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ceilidho · 8 months ago

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.

A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in.

It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time.

Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor.

There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket.

“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill.

“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway.

“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.

“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”

“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”

He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.

“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”

“And there it is.”

You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”

At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged.

A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away.

And then it lingers.

You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.

You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside.

You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head.

When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.

“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss.

Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.

He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what.

You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night.

Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again.

John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.

The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.

You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.

The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”

“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.”

“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”

“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”

“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling.

Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate.

“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”

You frown. “Soap?”

The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”

Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking.

Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years.

There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you.

Like he did.

You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been.

When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get.

His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near.

In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.

John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting.

You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle.

“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone.

John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”

That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”

He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”

And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.

John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs.

It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound.

It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.

Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off.

You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake.

That day comes with another ache you can’t shake.

“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”

John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”

You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.

“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”

That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.

You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.

By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall.

You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.

“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.

John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”

“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him.

All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.

“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.

You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”

When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked.

“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid.

You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”

“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.

“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.

Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back.

“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.

The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you.

You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out.

You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”

As if you could look anywhere else.

He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken.

He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs.

But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft.

“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for.

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss.

You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest.

It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it.

When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants.

Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you.

His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.

“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”

His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”

A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you.

“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming.

John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price

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ckret2 · 8 months ago

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Chapter 46 of human Bill Cipher frantically wishing he was still locked in the Mystery Shack and not getting his wish:

The Eclipse: Part 4

Gravity has fully disappeared from Gravity Falls and Bill finally learns why the Axolotl traveled all the way to Earth to see him. And meanwhile, Ford's in mortal peril.

[SUPER IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: if you're reading this, it means that I've edited chapters 6&7 to make them compatible with The Book Of Bill but I have not edited this chapter yet.

Before TBOB came out, in chapter 7 I wrote that the Ax's deal with Bill was "I'll give you a different form (a human body) in a different time (dropping you a thousand years in the future) so you don't have to see your old enemies" and then Bill stole a time tape to come right back to the 21st century. I've now edited ch 6&7 to make the Ax's deal with Bill "I'll drop you off in Theraprism" and then Bill escaped via reincarnation.

However, this chapter refers to the OLD version of ch 7. That's because there are not physically enough hours in my life for me to do all the editing I want to do as fast as I want to do it.

Things Bill & the Axolotl say in this chapter contradict TBOB and contradict what the new ch 6&7 say. The conversation they're having DOES NOT accurately reflect the fic's current plot. Don't freak out. I'll fix it when I can. - (note added Sept 7, 2024; will be removed when it's no longer necessary.)]

####

There were only two ways to remove a pair of magic friendship bracelets. Either both wearers had to consent to removing the bracelets; or one of the parties had to die. The bracelets weren't active if they were only being worn by one person, and a corpse wasn't a person.

The moment Dipper's soul left his body, the thread connecting the bracelets turned visible again.

Bill immediately yanked off his bracelet. He considered just letting it go, reconsidered considering that Dipper's ghost would probably tattle to Mabel, and carefully, slowly reeled the thread in. Without the magic active, it was just normal embroidery floss. The Axolotl's gravitational pull didn't make Dipper's body heavy enough to break the line, but if Bill jerked it just a little too hard, it would snap.

Bill heaved a sigh when the body was close enough he could grasp its wrist. He grabbed Dipper's head and snarled in his dead face, "This is why I told you to get in the cave." He wrapped the bracelet around and around the tree trunk and Dipper's forearm, muttering to himself, "But does anybody listen to the all-knowing immortal dream demon who's seventy times older than their entire universe? No! No, what could it possibly know! Surely we'll get better ideas from the brain-damaged hick who married a raccoon—"

An immense voice said, "Hello."

Bill froze. He slowly turned away from the beast above Gravity Falls.

The voice said serenely, "Look at me, you 8-karat coward."

He slowly turned toward the beast above Gravity Falls. He swallowed hard, steeled himself, and dragged his gaze up until he met the Axolotl's eye and he was gently tugged into the time and space between time and space. "Oh, heyyy," he squeaked. He forced a pained smile. "Didn't see you there! Haha, hi! Wow! Imagine running into you in this dimension on this planet, crazy."

"Yes, crazy," the Axolotl agreed.

"This isn't a regular part of your commute! I guess you've got some time off," Bill said. "Work must be going well!"

"Pretty well. I scheduled an extended lunch break," the Axolotl said amiably. "How's being human going?"

Bill shot the Axolotl a dirty look.

The Axolotl continued to give him a perpetual smile. "Happy New Year, by the way."

"I'll kill you."

"No you won't."

"Okay look, let's just cut to the chase," Bill said. "Go on. Tell me my punishment."

"Punishment?"

"For! Coming back here instead of staying when you dumped me in 3012. I skipped time while on parole. That's obviously why you're here." He looked down, shielding his face with a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. "So stop wasting my time and tell me how much trouble I'm in. I'm a busy guy, I don't wanna drag this out."

"Well," the Axolotl said, "it appears to me that you're locked in your enemies' home, you can't use doors, and you need to be handcuffed to a child to go outside. Is that enough 'trouble' for you?"

Bill opened one eye. "Wait, so." He looked up skeptically. "You're saying I won't get re-executed for breaking the rules. Or—or get stuck in a worse body."

"No," the Axolotl said. "You'll answer to no jailer's voice; what you do now is your own choice. I moved you by a thousand years to free you from your killers' fears. If you decide then to return, it's your own second chance you burn."

"Ohhh. See, I assumed this entire situation was a... prison... thing. Considering the..." He gestured vaguely at his body. "The flesh prison."

"It's a body. Not a prison. You aren't being imprisoned."

"'Not a prison' my base, if it's not a prison then why can't—" He caught himself before he asked a question, and took a deep breath. "So, there are no rules against coming right back to where I left off."

"Though I think your plan is clunky—not my circus, not my monkey."

"Oh. Okay, great." Bill planted his hands on his hips, straightening up properly for the first time since the Axolotl's arrival. "Huh. How 'bout that. Spent the last two days worrying for nothing!"

"You? Worried?"

"Of course not, I wasn't worried for a second," Bill said. "So if you're not here to punish me—that doesn't explain why you are here."

"Are you asking?"

"You know I'm not."

The Axolotl stared at Bill, patiently awaiting a question. Bill stared at the Axolotl, patiently not asking one.

The Axolotl caved first. "I wanted to make sure you hadn't burned down the dimension yet."

Bill pointed sharply at the Axolotl. "Hey! Hey!"

The Axolotl gave him a look like a toothless gumball learning how to smile.

"Not funny! Seriously, now!"

"I came because you called."

"Wh— When did—?" Bill cut himself off. He thought back to the day he'd spent locked in the bathroom. He recalled the desperate plea for salvation he'd painted on the ceiling. He buried his face in his hand. "That... that was a joke. False alarm."

"I gathered," the Axolotl said.

Bill peeked between his fingers. "But, I did call for rescue. Therefore. You're here to rescue me."

"No."

"Why n—! You said I'm not supposed to be in a prison! You've seen what these humans have done to me!"

"You aren't a prisoner," the Axolotl said. "You're a kidnapping victim. That's outside my jurisdiction."

Infuriating—but it told Bill something important: in the Axolotl's eyes, Bill's captivity wasn't just. And Bill didn't consider the Axolotl any kind of god—he didn't consider anyone any kind of god—but the Ax had a lot of pull in the multiverse when it came to defining the universal concept of justice. That was promising.

"But I do have a keen interest in your case. I wanted to check in on your progress."

Bill gave the Axolotl a questioning look. "'Progress.'"

The Axolotl said nothing. Bill waited. The Axolotl simply continued to smile. "You haven't asked a question yet. Usually you can't wait to get rid of me."

"Under the circumstances," he gestured again at his body, "I didn't think I could afford to waste it."

"I see. However, I do have a meeting I need to get to."

What was the most important thing he could ask. What did he need to know the most. "So... if I learn my lesson or complete my sentence or—whatever I'm supposed to do... will you turn me back into a triangle?"

"I can't and won't do anything else. I've completed my obligation to you," the Axolotl said. "Whatever happens to you from now on is up to you."

That could mean anything from "you're stuck as a human forever and will die in less than a century" to "there's a secret spell on you and when you meet its conditions you'll automatically turn back into a triangle" to "you're already a triangle, you just need to believe in yourself." All Bill knew was that he wasn't getting any help from the Ax.

"It's been a pleasure as always," the Axolotl said. The world slowly began to move again as he gently returned Bill to the dimension he'd come from.

"Wait!" Bill called. He needed to know—was he still a triangle, somewhere on the inside, buried beneath all this flesh and bone? Or had the Axolotl's transformation rotted him to his core—was he now nothing but a human through and through? If he wasn't being punished, why had his suffocating soul been smothered under a blanket of meat? If he wasn't being punished, why had his own corpse stared him in the eye as if it didn't recognize him? "Just one more question before you go!"

"If you have the time. Up to you."

If he had the time? Bill's eyes darted around. Why wouldn't he have the time, what was he missing—?

His gaze locked on Ford. Floating twenty, thirty feet out from the cliff's edge. Oh.

Bill let the Axolotl's gravity drag him to the edge of the cliff before digging a hand into the ground, holding himself in place. Bill was safe; Dipper's body was safe, and his soul could float home once the Axolotl was gone. But when the Axolotl was gone, gravity would immediately come back—0 to 100, just like that—and Ford was dead.

And the Axolotl was already turning away. The millions of axolotls in the water below followed, moving through and out of the lake as though the lakebed didn't exist, migrating in the Axolotl's wake.

Ford was unsuccessfully trying to swim through the air back to land. Several useless feet of cable from his infinity belt floating around him from trying to fling it at the cliff. The best he could do was stretch an arm toward land.

He met Bill's eyes. The only other time Bill had seen Ford this terrified was when he'd threatened to torture the kids.

Bill looked at Ford, looked at the Axolotl—nearly too far to shout to—and looked down. By now, the future death he'd witnessed earlier was so close that Bill could see more than the blood to be left on the rocks. He could see the body—gray hair, tan overcoat, broken. It was just a few moments away.

Stanford Pines was about to die. Bill Cipher was innocent. Dipper was his witness; Dipper, honest goody hero type, could verify that Bill not only repeatedly told them both to stay away from the thing in the sky, but also warned them to anchor themselves right before totality. Everyone at the shack knew he'd protested, knew he'd warned them, knew he'd begged to stay home. There was no possible way Bill could get blamed for this.

And once Ford was dead, none of the idiots in this town would ever find a way to destroy Bill.

Up to you.

Bill didn't stop to think.

He kicked off the edge of the cliff.

He could see, hovering in the air like a golden arc amidst a dozen blurry failures, the path he needed to jump to reach Ford. The Axolotl's tail was already soaring over the town, his sky blue fins rippling like vast, slow sails. If Bill reached Ford before the Axolotl's influence was completely gone, he could fly them over the lake and they might both survive.

They collided. Bill had to fling an arm over Ford's shoulder before he managed to get a grip on his lapel; Ford seized Bill's hoodie in both hands. Ford demanded, "What are you—?" He fell silent as their trajectory took a sudden sharp turn from south to east.

"The lake!"

Ford nodded. Why could come if they both survived. He could already feel weight grabbing onto his limbs. He spared a split-second glance down, but with half the lake floating in the air he couldn't tell if they'd cleared its banks yet. "Have you ever learned to swim?"

"You have to learn?!"

Ford prayed, if Bill drowned, that he was a mortal, and that he wasn't the kind of drowner who dragged other people down with him. "Cross your ankles as tightly as you can, cross your arms over your chest, land feet first in the water—better to break your legs than your neck—do not tilt your head, eyes on the horizon—" And that was as much emergency survival advice as he could give before gravity returned in full force.

This wasn't the first time Ford had plummeted into a deep liquid from an irresponsible height over the past thirty years. The hit was softer than he expected—the turbulent lake hadn't settled back down into its normal water pressure—but he also sank far deeper than he expected. Streams of bubbles raced past his vision; maybe it was just the power of suggestion, but he could have sworn they looked like transparent axolotls.

As soon as he had his wits about him, he threw off his coat, tugged off his boots, and kicked his way toward the surface.

Bill didn't.

This actually wasn't so bad, he thought, with a calmness that definitely came from being such a rational level-headed fellow and not from being in shock. Sure, all the air had been forced out of his lungs and his body was screaming in airless panic, but he wasn't his body, was he? This felt just like floating. He would miss floating again.

What was he supposed to do now.

He'd seen humans swim. He tried kicking his legs. He felt stupid. But, he decided—again, with a calmness that definitely was not from shock—that looking kinda stupid was probably preferable to drowning. Although he was curious what drowning felt like. Had he ever drowned a puppet before? He couldn't remember. Didn't seem bad so far.

He surfaced.

Ford was already on shore, on hands and knees, desperately coughing out water, his lungs burning. He collapsed in the sand. It took a couple minutes for him to reach the point where he was breathing more than he was coughing, and another minute of heavy breathing before he had the energy to look at the lake again. Bill was floating on his back about fifty feet away, very still.

Ford croaked, "Bill," coughed again, and tried a little louder. "Bill?"

Without otherwise moving, Bill raised one arm and gave him a thumbs-up.

Ford dug into what energy reserves he still had, shuffled back into the water, and swam over to Bill. "Are you all right?"

Bill gave him a dazed look, opened his mouth, and exhaled a cup of water. Then he started coughing.

Ford grimaced. "Let's... get to shore." He took Bill's arm to tug him toward dry land.

Bill flailed upright and shoved him off. "Don't—" Hack. "M'fine. I l—" Cough. "I like floating." He lay on his back, shut his eyes, and said shakily, "Don't touch me."

Ford treaded water for a moment, considering that. Bill looked like he'd got the hang of floating enough that he wasn't an immediate drown risk, so Ford said, "I'll... be on land."

"'Kay."

Ford swam to shore and sat cross-legged in the wet sand to wait, staring down at his hands. The Handwitch's ring was a bright indigo blue again, no traces of darkness within the cabochon, as though the lake water had washed it clean.

Should he go do something useful? There weren't many places Bill could go, except to shore; it wasn't like he was at risk of escaping. But then if Bill did make it to land while Ford was distracted, he had a chance to make a run for it without the bracelet—

Ford stood up. "Bill! Where's Dipper?!"

Bill raised one arm and pointed up.

Ford looked at Gravity Peak. A small speck high above, Dipper was looking down over the cliff's edge. Ford waved to him. Dipper waved back. Well. That was inconvenient. Maybe Ford could restrain Bill with the infinity belt's cable in the meantime. (He reeled the cable in while he was thinking about it. He was fortunate it hadn't tangled on anything while he was underwater.)

"We have to rendezvous with Dipper. Get over here."

"Just leave me."

"Not an option."

Bill let out a pitiable whine, but, after a moment, managed to figure out a way to slowly paddle-kick his way toward land.

When his heels hit sand, he rolled over, crawled onto land, and lay down. "Gravity," he groaned. "I hate gravity."

"I'm not too fond of it myself right now." Ford's limbs felt like lead. Some combination of spending a day and a half in steadily reduced gravity, the exhaustion following a near death experience, and waterlogged clothes. "Where are the enchanted bracelets?"

Bill lifted one hand from the elbow and pointed toward the cliff again.

That'd be just Ford's luck. All the same, he said, "Really?" Bill would hide them if they were on him.

"Yes, really. Whaddaya want, a strip search?" He gestured vaguely toward his body without lifting his head. "Go ahead. 'M not moving to help." His arm flopped back down.

Ford decided that was a bluff he did not want to call. "Fine. We'll put them back on when we rendezvous with Dipper." If Bill tried to escape, Ford wasn't sure he was in any condition to chase; but then Bill didn't seem to be in any condition to run, either.

"Surprised you wanna wear matching bracelets with me. If I'd known, I woulda made you a friendship bracelet." Under his breath, Bill muttered at the sand, "But m'sure it'd've been a waste of thread."

Ford decided it was more prudent to hold his tongue. "Can you walk?"

"If I have to." For as difficult as Bill made getting to his feet look, one would think he was being subjected to the gravity of Jupiter. Ford offered his hand; Bill smacked it aside.

"Well. My raft is still in the cave behind Trembley Falls, so we'll have to borrow a boat." Ford pointed toward Tate & Backle's Bait & Tackle at the far end of the lake. "Think you can make it that far?"

Bill—barefoot, soggy, and slumped like he had the whole weight of the world on his shoulders—gave Ford the most pathetic look he'd ever seen Bill wear. Ford empathized completely. But Bill only sighed and said, "Let's get going."

####

Tate lowered his magazine to give Ford a critical look. "Dr. Pines," he said. "You get caught out on the lake when the gravity came back?"

"Something like that."

He shook his head. "Shoulda listened to the news."

"The news?"

"Dad's been making public warnings since yesterday. 'Stay anchored and keep your head down.' Reckon you must've missed it."

"We've... been camping." He'd have to ask Fiddleford about that later. "Listen—do you have a boat we could borrow? It's an emergency. We were separated from Dipper and we have to get across the lake."

Tate raised his hat just enough to give Ford a look that told him exactly what he thought of his merit as a guardian—Ford figured he deserved that—but then stood with a sigh. "All right, I'll see what we've got."

He paused, then gestured behind Ford with his chin. "Who's the lady?"

Ford turned. The shop's door was propped open and Bill was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed tight, staring blankly out across the lake. "Er—Goldie. She's... staying in the shack a few weeks."

"Hm." Tate raised his voice. "Ma'am?"

Bill didn't budge.

"Ma'am—Miss Goldie?"

That time he turned to give Tate a faraway look. "Me?"

"Yes, uh—you're soaked to the bone. Would you like to borrow some dry clothes?"

"Oh." Bill considered the question for a little longer than necessary. "If you want."

Ford explained, "She inhaled a lot of water."

Tate nodded. "Think we've got some out-of-season stock in the back, there might be something big enough for..." He caught himself before insinuating something about a lady's weight, and mumbled, "Well, it'll do." He headed to a door behind the counter, paused, looked Ford over, and reluctantly said, "I s'pose you can get something too."

####

Tate had a motorboat in good working order, so he let them borrow it, with a stern request to have it back by the end of the day. And so they set out—Ford in waders that went up to his chest, a bandana he really hoped was keeping his embarrassing neck tattoo hidden, and a t-shirt that said "The worst day of fishing is better than the best day of court-ordered anger management classes"; and Bill in a makeshift skirt Tate had apologetically improvised out of a beach towel, a sweater depicting a pine tree constructed out of fish that said "MERRY FISHMAS", and a pair of novelty slippers shaped like rainbow trout.

"I'm never giving these shoes back," Bill informed Ford as they crossed the lake. "I don't care whether we buy them or steal them. They're hilarious." It was the nearest thing to personality Bill had demonstrated since landing in the lake.

Ford supposed he was in no position to tell Bill he couldn't keep them, considering that Bill had... well.

Well.

Ford should say something about that. He didn't know what. He didn't know where to start. (Bill's question came back to him: if Ford didn't believe anything Bill said, why did he keep trying to pry information out of him?)

(Because, he realized—beneath thirty years of every nerve in his body screaming "DON'T TRUST HIM"—part of him was still hoping Bill would say something he could believe.)

Ford cleared his throat. "It's... impressive that you didn't panic while you were underwater," he said awkwardly. "That must have taken remarkable self control."

"Oh. Eh." Bill spread his hands vaguely. "I wasn't really paying attention to what was happening. I was thinking about other stuff."

Ford blinked. "While you were drowning?"

"It wasn't a very severe drowning."

Ford huffed.

This was probably a conversation he should have later—Bill's brain only appeared to be half on—but, if they had it later, Ford wasn't sure he'd get anything but yet another polished lie.

And so he steeled his nerves and asked, "Why did you save me."

Bill didn't answer. He stared silently at his rainbow trout slippers.

"Bill—?"

"Hold on," he said. "I don't know, just—give me a minute to make something up."

It was the first time in a month and a half—the first time in years—that Ford was absolutely certain Bill had just told him the truth.

And not just about his intentions to lie to Ford—but about not knowing why he'd saved him.

It meant there was no secret master plan, no manipulative ulterior motives, no cunning illusions. It meant Bill had endangered himself just to save Ford.

There was a universe where Ford then said, "I didn't think you meant it all those times you said you wanted to be my friend again," and where Bill lied—both to Ford and to himself—"I didn't think I meant it either." It wasn't this universe, because neither one of them wanted those words out in the world. Yet they still hovered around them, unspoken.

It didn't make Ford trust Bill. It didn't make Ford like Bill. Bill was still everything he'd ever been—liar, conman, tyrant, torturer—and Ford still hated him for all of it.

But. It meant that for the first time in a month in a half, a muscle between Ford's shoulder blades that had been knotted tight with fear could finally loosen and relax.

Ford was safe.

####

(I first had the idea for this chapter nearly a year ago and I've been dying waiting to post it. I hope you enjoyed, and I can't wait to hear what y'all think! And to those of you in the path of totality, happy solar eclipse this Monday! I totally planned it this way. I did not.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #stanford pines #grunkle ford #the axolotl #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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solxamber · 20 days ago

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HEHEHGIGUGI ITS ME AGAIN THE SERAPHIM AND THE CAT ONE

Can i request a witch reader with Vil, Rook, Trey, and Malleus!! (I forgot if its 4 limits or 5, whoops but only that) You can write however you like if its headcannon or how you write it!! Also can you do it on Romantic shshsh‼️‼️🫶🫶

Rook, Trey, Malleus, Vil with a Witch! Reader

hi! thank you for waiting and i hope you like it <3 (also there aren't limits for number of characters)

Rook Hunt

Rook, a true romantic and ever-curious soul, is constantly mesmerized by your craft. He adores watching you work, fascinated by every detail, and often appears just as you’re about to cast a spell, like he knows exactly when something extraordinary is about to happen.

One evening, he surprises you mid-ritual, leaning in to whisper, “Ah, the witch at work, casting beauty into the world.”

“Rook!” you laugh, a little flustered. “Aren’t you supposed to give me space to concentrate?”

“On the contrary,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Watching you brings me closer to the divine. It’s as if each spell you cast is an invitation to witness your heart.”

As he speaks, he presses a kiss to your hand, his words a spell of their own. You find yourself captivated by the unique magic only Rook can create—a blend of curiosity, charm, and unshakable devotion.

Trey Clover

Trey is both grounded and warm, and he respects your magical abilities without a hint of fear. Whenever you experiment with potion-making, he’s your quiet supporter, ready with any ingredient you need.

One evening, you’re preparing a special love potion—just for fun—and Trey chuckles as you explain the recipe.

“What, you don’t believe in love potions?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I believe,” he replies, pulling a stray leaf from your hair, “but I don’t think you need one. You’ve already cast your spell on me.”

You feel your face heat up, but Trey simply smiles, his gaze gentle and warm. He reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Let’s skip the potions,” he says softly. “You and I don’t need magic for this.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is captivated by your magic, drawn to you as if he’s known you for centuries. He’s endlessly curious about your spells, often standing nearby as you perform them, his eyes watching with reverence.

One misty evening, he finds you crafting a charm under the moonlight. As you finish, Malleus steps forward, his expression unusually soft. “Your magic… it has a warmth that even my fae spells lack.”

“You flatter me, Malleus,” you reply, smiling up at him. “I’m honored to have caught the attention of someone so powerful.”

He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles with an old-world elegance. “Power means little to me if it cannot protect what is precious.” His gaze is intense, holding yours. “And you, my dear witch, are precious indeed.”

Under the stars, Malleus’s words hang in the air, leaving a warmth that feels like it could last an eternity.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil has always been enchanted by beauty in its many forms, but there's something about your magic that captivates him in a way he never expected. He watches you as you work, studying your movements as if each one were part of an intricate dance. One evening, he finds you under the warm glow of candlelight, carefully crafting an enchantment, your hands moving gracefully over the ingredients.

He steps closer, his voice smooth and gentle. “Do you realize the spell you’ve woven on me without even trying?” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on you.

You smile, slightly flustered but intrigued. “I could say the same about you, Vil.”

Vil reaches for your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Then perhaps I’ve found the magic that surpasses any potion, any spell.” His gaze is intense, unwavering, as if he’s seeing right through to your soul. “Stay close to me, won’t you?” he asks softly, the hint of vulnerability in his words surprising but endearing.

With a smile, you nod, finding comfort in his presence. Vil leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his touch gentle and reverent. “You’re more captivating than any beauty I’ve ever known,” he whispers, his voice filled with a sincerity that leaves your heart racing.

In that quiet moment, it’s clear that he isn’t just drawn to your magic—he’s drawn to you.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #trey clover x reader #trey x reader

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stoat-party · 17 days ago

Text

Every Fallout 4 Companion’s Approximate Birth Year (Part 3/3)

CVRIE — 2076

I assume Miss Nannies went out of production when the world exploded.

Codsworth — 2077

His box is still in your house during the prologue.

He also mentions enjoying the “months” he’s spent with you, though he might mean since Shaun was born.

Nick — 2175

We know it was over a century ago, but it can’t have been too far prior to the Gen 3 rollout around 2227.

I think Nick is the older brother, because it makes sense to start by creating a synth with stored personalities before trying to make one that develops a personality autonomously.

Longfellow — 2223

This man is only in his SIXTIES, they are LYING TO YOU

The Children of Atom were full-fledged on the Island when Longfellow was young. Confessor Cromwell is the one who sent them to Maine.

But he couldn’t have become Confessor until the mid-2250s, because he’s only FORTY-FOUR in Fallout 3, and he had a background as a trader before that! AND there still had to be time for the Children to travel all the way to Maine.

So Longfellow was born in the twenties, had his sad backstory in the fifties, and is about 65 in Fallout 4.

Strong — 2230

Strong could have been anyone, but I think he was either a divorced dad who would’ve been an accountant in another life, or just Mayor McDonough.

Hancock — 2235

Is 53-year-old Hancock controversial? Let me cook.

There’s support for the theory that synth McDonough was created before the election in 2282. We can assume the human had full gray hair at that point, because synths don’t go gray. So he was probably in his fifties at least.

John was younger, but he can’t have been that much younger. So he was probably ghoulified in his late forties.

Deacon — 2245

If you accept the John D. theory, this does put him a little on the young side, but it fits.

Gage — 2251

There’s not much backstory from his teens up to 2286, and I’m tempted to believe it was a shorter period. But he has late-thirties eyes.

…Eye.

Cait — 2260

Her parents helpfully drew the line at child trafficking, so we have a good idea of her age. She was 18 when she went into slavery and about 23 when she left.

Some time later, she spent about three years at the Combat Zone. Assuming some buffer room between the two periods, I put her at 27 years.

Danse — 2261

He’d have lived in the Institute for awhile, then Rivet City, then the Brotherhood.

He was already a paladin in 2277, but Maxson says it took him “many years” to become one.

Preston — 2262

I don’t know what it is about him that screams 25-year-old to me.

He joined the Minutemen at 17, then had “a few good years” before 2282 when Becker died.

MacCready — 2264

He was twelve in August 2277, and at that point he’d been mayor for three years.

He became mayor at ten. So he’s got to be nearly thirteen at the start of Fallout 3, which would make him 23 in Fallout 4.

Piper — 2166

Nat seems 13 to me.

If Piper is old enough to have taken care of her as a baby, but not old enough to have significant memories of their mother, 21 sounds about wright.

Curie — 2277

Glory escaped the Institute in 2280, and she and G5 had known each other for some time before that.

Ada — 2281

Jackson seems to have created her reasonably recently.

Dogmeat IV — 2285

I think he is ouppy:)

X6-88 — 2287.

Yeah, I said it.

This man thinks he’s so evil but he’s an actual baby.

My reasoning is that he wishes he had been there to see the University Point massacre in 2286, but apparently wasn’t.

It makes the game so much funnier.

If he was born earlier in the year, he could have been trained in time for the Kellogg flashback.

Part 1

Part 2

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agatharkn3ss · 2 months ago

Text

Spoilers!

Theory on Agatha/Rio past

We know Rio joins the coven next week, climbing out of (what looks like) Sharon's grave and will be part of the next trial.

We also get a sneak peak on how the trial starts - but in the extended version, after the coven disperses to find the clue, we see Rio standing behind Agatha and saying "boo". Agatha seems stirred but eventually she replies a very decisive "No".

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAEWgBZIVeT/?igsh=MW5wcHJtbjJ1N3I3NA==

Now - I, for one, would love this brief moment to be about the sexual tension and how they can't keep away from each other. However, I think Rio's unspoken suggestion is actually about killing the rest of the coven. Especially that in another promo we hear Agatha telling Rio that "she needs these witches to get her what she wants".

So I think their past might be something like they were always just the two of them together against the world, and that they used to find witches for Agatha to syphon power from, and Rio would help her. This would sit well with Rio's chaotic energy and the theory that she's Lady Death.

I also think that despite all her bravado, Agatha actually longs to be a part of a coven. After her own mother's coven turner against her, she would've tried to form her own sisterhood. We see in a promo that she's sucking energy from a group of women around her, so probably another coven turning against her for whatever transgression this time.

It's probably caused by something Agatha did (although in my eyes she can do no wrong!), but I wonder if at some point Rio doesn't start meddling here.

Maybe Rio meets Agatha and becomes fascinated by this loud and unapologetic witch, so she wants her all for herself. She starts meddling so that Agatha is more and more isolated and betrayed by other witches and begins to think that maybe a coven is not something she wants any more and that she can only rely on herself and Rio. Eventually she gives in and the two of them enjoy their lives together, causing chaos and tricking other witches for a few centuries - something akin to Louis and Lestat in the Interview with the Vampire (maybe they even split up because of a child, like the vampires?)

We don't know how long it's been since they've been apart, but we know it's since Agatha acquired the Darkhold, so probably a fair chunk. But now Rio found her again and she misses Agatha and wants back the chaos life they led. She was never intent on killing Agatha, I don't think, but she wanted to see her hurt. But when she finds out Agatha doesn't have her powers, she realises it will be tricky to go back to where they were until Agatha has magic again. She starts scheming again, maybe she even hopes that Agatha will be able to syphon the Salem Seven? Or that Rio can play the hero, save Agatha and show her how much Agatha needs her?

But instead of fighting or running, Agatha assembles a coven. And she actually seems to enjoy it - I mean, look at them singing the ballad. Even though Agatha is impatient to open the gate or get some magic blasts flowing, she does take a pause at the end of the song, clearly enjoying it.

In episode 3 she has her soft moments too. She clearly doesn't feel like part of the sisterhood yet, because she's wary of her past experiences - she tries to protect herself by offsetting any moments of kindness with some jerk behaviour (I think that's the only reason she kicked everyone after sliding out or the first trial) and show them she doesn't need them. But you can tell she fits into her role as a leader so well and maybe even is surprised by it. And just look how she enjoys herself in episode 4 band!

I think Rio is opportunistic, so after Sharon's send off, she sees her way in, but what are her intentions for joining?

She might just enjoy the chaos and hope for fun "like the old times", maybe expecting Agatha to intend to kill the witches like before. Or she might want to keep meddling so that Agatha doesn't abandon her for a coven. Or there is something else and she actually wants something from the Road? Or all of the above?

#agatha all along spoilers #agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #rio vidal #aubrey plaza #agathario #agatha x rio #rio x agatha #lady death #coven #agatha all along theory

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devildomwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Every “I Love You” Vol 1-4

Lucifer

22-C

Lucifer: “I love you. Truly and deeply.”

28-15

Lucifer: “I never knew I could feel this way. I never knew I had such passion inside me. MC…I love you.”

28-19 (2)

Lucifer: “MC, I love you. Well, we may not be on stage now, but I’m happy to say it again. As many times as you’d like. I love you, MC. Truly and deeply…”

38-9

Lucifer: “I love you, MC. Truly. As much as I’d like my memory back, and to remember everything that’s happened, there’s something I want even more… I want to know how you feel about me.”

38-9 (2)

Lucifer: “I love you, too. With all my heart. How many times have I told you that before? Because I want to tell you so many more times that my old self did. …In fact, no matter how many times I might say it, I feel like it will never be enough. I love you, MC. Kiss me. If I told you that I actually feel jealous of the old me, would you laugh…?”

40-22

Lucifer: “I love you, MC. There’s no need to say goodbye. Because we’ll see each other again. Soon.”

41-19

Lucifer: “I love you… It’s strange… We haven’t been apart long at all, yet it feels like it’s been a century. Why is that?”

Mammon

25-17

Mammon: “MC…! You’re the best! You never let me down, and it’s just…amazing! YOU’RE amazing! I love you, MC! More than I’ve ever loved anyone!”

29-12 (2)

Mammon: “I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I CAN’T STAND IIIIT!”

MC: “…?!”

Mammon: “I want to [CENSORED], [CENSORED], and [CENSORED] like there’s no tomorrow!”

33-14

Mammon: “Like, what it I accidentally let it slip that I love you, huh?!”

33-14

Mammon: “I love you so much it’s crazy! Like, so much that my stomach fills with butterflies and my heart jumps out of my chest! I think about you all the time, even when you’re not around! Like, I feel like I’m losin’ my mind!”

33-14

Mammon: “And I like you, MC. …I love you, actually. So, what about you? Come on, say you feel the same way, MC.”

33-14

Mammon: “Yeah…I love you too. Like, so much it’s crazy. I mean I love Lucifer and my other brothers too. I love ‘em to death, honestly. But with you it’s different. It’s special…”

43-15

Mammon: “Dammit! Like I could ever really say that to you! I love you MC! And I’ll NEVER break up with you, okay?! NEVER!”

53-9

Mammon: “I love you, MC! And I’d take you over money any day!”

Leviathan

48-4

Leviathan: “Um…listen, MC… …Thanks. I love you, too. And I really appreciate that you’d say that to me. But that’s also why I want to learn to take pride in myself. Because I want you to love me even more than you already do…”

48-9

Leviathan: “…Ugh, what do I do? I’m not so sure I want to let you go after all. You’d better leave before I change my mind. Oh, but make sure to come back once you’re done with whatever it is, okay? …I love you, MC.”

Satan

21-14

Satan: “Mm, it finally feels real now. You really are back. I love you, MC. Welcome home.”

42-10

Satan: “After all, you already have me. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Isn’t that right? I love you, MC…”

Asmodeus

13-20

Asmodeus: “Hehe, I knew that already. I love you too, MC. Though I think I’d rather have you tell me that while lying next to me in bed.”

19-70

Asmodeus: *sigh* “Oh, wow. All you did was kiss me, and I feel like I’ve died and gone to the Celestial Realm…! I love you, MC… I love you more than anything!

22-10

Asmodeus: “Mmhm… I feel the same way. I love you too, MC. I absolutely adore you!”

31-2

Asmodeus: “Hehe. I love you, MC. So much it’s crazy…”

31-2

Asmodeus: “Oh MC! I love you SO MUCH!”

32-19

Asmodeus: “Whaaat? You mean I can’t kiss you? Ugh, you’re so meeean! Still, I just can’t help loving you! I love you SO MUCH, MC!”

34-1

Asmodeus: “MC, does that mean you believe me? Hehe, you’re absolutely adorable. I love you so much, MC!”

39-18

Asmodeus: “I love you SO MUCH. More than words can describe…”

41-7

Asmodeus: “I love you so much, I can barely contain myself… Ugh, I can’t take this any longer…”

54-1

Asmodeus: “Wait, are you saying I don’t need to use my powers on you? You just find me naturally charming? Oh MC, you’re SO sweet! I love you to death!”

60-22

Asmodeus: “MC, you’re so adorable. I love you, and I’m going to miss you so much. It’s going to be unbearable…”

67-9

Asmodeus: “Hehe, thank you! Oh MC, there aren’t even words to describe how much I love you.”

67-9

Asmodeus: “I thought I’d use my butt to express just how I feel about you, MC. I love you, and I want you to know it.”

Beelzebub

45-18

Beelzebub: “Mm… …Okay, I was wrong. I don’t actually like you. I love you.”

46-19

Beelzebub: “You remember when I gave you my star, right? And now here you are giving ME a star… I promise that I’ll always treasure it. Always and forever… I love you, MC.”

69-17

Beelzebub: “Well, it’s the same with me. You’re always on my mind. I love you, MC…”

80-10

Beelzebub: “I’ve been waiting so long to do this… For it to be just the two of us alone… I love you, MC…”

Belphegor

20-11

Belphegor: “But even if you go back to the human world, I’ll always love you, MC. Because there’s no one else like you anywhere. Not in the Devildom, not in the Celestial Realm, not in the human world.”

41-14

Belphegor: “I love you, MC. You have no idea how much…”

55-18

Belphegor: “Come on, try to keep still. …Here, let me put my arms around you. I love you, MC. …I love you so much, it’s crazy.”

80-10

Belphegor: “I mean, I can’t go to sleep now. Not when it would mean missing out on this… I love you, MC…”

Simeon

52-17

Simeon: “Here, let me look into your eyes. I love you, MC… The question is, how do you feel about me?”

71-17

Simeon: “You know that one song that’s been really popular with everyone at RAD lately? Well, it sums up how I feel about you perfectly. It goes like this. “I was wandering, hurt, lost in an endless night, and you reached out to me… Nestled against each other, we wished that morning would never come. No one can know, no one can know. But I love you so deeply it hurts”…”

71-17

Simeon: “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been hoping to hear you say that. Thank you. Thank you for always being there for me. I love you, MC.”

Diavolo

56-18

Diavolo: “If you’d be okay with it, I’d actually like it if we could do this sort of thing more often. You know, spend more time together. I’m just going to come out and say it, MC… The truth is…I love you

56-18

Diavolo: “I love you so much. You’re so, so precious to me that I can barely take it. Can I kiss you?”

56-18

Diavolo: “I love you, MC. And I’m so happy to know you feel the same way about me. Thank you.”

56-18

Diavolo: “Well, even if you don’t have feelings for me, that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I still love you

80-14

Diavolo: “It’s hard getting you alone. After all, wherever you go, Lucifer and his brothers are sure to be nearby. But right now I have you all to myself… I love you, MC…”

Ranks

1. Asmodeus (13)

2. Lucifer/Mammon (9)

3. Diavolo (5)

4. Beelzebub/Belphegor/Simeon (4)

5. Leviathan/Satan (2)

6. Solomon/Thirteen/Barbatos/Mephistopheles/Michael/Raphael (0)

#Solomon and Barbatos never say it directly but it’s heavily implied #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me simeon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me thanks #obey me request #obey me quotes

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olderthannetfic · 1 month ago

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In 21 years of writing fanfic, I had never had a comment genuinely make me feel frustrated and exasperated enough to rant. That ended yesterday, with someone getting annoyed by my use of the word 'minor' in a story. Bruh. A character who is a lawyer is going to differentiate between minors and adults because the law treats them very differently. I don't know how it works abroad, but in the United States, the law does factor age into things. A 4 or 14 or 24 year old have different levels of responsibility for their actions/capacity to understand their actions and therefore culpability in a court of law.

"Minors is insulting! Say kids!" This dude is a lawyer. He canonically says "minors" and "adults" in the source material. The character is referring to is a teen, not a child, also. Teens are, depending on the situation, usually not legally treated as adults in a court of law. They are, in criminal cases, treated differently from a child who is a preteen. Again, 4 and 14 are massively different ages cognitively and developmentally.

"I hate when people call kids teens or minors. It's degrading language." Teen means 13 to 19. Minor means under the age of majority, which in the country canon is set in is 18 years of age. 5/7ths of teens are under the age of majority. All of them are teens.

"Making him say minors feels predatory like he's not even acknowledging that's an actual whole-ass child!" He is not calling the 14 year old an adult. He is not preying on them. Legal documents from papers to the law to statements make this difference noted not because all these people wanna bang the 14 year old but because 14 is not an adult.

"Why can't he just say kid like a normal person?" Because kid is not a legal term. Child, defined as under 13 or under 18 depending on the law, does sometimes pop up, but you'll see the word minors a lot all over US law. Everywhere. All the time.

And before someone says, "ugh, the commenter must be an annoying teen/kid/minor", while you'd like to hope so, I saw their fandom tumblr (same name) pop up in a reblog of a post and clicked on the bio.

They're 35, soon to be 36. This isn't a 19 year old arguing teens are kids because seeing how teens act at his college has convinced him these aren't adults (which would be a fair argument; I have seen some silly, silly freshman, living three blocks from the university). This is someone old enough to have a teenager arguing that "minor" and "teen" are somehow morally wrong words to use.

I genuinely do try not to use offensive language unless it's in-character. I don't write everyone as a snarky MCU style everything-is-a-joke you-suck-lmao jackass. But this is in-character. And more than that, this is how people talk every single day in the real world and have for centuries.

This is the only truly can't-get-it-out-of-my-head baffling comment I've ever gotten. My comment luck has always been great, but I guess it had to run out sometime. (Not that I haven't had rude comments. It's just that the rudeness made sense in what the person hated.)

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yuriisclumsy · 8 months ago

Text

╰ Description: Snaps from my Google Doc "Thoughts and Ideas." It's a diary with some thoughts that come from my mind when they are being intrusive–AKA thoughts I have at 1 AM. Separate from other works, unless It's for a series. Putting this just to clarify misunderstandings.

What if there was an AU for [Name] being one of the top ranked mages in twisted wonderland?

╰Description: [Name] is one of the top mage in Twisted Wonderland, right after Malleus Draconia.

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

—April 8, 2024—

Thought… What if there was an AU for [Name] being one of the top ranked mages in twisted wonderland. Like, there is a venue at NRC with everyone invited. Even parents were allowed entry. So the parties PACKED. And then a murmur amongst the students gave rise to a NEW racked mage, saying it was a girl in her teens. Then, an announcement was made, that there was a new Top Rank list.

EVERYONE was shocked. I mean, Imagine that the last change for this list was over 10 years ago, the youngest and last on the list being 32 years old. And all of a sudden, there is a new member on the list? Firstly, it is very difficult even REACHING the top 100, let alone the top 10. Just who is this girl?

As they announced the new list, they went from bottom to top, starting from 10. Number 10, (is now the previous 9th place). This stunt people. It wouldn't be that surprising if number ten was the one being replaced. But for it to go one down…means that the girl was in a higher position. Number 9, (previous 8th place). Number 8, (previous 7th place). Number 7, (previous 6th place). Number 6, (previous 5th place). The more people listened, the more wide eyed they got. There was simply no way a young girl got on the top 5 in one go. That’s just impossible. Yet the announcer didn’t stop. Number 5, (previous 4th place). Number 4, (previous 3rd place). Number 3, (previous 2nd place). Number 2…. People were at the edges leaning forward. The first place belongs to The Prince of Thorn Valley, and had been so for the last centuries. Surely this girl couldn't have beat that…right?

The announcer continued, waiting for no one. [Name], [Name] Fairytale. That was the name outered by the announcer. Number 1, Malleus Draconia. To have a young girl be almost in par with THE Malleus Draconia, prince and heir to the throne of Thorn Valley. That was impressive…and terrifying.

Who is she?

What is she?

A human like that couldn't possibly exist. I mean, she is standing right infront of them, but still. They needed to know where this girl came from, and how she managed to climb to the top of the ranks. Some want to know out of curiosity, others, out of anger and envy. But the worst of them all, was those who think they could use this girl in their schemes. Use her to their gain. Maybe even to get powers never available to them before.

I wonder…. Do they think you're that stupid? That you are just an innocent little girl? Smart enough to fight, but dumb enough to manipulate.

They’re all fools. You’ll just have to prove it to them. A demonstration will suffice, yes?

(Finished 4/11/2024, at 5:37pm)

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @scarabiafriend, @sleep-ydragon, @d3sperate-enuf, @elaemae, @lucky-whispers, @kiwiimochi, @emmorphine, @azriel-sama, @amora-ledezma, @writerstrashbin, @marinahavik, @twstwondersforyou, @lunatheroyal, @ririsun, @dyedscarletletter, @kuureii, @otomega, @valacz29, @busy-dadzawa-fish, @sarah22447, @valacz29, @wondering-again, @lucid-stories. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for Twisted wonderland. Back to The Mind

Back to Master-List

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mournings-stars · 9 months ago

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all i've ever known, again

the fifth and final part to IF IT’S TRUE / the orpheus and eurydice fic :))

so i kind of lied to yall... cus pt. 4 was the last part of the prelude and i had a final last part already started LOL so heres kind of (very much up to you whether it is or isn't) an alternate ending to this greek tragedy-inspired story also thanks to this request: “a happy ending or continue the story like what happened after the reader failed to bring Lucifer back ect.” from @smnthvxe that gave me the idea to change it from a direct continuation to an semi-alt happy ending… i think yall will like this alt ending more than a canon-aligned continuation :)

includes: all that other stuff but fluff this time i promise….

tags: @lxkeee @viannasthings @majonla @sapphirecaelis

part one | part two | part three | part four

When he fell, you didn’t come to the trial. You couldn’t. You didn’t tell anyone about his indiscretions. You let everyone think you were still happily as close as you were, wishing it’d been more — that you had, did, and said more. You stayed in the house you shared, went on with your days as you had been, and slept in the same bed because you had trouble sleeping when he wasn’t there.

But you didn’t speak.

He’d try, and he didn’t go back to Earth for some time, but each time you tried, your throat tightened and you had to stop before you said something that would make both of you feel worse. You couldn’t look at him without expecting him to confess more of what he did, more of how he showed her things that were so special to you. You didn’t want to know what else happened, if he kissed her, slept with her, it’d only make things worse. But he told you he never did. He told you he comforted her, and she comforted him, and that was all.

He tried giving you replicas of flowers when you accepted what he told you, but they didn’t mean the same as they did before, and the moment you took them, they began to wilt. “I’m sorry,” you’d try to say as he looked at the flowers in defeat, but nothing came out. He brushed it off, pretending it didn’t sting and offered to show you what he’d been working on, but you didn’t want to be the one he showed his pride to when there was no one else to go to.

“I’ll never see her again,” he promised, his last attempt to fix what he’d done.

“It’s okay,” was the most you said to him in weeks, but he wished he didn’t hear it. He wished he wasn’t hearing you tell him to be happy without you again.

But he knew now; all of his doubtful thoughts, after he ruined everything, were true. He’d made them so.

Yet, you still protected him.

Until the very end, you protected him for years until you couldn’t without falling with him. Years, and you didn’t tell anyone. Years, and you started staying in your old home, alone. Years, and when rumors spiraled, he helped her flee from The Garden.

Years, and he understood what your relationship had truly been as he began to spend years with Lilith.

Years, and when you didn’t show, everyone knew the truth.

He didn’t even try to fight falling.

Then, it was months. You didn’t see Lucifer on the promenade, or in your garden. You didn’t even see him coming back from Earth. You hadn’t spoken in years, but you saw each other everyday, and you noticed quickly when you didn’t.

No one told you he fell. No one told you he stood trial. All of Heaven was keeping you in the dark until you went to Sera.

“Free will? You banished him for free will?!” You yelled at her, and she let you, having expected this reaction.

“He was also unfaithful,” she said simply.

“We weren’t married.” She shook her head. “We were hardly together — Sera, you can’t do this—“

“You spent centuries together. Nearly a millennium, do not dilute that kind of love to excuse his sin.” Eyes appeared all across her being. She was more angry for you than you had ever been, and she wanted you to lose faith in him. Just as she had.

“We spent that time together, yes, we lived together. We slept in the same bed, had meals together, held each other… But most of the kisses we shared were on the cheek, or hand. It’s not what you think—“

“Don’t do this, Humility,” she scoffed, “I won’t listen to you lie for him—“

“It’s true! Sera, please, listen to me. Free will can be good! We can root out the evil in humanity and send it down to this Hell you spoke about. Humans will understand right from wrong — they won’t just resort to evil without knowing that’s what it is. Let him explain, I’m sure he had the best intentions—“

“Intent means nothing when this is what happens!” You quieted at her stern voice and full angelic form, heavenly voice echoing off the walls. “You cannot fix this—“

“You have to let me try.” And again, years later, she watched you in defeat in front of her. First, you cried to her over what you were losing on Earth, and now what you lost because of it. Except this time, you didn’t blame the humans. “Please,” you begged, making her resolve soften as she saw the shine in your eyes. “Let me try, so I can show him I’d do the same for him, as he’d do for me.”

“What are you talking about…?” Her angelic form settled as she frowned at you. “Surely, you don’t blame yourself—“

“No.” You shook your head. “When the Earth began to change, and everything felt so bleak, he was there to help me back into the light with the garden.”

“What garden? Eden?” You shook your head again and she was even more confused. “Perhaps you could show me?” She got up, walked over, and put a soothing hand on your back.

You were consumed in a golden wave of magic, transporting you to the garden you came to everyday. You blinked your glassy eyes at her, gesturing to the garden and the animals that came to you and hoping that would be enough to convince her.

“I’ve never seen this place before,” she said, frowning, but soaking in the beautiful environment. “It must’ve been created by an angel…” She trailed off, understanding what Lucifer had done. “Humility…”

Your tears fell in shock, wide-eyed realization coming to your face as you looked around. It all felt so familiar, so close to home. You thought it was because it reminded you of Earth before it changed, but there was a reason it helped you feel connected again; every flower you ever said you missed, every animal you ever treasured or showed to him, even the pond that two ducks circled. He recreated it all.

You shook your head, looking down at your hands as a cloud of golden dust created a beautiful lily in them. The very same flower you shut him out for. Looking at it now, it was one of the most beautiful flowers you’d ever created. Poisonous or not, it stood out as something you would have loved.

Sera sighed, peering down at the lily you cradled as if it could take you back in time. She avoided your sad eyes as she looked over your face, pondering the idea that was lingering in her mind. Perhaps you would finally lose faith in him if she did it — perhaps, he would prove that he did care — perhaps… there were too many outcomes that could come from this.

But she said it anyway. “I’ll give him a chance,” she told you, watching the way your wings lifted as you looked up at her. “If you fail, he will stay in Hell… forever, but I believe you can succeed.”

She told you her test, bringing you to the golden gates and creating the stairwell you would spend days walking down — days, where all hurt feelings washed away the moment you set eyes on him and he looked happy to see you. Days, where you realized he had a ring on his finger.

You were too late, you thought. He would never come with you, you thought.

But he did, and you pushed yourself to leave immediately, following every rule until you reached the golden gates of Heaven and stayed with your back to the stairs as you stood in front of them, thinking he hadn’t followed you.

You took a deep breath before you turned, seeing Lucifer step onto the clouds and feeling your heart race when you realized you made it through Sera’s trial.

He was still, unsure of what he was at liberty to do now that you were back. The adrenaline of seeing you after so long, seeing you so ready to take him home, that allowed him to hold you like he did before, had gone the moment he stepped inside that stairwell and replaced itself with overwhelming doubt that the moment you were back, things would be how they were; doubt, that convinced him he'd already failed. Doubt that convinced him to prepare to see you cry for him again. Doubt that convinced him he'd have to say goodbye—

He didn’t even have time to process your arms going around him, but he recognized the warmth of your wings, secure and tight around him, feeling like home.

And, God, did he miss it.

His head tucked into your shoulder as his arms hugged your waist, holding so tightly that you had to speak up. “Lucifer…” He held you tighter. You held him close, fingers threading into his hair to soothe him. “I’m not going anywhere—” And you felt his shoulders tense as you reassured him, harsh breath and wetness hitting the crook of your neck before he lifted his head.

“Forgive me for this later,” he muttered, hand going to your cheek before he leaned in. He didn’t give you time to think before he kissed you, lips urging and eager as a bright, golden warmth washed over you. You could feel Lucifer’s hot tears on your skin as his lips persisted against yours, your hands going to his cheeks to run your thumbs beneath his eyes as you kissed him back. The moment your wings unwrapped from him, he muttered a weak, “no,” and reached his free hand behind you to gently guide your wings back around him as he pressed his lips to yours once again.

For the brief moment you were apart, you caught a glimpse of a light above you. You pulled back. “Luci—“ His mouth was back on yours before you could finish, but he paused.

“What did you call me?” He asked hopefully, but you didn’t repeat yourself. Instead, you told him to, “Look,” pointing just above his head. His halo had returned, glowing brighter than ever.

The glow settled after a moment, Lucifer’s gold and blue, beautiful angelic appearance returning to him for a brief moment as Heaven’s golden gates opened.

You stepped away from him and he knew the moment was past, fingers grazing his lips as Sera appeared in front of you.

“Lucifer,” she spoke. “I see you made it back…” She looked between you, then paused when she saw his halo. “I suppose I should listen to you now.” She looked to you, nodding, and you gave Lucifer a gentle smile before flying off as they went in the opposite direction.

“I didn’t think you would be able to do it,” Sera admitted after a long silence. Lucifer had been looking back at you, watching you leave in the direction of your garden. He looked at her when she spoke up. “I wouldn’t have.”

“If I was leading, I might’ve failed,” he said. “But I had something to prove.”

“And everything to lose, yes.” She nodded with a grimace, looking down at the ring on his finger. “I’m surprised you came.”

“What?” He frowned up at her, then followed her line of sight to the ring on his hand. “Oh…” Sera hummed as he lifted his hand, pulling the ring off. “It’s not what you think.” He handed her the ring and she inspected it, looking at the inscription on the inside of the band.

Music notes were engraved in the golden ring, and Sera could hear the song in her mind. “I haven’t heard this song in a long time — the Song of Love, isn’t it?” She handed it back, watching him slip it back on his finger. “But before that, it was—“

“It’s Humility’s song,” he said. “I made it a long time ago — when the world stopped needing it to change the seasons,” he admitted, twirling it on his finger. As he did, melodic winds flowed past them and sang the very same song. He stopped, the winds settling. “And for these past years, I wore it so that I might be able to hear it again. Even down there.” Sera pursed her lips, not responding to the admission. “Sera,” he sighed, “I never did anything with Lilith—“ It was her turn to sigh, as she’d heard it before. It was the only thing he fought against in the trial. “—I know how it seems. I know my telling Humility was a confession to being unfaithful, but I never did anything with her, and in the years I had with her, we’ve been nothing but friends. There was a connection, I can admit that, but it was nothing in comparison—”

Sera laughed, shaking her head. “You should’ve realized that sooner—“

“—and I never acted on it. That was when I told Humility, when I realized — After Lilith told me she loved me, and it meant something different than the love I have for Humility.” Sera quieted, letting him continue. “I can live with Humility never trusting me again — but, Sera, all I ask is that you believe I’m telling the truth.”

Sera was quiet for some time, stopping their walk as she stared at the ring on his finger; just like the lily, it was like it brought him back in time.

“You should tell Humility,” she decided, her belief would rest on that. Whatever you decided. Lucifer was quick to turn the opposite way. “Lucifer,” she called and he turned. “It was my intention to protect you both, not to plant doubt.” He could hear your voice repeating her warning of abandonment, the hurt and vitriol having replayed in his mind for years. And it finally stopped now.

“I know,” was all he said before he left, heading straight for your garden.

He found you there, sitting in front of the pond with the two circling ducks. Lilies floated in the water and sprouted at the bank, vibrant, warning colors surrounding you as you watched the water.

Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to speak, wishing he could immortalize the beautiful scene as twirled the ring on his finger. Winds blew gently, guiding you to turn your head toward him. You could hear the faint song, a smile coming to your face as he came and sat next to you.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

You shook your head. “Tell me tomorrow… Let’s just enjoy today.” You took a lily from the bank and carefully tucked it into his lapel. “It’s the first day of spring… Come to the Celebration tonight?” There hadn’t been one in years, and he knew it. You were asking him to spend the night with you, just as he’d done so many years ago.

“I couldn’t miss it.”

There was a long silence before he placed a zealous, maybe overly so, hand on your cheek. His thumb ran over your skin and he smiled faintly. “I missed you.” You placed your hand over his, turning to kiss the inside of his palm before taking his hand with both of yours. He pulled it gently to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand. “So much.”

And you could feel it. You could feel the truth in his words, and you could feel that there was a truth you didn’t know, one that wasn’t what you dreaded years ago, one that compelled you to twist the ring on his finger and make that symphonic breeze begin to blow as you went to remind him…

But he spoke before you could, taking the opportunity to finally remedy what he’d done as he held your hands to his chest. “I know.”

And you couldn’t help but smile.

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agathasvidal · 1 month ago

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below the cut is a short theory/deep dive into how i believe agatha all along is going to end between agatha and rio. it is inspired by one theory that is doing the rounds, and is the one i originally theorised myself after watching episode six last week, but i wanted to depict the how and the why of why agathario is important to the show, and why i don’t think a ‘final battle’ will be clearly cut between a ‘good’ and ‘bad’ side

like many others, i think it’s reasonable to predict that rio is there to take billy, but she does not actually know who billy is because of the sigil. small things to back this up include:

1. agatha asking rio why she’s there in episode one and rio replying “my job”. agatha is like boom she is here to take someone away, and it can’t be me, and there’s only one new person who’s recently appeared in my life so who the f is this kid why is he important

2. rio saying “did you hide evidence?” to agatha. ironically, someone is being hidden in the closet from her…

3.. rio telling lilia “go on tell them what you saw” in the beginning of episode five. we can infer that rio knows that lilia knows who rio is. perhaps we could go one further, and suggest that rio knows lilia helped hide whoever she is looking for, and is almost taunting lilia in an ‘i really do see it all’ way

3. agatha’s “don’t” to rio in episode four, when teen is injured. it’s obvious, and has been spoken about so much, but i really think this is a moment of confirmation from agatha that rio is there for him, and she needs to beat rio in discovering who he is. it’s confirmation that the two are working against each other, but it is so hidden between their flirtation and tension.

4. there’s been a big debate about why rio would be a witch, whilst she’s also *potentially* death, but i think it was important for the show to portray rio as a witch so the audience know that a sigil would also work on rio, so she cannot discover teen’s identity. why else would they make it such a big deal about sigils only working on witches?

5. the significant of the no. 3 and agatha/rio in the show all hinting at the cycle of life, birth and death: maiden, mother, crone; agatha’s shirt in ep 5; the clocks being on 3.33 when rio arrives in ep 1, the amount of rabbits we’ve seen (3 rabbits/hares represent birth-life-death cycle in christianity and egyptian hieroglyphs)

SO,

to agatha, seeing rio means something is about to be taken away from her. i think that is their entire dynamic within this show, and their entire relationship in general, after the loss of nic. agatha is presented with rio which means she must work out what rio is there to take. that’s why she suspected teen was someone important, because rio was there for either her or teen. teen had to be one of two people. that’s why agatha viscerally protested the idea of coming close to death in the first trial. because she does not want confirmation that rio is there to take this boy from her. she does not even know who he is, but he is important enough for rio to involve herself in agatha’s life once more. he is important enough for rio to go out of her way and resurface old feelings that they both know, the other should not be resurfacing. he is important enough to be seeked out.

by rio taking away billy, she not only repeats her and agatha’s history once more, but she completely takes away the possibility from agatha that she could ever find a way to be reunited with nicky. agatha needs billy, like she needed wanda, to end the quest she’d spent centuries on. rio is not JUST taking another child away from agatha, she is completely breaking the entire, vicious cycle of longing and hope for the son they lost.

i think that rio thinks that is for the best. for her agatha. to stop this endless chase for something rio knows she cannot have. rio is doing it out of love, even though it tears them apart more than anything else ever could. that is the lesson that agatha needs to be taught: the cycle of birth, life and death. (yes i could then start hypothesising about agatha dying, but i think it’s been overdone)

so that is our potential final battle. a battle between death and life. they are made for each other, but that is ultimately what tears them apart. one spends their life bound to defying death, and the other does not get life, but is bound to upholding it.

agatha is Death’s life. but all death can do to life, is take from it. in the end, rio will always be agatha’s death. they have always been doomed.

#haven’t gotten over my fear of capital letters yet sorry #or full stops lol #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agathario #agatha all along spoilers #rio vidal #aaa spoilers #I have about five hundred more theory drafts on this lol #they are so POETIC #the only person to love agatha is also the only person who can take from her #the only thing that makes rio feel alive ultimately makes her wish she could die #SHE SAID SHORT #LOL

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spooky-pomegranate · 3 months ago

Text

Eyes on Fire (pt 6)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 9.3k Read on AO3 Get caught up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Summary: Your daily life is upended after becoming Secondo's assistant. Meanwhile, Secondo comes to a startling revelation as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

*apologies for the delay. literally fell down a flight of stairs and broke my hand. but we're back baby and better than ever. (Dividers by @wrathofrats)

Out beyond the summer gardens, there is a seldomly walked path. It twists and turns around broken trees, large boulders, and the placid waters of a glacial lake. There’s nothing important on the path anymore, or at least that’s what the upper clergy tells its youngest siblings, but the footpath is dangerous. It’s been decades since the ministry diverted funds away from maintaining it to build a straighter and safer walkway from the Abbey down to the lake’s oftused beachfront. Any markers that used to stand along the old route are long gone and the only indication a path used to exist at all are the faint traces of gravel that peek out from blankets of fallen leaves and overgrown grass.

Most sane people avoid the old path. It’s not worth the risk they say. But every morning two creatures, one man and one ghoul, walk that crooked and crumbling path and neither is afraid…because they both know a secret. That at the very end of the path lies the most magical place on the Abbey’s grounds.

The sun was still asleep as Secondo and Alpha walked along the forgotten pathway until they reached a chapel. Although it should be noted the chapel didn’t look much like a place of worship. It much better resembled an ancient ruin. Only three stone walls remained standing. Two were at half their original height and the third somehow still towered over Secondo’s head. There was no door. It had rotted away centuries ago, and the floor made of stone, was covered in a layer of dark green moss that was so thick it felt like a heavily weighted carpet underfoot. The only piece of furniture left in the ruins was an altar that had been crafted long ago from beautifully marbling petrified wood. But despite its well-worn appearance, when Secondo found this place years ago he immediately knew it was special. He could feel it in the air.

Anyone who enters the Abbey, whether they are a follower of the Dark Lord or not, can feel dark magic around them. It’s often been described as an incorporeal haze. Although unseen, it lingers in every corner of the building and sits a bit heavy around you. In certain places, like the crypts and the ghoul dens, the haze is stronger. You can feel it physically. It brushes against your skin like a soft summer breeze or the flutter of silk bedsheets. But in all his years living in the Abbey Secondo never found anywhere where the haze was as strong as it was in the old chapel.

So it’s here that every morning Secondo comes to start his day, to offer his thanks, and to hope that maybe today will be the day the Dark Lord finally speaks to him. Normally each morning in the crumbling chapel is the same. Secondo kneels before the altar repeats a round of prayers and offers any confession he deems necessary. Alpha kneels quietly beside Secondo and speaks only when spoken to. Any prayer the fire ghoul makes to his Lord is a silent one. This routine never changes. Every day is the same.

But the morning after your stunt in Secondo’s bedroom, things went differently. Before Secondo could kneel Alpha was apologizing, spilling out words faster than Secondo could acknowledge them.

“I’m so sorry about last night Papa. I didn’t want to disobey you. I should have never allowed it. I didn’t mean to offend-” Secondo held up a gloved hand and the fire ghoul caught his tongue.

“It’s fine, Alpha.”

The ghoul’s eyes snapped from the mossy ground up to his master, “Really? You’re not upset?”

“Really,” Secondo answered truthfully. “I asked you to make sure she wanted for nothing and you did as I asked. I cannot be upset with you for that.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Alpha sighed before bowing his horned head and inhaling deeply. Secondo eyed the ghoul carefully, looking over every inch of his guard. Alpha looked tired. Worn down. Exhausted. His shoulders rolled forward and his orange eyes looked more dull than normal.

Secondo wondered if the fire ghoul was as burnt out as he was.

Since his summoning two decades ago Alpha had always been a quiet ghoul. He hardly ever initiated conversations with humans and if the whispers around the Abbey were to be taken as truth, Alpha’s silence was born from his deep-seated distaste of human nature. Secondo knew that wasn’t really true but he saw how siblings often gave Alpha a wide berth when they passed him in the halls. He heard the names they called him. Most siblings avoided ghouls. But they practically ran from Alpha.

Secondo never understood the cruelty. He had never really minded the fire ghoul’s reticence. He’d actually asked Primo for care of Alpha because he liked the ghoul’s quiet nature so much. It didn’t hurt that Alpha was more reliable and trustworthy than any sibling Secondo had ever met.

And they had an understanding.

Or so he thought.

Secondo had always assumed that Alpha enjoyed their quiet moments together and lack of idle chit chat, but looking at the fire ghoul now he was starting to wonder if Alpha’s care was another item to add to his list of failures. Had he ignored signs that Alpha was struggling? Should he have been checking in with him more? Was Alpha suffering in silence like he was? Did he even like being by Secondo’s side?

“Alpha?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

In all their time together Secondo had never asked Alpha that question. He wondered it many times but self-preservation had always held his tongue. Secondo had faults. He knew that. He wasn’t completely blind. But if Alpha hated him. If he hated his daily life then Secondo might just fall apart. He couldn’t be Papa alone.

“What do you mean, Papa?”

Santanas.

He was going to have to spell it out. Secondo wanted to dig a hole in the moss under his feet and bury himself alive.

“Are you happy by my side? Do you enjoy your life,” Secondo paused, swallowing against the self-preservation that had somehow turned to ash in his throat, “Do you enjoy your life with me?”

Alpha blinked.

Secondo knew Ghouls were terrible liars. Something in their design made them brutally honest. It had something to do with being born from the brimstone of His fire. Or maybe it was because they were formed by the make of His hands? Secondo could never quite remember how the story went. Primo had told it to him so long ago when he was just a boy. But Secondo knew that while ghouls could joke and play around… for the most part they spoke plainly when asked direct questions. Normally that was something Secondo admired. He liked honesty. He liked people and creatures who spoke the truth. But right now Secondo wished Alpha was more human than hellspawn. He wished he would lie. He wished for anything but the truth because he knew it would sting.

“No.” There it was. The answer he knew was coming. The sting hurt more than he’d expected. “No, most days I am not happy with you Papa.”

Secondo turned away from Alpha and looked at the crumbling chapel wall. He felt like a fool. After so much failure the fire ghoul had been the only thing keeping him grounded. He’d been the only one who’d stood by his side. But now Secondo was realizing that maybe that was a bad thing. Maybe it was selfish to hold on so tight. Maybe he should set Alpha free. After all, why should two people drown in misery when one is far less cruel?

“Would you like to return to Primo?”

“No, Papa.”

“Are you sure?” Secondo asked finding the courage to turn and look at his ghoul. “He will welcome you and your place in the band won’t change unless you want it to.”

Alpha blinked again and Secondo tried to brace himself for another sting. “I don’t think my life here is about being happy. I know you’re doing important work and I want to be a part of your legacy.”

Secondo didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know if he liked that answer.

“But I was happy yesterday…”

…with her.

Alpha left the final two words unspoken and Secondo was thankful. His self-preservation was already teetering on the brink of collapse and he couldn’t bear to be pushed any further otherwise he’d have to die right here in this run-down place.

Secondo hummed in affirmation before closing his eyes.

Alpha had been happy with you.

You.

Secondo thought of you.

He thought of your eyes and how differently they had looked at Terzo last night. He thought of how happy and relaxed they’d been, pupils for once not blown wide from anger but instead sparkling with joy. Their iridescent color simply shining. He thought of your hair and how he’d finally seen it free from your veil. He thought of how soft your curls looked falling in waves around your bare shoulders. He thought of your face and how your lips had twisted up into that saccharine smile. A smile he’d never seen before and wondered if he’d ever see again.

You had been happy.

Alpha had been happy.

Everyone in his entire damn room had been happy.

There had been so much laughter, dancing, and joy. There had been so much happiness so much glee…and then he’d ruined it. Snuffed it out like depriving a flame oxygen. Secondo took a deep breath and tried to push away his own self-loathing.

He thought of you again and the ache in his chest started to burn. It spread moving from deep in his lungs out until everything burned. Then suddenly Secondo started to cough. He coughed so hard that his eyes watered and Alpha immediately came to his side. A clawed hand gripping his shoulder.

Secondo waved him off, trying to compose himself but the haze… it had never been this thick in the chapel before. Secondo could feel it sticking to his throat and sliding down into his belly. And then for the first time in his life, Secondo tasted dark magic. It was sweet like honey and floral like roses.

If only he could have known how he would be chasing that flavor for the rest of his life.

Apparently, you weren’t just Secondo’s Imperatrix. You were his assistant now too.

You showed up to Secondo’s office at six am as he’d asked and were greeted with the biggest stack of paperwork you’d ever seen. The daunting thing dwarfed the tiny desk you’d been given and spilled onto the floor and over the carpet in Secondo’s office. There wasn’t much of an order to things and Secondo’s instructions on getting through the pile had been curt. Sign these. Edit this. Transcribe that.

But truthfully you were thankful he didn’t have much more to say to you. You didn’t want to talk about what happened last night. You’d done enough of your own cross-examination, staying up half the night replaying it over and over and over again in your head while trying and failing to fall asleep.

You’d nearly let him kiss you. What in the actual fuck had you been thinking? Papa Emeritus the Second. You’d actually let him corner you, and touch you, and tease you, and for some ungodly reason when it was all happening, you had wanted it. You had wanted him. Something in you had shifted and you became an animal motivated solely by the lust of their heat. Warmth had coiled in your belly like a snake and even a cold shower hadn’t been enough to quench what he’d started. Embarrassingly the only thing that eventually helped you get to sleep was the little battery-powered toy you kept in your bedside table.

In the daylight of his office, knowing that you had made yourself come thinking about Secondo made you squirm. All that teasing had probably meant nothing to him anyway. You were probably just another sister in a long line of siblings he played games with. You felt toyed with like a mouse batted about by a house cat. Embarrassment was creeping in, especially since he hadn’t spent more than a few seconds looking at you since sat down at your new desk.

Secondo was focused on his own stack of paperwork. While it wasn’t nearly the same size as yours he never seemed to take his eyes off it. He barely even took a second to blink. The man worked like a dog.

If Secondo wasn’t signing papers he was on the phone. And when he wasn’t on the phone he was writing sermons and speeches and internal documents that were somehow all passed due. He never took a break, stretched his legs, or stopped for a sip of water. With everything expected of him, you started to realize there wasn’t time. There was always more to do, someone to answer to, or something that needed to be fixed. But Secondo was like a machine. He never ran out of steam. All you could do was try your best to keep up and before you knew it half the day was gone.

Your head was pounding from so much reading and writing that you nearly cried tears of joy when the lunch bells rang.

“Should I call the kitchens and tell them you’ll be in the dining room shortly, Papa?”

You stood up for the first time in hours and walked around the desk, feeling the stiffness in your legs from sitting for so long. Secondo finally looked up from his work and his mismatched eyes met yours.

“No, I’m not hungry. Just bring me a cup of coffee and some water from the dining hall,” he replied coldly before turning back to his papers. You nodded and scurried out of his office thankful to finally look at anything besides the horde of papers.

As you walked through the Abbey toward the dining hall you spotted Mountain as he tended to some of the Abbey’s ficus trees in the main hall. With a pair of sheers in his hand, he looked up and offered you a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Hey, little flower. How’s your head?”

“Ugh,” you groaned posting up against the cool stone wall as you watched him primp and prune the small tree. “I don’t know why Alpha likes absinthe. I felt like there were bees in my head this morning.”

Mountain chuckled before setting down his sheers and picking up a water canister at his feet. “Well, I had a great time. Dew won’t shut up about it either. Says he wants you to throw him a birthday party next week.”

“Wasn’t his birthday last month?”

“Yeah,” Mountain said moving further down the hall to another cluster of trees that needed watering, “but he said the one we threw him was lame.”

“What?!” you cried following Mountain as he inspected the soil, digging his large fingers into one of the ficus’s pots. “He literally rode a bear!”

“I know! That’s exactly what I said. Little guy’s never satisfied,” he said shaking his head. “But anyway, how are you? Or maybe a better question is how much trouble are you in with Papa?”

You paused for a moment and watched Mountain work. His fingertips idly traced the soft petals of a ficus tree inspecting it for rot and insect damage. It was amazing how such a large creature could care for something so fragile.

“None,” you answered.“ I think Papa promoted me.”

Mountain’s fingers froze over the leaves before he turned to look at you fully. “He what?”

“I’m his assistant now I guess. He asked me to come to his office this morning and I’ve just been doing paperwork since. I was headed to get him some coffee now actually.”

Even though Mountain was masked and the only sliver of his face you could see were his emerald eyes you could tell he was shocked. His dark green pupils blinked at you slowly, like he was trying to calculate the speed of the earth’s orbit divided by its distance to the sun.

“You’ve got to be the only person in this place who can get away with what you did last night.”

“Yeah maybe…” you trailed off before suddenly remembering something important you’d been meaning to ask Mountain. “Hey. While we're here I have a weird question for you. It’s about Primo’s garden.”

“Shoot, little one.”

“Have you seen any snakes out there lately?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any actually. Pretty sure Primo does some sort of magic to keep them away. Looking for a new pet?”

Apparently, you were going to have to take a trip out to the gardens and ask the old Papa some questions. But that was fine you were overdue for a chat with the eldest Emeritus anyway.

“Nah. It’s a long story. There’s a lot I need to tell you. But I really need to get going,” you said picking up Mountain’s watering can and handing it back to the big ghoul. “I probably shouldn’t test Papa’s patience anymore after last night.”

“Why don’t you come to the dens tonight? Aeth is cooking and I can make you a batch of the new tea I’ve been working on.”

“Sure Mount,” you called out over your shoulder already walking toward the dining hall, “See you then.”

The dining hall was busy.

Siblings and clergy members piled in from all corners of the Abbey, settling down at the long wooden tables for their midday meal. The room smelled of hearty stew and freshly baked bread. Summer was ending quickly and the kitchen staff had already started to transition from lighter fare to heavier, colder-weather meals. You’d miss the strawberry salads and cold gazpacho but fall was your favorite. Spiced cider, fresh apples from the orchard, warm shepherd's pie, those were the best.

You grabbed a large tray from the end of the buffet and waited in line. With every minute that passed a quiet pounding started to grow against your temples.

Thud. Thud.

You could feel it. A migraine was starting to build. The warm food couldn’t come quickly enough.

As you approached the front of the line, you selected a portion of the hearty stew with chunks of tender venison and root vegetables, a slice of warm crusty bread, and a generous helping of crisp apple slices drizzled with honey.

“Is that all Sister?” One of the kitchen staff, an older brother with dark hair greying around his ears, asked.

Thud. Thud.

The pounding in your head grew louder.

“Actually uh…” you stammered, looking down at your tray and smelling the delicious food. “Can I have a second serving of the same thing?”

“Sure thing,” the brother replied with a kind smile, ladling another portion of the stew into a second bowl.

Secondo might get pissed but you were going to bring him back food. If he was anything like you, or even remotely human, you wagered he was sporting a similarly splitting headache.

You carried the loaded tray before collecting two cups of coffee and two glasses of water from the drink station. Balancing the stacked tray, you navigated through the bustling hall and carefully avoided any wandering feet and stray elbows. But just as you were about to walk out the door a high-pitched voice called your name.

“Sister… sister wait up.” The corners of Sister Luciana’s lips quirked upward, but her twisted and forced smile didn’t reach her eyes as she jogged over to you.

“Sister Luciana,” you replied, setting your heavy tray down on a nearby table. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh aren’t you so sweet,” she cooed and you had to bite your lip to keep from rolling your eyes. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay. No one’s seen you in two days and I’ve been so worried about you.”

Satanas. How fake could one person be?

“Thank you for your concern, Sister Luciana,” you replied politely, masking your annoyance. “I was under the weather but I’m better now.”

It’d be a cold day in hell before you’d tell Luciana the truth that you’d blacked out in the catacombs after talking to Lucifer and were held hostage by Papa in his suite for 24 hours.

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sister Luciana replied. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe like she was trying to catch the lie on you. “I gotta tell ya I heard some of the younger sisters talking, you know how they like to gossip, and some of them seem to think you’ve been promoted to Secondo’s assistant. There’s no way that’s true right? He wouldn’t choose you for that.” Luciana’s eyes darted from you to the tray and the two servings of stew steaming on it.

It was people like Luciana who reminded you why you avoided friendships with siblings. Anyone overhearing your conversation probably thought she was a concerned friend. Merely a sweet sister who was worried about you after your prolonged absence. But you knew better. This conversation had nothing to do with you. Luciana only ever looked out for herself. If she was here in the dining room at lunch it meant she wasn’t in Papa’s dining room. She was just worried that someone was taking away her access to Papa. And for a sibling like Luciana power and status were everything.

“You know how rumors spread like wildfire around here,” you said, forcing a casual laugh. “But who knows what goes on behind Papa’s doors right?”

The skepticism was obvious in Sister Luciana's eyes, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. She smiled at you again and wished you better health. Luckily you were able to slink away without her pestering you further.

You briskly walked through the halls of the Abbey, the tray heavy in your hands as you made your way back to Secondo's office. The pounding in your head had only gotten worse after talking with Luciana, and with each step, you could feel your pulse beat through your skull.

When you opened the door to his office, Secondo was in the same place you’d left him, seated at his desk with the big stack of papers in front of him. His brow was still furrowed deep in concentration.

“I brought you some lunch,” you said, setting the tray down on the tiny open corner of your desk. “I know you asked just for coffee, but they had stew today and it just smelled so good I thought you might want some.”

For the first time all morning, Secondo looked up from his work. His eyes darted between the tray of warm food and you.

He stood from his desk and you braced yourself for a reprimanding. You closed your eyes and waited for the fire and fury to rain down on you.

Thud. Thud.

The pounding in your head shifted to your heart.

Thud. Thud.

It was going to burst.

You shot your hand to your chest and rubbed tiny circles trying to massage away the pain.

But then the cool slide of leather brushed against your chin and you opened your eyes. Pain forgotten, Secondo tilted your face to meet his gaze. You stared into marble white and mossy green. You had expected his eyes to darken the way they did when he was angry, the green becoming nearly black and the white more piercing than an arrow. But Secondo wasn’t looking at you like that.

He looked thankful, pleased, and dare you say it… glad.

There was a moment before you remembered to breathe.

You could smell him. Cologne, spice, and incense. The swirling muddled scent clung to everything. You swallowed it all down but the beast from last night returned and it wanted more.

To taste… would it be so bad to push forward and just have a taste of him?

Your lips parted and you breathed in deeply.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “You didn’t have to bring me this.”

Then without another word, Secondo’s gloved hand slipped from your jaw, he picked up his bowl of stew and returned to his desk.

Thud. Thud.

As Secondo walked away the pulse in your heart returned to your head.

You’d almost let him do it again.

You idiot.

You foolish and reckless fucking idiot.

What the fuck was he doing?

Had he lost his damn mind?

Between this morning's incident in the chapel and whatever the fuck was happening to him now Secondo needed a minute to just… be. He needed to collect himself.

He was thankful for the stew. The monotonous motion of simply lifting his spoon from the bowl to his mouth and back again gave him some cover. And he was thankful for it because he was spiraling. His mind was all over the place and if he’d even pretended to go back to his sermon he was sure you would have seen right through him.

He’d touched you.

Again.

He had touched you.

The same way he had last night and it hadn’t been some kind of power play or show of dominance this time. He’d touched you simply because he’d wanted to thank you but words hadn’t felt like enough. But why… why didn’t words feel like enough? You’d just brought him soup. You hadn’t brought him the moon.

Last night he had meant to tease you. All he’d wanted was to get you worked up again but somehow he’d ended up touching you. He’d cupped your jaw and slid into your space before even realizing what he was doing. And you looked at him the same way you had just now.

Your lips had parted, your breath had held, your eyes had softened, pupils growing and darkening, lashes fluttering, cheeks turning red, and you had looked… you had looked just for a moment… just for the smallest sliver of a second like you didn’t hate him. Like he wasn’t a monster. And you had…

No.

Stop it.

Focus.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Secondo cleared his mind and forced himself to concentrate. You weren’t supposed to be a distraction. You were here to learn from him and to serve Him. Whatever tricks his mind was playing on him he would squash. He would bury them inside just like he did so many other of his emotions. He had to remember what was important. What was at stake.

The catacombs.

The book.

His voice.

His guidance.

His legacy.

You were another test. He couldn’t forget that so Secondo ordered himself to focus. He finished his lunch quickly and tried his best to avoid looking at you as he returned to his work… but the ache in his chest persisted, a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with the stew he had just eaten.

You sighed as you stared down at a particularly confusing text and Secondo couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed back from his desk. His papers now forgotten and stood abruptly. His chair screeched against the stone floor, echoing loudly in the room.

He needed air. He needed space. He needed to get away from the suffocating walls that seemed to close in on him every time you were around.

“Papa?” you called out softly.

Secondo ignored you and stormed past your desk, throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the hall.

“Hello, son.”

“Fucking hell!”

Secondo jumped back from the door. In his jumbled mess of a mind, he’d forgotten about the meeting with his father. He glanced over at the clock above your desk.

Shit.

He’d forgotten about the meeting he was supposed to have thirty minutes ago.

“It’s rude enough that you didn’t come to my office on time. Now you’re going to just stand there and block the door. Move boy!”

Secondo stuttered for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Papa Nihil to enter. Sister Imperator trailed closely behind him, pushing his oxygen tank as it creaked across the floor. In the corner of the room, Secondo saw you jump up from your desk and close the door behind Imperator. He’d forgotten to tell you about this meeting too.

Shit.

He hadn’t planned for anyone to be here for this. Meetings with his father never usually went well, and he’d like to spare himself the shame but it was too late to send you away now.

Nihil and Imperator shuffled past Secondo and sat in the two tufted armchairs by the fireplace. Secondo moved to follow them, standing in front of the fire, and resting his elbow on the mantle. The heat from the flames licked at his back as he looked down at the elder pair.

Nihil had always been a rotten bastard and a poor excuse for a father. How he’d managed to hold onto so much power in the Clergy, always amazed Secondo. He’d assumed, as did many others, that he would have been cast out of the church many moons ago if it weren’t for Imperator. It was she, he would need to placate today. She was the real power player in the room.

Through the corner of his eye, Secondo watched as you sat back down at your desk and opened a little black notebook, readying yourself to take notes. He wanted to tell you not to bother. He’d never read them anyway.

“Your lack of punctuality is concerning, my son,” Papa Nihil rasped, his voice muffled through the mask he held against his face. “Let’s hope you haven’t forgotten what we’ve come to discuss.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been working hard on it. Last night I finished a new song. It’s called-” Imperator raised a hand silencing Secondo.

“The clergy has concerns Papa. Have you reconsidered their offer?”

If anyone else in the Abbey besides Imperator had asked that question Secondo would have barked out a list of insults so vile Satan would have blushed.

“I understand,” Secondo said, forcing his tone to remain composed. “But I think the album is headed in a much better direction than the last time we spoke. Last night I-”

“I don’t understand why he even needs to write a new album. Why can’t he just sing my songs and a few of his brothers? Wasn’t that the whole point of sending him out on that little tour last month? To see if this stronzo’s could even sing?” As Nihil prattled on Secondo glanced over at you, hoping to catch your eye, but you were too busy scribbling away in your notebook to notice him.

Imperator sighed loudly and Secondo looked back at the elder pair sitting before him.

“You know why we need a new album, Nihil,” she scolded. “We need more followers. And new music is the best way to do that. It’s also why we have concerns over your album, Secondo. How will we attract more people to join us if your album is full of morose and macabre dronings? The clergy simply thinks a little outside collaboration will help spice things up. Help lift the veil a bit. Do you understand?”

Secondo clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the boiling rage that threatened to spill over. The nerve of them to suggest diluting his art with outsiders, people who weren’t even members of their congregation. His music was sacred, a vessel for the Dark One's message, not some commodity to be watered down for the masses.

“Honestly son, no one wants to hear it. Sathanas your lyrics aren’t even in English! Per Ad Ass whatever. See, I can’t even remember the damn title. How do you expect anyone to-”

“I liked it.”

Secondo’s eyes snapped to yours.

You’d set your notebook down and were staring back at him, a meek little smile spread across your face. You pushed away from the desk and crossed the room, stopping beside him. Secondo swore the flames behind him jumped when the fabric of your habit brushed against his robes.

Imperator raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Secondo with mild interest. Papa Nihil rolled his eyes.

“Sister if you're trying to get in this stronzo’s pants you don’t have-”

“Nihil enough,” Imperator growled, before turning toward you. “Please. Go on sister. What did you like about the song?”

Your eyes drifted from Secondo’s to the floor. Whatever had emboldened you a moment ago was slipping away. Your voice was soft as you started to speak.

“I thought it was beautiful. I… I couldn’t get it out of my head after I heard it. There’s something… I don’t know something ethereal about it.”

As you shook your head Secondo balled his fist by his side. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to do this. You didn’t need to stick up for him. Nihil would always have something negative to say and for as long as he’d known Imperator she had never been his biggest supporter. But your eyes flickered from the floor to his and all his thoughts went out the window.

“No, maybe ethereal’s not the right word. It feels like… well it feels like that moment when we all gather together for Black Mass on All Hallows Eve. Everyone’s excited. A little nervous. Lust. Devotion. Passion. All those feelings we share builds that electricity in the air. You can feel it in your chest. That night it… it feels like the best of us. Like the best of our church, I mean. Everyone gathered together on the one night of the year we all looked forward to most. When the veil is thin and for most of us it’s the closest we’ll ever get to Him.”

“Sister,” Nihil whined impatiently, taking a drag of his oxygen, and tapping his long fingernails against the armrest of the chair, “get to the point.”

“I just mean. His song. Per Áspera Ad Inferí. It reminded me of why I’m a member of this church. It reminded me of why I’m here. Even if I didn’t understand the words I think it’s beautiful.”

A TIDAL WAVE.

A TORNADO.

AN AVALANCHE.

All three are natural disasters that consume. They claim every square inch of calm and bring complete chaos. Disrupting all that was.

People can rebuild. They can lay out new foundations, frame new homes, and pave new roads. But life is never the same. It can’t go back. The world will never be the same once the snow tumbles down, the wave crashes in, and the winds wreak havoc.

As Secondo looked at you he felt like one of those towns he’d seen on TV destroyed by such nature. His world would never be the same. Every thought that he had held was squeezed out. His world was disrupted. Interrupted. Changed. By you.

Sathanas.

He thought to himself.

You’re beautiful.

You’re so fucking goddamn beautiful.

In was in that moment that Secondo realized you were the most stunning creature he had ever seen. He had denied it, pushed it down, and tried to bury his attraction to you and focus on other things like his papacy, the rituals, and the Dark Lord himself. But how could he ignore it now? How could he push it down and bury this feeling somewhere deep when you’d gone and said something like that?

You went ahead and talked about the music… his music, like it meant something. Like it moved you. Like you had understood the very thing that moved him and motivated him to write it. He didn’t know when you’d heard it but that didn’t matter. You’d stormed into his mind now and there would be no rebuilding it to how it was before. He couldn’t ignore it.

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Secondo was only a human. And so far humans haven’t figured out how to stop storms before they start so maybe he should have realized he wouldn’t be able to keep this feeling locked up forever. But he was here now, wrecking his brain. He saw you now.

And you were so beautiful.

His attraction had been there since day one, just simmering under the surface waiting for the right moment to boil over. But now it was happening at the most inopportune time and Secondo couldn’t put it off one more fucking second longer.

He knew when this started.

It had been the moment Imperator laid your photo out next to the others. He remembered it clearly. He was supposed to pick his first batch of Imperatrix’s. It was a high honor and an important duty as Papa but he hadn’t been able to pull his eyes off your picture. You were smiling, standing in the warm summer sun down by the lake. Your hair was undone, long, and flowing beautifully past your shoulders and you were wearing that sundress. The sweet little yellow thing with white flowers and a hemline landing just above your gorgeous thighs.

You’d stolen all of his attention in that moment. So much so that he hadn’t even cared to look at photos of the others. He’d picked five more sisters at random. It’d been you he wanted. It’s been you he couldn’t wait to see in the dining room that first day. It’d been you he made sure was given the nicest suite. The one with the largest bath and the prettiest view of the summer gardens. He’d been disappointed when you’d told him you wouldn’t participate in the rituals but he’d tried to move on. The ritual was supposed to be only an offering after all. He’d been selfish to think of anything else.

But Santhas how he wanted to kiss you right now. He could just wrap you up in his arms, yank off your veil, grab a fistful of your hair, and leave you breathless. He could have you panting, whining, begging for more. He could do it right here in front of his father and Sister Imperator. Or better yet he could kick them out, pick you up, and push you down against his desk and show how good he could make you feel with just his hands and mouth before he even used his cock.

Fuck he could just-

“Why are we listening to this girl when she can’t even speak Latin?!” Nihil's ancient voice sliced through Secondo’s thoughts. “She doesn’t know what would make a good performer. Sister,” Nihil turned to face Imperator in his chair, “he is not ready.”

“I may not speak Latin,” you snapped, taking a step toward Nihil and lowering your voice until it became an angry growl, “but I know that Papa commands every room he walks into. So why should a stage be so different? Why wouldn’t he be ready?”

You took another step toward Nihil, positioning yourself in between the old man and your Papa but Secondo couldn’t let you throw yourself to the wolves. He reached for you, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you back to his side. He could feel your pulse throb with fury as his gloved fingers held you back.

He wanted to pull you even closer and hold you against his chest but Secondo stopped himself. He was thankful for your defense but couldn't let you provoke Nihil any further, not when the consequences for you both could be dire. He needed you near. He needed you close. He wouldn’t let Nihil send you away for your insolence.

Not now.

Not now that you had finally consumed him.

Imperator leaned back in her chair and observed, watching the exchange between you, Secondo, and Papa Nihil. She rested a finger on her chin, deep in thought.

“Papa Nihil, your concerns have been duly noted. But, I believe the sister's perspective holds merit. Secondo you may continue with the album as planned for now. We will meet again in one month to discuss your progress.”

Nihil grumbled under his breath but eventually nodded in reluctant agreement. “Fine,” he said. “But he needs to prove himself. We can't afford any more fuckups. Capisci?”

“Sì,” Secondo answered, biting down on his cheek until the taste of copper filled his mouth, “Capisco, padre.”

A week had passed since your promotion to Secondo’s assistant.

The job wasn’t easy, but you’d learned his routines quickly enough. A cappuccino in the morning. Reading glasses cleaned and on the left side of his desk before his arrival. A fire hot and roaring before he entered and freshly-cut firewood kept stacked in the rack by the door.

The work itself was usually the same. Every morning Secondo started with the pile of papers on his desk. Signing, editing, and transcribing. As Papa, it was his duty to understand all the traditions and rituals of the church while guiding his flock toward or against the known and unknown dogmas.

All important clerical duties were done by lunch. In the afternoon, Secondo dedicated himself to his music. He wrote, sang, and played his guitar, a beautiful acoustic thing with a solid Sitka spruce top and touches of emerald green around its body. Most days Secondo didn’t leave his office when he worked on his album, preferring to play by the fire. But sometimes he did wander down to the music room, where the walls are padded and he could mix tracks when he felt so inclined. On those days his most trusted ghouls usually joined him. Alpha. Omega. Aero. Crust.

The nighttime was reserved for sermons. Secondo wrote and practiced them over and over again until his message was clear and memorized completely. You never realized how much detail was packed into each line he delivered at mass until that week. Every word served a purpose, every phrase held a deeper meaning.

Through it all you helped Secondo the best that you could. You learned that he was meticulous about his robes and paints, both of which he wore every single day, so you started keeping lint rollers in his office and a pot of his special facial paints in your pocket at all times. You learned inspiration could strike him at any moment so you also carried a little black notebook and a pen in case he ever needed to jot something down.

Alpha was around most days and you were so thankful for that. You enjoyed your time together when he did play bodyguard, posting up inside Secondo’s office like a sentinel. He occasionally would slip you little cartoons he’d draw of you or Papa. He was a talented artist and you wondered if all ghouls were born with such creativity. You wanted to ask him but for some odd reason, Secondo kept giving him time off saying things like “go enjoy yourself” or “make sure to rest.” It was strange, seeing Secondo pretend to care about someone else.

Most days you didn’t speak to Secondo and the two of you worked side by side in total silence. Although on more than one occasion you did catch him staring at you, you tried your best to stay out of his way and anticipate anything he needed.

Neither of you had taken a single meal in the dining hall in the past week either. There was too much to do and too few hours in the day to do it all. It’d become clear that Secondo’s last assistant was less than organized and the backlog of work she’d inadvertently created felt neverending most days.

Every night when you dragged yourself back to your suite you felt the same. You were tired. You were body-aching, head pounding, feet burning, doggone tired. You’d never worked so hard in your entire existence and your social life, as modest as it was before, practically vanished overnight. Your world became absolutely consumed by Secondo’s.

It’s been a week since you’d been able to see your friends in the ghoul dens. You never made it down for Aether’s cooking or Mountain’s tea the day he had invited you. You’d apologized for missing out when you bumped into Mount days later. He’d been kind and understanding, offering you a hug that you needed more than you realized. And since then he’d taken it upon himself to leave little snacks and energy drinks in your suite every night.

“You need the energy, little flower,” he had said when he’d delivered you the first round of goodies.

The other ghouls helped out too. Aurora and Cumulus surprised you with little pink Post-it notes on your bathroom mirror full of encouraging messages and adorable drawings. Aether also brought you your favorite wine. And Dew brought you his favorite weed. Swiss, the chaotic little sweetheart that he was, lent you two piles of his favorite records.

“Music to put you to sleep and music to get you going in the morning,” he had said when dropping them off at your door.

At some point, you’d eventually figure out a way to thank everyone. You just needed a minute away from Secondo before that could ever happen. But today wasn’t going to be that day.

It was Saturday evening and while most of the Abbey was preparing for a night of sin and revelry you were with Secondo, holed up in his office and staring down a stack of receipts that needed approving. Alpha had left several hours earlier and the sun was setting outside, casting a warm orange glow through the open window behind Secondo’s desk and a cool breeze swept through the room.

Secondo had set aside his latest sermon and was plucking away at his guitar. You stole glances at him every now and then, watching the way his ungloved slender fingers danced over the strings with effortless grace.

The song was different from the rest he’d been working on. This one was slower. Softer. If anyone else had been playing it you might even dare say it was sweeter.

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…”

Secondo sang, his voice rising over the crackling fire and gliding over you like the breeze from the open window.

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…”

You set your pen down and watched him. For all the vial names you wanted to spew at Secondo, you couldn’t deny him two things. The first was that the man had the voice of a fallen angel. You could easily imagine falling down again into the black void and meeting one of His princes. Maybe Belial or Beelzebub. You could imagine how they would probably sound the same if they sang. Confident, verging on arrogant but soft enough to corrupt any innocence they crossed.

And the second thing you couldn’t deny Secondo was just how much you liked his voice. You could listen to him sign anything. The Macarena. Happy Birthday. God damn Barbie Girl. Honestly, it didn’t matter what Secondo was singing you’d listen to it all just to hear the way his voice could flit between light and delicate to those guttural deep growls that made your cheeks warm and red.

You subtly reached up to your cheek and tried to hide the shame that they were indeed flushing red again.

But luckily Secondo wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was elsewhere. His mismatched eyes were busy staring into the fireplace’s flames as he sang.

“Putrefaction. A scent that cursed be. Under coat of dust. From the darkness. Rise a succubus.”

On the last word, Secondo stopped, turned his head, and stared at you. If your cheeks had been tinged pink before they were bright red now.

You had to say something.

“That was beautiful.”

Secondo’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat before he looked away. His fingers stilled on the guitar strings. Then Secondo did two things you never thought possible. He thanked you and he smiled.

The deep-set corners of his eyes that were so often set in a frown shifted upwards. And his lips followed course. Moving big and wide. You were surprised at how nice it looked on him. How handsome his chiseled face was when he twisted it this way. Not that you ever thought you’d see it, but when you had imagined Secondo’s smile you’d thought it would be awkward, forced, and uncomfortable. But nothing about the way he looked at you now made you feel any of those ways.

You don’t know why. But his thanks his smile…it felt like a truce.

Even if he didn’t know why you hated him and even if you didn’t know why he hated you something about the moment felt like a ceasefire. A break in the lingering feud between you both. You still hated him for what he’d said to you. And probably still despised you for your disobedience but right now… right now you could just co-exist. Right now that hatred didn’t feel important. Something else mattered. You weren’t sure if you could name it. But you felt it, fluttering in your chest and flickering on the tip of your tongue.

Maybe the moment was getting to Secondo too, because he set his guitar aside and stood up, walking over to the window to watch the sun sink lower in the sky before rubbing his temples.

You’d learned over the week that despite the front Secondo tried to put on he was indeed human. And he was a human being who suffered from pounding headaches just like you.

“Headache, Papa?”

“Nothing that won’t go away on its own, sorella,” he said despite mixing the white and black paint at his temples into a grey mess, as he moved his fingers in tiny circles.

“Maybe you should take a break. Is there something you do to relax?”

Secondo turned from the window and blinked at you. He looked surprised.

“I don’t have time for that.”

You pushed away from your chair and reached into the pocket of your habit, pulling out a cotton handkerchief before handing it to Secondo and pointing to the grey smudges on his fingertips.

“Well how about you take your guitar and I’ll take some of these,” you pointed back toward the stack of receipts on your desk, “and we’ll just go somewhere that’s more relaxing.”

“Somewhere more… relaxing?” He repeated, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, maybe a change of scenery could help clear your mind.”

The idea seemed to intrigue Secondo. His gaze flickered between you and the window where the last rays of orange sunlight were fading fast. After a moment, he let out a sigh and nodded.

“Lead the way, sorella.”

Secondo had lived in the Abbey his entire life and while he knew plenty of secrets about the old place he had never been here before.

You had led Secondo through the Abbey into an abandoned classroom on the top floor of the eastern wing and climbed out its window. Then you’d scampered up onto the roof, where a black and red plaid blanket had already been waiting. A tin bucket sat next to one of the brick chimneys and Secondo peaked inside, noticing half a dozen smoked-down joints.

You sat down on the blanket, deftly crossing your legs at your ankles, and waved at Secondo to join you. Secondo couldn’t help but think what a pair you two must make. What would people think if they saw you? A young Imperatrix, dressed in her most conservative black habit, not an inch of skin showing, and him…Papa Secondo, clad in all the finest regalia of his station donning black robes, mitre, and all. Even though the sun was almost fully set Secondo doubted that any sibling wandering the grounds below would be able to see either of you. But still, he felt subconscious about his dress. He normally didn’t mind people staring. But up here with you, he’d rather not draw stares. So he pulled off his mitre and gently set it on the roof before joining you on the blanket with his guitar.

While the plaid blanket was decently sized, Secondo was forced to sit relatively close to you. Just a handful of inches separated the two of you. So he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon in an attempt to distract himself from the proximity and began plucking away at the strings of his guitar. Normally, keeping his hands busy was enough to distract himself.

But tonight it wasn’t cutting it. Secondo couldn’t focus.

Being here with you was so much different than his office or the music room. This felt too intimate. Two people, lying under the stars, with music in the air, this felt more like a date than the tail end of a long working day. And while Secondo was ready to admit that you were beautiful he wasn’t ever going to be the kind of man that took sisters like you on dates. He was missing that thing in him that sought out companionship, or the type of love that made people weak and vulnerable. Secondo was determined never to let himself be so at the mercy of another person.

“I’ve never brought another human up here before?” Your voice cut through his idle strumming.

“Human?”

“Yeah,” you said fidgeting with your habit. “I’ve only ever brought the ghouls up here.”

Secondo raised an eyebrow. Most siblings were terrified of ghouls. But you were apparently comfortable enough to lay with them under the stars. Who were you?

“The ghouls… they are your friends?”

“They’re my only friends.”

For two people who have spent every waking minute together over the past 7 days, Secondo realized then he knew absolutely nothing about you. He shifted on the blanket, moving his long under his thighs. Then he turned his broad shoulders in your direction so he could look at you fully. He hoped you look back at him.

But you avoided his eye contact and stared up into the sky.

The moonlight glistened on your face, casting shadows in the hollows of your cheeks and Secondo was struck by how ethereal you looked, like a beautiful unholy being bathed in silver light.

“You are beautiful, sorella.”

The words were out of Secondo’s mouth before he realized it. They’d simply escaped, like taking a breath, without any consciousness.

But Secondo didn’t want to take them back. They were the truth and he couldn’t rewind time. All he could do was wait for you to say something… anything. The minutes stretched like hours. But you weren’t going to answer. You had frozen in place and the only thing that emerged from your lips were shaky and nervous breaths that puffed out into the cold night like little clouds.

Then Secondo did something stupid. He spoke again.

“You don’t like me do you?”

This time your eyes snapped quickly to Secondo’s and nothing could have prepared him for how much angry fire was burning behind them.

“Fuck you.”

“W-what?”

“I said fuck you, Papa,” you spat out Secondo’s title with ugly disdain and dug a pointed finger hard into his chest. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my life. I bet you don’t even remember what you said to me do you?”

Secondo tried to rack his brain. He tried to think of any interaction. Any possible bump in the halls, or faux pau in the dining halls. He’d only known you for a week. He’d never spoken to you before seven days ago. What the hell could he have done in that time to make you hate him so?

As Secondo looked at you, it was obvious he didn’t remember. There was no flicker of recognition. No flashback running through his mind.

And somehow that felt so much worse. How could he not remember when you’d never forget?

“Sorella,” Secondo pled, “Tell me please. What did I do to you?”

Go back: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

(Read on AO3)

#ghost #ghost band #the band ghost #papa emeritus ii #ghost bc #secondo #papa secondo #papa emeritus ii x reader #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #band ghost #ghumblr

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correlance · 10 months ago

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Paradise Lost: How John Milton's 1667 work influenced "Hazbin Hotel"

I've been thinking about why the "fruit of knowledge" in Hazbin Hotel is depicted as an apple, as opposed to another fruit that would've been more accurate to the Middle East during the Fall of Man, as well as how Paradise Lost by John Milton (1667) influenced the show.

Per one source:

"Because the Hebrew Bible describes the forbidden fruit only as 'peri', the term for general fruit, no one knows [what exactly type of fruit it was]. It could be a fruit that doesn't exist anymore. Historians have speculated it may have been any one of these fruits: pomegranate, mango, fig, grapes, etrog or citron, carob, pear, quince, or mushroom."

Per Wikipedia:

"The pseudepigraphic Book of Enoch describes the tree of knowledge: 'It was like a species of the Tamarind tree, bearing fruit which resembled grapes extremely fine; and its fragrance extended to a considerable distance. I exclaimed, How beautiful is this tree, and how delightful is its appearance!' (1 Enoch 31:4)."

In Jewish and Islamic traditions, the "fruit of knowledge" is commonly identified with grapes. The Zohar explains that Noah attempted (but failed) to rectify the sin of Adam by using grape wine for holy purposes. Today, the "Noah grape" is still used to make white wine.

Furthermore:

"The association of the pomegranate with knowledge of the underworld as provided in the Ancient Greek legend of Hades and Persephone may also have given rise to an association with knowledge of the 'otherworld', tying-in with knowledge that is forbidden to mortals. It is also believed Hades offered Persephone a pomegranate to force her to stay with him in the underworld for 6 months of the year. Hades is the Greek god of the underworld, and the Bible states that whoever eats the forbidden fruit shall die."

So, how then did the apple become the foremost symbol of the "fruit of knowledge"? You can partly thank Paradise Lost by English poet John Milton, a work which the lore of Hazbin Hotel is based off of.

Milton published the book in 1667, a time when the hedonistic Restoration era was in full swing. The exiled King Charles II was restored to the throne as King of England in 1660, and was a party animal, with dozens of mistresses, and nicknamed both the "playboy prince" and "Old Rowley", the latter after his favorite lustful stallion.

However, the association of the "fruit of knowledge" began with a Latin pun long before Milton immortalized the association in Paradise Lost. Per the linked article above by Nina Martyris for NPR:

"In order to explain, we have to go all the way back to the fourth century A.D., when Pope Damasus ordered his leading scholar of scripture, Jerome, to translate the Hebrew Bible into Latin. Jerome's path-breaking, 15-year project, which resulted in the canonical 'Vulgate', used the Latin spoken by the common man. As it turned out, the Latin words for evil and apple are the same: 'malus'.

[...] When Jerome was translating the 'Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil', the word 'malus' snaked in. A brilliant but controversial theologian, Jerome was known for his hot temper, but he obviously also had a rather cool sense of humor.

'Jerome had several options,' says Robert Appelbaum, a professor of English literature at Sweden's Uppsala University. 'But he hit upon the idea of translating 'peri' as 'malus', which in Latin has two very different meanings. As an adjective, 'malus' means 'bad' or 'evil'. As a noun it seems to mean an apple, in our own sense of the word, coming from the very common tree now known officially as the 'Malus pumila'. So Jerome came up with a very good pun.'

The story doesn't end there. 'To complicate things even more,' says Appelbaum, 'the word 'malus' in Jerome's time, and for a long time after, could refer to any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. A pear was a kind of 'malus'. So was the fig, the peach, and so forth.'

Which explains why Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel fresco features a serpent coiled around a fig tree. But the apple began to dominate Fall artworks in Europe after the German artist Albrecht Dürer's famous 1504 engraving depicted the First Couple counterpoised beside an apple tree. It became a template for future artists such as Lucas Cranach the Elder, whose luminous Adam and Eve painting is hung with apples that glow like rubies.

Milton, then, was only following cultural tradition. But he was a renowned Cambridge intellectual fluent in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, who served as secretary for foreign tongues to Oliver Cromwell during the Commonwealth. If anyone was aware of the 'malus' pun, it would be him, and yet he chose to run it with it. Why?

Appelbaum says that Milton's use of the term 'apple' was ambiguous. 'Even in Milton's time the word had two meanings: either what was our common apple, or, again, any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. Milton probably had in mind an ambiguously named object with a variety of connotations as well as denotations, most but not all of them associating the idea of the apple with a kind of innocence, though also with a kind of intoxication, since hard apple cider was a common English drink.'

It was only later readers of Milton, says Appelbaum, who thought of 'apple' as 'apple', and not any seed-bearing fruit. For them, the forbidden fruit became synonymous with the 'malus pumila'. As a widely read canonical work, 'Paradise Lost' was influential in cementing the role of apple in the Fall of Man story."

To tie this back into John Milton's relationship with King Charles II of England, as mentioned, Milton originally served Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England, and the English Commonwealth, which was formed with the overthrow and execution of King Charles I on 30 January 1649, following the bloody English Civil War (1642 – 1651).

The King's two sons - the newly-christened King Charles II, the elder, and James, Duke of York (King James II), the younger - fled into exile on the European continent. However, with the death of Oliver Cromwell on 3 September 1658 came the 2-year-long dissolution of the English Commonwealth, and the restoration of the monarchy.

As for Milton himself, we can look to an article by Bill Potter.

Milton, born on 9 December 1608, was around 51-52 years old when King Charles II was restored to the throne. He attended Christ's Church, Cambridge in his youth, and mastered at least six languages, as well as history and philosophy; making him, perhaps, the most knowledgeable poet in history. He spent more than a year travelling across Europe, conversing with and learning from intellectuals, linguists, poets, and artists, including the famous Galileo Galilei.

However, Milton was a controversial figure of his time, being unafraid to criticize institutions of authority; arguing that "divorce was Biblical", for which he was routinely condemned; joining the Puritans; penning the Areopagitica, a treatise on liberty in favor of Parliament and the Roundhead rebels, during the reign of King Charles I, arguing that the King must be held accountable by the people; and agreed with and justified the murder of King Charles I, for which Parliament hired him in 1649 as a propagandist and correspondence secretary to foreign powers, on account of his fiery manifestos against "the man".

The collapse of the Commonwealth with the death of Oliver Cromwell in 1658 did not deter Milton from continued political writing against the monarchy and the new public sentiment that brought about its Restoration under King Charles II in 1660. On the contrary, Milton - now totally blind, having lost his eyesight by the age of 44 in 1652, a decade earlier - began writing Paradise Lost in 1661, and spent the next six years dictating the work to transcribers.

A supporter of regicide, Milton was also forced into exile himself, and faked his own death, as Charles refused to pardon - and sought to execute - any of those directly involved with his father's murder. Milton's friends held a mock funeral for Milton on 27 August 1660, just months after the coronation of King Charles II on 23 April 1660.

King Charles II commented that he "applauded his [Milton's] policy in escaping the punishment of death [execution for treason] by a reasonable show of dying", but insisted on a public spectacle nonetheless by having Milton's writings burned by the public hangman.

After eventually obtaining a general pardon from King Charles II, Milton was imprisoned, and released, likely due to political friends in high places. He died, aged 64, in 1674. His theological views were sometimes considered heterodox by the best Puritans, and his political views came close to getting him executed on several occasions. His poetry, however, has endured as some of the greatest works in the English language, especially Paradise Lost; much of his greatest work was written during his 22 years of complete blindness.

One of the main factors in King Charles II deciding to grant a pardon to Milton was, ironically, Paradise Lost. While originally written by Milton as a scathing criticism of King Charles II and the monarchy - depicting Lucifer Morningstar as a sympathetic rebel against God, with King Charles II claiming that is right to rule came from "divine ordainment" - Charles II enjoyed the work, and authorized its publication on 20 August 1667. We know this because a 1668 copy of Paradise Lost in royal bindings by Samuel Mearne, bound lovingly in a fine red leather made of goat skins tanned with sumac, and stamped in gold with the royal cypher of King Charles II, was found. The endpapers bore a watermark with the royal arms of Charles II.

Per one Miltonian scholar: "The most single important event in Milton's life was the event against which he struggled most: the Restoration of Charles II, [and his relationship with the King]. Had it not come, we might have never had Paradise Lost...certainly, we should never have had [it] in [its] present power and significance."

Milton followed up Paradise Lost with Paradise Regained in 1671, three years before his death, with advice for King Charles II, urging the hedonistic Charles to "reign over himself and his passions":

"For therein stands the office of a King, His Honour, Vertue, Merit and chief Praise, That for the Publick all this weight he bears. Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, Desires, and Fears, is more a King; Which every wise and vertuous man attains: And who attains not, ill aspires to rule Cities of men, or head-strong Multitudes, Subject himself to Anarchy within, Or lawless passions in him which he serves." - John Milton, Paradise Regained, Book II, lines 463-472

To summarize: "If we must have a King back again, my Lord, please try to be a good man, unlike your father, who fell to his pride, [which was also the downfall of Lucifer]."

To quote another source: "Though the passage begins by noting that the office of a King is to bear the weight of public concerns, it is the control of one's private concerns that truly set a King apart as a virtuous character. Indeed, so important is self-command that any wise or virtuous man who attains it is like a king; any king who does not practice [self-command] is nothing more than a mere subject, ruled by anarchy and lawlessness."

Milton's words, too, echo a work written by Charles' grandfather, King James VI/I of Scotland and England: Basilikon Doron ("Royal Gift").

Per Wikipedia:

"'Basilikon Doron' (Βασιλικὸν Δῶρον) means 'royal gift' in Ancient Greek, and was written in the form of a private letter to James' eldest son, Henry, Duke of Rothesay (1594–1612). After Henry's death, James gave it to his second son, Charles, born 1600, later King Charles I. Seven copies were printed in Edinburgh in 1599, and it was republished in London in 1603, when it sold in the thousands.

This document is separated into three books, serving as general guidelines to follow to be an efficient monarch. The first describes a king's duty towards God as a Christian. The second focuses on the roles and responsibilities in office. The third concerns proper behaviour in daily life.

As the first part is concerned with being a good Christian, James instructed his son to love and respect God as well as to fear Him. Furthermore, it is essential to carefully study the Scripture (the Bible) and especially specific books in both the Old and New Testaments. Lastly, he must pray often and always be thankful for what God has given him.

In the second book, James encouraged his son to be a good king, as opposed to a tyrant, by establishing and executing laws as well as governing with justice and equality, such as by boosting the economy. The final portion of the Basilikon Doron focuses on the daily life of a monarch.

All of these guidelines composed an underlying code of conduct to be followed by all monarchs and heads of state to rule and govern efficiently. James assembled these directions as a result of his own experience and upbringing. He, therefore, offered the 'Basilikon Doron' ('Royal Gift') to his son, with the hope of rendering him a capable ruler, and perhaps to pass it down to future generations.

Overall, it repeats the argument for the divine right of kings, as set out in 'The True Law of Free Monarchies', which was also written by James. It warns against 'Papists' (Roman Catholics) and derides Puritans, in keeping with his philosophy of following a 'middle path', which is also reflected in the preface to the 1611 King James Bible. It also advocates removing the Apocrypha from the Bible."

King James VI/I further instructed his son and grandson:

"A good monarch must be well acquainted with his subjects, and so it would be wise to visit each of the kingdoms every three years."

"During war or armed conflict, he should choose old-but-good captains to lead an army of young and agile soldiers."

"In the court and the household, [a royal] should carefully select loyal gentlemen and servants to surround him. When the time came to choose a wife, it would be best if she were of the same religion and had a generous estate. However, she must not meddle with governmental politics, but perform her domestic duties."

"As for inheritance, to ensure stability, the kingdom should be left to the eldest son, not divided among all children."

"Lastly, it is most important...that [a royal] would know well his own craft...to properly govern over his subjects. To do so, [one] must study the laws of the kingdom, and actively participate in the council. Furthermore, [one] must be acquainted with mathematics for military purposes, and world history for foreign policy."

"[A royal] must also not drink and sleep excessively. His wardrobe should always be clean and proper, and he must never let his hair and nails grow long. In his writing and speech, he should use honest and plain language."

King James VI/I further supplemented Basilikon Doron with a written treatise titled The True Law of Free Monarchies: Or, The Reciprocal and Mutual Duty Between a Free King and His Natural Subjects.

"It is believed King James VI/I wrote the tract to set forth his idea of absolutist monarchism in clear contrast to the contractarian views espoused by, among others, James' tutor George Buchanan (in 'De Jure Regni apud Scotos'), [which] held the idea that monarchs rule in accordance of some sort of social contract with their people. James saw the divine right of kings as an extension of the apostolic succession, as both not being subjected by humanly laws."

Milton's own Areopagitica was a follow-up on De Jure Regni apid Scotos by George Buchanan, and also to The True Law of Free Monarchies, as well as the idea of the "divine right of kings". It takes its title in part from Areopagitikos (Greek: Ἀρεοπαγιτικός), a speech written by Athenian orator Isocrates in the 4th century BC.

Most importantly, Milton also wrote on the concept of free will: "Milton's ideas were ahead of his time in the sense that he anticipated the arguments of later advocates of freedom of the press by relating the concept of free will, and choice to individual expression and right."

The concept of free will, too, was a major topic explored in Paradise Lost. Per one source: "In 'Paradise Lost', Milton argues that though God foresaw the Fall of Man, he still didn't influence Adam and Eve's free will. [...] God specifically says that he gives his creatures the option to serve or disobey, as he wants obedience that is freely given [or chosen], not forced. Some critics have claimed that the God of the poem undercuts his own arguments; however, Milton did not believe in the Calvinistic idea of 'predestination' (that God has already decided who is going to Hell and who to Heaven), but he often comes close to describing a Calvinistic God. God purposefully lets Lucifer (Satan) escape Hell, and sneak past Uriel into the Garden of Eden, and basically orchestrates the whole situation so that humanity can be easily ruined by a single disobedient act. In describing the Fall of Man before it happens, God already predicts how he will remedy it, and give greater glory to himself by sending his Son [Jesus Christ] to die, and restore the order of Heaven."

In Hazbin Hotel, Adam also describes the Calvinistic idea of 'predestination', and that "the rules are black and white":

However, "This possible predestination leads to the theory of the 'fortunate fall', which is based on Adam's delight at learning of the eventual coming of the Messiah [from his bloodline]. This idea says that God allowed the Fall of Man, so that he could bring good out of it, possibly more good than would have occurred without the Fall, and be able to show his love and power through the incarnation of his Son. In this way, the free will of Adam and Eve (and Lucifer/Satan) remains basically free, but still fits into God's overarching plan."

However, there is one major flaw with this, and that is that we don't know if Jesus Christ exists within the Hazbin Hotel universe or not. Yet Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith, and the "Princess of Hell", is depicted as a savior-esque figure within the show who, like God in Paradise Lost, encourages lowly sinners to choose obedience to God out of their own free will. More interestingly, Charlie does not come from Adam's bloodline; yet, while Lucifer decries 'free will', Charlie supports 'free will' instead.

Perhaps is is merely because Charlie, being the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, claims to want to fulfill Lilith's "dream" of humanity being empowered in Hell ("The mind is its own place, it can make Heaven out of Hell, or Hell out of Heaven" - Lucifer, Paradise Lost); however, I think it also stems from Charlie having a genuine belief that 'free will', and people choosing to do good instead of evil, is "good" and "Godly".

True to Paradise Lost, this is also in fulfillment of God's plan; and, according to one fanfiction, why God allowed Charlie to be born to Lucifer and Lilith, so that sinners may be redeemed through Charlie.

For more on differing interpretations of 'free will', I suggest reading: "Free Will and the Diminishing Importance of God's Will: A Study of Paradise Lost and Supernatural" by Kimberly Batchelor (2016)

Excerpt: "'Paradise Lost' –and Milton’s purpose for writing the poem— is rooted deeply in postreformation Arminianism and this is apparent in its employment of free will. Chapter 1 argues that Milton turns to free will as a tool to justify the actions of God. Freedom of choice is God-given, and sets up a morality in which right and wrong are dictated by God. Chapter 2 shows that in 'Supernatural', free will is not given by a higher power; and, in fact, free choice functions as an act of defiance against God's will."

This raises the question: Is 'free will' given by God, using Lucifer as his vessel, in Hazbin Hotel, as in Paradise Lost? Or is 'free will' not given by a higher power; and, in fact, an act of defiance against God?

This brings us back around to our first question: Why is an apple, or 'malus', used to depict the "fruit of knowledge", especially if 'malus' means 'bad or evil', whereas Milton depicts 'free will' as God-given?

Well, for one, Lucifer still chooses to associate himself with apple symbolism and imagery, despite being skeptical of free will:

Based on the introduction to Episode 1, Charlie also views 'free will' as a gift (Miltonian), whereas Lucifer appears to view it as a curse.

However, Charlie also notes that it was through the 'gift' of free will that the "root of all evil" entered the world, for if mankind could choose to be good, then they could also choose to be evil ('malus').

John Milton states in Paradise Lost: "Of Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree [malus], whose mortal taste Brought Death (evil, malus) into the World, and all our woe."

Thus, the use of an apple specifically is likely a tie-in to what others have been speculating about a character that series creator Vivienne Medrano (Vivziepop) alluded to a while back: "The Root of All Evil".

However, "Roo" itself is depicted as possessing the body of a human woman, presumably Eve, the first one to eat the "fruit of knowledge":

Thus, we can discern that "Malus" likely refers to this character. (Also see: "Maleficent", a name that also uses the root word "mal", "evil".) As for Roo's intentions, if Charlie is "good" - and, if, in fact, Alastor was sent by "Roo" (Eve) - then they may want for Alastor to work on their behalf to "corrupt" Charlie, or make sure the hotel never succeeds.

This is because demonic power is tied to human souls, and there are "millions of souls" in Hell, which likely fuels the great power of "Roo". The more souls there are in Hell, the more powerful "Roo" becomes. The Overlords also get their demonic power from "millions of souls".

The deal between Eve and "Roo" might even be the first contract, or deal, between a human soul and a demonic entity; in exchange for 'free will', and the knowledge of good and evil, Eve allowed the "Root of All Evil" to inhabit her body, and to escape the void or prison it was confined to by Heaven (Hell?). (For one cannot be 'all-good' unless you attempt to 'eliminate' or 'ablate' evil; and, in Greek mythology, Zeus imprisoned the Titans in Tartarus for all of their evil deeds.)

Another possibility, brought up in an article by Gillian Osborne, is that Lucifer sees the "fruit of knowledge" as an apple, but it may appear as different fruits to different people, depending on how they view it. This also fits with Lucifer and angels being able to easily shapeshift.

In Paradise Lost, only Lucifer describes the fruit as an "apple" (malus), as he associates malus with "bad, evil", while the narrator also describes the fruit as "a mix of different colors" and peach-like. This then begs the question: "Did the fruit of knowledge of good and evil become 'evil' because Eve harbored resentment towards Adam?"

Quote: "Lucifer (Satan) gives Eve yet another hint that this tree may be more complicated than he wishes her to believe: although elsewhere in Milton's poem Eden is heady with its own newness, sprouting spring flowers left and right, the tree of knowledge is already old: its trunk is 'mossie'. Nevertheless, Lucifer claims to wind himself around the tree 'soon'; the quickness of his reported arrival stands in contrast to the timescales required to cover a fruit tree with moss (PL 9.589). Placing Lucifer's winding body between these two timescales—an easeful present and the inhuman scale of natural history—Milton suggests that there is something dangerous in entangling the past with the present. Yet, 'Paradise Lost' also makes deep biblical history feel like present politics for its readers. When Adam and Eve wander out of Eden at the end of the poem, they famously make their way not only into an earthly paradise, but also into the present. Eden's mossy apple tree therefore represents the pitfalls of conflating nature and history, of seeing any action in human history—even Eve's eating of an apple—as natural, if by nature, we mean inevitability. For Milton, history, unlike nature, is directed by humans, progressive, and, like the reading of 'Paradise Lost', hard work. While trees may inevitably collect moss the longer they live, Adam and Eve's labors in the garden, and our labors of reading, require agency and effort. Milton's poem refuses mourning the loss of Eden, [and the perfection of Heaven], in favor of a perpetual, melancholic, recreation of paradise: a present perfecting."

To quote Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, which also draws inspiration from John Milton's Paradise Lost: "It's an unfortunate situation...but you do have a choice [i.e. free will]."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin #hazbin analysis #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin meta #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin theory #deep thoughts #john milton #paradise lost #eve hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #adam hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #roo hazbin hotel #root of all evil

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eclairsnme · 1 year ago

Text

♡ POV: Being The Itoshi Brother’s Elder Sister ♡

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

More trouble and very dilf (prick) boss and yandere kaiser!!

tags: idol!you, crack comedy, reunion, familial love, sfw, somewhat of a brat (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎), lack of common sense, dilf boss, kaiser is giving me psycho killer mannn (✦థ ｪ థ), red flags!!

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

A few years ago,

You picked up the phone and read a message.

It’s a punishing journey here.

It was from Sae, your younger brother.

After reading the message, you flipped the phone to your manager.

You could not be bothered to reply to him as... well, you are in a middle of a scandal.

A rival company is trying to sue you for plagiarising their music.

I mean like ew? (¬､¬)

You debuted in the music industry one year ago and had already gathered a massive fanbase and caused a wave in the industry.

Many were hailing you as the pop star of the century. Recognised not only domestically but also worldwide.

The songs were written by you and with the collaboration of acclaimed song producers.

When all of your songs dominated the Billboard chart, you solidified your status as the youngest and most celebrated star of this era.

You know what they always say, behind every success has its own trials and tribulations, and yeah you were now experiencing that exact phenomenon — a scandalous scandal, a bad suing kind.

The rival company had been trying to produce their very own pop star using you as the manual, however, it was to no avail. Obviously.

You snorted at that. No one could compete with you, naturally.

Therefore, they had to resort to underhand tactics. Such as, wrongly accusing you of plagiarism without any ounce of evidence and trying to sue you to boot?

Huh! The audacity.

More absurdly, he annouced all that mumbo jumbo on the stupid bird app! That hellhole of an app.

It goes without saying that the news spread quickly like lighting speed! Both fans and haters became aware of it and rumors and negative comments began to circulate rapidly. They really popped off there.

What else popped off? Keyboard warriors. They came and showed the heck up. They have never typed their opinions so quickly.

Before you could defend yourself from such an outlandish claim, they had already painted you a bad reputation. You cracked a displeased smile.

It appears that your followers and supporters have left you abruptly and without any hesitation.

And they call themselves loyal fans. You pouted. People’s minds sure do sway rather quickly. That bandwagon sure has lots of passengers.

Today, a crowd gathered outside your studio to protest against what they perceive as your "sinister" conduct.

How very rude!

Prior to your debut, you had anticipated that your first scandal would involve a dating rumour with a super hot man. However, the current scandal being circulated is merely a laughable joke and not the kind you had expected.

The music you made was definitely yours last you checked. It was unquestionably from this absolutely talented brain of yours.

“Pest,” you grumbled.

Oh and what a pest he definitely is. Actually, he was more disgusting than those creepy crawlies. He had a greasy face, greasy hair and an incredibly bad breath.

You shivered. Yucky.

“That bastard!” The boss of your company slammed the table.

Your boss was a tall and well-dressed individual in his mid twenties. He was an efficient and smart, young man that had personally scouted you and propelled your career (well, that is a little too much credit to him but yeh yeh).

This company had a few B-listers if you squint... hard enough. You were his first pop star and damn, you exceeded all his expectations. Not to toot your own horn, but yes you are quite literally The Best.

After learning of the absurdity, he was absolutely furious. He was frothing in the mouth like how baristas froth them age-old milk. You found it quite funny to see his handsome face contort to such comedy.

You hid your giggle behind your hand.

He stopped and knelt down in front of you, "I understand that this situation is difficult for you right now, but I assure you that we will find a solution and overcome this obstacle together."

Even the dumbest person would know that refuting the so-called "claims" was a simple task. However, the bigger issue at hand is the individuals who have already turned their backs on you. Unfortunately, you are currently considered the most disliked public figure.

Can you believe that? Me!

To that, you grunted and took a heavy whiff of the musky meeting room.

Gain back their support?

You suddenly stood up, causing your boss to fall back onto his buttocks.

An idea crossed your little noggin. Your idea is truly exceptional, with a level of creativity that is almost unparalleled. Some people might even dare ask, "From that brain of yours?"

A true visionary of the century you would say. You snickered to your own delight.

“What’s going on?” Your boss asked in confusion.

“I know just the way to make him eat his shit!” You bellowed, lightly brushing the nonexistent dust from your Miu Miu garb.

Oh yes, eat shit he will. Bet, his shit would be the best-tasting shit he will ever consume.

Present day

You, the top idol, stood in front of the screen fake crying your heart out for your dear little brother.

“Do you not love me anymore?!” You dramatically placed your hand over your face, wiping away the fake tears.

Rin covered his ears at that infamous phrase coming from you.

As the situation “escalates”, even Rin’s teammates started to catch on to your act. As in, they actually fell for your poorly executed acting.

“Oi, Rin your sister is calling for you! You bastard of a little brother making her cry,” his teammates and Karasu collectively shouted at him, accusingly.

This was too much for Rin to handle, the embarrassment was too excruciating. He was so close to believing that you were not his sister. Heck, did you hear his internal thoughts? Because he could vaguely hear you crying louder. He shuddered.

To Rin, this was the equivalent of having his mom unexpectedly appear in the classroom and announcing every speck of mole on his body to everyone. Yet again, he shuddered.

You, on the other hand, were just about to tease him more when Mr Manager tapped on your shoulder.

“Your next schedule is in an hour, you need to get ready.”

Ah, talk about getting blue balled. You frowned. You were just about to have fun with Rin.

"Schedule? I thought I was done for today?" You gave him a look of disapproval, with your lips tightly pressed together.

"I-it's the meeting with the boss!" He spread his arms wide in disbelief, brows downturned and mouth gaping like a goldfish.

"That person would not mind," you turned away from the screen and shrugged your shoulders, "no big deal missing one or two meetings."

"You mean, multiple (all) meetings?"

Wow, talk about being unnecessarily observant. You rolled your eyes. If your eyes could roll to the back of your skull that will be great.

So, your boss has this thing where you have to meet him and then goes on to lecture you on your bad public image blah blah blah. A broken record. That is what he is. He needs to learn how to shut up.

"Please you need to attend the meeting or else," your manager took a deep breath, "he will be really angry at me. Since he also specifically mentioned the severity of your behaviour this time around."

"Andddd?" You nonchalantly glance over, not sure why you should care.

Your boss sure is a pain in the buttocks. You can handle yourself well without him. What about the severity of your behaviour this time around? This was not your first rodeo.

"Wait!" You yanked the collar of his shirt, "What do you mean by the severity of my behaviour this time around."

He miserably clutch onto his shirt to ensure he would not die to accidental asphyxiation.

"T-he paps!" He released himself from your grip and whispered into your ears, "They took a photo of you smooching a man! Boss was super - and I mean super duperrr - angry! Since this morning, he has been attempting to hide the entire situation from the public."

Smooch? The only thing you smooched was...

Oh!

Oh?

OH!

Ohhh?

OH!

So, someone did catch you getting first base with that German guy.

"Smooch?" Anri gasped, a little too loudly. Actually, loud enough for the entire Blue Lock facility to hear.

Smooch? The Blue Lock players repeated after Anri.

Anri clasped her mouth shut.

Erm oops. (Ŏ艸Ŏ)

Turns out, the screen was still on for everyone to witness.

"End of today's entertainment — hope everyone feels motivated by the special appearance of the wonderful idol," with a click of a button, Ego had the screen turned off to the disgruntlement of the players behind the screen and to the joy of Rin.

"W-we have to go!" Panic filled Mr Manager's voice as he tried to drag you out of the room.

"But my Rin!"

"You are welcome here anytime," Ego interjected.

"Really?" Your teal eyes lid up.

"Reward for work and work for reward. It is widely acknowledged that when individuals receive recognition for their diligent efforts, they tend to exhibit improved performance and exhibit a more optimistic outlook. As a result, it is imperative to provide incentives that are based on performance. By the way, I must take a moment to express my genuine gratitude for your presence here today, Miss."

You blinked at his response, "I don't know what you just said, but I will be back for my little brother, Go-go!"

Ego briefly reflects on his nickname and then lets a faint smile appear on his face, "Hope to see you very soon too."

"Ah, the boss is already calling me! We have to go!"

"Bye-bye, big melon woman!" You did not forget your manners, as you made your way out.

Anri shyly waved back at you.

Damn, I really want big boobs.

His sharp eyes met yours.

You gulped.

You felt like a deer caught in the headlight. It was just a smooch — a very normal German etiquette. No biggie. Right?

Your boss held a photograph of what you believe is the source of this man's frustration.

You took the photograph out of his hands, "I spy with my little eyes a man and an exceptionally drop-dead knockout woman engaged in - you know what? This is actually a really good photo! We could hang it-"

"For goodness sake!"

"-on the wall."

He ruffled his neatly tousled coif into a slightly messy one.

"It is just an old friend," You fidgeted with the ends of your dress.

"Friends do not eat out each other's face!" He exasperated, loosening his tie.

"I-"

"I don't think you get it. This photo shows very clearly, the nation's biggest star and the German prodigy footballer exchanging salivas! This is big big news! And it will be a scandal if people catch wind that you are going around smooching high profile people! What would people think of you? We have been through so many ups and downs together but this is your first relationship scandal. I can already imagine the looks of your fans-"

"Aren't you being a tad bit dramatic? Isn't it normal for a pretty girl like me to have relationships?"

"You are an idol!" He shouted, a little too loud that you flinched, "And what is this thing that your Manager told me? Regarding your desire for a boyfriend, please keep in mind that as an idol, you have a certain image to uphold."

You stood up and slammed the table, a little too hard — you felt your palm throb underneath. You took angry steps towards him and placed your still throbbing palm on his face ever so not gently.

He stared into your teal eyes and you saw the big gulp he took.

Taking another step closer till your head was right beneath his chin, you stared up at him and squeezed his cheeks with all your might. He groaned and grabbed your wrist.

"What is that for!" He softly clasped onto his tender, reddened cheeks. You harrumphed back at him.

"HA! Idol this idol that." You snorted, "what if he is actually my boyfriend? Have you thought of that? Plus, my fans are mature enough to understand. We've practically grown up together. Don't be delusional, old pal!"

Ah, I am really digging my grave.

"You know very well-" You eyed him sharply, his mouth clammed shut.

"Kaiser and I are super in love and so what if some paps caught us? Is it really possible for someone like me, a young and attractive woman, to remain celibate forever? I am certainly not a nun." You let your mouth run, nervously.

Wow, my grave has been dug real deeeep, very spacious if I say so myself.

To be honest, you were not even too sure what you were even saying. Your boss was being such a prick. Prickly prick. Ugh.

"When did you even meet that guy with your full schedule?" He asked, hands still on your wrist.

"Our love needs no words. Whence our eye meets, we are in love," You physically cringed at your words. Seeing the goosebumps rising from your boss's arms, you were not the only one who thought so it seems.

Great. Just great.

"Let us set this straight. So you are telling me that you are in a relationship with that football player?"

"Why do you act so surprised? C'mon, I have two fine brothers who are also football players. What can I say? I just love a man who can treat the ball right. It is all bound to be. Therefore this is no scandalous scandal you should be worried about."

He releases your hands and stuffs his hands inside the pocket of his suit, reaching for the cigarette pack. He let out a deep breath and then proceeded to light a cigarette. With a shaky breath, he exhaled the thick smoke, his head throbbing from pent-up exhaustion and frustration.

You almost felt sorry for him, almost.

"Sooner or later, the news will explode. I will have a statement prepared for the media. Get ready."

Oh jolly, will you look? My grave is the size of an Olympic pool! How spacious. Sorry, big man.

Your boss was a good man that cared for you. But sometimes it gets overbearing. Very red flag. Do you think maybe that's why he's still single? I mean, he's got a lot going for him - eligible bachelor, CEO, and let's be real, he's pretty good-looking. But there's gotta be a reason, right?

Ladies, if you need a man you can call me.

ヾ(о-ω･)ﾉ⌒★

Kaiser smiled to himself.

The brightness of his phone deepened his smile into one of a Cheshire cat.

On his phone was a picture of you helplessly holding onto him as he savoured your lips.

"Aren't we cute together?" He said to no one in particular as he caresses the rose tattoo on his neck.

Oh, how the world so nicely revolves around him that fate has brought you back to him.

It would be wonderful if you could be in his embrace at this moment.

He puts down the phone and closed his eyes.

Be patient. Mein göttin.

"You should go back to sleep," Sae's soothing voice nearly put you to sleep as you struggled to stay awake.

You heard rustlings on the other end of the call, pretty sure he was in the middle of his training.

Oops.

"I made a fool out of myself today!" You lamented, snuggling deeper into your silky covers.

"Aren't you always a fool? What did you do this time? Lo siento. Estoy hablando con mi hermana-" You could hear another feint voice conversating with him. Must be his teammates. You yawned.

"- I am sure it is nothing too serious as always. You are tired, go sleep," Sae returned to the conversation.

"It is really really bad..." you spoke softly, rubbing your face onto the silk.

"Did you kill someone?"

"My boss looked like he almost died but no," You stretched your aching body, "I think I just got myself a boyfriend, more like I just told my boss a big lie that is about to be publicised...That guy is not even my boyfriend and when he hears of this garbage - oh boy is he definitely going to have a heart attack. I am in big trouble."

"You dug your own grave," Sae said, cooly.

"I know right, the grave is swimming pool sized."

"Who is the unlucky guy?"

"Kaiser Mikel?" You attempted to recall his surname.

Sae paused for a second before he replied, "Michael. Michael Kaiser?"

"Oh, you know him?"

"I do. He is a... good player. Sister, how did you even get involve with him?" This time, Sae sounded genuinely curious very unlike his usual disinterested self.

"You see," you hugged your bolster tightly, "some bugger quote on quote took a photo of us exchanging salivas."

"Excuse me?" Sae choked, "Exchanging salivas? Mierda-" You could imagine your brother's incredulous yet icked face right now. Well, he wanted to know and you delivered. ｢(◔ω◔「)三

"You heard me right."

"I wish I did not just hear that. But Kaiser and you?" Sae did not fail to exaggerate the last part almost in a manner you did not enjoy.

"Why did that sound like you are mocking me?" You grumbled underneath your soft duvet.

"I don't think that guy will mind being your boyfriend if that helps," Sae shook his head thinking about the German prodigy.

"Really?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with sleepy excitement.

“Yeah. He- Dame un momento. I have to go now. I'll send you a text message. Go to sleep now," he paused briefly, "and have a good night."

There the phone line goes. Silence.

As if Sae had actually cast a sleeping spell on you, your head sank back onto the plush pillow and you succumb to silky sheets pulling you into a dreamy languor.

A boyfriend sounds nice... right?

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The sound of incessant phone ringing filled your room, grumbling under the sheets, you unwillingly pick up the phone.

"Who is it?" You drawled on every word in a drowsy stupor.

"Guten morgen, mein engel!"

You ended the call.

When did you fall asleep? You were having such a nice conversation with your brother too.

As you glance towards the window, you notice that the sun has barely even risen. Feeling lethargic, you let out a groan while still in bed.

Five more minutes...

Your dark lashes fluttered shut as you inhaled the fresh scent of cedar from your sheets. You sank softly into the mattress as sleep slowly envelopes you-

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You moaned softly.

"Five more minutes..." You spoke quietly to the spirits in your room.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Five just five-"

Ring. RIng. RIng.

Your eyes snapped open, half awake and half annoyed.

"What is it?" Mouth still dry as you tried to sound as harsh as possible to the rude morning caller, but it came out sounding like a meek, saddened mouse.

"Is mein liebling still sleepy?" The timbre of the caller's voice sent chills down your spine.

You know this voice! You rubbed your sleepy eyes and cleared your dry throat, "Kaiser?"

"Yes, Liebling." He purred.

Your bare arms prickled, sending you chills.

You were still sleeping, right?

"Er- wwie komme ich zu Cologne (*how do i get to Cologne)?" You spouted a random German phrase you so happen to remember from your travels.

"You are very cute," he lightly chuckled.

Oh damn, maybe you were half asleep but that was a pretty nice-sounding chuckle. Still, you did not understand what he just said.

"Someone reached out to me and said you are very much in love with me and that we are in a loving relationship," he continued softly, clearly enunciating each and every word you did not understand, "I am very very flattered, Liebling."

You feigned laughter in response, not sure what you are laughing at but he was laughing too so you are safe.

"Yes, it is a joyous occasion," Kaiser laughed in tune with yours.

Seriously, what is this man saying? You thought to yourself between laughs.

☆〜（ゝ。∂）the end (for now) ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

sike! Extras!

Sae is very unimpressed by Kaiser's courting of his sister. He does not know much outside of soccer but he sure as hell knows that Kaiser's method was, to say the very least, strange. He just hopes the German fella does not hurt his sister. That would be extremely troublesome.

<also, how would you react if you met someone like Kaiser irl, because girlfriend he is screaming red flag to me>

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