about ready to be horribly murdered by the ghoul from Ministry legend before deciding you were so getting Phantom back for this. You quietly step out of the closet and creep down the hallway you saw him go towards. You hide behind a pillar when you see him standing there frantically looking around. You hear him growl before watching him rip the mask off.

“I can’t smell anything with this thing on.” 

He turns around and starts walking back to where this little game all began. You hold back a smile and lean against the pillar nonchalantly as if you weren’t just on the verge of tears. You watch him pass you before you speak. 

“Come here often?” 

He screams and drops the mask, turning around to face you. You laugh and pick it up, holding it out to him. 

“This is impossible! I’m starting to think you’re not human.” he pauses and you can see his nose twitch as a satisfied grin spreads across his face. He can definitely smell your fear. 

“Nope. Nuh uh. You didn’t get me.” You give him a light shove with your shoulder. 

“Oh I definitely did. I finally found what freaks you out! The big bad ghoul that goes bump in the night!” 

He grabs you and gives you an excited and triumphant shake. When he lets go you feel a small stinging sensation on your arms where he grabbed. You check yourself over and see the little pinpricks from where his claws accidentally dug into your flesh, a small amount of blood already welling there. It wasn’t deep, certainly not the worst scratch from a ghoul, but you did not feel like walking around the Ministry at night with blood on you. The idea of the legends still being true flashes in your mind. 

“Hey uh Phantom.” 

He turns and looks at you and all the elation from his success disappears in an instant. You immediately try to soothe him before he freaks out. 

“Hey no it’s okay. It doesn’t really hurt, I'm fine. I just need you to heal them, okay?” 

He stares at you frozen in place, eyes flicking from your face back to the blood back to you. He looks lost, like he’s not even entirely sure what he’s seeing. You can practically see the storm of thoughts in his head. 

“Phantom.” You say gently. This time he snaps out of it. He’s shaking like a leaf as he silently reaches for you. He hesitates for a moment before carefully putting his hands on you. The air is filled with the smell of ozone and frost as you watch his scars pulse to life with his quintessence. And then you’re screaming as the small sting turns into a horrible burn. He rips his hands away immediately and backs up so far he bumps into the wall. 

You take a moment to catch your breath and scream out a rather creative string of curse words as the feeling turns into a dull throb. 

“Okay. That one’s on me.” You knew he had a hard time controlling his magic when his emotions ran high, but you weren’t exactly thinking logically after the night's events. 

He mumbles something and you tilt your head. He notices and repeats himself just a bit louder. 

“Omega should still be in the infirmary.” He looks up at you with the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. You mentally smack yourself for not remembering that. 

“Alright let’s go see Omega then.” You smile and move towards Phantom only for him to back away. You pause and feel your chest tighten a bit at the once clingy ghoul keeping a five foot distance from you. You’ve never seen him so quiet, so reserved in your time together. You don’t really know what to do, so you just turn and make your way towards the infirmary. You feel a little better hearing the sound of his shoes clicking after you. 

The infirmary isn’t busy and Omega is able to see you immediately. The lingering scent of your fear made him believe that something horrible happened, but when he saw the little claw marks he sighed. Phantom seemed to take his reaction a different way and immediately started to babble out an explanation with you occasionally interjecting to correct his overdramatization. However, when you got to the part about the added pain Omega seemed concerned. 

“Phantom, you isolated the wrong thread. Have you not been practicing your healing?” 

His ears dropped down as his tail wrapped around his leg. His only response was a high pitched whine. 

Omega sighed “I don’t know if I should yell at you or Aether or both” he pinches the bridge of his nose “starting tomorrow you’re to come here. Don’t be late.” 

He gets up and stalks off to another room without saying anything more. 

You and Phantom leave and head back to your room. He walks next to you this time, but he’s still quiet and it doesn’t sit right with you. He follows you into your room and looks up at you when you close the door.

“Are you really okay?” 

“Yes star, I’m fine. It was barely even a scratch.”

He doesn’t look convinced. You hold your arms out to him.

“Hey. Come here. I want my favorite little love bug.” 

To your surprise, he jumps into you immediately. The force of it knocks you backwards and you land on the bed with him clinging to you. You laugh as he buries his face into your chest muttering apologies and promises to never do it again. He clings tightly to you for a while and you let him, happy that he seems back to normal. Relief washes over you when you finally hear him purr. 

“Hey by the way.”

“Hmm?” 

“Where did you get that uniform?” 

“Oh I borrowed it from Dew.” 

You furrow your brows “And he just let you?” 

He laughs “Well yea. It was his and Swiss’ idea for me to use it.” 

Suddenly the whole situation makes sense. There’s no way Phantom would’ve come up with the idea of masquerading as the special ghoul on his own, much less actually use the idea. You pull his face up to meet yours in a quick kiss. 

“I love you, but never take the advice of those two again.” 

“You’re just mad that I won.” 

You roll your eyes and pull him closer in your little spoon. You lay there with him listening to him ramble about how he did everything, slowly getting lulled to sleep by his weight and the rumble of his voice.

[phonification]

II16 SPOILERS!!

ITS THEORY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

about the big reveals, to what extent is the show made by mephone? aside from all the contestants, what about the islands where the competitions took place? what about non contestants like the uninvitationals, ballpoint pen, spoiled lemon, springy, ect?

FOR STARTERS, the reveal that 3gs actually ended up getting one of the eggs and how the whole mission happened was AMAZING!!!! after that its most likely that cobs is using the egg as a source of energy to power things like Melife and the rest of his creations.

so like, we know mp4 was the first mephone after the egg discovery, so what if cobs tried harvesting its energy/soul into his latest creation at the time, mephone4, but since this was his first time doing it, he went overboard and gave him too much power? mabye thats where his "gift" comes from..? after mephone ran away, i guess he decided against killing him and put everything in place to watch how far mephones abilities went??

we know that mephone knew everything that he had to do to set up a reality show, most likely from all of the shows watched during his time at meeple.. so mabye he consciously knew that the show was made by him, its was HIS. but he had no idea to the EXTENT of the things he created. subconsciously, mabye his system/mind is in way part mecanic but powered by organic energy from the egg? or just specific parts function on that energy? because whatever energy/soul they got from the egg had an influence in the subconscious creation of the show, i have no idea where else the egg looking mountains from the shimmer home planet wouldve come from if it wasnt that LOL (and it could explain why mephone was affected by the wailing from the other shimmer egg back in hatching the plan and mepad wasnt)

id guess cobs learned how to calcute how much energy he had to put into the future mephones to balance out their abilities, said abilities given by the energy of the egg being stuff like mepads teleportation, melife, mephones portals, and maaabye the item generation thing?? (if mepad also had "shimmer energy" in my system, mabye he wasnt glitching because he doesnt have that much of a dosis of it??? GOD THIS IS CONFUSING SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE AUGH)

i have no idea what mephonex's deal is though. how the fuck is he doing that. all we know is that: he isnt physically there (i think), attacks via hallucinations and can uninanimate objects ...? i think it might be a weird thing with cobs messing with mephones head and it leaking into the other contestants???????? please give me your thoughts . im stumped . PLEASE

aside from that!! GOOD LORD THE FORESHADOWING WAS INSANE!! i think its really neat that cabby was most likely the most aware of her apparent memory loss, no one has actually realized up to this point unless its pointed out to them, I CANT WAIT FOR THE REST TO FIND OUT!!! IF THEY EVER LIVE TO HEAR IT!!!!!!!!

OH AND THE GLITCHES!!!

IM so hyped

[gartenofbanny]

Striker was one of my favorite antagonists in Helluva Boss. He's a (mostly) thought-out character with an understandable motivation, has a great personality, is a threat to IMP and Stolas, conflicts with Blitzo moreso than Moxxie, and his design is cool. Well when Western Energy was released, you can tell that Striker's character has been changed, and not for the better. While I still consider him my favorite antagonist (because he's the one with the most depth), I can't ignore the character change he had in Western Energy, and believe me they did change a lot about him. So this is going to be a simple comparison of both versions of Striker, some of the topics I'm going to be talking about are listed in this meme I made. Anyway, let's get started.

Show vs Tell

Helluva Boss has always had a show vs tell problem, but it was very apparent in Western Energy. For this example I'm going to bring up the Ballad of Striker.

The song is insanely catchy, but my problem is that they just describe traits or stuff about Striker that we already know about or we're going to know about later on. We know he's fast and strong and tall and mean because he already expressed those traits in Harvest Moon, we're told that he's the best assassin in the Ring of Wrath despite him failing to kill Stolas twice, they say that he's this famous assassin even the cacti know his name but Blitzo, Moxxie, nor Millie never heard of him before Harvest Moon and there was no foreshadowing that he even existed.

The only things we know that's new when it comes to Striker is that he likes to eat Pâté for lunch and he likes to ride on the choo-choo train. So yeah those are the only two new things we know about him, the rest of those traits don't make sense or were things we already knew and we have Harvest Moon Festival to thank for that.

Striker is fast because and strong and tall because he's Blitzo's physical equal and he overpowered Millie swiftly. He's mean because we've seen him insult and hate on Moxxie just because he's weak. None of that was told to us, it was shown.

So not only did the writers implement tell instead of show this song that's telling us all this stuff just regurgitating information that we already know or stuff that doesn't make any sense. It's just a catchy song with no meaning.

Striker also mentions that Demonic Royalty took away everything he had, but it's very vague and not even brought up again in the episode. Stolas doesn't even know what he's talking about and doesn't even care lmao. This could've been a good opportunity to flesh him out a little especially considering that he's the second major antagonist to make a second appearance as an antagonist.

Voice Acting

Now this is going to be a bit controversial, while I do like Edward Bosco's voice, Norman Reedus' voice acting is just on another level. Simply put it, Norman Reedus is a more experienced Actor than Ed Bosco because Norman has been in the game for well over 10 years at least. Edward Bosco from what I've seen only does voice acting for cartoons meanwhile Norman Reedus does both acting and voice acting and has been doing so since the 1990s.

Norman is just better, but that doesn't mean Edward Bosco is bad. I will say that Vivziepop should've had Edward Bosco voice Striker from the beginning because in all honesty, whenever I see or hear Striker I immediately think Norman Reedus until I remember Edward Bosco also voiced him. Having a big actor voice an antagonist leads to the audience identifying that antagonist as the actor.

And when that big voice actor gets replaced by a lesser experienced one it'll be difficult to fill those shoes, I'm not blaming Ed for this, moreso Vivziepop because I don't know why she decided to hire Norman fucking Reedus for this role and could've known that Norman Reedus most likely wouldn't be back for it.

Personality Change

So Striker has had a personality change in Western Energy, while remnants of his personality in Harvest Moon remained (like his hatred of Overlords & Demonic Royalty) there's more stuff that was added and removed that made his character a bit worse.

One of the things that they added to Striker was the fact that he has a statue of himself with a stick poking out between his legs. Obviously not going to share the image here because of reasons. While he was pretty narcissistic, it wasn't to the extent that he would literally make a fucking statue of himself with a hard-on. It's literally something Chaz would do and you all know my opinion about that guy. Not to mention it's yet another male character that's obsessed with dick so yeah.

Striker all of a sudden is also more sensitive to insults compared to his Harvest Moon version. He gets triggered whenever Stolas insulted him which is weird because before when he did get insulted he just didn't care and bit back with his own insults. Now he's just an angry goofball.

Striker gets disgusted to sexual remarks to the extent that he'll literally stop what he's doing. Whether it be stop torturing Stolas or stop choking out Moxxie because sexual jokes and cries are oh so disgusting to him. Remember when Blitzo essentially flirted with him in Harvest Moon and Striker didn't have a reaction to it? Yeah, me too.

This sensitivity to an extent also makes him less intimidating because now if you just insult Striker or say something dirty around him, he'll all of a sudden stop what he's doing to look at you disgustedly or gag. "Greatest Assassin in the Ring of Wrath", but he can't take insults or dirty jokes, fuck off with that.

Reckless Actions

Time to list Striker's reckless actions in a single episode alone

1. He attacked Stolas in public in a café where possible High Ranked Demons dine at

2. He has a wanted poster yet is in public

3. Is well known and possibly famous despite being called "The Greatest Assassin in the Ring of Wrath"

4. For some reason he lets imps be aware of his hideout which is what literally caused Moxxie and Millie to find him

While Striker in Harvest Moon was a bit reckless (Like why did he leave his door open to for Blitzo to find him assassinating Stolas and why was he immediately hostile towards Moxxie when Moxxie found his gun), but he wasn't reckless to this extent. I can also explain why Striker decided to snipe Stolas. It's because there were a bunch of Imps around and once Striker instantly kills Stolas it actually leaves a lot of suspects instead of one. And due to the fact that Imps are the bottom of the social hierarchy, it would lead to many members of Demonic Royalty just hating on Imps which can become a problem for Moxxie, Millie, and Blitzo because they are all affiliated with Stolas.

So if Striker just straight up killed Stolas in Harvest Moon, he probably won't face the consequences. That would be an interesting conflict, but it's definitely not gonna happen.

Conclusion

Anyway, Striker as an antagonist has really changed for the worst in Western Energy and it's such a shame because he was my favorite antagonist. He still is, but it's just not the Striker I liked. Oh well at least the DHORKS Agents are still around, hopefully Viv and her writing team don't fuck them up.

Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day! ❤️

[sweetwriter]

Second Chance: Chapter 1

Single dad! Bakugou x Black! Reader

Chapter 1

“So yer the beautiful teacher Kasumi always rambles on about” Is what Bakugou wanted to say, instead he looks at her hand. YN is a little confused by his standoffish behavior compared to his daughters extroverted personality.

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you,” YN smiles generously and then looks down to the child who has a death grip on her leg, “Kasumi make sure to say your goodbyes and have everything, wouldn’t want you to hurry and leave without your high fives and hugs from your papa right?”

“RIGHT” She said a little loud- she has a little trouble with speaking really loud, I need to work on that, thought Katsuki.

“Alright papa, high five and hugs before Ms. YN starts.”

Kasumi loves Ms. YN with as much love a four year old can have for someone. Something just clicked in her mind, that Ms. YN is someone that she loved more than anything besides her papa, of course.

As he heads out he hears someone call his name, “Mr. Bakugou, I completely forgot, just in case you are not her pick up-“

“Who said I wasn’t?” He snapped. His eyes widening and he clears his throat, “I uh, I am picking Kasumi up today” God he felt stupid, felt like he was back in highschool, defensive when he was nervous. She made him so nervous, he wanted to impress her. The glorious and fantastic Ms. YN, the woman his little Kasumi loved. Four year olds love super hero’s and cartoon animals, not Kasumi. Bakugou felt like their first impression was going like shit, and he wasn’t wrong.

YN felt like Bakugou rubbed her the wrong way- stand offish and now rude. This isn’t going as planned. He was the “fantastic” father of Kasumi. The greatest person to ever live, in her eyes. She wanted to show him that she was a capable teacher that loved his daughter, but apparently she is showing herself to be incapable.

Clearly, they're both very incorrect

“Ok, the preschool is having a garden party, all the kids, are so excited about showing their families all that they’ve been growing, its next weekend.” YN gives Bakugou the flier. A group picture in front of the barrels holding the ready-to-be-harvested vegetables.

“I’ll um try to make it-“ he affirms, “Anything I need to bring?”

“Nope. Just bring you, and Kasumi of course.” She sends a smile and turn into the class. He can hear her starting the class as the door closes.

Bakugou must think he looks dumb standing in front of the door with his mouth agape but he can’t seem to care, all he can think is “wow.”

He looks down to check the flier and smiles to himself.

It’s 30 minutes before the garden party and Bakugou feel ridiculous. He hasn’t shaved his “beard’ new growth in about 3 weeks and here he is- shaving it and making sure his hair looks absolutely perfect.

Why you might ask? Well, ask Bakugou he would say “I needed to freshen up, the fuck is wrong with that?”

But he knew he couldn’t completely lie to himself, he feels he made a shit impression on Kasumi’s pretty teacher.

“Kasumi- do you need papa’s help?” Bakugou shouts from the bathroom. He knows she’s four and she wants to be a big girl.

“No, I’m a big girl.” She waddles in.

“Yes, yes you are a big girl. Your papa’s big girl- just because you’re a big girl- doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help. “ She pauses and looks at him for a second and then she eventually smiles and nods, “ok papa.”

Now it’s Bakugous turn to pause waiting for her to say something.

“Is that what you wanted to wear to the garden party?” Looking down at her outfit: yellow shirt, purple leggings, and a green skirt.

“Mhm, Ms. YN said to wear all your favorite things.” Bakugou nodded, “I mean- alright then. Let me do your hair munchkin.”

They both finished getting ready and as Bakugou was strapping Kasumi into her booster, Kasumi bent down to sniff her papa’s hair, “Your hair smells like my hair.”

Bakugou used Kasumi’s hair gel.

_

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A/N: hey y’all- took me a minute to get this out. I was planning on making it longer- but I like having little snippet chapters.

I love this story so far. I have a bunch of fun little plans for the characters. Also I love Kasumi-

Alright I’ll talk to you later with much love,

Sweetwriter

[toytulini]

"why are people mad about AI being pushed on them when they SHOULD be mad about all the privacy erosion??"

1) plenty of us bitches are mad and annoyed about both, actually.

2) the privacy erosion has become the normalized state of existence for the average person for the last 10 fucking years at least, its snuck in, they disguise it as Convenient Features to Help You Shop Better, and thats IF they bother telling you theyre doing it, instead of just opting all your shit in without asking, its so fucking normalized that yeah, a lot of people do not bother to question it, they just sigh in resignation and go, yeah, i guess, do i even have other options? and they do, but theyre an investment of learning and time you dont have capacity for at the moment, or maybe you do but you feel like you dont bc it feels like a bigger hurdle than it is, and computer stuff is already kind of intimidating, cos man, what if you hit the wrong thing and brick your expensive ass machine? easier to just let it data harvest, you guess, it cant be THAT bad, can it? plenty of people live like this, put up with this, seek this out, its easier not to resist the privacy erosion. fucking whatever, i guess. yeah, i guess twitter i mean X, or walmart, or facebook, can just have all of my contact info and my phone number and my birthday and phone contacts and bank information and fuck it, give them my ssn while im at it. less effort later. this is just how tech has been for the last 10 yrs. no one can effectively get rage clicks on this topic anymore bc we all fucking know. it sucks and we know. what do you want me to fucking do about it? i have other shit to deal with more urgently. etc

3)

you cant turn anything on or log onto anything or go anywhere without hearing about whatever new shit theyre throwing AI at for no real reason, no one will fucking Shut Up about AI, and its Annoying, man

[anthurak]

I’ve seen some people questioning Vortex’s presence at the ‘Blitzo Sucks’ party in Apology Tour, and even joining Verosika as a backup singer in Stolas’ big breakup song, when he made it clear in his first appearance that he doesn’t really care about his boss’s personal grudges. And even seemed pretty cool with Blitzo when he showed up at Beelzebub’s party in Queen Bee.

So here’s a little theory I came up with that could explain how Vortex went from “Her beef aint mine. I’m not paid enough to care.” to joining his boss backup singing in a song repeatedly calling her ex a motherfucker. Which also might give us a bit better sense of the show’s timeline…

Consider that when we were first introduced to Vortex in Spring Broken, Verosika noted that he was her new bodyguard, implying that Vortex has only known/worked for Verosika for only the last few weeks or months.

Now let’s consider just how much time has passed between Spring Broken and Apology Tour, which as I detailed in this post, we can actually get a pretty good idea of thanks to the episode The Harvest Moon Festival. Basically, unless everything between Harvest Moon and Apology Tour is somehow meant to take place in the scant month-and-a-half between the harvest moon and Halloween (something Blitzo’s comments about Stolas trying to get out of their monthly hookups in The Full Moon actually disproves entirely), Apology Tour is over a full year and a half after Spring Broken.

Now why is this relevant?

Because it means that in all likelihood, when Vortex first met Blitzo, he hadn’t been to a ‘Blitzo Sucks’ party yet.

And I have to imagine that going to one of those likely changed his opinion of ‘his boss’s freaky ex’ QUITE a bit.

Imagine Vortex, generally a pretty chill, friendly guy who likes to get along with people, going the better part of a year hearing bits and pieces of the drama that happened between his new boss and her ex. He probably doesn’t think too much of it. He’s probably seen messy breakups before, knows that his boss has her own issues. When he first hears about the ‘Blitzo Sucks’ party, he probably thinks it’s a bit much, and only tags along because it’s his job.

And then he’s met with the dozens of people who have gotten fucked over by Blitzo. Realizes just how hurt Verosika was, and just how hurt OTHER people have been by Blitzo.

It’s probably in the midst of consoling and comforting some incubus in the middle of a breakdown, rambling through tears about the imp who stomped his heart in, that Vortex decides that yeah, Blitzo fucking sucks.

Maybe not enough that Vortex would actively kick his ass if they ever crossed paths again, as Tex probably still considers Loona a good friend.

But tag along for a second Blitzo Sucks party, which he clearly got his girlfriend to do some catering for and might even be doing for free, joining Verosika on stage for backup vocals, calling Blitzo the motherfucker that he is?

Yeah, he'll do that.

On one other note, this would also place the episode Queen Bee, and with it Ozzie’s and The Circus as taking place before Halloween, as Vortex is pretty chill and friendly with Blitzo in those episodes. Which in turn puts all three of those episodes, plus Truth Seekers and the date of Moxxie’s and Millie’s wedding (the anniversary of which was during Ozzie’s) in September/October.

[ominous-feychild]

✦ Character Voice Tag 3 ✦

Hopping on open tags from @the-golden-comet (X) and @paeliae-occasionally (X)!

Lines used: ✦ "Okay, confess: WHO ate the last bite?!" from the-golden-comet ✦ "I care about your safety" from paeliae-occasionally ✦ "Are you threatening me?" kidnapped from @drchenquill

Your line(s) (pick one or more!): ✦ "Why, I oughtta!" ✦ "I have a terrible feeling about this..." ✦ "Everything's great, nothing's wrong at all!"

Characters from Sun and Shadow: Freya, Crow, Daleira, Maritza, Soren, Faer, Valyarus, Ponderosa, Marlon

“Okay, confess: WHO ate the last bite?!”

Frey: (*smiling ominously*) Hey, who took the last bite? It's okay--I just want to talk.

Crow: WHO POURED OUT MY BLOOD?--I don't care how gross it is!--OR IF YOU FIND IT UNETHICAL??? If it's in a damn container, it's already been harvested! You're just going to make me have to find more elsewhere! Do you know how hard it is to get that stuff? It's not like I just sip that shit straight out of anyone's necks, you know!?!? I try to get it ethically! AND DUMPING IT JUST MAKES THAT HARDER--

Daleira: I put my name on that... 😟

Maritza: Real cool, guys! Just stealing the last bit?? Did you even think to check if anyone else hadn't had any yet?

Soren: (*silent frustration. Won't act on it, though... or at least, not obviously. Will, however, investigate who did it and very subtly sabotage them until he's satisfied. Tbf, it won't take long.*)

Faer: Just know, whoever you are... you're no better than an animal.

Valyarus: (*summons everyone who possibly could've done it into the same room and sets a "truth" spell upon it--making it so everyone inside is unable to lie*) Valyarus: Who stole my daughter's food? (*scans everyone's faces as nobody speaks up*) Valyarus: (*smiles darkly*) Let's try this again. Confess to your crime, have someone else expose you, or have me find out the truth the hard way and face the consequences for making this difficult.

Ponderosa: (*magically slams the doors open with wind, using as much force as they can muster*) WHO STOLE MY TARTS??? WHO???? I'LL KILL YOU!!!

Marlon: (*casually, as though talking about the weather; but loudly, as to make sure everyone in the room can hear*) Whoever it is that took the last of the desserts... (*raises his wineglass and takes a drink with a poorly-repressed smirk*) Marlon: (*finally, looks down at the glass and "admires" it for a long moment before slowly scanning everyone's faces again*) ... I'll send my condolences to your family.

"I care about your safety"

Frey: Look, I--... (*struggling for words, and especially to not say exactly what she means*)... listen, don't get hurt out there, okay? I'd hate to see you hurt. Or... find out that.. worse happened. Crow: (*teasingly, winking and nudging her with their elbow*) Oh? Is there something else you're meaning to say? Frey: (*snaps, throwing her arms up*) Yeah, don't fucking disappear like my dad, got it!? Crow: (*oope, humbled--*) Crow: Of course. Who do you take me for? 😅 Frey: (*avoiding looking at them, turning to leave herself*) Someone who does a lot of dumb and reckless things. Crow: Crow, to themself: (well, that's just mean.)

(later...)

Crow: Hey, uh... Frey? Frey: What's up, bird brain? Crow: 😑 Crow: (*struggling--*) Listen, I just... I'm going to go get my charm refilled from--from the old guy, y'know? Frey: (*looks up from her book*) Yeah, okay?... and? 🤨 Crow: What do you mean, "and?" Frey: You sound like you have something else to say. Crow: Crow: (*looks away, mulling over their words*) Crow: Just... take care of yourself. Frey: Frey: (*frowns, about to ask why that sounds so final--*) Crow: And if I don't come back... I'm sorry. Frey: (*alarmed, quickly stands up--*) Crow: (*sinks and disappears into their own shadow, already teleporting away... to do something incredibly dumb and reckless.*)

(oh btw y'all? Those two scenes are 100% canon. 👀😘)

Daleira: (*first time*) I... I love you, okay? Don't do anything stupid. Daleira: (*any other time; sweetly*) Take care of yourself, don't be an idiot. I love you. 😊

Maritza: Please take care of yourself... Soren: You know I can't promise that. Maritza: I know, but... still. Please. Soren: (*sighs heavily, pinching his nose and scanning the room*) Soren: "My best" is all I can guarantee. Maritza: That's enough...

Soren: (*during an absolutely horrible storm while they're at sea*) When you finish, get below deck. I’ll take care of everything up here. Frey: Don't! Don't stay-- Soren: Freya, somebody needs to steer the ship. And my-- Frey: (*swiping her hand out furiously, crying*) AND I NEED A DAD! Soren: (*face softens for a moment, then hardens again*) Soren: (*sternly*) This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I can control the waves to keep us safe. I just need to make sure you’re all— Frey: THEN COME DOWN WITH US! Do it from below deck! Soren: Freya, as your captain, I order you to go to safety while I steer the ship! Are you going to disobey your captain? Frey: (*venomously*) FINE! What do I care!? ominous-feychild:

(GUESS WHAT ELSE IS A CANON SCENE BTW!? ^^^)

Faer: Are... you sure this is a good idea? Daleira: What? Faer: Doing... this. I just-- Daleira: Look, I'm not arguing with you on this. She needs m-- Faer: Does she really, though? What, worst case scenario they put her in a cell and-- Daleira: Faer. I hate to tell you this, but you know nothing of what this place is like. You stay in here, by yourself, isolating yourself from humanity on purpose. You don't know what they'll actually do to her. Even though she's not guilty. Are you really saying you'd be okay with something like that? Faer: ... I just don't see why it's your responsibility, Daleira. Daleira: (*stunned speechless*) Daleira: Daleira: ... look. If nothing else, I owe her and Soren this much. She came here because of me. But, really? I'm doing this because it's the right thing to do. Think about that, would you? (*magically folds into herself, disappearing*) Faer: ... Faer: (*is, in fact, going to think about that!*)

(also canon, whoops^^)

Valyarus: You shouldn't be mixing yourself in with their business. Ponderosa: (*stirs the wind around the room, drifting toward Valyarus with their face twitching and hair turning into stormclouds*) Ponderosa: Who do you think you are to tell me what to do, old man? Valyarus: You know the answer to that question, Aspen. Ponderosa: (*throws their hands up and flying backwards, accidentally making the winds all the more violent. Zips back forward to jab a finger into Valyarus's chest*) STOP CALLING ME THAT! I'M NOT 'ASPEN'! Valyarus: (*calmly, looking them up and down*) That's besides the point, Asp--... Ponderosa: (*fists and teeth clenched, their "hair" thundering--*) Valyarus: (*takes a slow, deep breath and sighs, closing his eyes for a second before meeting theirs again*) Still. It's dangerous to-- Ponderosa: Yeah, well, I don't care what you have to say! You're not my dad, and I don't have to do SHIT that you tell me to! Valyarus: Isn't that the same thing you said about Saifel? Valyarus: (*oope, went too far--*) Ponderosa: (*FITE!!!!*) Ponderosa: (*barely going to manage to get any hits in, and gets nowhere near actually "winning" the fight. After almost an hour, passes out from magical exhaustion. Valyarus moves them to sleep it off in a guest bedroom in his home.*)

(at this point, just assume these are all canon.)

Ponderosa: (*sneaks into Marlon's office by turning themself into pure air, slipping through the cracks in the window, and appearing full-formed in his office!*) Marlon: (*on the ground surrounded in medical supplies; gritting his teeth as he works on treating his own injuries--*) Ponderosa, shocked: Marlon? Marlon: (*tenses, immediately stopping what he was doing to stand and point his medical scissors like a dagger*) Marlon: (*at the same time, pulled water out of hidden pots to form an array of floating knives around Ponderosa*) Marlon: Ponderosa: (*awkward smile!*) Just me. Marlon: (*half groans, half sighs, but leans against his desk as he drops himself back to the ground and works on treating his injuries again. Much more easily returns the water to the hidden pots*) Marlon: (*curtly, through his teeth*) Sorry. Ponderosa: 'sokay. (*floats a few feet above his head to watch him*) What happened? Marlon: (*doing his best to ignore them above him*) Got jumped. Wasn't prepared for it. Didn't have enough water nearby. Here we are. Ponderosa: (*chews their lip, not understanding the weird feeling in their chest. Are they sick? Did somebody curse them??? That must be it; it would make sense. Lots of people hated them. They'll have to find a shaman to check it out.*) Ponderosa: (*before they can think better of it, blurts*) Have you ever thought about other jobs? Marlon: Marlon: (*looks up at them in shock*) You... do realize that this kinda thing is for life, right? Even if I find a successor, I'm still going to have to look after the mafia after I 'retire'. I'll still have people gunning for my life. Quitting would be even more dangerous than it is for me now. Ponderosa: (*takes a long moment to mull it over and internalize it*) Ponderosa: (*finally, pouts*) That's not fair. Marlon: (*still shocked they even asked, but chuckles weakly and returns to treating his wounds*) Maybe, kid. But I chose this a long time ago. Don't worry about me. Ponderosa: Ponderosa: (*jerks higher in the air, nearly ramming into the ceiling*) WORRIED about you??? What??? I'm not worried!!! Y'know what, you're boring! GOODBYEEEE! (*and hurriedly leaves the same way they came*) Marlon: (*busts out laughing despite the pain*)

(Ponderosa's kinda immortal/Marlon doesn't have any reason to worry about their safety, but I already wrote a scene as close to that as possible in the last post? Here's a prequel!)

Marlon: (*suddenly*) You know, I've been thinking. Ponderosa (*perks up, quickly floating to his side to eye his paperwork*) You have? What's up!? You have something else for me to do? Oooo, please tell me it's destro-- Marlon: (*sighs slowly, ruefully looking up at them*) That's... not quite what I was thinking of. Ponderosa: Ponderosa: (*frowns, confused, and twists their head (and the rest of their body in the process)*) What do you mean? Ponderosa: (*before he can speak, perks up and grins awkwardly*) Oh! It's not about me, is it? Marlon: No, it is-- Ponderosa: (*at the same time*) --Sorry! Both: Ponderosa: (*frowning more*) It's about me? But how, if you're not asking me to do something? Marlon: (*sighs, dropping his pen to massage his nose... and avoiding looking at Ponder. Isn't expecting this to go well*) Well, it is... but it's not for the mafia. It's for you. Ponderosa: Ponderosa: (*slowly drifts upside-down and steadily kicks their feet*) That's weird. What, you want me to try new foods again? (*crinkles their nose, rightening*) Wait, I am NOT trying to make friends again! Marlon: (*drops his hand from his face to meet their eyes, prepared for their temper-tantrum*) I think you should learn to defend yourself without magic. Ponderosa: WHAT!?!?!? Marlon: There's been a mass--! Ponderosa: (*already storming it up in the room*) I WILL NOT!!! Marlon: (*already given up on the papers flying everywhere; shouting to be heard above the wind*) LISTEN! There's been a mass of antimagic devices flooding the market! If you-- Ponderosa: (*plugs their ears and closes their eyes*) LALALA, I'M NOT LISTENINGGGG! Marlon: I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! KID, DO YOU WANT TO DIE!? Ponderosa: (*opens their eyes and drifts backwards, snarling*) Ponderosa: I don't care what you have to say! BYEEEE! Marlon: KID! I SWEAR TO THE GODS-- Ponderosa: (*turns to air and slips through the window*) Marlon: (*face flushed in anger, but admittedly not surprised. Lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh as he scans the mess that is his office. Papers, books, water, furniture, and broken glass is everywhere... and he's going to have to clean it all up.*)

(Bonus: a general "I care about you" that I wrote before realizing it didn't count, haha. Can you tell I love these two?)

Ponderosa: (*flipping in circles in the air*) Marrrrrrlooooooonnnn, I'm booooooredddd! Marlon: (*looks at them over his reading glasses*) I'm doing paperwork. Don't you have anything else to do? Ponderosa: (*pouts, hanging upside-down with their arms under their legs as they watch him*) But you don't want me messing with your grunts! Marlon: (*quirking an eyebrow*) That never stopped you before. Ponderosa: Ponderosa: (*makes a face*) Well, I just don't want to right now! And you can't tell me what to do, so! Ponderosa: (*grins and spins to be right-side-up*) Entertain me! Marlon: Hm. (*skims over his paperwork for another moment before sighing and putting it down*) Fine. I suppose you deserve a treat for good behavior. (*smirks a bit--*) Ponderosa: (*whines*) I'm not a DOG! (*not actually upset; knows he's just joking*)

I love characters who say "I care about you/your safety" without actually saying it, and instead imply it through their actions-- 🥰

"Are you threatening me?"

Frey: I'm sorry, what did you just say? Say that again. I dare you.

Crow:(*can't help a small, goofy grin*) Did you want to try that again? or, alternatively: (*straight-faced unimpressed*) Spare us both the trouble. Walk. away. (really depends on their mood/the timing which one they are, haha)

Daleira: (*freezes, then looks at them incredulously*) I--I'm sorry. You--you do know who I am, right? What I am? I--I don't think you understand-- (*pleadingly*)

Maritza (if a mugging): Listen, whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Just, please, for both of our sakes--don't take this any further. Maritza (if it's political): (*laughs sharply, surprised*) I'm sorry, did you really think that would work?

Soren (if it involves Frey): (*angry head tilt; eyes them with a look of pure, barely-contained rage*) Go anywhere near my daughter--or have anything else do so on your behalf--and I will personally make sure that not only do you never die, but the rest of your miserable existence will be in agony. Soren (excluding Frey): (*quirks an eyebrow*) Are you sure about that?

Faer: (*stunned silent*) His literal cyborg bobcat "pet" Gullveig: (*growls, putting herself between Faer and the person who made the threat*) Faer: (*frowning, steps around Gullveig while meeting their eyes. Calmly*) ... I don't think you know who you're threatening. I spent a majority of my life fighting creatures far stronger than you just to survive. I'd recommend you leave before I decide to take you seriously.

Valyarus (if it's someone significantly weaker than him): (*scoffs, then magically seizes their body and drags them just an inch away from his face, snarling. Evenly, with hints of anger underlying his voice*) I'm sure you misspoke. Would you like to try that again? Valyarus (if it's someone near his level): (*can't help grinning, almost bouncing with joy; maliciously*) Oh, really? Say that again? I'm sorry--I just want to make sure I heard you correctly. Valyarus (if it's someone he knows he can't beat): (*fighting a snarl, maintains a passive expression*) Of course... forgive me, {sir / ma'am / mixter}.

Ponderosa: Who do you think you are? (*literal murder time*)

Marlon (if it's physically): (*eyes them up and down, gauging whether or not he thinks he can beat them in a fight*) Marlon (if he thinks can win): (*laughs, grinning darkly, but anger behind his eyes*) Walk out with your life while I still feel merciful. And hope I don't change my mind after you've left. Marlon (if he thinks can't win): (*subtly presses his "call Ponderosa; I'm in danger" button*) Really?... what are your conditions. (*stalls for time; will defend himself to the best of his ability if a fight starts*) Marlon (if it's political): That's bold of you... so. What makes you think this'll work?

The "someone just threatened them" one was really fun! Haha, then again, they were all pretty fun. The "I care about your safety" one was pretty much all canon scenes that were just floating around my head, so I guess it wasn't too bad to get them put down!

I'm ngl, I wasn't expecting Soren's “Freya got threatened” one to go so far, but I guess it really goes to show his fatherly protectiveness, haha. Despite his major absence in her life, he really does love her more than anything else. 🥺😭

And it's hilarious to me just how much Valyarus loves fighting / craves to fight someone or thing on his level, haha. Curious about that? Leave an ask!

Also, yes, lmao, Marlon is a mob boss and Ponderosa is his willing attack dog... 99% of the time. Curious about that? Leave an ask! 😉

What do you guys think of the formatting of these? My personal outlines are traditionally formatted like this, but I've been told before that my they can be hard to read, so I worry that might also be the case for these. 😅 But, uh, idk how else I'd put them down, haha.

Tag list: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @the-letterbox-archives

@yourpenpaldee @mysticstarlightduck @darkandstormydolls @wyked-ao3 @ashirisu

@urnumber1star @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa + open tags!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[lincolndjarin]

The Thing That Gives

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day thirteen - afab!reader x ezra

prompt : tentacles [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 2.4k

summary : you find yourself in the slimy grip of the unknown.

warnings, etc. : dubcon/noncon (these tags apply to ezra, i wrote a reader who is like really into tentacles), dead dove do not eat, smut, tentacles, reference to pornography (reader reads hentai lmao), sort of tentacle horror i guess lol, reader is into the tenacles of it all like i'm gonna be so honest she's like hell yes about tentacles she's a real weirdo in this (she just like me fr), t in v?? (tencacles in vag??), tentacles in every hole, anal, oral in the tentacle receiving sense, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, ambiguous ending

a/n : i'm so so glad someone requested him with this prompt bc it's so ezra like let's be real. originally i wanted to write something where he's a tentaclly monster and lowkey if people like this i might do that in the future lol. anyhow this is def the craziest thing i've ever written but it was so so much fun, happy friday the 13th!!

“Pretty little thing like you? Shouldn’ta been on the Green in the first place.” 

That’s what that son of a bitch had said when he’d locked you in that abandoned ship ages ago, those words have been replaying in your mind ever since. You’d been skeptical to trust him in the first place, he spoke in strange, strung out sentences and he had a smile that immediately made you suspicious but he’d just been too damn charming. 

It didn’t help that you’d just lost your partner. 

She had been your protector and navigator, as a third generation prospector you were equipped to do one thing, harvest. She had done everything else for you but after an unfortunate incident where her suit had gotten caught on some rubble you were left alone with the entire harvest and no one to watch over you. 

Maybe that’s why you’d been so naive to his allure, and his promises to keep you safe on your journey back to your ship. 

Stupid. 

You practically handed your ship to him on a silver platter. 

“This looks familiar, I think we’re nearby.” 

You had signed your own death certificate with that. 

He’d wrestled you into an abandoned ship minutes later, firmly sealing it shut and taking you entire harvest. He doesn’t even give you enough time to feel angry with those parting words, you just feel dumb. 

It took you days to get out of there. 

You’re lucky you stay stocked up on rations in case of emergencies but you don’t get to feel good about that fact. You’re too busy mourning the loss of your harvest. 

When you finally manage to pry the metal doors open you immediately go off in search of your ship. You’re certain it’s a lost cause. Ezra probably took off ages ago but what else are you supposed to do? So you keep on marching through the Green.

It only takes a few moments more before you’re shocked to see the outline of your ship in the distance. 

Had he somehow missed it? 

Sure he was a scumbag but he was a smart scumbag, he should have found this with ease. It’s an easy hike, down a steep hill and back up another, that’s the quickest, most straightforward way there. 

But of course you fuck even this up, because that’s just your luck these days. 

You stumble over a tree route, tumbling down the hill before your helmet collides with a stone at the bottom, your nose slams against the glass with a sickening crunch and just like that, you’re out cold. 

When you finally come to your senses you’re shocked to find yourself face to face with the man who betrayed you in the first place. You’re used to hearing his sickly sweet, over complicated sentences, you’re convinced he enjoys the sound of his own voice more than anything else on this godforsaken planet. But for the first time since you met him, he’s speechless. 

It doesn’t take much to figure out why, as you blink a few times, clearing up your vision. You rake your eyes across his form, he’s held in place by several slick and constantly moving tentacles, his space suit is in tatters, his helmet thrown to the ground along with your own and you briefly wonder how he’s even breathing, but based on the way his chest rises and falls he’s perfectly fine.

“B-birdie?” He rasps out. Your first instinct is to slap him but you realize quickly that you’re in a similar predicament, your suit discarded on the ground with your limbs being restricted by the throbbing appendages. 

Well this probably isn’t good. 

There’s a lot going on in your head right now. 

You sort of wonder if you died during your fall and this is some sort of afterlife. You’d heard reference to the eternity after this life, people often talked about it but you never really believed it until now. But now you think of the magazines back on your ship and wonder if this is your afterlife, is there some higher power out there who knows you spend your free time looking at dirty magazines featuring people in the exact predicament you found yourself in now? 

That doesn’t exactly make sense though. 

If this was your perfect afterlife it would just be you and the tentacles, why is Ezra here? 

You don’t get much time to question anything going on because the tentacles start pulsing, almost violently, squeezing your limbs tightly before starting to frantically surround you and your ex-partner. 

“No- please, Kevva above.” You watch curiously as a tendril wraps around his throat, he’s a few feet from you, directly across from where you’re propped up. 

You can practically feel the fear coming off of him. You swear he’s about to cry as the tentacles remove his remaining undergarments. 

“Not again, please, please-” His prayers are cut off when one of the pulsing limbs pushes past his swollen lips. You almost feel jealous, is this your afterlife? To watch Ezra living your dream and not appreciating it? You want to feel its sweet caress, sliding into your mouth, slipping under your clothes and holding you with its entire being. You frown, practically green with envy. 

He isn’t even appreciating it. He thrashes and whines through the slimy flesh between his teeth. You don’t have to be bitter for long, the tendrils surrounding you are gentler than his, almost sweet with how they move across your goosebump riddled skin. There’s so many colors, swirling purples and greens and grays until one finally presents itself in front of your face, as if it was looking at you. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it but you open your mouth, letting whatever it is slide across your tongue. Tiny suction cups prodding at your taste buds as it slips further into you. 

You should be choking, or at the very least gagging as it bumps against the back of your throat, but you don’t. Ezra certainly doesn’t seem to have the same luxury, his chest heaves and his eyes water as the tendril in his mouth pushes itself in further. You experimentally let your tongue swirl around the appendage, sucking slightly and you’re rewarded with a sweet taste that hadn’t been there until now, closing your eyes you suck it in deeper, letting it slide further down your throat. 

It’s giving you air. 

That’s how the two of you are still alive, whatever this thing is provides you with it. And you desperately want more. You want to be one of the girls in those comics, you want to be ripped straight out of the magazines you love so much. 

So you moan.

Almost as if to show it how good it makes you feel. How thankful you are. 

And deep within the depths of your subconscious you know how happy that makes it. How long it’s waited to have its affections reciprocated, and in return it is gentle. It doesn’t tear your clothes the way it did Ezra’s, it doesn’t even fully remove them, the tentacles slow from their frenzy as they lift your shirt above the swell of your chest and tug the waistband of your shorts down to your knees. You don’t even get a chance to feel self conscious because at the same time Ezra spits out the tentacle in his mouth, groaning as the remaining scraps of his clothing is fully destroyed, and boy is he a sight. 

How long has he been here? The entire time you were stuck? It looks to be that way, his cock red and aching as the tendrils slide across the already leaking tip. He’s a mess. More so than he usually is. It looks almost painful. How many times has he come? 

You're snapped out of your thoughts when your own tentacles mirror the movements of his. The one in your mouth slowly retreats but you whine, running your tongue against it and it stills, no longer filling your throat but still letting you leisurely suck it. 

Ezra once again opens his mouth to speak but instead of it filling him once more it just slides across the bottom of his face, still rather effectively silencing him. You can feel one of the thicker tentacles spreading your legs, it isn’t much of a strain, the others help keep you balanced. You can’t look down but you’re certain if you did you’d see yourself dripping for this unknown being. You don’t have to wait. It simply slips past your folds and finds its home against your cervix. You almost sound like Ezra now as you scream, except yours is more of a squeal, overjoyed and blissed out as it pulses within you, never actually moving in and out, just expanding and shrinking inside of your weeping cunt. You’re having a bit of trouble focusing in your haze of pleasure but you realize that it moves as one. With every pulse inside of you it matches the pattern when it slides up and down his shaft. 

It’s like he’s fucking you without touching you, sort of.

Although this is better than sex. 

At least for you, Ezra continues to look at you frantically, tears spill from his eyes now and you can tell by how his muscles tense and his balls tighten that he’s coming yet there’s no physical release, it’s like he’s already spent. He doesn’t even have a chance to go soft, the tentacles continue without missing a beat and he’s still hard in their grip. You don’t feel all that bad for him, not after what he did to you, and it’s hard to feel bad about anything when the tendrils wrap themselves around your breasts, circling them until they jut out, a pair of suction cups attaching themselves to the peaks of your nipples, the same happening to Ezra as you both begin writhing. 

Are you even going to be able to go back to normal sex after this? Your first orgasm tears through you violently. Your entire body trembles and you fight the urge to bite down as you scream.    

You can’t possibly ever feel this good again, it’s just too perfect. You assume it can’t get better yet somehow it does, a thing tendril wrapping around your leg before a smaller suction cup latches onto your clit, at that point you’re a goner. Your body evaporates into muffle moans and squeals. It barely even registers when another thick tendril slips between the swell of your ass, pushing into your other hole, taking you completely in its slippery hold. 

Now it’s perfect. 

You watch with wide eyes as a matching tentacle slides up Ezra's leg. 

You’re one in the same, if there was another here with you would they receive identical treatment? You have so many questions that you’ll know you’ll never get answers to, the idea makes you a little sad but almost as if it knows you’re mood has shifted it pushes up deeper into you and you unravel all over again, shrieking as you come, your slick mixing with whatever already coated the tentacles. 

You must be the spitting image of your favorite illustration in the magazines, the page that you can flip to purely based on muscle memory. A woman, vaguely resembling you, stretched out with a tentacle in every hole, you probably look as happy as she does as well, drool leaking from the raised corners of your mouth. 

You want another orgasm, one more would be nice. You aren’t sure how many times Ezra’s come at this point, you do suppose that if it kept at this all day long you might eventually snap, after a certain number of orgasms it would probably get painful. 

In all honesty you aren’t sure you care though, it’s kind to you, whatever it is, a part of you thinks it wouldn’t let you hurt. The moment the thought crosses your mind you come one last time, this one catches you a bit of guard, following the last in quick succession. Maybe you could live like this, here with whatever this creature is, watching Ezra would eventually get sad but you would adapt, this thing, whatever it is, is gentle, and it loves. 

You make a conscious choice to give yourself up to it completely.

You could live here and be happy with this creature. 

And in an instant you’re released, the tendrils slide out of you, setting you down. 

All you had to do was give in to it and it let you go. 

You gasp for air as it drops you to the ground, fumbling for your helmet, taking in several gulps of filtered air as you retch. You’re eternally grateful to the fact that your helmet didn’t crack during your fall. It takes several minutes to find your bearings but eventually you manage to resituate your suit and fix your clothes before you stand face to face with him. Despite watching what you did to escape it doesn’t seem to register with him as he continues to thrash and fight, he must be exhausted at this point. 

Stubborn bastard isn’t ever gonna relax.

Poor thing, you almost feel bad for him. 

Almost. 

You tilt your head as you stare at him, the tendrils still stroking his red straining cock while he gives you a pleading look. But you only have eyes for the case at his feet once you remember its presence. You reach down, taking it in your hands and clicking the locks to see if it’s all still there and much to your delight everything is accounted for, you swiftly shut it and look up at him once more. The tendril slides away from his mouth, it’s giving the two of you a chance to speak.

“Plea-“ His words are cut short as you watch a tentacle tweak his nipple, you reach out a gloved hand to run a thumb over his puffy chest.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have been on the Green in the first place.” You grin at him before crawling out of the ravine, the sounds of his strangled moans follow you until you close the doors of your ship behind you.

Maybe you’ll come back for him. At the very least you’ll come back for the experience of being held by such a creature as the tentacles beneath the earth.

It doesn’t matter all that much. 

Either way you won’t be back until you’re sure he’s learned his lesson.

a/n : ooooo hope everyones having a frightening friday the thirteenth and i also hope everyone enjoyed this lol

[h-didanart]

The time none of you were waiting for has come… it is time for me to dump lore on you all. ‘Who is it today?’ I hear no one ask, why our vengeful pal Agony Ghost Bloodmoon of course!

Agony Ghost is a variation of the Quiet Throes au, in which Bloodmoon ends up dying after The Bastard’s murder attempt. They are extremely fucking pissed and will basically do everything in their power to make Ruin’s life as miserable as it can be. Though I haven’t shared more lore than that, and what I just said wasn’t exactly stated out loud mostly just assumed, and I do have some more lore about how the events at the end of October would play out. So without further ado, here is the lore dump:

As always purple = always has been, blue = recently came up with, green = I just made it up

Trigger warnings- referenced and implied torture and sa

They woke up and immediately were in pain. Every single joint in their body ached, moving hurt, they were given no time to even process where they were.

After a few minutes of them getting used to the ache they looked around and were confused by their sudden change in location, they had been in the Daycare hadn’t they? Why were they at this dusty old lab— Solar’s dusty old lab?

They got up, wincing at their unsteady legs and just now realizing their clothes felt different, just as much as their body. They had been freaking out before and they were freaking out now, they had no idea what happened. They tried to make sense of it all, tried to remember anything that could help them.

And then they did remember. The bad day they had, them blowing up at Ruin, Ruin immobilizing them… all the pain

Their reaction was about the same as chapter five’s, ie. they had a really bad panic attack. Only this time no one came to help them.

It then hit them what could possibly be their situation: they were dead, and Ruin had killed them.

They wanted to believe they weren’t and this was all a weird out of body experience or whatever, Harvest did at least, but when Solar walked into the room he didn’t even spare a glance at them, more focused on a table in the back. They followed him in confusion and on the table saw… themselves.

And that is how they knew.

They were dead.

And Ruin had killed them.

They kinda just stayed in that room for the most part. They watched Solar come by and do stuff in the computers, they watched as their unmoving body remained lifeless, they tried to bring one another comfort but for once it didn’t work.

No matter how hard they tried they couldn’t stop the overwhelming distress and sorrow, it was almost like that’s all they could feel. And anger, in small bursts, towards themselves for letting it get to this point.

It would also be good to add at this point, between having the memories from the start and being able to see the damages their body sustained, the twins are able to figure out what exactly Ruin put in them and what he did with it.

Disgust and horror wouldn’t even begin to describe what they felt.

They laid on the ground for hours on end, not having anything else to do, hopelessness eating away at what remained of themselves. After a while Solar walked by, mumbling something about tools or whatever, quieting down as he spotted the twin’s corpse on the table.

They thought he’d finally put it in the trash, or take what was salvageable to use as spare parts.

They did not expect for him to approach slowly, placing a hand on the table, taking a deep sigh and barely whispering, “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you”

This was their enemy, someone they’d only made a deal with to deal with an issue for them both.

They killed his family, they tried to kill him, and when they are the ones to die he apologizes?

They think for a bit, remembering Solar’s daily check ups since their deal, how they hadn’t seen him that damned day. They remember their senses slipping away slowly as the oil dripped from them, pain dulling and darkness turning to static. They remember a faint shake, something wrapped around their waist, and a feeling of weightlessness before everything truly went away.

He tried to save them.

He did save them.

He just couldn’t save their lives. He… cared enough to try.

He cared.

There was someone who cared.

They had someone who cared.

They follow him around since then, watching him work, curling up beside him, just being around. He makes their anguish lessen.

Through the confrontation they stick by his side. And after the fact as well.

They eye the “cured” Ruin warily, glad that their Solar wasn’t fool enough to fall for the charade. Who would after knowing the shit he did to them? They glare at the broken bastard, for once their anger not directed towards themselves.

It’s a while later when Solar has some free time, he goes back to the lab for their body.

They follow him to a place they faintly recognize, some sort of place to look at the stars, and watch as he buries it under a leafless tree. They both stand there, staring at what would be their resting place.

It feels bad but is also kinda nice.

He had covered them before they died, he had gotten them a pretty grave.

They sometimes wonder what could’ve been if they had lived, if in death he showed this care.

They keep following Solar for a long while, discovering their ability to float, and how they can move things if they really focus. This second one was tested on Ruin, they pushed him off the balcony. It was very funny.

The twins got ideas from this, and having nothing better to do, decided to act on them. Moving things around, a shove here and there, messing with the environment, they started stalking Ruin and making his life difficult.

It was relatively light punishment for what the bastard did, but it brought them glee nevertheless. And then one day, as they were in the Fazcade, they watched the Bastard sneak around, Solar coming by a few moments later, only for Ruin to knock him out. Bloodmoon stared, and a moment later were by their Solar’s side.

It was the first time they showed themselves to someone, and the real start of the haunting.

They’ve been tormenting The Bastard ever since.

Only he can see them, they only speak to him. His patience has deteriorated, it is harder for him to act. They enjoy watching him struggle to keep the facade, watching as he frustratedly cries over whatever plans he had being delayed.

They’ve inadvertently delayed both the creation of Eclipse III and the multiversal collapse. They didn’t even know Ruin was still scheming, though they did figure out he had a clear mind all through October, his reaction to seeing them was all they needed to know. They felt oddly vindicated by that, that it was actually him and not some easily cured virus.

Their feelings of dread and sorrow have mostly shifted to rage and hate, something they’re more familiar and far more comfortable with.

They’ll keep him alive and suffering for as long as they can.

They’ll make him pay for what he did, it’s really only fair.

AND that’s their lore story wise! I’m cheering them on quite frankly, they deserve to go feral on Ruin, make his life hell. Anyways, I’m gonna go on a ramble about their design now because there are a bunch of little details that are there and I want to point out—

First off, the clothes. They are wearing what they had on when they died, so the hoodie, gloves, scarf(?), and the cape Solar tied around their waist, granted I did make that longer both because of the more ghostly look and because I don’t want to draw their legs. Speaking of, their legs are just as messed up as what’s described, basically mutilated, they will fall over if they fully materialize. Their right wrist is broken, hand always in some uncomfortable looking angle, it’s hard to control but they still can move it. Their left eye’s light fully went out, so it’s just a black socket with the occasional white pupil when they’re extra mad or trying to be scary, y’know, FNaF style. The tear tracks in their face are both because of the FNaF ghost style and because they did have those as they died. And not in their physical design but their voice box is broken, static comes out alongside their voice, and they also cannot speak very loud.

More doodles of them :3

Yes that Moon plushy is meant to be an indirect way of representing how messed up their legs are.

:3