#anyway this is purely self indulgent but i hope someone out there sees the vision 🙏🙏

[paper-bag-arts]

i’m normal (lying)

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 10-12

Masterlist

Time for a Freaky Friday situation, an Isekai situation, and a fun family trip! And what’s a fun family trip without helping your uncle who is trapped in an attic and trying to raise a cat with your half-brother/uncle/whatever whose in your father’s body? Dear Grandfather God… get MC some help-

Let’s pick up where we left off last time with MC and Belphie >:)

“No need to be nervous, I won’t bite.” Belphie tapped his knuckles against the door he was leaning on to emphasize his point. “And I can’t on account of the magic door.”

“Why…” MC began before straightening their posture and clearing their throat. “What are you doing up here? I was told you were in the human world.”

“As you can see,” Belphie sighed. “I’m not. I’ve been stuck in the attic since before you got here.”

“But why?”

“Lucifer.”

MC narrowed their eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He locked me up here, rude, right?” Belphie’s carefree tone heavily contrasted how tense his shoulders were as he leaned oh-too casually on the doorframe. “To cut right to the chase, I need your help.”

“My… help..?”

“Yep. I need you to get me out of here.” Upon seeing MC’s scandalized expression, he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Calm down, I’ll explain.”

Belphie began his explanation. “So, Lucifer and I got into a little brotherly spat that got blown out of proportion, it was really all a misunderstanding. I want to be able to have a civil conversation with Lucifer that isn’t marred by my… prison.”

“Mammon told me that you opposed the exchange program, and that’s why you got sent to the human world.” MC said quietly. Ugh, they almost cursed themselves out then and there for all the muttering they were doing. They weren’t some guilty child!

Belphie had a look on his face that MC had seen on the five other brothers. The look that always preceded one of the brothers calling Mammon a scumbag, a moron, an idiot, or something equally nasty. The look quickly disappeared as Belphie gave MC a halfhearted shrug.

“I was, yes. But I couldn’t care less about that now.” Belphie waved his hand in the air like he was waving off the whole issue. “It was my bad, really. I was being unreasonable, and I got pissed.”

“What exactly do you need me to do to get you out of there?” MC asked, clenching and unclenching their fist to get the tension out.

“I need you to undo the spell holding the door shut. If you were anyone else, I’d be asking you to make pacts with my brothers in order to override Lucifer’s spell and open the door,” Belphie’s eyes flashed again. “But you… you can just use some of your magic, can’t you? I assume Lucifer passed some of his power down to you?”

MC stiffened and took a step back from the door. “How did you-”

“MC, I’ve lived with Lucifer for over five thousand years, I know his magical signature as well as I know my own, and yours is too damn close to his to be a wild coincidence. And,” Belphie gestured at MC. “You look and act like a mini him. It’s cute, honestly.”

MC frowned, cute?! MC wasn’t cute! But that was a… decent explanation..?

“So,” Belphie took a step back from the door. “Put your hand on the door, and try to open it. You might feel some magical resistance but if your magic is similar enough to Lucifer’s you might be able to open it without any difficulty at all.”

MC reached out, then hesitated. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

“MC, you’re my brother’s kid. I don’t want this dumb fight between me and Lucifer to break my family apart. Besides, it’ll be nice to have you as a part of the family too. I don’t want to sully that by being stuck up here.”

Part of the family? MC’s eyes practically sparkled. A real part of their new family… they looked up at Belphegor and nodded.

“Okay, here I go…” MC tentatively placed their hand on the door.

It began to burn at an intensity that nearly made MC scream and collapse on the spot. Their hand was glued to the door as the door’s spell seemed to crawl its way up their arm. MC countered with the biggest burst of their own magic they could possibly muster.

The blast of bright blue that slammed into the door made it creak back and forth slightly, but the spell held its ground.

MC snatched their hand back and stared expectantly at the door. They swayed on their feet slightly as they looked up at Belphegor, who tapped the door. When blue sparks met his hand, he frowned.

“It didn’t… it didn’t work… I’m…” MC paused before they apologized, they didn’t have to. They tried their best, didn’t they? They just needed to get a better hold of their magic. “I’ll get stronger, I’ll get better at magic and then I’ll come back and open the door.”

Belphie sighed in relief and smiled at MC. “Thank you, MC. You’re really helping me out here, you’re sweet.” Belphie then crouched ever so slightly to get to MC’s level, and smirked conspiratorially. “You know, all powerful demons need snacks to recharge their magic, right? Mammon has a massive stash of candy that he thinks is secret hidden in one of the potted plants in the planetarium. You didn’t hear this from me though.”

They gave Belphegor a small smile. “I’ll get you out soon, okay?”

“I trust that you will.”

———

Disgusting.

That was the one thought that permeated through Belphegor’s mind when he first saw MC.

The thought remained throughout the entire first encounter, and the feeling of roiling nausea only grew when MC’s attempt to break Lucifer’s spell failed spectacularly. Belphie tried as best as he could to follow MC’s retreating form down the attic hallway, but his vision was limited.

A half demon. Truly Lucifer had fallen from whatever grace he still had left from a time where his youngest brother actually respected him.

A half human child. Did Lucifer truly have no self respect? A proud high ranking demon, the second strongest in the entire Devildom, in fact, had a half human child.

How monumentally stupid.

Belphegor was no stranger to half-demons, he had been alive far too long to have never come across one. A few hundred years ago they were much more common, running around the human world wreaking havoc and scurrying around the Devildom like scared mice. The duality always made Belphie smile. They may have been beings of pure terror in the human world, but their demon half could never compare to real demons in the Devildom.

Asmodeus held the unofficial record for most half demon children, obviously. As much as Belphegor absolutely detested humans, he couldn’t exactly fault his older brother. Asmo was the Avatar of Lust after all, and the Avatar of Sloth of all people couldn’t judge him for indulging in his sin every once and a while.

Hell, even Satan and Mammon occasionally had children pop up in the human world. The difference, the thing that made all the difference was that they never brought their… spawn home. They never brought their half-human little monsters into his home.

What gave Lucifer the right to do so? The right to bring that into Belphegor’s home? One of the beings responsible for the death of their sister. His sister. Did he not care about that at all?!

Belphegor collapsed onto the bed in the attic, ruffling his hair and shutting his eyes.

The brat couldn’t even break the door.

The thought almost caused Belphegor to laugh. The little brat couldn’t even break the door.

He cracked up, muffling his laughter with his hand. The child was Lucifer’s and they couldn’t even fully break the door. My my, how the mighty have fallen. It had taken over three months for Belphegor to even get close to being able to get into that little brat’s head to call them up to him, and they couldn’t even break the door?

Belphie’s borderline hysterical laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation stopped abruptly as he looked around the room. Something-

Someone was glaring at him.

His eyes instinctively darted to the door, the most logical conclusion was that the brat had snitched and Lucifer was at the door. But the hallway was empty. The feeling of being watched made him shudder, then stiffen. He tilted his head and sat in silence. No sound, just the familiar smell of…

The Celestial Realm.

Belphie dragged a hand down his face and growled, lying back down and clamping his eyes shut. He needed to sleep.

So, that was the first problem MC had to face that month, the second was the fact that Satan snuck a cat into the house and he and MC were co-parenting it in secret. The third problem was Satan was still acting like a massive dickwad. All this fighting wasn’t good for baby Detective Toe Beans!

After receiving the “Lucifer got so mad he gave birth” talk from the other brothers, MC could have had their own rage-baby then and there.

I have never regretted typing a sentence more, but anyway, MC was on a warpath to find Satan.

‘Calm down,’ MC thought to themselves as they walked down the hallway of the HOL. ‘Don’t overreact, maybe this is all some big misunderstanding.’

The demon they were hoping to find was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. Satan gave MC a half nod and barely acknowledged them.

“Hi Satan!” MC chirped, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

After being so coldly snubbed, MC stood in the hallway completely motionless, until of course the little voice crawled its way up their spine and nestled in the base of their skull.

‘Who does he think he is?’

MC squared their shoulders and started after Satan, resolute in their totally non-suicidal goal of chastising him for his behaviour.

“Satan!” MC threw his door open and crossed their arms, the room was a complete mess of books and loose papers as usual, the Avatar of Wrath himself was sitting on his bed with his nose in a book. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” Satan drawled, not looking up from his book. That stupid encyclopedia must’ve been the most interesting thing in the god damn universe for Satan not to look up and see MC seething with a kind of pure rage only preteens we’re capable of. “Walking into people’s rooms without knocking is rude, you know. Let’s talk about that.”

“Honestly can you not be a smartass for a few seconds and just fucking look at me?!”

The sudden cursing got Satan to raise an eyebrow and look up. “What do you want, MC?”

“I want to know what the hell your problem with me is.” MC said, attempting to keep their voice as level and calm as possible. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you since I got here, and you’ve been nothing but a massive jerk!”

“Did you ever stop to think that I just don’t like you?”

“For what reason? What did I do?!”

“You look exactly like him!” Satan finally snapped. “Another Lucifer prancing around the house like they run the place!”

“So to you I’m just another Lucifer..?” MC asked, then let out a humourless laugh. “Are you… are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re pegging me as another Lucifer? You?”

Satan bristled, his eyes began to flash green, MC’s own eyes had begun to show a slight blue tint. “What are you implying?”

“I’m ‘implying’ that you, Satan, the one who was born of Lucifer’s wrath, calling me a copy of Lucifer is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.” MC snarled, almost every fibre of their mind was screaming to transform and teach Satan a lesson, but they held back. “You hate Lucifer, anyone with two brain cells can see that, but you don’t see how stupid you’re being?!”

In an instant Satan yanked MC up by the front of their shirt and let out a low growl. “Do you want to repeat that, half-breed?”

“You’re being an idiot.” MC’s bratty, teasing tone couldn’t fully hide the boiling anger that was just beneath the surface. “You think you have the right to demand that people see you as different from Lucifer, yet you don’t grant me the same courtesy.”

With that, Satan’s demon form was out and less than a second later so was MC’s. The half-demon’s foot shot out and hit Satan right in the knee, the Avatar of Wrath staggered backwards slightly which allowed MC to back away until they felt their back hit a pile of books.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, daring the other to make a move, when the door to Satan’s room slammed open. There stood enemy number one, Lucifer.

“What the hell are both of you doing?” Lucifer hissed, his eyes flicking between Satan and MC.

“STAY OUT OF THIS!”

With Satan and MC’s combined shout, books began to shoot off the shelves and off the tops of piles. The books whizzed around the room, crashing into things and making the room even more of a mess.

“Both of you calm down!” Lucifer growled, both Satan and MC turned to shout at him again.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

Quick as lightning, a book shot towards MC, time seemed to slow as the spine of the book brushed past their nose as they stumbled out of its way. MC was out of the book’s path, but now it was speeding directly towards Lucifer.

Satan, most likely desiring to protect his book from Lucifer-germs, dove forward to grab the book while Lucifer prepared to catch it with an outstretched hand. The moment the two touched the book a blinding flash of light engulfed the entire room, leaving everything completely still.

Huh, well that happened. Argument paused, gather everyone.

Satan and Lucifer switched bodies… coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool-

Wait why are they staying in MC’s room?!

Lucifer (in Satan’s body) pulled the “you live under my roof you follow my rules” card, and MC got to work ordering a tent on Akuzon. Their tent, their rules.

“Satan! We have a bit of a problem with you agreeing to stay in my room with Lucifer!” “And what’s that problem, MC?” “Uh, I don’t know, THE DETECTIVE.”

Satan completely forgot that they were hiding a cat from Lucifer. Whoops!

When Lucifer stomped out of MC’s room later that day holding the cat the two knew they were screwed.

MC and Satan had to compromise their dignity and beg Lucifer to not take away their poor kitty. Lucifer just grumbled that he’d deal with this when he got back into his own body.

Body switching shenanigans were abound, Mammon and Satan were working together to make Lucifer look as ridiculous as possible without breaking any of the ground rules everyone laid out.

This all culminated in getting Mammon hung from the ceiling.

That night, MC tried to ignore Satan and Lucifer’s sleep talking, but it was a fruitless endeavour.

The only good part of that arrangement was the fact that Bean refused to snuggle up to Satan while he was in Lucifer’s body, and Lucifer didn’t want the cat near him while in Satan’s body, so MC got all the snuggle time with their favourite kitty.

While Bean’s intense purring was adorable, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Lucifer and Satan’s rampant sleep talking.

“Fuck you Lucifer…” Satan in Lucifer’s body mumbled. “Gonna fuckin rip your head off…”

“Diavolo you can’t just get me another dog…” Lucifer in Satan’s body grumbled before letting out a snore.

MC rolled their eyes and looked at their cat. “Can you believe this shit, Bean?” They whispered.

Bean responded by pawing at MC’s face. What a big baby with such cute widdle eyes omigoodness what a baby baby-

Having enough of that tomfoolery, MC gently placed Bean down on their bed, and tiptoed out. They ended up doubling back to their room and grabbing one of their books.

Sneaking up to the attic a second time was much easier than the first attempt. It had been a week since their first encounter with Belphie and MC thought that he might want an update.

“So yeah… that’s what’s happening right now.”

Belphie appeared to be suppressing a laugh as he nodded and cleared his throat. “Mm… that’s… very unfortunate.”

“It’s not that funny.”

MC and Belphie stared at each other for a few seconds, before both of them broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Okay,” MC relented. “It’s kind of funny…”

“So, any updates on the plan?” Belphie asked, MC responded with a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, almost everyone has welcomed me in with pretty open arms, so I don’t think they’d question it if I asked them to come up here and get you out.”

“Almost everyone?” Belphie tilted his head as he leaned on the wall next to the door.

“Yeah… um…” MC quickly looked away and pursed their lips. “Satan… you know?”

“Ah,” Belphie’s usual lazy smile reappeared. “Satan’s going to be a tough one to win over. You know why, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucifer told you?”

“No actually,” MC mumbled. “Mammon, Beel, Levi, and Asmo did.”

Belphie’s eyes flashed for a brief moment, like MC had just offered him a present, but it was so quick MC barely took notice.

“I’m guessing he must be keeping a lot of stuff from you, huh?”

MC crossed their arms and shrugged. “Kinda… I guess. He kept you being in the attic a secret, he’s keeping the reason the Grimoire is in the Underground Tomb a secret…” MC frowned as all the strange little secrets began to come to light. Their father’s practically fanatical loyalty to Diavolo, the reason for the Celestial War, the reason no one talked about Lilith…

“Hm,” Belphie sighed. “It sucks that Lucifer doesn’t really tell you anything.”

“Mhm…” MC looked down at their feet, until they remembered the other reason they went up to visit the attic. “Oh! I brought you something!”

They held out the book to Belphie, carefully sliding it between the gaps in the door. “It’s a manga Levi recommended to me, I read it and it’s awesome! I thought you might be bored up here, so I brought it up for you to read.”

When Belphie took the book he stared at it like it was a completely foreign object, then his features melted into a smile. “Thank you, MC.”

“Right!” MC smiled proudly. “I’ll work on my magic, and on my relationship with Satan, then I’ll bust you out of here!”

Belphie chuckled and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck, kiddo. I believe in you.”

The seeds of discord were planted and the local attic cowboy was being one hell of a gardener. I need to stop typing take my phone away from me.

When MC left the attic, the first thing they heard was Mammon crying in the stairwell. It seemed that even the HOL’s ghosts were annoyed with all his whining.

“MC… help meeeeee…” “You’re hanging there for a reason, Mammon. I’m not going to disturb your punishment.” “MCCCCCCCCC!”

Don’t worry, MC did some sick maneuvers and cut Mammon down! Hooray!

“You now owe me a life debt.” “Wait what-” “We’re fixing my and Lucifer’s relationship with Satan.” “…kid if you smoked the weed in my room just tell me, I won’t be mad.”

No dear uncle Mammon, MC was not high on the devil’s lettuce, they were high on the power of family!

Time to fire up Doji Magi!

Obviously MC wasn’t the protagonist, everyone was trying to woo this random generic anime character (tm)

It wasn’t going good for anyone other than Levi. MC wasn’t even allowed to properly participate because Lucifer didn’t approve of his child getting involved in this degenerate anime stuff.

Too late Luci-goosey, your kid was a weeb long before they came to the Devildom

Of course, come graduation day, things got much more fun.

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” MC screamed with delight as they swung a folding chair at an oncoming monster.

Mammon was having decidedly less fun as he dealt with his share of the monsters that had suddenly spawned into the game. “MC what the hell are ya talkin’ about?! This is crazy!”

“Can both of you shut up?” Lucifer said as he calmly snapped a monster’s neck. “Get to the roof, all of you.”

“This was very well foreshadowed I’m very impressed.” Satan said, Levi nodded enthusiastically.

“I know! All those hidden lore bits were so fun to find.”

“Wait, lore?” Mammon asked, he turned to MC. “What’d we miss while we were in fake detention?”

As the group continued to make their way up the steps to the roof, downing monsters left and right, MC turned to Satan and laughed. “You’re absolutely drenched right now.”

Satan smirked and flicked some of the monster goop onto MC. “You don’t look any better.”

“Ew!” MC stuck out their tongue and leaned to the left, looking behind Satan. “There’s a monster behind you by the way.”

“Ah,” Satan turned and punched the monster so hard in the forehead that its skull caved in. “Thank you, MC.”

The rooftop was filled with significantly less monsters than the rest of the school, and it uh… oh… hm… gamer instincts were tingling.

“Hey, this is a lot of negative space…” Levi picked a medpack up off the floor. “And an odd collection of healing items…”

“Where’d all the enemies go..?” Mammon asked tentatively.

“Better question,” MC piped up. “Where’s the music?”

Right after those words left MC’s lips, the door to the rooftop burst open, revealing a very familiar three headed doggo that MC and Lucifer so adored. It was Cerberus! Who looked positively murderous!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Mammon shrieked and hid behind Levi.

“Oh… that’s what all the dog imagery meant.” Satan said. “I thought it was odd that all the books in this school’s library had something to do with dogs.”

“Yeah! Aw, it all makes sense now!” Levi exclaimed.

“Cerberus,” Lucifer stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Sit.”

Cerberus, did not in fact, sit. He instead growled like a monster truck, and the acidic looking drool that was falling from his gaping jaws was an indicator that the giant pupper was quite hungry.

“Uh… bad dog?” MC offered. With that, Cerberus charged forward.

Mammon, Levi, and MC dodged to the left while Lucifer and Satan dove to the right.

“Shit! How are we supposed to fight Cerberus!?” Levi squeaked.

“Maybe we can- SATAN WATCH OUT!”

Cerberus had decided to ignore Lucifer and rush straight towards the fourth born, whose weapon of choice had just decided to break, and MC had a sneaking suspicion that Satan wouldn’t be able to punch all three of Cerberus’ heads at once.

“CERBERUS!” Lucifer shouted, causing everyone to freeze in place. “YOU LAY A HAND ON MY BROTHER AND I WILL [Hello, this is the narrator, Lucifer has asked that I censor what he said because he doesn’t want this to end up reflecting badly on Diavolo].”

It was thirty seconds into the very vulgar threat before Levi thought it would be a good idea to cover MC’s ears. Game-Cerberus whimpered and sat down, much to the utter amazement of everyone.

“Wow, I can curse in Latin now!” MC chirped.

“MC, you will forget what you heard.” Lucifer sighed.

“Of course, father!” MC said sweetly, they then leaned over to Levi. “Noooooot.”

Yay, the fam’s out of the game! L!MC and Satan both agreed that Cerberus would never in a thousand years listen to either of them and they should just depend on Lucifer to deal with their homicidal pupper.

Good news, in the days after the game, glasses related thefts went down 100%! Also, pranks relating to Lucifer’s coffee being turned into vinegar went down 83%!

Satan was chilling out :D… but Lucifer still had a speech to give and he was not about to trust the guy who filled the house with cats once.

It was time for a visit to the human world to go find a witch!

“Come on! I wanna see the horsies!” Mammon whined, hanging off of Lucifer in Satan’s body like a petulant little kid. The actual kid rolled their eyes and snorted.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, Mammon.” Lucifer said. “You want to see the horses so you can find the one you’re going to bet all our money on.”

“Of course I wanna see the horse I’m gonna bet on!So can we gooooooo?!”

Satan in Lucifer’s body finished off the last of his gelato and scoffed. “No, we’re not going to bet the house on the ponies, Mammon. We’re going to spend it on-”

The high pitched shriek that left MC caused everyone to whirl in their direction as the half demon jumped up and down and frantically pointed at a sign. They were clearly trying to sputter out some kind of explanation of what had them so excited, but no one could understand a word.

“MC, calm down-”

“It’s the musical!”

“What-”

“I’ve watched so many analysis videos on this! Father! Father! The music in this is supposed to be insane! I wanna see! I wanna see! You gotta let me see!” Every single word was punctuated by MC jumping up and down to the point that Lucifer was actually concerned their wings might pop out and they’d take flight.

Right in the middle of one of their jumps, Satan caught them and held them up in front of Lucifer. “Oh dearest brother of mine, your poor spawn wants to see the show- hang on it’s this one?” Satan did a double take at the sign for the show. “Now I actually want to see this.”

Lucifer finally shoved Mammon off of him and got a good look at the sign, at least two out of the three people he was travelling with had taste. “Yes, we can watch the show.”

“Yay!” MC clapped their hands, then noticed their feet weren’t touching the floor and turned to look at Satan. “Uh, Satan, you know you can put me down, right?”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Satan said as the group began their walk towards the theatre. “It’s fun having you up as a half-human meat shield.”

“Hey!”

A distinct interest of MC’s had been discovered by the rest of the group that day when they started rambling and explaining the intricacies of musical theatre and opera to a very confused Mammon. Lucifer and Satan exchanged amused glances as MC continued to rapidly explain increasingly more confusing parts of music.

“So that’s the main difference between recitative and an aria,”

“Uh huh…”

“So technically Hugh Jackman is wrong in his explanation that Val Jean’s soliloquy in the movie adaptation of Les Miserables is recitative because it’s more of an aria because Val Jean is basically screaming about his emotions.”

“Hugh Jackman? Wolverine?”

“Yeah, Wolverine. Anyway back to leitmotifs-”

MC’s animated explanation continued all the way until the four were sat down in their seats and the show began. Mammon, of course, started fully weeping whenever anything sad happened. It was intermission when Lucifer and Satan finally had enough of it.

“Mammon…” Satan rubbed his temples and glared at the sobbing second born. “I swear, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to strangle you…”

“Do it like the Phantom of the Opera.” MC offered.

“What?” Satan asked.

“Lasso noose.”

Mammon loudly blew his nose and shoved popcorn a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Musical theatre is so fuckin’ weird…”

MC 🤝(being a musical theatre nerd) 🤝 Lucifer

So after the play, they hopped on the train and MC and Mammon stuck their heads out the window to baa at some nearby sheep. The sheep responded, Mammon and MC can speak sheep confirmed.

Of course, Mammon went off and got involved in the murder of the very witch they were trying to find.

“Only one version of events is ever true!” Satan proclaimed to the three unfortunate bastards that were also involved with the crime.

Lucifer looked from the dead body that was covered in a tablecloth, to MC. He made an awkward attempt to cover their eyes, but even he seemed confused by the action.

“Father, it’s fine.” MC lightly moved their father’s hand away and pulled something out of their brand new bag. “Satan, here!”

MC held up a Sherlock Holmes cap. “It’ll make you look more like a detective.”

“Thank you, MC.” Satan put the cap on and turned back to the crime scene in front of him. “I’m going to solve the shit out of this.”

Hearing those words come out of Lucifer’s mouth even knowing that it was Satan saying them made Mammon forget he was being accused of murder and laugh like a maniac. This did not help MC and Satan’s “Mammon’s not crazy” case.

MC and Levi had spent a week playing Danganronpa nonstop, MC was ready for this!

After clearing Mammon’s name, the ghost of the witch showed up and told the gang to solve her murder and she’d undo the body switch curse.

“The killer is, YOU!” MC and Satan pointed at the culprit with flourish.

“You have no proof!”

“I’m afraid we do in fact have proof.” Satan smirked triumphantly. “The other two suspects were too far away or standing up,”

“And the knife entered the body at a downward angle,” MC continued. “The only person close enough to stab the victim like that is you.”

“So suspect number 3,” The two said together. “You’re the dumbass who did it!”

“Did they rehearse this?” Mammon leaned over to ask Lucifer.

“No idea.”

Yay! Murder solved! Time for the life lesson!

“If only I had trusted him to be my apprentice…” “oh wow what a convenient life lesson, right father? Right Satan? Trust?”

“…” “…”

Satan and Lucifer got poofed back to normal and everyone got to go home. Lucifer, like in canon, lets Satan give the speech because he learned that he needs to trust his brother more and have a little bit of faith.

The speech is a success, and life returns to normal, but better. Satan and MC build up their relationship and after a few weeks, it was like the stuff from the beginning of the year never happened.

The attic was Belphegor’s favourite nap spot, though at the moment, Belphie didn’t want to sleep in the attic. He had been stuck up there for the past four months, and the only form of social interaction he had was sporadic chats with Lucifer or the half-human.

He must have been going completely mental up there because he was actually wishing he was talking to the kid, at least the brat was nice to him…

“Belphie!”

The cheery voice of the little “angel” echoed down the hall, Belphie found himself smiling at the sound, at least before he realized what he was doing. MC appeared at the door, practically bouncing on their toes.

“Belphie Belphie Belphie!” MC waved their DDD in the air.

“MC MC MC.” Belphie repeated. He leaned against the wall next to the door and yawned. “Nice to see you again, any updates?”

MC flicked through their DDD and gave Belphie a thumbs up. “I’ve been practicing my magic and stuff, but that’s not what I’m up here for.” They held up their DDD to show Belphie a picture.

“Beel’s team won their game-thing!”

The picture showed Beel in his team uniform eating an entire pie with a medal around his neck, the rest of the brothers and MC were posed for the picture around him. “I have no clue how this sport is supposed to work or what the rules are, but apparently he won, so that’s good!”

Any traces of Belphie’s half decent mood vanished as he looked at the picture. Everyone seemed… really happy. Levi, Asmo, Satan, Mammon, Beel, all of them, looked happy. Happy without him…

“That’s… great, MC.”

—————

Belphegor truly didn’t think he’d pity the human he vowed to kill. MC was literally a mixture of everything he hated, humans, Lucifer, Diavolo’s stupid exchange program… but yet, Belphegor felt pity.

The way MC lit up when they talked about the fun things they had done with the brothers and the other exchange students, how they went up to the attic to keep him company when they had a spare bit of time… they did all of that without knowing that Belphegor despised them. It was honestly pitiful.

Though, the Avatar of Sloth’s feeling of detest had somehow lessened. The little half demon had managed to get their hooks in him. Unfortunately for them, it only made Belphegor’s blood boil more. His brothers adored that little brat, it was plain to see. The half human had won them all over, like half of MC’s ancestry wasn’t responsible for the death of their little sister.

Belphegor narrowed his eyes as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had been stuck up there long enough to have counted every knot in the wood, every nail and plank, and every spider that managed to crawl through the cracks. The familiar feeling of guilt began to twist in his stomach. His sister died because Beel chose to save him. He should have been more careful… he shouldn’t have taken her to the human world…

‘It’s their fault.’ Belphie tried to push any and all thoughts other than that out of his head. ‘That human killed her. If they had never met she wouldn’t have died.’

Repeating that over and over did not expel the roiling feeling of guilt that crawled its way up Belphie’s spine and constricted his ribs.

“I hate you…” Belphie growled. MC was the reason for all this, weren’t they? They were the reason he wasn’t with his family, they were the reason they could be happy without him, yet even repeating his declaration of hatred like a mantra didn’t make the guilt go away. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!”

A sudden sharp yank on Belphie’s ear made him lurch upwards and look around the room. Nothing.

It was a childish gesture, wasn’t it? A sharp pull to his ear, a habit he knew all too well belonged to…

It belonged to…

…

Belphegor needed to sleep.

———————

Sup my witches, bitches, and bastards, we’re reaching the exciting part :D the part you angst hungry sickos (affectionate) are waiting for! ✨ lesson 16 ✨ next time, we’re doing the buildup, then after that, ANGST COUNTRY BABY!

Reblogs are very appreciated!

[ickle-ronniekins]

break me like a promise

desc: he wanted to tell you how he felt. he wanted to let himself love you. he wanted to do all of these things, but first he made a promise that nobody would get hurt. but when fred was busy looking out for your heart, who was looking out for his?

word count: 3.8k

pairing: WELL THERE ISN’T ANY PAIRING IS THERE???? because unrequited love sucks and i’m feeling real sad and wanted to make fred feel sad too (sry i’m mad at myself too it’s alright you can hate me)

warning(s): angst/sadness/pure heartbreak/i hate everything

A/N: i’d like to personally apologize to fred weasley/people who love fred weasley. might i suggest listening to the piano version of all too well by taylor swift whilst reading this. feel free to cry with me, thanks. PS: i do NOT give consent for my work to be reposted on any other platform.

Just how many times had he heard the words, “Best friends always fall for one another”?

He’d very much like to tell the people that had told him that to kindly piss off, thank you very much.

He’d been hurt many times before. Of course he had. Fred was used to it at this point, he reckoned his body had adapted easily to the constant blows to the shins or knees and things. As a brother, he was always getting ragged on and wrestled with by his other siblings. He’d ended up with black eyes, split lips, knees to the stomach more times than he could count on two hands. As an athlete, he’d taken countless bludgers to the body, either on the Quidditch pitch or in the comfort of his own backyard. George had been prone to getting hurt, too. Of course, Fred had always jumped at the chance to help George feel better, whenever he needed it. Fred loved being the older of the two. He always took his job as “big brother” very seriously, and it only got stronger once Ron and Ginny were born. He wanted to be somebody they could need.

But there was something different about this type of hurt. He couldn’t control it. He couldn’t make sense of it, and nobody could fix it, not even his own twin.

On the outside, Fred had always put forth an aura of confidence. Nothing could get him down, could it? He’d be dammed if he ever let anyone see him with nothing but a huge grin on his face, that usual mischievous glint in his eye. But on the inside, he was just like everyone else.

As a hoarse cry escaped him, he clamped his hand over his mouth, desperate to not let the sounds of his broken heart echo their way down into the common room, to where his friends were indulging in hot cups of butterbeer, cheering for Harry’s tumultuous win versus the others in the tournament, all the while unaware of Fred, unable to control his emotions and crumpling to the ground like a pit of scrap parchment thrown into the bin.

It was his own fault really. He shouldn’t have been so bloody stupid in the first place. He had this coming from the start. He felt a painful, unfamiliar burn in the back of his throat before his vision turned blurry yet again. He didn’t want to replay the sound of you saying I’m so sorry over and over in his head, like a broken record. He muffled some sort of expletive under his breath, and though he’d never admit it, all he yearned for was nothing more than a tight embrace from his brother.

He shouldn’t have let himself say yes.

He could have said no,

but he would’ve hated himself if he had.

“D’you reckon I’d be able to punch that smirk right off of his ugly little rat face?” you’d asked one day, brows threaded together in annoyance. The two of you were sitting in the middle of a Charms lesson, and you were glancing over toward a Ravenclaw who was busy charming his way through every single female student surrounding him with nothing but the batting of his eyelashes. 

You turned back toward Fred and your features twisted into a grin. “I mean, just look at him, would you? What an arrogant little git. Thinks he can just woo his way through a lesson. Ridiculous.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Fred asked you. Playfully, he elbowed you in the ribs, causing you to recoil a bit, and he continued, “wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that he’d been wooing you? Besides, Y/N, pretty sure I’d heard you ramble on about how he’s the best looking bloke in school,” he flipped his long hair dramatically in an attempt to make fun of you and earned himself a nice punch to the arm.

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. Sneering a bit, you said, “Yeah, that is until he opened his mouth,” You huffed and narrowed your eyes, “He really is a git, you know.”

“So you’re telling me,” Fred started, “that if he came up to you right this moment and asked you to go to the Yule Ball, you’d reject him?”

You nodded and widened your eyes, as if it were obvious. “Well, of course I would!” Flitwick dismissed you all, and you and Fred and the other students filtered out into the corridors to head to the next lessons. Fred gently guided you through the massive sea of students, and you two found a semi-empty spot near the Great Hall. “Sure, he’s good looking and all, but I don’t quite fancy spending the evening with a bloke who’s going to chat my ear off about the origins of his last name and how his parents are basically royalty, and all that.”

“He does not do that.” Fred laughed.

“Swear to Merlin, he does, Fred.” you replied, folding your hand across your heart. Then your eyes brightened. “Besides, why would I want to go with him when I’m going with you?”

That wasn’t the first time Fred had ever felt his heart soar. He’d been mad for you for years, hadn’t he? Yet, each and every time it took him by surprise, because what the hell was that going on inside of his chest? He never wanted to admit to himself how he felt about you, but it got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore; not to himself, at least. But nevertheless, he painted a look of confidence across his face so you wouldn’t be able to tell what he was feeling on the inside. He smirked at you, and watched a bit of panic sweep itself across your features. Your eyes widened. “Shit. I mean, you will go with me, won’t you?”

“Oh, was that the plan? Glad to have been a part of it,” he chuckled, hoping his voice didn’t sound too wobbly. He then poked you in the hips and said, “Of course I will. As long as you promise to not hurt me.”

You peered at him with a confused expression and he laughed. “Relax, Y/N. I mean just don’t step on my bloody feet all night.”

You sucked in a deep breath and then rolled your eyes and slinked your arm with his. “Thank Merlin. You didn’t really think I’d go with anyone else, did you? Come on, Weasley. I expected more of you. Now let’s go -- I reckon we’re in for quite the adventure, aren’t we? Can’t wait to see all these Gryffindors fall flat on their feet when McGonagall begins dance training today!”

You tugged on his hand to lead him into the Great Hall, but he merely floated through the air like a leaf being pushed and gently guided by the wind.

-- -

He shouldn’t have let himself get swept away.

He could have let himself go with someone else,

but he still would’ve been thinking about you.

George and Ron had told him to make a move after the Yule Ball. “Just go for it, mate, what could possibly go wrong? It’s obvious how she feels, isn’t it?” Fred wished he knew then just how wrong it could possibly go.

Fred resisted, though. He didn’t want to ruin a good thing. You two had danced the entire night away, you in your pale pink dress and white trainers. You two had been the last on the floor, and only left merely because Professor McGonagall had tapped you both on the shoulders to let you know that the evening was winding down. The band had stopped playing, anyway. And Fred, keen on wanting to make this a night to remember, kept everything exactly as it was. He gave you a small embrace in the common room at the end of the night before heading up to your respective dormitories. He didn’t want to mess anything up, and so he ignored his brothers’ advice and kept his lips shut.

He then began to panic, just as he always did. He began to pretend as though his feelings were fleeting, if only to fool himself. These feelings for you, they weren’t real, right? The way he wanted to hold you close and dance with you forever, the way he felt his heart constrict at the way your lashes fluttered when you looked down nervously toward your feet when he’d complimented you, the way he wanted desperately to lean in and kiss you at the end of the night. They couldn’t be real, because you two were just friends. Perhaps, he reckoned, maybe it was the excitement of the ball. The decorations. The dresses. He’d decided late that evening, still swimming in his high from the Yule Ball, that it had been exactly that -- the ball. It wasn’t you making him go all romantic, it was merely the excitement of the evening, and the tournament, and everyone being paired off in dates and things. He didn’t really fancy you.

He was proved very, very wrong the next morning when he waltzed into the Great Hall and saw you sitting at the table sipping your tea, back in your everyday clothes, back to normal -- just friends, as it had always been. And yet when you turned toward him and smiled, the sunlight highlighting your features in a way that made his heart jump, he knew that he was in over his head, because of course he was! He was mad for you and always had been, no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself otherwise.

“Freddie!”

He nervously walked over to the table, suddenly feeling ridiculously self conscious for the first time in his life, and you tugged on his arm so he’d sit himself down next to you.

“Was just telling George here how McGonagall had to basically pull us off of the dance floor last night, eh?” your eyes scrunched near the corners when you smiled so deeply. To George, you continued, “He’s quite the dancer, your brother.”

George sipped his coffee casually. “Oh yeah?” he raised an eyebrow up in surprise and smirked, but not for long, because Fred kicked him inconspicuously underneath the table and he groaned in pain.

This went unnoticed by you, Fred gathered, because you kept on talking without so much as a batted eyelash at the twins’ little rift. “Of course! Wildly talented, he is.” To Fred, you said, “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

Fred couldn’t help the immediate grin that spread across his face. “Yeah, we did.” His voice was soft as ever in his own ears, and everything around you both froze, until he heard George cough a bit on his piece of toast. Fred hated nothing more than being so vulnerable, so he attempted a joke, “Except for all the times you stepped on my feet. Blimey, woman, thought I wasn’t going to be able to walk at the end of the night.”

George started to laugh, and you kicked him under the table and swatted Fred with the sleeve of your sweater. “Hey! It’s real bloody hard to dance gracefully in trainers, alright? It’s too bad this doesn’t happen every year, or I’d be able to prove to you how good I actually am.”

“You mean to tell me you’d go with this git to the Yule Ball every single year if we had one?” George asked, throwing Fred a smirk.

“Why not?” you shrugged. “We make a good team. Why, you jealous, Georgie?” you giggled, reaching across the table and snatching his piece of toast and biting into it. The younger twin just glanced at you, unamused, all while Fred could hardly keep the loud pounding in his heart from growing.

You and George became fully immersed in conversation, but Fred was barely paying attention. He was too busy peering at you, indulging his feelings, because he’d have to be an idiot not too, right? He just keep watching you with a new type of admiration in his eyes, and he admitted to himself right then and there, when you glanced back at him mid-laugh as George made some stupid joke, that he was completely and utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

-- -

He shouldn’t have kissed you.

He could’ve just embraced you like normal,

but he would’ve been yearning to feel your lips on his anyway.

It was the one and only time he got to, and now of course he wished that he hadn’t, because all he could remember of it was the surprise of you and the salt from his own tears as they fell down his cheeks and onto his own lips as he rushed toward the Gryffindor tower.

“Oh, Freddie! You’ll never guess what I’ve just heard,” you’d called to him in a sing-song sort of voice down the corridors. You skipped toward him, bag slung over your shoulder as you made your way through students, only to come face to face with the ginger boy in front of the empty Transfiguration classroom you’d both end up in for lessons later.

“Well you going to keep me waiting, or what?” he asked, a bashful smile on his lips, and he couldn’t quite get over how adorable you looked with that cheeky grin on your face.

“Just had a little chat with Alicia,” you started. You grabbed his arm and shook him, “she needs someone to fill in for her in the upcoming match since Madam Pomfrey still won’t let her play, right? So take a gander, Freddie, at who she picked to replace her?!”

“If the answer isn’t you, then this is a terrible story.” he winked.

You cocked your head to the side and folded your arms across your chest. “Lucky it is me, then, yeah?”

For a moment, he thought you were joking until he noticed the evident sparkle in your eye that could only come from being told you’d be able to play in an upcoming Quidditch match. You didn’t even try and hide your excitement; a huge smile split your face and Fred picked you up in his arms and whirled you around, all while shouting how proud he was of you and how he couldn’t wait to take to the Qudditch pitch with you. “Bloody hell, you’re brilliant! No wonder I’m so mad for you.” You didn’t seem to notice his voice of words, because you just giggled like a little kid in his arms and were breathless when he set you down.

He shouldn’t have done it. He knew that. But with all of the excitement and adrenaline were surging between you both, he just had too. How could he not when you peered at him, eyes filled with wonder? How could he not, when he’d been hiding his feelings for so long? How could he not, when you were mere inches from him, and all he wanted to do was know the taste of you?

He shouldn’t have kissed you, but he did anyway. He placed you down gently and you began rambling on about how the entire Quidditch thing had unfolded a few moments before, and he was so filled with overwhelming love for you that he leant in and slowly pressed his lips to yours. At first he thought your shock was a good thing. Perhaps he’d taken you by surprise in the best way, and you’d melt into him and breathe that you’d been waiting for him to do that forever. You’d tell him that you’ve been crazy for him this entire time too, haven’t you? You’d smile and laugh like a little schoolgirl and tug him into a nearby empty classroom to make up for all the time you two had missed together.

But then you pulled back and pure panic took him over. He searched your nervous eyes and furrowed brows for some sort of answer, but all you seemed to be doing was collecting your thoughts. He watched as you tugged anxiously on the strap of your bag and your face flushed a deep, crimson red. He watched you for answers, but the more he searched, the more he felt like he was caught in a rip tide pulling him further and further from the shoreline.

He opened his trembling mouth to speak, but all that escaped him were nervous “um’s” and you kept on shaking your head. “Fred,” you said hoarsely, and he hated how terribly different and foreign his name sounded on your lips. “What.. what are you doing?”

“I --” he stammered, and he felt like a complete idiot for not being able to get the words out. Since when had Fred Weasley ever been tongue tied? Since when had he ever lost his confidence? Since when had he ever let anyone see him so open.. and bare.. and painfully, heartbreakingly vulnerable?

He couldn’t help but notice just how heavy you were breathing. From nerves, surely, because he was doing the exact same thing. In fact, as deep as he breathed in, he still felt as though he couldn’t fully catch his breath.

“I thought you, erm..” you started, and Fred could see the tears trying to push past your eyelashes, “Fred, we --”

He finally found his voice, because he stupidly blurted out, “I’m mad for you,” and he wished he hadn’t. Your face dropped and you peered at him with a longing he’d never seen before.

Your voice was painfully soft as you looked toward the ground. “You’re -- you’re my best friend, Fred.”

His questions must’ve been written across his face plain as day, because you grabbed his hand and began pleading. “I mean, the Yule Ball, we’d gone as mates, hadn’t we? We’re friends, Fred. We’ve always been friends.”

Bloody hell, how many times could you say the word friends? Felt quite like a dagger straight to his heart.

He wanted to ask, You’ve never felt the same way, have you?

And he knew you’d respond, I love you like a friend, Freddie.

“Fred,” you breathed, and squeezed his hand, but he couldn’t seem to say anything. “Fred, please, I-I’m so sorry,”

With every ounce of strength he had, he swallowed his tears and sadness and vulnerability and painted a smirk onto his face. It didn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes though. “No, listen, don’t.. be sorry, Y/N -- I-I just.. read things wrong, I s’pose. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

By the look in your eye, he knew you didn’t believe him, and he didn’t really believe himself either. How could he possibly be alright when he felt as if he were being thrown from a cliff? You ignored everything he’d just said, and instead opted to try again. “Fred, you’re my best friend -- please, I’m so sorry, I can’t take it if you’re mad at me,”

He hated seeing you cry. He hated seeing you so upset. He cupped your face in his hands and forced out a laugh that could almost pass as real. “Y/N, stop. I’m not mad at you. How could I be mad at you? You’re my best mate! I just.. it’s fine. Let’s forget all about it, alright?” He hoped his voice sounded firm, because he wanted you both to do just that. Forget. Just then, the bell rang and students began pouring out of classrooms and filtering into the corridor. Fred let go of you and looked toward his feet before backing away and meeting your gaze again. “Have got to get to Dark Arts. I’ll see you later, yeah?” he grinned, though his heart was not in it.

Before you could say anything more, or before Fred fell to the ground in pure agony, he walked swiftly passed you in the complete opposite direction of Defense Against the Dark Arts and picked up speed, because he just needed to get to his dormitory. What the hell was this pain he felt in the back of his throat? He didn’t look back -- he couldn’t. He didn’t look back as his vision became blurry, and he didn’t look back to see you standing there in the place he’d left you, a hand clamped over your mouth and tears streaming down your face at the thought of breaking your best friend’s heart.

-- -

He shouldn’t have let himself fall for you.

He could’ve tried seeing someone else,

but he would’ve been fooling himself if he pretended to be in love with anyone but you.

There was no way he’d be able to face you now. He’d stealthily snuck through the crowd in the common room and had ignored the faint sounds of your voice calling his name. Nobody had noticed, really, for they were too busy celebrating Harry’s victorious second place win in the second task and eagerly discussing the third.

He wasn’t hiding it anymore. It was written plain as day on his face, he reckoned, his eyes wet with heartbreak and his cheeks flushed red from all of the crying he’d been doing. How could he have been so stupid? Of course you didn’t feel the same way. You’d said it yourself, hadn’t you? Friends. Always been friends. And that’s all you two would ever be.

Sometime later on, after he’d been lying in bed for upwards of an hour staring at the ceiling, the tears started again. And this time it was worse. This time, they were big, fat, heart-wrenching tears and hoarse cries he couldn’t stop. They were involuntary. Someone quietly made their way into the dormitory. Fred looked up through his blurry vision. It was George.

Being the elder of the two, Fred had always cared a little bit extra about George. How many times had he comforted the younger twin? When George had scraped his knee running around their yard, Fred had cleaned him up. When George had fallen off of his broom and broken his arm, after Molly had warned them not to fly that way, Fred had patched him up. When George had to wear his glasses to lessons one day during their first year and had been made fun of by some annoying, rude Ravenclaw, Fred held George when he cried in their dormitory. So now, when George peered at his older brother biting back tears, he merely bit down on his lip to fight back his own, and opened his arms.

Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment. Maybe it was because George knew without Fred needing to even tell him. Maybe it was the way that George knew, deep down, just how broken Fred felt. Broken like a promise. Maybe it was a mixture of lots of things that made Fred collapse into his younger brother and not hold back his tears.

Maybe it was the way George had said, “I know, mate,” that made Fred hold onto him a little bit tighter and a little bit longer.

All Fred knew was that, in that moment, his brother was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

He shouldn’t have fallen in love with you.

He could’ve stopped it, if he’d tried hard enough,

but he would’ve just fallen even harder.

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[evanthenerd83]

“Holly And The Demon Visit The Mall”

1

“Do you feel me,” asked Holly.

The demon nodded, then looked away sheepishly. “I… I guess.”

She smiled. Teeth nearly blinded It. Nearly, because the demon was used to far too much light.

Hell had several suns.

It was always summer, too.

Holly jumped off the hood of the cop car. “Good.”

She still wore her school uniform. The skirt danced about, revealing pale legs and torn stockings.

And thighs. Just the bottoms. But just the bottoms were enough.

A sudden chill sent the demon glancing every which way—at a discarded soda can, a stained napkin, a used condom. It knew that Its cheeks were blue.

Thankfully, Holly didn’t seem to notice. She never noticed.

She skipped around the cop car. Towards the back. Her hand tapped, tapped, tapped on the trunk.

She had nimble fingers. Small hands and nimble fingers.

Fingers that traced the handprint, which was beginning to dry. It was no longer bright red. It looked more brown, brownish black.

The demon felt like gagging.

“You’re… you’re—“

“Absolutely adorable?”

Holly opened the trunk. Her face disappeared.

The demon nearly gagged.

“No. Yes. Kind of?”

A sharp giggle, girly, cut through the night. It was sweet. It was also poisonous.

The demon felt needle-hairs rising to attention. It wrapped Its arms around Itself, and one of Its horns shrunk. The other wobbled a bit.

“Aw, thank you.”

The demon watched the trunk.

It could hear her rummaging around, shoving things. The cop car started to bounce.

The demon held Its breath.

It glanced at the mall.

Lights were still on inside. The parking lot was just barely empty. A few cars sat in sporadic spots.

People were still there.

People.

Men. Women. Children.

An image flashed through the demon’s mind, vivid and sensory. An image so horrible— and so horribly detailed—that it gagged.

It stumbled.

It leaned against the cop car with one clawed hand.

The night spun.

At that moment, Holly slammed the trunk. The sound carried. Nobody seemed to notice.

She was carrying something. The demon could tell. It was obvious from how she was walking. She was also grunting.

The demon screwed Its eyes shut.

‘Please be a hammer. Please be a hammer. Please be a hammer.’

It wasn’t exactly praying. Not entirely.

If a demon prayed, it only prayed to one being. And that being definitely wasn’t a God.

Not an all-loving God, anyway.

Not even a God.

It was a being that barely answered its worshippers’ prayers.

And if it did, it did so with ulterior motives. It only wanted to entertain itself.

The demon was mostly begging. It was begging to the other being, the one opposite—an all-loving God.

Its sworn enemy.

Holly came around the side of the cop car. Her footsteps echoed, a tap-dance routine. They abruptly stopped.

The demon saw her black shoes in the corner of Its eyes.

They shined.

“Whatcha doing?”

‘PleasebeahammerPleasebeahammerPleasebeahammerPleasebea— Oh. Crap.’

The demon gasped. It had glanced up at Holly, slowly, hesitantly. It had just seen what she was carrying.

The thing she had resting against her shoulder.

“No.”

Holly blew a bubble.

Her gum popped.

She resumed chewing it.

“Yes.”

Holly spun around, then started walking towards the mall.

The hammer was big, very big. Practically a sledgehammer. It bounced with each step.

It must have weighed a ton. A hundred tons. Holly didn’t seem to notice, however. She moved just as fast as ever.

The demon stumbled to Its hooves.

It chased after her, tail swinging, striking the pavement. A fear pounded its way through Its chest.

“No. No. No. You can’t.”

It caught up with the girl.

Holly ignored It.

She kept chewing her bubblegum. She had her free hand stuffed inside a pocket, and one of her shoes was untied.

The laces flipped and flopped.

The demon growled, then jumped in front of her. It spread out Its arms. It also shook Its head.

Holly froze.

“No. No, Holly. Not again.”

Holly just stared at It. Her green eyes gleamed. They glimmered like diamonds.

The demon wasn’t sure if this was from the moonlight, the lights in the mall, or something different altogether. Maybe a little bit of both.

Maybe it was her soul again.

Her damned soul.

Holly tilted her head. A curl of blond hair came loose, falling over her left shoulder. It looked cute.

She looked cute.

Wait. What?

The demon blushed again. It looked away from her.

“Why not? We had fun last time, right?”

The demon felt tears forming. They burned.

But It took a deep breath, and It shook Its head again.

“No. You had fun. I was—“

“Hiding in the shadows. And pools of blood. Like a little bitch.”

The demon gaped.

Before everything, all of this mess, Holly had never sworn. Ever.

In the sixteen years of her life, It had never caught her swearing. Not even when her little brother accidentally killed—well, semi-accidentally killed—her pet goldfish.

Or when her crush had stood her up at the Valentine’s Day dance. Nor when she had found him behind the cafeteria, sticking a finger up Jenny Mackindale.

Or when her parents had sent her to the shrink.

Or—

The demon grabbed both of her shoulders. It looked deeply into her eyes.

“Why?! Why are you doing this, Holly?! Huh?!”

Holly just blinked.

She chewed her gum.

“You never spoke like this before… be-before…”

Holly blew another bubble. Like before, it burst.

“Before you showed up?”

The demon blinked a few times.

Yes.

Yes, she was right.

Before It had shown up, appeared in the middle of her dorm, Holly had been a simple girl. A good girl.

Not necessarily a good student. But nobody really was a good student if they went to a catholic school.

The demon knew.

Everyone sinned.

The young. The old. The middle-aged.

Even newborn babies sinned. It was only natural. Humanity was a terrible species, violent and horny and very, very, very selfish, and it was normal for them to seek their own satisfaction.

But Holly…

… Holly was different.

She hadn’t sinned. Ever.

Like her mouth, she had been pure. Unpolluted. She was actually a good person; helpful, forgiving, considerate, respectful.

But now.

Now.

Holly pushed It, passing by. The demon rocked on Its heels for a second. It managed to stabilize Itself.

But by then, it was already too late.

Holly was already entering the mall.

2

“I don’t understand why—“

“You don’t understand anything.”

They were power walking, side by side.

The demon swiped a claw across Its forehead. Pain rose up Its arm. Sweat peppered Its rippled, scaly skin.

Everything that came out of the demon—be it tears or sweat or pee—was acidic beyond all measure.

It had ruined way too many toilets.

No wonder they’d been jumping from motel to motel.

“Hold on,” Holly plucked out her gum. She pinched a pink blob between her fingers.

The demon froze. “What?”

Holly peered back.

She winked.

She swung by a trash can. Said trash can had been positioned behind a rather imposing pillar. Said pillar, gray and very, very close to falling apart, was standing in the middle of the lobby.

The lobby. That wasn’t the right word… was it?

The demon didn’t really know all that much about the living world. It knew enough to get by. How else could It have survived this long?

It had a vague understanding of malls. These large, maze-like complexes bristled with self-indulgence and self-flagellation. Not to mention… capitalism.

So much capitalism.

It knew that humans, driven by their need for material objects, went from shop to shop, wallets filled with money. They bought things. The mere variety of things sent a numbing shock through the demon’s mind.

Books.

Clothes (especially those with more than one fabric).

Jewelry.

Shoes.

Blow-up dolls.

Dildos.

Cold suddenly flooded Its cheeks, and the demon covered Its face with both hands.

It took deep breaths.

“Hey. You okay?”

Her voice made It jump.

The demon also yelped. A hand was suddenly slapped over Its mouth, and Holly glared at It.

She lifted a single finger to her lips.

The demon went quiet. It might not have known much about humanity, but It did understand the gesture.

Be quiet.

Holly pulled It behind the pillar.

She backed up, pressing her back into the pillar. She had It cradled. She was hugging It.

“Hope you weren’t too loud,” Holly peered.

The demon went rigid.

It could taste metal. No, not metal.

‘Blood,’ It realized. “I’m tasting the blood on her hands. Oh, Christ, oh lord, oh my Go—‘

Holly breathed a sigh of relief. Something soft and plump, but not too plump, touched the demon’s spine.

No. Not just something. Some things.

Things that, from Its calculations, were situated on her chest…

‘Tits.’

She let go, and the demon fell to Its knees.

The floor was colder than her hands. Discarded receipts fluttered by. A broken watch gleamed, and It impulsively glanced up.

Holly grabbed her sledgehammer. She’d laid it down while throwing her gum away.

She spun around. For Its credit, the demon tried to avoid the whiteness—flesh, fabric, didn’t really matter—that suddenly flashed across Its field of vision. It did try.

A glare pinned It down. A frown as well.

“H-Holly—“

That gesture again.

Holly tilted her head. She indicated the side of the pillar.

The demon shuffled on Its hands and knees, peering around. It felt like a soldier crawling through a trench.

Was there a sniper waiting for It?

If It exposed Itself, would a bullet go flying? Or would someone scream, causing others to scream?

Scream and scram?

The demon would have giggled.

It exposed a single eye, iris deep crimson.

It saw what she’d been checking out.

The food court, across the lobby, was closed. Many of the restaurants had their lights off. Sandwich Queen. McRonald’s. Burrito-ville.

Only a few still ran. A Lamby’s was being tended to, the cashier Holly’s age. The cook kept looking back at her.

But that wasn’t all.

Because It then saw… them.

Them.

“Do you see?”

The demon didn’t respond.

It shook Its head, slowly at first. It quickened. An icy dread flooded Its empty lungs.

Holly gripped the sledgehammer tighter. Her knuckles turned white.

It knew that she was licking her lips. It could feel the bloodlust wafting off of her, thick and musky.

And what Holly was feeling was bloodlust. Blood. Lust. The demon heard her breathing heavily.

“Do… Do you see?”

The demon gulped.

It could see. It could see plenty.

They were just sitting there, all of them at one table. One—a girl—was busy with her cellular device. Another—a boy—had his arms draped around the girl’s shoulder.

Yet another tipped his chair backwards. A different girl sat in his lap, face twisted in mock horror.

She was giggling.

A third boy stared at a third girl. A goth girl, the demon realized.

A goth girl with her hand underneath their table, shoved down his pants—

“Holly.”

Holly was silent now.

It scooted back, then stood up. It put both claws on her shoulders. It stared deep into her eyes, searching for something, anything, a shred of the girl she had been.

All It found was excitement.

“Holly,” It whimpered. “Holly, no.”

Holly was no longer listening, though.

She was now tossing her sledgehammer—such a big sledgehammer, where’d she even find it—from hand to hand. She muttered to herself.

“No. Not like this.”

Left hand.

“No. Not that either.”

Right hand.

The demon shook her. It was sweating acid-bullets now.

“Holly? H-Holly, please don’t. Just leave them alone.”

Above.

“Maybe it should be higher? No. Not that high.”

Below.

“At my midsection?”

The demon gripped her shoulders tighter, and It felt Its nails digging into the flesh. It loosened Its grip.

“Holly. Holly, let’s just… let’s just go back to the motel. We can… we can order room service… or something.”

It was desperate now.

It was close to tears now.

But Holly didn’t notice. She had finally found a position that she liked. The sledgehammer was tilted, horizontal, and her left hand gripped the handle, the knuckles turning blue.

“Hey! Re-remember that s-story I refused to t-t-te-tell? About those b-b-b-bl-blo-blood or-or-orgies? I… I’ll tell them now. I’ll tell you everything. Just please, just please, don’t go hurting those nice peo—“

Holly ducked out of Its grip.

She then began to run.

…

The teenagers didn’t know what hit them.

Well, that wasn’t true. They saw her running towards their table. How could they have not?

She was wearing a school girl’s uniform. A light brown vest over a white button-down shirt, her collar undone. Her skirt revealed legs that wouldn’t have quit.

And they didn’t quit. They carried her all the way to their table.

Marcy saw the school emblem—a cross.

She was sitting in the right position. She looked up from her phone just long enough to see it.

And to catch the blunt side of the sledgehammer.

Tony managed to stand up and clench his fists. The words were at the tip of his tongue; those three, simple, universal words.

What. The. #$@&.

But before he could open his mouth, the girl swung her sledgehammer.

Everything cut to black.

Samantha instinctively clenched her own fist, and Marcus suddenly reached the finish line. He screamed her name. It sounded like a goat baying.

Something warm filled her hand.

Something else that was warm soon filled his pants.

She tried to pull out. She tried. But before she could, a shoe hit her chest, and Samantha fell backwards.

Marcus went with her. He had a funny look.

That funny look disappeared underneath the sledgehammer.

Samantha opened her mouth to scream.

Something filled her mouth. Another shoe. It was shoved hard, and pressure started to build. A cracking sound from somewhere inside her own head. The pressure gave way to brief, potent pain.

One last, loud crack.

Her lower jaw came loose. It practically dangled, swinging from side to side.

The sledgehammer then found her.

Silence. Dark.

And the warmth coating her hand faded away.

The girl stood over her, chest heaving, cheeks flustered. A strand of blonde hair was plastered to her forehead.

Her eyes gleamed. But they didn’t gleam like emerald diamonds. They gleamed like glass.

She heard their chairs scraping the floor.

She spun around.

The empty chair kept on spinning.

…

[littleoddwriter]

Hurt | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

This is a purely self-indulgent (and kinda vent-y) Hurt/Comfort fic with my fave comic book Roman version (Red Hood and the Outlaws Rebirth). If anyone should end up reading this, I do hope you enjoy this! Also, uh, reader has BPD in this and the TW’s should say it all, so be cautious when reading, please!

summary; Red Hood makes a snide remark that leaves you overwhelmed with negative emotions. Roman ends up comforting you, after Red Hood inquires about your relationship with him. 

notes; TW // BPD episodes; Intrusive Thoughts; Self-Harm (implicit; punching oneself; also attempted self-harm); Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Blackmailing, and a non-con relationship (FALSE accusations); Red Hood handles reader a little roughly at one point; Daddy!Kink. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Hugs; Sitting on one’s lap.

"Look, Roman, I don't mind your whole BDSM theme you've got going on. It fits you. But this seems to go a little far, even for you. I mean, this is breakfast, right?" Red Hood said, ever sounding so dry and sarcastic, sitting at the other end of the table opposite from you and Roman. You lowered your head in shame, as your face burned with it, your heart clenched painfully and your hands balled into fists, bunching the fabric of your pants, as you started trembling. Roman's arm tightened around your middle. You sat on his lap, as he fed you forks full of food alternating between you and himself. Having woken up feeling bad, this was routine for such mornings. It grounded you, made you feel a little calmer and had you feeling less like you wanted to rip your own skin off. "I'm sorry. I'm embarrassing you," you whispered quietly, so only Roman could hear it. He squeezed you where he held you around your waist and spoke just as quietly, "Not at all, sweetheart." Black Mask encouraged you to lean back into him with a nudge. Your back rested against his chest and stomach, as your head was supported by his shoulder. Turning your head to the side, your nose pressed against his neck. The smell of his leather mask and perfume all too familiar and soothing to you. You inhaled, a quiet and content sigh left your lips, as you relaxed a little. "Now, now, Red. I don't see why this should be any of your business, hm? This is my home after all. I own everything and everyone in here. Therefore I can do as I please, wouldn't you agree?" Roman said finally, tilting his head a little, looking as inquiring as he sounded. "Sure, sure. Still, it's just... weird. No offense." A dry chuckle left Black Mask's mouth as he shook his head slightly and tightened his grip around you, sure to leave a bruise by now. That was that then. You knew Roman had plans for Red Hood, so he probably held himself back here because of it. Usually he would have shot the person uttering such things as soon as those words had left their mouth. You were glad he hasn't done it this time, as you didn't fancy having someone's blood on your hands. After a couple of minutes of charged silence, in which the three of you finished eating your breakfast, Roman squeezed your waist once more. You lifted your head and sat up properly. "I need to talk some business with Red, here. You can go and do whatever you like, as always, alright, baby?" You nodded and gave a quick, uncertain glance over to Red Hood before turning your head and leaning into Roman. Then you pressed your lips against the cold metal zipper of his mask, which he's closed back up seconds before. Black Mask hummed approvingly in the back of his throat and nudged his masked face against yours in mock of a kiss back. Then you leaned back again and slid off his lap. You waved good-bye and then left the room. As soon as you were alone, the crushing feelings from before came back in a rush. The shame, the guilt, the anxiety, the anger. It was so much. Too much. Promptly, you started trembling again. Your skin felt tight, you wanted to rip it off, scream, cry and disappear. You had embarrassed Roman. Red Hood probably couldn't take him seriously because of you. Just because you're so fucking pathetic that you needed to be sat on his lap and be fed. Fuck! Intrusive thoughts of hurting yourself came over you, such as the urge; and fuck, it was so strong. It hasn't been this strong in at least two weeks. A long time for you. You didn't want to do it, though. You didn't want to give in. Walking around the penthouse and trying to find something to do that would take your mind off things, the urge only became stronger. It loomed over you, suffocated you. It was so tempting. You just wanted to get rid of those feelings. You just wanted them gone so badly. Various images of how you could do it popped up, your mind's eye forced to take them in. It was an itch you desperately tried not to scratch. After an hour of having done skills and tried to get rid of the feelings through some exercise and such, you were still trembling with the urge and overwhelming tightness of the suffocating emotions. You figured that perhaps Roman was done with talking by then, so you went back to the dining room where you have left him. "Hey, Luke, is Roman still busy talking in there?" You asked one of the masked goons standing outside the door. Your voice sounded tight, restrained, and yet so very dull. All those emotions that still tried to claw their way out of you were held back by you by sheer force. "Yeah, he is. What d'ya need him for? I'm sure the boss doesn't mind if ya interrupt him if it's important." "Fuck," you muttered. "No, no thank you. I really don't wanna interrupt him," you then said louder, so Luke could hear you. He nodded and you turned to go back to your room. A while later, you were sitting in the hallway that housed Roman's family portrait. You sat on the floor in front of it, a sketch book in your lap and a pencil and eraser in your hands. Your ears twitched when an unfamiliar footfall came closer to you. When you looked up, you saw it was Red Hood. Immediately panic gripped on to your heart, squeezing it tightly, and surrounded your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Red Hood was looking from side to side before crouching down in front of you. "What are you doing here?" He asked, confusing you. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" "No, I meant here, as in, with Black Mask. Is he forcing you? Blackmailing you? Look, if he's got something on you, I can help you." Your face twisted with both confusion and anger. The panic hasn't subsided, but it made a little way for anger and hurt. "Excuse me? Do you- Who do you think you are? Why do you think you have any place to make such horrendous assumptions?" "He's a bad man and you know it. I'm sure you're not unaware to his 'business', right? It's not too far-fetched that he might have gotten a little too lonely and... y'know?" "What the fuck? Listen, Red, I don't give a fuck who you are or who you aren't. I don't give a fuck that you clearly don't know shit about what you're saying, so just leave me alone, will you?" Instead of leaving you alone, he gripped your arm and pulled it towards himself. "I'm not stupid, I've seen the bruises on you-" You snapped. "Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You don't know anything! Shut the fuck up!" You shouted, pulling your arm free from him, as he loosened his grip in surprise. Your vision was blurry and red, tears burned your eyes, you were in so much pain all over again. You had just managed to get rid of it. Not without visible bruises on your arms. The bruises Red Hood mistook for abuse marks from Black Mask. It made you feel sick. You took the pencil from the ground where it had fallen onto, after you had jumped up when you had pulled your arm free. Close to stabbing it in your arm, someone embraced you from behind, one arm went around your waist and held you tightly against their chest, pressing their body against your back; and gripped tightly on to your wrist of which hand you held the pencil with. The soothing and familiar smell of leather and his perfume hit you. Roman. You trembled with the panic, the overwhelming emotions and the urge to follow through with what you've almost had just a moment ago. "Ssshhhh, sweetheart, ssshhh," Roman cooed, shushing you quietly. A whimper left your lips as you let go of the pencil. The noise it made when it hit the floor was crushingly loud in your ears.   "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeated over and over again, whimpering and sniveling. Roman continued to shush you quietly, lowered your arm to your side and turned you around, so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and stroked over your back soothingly. "Leave now," he commanded Red Hood, whose quick footsteps you could hear fading away. "Oh, sweetheart, my darling boy. What did he say? What happened, huh?" Your sobs had died down by that point and while it took you a great amount of effort to be able to reply, you did. "He thought you were forcing me to be with you. That you were abusing me b-because of my-my bruises. I'm sorry. I've already embarrassed you at breakfast and now I did it again, I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry!" "Not at all, sweet boy. You haven't embarrassed me at all. Calm down, eh? It's alright. If anything, he was trying to get a rise out of me at breakfast. That's just how he is. I'll talk to him about this, later, hm? If I didn't have plans for him, he'd already be dead anyway." You nodded against his neck and the grip your hands had on his back tightened. As so very often, you couldn't possibly fathom why he put up with you at all, why he took his time to calm you down and reassure you. He could very well be the worst of the worst, like he was to so many other people; yet he seemed to have the patience and understanding of a Saint with you. It had your mind reeling. "Now, my sweet boy, I know you hate when I ask, but have you hurt yourself before this, today?" Roman asked eventually, his voice a gentle rumble. Once more, you nodded against his neck, inhaling sharply. "I'm sorry," you added quietly. "Why didn't you come to me, hm? I assume it was because of what happened at breakfast. Am I wrong?" "You're not, I'm sorry. I didn't want to interfere. And I didn't want to do it either, I tried not to, I promise. I did everything I could, but I just- broke." "Alright, sweetheart. It's okay. Though, am I remembering this incorrectly or have I really not told you that you could interrupt me and ask for help whenever?" "You've told me, I'm sorry, I know. I didn't want to... embarrass you any further, is all. I'm sorry, Daddy." He loosened his hold around your waist and leaned back, so he could look at you. Reluctantly, you faced him.  He let go of you with one arm completely and took ahold of your arm where you've injured yourself a few hours before. A big, blue and purplish bruise had formed already, taking up most of the space of your inner forearm. Ashamed, you averted your eyes. You should have just gotten him to help you. Then Black Mask lifted your arm to his face, as you felt the cold metal of his zipper press against the bruise. The pressure on it hurt, but it wasn't unbearable or truly painful in a way where you'd want it to stop. In actuality, the mock kiss made you feel warm inside. A small smile stole itself on your face.   You sighed as the warm leather of his mask gently pressed against your arm, as he turned his head to face you. "Will you promise me to get me the next time?" You could feel his jaw move against your arm as he talked, it tickled. "I promise," you whispered, in awe. He lowered your arm again and nudged his masked face against yours, the zipper pressing against your lips. You kissed it. Then again. And again. "I love you, Daddy. I'm really sorry about this whole mess, I didn't mean for any of this to happen." He sighed, "It's alright, sweetheart. I know you haven't done any of this on purpose." Then he let go of you entirely and bent down, picking up your sketchbook from the floor and looked it over. "You drew me," he stated, surprise clear in his voice. "Yeah, I needed to calm down after- well, you know. And I couldn't think of anything else to do, but sitting down and drawing." "And the best thing to draw was me as a child? Taking this horrendous portrait as reference no less. Although, you actually managed to make me look like a child." "Well, uh, I just thought I'd try myself on it, you know? Make it look less gloomy. Well. You. Not that I'd draw your fucking parents. They don't deserve it," you chuckled wryly by the end of it. "They really don't. It looks good, sweetheart. Will you finish it?" You looked at him in surprise, mouth a little slack. "I can try." "Good. I would like to hang it up, when you have." That surprised you even more. "Are you sure?" He just looked at you, and though his face - or rather, what was left of it - wasn't visible, you knew he was shooting you an incredulous look. "Right, okay. Sure, I will try my best, Roman!" "You always do, my boy." He gently placed the sketchbook back on the floor and put his arms around you once more. "Let's go for a walk then, eh? I feel like it might be good for you, after everything." Nodding, you smiled at him softly, leaning up to press another few kisses to the zipped up mouth of his mask. 

[kryzobi-wan]

Dancing in the Dark

"What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?"

---

Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey <3 Completely self-indulgent Reylo angst and fluff. Plus a little slow dancing 🥲

Read on AO3 | Read on FFN

Ben Solo had learned what it meant to be lonely. Growing up surrounded by droids instead of family taught a kid that particular lesson pretty quickly. Still, that aching longing for human connection never quite left him, even after so many years of immersing himself in the cool, unfeeling darkness in hopes that it would drown out that part of himself. He had everything he had ever wanted, he tried to convince himself. Power, control, strength… it should have been enough.

But that flicker of light—of warmth—within him that he never could quite get rid of felt like the piercing, burning bite of a lightsaber wound on his flesh. If the light was supposed to bring comfort and peace, then why did its presence hurt so much?

After his solitary childhood and early adulthood, it shouldn’t have been possible to feel any more lonely than he already did. Then she had come crashing into his life, entangling their respective destinies in a mess of unacceptable feelings and emotions, and leaving Kylo more unbalanced than he had ever been since joining the First Order. Her light had illuminated the truth of every crude approximation of connection Kylo had forged over the years in his chosen place of belonging. Where once the officers of the First Order, the Knights of Ren, even Hux, had provided some semblance of stability and companionship, he now saw them for what they were: hollow, resentful beings who couldn’t care less if he lived or if he died.

For a few brief moments he had thought that Rey might fill the gaping hole this realization left in the very depths of his soul. How naïve that had been. Now she had left him, scorned him, and he was truly on his own, with not even the sickening but constant presence of Snoke to keep him company.

Weeks passed. Hux had finally stopped reprimanding Kylo for his failure on Crait, and in fact hadn’t spoken to him in days, leaving him without even that sense of consistency. In the quiet isolation of his chambers, the weight of his father’s death at his hand finally settled firmly on his shoulders. With Snoke gone, his recollection of that fateful moment came with a different kind of clarity that was most unwelcome. This kind of introspection was dangerous, and he did his best not to entertain it. But he was weak. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to those peaceful moments in his childhood—as rare as they were—where for just one moment he thought his parents might really care, that he wasn’t truly alone. The ache of soured happiness came attached with those memories, now that he had been disillusioned from their lies.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he had once believed in the beauty of the galaxy. Ben—Kylo—remembered a time when the stars seemed brighter, the air more pure and refreshing. When he could feel the bubbling of joy and frivolity in his chest, giving him the sensation of weightlessness as he passed through life ignorant of how truly alone he was.

Oh, how he longed for that beauty.

He had always been drawn to such things. The artful strokes of calligraphy, flowing from the tip of his pen. The feeling of soft, green grass between his fingers, and the touch of cold, crisp water on his toes. The gentle lilt of music playing somewhere in the distance, the tune floating through his bedroom window as he closed his eyes in sleep.

What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?

There was no such thing. Kylo Ren could never be worthy of it. Every beautiful thing he touched met its end sooner or later. He was poison to it, so fundamentally contrary to everything it stood for that it could be corrupted by his mere presence.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Rey had closed their connection. Since that moment on Crait when she looked down on him in his defeat, he had only seen her a handful of times, and only long enough for her to scowl at him and shut him out.

So he was alone. As usual.

Wandering the halls of the new flagship star destroyer, Kylo was acutely aware of this fact. Some days were worse than others, but this was bad as it got. Something inside him was begging for someone—anyone—to see him. To remind him that he wasn’t just some ghostly apparition with no corporeal form.

Not a single passing trooper or officer acknowledged him.

Perhaps it was his own fault. After all, you can’t have both the fear of your subordinates and the good opinion of them. He had chosen what made sense for the leader of an army, and he refused to consider any other option. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He did what he had to do.

As it turns out, it’s lonely to be the one on top of the pyramid.

Kylo passed by a group of stormtroopers, his cape billowing behind him. They seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps one of them had received a promotion or passed a particularly difficult round of training. They patted each other on the back, excitedly chattering in low whispers about whatever it was that spurred this reaction. Despite the armor and helmets, he could see the camaraderie they shared. They were happy.

That was enough to trigger another episode.

They were coming more frequently now. It was different than his bursts of anger and violence, where he could reach some sort of catharsis by tearing apart his immediate surroundings with the slash of his fiery weapon. This kind of attack did quite the opposite, causing him to shut down completely, barely able to move or speak until he could manage to calm himself down to an acceptable level. His breathing quickened and he was forced to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

Kylo sucked in a deep breath as he willed the prickling of tears in his eyes to go away. He felt exposed without his mask. His traitorous expressive face betrayed every emotion that he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He couldn’t let his subordinates see this weakness, or he’d be ousted by a mutiny before the end of the day cycle. No, he had to get away before he went catatonic. Stumbling and suddenly dizzy, Kylo made his way toward his chambers. The lights on the walls and ceiling swirled in his vision like the flash of stars through hyperspace, and it was all he could do to remain upright as he burst into his quarters and shut the door behind him. Immediately upon entering, he ripped his cape and the outer layer of his tunic off, feeling suffocated by them. Removing his heavy boots, he focused on the chill of the cold durasteel floors seeping through his dark socks, connecting him to his surroundings.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned out the lights and collapsed onto the nearest chair, resting his head atop his knees, and clasping his hands behind his head as he tried his best to stop trembling. He allowed the quiet darkness to envelop him like a blanket, hiding the tears as they streamed from his eyes.

Whenever this happened, it felt as if the air around him was pressing inwards as it slowly crushed him. He needed something real, something physical to ground him. No matter how tightly he clutched at his own body, how much he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stem the flow of tears, it was not enough. The pain radiated outward from himself. It was as if he were a bomb threatening to explode at any moment, at which point he would cease to exist entirely. He could be floating in the lifeless vacuum of space for all that he felt. There was nothing to hold him together.

Completely and utterly alone.

He was well-practiced by now in self-treating these sudden attacks. It may take several minutes, but eventually he would be able to breathe out one last shuddering breath and still the shaking in his shoulders and knees. The floor stilled beneath him, and he no longer felt like his screams were trapped inside his body, begging to be let out.

All he felt in the wake of an episode like this, was numb.

He stared tiredly at the floor, now propping his head up on his hands as exhaustion flooded his body.

It was frustrating, feeling so out of control of one’s emotions. Despite the fact that his master was now dead and gone, he could still feel the disappointment he would have had in his apprentice. The words Snoke would have said echoed through his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. You are too unstable. The darkness will reject you. Your emotions cause you to fail. Everyone who ever claimed to care about you threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them.

Perhaps he had been projecting a little when he said those last words to Rey.

As if his thoughts had caused it, he suddenly felt the familiar shift in the Force that signaled the start of a connection. The rumbling sounds of his ship faded into a comfortable silence that was, for once, welcome in the aftermath of his anxiety attack.

He breathed out a sigh of relief before opening his bleary eyes and lifting his head slightly to peer about his room. She was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to stand to go look for her, Rey appeared in his doorway, looking irritated and disappointed as usual as her eyes settled on him. She promptly turned with a huff and disappeared from view as fast as she had come, though the connection remained open.

“Rey, wait,” Ben (because he was always Ben during these connections) called out to her before she could shut him out. He stood abruptly, rushing to stand in the doorway. She stilled, her back to him and apparently awaiting his next words before she decided to leave him anyway or not. “Please don’t go,” he hated how fragile the words sounded as they escaped his lips.

Rey let out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Panic began to rise in Ben’s stomach again as he felt Rey start to force the connection closed. “Stay! Please, just for a few more moments,” he said desperately. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He wanted to pretend just for a little while that he wasn’t alone. Once he regained his stability, she could leave if she wanted. He just needed someone for a few minutes to keep him from falling apart.

As if she could sense this, she turned to face him, setting her jaw firmly as she stared at him with caution behind her eyes. Relief flooded his veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out with one hand and clutched Rey’s arm, using it to keep himself upright. She didn’t move a muscle, though she stared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. He bowed his head, breathing deep, calming breaths in and out.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment.

Rey nodded once but said nothing. Her silence had become the usual ever since Crait, and as much as it pained him, he was grateful that this time she at least acknowledged his existence.

Once upon a time, she had told him he wasn’t alone. That had meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same things to her. He just wanted to feel like he did in that moment. When they had touched hands, he felt a flutter of happiness and a spark of hope that he never thought he’d feel again. He saw a flash of beauty, like something had peeled back the dark shroud that obscured his view of the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could be happy with her. That neither of them would ever have to be alone for the rest of their days.

Ben’s eyes flashed up to where his gloved hand met her skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a chill running up his spine. He lost himself in the feel of human contact, nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation after so long without it. Perhaps the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down was that layer of leather still between them.

Slowly, as if he were not even in control of his own movements, his other hand gingerly brushed against the same arm, inspecting the fresh scar there. His hands were trembling as they traced the contours of her arm, down, down, down to her hand where they stopped, cradling her fingers with the softest touch.

“Ben?” Rey finally spoke, breaking him out of his entranced state. He looked up to her, tears pooling in his eyes once more. His hand instinctively tightened around hers.

“Will you dance with me?”

His words were unexpected. There was something about being there, with her, that made him wish more than ever for the things of beauty in this galaxy. They seemed to have reached a temporary truce, considering the fact that Rey hadn’t ripped her hand away from his yet. He couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Rey asked incredulously. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Ben began to feel the tug of her hand against his, hesitating but wanting to let go.

“I just—” Ben stepped closer, patting her hand lightly with one of his and bowing his head again to look only at their hands rather than her face. He shook his head in disappointment with himself as it became clear that he didn’t have the words to articulate what he was trying to say.

I need you, he finished in his mind, but Rey seemed to hear it loud and clear. Her eyes softened, though a hint of hesitation remained.

“Okay.”

Ben’s gaze snapped back to hers, his mouth parted slightly in surprise that she had actually said yes. Something like nervousness or excitement fluttered in his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He nodded, speechless and blurry-eyed, and dropped her hand long enough only to remove his dark gloves, casting them carelessly on the floor. When he stepped into her space again, the corners of his trembling lips teased the smallest hint of a smile, which was reflected in his widened, somehow younger-looking eyes.

Slowly, in his disbelief that this was really happening, Ben scooped up each of her hands in his own, clutching them to his sweater-clad chest. There was no music, but the beating of their hearts seemed to be amplified in the space that stretched between them and their bond. It was the only sound they could hear, aside from the shaky breaths each was breathing in anticipation for this new closeness, this tender moment.

Rey moved one hand to Ben’s shoulder, allowing him to wrap his arm around her. His palm splayed across her back, reveling in the feeling of her textured taupe-colored wrappings on his fingertips. Electricity sparked where their hands met, and he saw it again. A vision of beauty. Togetherness. The rightness of it all.

He pulled her in close, resting his cheek against her silky brown hair and closing his eyes to soak in the peacefulness of the moment as they began to sway. Fresh tears trailed down his cheek, mingling with her hair. She hesitantly leaned her head into his chest and brought her hand up to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking it comfortingly. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, exactly why he had asked her to stay. Could she really see through him that easily? Or was the bond stronger than they thought? If so, what could that mean?

He knew who she was. She was a nobody, right? Then why did she feel like everything to him?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

They danced, in the calming darkness of the night. Peace washed over Ben Solo, evening his breathing to quiet, content breaths. There were so many things he wanted to say; confessions he needed to get off his chest, apologies, explanations… but nothing could get past the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with looking out the viewport behind Rey, taking in the majesty of the stars beyond. Long ago, he had lost the sense of wonder and awe he used to feel when immersed in the view of open space. The endless black expanse began to feel empty and cold. It reflected his own loneliness back at him.

How had he missed the numerous stars and planets that dotted the sky? They shone brightly, their warmth reminding him that there would always be life, hope, and a future—beyond.

Skywalker… Ben heard an unfamiliar voice, gravelly but laced with amusement. Still looking to the horizon…

The world around them had disappeared. The two swayed and twirled amidst the infinite vastness of space, and Ben felt weightless, like they were floating through the galaxy without a single worry or care. There was no Resistance, no First Order, no Jedi, and no Sith. There was only Rey, and the stars that illuminated her glistening eyes.

That same sense of awe, the hope and contentment of his boyhood innocence, filled his heart with every brush of her hand against his, every time their eyes met, the beating of her heart next to his own…

Rey pulled back a few inches, enough that she could tilt her head back to study his face. The hand he was holding in his dropped before she placed it on his other shoulder, her hands firmly but gently gripping them. If Ben were told that her touch was the one thing keeping him from shattering into a billion pieces, literallyholding him together, he would believe it without question. Her fingers tangled in the loose fabric of his thin sweater, rubbing soft circles over his skin. It was a comfort he was not used to, a balm for the crawling discomfort of starvation from human contact which he had felt for so long.

His eyes fluttered closed and he could scarcely breathe. They continued to sway as Ben moved his free hand up to Rey’s face, experimentally trailing his fingertips over her skin with a touch so light, she might not have even noticed had she not been so in tune with what he was feeling.

When he opened his eyes again, he observed her image through his lashes, unbothered by the sadness or pity she held for him in her eyes. He did not care what thoughts or emotions kept her here, he was just glad that she was.

In his exploration of the contours of her face, his hand brushed against a stray piece of her hair, drawing his intense focus away from her soft skin. He held it lightly between his thumb and forefinger in fascination and wonder, tousling it gently before following the path of her hair to the three buns at the back, which he threaded between his fingers.

Following his lead, Rey cupped a hand over his jaw, setting his nervous system ablaze. It was almost too much to handle. His head dipped forward until his forehead was practically touching hers, all the while they continued to sway. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, mere inches separating their lips from each other’s.

Before the situation could slip any further out of Ben’s control than it already had, Rey pulled back, her body stilling as she stared at him as if in study. His arms felt suddenly empty, but the sharp pain of loneliness from earlier had faded to a dull ache. He no longer felt like he was at risk of imploding, which was a relief to his tormented soul.

Eyes meeting hers, he silently conveyed his gratefulness for what she had done, finding words to be insufficient. He worked his jaw absentmindedly as his gaze flicked over her features, trying to gauge what she might be thinking in that beautiful mind of hers.

Without warning, she rushed forward and enveloped him in her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. The embrace was as short as it was sudden, but it was like heaven coming down to him. He had barely managed to reciprocate the action before she released him and stepped back, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Her voice came back in little more than a whisper, and he thought he saw a tear escape from the corner of her eye. “I understand,” was all she said, her jaw firmly set in that look of determination that Ben was so used to seeing.

And maybe she did.

Of all the people in the universe, Rey would know the heartache of loneliness better than anyone. All those years alone, waiting for the return of those who could never come back… Maybe she needed this as much as he did.

Rey stared intently into his eyes, and it felt like she was able to see directly into his soul. She nodded, perhaps in answer to his line of thinking. Perhaps it was just a gesture to reassure Ben that everything would be okay. Either way, he felt a part of himself melt away under the influence of her light, leaving him with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever felt.

With that, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, disappearing without consequence.

Ben breathed out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, stumbling backwards to his couch to think. The ghost of her touch on his skin remained, and it brought him a lasting comfort.

He should have felt scared, or worried, that his mortal enemy knew his vulnerabilities and sorrows so intimately, but he wasn’t. He had shared with her a moment of beauty and of happiness, and something about it told him it would be a significant turning point in the story of the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he could have sworn that he felt her gentle touch on his forehead, brushing through his dark wavy hair in comforting strokes. Tender words of encouragement graced his ears, and whether they were real or imagined, he took them to heart.

He dreamed.

Of the cool, still waters of a lake.

The light of the moon reflecting on its glassy surface.

The velvety blackness of the night sky,

Decorated with the pinpricks of diamonds glittering from above.

And the mountains,

Standing strong and steadfast in the distance,

A friendly shadow on the horizon.

He dreamed.

The woman in his arms,

Illuminating the world around her,

Her light shining like the sun,

Her smile a warm glow that nurtured his soul.

And he danced.

-.-.-

Comments greatly appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed! Much love, Reylos <3

[gingus-doon]

pov u just shot your childhood hero, wdyd

i.e. i ramble about keiji post-shooting; his occupation, what he does, how he copes, how he feels, etc. etc.

just putting this little thing here because the post got quite long and i couldn't split it up because it's all somewhat related. it started out as a rant / informal ramble but then it got serious lololol

—

one thing i don't understand is why people hc keiji as still having a job with the police post-shooting? like that just doesn't make sense to me– not only based on his character but like... why would you wanna make him a cop with all the talk of how much the police suck lately? personally i'm a brown bitch so i couldn't be down with thirsting over a cop lol. it's just kinda confusing sjdhd

i've seen the hc of him as a private investigator, though, which i like! it's a very neat way to let him flex his detective skills without being part of a corrupt organization and without forsaking his own personal beliefs and feelings about the police, because i don't think those would change anywhere near easily and i just kinda can't see him going back into the police force because of that.

i have often wondered what keiji would do after the death game, and what he was doing before the death game or after the shooting, because i think he'd definitely quit after the shooting, with all the grief and trauma surrounding the job and his newfound cynicism.

i don't think he'd be doing private investigation before the game, or more specifically, before his character develops into something reminiscent of his old self– as he is at the start of the game, he just doesn't have that faith in protection, so i can't imagine him being an investigator at that point. HOWEVER, in a post death game OR non-death game au where keiji has started to pull himself up from that tar (most likely with the help of others lol) i think that's definitely a plausible option for him and i like it a lot :]

as for other options, though... i really don't know! this is more of a stupid idea but i considered him working in a convenience store like shin lol. i had a whoooole au about him, kai, and shin working in the same convenience store just because they can't hold down any other jobs / don't know what else to do for work. shin is able to actually hold down the job because the last manager was mysteriously taken out of commission (i don't know lol) and they were ridiculously short-staffed already so shin ended up being the "most qualified" for the now vacant position. keiji's had a string of odd jobs since the police and this is just the next one. he's hoping to find something with a better wage but this'll do for now, it's even in walking distance from his apartment. and kai, kai's trying to exercise more independence from the chidouins' after becoming his own person! so he gets what i think would be his first job (well, his first official job, anyway... being an assassin and the chidouins' personal maid were more unofficial gigs lol.) ahh that was a lotta rambling about my dumb little au but i just think it'd be neat, they're three of my favourite characters so having them just vibe with each other at work and become friends sounds nice 2 me :] also Coincidentally i ship literally every combination of those three characters so that may have played a part in my casting decisions lmfao

oh wow that was a really long and uncalled for synopsis but this is just a rambly post so it can't really be uncalled for because this post doesn't have any particular point lol (A/N after writing this— IT HAS A POINT NOW, DISREGARD PAST ME)

SO ANYWAY ! i was just considering what keiji would do right after the shooting. honestly i have noooo idea, it's the beginning of a long road of him burying his trauma in a desperate attempt to avoid facing the pain it brings, and it marks a profound loss of innocence which makes his heart begin to grow cold. it's just hard to see the beginning of the process when where he started and where he ended up are very different places.

obviously, he'd quit his job. i wonder if the hallucinations would start right away? him being naïve in the beginning, i'm sure he'd acknowledge them– cry out apologies and plead for forgiveness until his throat is hoarse. the rule of hallucinations in yttd seems to be that if you acknowledge them, they'll burn themselves into your brain and you'll never be rid of them– implying that keiji has done so, as it's likely been years since the shooting and he's still suffering from the visions despite seeming to ignore them now.

ahh, i'm getting in my feelings about keiji now 😭😭 when i started this, i wanted to be held by him, but now i just wanna hug him like damnnnn

but back to what he'd do after the shooting– this scenario is self indulgent, but wouldn't it be nice if he took some time off and just stayed at his mom's place for a while? help her with chores while she's at work, try to regain a sense of normalcy in his childhood home...

i don't think he'd be able to do this right after the shooting. keiji had shame, once upon a time– the guilt would rack him like nothing else. i can imagine him spending a lot of late nights with alcohol, just wishing it was a dream. his resentment towards megumi slowly building as he feels he's being left in the dark as to why, why he isn't allowed to atone, why she's being so cold towards him about the shooting when he's suffering so heavily from the effects of it.

he wouldn't want to be around his dear mom as a murderer, and as a resentful alcoholic who's coping very poorly with his circumstances.

also (tangent incoming), i kind of wonder about keiji and alcohol a lot. in his fondness events with mishima, he says the following—

the "haven't drank that much in years" part makes me wonder– for how long? did he start to restrain himself before the shooting or after? i would say it's most likely after, considering the "feels like it'll swallow me up" comment he made soon after. and, how he talked about binge drinking when he was still a newbie. perhaps it was fine for him to do so, before the shooting— he'd just get wasted and flirt, have a good time. but after, it morphed into an inefficient coping mechanism which he fell far within the depths of to try and control the worst of his grief and self hatred. after that, heavy drinking couldn't just be for fun anymore.

i assume in the "before it got this way" comment, the "way" he's referring to is how he doesn't drink much anymore? or, he could be talking about the depression drinking, but i think the prior makes more sense.

even though i think, given keiji's example of drinking with megumi, that he could have gotten blackout drunk a couple of times purely for fun pre-shooting, i think here he's referring to the painful side of his relationship with alcohol here, the part that took place when he was trying to cope with his trauma. i think he brings up the story of drinking with megumi immediately after, then, to avoid talking about that part of his past. though he doesn't show it much, i think he's deeply ashamed of himself. not only of what he's done, but how he's handled it afterwards.

on a lighter note, though, it's quite funny to think of Lawful Good young keiji shinogi getting drunk off his ass and flirting with every woman he comes across willing to flirt back. like, what's up with that??? he seems like such a serious dork in the flashbacks, but doing well in his police job, he just... lets loose?? no no, honestly i think he hadn't drank much before going out with megumi and he took her insistence on him drinking a little too far, and with his inexperience with alcohol and the successive lack of self restraint that comes with each new drink, you get casanova shinogi, lmao.

BACK TO THE SERIOUS STUFF THOUGH !! i really like the idea of him going to his mom to help him pull himself back together. i think they'd have a solid relationship, fight me! he seems to adore his mom as a child with a good single parent usually does. i'm sure he appreciates her immensely for all the care and love she managed to give him when he was a kid while also working her ass off to support them financially. this very respect for her is what i think would drive him to isolate himself from her after the shooting– as i said above, he's a murderer now. a disappointing human being in general, and an even worse son. to let down his mother who worked so hard to raise him right... how could he? as his condition worsens and his heart grows colder, i'm sure that feeling would fester inside of him. he'd try to ignore it, as he does with everything else, but it's already wrapped its tendrils around his soul. that particular guilt isn't leaving him any time soon.

now that i'm thinking about it, also, i don't think it's likely that he'd quit his job right right away. it'd be more of a slow descent over the span of a few weeks. immediately after the shooting, he may stop showing up to work for a while. he just can't put on that uniform when it's practically caked in the blood of someone he held in such high esteem for so long. eventually, though, he gets a hold on himself– just a bit. he doesn't want to be cooped up in his apartment with his thoughts anymore, and he doesn't want to lose his job. what else would he do?

so, he takes it easy on the first few days back. megumi tries to make it easy for him. paperwork, whatever job he could do that's not on the field. he clings to her like a wounded puppy, hoping that she'll explain why she's covering it up when he doesn't want her to, what he's supposed to do with these feelings around the incident. he's drowning, and she's made herself a big sister figure to him– she's supposed to help him. but, she shrugs him off when he brings it up. she's so harsh about it compared to how she usually speaks to him. perhaps because of her own guilt around the incident, perhaps it's the family's response and how keiji is now, how panicked and sleep deprived the poor kid has looked since that day.

so he continues to spiral with nothing to hold on to. grasps at alcohol in a futile attempt to stop falling, because it's all he can think to fall back on. he's a wreck at work– he's barely living, much less working. but megumi tries her best to keep him from getting fired. she'll get him coffee and breakfast and try to say something encouraging. "hey. hang in there, shinogi." with a touch on the shoulder. but in spite of her efforts, of course, it hits a breaking point. everyone in the job thinks keiji's too damaged to continue, saying he either needs to see a shrink or get the hell out of the way and let everyone else do their job.

and keiji just stops coming into work one day.

the downward spiral ensues.

[wavesmp3]

directors cut: oasis

[doing this entirely for myself, out of pure self indulgence lol] [this will be very messy/poorly organized and there will be spoilers]

okay so where to even begin omg..... we will start with the origins of oasis:

its actually, techinically a spin off of the world from this drabble with dino from svt. which the world in this drabble is what the world from oasis would look like very far in the future. but i changed a lot between writing that drabble and creating oasis. but there should be a scene in the drabble that is very similar to a part in oasis (hint: the first vision they got from saskila was not just a random vision with no meaning.......hehe)

but that drabble (its titled dreamscapes) was inspired by a mix of this post on tumblr about how nuclear waste warning signs sounded very cool and the book that i was reading called the children of blood and bone by tomi adeyemi

and then after i had made that drabble i saw dee’s (@/atbzkingdom’s) post about the time capsule collab, and i had a couple ideas of what i could do for it but i ultimately decided on what would eventually become oasis !! so i guess we really have dee and that collab to thank for this piece lol

now for the timeline of me writing:

so i started outlining this piece in the first couple days of january, and normally outlines take me a while to come up with just because i struggle in coming up with plot, but i knew that my spring semester of classes would be starting soon and that I didn’t have a lot of time so i just sort of grinded an outline out as well several paragraphs of pure worldbuilding. 

and then i started writing

and wow i was Really writing!! at my peak productivity i was easily getting down like 2k a day which for me is insane (for reference, i wrote 1k a day for tsiytt and i struggled my way through that) 

but then life happens classes had begun and my writing for oasis slowly become nothing... 

i really only found the time to work on the piece every other weekend, so i was really nervous that i wouldn’t finish in time (which technically i didn’t cause it was supposed to come out march 1st) but luckily i did

and at some point in february, i had lost so much of my momentum and motivation for this piece that i almost gave up on it. (at this point i was writing the scenes after they find the seat of wisdom destroyed) but again luckily i did not, but i personally can definitely see a decline in the quality of my writing towards the end (i mean maybe its in my head, but its sort of like i can see the loss of love for the wip in my writing at the end of it)

but don’t misunderstand, i still love oasis!! and in all honesty, i’m already considering starting a second draft to it, which is way sooner than i thought i would lol

also when i started writing this piece, i began writing it in the order that it would be read, but then halfway i switched to writing chronologically

anyways, something i learned while writing this piece, is that writing is a marathon. whereas, even with my longer pieces, i always viewed writing as a sprint. so as i start venturing into original works and more lengthy pieces of writing, i think this was a very valuable lesson for me to have learned.

okay now to the good stuff lol: [the first word of the bullet about the next chapter (?) is bolded for some crumbs of an organized commentary]

so this is jumping to the first past bit... but when i first wrote farah i had a very different plan for her character than who she ended up being. i had imagined that she’d be a lot more cold and a tough love sort of person. so that’s who i was writing when she’s first introduced in the flashback, but she very quickly become a much kinder full of love sort of person. but anyways i mention this because whenever i read that first part and the introduction of her character, i’m always a bit taken aback by how like mean here character is to crown then lol

also zoar !!!! its a terrible place, but i love that underground city

i also wrote the first flashback after i had written the scene where crown and chanhee are talking at his place in andhor, so the whole “fearless” connection was done very purposefully here since i knew how it’d be referenced in the next scene. someone mentioned this small connection in their reblog but i cant remember who 

also rashi is my favorite character xD

i personally think how crown and chanhee became friends (the running thing) is so cute 

this first bit of conversation between crown and chanhee when it switches back to the present and chanhee is giving them a tour of andhor is actually quite important to me, in the sense that its the first glimpse of how their actual relationship works and how they act together and just like their dynamic despite the fact that they havent seen each other in so long 

and yeah i think kyu mentioned this and a few others, but i love how awkward it is when chanhee and crown are in his home in andhor, cause one: they havent seen each other in years! but also: anyone else find going to someone’s place for the first time oddly intimate, like wow you’re opening up your home to me and now suddenly idk how to sit or stand or what to do with my arms... maybe just me LMAO

DUDE i struggled so hard with making it so that chanhee knew how impossible this whole mission was going to be without actually revealing that he knows about the mirror. it was so hard for me, hopefully it came out alright though. if anyone is reading this, did the twist(s) come as a shock to you? did you see it coming? or did it feel like it came out of absolutely no where and not in a good way?

yes i did name the desert after the department store kohls .....

i was so excited to explain all the mage types, i had so much fun writing this whole chapter 

fun fact: there was originally another sub group of psyche mages called dream mages who had like powers with dreams and stuff, but it ended up being irrelevant and really underdeveloped so it took it out

if anyone else was raised catholic or is catholic then i’d hope you recognize the names of all the relics.... i stole them from a prayer in the rosary whoops

it took me very long time to figure out exactly how the whole soul for the relic business would work, and idk if im a 100% satisfied with what it is/how it works/how it plays into rashi giving chanhee the locket

the note new gives crown.... the first slice of their friendship blooming, bro i eat that shit up 

this part where crown and rashi are talking after the lesson is actually one of my favorites. (like i said i love rashi, but i just really love her interreacting with crown, i think they have such an interesting dynamic and one that i’ve seen irl a lot between students and teachers, where the student adores the teacher... i’ll get more into this later) but moving on, i like it for a number of reasons. one: it’s the first time we as readers get to see rashi talk outside of her role as lesson master. two: i love crown getting this validation from rashi. it’s not really expanded on a lot, but crown’s magic is definitely a bit of an insecurity for them, in the way that they don’t feel like it belongs to them. but here rashi comes, this person that crown looks up to so much, and telling crown that they’re a bit similar when it comes to having magic. and surprising crown by comforting them. and... idk i just really love this moment for crown.

okay this line: “You call your mom Rashi?” is a lowkey reference to game plan,, if anyone knows what i’m talking about then please come clown me for nearly having the entire movie memorized 

oh, i also find the capital really cool. in my head the capital was always one huge building that contains an entire city but i realized while editing that i never really explained that, so idk if i successfully described the capital as cool as it is to me 

also the five friends part.....CUTE

when chanhee says “i know. i remember.” !!! girl i felt that line with my entire chest. idk why

okay wait this part: “But that knowledge seems to fall flat right now. Because despite everything, curiosity won the war.” i love it so much, its that tiny of sliver of hope that gets me personally

i think this part where crown’s pride is so hurt by no one telling them about chanhee’s healing magic is quite important because its a glimpse of how stubborn and prideful and headstrong of a character they can be 

also this : “ ‘and do you believe everything rashi says’ / without hesitation, you answer, ‘yes, of course’ “ this is another example of how highly crown thinks of rashi while growing up, almost to a fault. to the point where crown thought rashi could do no wrong. which i think is so interesting to think about when contrasted with the fight crown and chanhee have in the jungle where crown is the one discussing how rashi was wrong. i just like how much growth crown has had between all these years. and their opinion / perspective on rashi is one of the largest indicators of that growth. 

I also just really like that paragraph where shadow vs healing is explained... I think chanhee’s magic is so sick

oh also the names thing.... I can’t remember where I got the idea to do that from but im so glad I did. its one of my favorite aspects to this world, and it looks like a lot of other people enjoyed it as well. but apart from the intimacy of it, i love how the use of names affects one’s magic. and that paragraph where they go through all that a mage could do with a name. it gives me chills. just cause.... the possibilities

so many people have mentioned this line.... but I must too, so this part: “magic always comes with a price. this is new’s” ..... crazy

saskila scares me omg

again the first vision they see is not a random scene.... the easter eggs I planted with that mwahaha

yeah that scene where they’re outside the tent discussing who should give their name to saskila..... I love that scene chanhee’s “I don’t have anyone but you” and crown deflecting all that tension with the pinky promise and the saskila calling them lovers.... mwah

this random scene about the hot summer and laying with Farah and new in the gardens is another one of my favorite, it’s just so sweet

but this next scene makes me so sad

like I know what happens and I know that everything turns out okay but I get so scared for crown

yeah just that entire part after Rashi gets to them and when they’re going to the infirmary and before crown passes out... I love that whole part. i think i did an effective job of writing the gravity of that whole moment. cause it makes me a little stunned every time I read it. and I was pretty nervous about not being able to do that scene and that moment justice so I’m glad it turned out like it did

and again this line: magic always comes with a price, and in your case, it comes with several.

okay this part after they jump out of the ship and crown is talking to Chanhee but that other dude is talking too... I hope it’s not too confusing. I really wanted to show through the writing that this was all happening at the same time, but idk it came out well. like in my mind I have such a clear picture of this scene, but I have no clue if I did effective job of showing you guys what I’m seeing through the writing

oh yeah, crowns thing about dual wielding and engulfing the blades in flames.... I find that so cool. they’re so sick for that

yeah also the part where crowns hurt and they give Chanhee their name and they use it.... great moment, but I feel like my writing is a bit lacking here. i just know it could be better.

I think at this point of writing my classes had started, and again the disparity in writing quality is so obvious to me 

but the line where chanhee is describing how it all feels, and it says “chanhee feels golden” was inspired by daylight by taylor swift, theres a line in that song that goes “i used to think love would be burning red, but its golden” and like hello the parallels between that and crown’s fire magic.... something to think about 

so this next part where it’s back to the past and crown is getting in trouble (as crown does) but the part where crown is like asking but not directly asking for rashi’s name.... that part is so crazy to me cause it’s feels so out of place. but it was purposeful. i was trying to show that crown’s growing and that they’re at this weird age where they feel invincible. and also i wanted to put more emphasis on how being royal and the heir to the throne kind of effects the relationships crown has

and the last line of this part when rashi says “never abuse it” it gives me chills whew

the next part ... another part that i had high hopes for in the outlining stages of writing, but when it came to actually writing, this scene totally flopped, i’m gonna try not to dwell on this part too much cause i just know most of my comments will be about how much i don’t like it. but just overall, this scene could have been SO MUCH BETTER !

omg this little interaction: ““Look!” Chanhee deadpans, shooting you a glare. “The match is about to begin.” / “Wish me luck.” /  “I hope you lose.”” i think its so funny and cute

“ Your eyes immediately got to Rashi “ another example of how highly crown regards rashi 

“In Wurltan.” hmmmmmm sus.... *laughs in i love mentioning things that won’t make sense to reader until later*

okay this: “Yes, but not just any mage. I…” your voice trails off, pulling at your fingers and looking anywhere but at him. “I wanted you to know.” i cannot stand these two omg 

okay this part: “Chanhee thinks and overthinks the words spoken between you both. His mind drifts off to last night as well, that moment in the tent where you shared your warmth. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring at you until you give him a funny look. He quickly looks away and wonders if you’re overthinking everything as relentlessly as he is.” this part makes me think about what ina said about how chanhee shows his love by keeping you in his thoughts and YEAH chanhee’s love language in this piece is thinking about you and staring LOL

i hate this next part, not cause i don’t like it or anything it just makes me sad 

but this line: “Like if someone shoved you from behind right now, you wouldn’t push back; you’d let yourself fall straight to the ground.” i actually love that line

also this next entire bit i see SO clearly in mind, i hope i wrote it well enough so that you all saw it clearly too

when chanhee wipes the dirt.... girl i’m wiping my tears 

this line : “We’ll lean on each other.” mini love declaration sighhhhhh

yeah that whole part i love so much 

the seat of wisdom :(((( no!!!!!

so about this line: “He stares at his palms, at all the lies buried under each nail and at all the secrets shoved in every crack. He watches as they all blow up in front of his face.” >> i had like ten different versions of it before i settled on this one lol

okay so the first part of the last past flashback with crown realizing their true feelings... so soft 

news gone, rashis’s dead, :((( it makes me so sad

gosh okay this paragraph..... “I’ve always wondered why the gods blessed me and you the way that they have. They entrusted you with such great power. The only person to be both a healing and shadow mage in centuries. And then,” a tear falls from her eye, “they entrusted you to me.” Chanhee thinks this might be the first time he’s seen Rashi cry. “But now I have reason to believe that this was no accident. I’m beginning to think that the gods have always known it would come to this. And I’m starting,” she falters there, “I’m starting to spite them for it.”  it hurts so bad im sorry 

the first confrontation with harlan took me so long to write, and i’m still not sure if i actually like it, so again i will refrain from commenting lol

but the part where crown screams : “YOU LOST THE MIRROR OF JUSTICE!”  I think i told kyu this but this line makes me laugh because in my head its said the same way bella says: “you nicknamed my daughter after the lochness monster” whenever i see that line i smile lol

honestly this argument scene..... one of my absolute faves,,, everything lina said about it in that reblog just yes!yes!yes!! i can’t even comment about a particular part because all of it i love so much. its another part that leaves me slightly speechless.

but my favorite part of it might be how it ends hehe

these next couple parts were a bit diffucult to write because obviously the air between crown and chanhee is not very light right now so it was just hard to navigate their dynamic at these moments until they apologize but hopefully it turned out alright

i really like this line: “But this moment—with the scent of Harlan’s wine under his nose and the chill of Harlan’s blade against his neck—this moment feels nothing like those. It feels empty.” 

“ Chanhee just stares at you.“ -- staring as a love language exhibit b 

this whole part... chills bro 

“Chanhee exhales because for the first time since this afternoon he looks at your face and sees you.” -- exhibit c ....

okay wait another one of my favorite parts here: the spilled glass metaphor!! again please reference lina’s rb on this because everything said there... could not have said better myself. inspired by this writing advice by ocean vuong and yeah i just think the metaphor speaks for itself, one of my favorite lines (well paragraph) from the entire piece, actually from ALL of my works 

it was so hard to think up all of yumi’s different names, i was struggling

them talking about how farah will be happy to see chanhee...... how do i break it to you crown.....she’s dead...... awkward

red streak q! yesss. also i’m so sorry for killing off farah 

also kyunyu bestiessss

tbh this whole paragraph: “I get this overwhelming burst of honesty. As if what you both speak of is more than just a simple truth, as if it’s a commandant you blindly follow. What’s even odder is that I only feel that burst when you speak of each other.” Q stops walking and turns so that he faces Chanhee directly. “You speak of Crown constantly. And last night, when I met Crown, your title never left from the tip of their tongue. Humans are so simple really. We mention what we love.” Q pauses for a moment, bringing a hand under his chin. “Do you love Crown?” --i wrote it for myself no regrets

oh wait this bit too : “Quietly, Chanhee says, “I know.” / “Have you been watching?” / “I’ve been waiting.” / “For what?” / He meets your eyes. “For you.”” -- sometimes i do things that live rent free in my own mind

okay im so sorry for just quoting myself but this too : “ He sits back slightly. Shocked. Not by his love for you, but rather by how easily love walked into his heart and settled between his lungs “

lol the part where they try fooling q... why are crown and chanhee like this

the running !!!

yeah also every part after that... tears okay

yumi’s magic !!! its so cool to me, i love it so much 

i surprisingly don’t have much to say about the end... i mean i like it, but i just don’t have any comments. the last line tho... good one shawna

okay im done for you sake i hope no one read this lmao 

[a-heart-in-spades]

a heart in spades (2)

Pairing : Cayde-6 x Female Human OC Guardian  Rating : M (eventually explicit) 18+ only, Minors do not interact! Word count : 1057 Warnings : Angst, Slow-burn, Canon typical violence, Heavy language, Romance A/N : This is purely self-indulgent, not beta read, with minor editing/drafting. 

Ao3 || Previous Chapter 

 ❝We really should get moving.❞ The soft mechanical whir of Spectre's shell was the only sound outside of his voice that filled the cave. ❝Ayla, it's time to wake up. The storm has finally passed.❞ Swinging down, he bumped his shell against the side of her cheek, deftly avoiding her arm as she swatted at him. ❝Ayla!❞ His disapproving demeanor was enough to force her into sitting up. 

❝I'm up, I'm up.❞ Grunting, Ayla looked around, seeing the light from the cave entrance as it seeped around the corner she was tucked behind. ❝Storm passed; what about the Cabal?❞ She'd been on the run for months now, or had it finally hit the year mark? She wasn't sure. After three months, she'd stopped counting and let time lose its meaning. 

❝They've moved on, for now.❞ Spectre floated around her shoulders, giving her a quick scan as she snatched up her helmet. 

❝Good, that means we can go.❞ Ayla huffed as she pulled on her helm and latched it into place. ❝How far until we reach that ship?❞ After running from one planet to the other, she was desperate for transportation off Venus and back to Earth. 

❝We're less than a day's travel away.❞ In a puff of smoky light, Spectre vanished into her pack, hiding himself away from any danger they might stumble upon. ❝Its signal is there but very weak. We might have to make some repairs. I do hope there are enough spare parts lying around.❞ 

❝Yeah...me too.❞ Standing at the entrance of the cave, Ayla looked over their surroundings. There were fresh pools on the ground, yellow in color and acrid in scent. Around them, in the slush that was the dirt, were tracks made by the Cabal patrol party that had been on her tail for weeks. It never failed, that when she took one group down, another took its place. Cut one head off, and four more take its place. ❝Still no comm link to the tower?❞ She was hopeful that the tower still stood, but since her light had been ripped from her, she'd been unable to hail anyone. Even once her light came back, it was nothing but radio silence. 

❝I've been trying; I even started to scan other frequencies but nothing. It's like once we got cut off, everything changed.❞ Ayla bit the inside of her cheek at Spectre's words. Still nothing. No one was answering, not even Sundance. God, what she would do to hear her voice again, to hear Cayde. Was he even looking for her? Was anybody looking for her, or did they all assume she was dead, body rotting somewhere, lost in the solar system? The lump that grew in her throat was suffocating as her gut twisted. ❝Ayla?❞ Spectre had cued into her discomfort. 

❝I'm okay. Just gotta get moving.❞ The longer she stayed in one place, the more likely it was that the headhunter Cabal group would circle back and find her. ❝Ping the location of that ship to my hud. Keep it up, but minuscule.❞ Seeing a small marker appear in her vision, Ayla pulled out her hand cannon, fingers wrapping tightly around the grip. ❝Keep your scanners up and listen for Cabal radio chatter.❞ Peeking out of the cave a little further, Ayla made sure the coast was clear before breaking into a sprint toward the marker her Ghost had set.

❝Always.❞ Spectre hummed, keeping an open comm in case he picked up on any radio signals near them. ❝I know you said we shouldn't because of the Cabal tracking us. But maybe I should start pinging our location out into the network? What's the harm? The Cabal keep finding us anyway. Perhaps this way, we can grab someone's attention.❞ 

Ayla huffed as she finished mantling a ledge. She hated to admit it, but Spectre was right. Keeping comms tight had done nothing for them so far. The Cabal were still on her tail, even now, despite all the precautions they had taken. ❝Do it. Keep it short-ranged for now, though.❞ If they didn't try something, and the ship they were nearing wasn't capable of space travel, then she would end up as nothing more than grime under the boots of her pursuers. 

❝Got it.❞ As her Ghost fell silent, Ayla pushed onward, keeping as close to the shadows and under as much cover as she was allowed. One wrong step, and she'd have the Cabal coming down on her in a heartbeat. But she was so tired, of running, of hiding. Sure, she had her light back and could fight against the Cabal, but everything was different. What used to be her blink was no longer there. There was no more blade dancing, and instead, it was a staff that she had no idea what to do with. Thankfully, she was still capable of calling on the void for her bow and smoke grenades. But even those felt different. So, running was the best option for survival, something she loathed to do but needed to out of necessity. 

❝We're getting close.❞ Spectre's voice had her nearly jumping out of her skin, body coming alive with void energy as she prepared to pull out her bow. ❝I'm sorry!❞ She could feel him shrink in on himself through his words, understanding that he had spoken too loudly, too abruptly. In the time she had been on the run, Ayla had gone from a confident woman to a skittish girl on the constant run. 

❝It's okay.❞ Ayla pushed herself faster, toward the ship, after recovering. Shoving her gun into its holster, she slid to a stop by the ship's door, gloved hands pressing against the metal. ❝It's not in bad shape, looks-wise, at least. Do a deep scan. See what you can find out.❞ Spectre popped up and over her shoulder as she spoke, flitting about around the ship as he scanned it for any internal damage.

❝It can fly, but it needs a few panels fixed before we can take it off the planet. That should be an easy fix.❞ Spectre returned to her, shell rotating with excitement. 

Hell, they might actually make it home.

[multifacetecl-archive]

@hereticlord​ has reported :  💋     —     FOUR TIMES MY MUSE THOUGHT ABOUT KISSING YOURS AND THE ONE TIME THEY ACTUALLY DID .     /    OPEN .

001 .

“I’m mad at you,” Apple said with a small huff, eyes narrowing at him as fingers worked on wrapping the bandages around his injured arm. They were sitting in the grass, or rather, he was while she sat on a fallen tree to give her a slight height advantage to make her work easier. “That was careless, and stupid, and just because—” A deflated sigh escaped her then, knowing she was wasting her breath; he won’t change. This will be part of his life. And she didn’t want him to change. She just worried. A lot. It was simply in her nature to do so.

He teases her, as he often does, and Apple finds it is hard to stay mad at him. No, she didn’t want him to change. Never. She accepted him, every part of him, even the parts that make her twist with anxiety. “Come here,” she chides, hands catching his face and tilting his head up to face her. Her eyes scan his features, gauging the damages done; a small bruise against his cheek, something she can easily tend to. A few cuts here and there, but they’re not too bad.

Her eyes fall on the split of his lip, and she tutted her tongue. Except, her eyes linger longer than she intended to, and she felt her cheeks burn red when he catches her.

“Try to go a few days before I see you as a patient again, will you?” She said, pushing him away playfully. 

002.

Apple absolutely loathes unnecessary violence, which was what made their relationship — whatever it was — rather ironic. While she lived a pacifist lifestyle, to the best of her ability anyways, he had chaos and the urge for battle coursing through his veins; she can’t figure out if it was simply because he loved the adrenaline, or if it was something deeper than that. But she kept her comments to herself, unless it was violence done in her name.

Though, admittedly, Childe had plenty of reasons to worry — how many treasure hunter camps has she walked into, throwing herself in danger, for the act of healing. Knowing that they can just as easily hurt her as easily as she trusted them.

“Childe, I can’t breathe,” Apple protests, arms held out at her side before fingers moved to his shoulders and she shoved gently at him. He was holding her so tight, it was almost as if he was afraid. The idea of anyone worrying about her well being was beyond her, which was so hard to believe, given how beloved the traveling doctor was to most. But she comes from a place where . . . People hated her for the reasons the people of Liyue adored her. And it was the opinions of home that leaves her damaged.

He finally releases her, ruffles her hair, and she pulls back and looks up at him. Heart hammering in her chest, she smiled at him, catching his hand and holding it to her chest. “Let’s get out of here, okay?” 

003.

She never forgot the way Childe held her that day at the domain. The color of his aura when he found her, bound, amongst a bunch of hoarders despite her pure intentions of helping them. That was simply in her nature, it was her legacy. Her dying right. The history of her people has taught her that she was nothing but fodder to the Gods. A being meant to sacrifice themselves to the beasts that once terrorized Teyvat and bring peace to their slumbers so the people of the world can have one less catastrophe to behold.

Bone Witches were made with despair, revenge, and self-sacrifice. She was made by the woes of her fallen sisters, centuries in the past, to uphold their heavy burden once more. Sometimes she dreams of a woman from centuries ago, crying over her, pitying her poor great granddaughter whom she tried to save from her same fate.

Apple never learned the meaning of self-preservation until that day. It never, ever, ever occurred to her that she was seen as someone cherished and precious. Cared for enough that they would cling to her in such a way. Sure, anyone else would have saved her, but it was a matter of morals, not affection.

Pacifistic ideations aside, there’s a small sense of pride at the look of shock that comes from the archer. Electro sparks and hops off of her blade, the hirichurl that had charged at her sent flying into the cliffside. She will fight, rather than accept her fate. Rather than fear and wonder if she will one day meet Death like she has not been tempting him and silently hoping to be relieved from her responsibilities.

She had forgotten the rush of adrenaline when her metal sings with every strike of sword. When they’re done, the electro swordswoman practically throws herself at him. “Did you see me? Bet you never thought I can do that, huh?” She sing-songed, arms wrapped around his neck. She pulls back, and their faces are inches apart. 

She’s forgotten what it looks like to have someone proud of her.

004.

“Did . . . Did you see . .. ?” 

Apple’s voice wavered, and it was clear that she was fighting back the tears that threatened to pool in her coppery gaze. Her back was turned to him, shoulders stiff and raised as if she was trying to recoil into herself, like a turtle in its shell. It was a stupid question, of course he did. Why else would he be here? Have followed her? Most people here were good at minding their own business, even when something like that happens for everyone to see.

“Stay away from him, you — you monster! I thought we saw the last of you! You’ll curse us, you should have joined your sisters!” The words spoken from the woman from her home village stung more than the slap across her cheek and the soreness of her back from when she was shoved into the moat of water. She had thought the little, lost boy she was helping looked familiar. She could tell by his clothes that he was of Inazuma origins, but she didn’t think that he was the grandson of one of the elders of her village that had, almost literally, chased her out of her own home.

Not that would have stopped her. Knowing it’d end up like this, she would never leave a boy to wander by himself through Liyue harbors, with its maze like design.

Turning to face Childe, the sight before him was absolutely heart breaking. Her lips were curved in their usual smile, still filled with warmth and care and love. But she was crying. Tears flowed from her eyes, even though they were clenched shut in a desperate attempt to keep them in.

“Please tell me you didn’t see. You didn’t hear.  I don’t want —” . . . I don’t want you to hate me, too.

Apple remembers sobbing then, as he pulls her in silently. She’s grateful he doesn’t comment on the show that was so graciously provided to the citizens of Liyue. Just offers her the comfort she needed to hear, and was too afraid to ask for. When she calmed down enough and he offered to treat her out to help lift her spirits, all she wanted to do was kiss him.

Even if she meant something to him, and not in the way he did to her, it was all she could think about the rest of the night. But the many sweets she indulged on was enough. 

005.

To say that Apple knew no fear would be the farthest thing from the truth. She knew fear. It was not in the form of her own well-being, though that was something she was starting to work on. But it was in the form of the well-being of others. The people she cared about. Deeply. She knew fear in the form of failure. In the form of abandonment. One would think that, someone who was as pure - hearted as she was, would harbor a hatred for those who were meant for darkness—willingly or not. One would think that she would side herself with the good, and yet, here she was. 

The chaos and havoc is thick in the air, it was almost  nauseating to someone who was so sensitive to auras and the dark. She picks her way through the masses of bodies, hands clutched to her chest, as her eyes scan the corpses around her, steps hasty and almost timid.

Apple is no stranger to the dead. But if there was something she feared: it was this draw she seemed to have to them. Her vision glows, and her hand rises to cover it, clenching it tight in her grasp. “Don’t—” she whispers to herself, mouth dry. Dark magic churns in the pits of her stomach, calling out to the bodies around her.

Bone Witch, the souls of the dead call out for her, and she does her best not to answer. All it would take to raise an army of the dead is to raise her finger in the air and a rune for its namesake to be drawn in the air. The Foul Legacy had left her an army to her disposal, if she so wished.

“There you are . . .” Came a breath of relief when she finally catches up to Childe. Though . . . She wasn’t sure if that is who she should call him. She is unbothered and equally unfazed by the gore that stains his skin, or the inhuman glow of his hypnotic gaze.

It’s voice is almost hypnotic as It speaks at her. Speaks her name in a voice that was both Childe’s but not at the same time. Like an echo in a cave, the voices fill her brain. “Do you hate me too?” It seems to ask, mocking her with the words she was afraid to speak that night in Liyue. 

She surprises It with a small laugh, hand moving to stifle the sound with the bend of her knuckle. It’s a little funny to her, and she knows she shouldn’t laugh. Her hating him . . . Would make her just as bad as her people. Who hated her for something she could not control. Apple understands now, why she has this draw to him. Felt a likeness she has never felt with anyone else before.

There’s more confidence in her steps as she approaches, though a small falter of slight annoyance that size is, as always, an obstacle. But, she makes do and stops before It. Fingers find the fabric of their scarf, and she pulls them down. The kiss is rather gentle for something filled with havoc and blood, and when she pulls way from It, copper on her tongue, her eyes locks with Its purple.

“Never,” she answers it, soft and sweet. She can never come to hate him, no matter what side of him stands before her. 

[neonlaynes]

fic + writer appreciation post !!

 @ritahaeworth is /everything!!!/ any time she uploads/updates? the speed at which I drop everything to read her fic is incomprehensible. her work is evocative, raw, rips out your heart and I adore every second of it. lipgallagher on ao3.

@flippyspoon //The Buddy System 

I remember reading this back when I got into Harringrove in Feb 2018, Billy and Nancy friendship combo is something I never knew I needed but they are absolutely savage and a Menace!! love that for them. flippy is fantastic at serving up that sweet sweet fluff with a dash of angst!

@tracy7307 // Take Me with U

another fluff master; they go CAMPING!! tracy captures the tentative first few steps before a relationship so well for steve and billy; that slow burn is so rewarding!! imagining them under the stars, gazing into each others’ eyes...how blissful!

@granpappy-winchester // cherry 

full disclosure I do and I Will love everything sara does ... be it art or fic. cherry brings forth such a lovely imagery of a soft billy getting in touch with who he is and who he wants to be, and as always the interactions between him and steve are delightfully bantering!!

Little Beast by retoxification // the first few chapters broke my heart with how they wrote the tenuous relationship blossoming between steve and billy after how much billy hurt steve, and how billy navigates his guilt. lots of tender, raw moments.

@twobrokenwyngs // the only thing constant

the quintessential fic of “show, don’t tell”. they weave enough of an image of what billy and steve were like -- and leave just enough holes for you to fill in the gap, to wonder about their past. it’s what keeps you on the edge of your seat and waiting with bated breath. billy’s pining is so palpable, I just want that boy to be happy!!

@yolo-contendre​ // east of eden (and going west)

childhood friends AU.......and billy forever pining.......my god. it’s unhealthy af for him to be so over the moon on steve and dependent on him that he’s self-sabotaging in order to gain a scrap of steve’s attention....but I live for it. I’m anxious as to what will happen!! 

@pretendimstraight // i haven’t forgotten you yet

looks like I have an inclination for “lost love regained” relationships......ugh!! steve admitting billy was the best thing to ever happen to him ... billy’s rightful indignation at steve’s departure, them reconciling!! the dialogue is so well written!!

 @eternalgoldfish // tides will bring me back to you

I should Not spoil anything so basically: ghost billy. the interactions between characters and the characterization of everyone is just pure joy! so excited to see this fic update in my inbox, and I’m holding onto the hope that...it’ll all work out in the end. 

Yourself or Someone Like You (aka Steve and Billy are In Love) series by halfempty // currently 700k of slow, simmering tender love. I am so amazed at their dedication and the fact that when they update it’s usually 10k+ a chapter? so it’s always a treat to get comfortable and savor their writing!! I promise this series is well worth your time.

@highon85 // Kill me with your smile

this was so so sweet!! always love the secret admirer leaving gifts trope, and v did such a lovely job with billy’s pining -- my favorite kind of billy!! also, of course if you’re more comfortable with it -- I would LOVE to see more of your art too, your work is exquisite!!

@hoppnhorn​ + @the-copperkid // if you don’t like the company, let’s just do it you and me 

🔥🔥🔥 what a combo, what a duo. billy’s gross pining + steve indulging the man - chef’s kiss. both authors also have stellar portfolios of solo works, so please check them out!! some personal favs: rachel with her motogp AU, and the-copperkid with a modern missed connections AU!

@brawlite +  @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger // Wicked Game(s)

another dynamic duo!! I LOVE it when ABO tropes are subverted!! as always, they excel in crafting such a heady and sensual air whenever billy and steve interact in any capacity beyond being just friends. some personal favs: lane with and plenty of seeds in a lemon where billy pretends to be steve’s weed dealer and cass with Under the Covers which is Basically a classic now? and also there’s nothing wrong with me (loving you, baby) , which I only NOW discovered?? coworkers steve and billy is just so good!!

come on (you stranger, you legend, you martyr) and shine by buckyjbarnnes

post-s3 tender goodness -- billy’s got some powers! you feel as if you’re a present bystander during scenes - you can feel the train of thought running through both billy and steve’s heads -- and isn’t that something!

@hexlikesramennoodles // This Jelly

super hot and heavy, mysteriously attractive man turns up and is Practically a neighbor with how often he’s there for work anyway, and gradual falling in love? sign me up!! I also have to thank hex for the imagery of billy covered in beautiful tattoos as well...what a vision!!

@ihni // we stan a multitalented star...what can moa NOT do?? fic, art(both realistic/stylized/cartoon), poetry, sewing....wowow!! check out her art here and her writing here ; you can feel the love she puts into all her work!!

truly, this fandom has been so wonderful to share in!! there’s a plethora of amazing fics and writers that I simply cannot fit all my thoughts into one post -- I appreciate every single one of you. happy fic writer appreciation day!!

[umthisisawkward]

Happy Valentine’s Day, Sinners!

This is just a small part of a larger project I’ve been working on, featuring pure Jacob/Female Deputy fluff. This was mostly done out of self-indulgence when I was having an extremely rough day. 

Title: He Won’t Hurt You

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: T 

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse and coping with past abuse.

He came back to the cabin after a brutal day with the hope that dinner would be ready. It was her day off anyway, and she’d said it was her turn to make dinner, so that’s what he expected. She’d mentioned chili, and as he walked into the small cabin they shared, he didn’t smell anything cooking. A frown creased his face as he glanced around, wondering where she was. Nothing in the kitchen indicated that she’d even gone in there all day. His stomach rumbled as he rested his sniper rifle against the wall, shrugged off his Army jacket and untied his boots. As he stood up, the frown came back. She usually greeted him when he came home. Their cabin had two rooms and the main living area, so she always heard the door creak open on its hinges and meandered out to give him a kiss and a smile. 

“Liv?” he called. 

Had she gone out? Her truck was still parked out front, and there weren't any tracks in the mud that implied she’d gone for a drive. He made his way to the first room, which she used as her writing space, and peered inside. Nothing. Hell, that room looked untouched, too. Everything was the same as it had been in the morning, including the dirty coffee mug that she’d used a few days ago. On her days off, she usually picked up that room because if it got too cluttered, she couldn’t focus.

His heart pounded against his chest as he made his way to the second room, their bedroom. If she wasn't there, he’d have to call his brothers to keep an eye out for her, because it would mean something was wrong. He almost held his breath as he pushed the door open, worried he’d find a perfectly made bed and no Olivia in there at all. But as the door moved out of his vision, he was greeted with a lump in the covers and heard a sniffle from under it.

Shit. 

“Hey,” he said softly as he came over to the bed and sat on his side. 

He touched the lump and heard another sniffle, but didn’t push her to pull the covers down from her face or move closer to him at all. On days like these, he knew that did absolutely no good. So he rested his hand on what he figured was her hip and waited in silence for her to speak up or make any sort of noise that he could interpret to figure out what was wrong. He’d noticed she was a little out of it the past couple days, but she hadn’t had a bad day in months. 

When he got nothing from the lump of covers, he sighed and rubbed his hand up and down gently. “Do you wanna talk about it? Or should I leave you alone for a bit?”

“I didn’t make dinner.” Her voice was so soft that he was shocked he even heard it at all. 

“That’s fine, honey. Don’t worry about that.”

“I didn’t do anything today.” 

Her voice cracked, and he could tell she was about to start sobbing again. He stood, stripped off his shirt and his jeans before he got under his side of the bed. She stayed with her back turned to him, still clad in just the underwear she’d slept in the night before, and he ghosted his fingers over her back. Up and down, up and down, from neck to right above her lower back, occasionally reaching over and around her shoulder. She let out a shaky sigh and he continued, sensing that it was helping her. 

“I’m so sorry, I don’t...I just…”

“Shhh. You don’t need to explain it.”

She turned towards him finally and he saw her puffy red eyes and wet cheeks. “I had a nightmare last night.”

“Shit. You know you can wake me up when that happens, right?” 

His large hand stroked her wet cheeks, and she leaned into the touch with a sigh. It was always her favorite thing, his touch. It could bring her back down to Earth no matter where her mind had gone. 

“I know. I know. I just...it’s so stupid.”

“Was it about him again?”

She could only nod in response and his heart broke. Shit, he wished he could help her. He wanted to pull any and all memory of that prick from her brain so she no longer had to feel these things, or deal with the trauma the guy had instilled in her. He also wanted to break the fucker’s nose, but that was his own way of coping with her pain. 

“I just...I’m so afraid he’s going to find me.”

“He won’t. He’s never going to touch you ever again, honey. I fucking promise that.” 

She whimpered and he pulled her to his chest, desperate to hold her tight and make her feel safe and sound. She sighed against his neck and he placed a kiss on her head. 

“I just kept remembering things today. Things that...I don’t know, I’d forgotten them. And they made me so...fucking angry and sad and just...like this one time, I spent hours putting together a picnic for us, and all he did the whole time was complain. I didn’t bring the right wine, I didn’t cook the deviled eggs enough...and I just...why did I let him hurt me for so long, Jacob? Why?” 

Jacob pressed another kiss to her head. “You got out and you’re safe now. You were strong and you are strong and having bad days is okay.” 

It wasn’t a side that anyone else ever saw - only his brothers knew about Jacob’s protectiveness, the way he would act as a shield against the world when the people he loved needed it the most. For the longest time, he never showed it to someone outside of John and Joseph, afraid that any woman who was with him would see it as a weakness. But the first night he’d spent with Olivia, the first time she saw the violent ways in which his nightmares took over his mind, she hadn’t run away or even flinched. He woke up, she calmed him down with kisses peppered along his face and her fingers dancing over his skin - they didn’t avoid the burns and scars like other women he’d known did, if anything, her fingers worshiped those parts a little more because those were the parts of him that showed his journey to hell and back. 

That night, just a month into casually seeing each other, Liv stayed up with him and listened to him talk about the nightmare. About how he used to take all the beatings for his brothers. Even the story about how he ate Miller in the desert when he was starving. She hadn’t been afraid, she hadn’t gone quiet and then left the next morning. She accepted him, all of him. Even the darkest parts of him that he wished he could cut away with a knife, she took in her hands and kissed and loved.

The man (or boy, in Jacob’s mind. Because anyone who did something like this to the woman he claimed to love was no man in his eyes) who did this to her raised his hand only once, but it didn’t make up for the years and years of manipulation that he put her through, and the fact that he expected her to have sex with him no matter what she was feeling. Thankfully, Olivia’s father had some sense and helped her leave the situation, and called up his old friends from his youth in Hope County. Earl Whitehorse agreed to look after her, and she packed up and moved from New York to Montana, where she knew no one, to be a Junior Deputy with the Sheriff’s Department. 

Since then, Olivia had been instrumental in installing a peace between the Project and the people of Hope County. Joseph listened to her, valued her advice. She even got along with John, which was hard for anyone to do really aside from a few select people. She was good friends with Faith, and had helped her through a lot of her own issues that Jacob didn’t even know about. He loved her for the peacekeeper she was, and he thought she was the strongest goddamn person he’d ever met.

Her memory was shot as the result of repression and her depression, and sometimes she had nightmares that would bring back all the memories her brain had forgotten in order to protect itself. Those were days like this one, where she would feel so many things all at once and Jacob would come home and find her huddled up in bed, or crying in the shower, or sitting on their porch with a cup of tea and her favorite blanket. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“For what? Having emotions?”

“I didn’t make dinner.”

“I can make it.”

She let out a little laugh, which caused Jacob to frown. “Yeah, after that mac n’ cheese I think you should take some time away from the kitchen.”

He laughed, too. Her laughter was infectious and he pulled her closer to him, peppering kisses all over her face and arms and anything that he could reach as they laughed together, under the covers, and he wrapped himself around her as if he could keep all the bad thoughts away and protect her forever.

She got up and made some spaghetti after a little while, despite his insistence that she didn’t need to do anything like that. He had some meat that he could grill, but she wrinkled her nose at the idea of elk for a fourth night in a row, so she made an easier dinner and they sat together on the couch and watched TV. He cleaned up the kitchen for her, despite her insistence that she could do it. 

When he came back to the couch, he extended his arm so she could cuddle up to his side and she smiled up at him from her spot on his chest. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Jacob smiled and kissed her forehead.

[bookshelfpassageway]

Hello yes I would like the full rundown on It's A Wonderful Life a la Eugene Riverworth (I once helped my DM spec out alignment-reversed versions of our entire party, alt universe characters are near and dear to my heart)

ALRIGHT SO IT'S CATASTROPHIC AMOUNTS OF CONTEXT TIME

Sorry I took so long, I've just spent most of my week trying not to turn into a puddle of goo. I accidentally listened to Mr Blue Sky today, however, and the last verse sucker-punched me into finishing this.

...At some point, I'm going to take my google doc of garbage notes with no filter and turn them into a coherent campaign recap to hand out to people. But for now, here's this definitely-more-than-a-snippet-snippet.

Alright so, to start with, we have an NPC friend named Rothwin. He's a goth wood-elf wizard with a deep, deep set guilt complex about how many people he's known that have died. His mother, due to a dragon attack, and he recently discovered, his little sister, due to the mafia said dragon runs. His twin brother was recently thralled by Mind Flayers, and we've been trying to track him down. He also had a particular bond (I don't have all the details, but he gave him an enchanted knife and a letter) with our halfling assassin, Tasher, who was disintegrated back at lv 8 by a possessed Eugene. He let the possession happen on purpose, to try to get the upper hand in a fight with our warlock's patron, but the thing he gave himself over to was not at all inclined to give Eugene's body back. This chain of events also led to the kidnapping of Rothwin's brother. There's a reason we call him the "trashwizard".

Anyway, Rothwin. Rothwin is the hero child that wants to fix everything. Guilt complex from here to the moon. He's also a slightly higher level wizard than us, a lv 14 party, and he's recently spent a LOT of time scribing studiously in his spellbook. Because Eugene is a nosy little man, he actually got a glimpse at the spell he was working on: Wish.

So, the night after Rothwin's brother is captured, we hang around and try to comfort him. He seems oddly alright, and tells us that he thinks things will be looking up, soon.

When we awake, the world is different, none of us know any of the others, we remember nothing of the world before, and Rothwin has erased the dragon that tore his family apart, over 200 years ago. In the process, the circumstances did not arise where Tasher died.

The original Eugene left home at 17 to seek his fortune, and, finding that to be a very hard task, gradually lowered his standards over the course of a decade until he became the glitzy mountebank in the pointy hat we all know and love.

This new Eugene never had that chance to be a con man. If he did swindle, it would have only been a brief stint of the minor, hunger-induced infractions of the very beginning of his career. He had a pretty similar childhood and departure. Instead, he was recruited by this universe's much more prosperous version of the Mage's Guild (run by Rothwin's mother), an agent of whom saw some element of talent in him. So for the past ten years, he's made his name as an Illusionist of mild note, a full wizard rather than a rogue multiclass, and slowly moving up the Guild's ranks. He'd just been promoted, even. He's Neutral-Good-aligned, as opposed to the original True Neutral, and though his base traits remain the same (including: sociable, vain, ambitious, indulgent, a bit foolish), they're dialed up to different degrees. This Eugene is a genuinely sweet person, in a slightly fussy and oblivious kind of way, and actually allows himself to get attached to people. Which happens easily, and strongly. He hasn't had any need to shut that part of himself down. He has a Simulacrum named Snowy, and understands what birds are (running joke in the campaign, his familiar is exactly one pint of screech owl and summoning medium-sized birds has never been successful).

Eugene's youngest sister, in the original timeline, was a warlock of the Raven Queen. She quickly began having visions of the way fate was originally supposed to play out, and together they were able to research what might have happened and start to contact the old partymembers. Everyone arrived, and started getting flashbacks of the events of the campaign. We fought some old enemies who were defeated in the original world, including the devil that set off so much catastrophe, and a mad wizard who here had managed to imprison the guy who can fix this.

We managed to short out this wizard's magical abilities with a Counterspell, triggering the source of his stolen power to take over his body to see what the hell was going on. The Whispered One, known more commonly (though not in this campaign. His name is a pricey secret after all) as Vecna. We met him once in the original timeline too, he's how Rothwin found out his sister was dead, and was responsible for the warlockifying of an artificer. (it was almost the original Eugene, but the depressed cat got in there first, also, selfishly, a warlock multiclass would have screwed over his spell slot situation too much)

Between people starting to get flashbacks (flashsidewayses?), logical deductions, and a free trial of information from the Whispered One, we realize IC what's happened and what we'd be going back to, and how to set things back to exactly square one.

Everyone gets... Maybe a little too into the RP at this point. There's a lot of philosophy and metaphysics. There's also a lot of upset when we realize who doesn't survive the original course of fate. We try to figure out if it's possible to put it back the same but just a little different, and realize that someone is here with the power to do so, but the Whispered One is not going to budge unless we give him a secret as payment. Changing fate to save a life (possibly more), would likely require a more costly secret than average. Also, we as players aren't just going to shortchange VECNA. We like being alive (Sure we will piss off the Raven Queen, but that's fine, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it). Also dramatic gestures are more narratively satisfying. Eugene's mental state is a fascinating concoction of self-loathing, existential dread, cunning bastard, hero wannabe, "hey I've known this party longer than anyone except my family and former business partner" + "I will admit I care about people". Some solutions are proposed, the Dragonborn Paladin has a book from her backstory, the Assassin has god secrets...

And Eugene, filled with guilt and distaste for tragedy and fondness for Tasher and a complicated infatuation towards Rothwin and all the trappings of a moral person, realizing for absolute certainty that all that he's become, worked for, and hoped for in this life, MUST be overwritten by someone he can't stand, and knows won't be able to stand him... Suggests that what is more secret than a life that could have been, and never could have been, lived? His own existence could not only amount to something, but actually be preserved in some capacity in the Whispered One's library.

This is immediately, though with some surprise, accepted by the Whispered One. "In all my years and years, I've never had a whole person a secret before..." A portal into a dark room with pinpoints of green light inside opens, and all he has to do is step through, and Rothwin will be given the power to re-cast Wish to bend the world back to the way it was-... While having fixed that which can be fixed. There's a bit of devolving back into Philosophy here, people trying to stop him or suggest simpler secrets, but knowing this might lead anywhere except causing more stress and the risk of him chickening out, Eugene steps through the portal.

Cassie, who had been watching him intently since the deal was proposed, gives the world's smallest "...wait" at the exact moment it's too late. Rothwin is given a green glowing rune, and casts Wish again.

The party wakes up right where they left off before all this happened, with no memory of what transpired. Eugene seems no worse for wear, and has gone back to accidentally persecuting the local introverts. Tasher washes up on the beach where we scattered his ashes, remembering only the other world and feeling a compulsion to seek out the place where we might be going next, and the devil we fought... Is present on the material plane again, somewhere.

So yeah. The man can’t go one timeline without yeeting himself headfirst into shady eldritch nonsense in a bid to find a Third Option. But this time having fixed the problems he created by all the previous times he’s done it. RIP good!Eugene, you were too pure to exist without the universe breaking. This is absolutely going to come back to bite me in the ass and I have no idea how my DM will have it do so.

[mystery-moose]

BIG OL’ WIP LIST

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on.

I got tagged by @philosoverted, who has been wonderfully supportive of all her friends’ writing even when it’s for fandoms she isn’t even a part of. Because she’s fantastic.

I’m going to be kind of vague with some of these, though, because I like to preserve some semblance of surprise for anyone who happens to be following me for writing!

I’d put them behind a cut but apparently tumblr hates readmores right now? So instead I’ll just apologize for this long post that’s about to break your dash please i’m sorry it’s not my fault tumblr sucks eggs

AMatMMP

This is the direct sequel to Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V. It is very long, not the longest thing I’ve ever written (yet) but certainly the longest thing I’ll have finished when it’s finally done. It’s also very complicated, because I like mysteries and plots and hate myself. I especially hate what I’ve done by setting it so close after the first one because it means I can’t write anything else with these characters until I’ve finished this.

But I swear to you and God and whoever is listening: this summer it’s happening.

Shelter

Think of everything I’ve ever written. Thematically and emotionally. Now, multiply it by a thousand and make it even more self-indulgent. You should have some idea of what Shelter is. It’s not plot-heavy (thank christ) and it doesn’t have any action or adventure. But it is everything I’ve connected with over the past year and a half, made into a single super-specific-to-me thing that stretches into a hazy future that I might never actually finish. But the fun thing is I don’t have to finish it, necessarily; I just want to write enough to get to the One Big Moment, the thing I’ve been thinking about since, oh, a year ago. That’ll act as enough of a catharsis that I can feel good about posting it, if I never end up finishing the rest.

Basically this is the epitome of me being Back On My Bullshit. I adore it. Someday soon, I hope to start posting it. Probably after AMatMMP, though.

Money and Fame (working title)

A few months ago I came up with a little adventure for Taako and Kravitz to go on. I really liked it at the time, but I waffled on writing it because I felt like... well, it involves Sazed, and I thought I might be being too charitable to him? But I haven’t been able to get a couple scenes of it out of my head, so it’s almost certainly getting written at some point. But it’ll likely be a much shorter, more focused thing than my usual plot-heavy junk. No flashbacks in this one, I don’t think!

The Lucretia Longfic (title TBD)

I got a bee in my bonnet last summer (thanks to @epersonae and her posse) and wrote, like, twenty thousand words of a Lucretia thing. I’ve since realized that it is Bad, and needs so, so much more time than I was giving it. It’ll happen at some point, I’m sure -- I like Lucretia too much to never finish it -- but it’s... she’s probably the best character with the strongest arc in the entirety of TAZ, and she deserves the best I’ve got, and my best so rarely feels like enough for her.

Candlenights

This is set after AMatMMP, so it’s getting finished after AMatMMP. It’s a meet-the-fam fic, with almost zero conflict whatsoever, but I’ve since realized it needs a different third act and I haven’t figured out how to end the damn thing. I’ve got a few thousand words for it already, but as soothing as I find writing it, this might not get finished for a while.

Fighting Words

This was gonna be a simple little series of one-shots for each of the THB (and maybe the IPRE) just gettin’ into some scraps. It’s still going to be that thing, but it’s just been set aside for a long time in favor of, uh, every other project I’ve got going. I’ll get back to it when I feel like posting something in short order, I’m sure.

The Great Taako-Burnsides Fight (title TBD)

I wrote a whole outline for a thing where Taako gets into a fight with Magnus about Lucretia, and then Magnus literally throws him out of his house and Taako feels really bad about it for like a week and Magnus fumes for a bit and then there’s a big ol’ forced sit-down with Lucretia and it’s yet another vision of mine for how Taako and Lucretia could ever, like, be okay again. It’s like the third version of this idea that I’ve plotted out (the Lucretia Longfic and Bygones being the other two) because apparently I’m just really into semi-forgiveness, as a concept. The funny thing? I’ve kind of settled on one that’s my personal “canon” for how it happens, and the other two are just AUs. I don’t normally do that! Normally when I establish a personal “canon” that’s all I write. TAZ has been really weird for me, in a lot of ways.

Anyway, it might get written at some point? It’s not super long, in the outline I’ve got. But there’s so many other things above it at this point, I think it’ll only happen soon if I get a real hankerin’ for it.

Cycle 95

This is a semi-follow up to Cycle 71, but it’s a different thing. The gang ends up on a planet where the Light is being held by a farming town terrorized by raiders, and have been bullied by them for generations. They have to help them fight the bandits to get the Light. (Taako is frustrated and suggests just taking it by force, but the townsfolk make it clear they would die fighting.) They end up training the townsfolk over the course of a year, defeat the bandits, and save the town. Their victory is an inspiration to surrounding communities, who create their own bands of protectors clad in red, and long after the IPRE has left, their legacy remains in the peace they create.

So this is straight up some Seven Samurai bullshit, because why not? The twist is that the town elder is something of a prophet, and as the IPRE train the townsfolk, he has a solitary moment with each of the seven in which he gives them advice that foreshadows what they’ll go through on Abeir-Toril. It’s not a lot, certainly nothing that changes how anything goes down, but I enjoy the cutesy foreshadowing and reassurance of who each character has developed into. (The only person who doesn’t get one is Taako. He avoids the elder like the plague. He gets his own moment, to himself.)

I will almost assuredly write this someday. Probably soon. It’s just so much fun to me. And it won’t be that long, either! Comparable to Cycle 71, I’d imagine. As with anything in the Stolen Century, I’d want to keep it short. There’s just too much room to lose yourself in that arc, any single year could be a hundred thousand words, and I just refuse to fall into that hole.

AMatItCJ (working title)

This is the “Angus at Neverwinter University solves a mystery with the help of his college buddies/Persona-style Investigation Team” and it is VERY loosely plotted but will almost certainly be VERY long and TOO complicated and I REFUSE to write it, do you hear me, I REFUSE.

(I’ve got character outlines and a basic plot and a few flashbacks and a final parlor scene and that’s basically it. I’ve actually thought about collaborating with someone on it, but I’m afraid I’d be too much of a control freak about it. This one might never happen.)

TaakoQuest (title TBD)

Kravitz is taken by a demonic entity anathema to the Raven Queen and is trapped inside a plane where no celestial entity or emissary can venture, purely to taunt her. Lup and Barry are helpless. Every other member of the IPRE and the founding Bureau is long dead. The Raven Queen asks Taako to do it. So he does.

This one literally came to me in the car ride home tonight, when I was thinking about Luster and how much I enjoyed the Taako-as-scientist scenes in that fic. I might write down some bits and pieces for it right now. It won’t be long. Maybe won’t even be multi-chapter. It’s just yet another exercise in showing Taako caring for other people through action, and in which he gets to act like a total baller.

I have very few settings, apparently.

This’ll almost certainly get written at some point, but maybe not soon. I’ve still got school stuff to do, but I like the bits I’ve thought of enough that I’ll almost certainly inflict them on you all at some point. But don’t worry, it won’t be nearly as emotionally harrowing as Luster. I can be cruel, but not THAT cruel.

THE ULTIMATE MOST SELF-INDULGENT GARBAGE EVER WRITTEN

I love Pyre.

I love schmoopy, slow-burn romance.

I will probably finish this someday.

I will never post it.

THAT’S IT

I’m almost certainly forgetting one or two, but I’m pretty sure that this is all I’ve got percolating in my head and WIP folder right now.

I’m sorry it’s so long, and I’m extra sorry I’m so bad at writing things regularly.

But I’m not sorry I don’t post things until they’re finished. I learn from my mistakes. I will never leave my readers hanging again!!

oh i guess i have to tag some people huh

uhhhhhhh @orchidcactus @fistfulofgammarays @anonymousalchemist @marywhal aaaaaaaand @emi--rose

TELL ME YOUR SECRETSSSS

[longingfreesia]

mizakai.docx aka “mizael got kicked out and doesnt know what to do with himself now so he goes to kaitos house and kaito is not exactly happy about this”

its not technically “complete” but im pretty much done with it so here it is anyway! its almost 3k words of pure self indulgence

It's around six o'clock in the evening when Mizael comes to pay Kaito an impromptu visit.

If, of course, you can count banging on someones door and yelling their name a "visit," but Kaito was used to "weirdos" at this point.

It's at about the third yell of "KAITO TENJO!" with an addition of "ARE YOU NOT HOME? THIS IS YOUR PLACE OF RESIDENCE, RIGHT? ARE YOU IGNORING ME?" that Kaito finally gets up and goes to the door, albeit groaning lowly the entire way.

He opens the door and Mizael nearly hits him in the face with a fist intended for his door. "Why. Why are you here."

Mizael scoffs. "Don't I have a right to be?"

"No. Not at all." Kaito says, deadpan.

"Well," Mizael starts, and in a rather uncharacteristic fashion stumbles looking for words, as if he was expecting Kaito to go, 'Yes, of course, Mizael, I'm so honored you would come and visit me in my humble abode, graceful and angelic in your beauty as you are,' and eventually settles on "I'm here now, anyway, and you're not about to just dump me out on the street after I came all the way here, are you?"

Kaito contemplates telling him yes, he was, and shutting the door, but decides against it. "Fine." He steps aside and opens the door a bit further, and Mizael immediately strides inside.

It dawns on Kaito that he's not really wearing much. Or, rather, he's not wearing anything particularly heavy. Did a skintight tank and stirrups count as much?

Not that it mattered, as Mizael, being Mizael, didn't seem to notice in the slightest. Instead, he looks around for a moment, and is somewhat confused when there isn't somewhere for him to sit in his immediate vision.

"Is this what it's like here?" He asks, and Kaito is just so, so tired.

"Yes, it is. You're looking at it. That's a ridiculous question." Kaito replies. Mizael looks offended at even the implication that he could've said something "ridiculous," but Kaito continues before he can say anything.

"And if you're trying to say something about my living conditions, I don't care. I wasn't expecting you." It wasn't like it was awful, just a bit messy, what you would call "lived-in." But of course Mizael would find that preposterous, unacceptable, etcetera etcetera.

Mizael turns his nose up at him and finds his way to Kaitos couch, sitting down in it and crossing his legs with an entitled air. Kaito settles down across from him in an old armchair and sighs.

"So, why are you here, really?" He asks.

Mizael simply says, "Do I need a reason to come see you?" and it's so transparent it hurts.

"Did you get kicked out?"

Mizael is taken aback. "Wh- No! Of course not! I just, they-" He takes a slow breath, "I was told, 'Mizael, you need to find a place of your own. You can't live here forever.' As if they know anything, they let Durbe stay there all he wants, what does he do? He's a freeloader! He-" Kaito holds up a hand. Part of him is amazed Mizael hasn't caught on to what was going on at the Kamishiro household, but he leaves it alone.

"So you came to me. You were told you needed to take care of yourself, and you came to me." Kaito can practically feel his exhaustion growing.

"I-" Mizael tries, fails, "I didn't know what else to do."

At least he was honest about that part. Kaito doesn't want to let Mizael stay, not really. However, his slumped shoulders and the mere fact that Mizael is so unable to function on his own makes him feel kinda bad for the guy.

Also, he's not too bad to look at, but telling him that probably wouldn't help.

Kaito hums, stands up. "Alright. You can stay here a while. Don't get too greedy though, I expect you to earn your keep while you're here." He almost laughs at how quickly Mizaels face goes from glee to despair.

"Earn my keep… how exactly?" Mizael asks, the apprehension in his voice obvious from how carefully he picks through his words.

"Not much. Just run errands for us, maybe." Kaito thinks on it a bit more, considers how capable Mizael would be of walking into a grocery store and buying things on a list on his own, and says, "I'd help, sometimes. You just have to try, alright?"

Mizael stares at him for a moment, thinking it through, then nods.

Things are quiet for a while after that, as Kaito starts preparing tea in the kitchen.

Mizael finds that it's not a bad quiet. The subtle sounds of Kaito moving around the kitchen, and the low whine of the kettle is pleasing. He even finds himself becoming somewhat drowsy. He can't really help it.

Suddenly, something occurs to him, and he asks, "Where's Haruto?"

Kaito glances up at him, then back down at his hands. "He's taking a nap. I'm surprised you didn't scare him awake with your racket." Mizael has the decency to look a little guilty.

Not enough to say sorry though, apparently. And not enough to not be incredibly nosy.

"You like tea? I never took you as the type." Mizael asks. Kaito doesn't want to think about the implications of that.

"I don't, really. I prefer coffee. You seem like 'the type,' though. So." Kaito pours out the kettle.

"Then why do you have it?"

Kaito shrugs. "Droite and Haruto like it, too."

The small clicks of porcelain setting on the counter stop after a time, and Kaito brings a dish back to the table between them with two cups on it.

Mizael feels almost flattered.

Mizael is surprised somewhat at how nice they are. They're rather pretty, in fact, and he tells Kaito this, but he doesn’t seem to care. He tries the tea itself, and the warmth and surprising sweetness of it is comforting. He can taste honey in it. How odd.

Kaito doesn't seem interested in talking, rather, seeming quite content in just leaning back with his eyes closed and his cup between his hands. Mizael suddenly feels very uncomfortable. It stays like that for a long while.

Kaito eventually gets up to go and wake up Haruto for dinner, and Mizael takes this as an opportunity to look around.

It's not a terribly fancy place. It's decent enough and nothing more, and somehow, that makes it feel like a home. Mizael finds that's an odd feeling, feeling like he's in a home, but doesn't pay it too much mind.

Kaito doesn't come back for a long time. He supposes it's because he's explaining to Haruto that Mizael will be living with them for a while. Which brings up a sort of terrifying idea, just how long is he going to be here-

"Mizael." Kaito says, and Mizaels head snaps up to look at him. "This would be the first time you've properly met Haruto, wouldn't it?" Mizael thinks on it, and nods.

"Well. Haruto, you probably remember Mizael, right? I know some… complications happened before, but he's," Mizael can tell he's struggling to come up with a word, but he quickly recovers, "a friend of mine, now. In any case, you two have to get used to each other." He smiles a bit, a soft expression that is almost unnerving to Mizael in the sheer unfamiliarity of it. "Although, I know Mizael is a real handful sometimes." Mizael wants to protest, but Haruto giggles at the statement and something in his heart flutters. Maybe not this time.

He stands up from his seat, trying his best to maintain an approachable face. He's told sometimes he has a resting expression that looks kind of scary. It would be bad, probably, if he scared Kaitos little brother as his first impression.

"Hello, Haruto." He crouches down to meet Haruto at eye level. For a genuinely frightening moment, Haruto simply stares at him with his big, wide eyes, and Mizael thinks that Haruto hates him, will never forgive him for what he-

Haruto smiles, and says "Hello, Mizael!" and something about it makes his eyes prickle.

He holds his hand out apprehensively, looks up at Kaito, and Kaito nods to give him the O.K. He lightly ruffles Harutos hair and says, "Nice to meet you. I hope we can get along." And gives his best attempt at a friendly smile. It seems to work, because Kaito isn't throttling him, and that's usually a good sign.

HERES THE BIG TIMESKIP BECAUSE IM IMPATIENT.

Mizael can't help but notice how skinny Kaito is.

He's trying his best not to stare, but- He can see so many of Kaitos bones through his skin, the bumps of his spine, his shoulder blades, even some of his ribs, when he's bent over or stretched-

Mizael wonders why his body is like that. Why his skin seems stretched taut over his bones, why his veins showed through it- though it'd be rude to ask, wouldn't it?

He wonders how it feels. His mouth works faster than his brain, and he blurts that out.

"…What?" Kaito turns his head to look at him, not quite turning all the way around. His face has a mixture of confusion and what looks to be the start of revulsion on it, and Mizael is afraid.

"I. I was just, thinking about your body." Okay, bad start. Judging by Kaitos face, he agreed. "It's just. Are you alright? You don't look healthy." The expression on Kaitos face grows. He was only making this worse for himself, wasn't he? But he didn't understand why.

Kaito stares at him. His brow is furrowed and his nose is crinkled up but at least it's more confusion, now. "I hear enough of that from Gauche and Droite. I don’t need it from you, too."

Mizael is only more confused. Wouldn't he want to know? "But, why? Do you let yourself look like that, I mean. Shouldn't you care about what your body looks like? I… have heard of how you feel, sometimes, and I think that'd help-"

"Shut it." Kaito snaps. Mizael does as he's told.

"Mizael." Kaito says firmly, and it makes Mizael look Kaito in the eyes and a bit too afraid to look elsewhere.

"I'm dying, Mizael. There's no getting around that." He falls back onto his bed, and sighs. "I came to terms with that a long time ago. When you're quite literally killing yourself for the sake of someone you love, you kind of stop caring about physical appearances. Is that clear?"

Mizael isn't sure what to do with this.

"I- Ah." Suddenly, anywhere is better to look at than Kaitos face. "Yes, I understand. I'm sorry for prying."

Kaito interrupts him with, "No, no, I- fuck." He falls back onto the bed. "That was. Bad. I'm sorry. It's just-" He runs his hands over his face.

"I'm, tired. I'm sorry for that. It was unnecessary." He takes a long breath. "I'm just sick of hearing about it." Kaito is staring up at the ceiling, and Mizael somewhat regrets opening his mouth.

In a sort of desperate grasp for something to distract from the whole thing, Mizael says, "May I?"

Kaito lets his head fall toward Mizael and glares at him sideways. "May you what."

"Feel. Your body. Or, your bones, I suppose." Mizael doesn't even finish his sentence before Kaito is jolting up in the bed.

"Please, specify." He says, voice sounding like cold rocks and Mizael realizes that he didn't choose his wording very well.

"Well, I was… looking at you, as you were undressing. And, your bones, they show through your skin. In fact, it's as if you don't have any muscle there." He ignores the way Kaitos eyebrow twitches. "I… think it's interesting."

Kaito pauses. "Interesting?" He asks, and seems willing to forgive the absurdity of Mizaels request if just for a moment.

"Well… Yes." Mizael starts, "Your bones are odd. And the fact they show through your skin, it's odd."

Kaito seems almost interested, himself. "How so?"

"Well, for one thing- It doesn't usually do that, does it? Well, no, of course it doesn't, Alit and Durbe aren't like that. Your whole body exudes this feeling of tiredness, and I suppose that'd be accurate, wouldn't it?"

Kaito chuckles, a strange noise coming from him. Perhaps incited by the fact Mizael seemed to be rambling to himself, now. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Right. So-" Mizael pauses, bringing a knuckle to his lips, "Are your bones different from other humans'?"

"Good question." Kaito says, stretching. "I definitely know my body is, at this point."

"I want to see."

"Do you, now?" Kaito has an expression that Mizael feels he probably shouldn't be reading as condescending, but he does nonetheless.

"Yes. Besides, I've never really gotten to explore a human body. I know Barians aren't too different, but at the same time… They really are. It's intriguing."

"So, you want to inspect my body to see how it's different?"

"Have I not made that clear?"

Kaito scoffs. "No, I guess you have. Just making sure."

He finally takes his shirt and folds it up, but simply puts it on the nightstand. Mizael finds it curious, but doesn't say anything.

He stands in front of where Mizael is sitting, hands on his hips. "So, what exactly do you want to see?"

Mizael finds that, even though he's assuming the same cold, intimidating posture as he usually does, without the coat and the stern glare- he's not that scary.

In fact, looking at him like this makes him seem almost frail, but Mizael knows better than to think that. He knows that Kaito is anything but.

"I'd like to see your back." He says, matter-of-factly, but for some reason it causes Kaitos lips to twitch.

"Alright. But that's awkward like this. Come get on the bed." Kaito says. The way he says it is so plain. Although, Mizael thinks he shouldn't be surprised.

He does as he's told and follows Kaito to his bed. Kaito sits on the edge and Mizael settles somewhere in the middle. Kaito leans over, letting his arms rest on his legs. Mizael takes it as an invitation.

The first thing he notices is how Kaito flinches, just barely, when Mizaels fingers meet his back. He seems to be fine after that, though.

The next thing he notices is that his eyes are closed. He's breathing slowly, seeming to be trying to fall asleep sitting up. Like he was taking it as he would a doctors touch inspecting him for injury. It's somewhat odd. Mizael wonders why he would react like that.

He runs two fingers down his ribs, slowing briefly on the dip between each one.

"Can you move your arms?" He asks, upon finding something curious.

Kaito turns his head to shoot Mizael an odd look, but obliges, moving his shoulders in small, slow circles. Mizael is glad he understands the concept of research, and isn't bothered by it-

Or, at least, he hopes that's how it is. In any case, he can see Kaitos shoulder-blades moving underneath his skin, and it's weird.

Kaito is wondering whether Mizael even realizes him, exploring Kaitos body as he is could possibly be viewed as something far more than scientific. Knowing him, he might not, but Mizael is confusing and no one could see them anyway.

Needless to say, Mizaels hands are soft and graceful, and the way he runs his hands full-palm over Kaitos shoulders and biceps is kind of nice, it's relaxing, and, and he's missed soft almost loving touch-

Mizael murmurs something about "Galaxy-Eyes" among many other mumblings, and Kaito opens his eyes.

"Hm? Did you say something?" Kaito asks, turning his head just enough to catch Mizaels face, and Mizael seems to snap out of a daze.

"Did I?" His expression fades into something a bit more distressed as he realizes. "Ah. You heard that?"

"Yes, I did. What were you talking about?"

"I," Mizael stares at Kaitos back for a bit, and then, touching the bumps of Kaitos spine as he says it, "Your body is very strong."

Kaito smirks, turns his head back to face forward so Mizael can't see his face. "Is that so? Not what I'd use to describe it."

Mizael nods, despite the fact Kaito can't see. "Yes. Despite the fact you've tortured it the way you have, it still feels strong." A pause, "You still feel powerful, despite having been through so much." A smile creeps onto his face, faint, but there. "I was thinking that your Galaxy-Eyes reflects that, in a way."

"She does?"

"Yes. Though in what way, I'm not sure I could tell you. It's… not something I can put into words, I think."

Kaito thinks it over for a moment. "Thank you. I appreciate it, really." His voice is gentle, which is definitely not something Mizael is used to hearing when Kaito's speaking to him.

and heres where it cuts off because i dont know how to end things and i dont know where to take this from here. sorry about that

[holanads]

A Pile Of Love

Some people are good at loving, others are good at being loved. Two very different things. And some people, perhaps the luckiest of all, are good at being loved and giving that same love in return.

Relationships has never been something I’m brave enough to write about, especially in public. The love between a man and a woman to me is very personal. Even when my friends tried to tell me about their love life stories, I'd make sure it's safe enough for me to know. I mean, they would share one of their heart's top secret. Well, Add religion into the equation and it just becomes very sacred to me. I do not wish to write too long, since I've got my 5 watt eyes.

However, I just need to let a few things off my chest because it has been bothering me for quite a while now. Also, due to my hectic time, this is the only time I have to write about this before i blame  myself and regret it- though I swear to god I’m super sleepy right now.

Before we jump into the topic, yes I am single, alhamdulillah. Have I ever been in a relationship? The answer is no alhamdulillah. But, I know how it feels like to love and being loved the same way I know how it feels to be completely happy when someone tell you they love you even you do not love them, at all. You see, different people have different definitions of love. I strongly believe that the people we fall in love with can sometimes reflect the kind of person we are. For instance, I really value religion, knowledge and ambition. Thus, if i were to marry someone, I look for someone with these exact characteristics. I want someone who has the same goals that I have, same vision and mission. Someone who will not only fight with me to succeed in this world, but also in the hereafter and this must be our top priority. I need someone who works just as hard as I do even I don't know who will I become or where will I work at, I just want someone who won't get tired easily and only cares about sleep. No more time should be wasted with whiny and lazy ambitionless boys. If you’re serious to pursue a relationship (halal relationship for sure), look for a man. A GENTLEMAN!

Well, because I have no experience in a relationship so I'm just gonna give my simple opinion about loving someone from afar haha, what the heaven am I doing, ya Allah?

Uhyeah, If there’s one thing a relationship has taught me, it is the importance of maturity when it comes to love. NEVER indulge in a relationship just because it’s a ‘nice’ feeling, seriously, DO NOT! Sometimes I wonder about how he feels actually, but it doesn't matter anymore. Well, if you are having crush on someone out there just make sure they will not notice it, pretend you are not into him, and don't make any wrong moves, naaah. Give your attention to this point: The person you love has to pursue his life, his carrier, he has to take care of his parents before he takes care of you, he also needs to do his job as a slave of Allah, by showing your love to him, it means you are trying to take him to the cliff, and it means you want him to be a sinner. So, no way! If you do so, I'm afraid it is not a pure love, it is a lust.

If you want to be with someone might as well be with a person who will help bring the best out of you, spiritually, mentally and also emotionally. If the relationship you are in is leading you towards the haraam, leave. No BUTs. It is just the end of a toxic relationship, not the end of the world. If he asks you to be his girlfriend, leave and run! cut it off, you perhaps had been loved a wrong person, I mean, c'mon if he loves you, he will never take you into a haram relationship. Because loving haram things leads to pain and suffering for which there is no way out. So, it is a big no! 

Anyway people, it is perfectly OKAY to be single. I have been single for hmm...for... hmmmmm whole years of my life haha, and wallahi I have never been this happy and I have been achieving so much. I always tell my friends that when you are single, you have 27 hours a day. What it essentially mean is that you’ll have more time for yourself. I know some people who can only seek comfort in the presence of their significant other. After one relationship ends they feel they need to jump into another, uh no way. Chill people, chill. You gotta make sincere repentence to Allah for what you have done. You don’t need another person to feel sufficient. Try to be comfortable and at peace with yourself with or without a relationship. You have the rest of your life to be spent with your significant other, so while you’re single, might as well really embrace/enjoy it and prepare yourself to be a good wife/husband, and you are going to be a mom and dad anyway.

Okay last point before I hit the sack, never settle. Ya Allah I can’t stress this enough. If we dont know what we deserve, we will always settle for less. But to deserve more, we should first be more. Build your character (akhlak) before you choose to build a family. Study hard, learn new skills, take up a hobby, read more, learn about Islam, learn about the Qur'an many things. There’s so much that can be done when you’re single for your personal development, maybe I can not be a good example for this case, because did I do something BIG? not yet, so maybe we can just pick Fatimah Azzahra as our exact example. She hided her feelings for Ali bin Abi Thalib and even syaitan didn't realize what she felt for Ali. Fatimah learnt much from his father, Prophet Muhammad Shalallahu Alaihi Wassalam. Till Allah gather them with beautiful marriage. Ah, Ali and Fatimah's love story is one of my most favorite stories all of time. She became great woman, she deserves to be our role model. As woman, we have to take care of ourselves. Our health, spirituality, intelligence, akhlak (good character) etc & inshaAllah we’ll get someone who’d do the same for us. Because your mate is the reflection of yourself.

Jim Rohn once said, “The greatest gift you can give somebody is your own personal development" I used to say, ‘If you will take care of me, I will take care of you.’ Now I say, ‘I will take care of me for you, and I hope you will take care of you for me then let Allah takes care the rest”. How does it sound? hehe.

I know this entry is all over the place, but I’m half awake so do forgive me. I hope you find this post helpful. As for me, call me philophobic but I'm personally afraid to be with someone I maybe love right now haha because hm not telling you. But when the time comes, I hope the guy I end up with will be proud with the lady I have become. If you happen to read this, whoever you may be, please know that not a day passes that I don’t make do’a for you, not for us, because I'm afraid it's not you for me and it's not me for you. So, I only ask the best for you and me, you deserve the best (cliche haha). Wherever you are in this world, I hope you are also striving to be your best self. May Allah make it easy for us to find our way to each other. See you when I see you!

Sometimes you have to be apart from people you love, but that doesn't make you love them any les. Sometimes you love them more. Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other. 

Ending this cringey post with one of my favorite quotes from Rumi (Well, Rumi is one of my favourite people in this universe I don't even know how to describe it anymore, you better read some poems he made, and especially someone out there, yeah you, I really want you to read a poem by Ibrahim Nagi titled RUINS and THE BURNING FLUTE, They are beautiful. And you guys can check them out either haha) 

‘Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.’ - Rumi

Lots of love,

A 'miss-you' girl:)