#beyond freeform

[highlyillogicalandroid]

Hey everybody! I blacked out and wrote a Garashir oneshot. Enjoy!

[natalyarose]

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓼 - 𝓐𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮

Hi, and happy Bharani season to all :) I've been working on this analysis for days not necessarily because it took long to write, but moreso because I could write endlessly on Venus Nakshatras & it took me a lot of time to organize the stream of info I'd written in a more adequate manner. I hope this piece is enjoyed & informative to someone 🩷

In this piece I'm going to be diving into Venus's themes of dancing along the line between pain & pleasure, and the artistry and beauty that is born from the merging of these two extremes.

𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓑𝓸𝔁 𝓫𝔂 𝓟𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓝𝓪𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼

The song 'Glory Box' by Portishead is the song that inspired me to write my first song and take it truly seriously.

It's just such a sensual, classy, sexy, beautiful masterpiece. Though beyond that, the meaning portrayed in the song & music video speaks to my soul so vividly. I always was enchanted by this track, but seeing the music video brought it all together for me and the meaning just 'clicked'.

'I'm so tired, of playing playing with this bow and arrow I'm gonna give my heart away leave it to the other girls to play for I've been a temptress too long just give me a reason to love you give me a reason to be a woman... I just wanna be a woman'

Everything about this song, this video just screams Purvashadha & Venus. Even the line 'playing with this bow & arrow' lol- sidereal Sagittarius much? I wouldn't be surprised if Purvashadha is directly connected to Cupid.

I'm going to go a bit freeform in my interpretation of the song & video, but I think I've got the 'right' grasp of the idea portrayed:

The music video depicts people in a vintage style office setting & old fashioned, very professional 'uptight' attire. It is boring and in a sense drab, but we see life in the subtle expressions & communication. There is flirtation, but it is secretive. There is an an expectation to be professional, to be 'proper'.

There are clips of Old Hollywood-esque people having drinks, enjoying themselves. We get sporadic visuals of the singer (Beth Gibbons, Purvashadha Sun, likely Uttarashadha Moon; Uttarashadha being prominent in music), dressed beautifully & glamorously performing on the tv, looking almost pained in her beauty & artistic display of emotion.

This song speaks to the desperation to be free and sensual as a woman, or just as a soulful human being in a world where there are responsibilities and expectations to keep up an image, 'play the game' in society. The desire to 'be a woman' and express your feminine energy authentically, dress up, be emotional & sensuous, indulge in pleasure and break free from social/circumstantial limitations. However, the pain and friction between two worlds almost makes the longing and lust for the person/life you desire even more intoxicating.

Venusian desire & artistry is so intense, in the corporate world Venus ruled individuals often find themselves needing to reign in their passion, and even punishing themselves for it.

I think I first started listening to this song when I heard it in a reel that was again, extremely Venusian! I would credit it, but I think this just was a circulating video & I have no clue who the originator was. The dude (Gene Kelly) has Purvashadha Moon & Purvaphalguni ascendant. Just look at the suave-ness of Venus men lol :

There's so much more I could write about this specific song and the nature of Venus, but ima try to stick with the 'k.i.s.s' (keep it simple, stupid!) principle.

I always thought that this song & message is such a perfect piece of art to demonstrate Venusian nature, but I will note that Beth's Uttarashadha Moon definitely intertwines in terms of the message this song communicates. Uttarashadha being the height of the Sun (a 'masculine' energy) is very on par with the experience of wanting to be feminine in masculine dominated fields/with traditionally masculine expectations upon you. We could see this as almost like a conflict of interest between Beth Gibbon's Purvashadha (Venusian, feminine, romantic, beautiful) Sun and her Uttarashadha (ambitious, masculine, stoic) Moon.

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷 '𝓑𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓶' & 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰

You can often tell when a Venusian is behind a song or art piece because the vocal tone, writing style and or colour choice emanates this distinct attitude: sexy, raunchy, articulate... & often kinda bored or reflecting an unhappiness with the way the modern/current state of the world is. Especially in Purvashadha Nakshatra, there is often an intense idealisation of the past and 'old times', reflecting Venus Nakshatra patterns of longing for things they can't yet have and shaping their world view around that desire. This definitely speaks to the way Tropical Earth signs (especially Capricorn) are seen being drawn to old, vintage & prestigious relics of the past. This is in part due to Ketuvian Nakshatras residing within Tropical Earth signs, but it is also Venus Nakshatras' placement. Venusian elitism is possibly best observed in idealisation of the past- something so exclusive that nobody can actually go back to it & mainstream society often disregards it.

Venusians can exist in this state of boredom and embody this energy, this aura that almost reads 'impress me, peasant' lol. Feed me grapes & fine wine while I lay adorned in jewellery on a velvet chair- then we'll talk.

This is where Venusian Nakshatras classic pickiness, elitism & in some cases classism (and all the other isms lmao) comes in.

I once read that men can be attracted to women who look bored, disinterested or detached, because they take it as a challenge to be the one to impress her and light her up- very Venusian. It kinda explains (some) men's misguided efforts to impress women who are very clearly not interested. We see this in nature too- peacocks (and other birds), for example lol; the male peacock flamboyantly attempting to impress the female, and more often than not she is disinterested- female peacocks are a tough crowd man.

You can always spot Venusians by their expression & overall demeanour- they leave you feeling like 'I admire you, but I'm kinda scared of you and feel like you're judging me at the same time' lol. The irony lies in the fact that while yes, Venusians can be extremely critical of others, their 'judgy' expression often has more to do with the fact that they're always judging themselves. Harshly critiquing themselves like a piece of art. Venusians can find it veryy hard to feel they are 'good enough', the same way an artist never feels the painting is truly done.

Sophia Loren, Purvashadha Asc | Blake Lively, Purvaphalguni Moon | Donna Summer, Purvashadha Sun & Purvaphalguni Asc

daddy Ted Danson, Purvashadha Sun | Audrey Hepburn, Bharani Sun | Johnny Depp, Purvashadha Moon

admittedly, Audrey & Johnny boi come across a little softer to me due to their other placements, but they still definitely have the look/energy. My Bharani mama was a master of this look, & I always thought she looked a little like Donna Summer.

While Venus women embody this choosiness & unapproachability, Venus men can take on that role of wanting to be the ones to impress the woman they've set their sights on, 'wow' her.

However, that being said, Venusian men are also often very picky themselves. Venusian men and women alike are seldom impressed by aesthetic beauty alone and place a lot of importance on internal value. They often crave exoticism & uniqueness in women. Venus in our charts represents what we value & find beautiful. In a way there is more value in something or someone who is rare.

When Venusian men do find a girl they really like, they can be extremely persistent and there are a lot of cases where Venusian men will successfully initiate a relationship with a woman who wasn't initially interested by genuinely winning her over with his dedication, adoration & direct pursuit of her.

In terms of aesthetic appearance, Venusians (again, men & women) tend to have a preference for natural beauty in some way too. Femininity often refers to an energy of being flowing & receptive rather than performative or immensely exuberant. It's not uncommon to see Venus women forgoing 'performative' femininity and embracing raw female beauty. No makeup, allowing body hair to grow, messy hair, not being afraid to look 'beautifully dishevelled'- yet never necessarily unkempt. Imperfectly perfect, like a piece of art.

This is why Mars Nakshatras tend to be the women most prominent in the world of makeup and glamour. The curation and forceful manipulation of the body to look a certain way is 'masculine' in a sense. Like the way mankind manipulates & curates nature. Although there are two sides to this coin, as Venus Nakshatras can also grapple with the 'beauty is pain' idea and go to great, sometimes sadistic, masochistic lengths to achieve their ideal.

Venusians, but Bharani natives especially have a reputation for rarely smiling fully, always holding a mildly restrained expression (one of Bharani's translations literally being 'the Star of Restraint'. The Mona Lisa famously depicts this Bharani-esque expression; painted of course by Bharani Sun, Leonardo Da Vinci. It is often remarked that the painting itself isn't particularly outstanding in terms of beauty, but what makes it so charming is the mysterious aura emanated through means of the 'drab' yet earthy, sensual colour pallet & demure, vaguely amused expression. Others have remarked that the drab colour scheme brought special attention to the Mona Lisa's face, inviting us to engage with her.

Off the topic of Venusians; but Leonardo Da Vinci is also Shatabisha Moon conjunct Jupiter - Shatabisha natives, in true sidereal Aquarian fashion often receive praise for being 'ahead of their time' as Leo was indeed.

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼, 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷 & 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮, 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Purvashadha is said to embody a state of wishing to return to the 'Garden of Eden', where we are one, we are divinely connected in pure bliss, beauty and pleasure. This further explains the Venusian life of oscillating between/existing with the realms of pain & pleasure.

Bharani experiences these themes through its association with 'delayed gratification' & later rewards. Bharani will work hard and go through a lot of pain to reap pleasures later on. Bharani being ruled by Lord Yama, the Vedic God of Death draws a connection between Bharani & facing your karma in your next incarnation.

Purvaphalguni experiences the conflict between pain & pleasure through the realisation that nothing can be 'perfect' and the frustration of knowing that some things are just out of their control. Purvaphalguni experiences the 'royal' quality of the Sun combined with the the sensuality of Venus- these people often take their happiness into their own hands, but run into struggles when they realise they can control themselves but they can't control other people's mistakes & external circumstances that may put a wrench in their ideals.

Purvashadha experiences the pain/pleasure theme through pining for something, shooting for the stars with some usually highly ambitious goal, and then realising all of the obstacles in the way of attaining that goal. However, Purvashadha translating to 'the invincible one' and also having the elephant tusk as a symbol (strong, unbreakable) shows how when Venusians persist in pursuit of their desires, they ultimately are successful and attain that Venusian dream life.

In my mind desire, is a result of the friction created between pain and pleasure. This is why forbidden love is so beautiful yet hurts so badly. Almost every Venusian I've ever met has some intense story of forbidden love- falling madly in love with a cartoon character that doesn't technically exist, falling in love with teachers, falling in love with someone who's dead, falling in love with someone who's an inappropriate choice due to their age, status, culture, professional role, etc.

Perhaps the most infamous story of forbidden love, is Romeo & Juliet. I had to check, & William Shakespeare is most likely (almost definitely considering the range of birth times proposed) a Bharani Sun native. (Side note that he looks kinda like Leonardo, lol)

Amidst these intense themes of romance, tragedy and longing, Venusians are very good at playing a role in their life and showing up to that role, often very ambitiously. However within them is always this gnawing desire to just- be wild and free with their passions without the pretence, without the pressure. This can sometimes express through random outbursts of frustration.

The elitism of Venus can even be somewhat of a defense mechanism. in Venus Nakshatras there is such a deep desire to experience true intimacy and bliss with another human being; that to protect this very human vulnerability they will often design some sort of system to decide who is worthy & who isn't- eg. 'I will only befriend/associate with people who enjoy this type of music'. That way there is always guaranteed common ground & allyship between them and those whom they let in, somewhat protecting their heartspace. In this way, Venusians are 'warriors of the heart' in a sense.

This longing and desperation to be united and feel that oneness, but knowing it may not be possible is often the drive for the art of Venusians in some way or another. The pure angst, the passion.

A lot of Venusians I've observed can develop an almost nihilistic worldview, or can even seem very 'boring' or overly structured on the surface- but ironically, the reason they have this view & demeanour is because they are at their core so idealistic and full of passion that it hurts. It feels easier to just close off the heart-space all together and in some cases express their passion in a strange, or abstract (or in darker cases, violent) manner because society isn't built around beauty & pleasure as much as Venusians tend wish.

This aching to feel alive & dance between pain vs pleasure can be seen in Venusian Nakshatras' tendency to self harm or self sabotage. Venusians can do wild and even dangerous things just to feel ALIVE. To Venusians, pain is worth it if it means there could be a pleasurable outcome.

More on Venusian boredom: one of Purvashadha's symbols is a hand held fan, often a symbol of gracefulness and high society, sometimes used to convey boredom (think of the classic imagery of the beautiful women with unenthused expressions on their faces watching a riveting piano recital).

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭~

(Refer to image below)

Venusians often look PAINED lol, the women too but especially the men. Venus men have this distinct look. A lot of the time they can be womanizers or at least pleasure seeking, but also kinda sad and troubled (more of Venus' pain/pleasure themes. In a lot of stories of Venus men, they may be womanisers in lifestyle yet always have 'that one woman' who they really can't get past and regard as their 'soulmate'.

Johnny Galecki , Bharani Sun & Purvashadha Moon - particularly in his famous role as Leonard Hofstadter in the Big Bang Theory. He pines after his love interest, Penny for yearsss, getting shot down but always persisting- eventually he 'won her over' and even got married. (Bharani's delayed gratification & Purvashadha's romantic ambition).

Johnny Depp (what's with these J names?? There's this meme that boys with 'J names' are trouble, I wonder if there's any cosmic connection with Venus Nakshatras lol) Purvashadha Moon - famous for his intense relationships with women (and substances), somewhat of a womaniser as well

Jim Morrison, Bharani Moon - stunning artist & musician of course, also a womanizer who often slept with women on the road, indulging in substances.

Charlie Sheen, Purvaphalguni Sun - in real life & in the show 'Two and a Half Men' where he quite literally plays himself, he is an infamous womaniser with a penchant for substances, partying and destructive forms of pleasure.

My partner was originally in this collage lmao because I kid you not his Purvashadha lookin self fits this collage perfectly (he's got the Jim Morrison beard and the whole shabang), but he wouldn't enjoy being on tumblr so eh.

It's worth noting that a lot of Sun men who are considered attractive to women often have Venus ruled Nakshatras through their chart also. Sun influence without Venus can make men seem very dry and not very understanding of female emotions or psychology, therefore somewhat unpleasant for women to be around.

Bottom line is Venusians, love women! Venus men love women, Venus women love women.

Anyway, as always this was toooo long and like I earlier mentioned, this is the tip of the iceberg on what I could yap about in regards to Venus Nakshatras and their influence on their natives and our world in a general sense.

Thankyou for reading :) 🩷

ps. I'm very wary of talking about planets and the whole feminine/masculine thing because I really don't want to give the impression that there is a certain polarity that is more or less ideal for a gender. It's not as though if you're a woman with Mars or Sun Nakshatras you simply are not feminine, neither does it mean a woman necessarily should be traditionally feminine. be yourself lovely people ✌️

[physalian]

Trust Your Own Creativity

This was going to be a “stuck on how to design a character’s personality? Throw them in a fanfic!” post but the meat of what I was trying to say evolved (much like the point of this post).

I have three side characters from book one of a series (ENNS, out 8/25, yeeeee!) that have much larger roles in book two. The problem I’ve been having is that I have no idea what their personalities are beyond the barest that they got in the first book because they just weren’t that important. So I’ve been trying to force something to come together. Along the lines of “well I need a character like this” and ���I guess I can make this work” which does not, in fact, work.

Just tossed two of them into a “fanfic” to get to know them, a story completely isolated from the rest of the canon like their own little sandbox to play in, and I’ll experiment and see what castles they build.

So when I say trust your own creativity, I mean that writing and worldbuilding and character creation is far less “active design” and much more “active discovery”. One of my all time favorite things to write is backstory monologues. I. Love. Monologues. While I usually have a rough idea before the big speech, when it comes time to write it, it’s usually written as if I’d improvised it on stage and aside from trimming where needed and clarifying what’s muddy, it’s not only usually good to go, but it’s probably not exactly what I’d planned or envisioned to begin with.

I just let my characters talk, I give them the floor, and I wait to hear what they say. A lot of the time, they’ll say something absolutely brilliant (or stupid) that was not at all planned for them, but works so well it has altered the trajectory of their whole arc. Which wouldn’t have happened if I’d stuck religiously to The Plan.

Which is why it’s really hard for me to outline. Yes, all my books have goals and a skeleton of a plot, i.e. “must hit points A-G in this order” but the story is usually freeform. Whenever I need to make rewrites, the plot never changes, but the story might. I might swap out an argument for something softer or change the tone of a scene where needed, molding my little clay words into the sculpture it will become eventually.

You are a creative. Let your creativity speak, and then listen to it.

[keplercryptids]

if you've never considered playing anything other than D&D 5e, now might be the time to start.

as you may have heard, Wizards of the Coast wrote up a new Open Game License that was leaked and it's really, really bad. (i linked to the article about it yesterday but here's a twitter thread of the author of that article summarizing it.)

i'll attempt my own breakdown of what this means here:

the new OGL revokes the previous OGL. this is bad for so many reasons, and will affect all kinds of TTRPGs like Pathfinder, and third-party publishers like Kobold's Press.

it also means that character sheets wouldn't be able to be used in unauthorized virtual table tops anymore, including Roll20, Foundry, etc.

the new OGL grants WotC a perpetual, irrevocable license to all third-party content produced and published under the old OGL, as well as future content. for example, if WotC hypothetically liked Dimension 20's Unsleeping City setting enough, it could sell products related to that setting, without needing D20's permission.

the new OGL can be updated, changed or revoked with only 30 days' notice. truly wild.

anybody who makes more than $750k revenue (not profit, but revenue) has to pay 20-25% over that amount in royalties to WotC. this will affect so many kickstarters raising funds for indie TTRPG systems that used to fall under the original OGL. $750k sounds like a lot but keep in mind publishing books is expensive.

this is really, really bad. WotC will probably go back on some of this based on public response, and a lawsuit may make them go back on even more. (some of what they're trying to do here is illegal? i think?) but they'll likely still push forward with some of it.

it seems WotC's goal is to 1) appease shareholders (which in late-stage capitalism means "exponential growth forever") and 2) create a closed ecosystem for d&d that's completely under WotC's financial control. think: D&D Beyond being the only place you can access any D&D content, character sheets, etc. and i mean, in general, they've shown a pattern of greed and weighing corporate interests more heavily than their customers or employees.

now would be a great time to move away from d&d if you've ever considered doing so, or to consider it if you haven't.

if you want something similar to d&d 5e mechanically but a bit crunchier, try pathfinder 2e. if you want narrative-focused storytelling games, try Powered by the Apocalypse or FATE systems. if you want a mechanics-forward episodic style of play, try Forged in the Dark systems. if you want a cross-genre game with freeform character creation, try Savage Worlds. and this is an extreme short list of the great TTRPGs out there! a lot of systems that, IMO, people would have more fun playing than d&d, just based on preferred style of play. try them out and please don't give WotC anymore money lol.

[craykaycee]

sneaks onto ur dash to talk ab one of my aus with these magma doodles------

This is a Street Artist AU I-- basically adopted from @starrspice (thank you, lovelyy!!) This is a post-fire AU where the DCA escapes the fire themselves and into the city. They're stripped of the proper prompts and triggers for their childcare and entertainment programming, but are able to find something their coding can latch onto: a group of children who need entertainment. They modified their performance and entertainment programming with their arts and crafts protocols to create art as a performance!

More details (so many details-- I went off xDD) and designs of the AU, of which I've titled "City Lights and Paint Water", under the cut :3c

They're pretty beat-up from the fire, and without proper access to maintenance, they've retained the burn marks, splattered paint, and other grime associated with being outdoors. Over the months as street artists, passersby donate their old paints and other supplies, hence the oversized trousers and worn apron! (P.S.: cloth placement is more accurate in the magma doodles)

Sun and Moon each have preferred mediums and styles!

Sun prefers acrylic paints and spray paint, his paintings a controlled chaos with loud, scattered colors, large brushstrokes, and splatters. His paintings always have a lot of movement due to his freeform painting style, splattering paint and getting a laugh from the kids.

Moon like to work with watercolors and colored pencil, the colors more muted with small pops of brighter colors (such as lights within windows). He likes to capture the lights of the streets, wondering what the true night sky looks like, his art giving a soft and ethereal mood.

Then we have our Main Character (MC), the viewer/reader! They're a graphic designer for a big corporate tech company, tasked with making pamphlets, brochures, posters, et cetera for the company. Though they do good work as a graphic designer, their true passion is fine arts, but their work isn't taken seriously due to its "childish" appearance despite the real-life deeper meanings. In the meantime, they create for themself, crafting and making trinkets for their apartment. They even make some of their own clothes, made up of several different garments to make something one-of-a-kind. Their outfits are fairly chaotic, typically accompanied by a hair accessory, but the patterns and colors compliment each other well.

MC grew up in a rural area, and still love the open and free areas it provides, but they had to move to an urban city for work and better opportunities. It's a big step up from their small town, overwhelmed by the activity. At the start of the story, they feel disconnected from their work, drained by the cookie-cutter bland work of their graphic designer job, but it's the only way they can reliably earn income.

The story starts with Sun spotting MC beyond the crowd, rushing somewhere. He continues to see them in the distance, unable to approach them due to their haste. He's mesmerized by their appearance, drawn to their creative expression just in their outfit. Moon catches a few glances of MC in the evenings, but doesn't have the same draw to them as Sun, figuring them as just another "everyman" in the crowd. One day, in MC's haste, they lose a paper from their portfolio. When Sun catches it, he sees a presentation sheet of several different designs meant for a business card or a t-shirt emblem. Sun is astounded by them, making MC more interesting than they already were.

It's not until about a week later that Sun takes an opportunity to return the paper and give his compliments. When he does this, however, MC's face falls before forcing a polite smile, thanking him. Before Sun could say anything more, they're gone.

There's so many small moments I'd like to explore, but that's the set-up :3cc I nearly have chapter one (1) completed, two (2) chapters after that already planned. The chapter length is pretty short right now, but I don't know if I wanna beef them up or keep them at this shorter length. We'll see! :D

Welp, these are my boios! I hold them gently in my hands and present them like a proud parent

[helplesslyblue77]

You Can't Deny(That Beast Inside)

Genre: Smut, minors dni

Pairing: Hybrid!Felix x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Hybrid!Felix is a golden retriever, Friends to Lovers, heat - Freeform, Breeding Kink, Mentions of pups and all the usual stuff that comes(haha get it lol) with a hybrid au, Dirty Talk, hints of Sub!Felix but its mostly Dom!Felix. He gets a little posessive and crazy but we love it

Notes:

bro i love hybrid au's. they weren't something id ever seen out of the kpop fandom, and ive been in a LOT of fandoms. i wonder why thier so specific to kpop

Felix, your best friend of ten years, your lovable Golden Retriever Hybrid who always smiles and makes time for you no matter what, your crush of so many years is avoiding you. It hurts your heart to admit it but it has to be true.

It started three days ago, when you texted him, asking him to come over for your weekly movie night. You received this in response:

“I'm sorry, I can't make it this week.”

He had never, ever skipped out on your weekly movie night.

You had asked if he was ok, and he had told you he was fine, just a little sick. 

“Can I come over to help?”

You'd texted and promptly been shut down, rather harshly in your opinion. Fine, whatever. 

Ok, so maybe Felix was sick and just didn't want to get you sick as well. You believed that until you saw him at the grocery store, perfectly fine. You marched over to him, intent on giving him a piece of your mind, but to your surprise, he had practically run away from you. Without so much as a greeting. 

So you called Chan. 

“Is Felix avoiding me?”

He coughed and stuttered out. “N-no of course not, why would you think that?”

Chan was a horrible liar. 

“He ran away from me at the grocery store, and he won't answer my texts or calls.”

“He's just sick. It's not too bad, he just doesn't want to get you sick.”

You frowned, “If it's that bad, I should go over there—”

Chan interrupted you.

“No wait, he told us not to let you—”

“WHAT?”

“Wait name don't—”

That infuriated you beyond belief, so he was avoiding you huh?

You hung up, intent on giving him a piece of your mind. 

Too bad for him, you knew his address. So you collected yourself and stormed over there, opening the door with the spare key hidden under the rocks by the porch. The house was silent when you entered, storming down the dark hallway you slammed on the lights, shouting at the top of your lungs. 

“LEE FELIX.”

⊛⊛⊛

Felix felt bad about ignoring you, every minute apart from you tore at his heart, and your sad face as he had all but run away from you at the grocery store haunted him every moment.

But it was for the best. He couldn't be around you when his heat was approaching, it wasn't safe for you. He felt tense as if any minute he could jump on you and take you, with or without your permission and he would rather die than ever mess up your friendship, even if he wanted you, had wanted you for years now. 

Felix had resigned himself to being permanently stuck in the friend zone years ago, and yet he still hoped that one day, you would reciprocate his deep feelings for you, but he knew it was just wishful thinking. 

It had started years ago, these urges, and every heat since then Felix had barred alone, accompanied by only thoughts of you. It was dangerous to be near you when he was so close to his heat, your scent tempted him constantly, the pretty sundresses you wore exposed the crotch of your panties when you bent down, and Felix had to do his best not to take you over the kitchen table, in front of all of his friends.

Even if he knew they would enjoy it(Probably a little too much for their own good.)his sense of possessiveness couldn't let the other see you like that.

But it had been worse lately. You had been babysitting your younger cousin, a baby of only two and Felix had watched in agony as you practically glowed with the baby. He couldn’t help imagining the child was yours and the hybrid side of him longed to put his pups into you.

He knew you would look so good all swollen with his pups, and that was when Felix realized his heat was approaching and he needed to get away from you before he did something potentially disastrous. So he had locked himself in his room, in constant agony and accompanied only by his vivid fantasies of you.

So when he heard your pretty voice, shouting his name at first he thought it was just his fantasies. 

But the longer he listened, the more wrong it sounded. First of all, the tone was all wrong, you sounded furious and it was acconpanied by a loud slamming sound.

And then he smelled you, you're scent too fresh to belong to the small heap of your clothes he had been desperately sniffing. And then his kitchen door slammed and Felix realized you were here. In his house. Less than a wall was separating the two of you. Felix almost came right then and there, your scent overwhelming him as he humped desperately into the mattress, still fully clothed. 

You were stomping around his house, shouting his name and Felix hurriedly pulled himself out of his fantasies and bit his hand so hard it started to bleed.

The sharp burst of pain cleared his hand for a moment and he hurriedly stood up, trying and failing to hide the bulge in his pants, before giving up and taking a deep breath, exiting his bedroom.

You were furious, he could tell as you laid eyes on him, marching right up and planting a finger in his chest. Felix held his breath desperately trying not to lose it as you yelled at him. 

“Lee Felix, how dare you ignore me, your not sick—”

You were still yelling but all Felix could focus on was your pretty face, you looked so radiant when you were mad, and Felix would gladly get on his knees and worship you, let you step on his hard cock with your pretty feet or maybe you would slap him, and call him a pervert. He could be your good boy, he could do that. Or if you wanted he could beg you to sit on his face, he would gladly suffocate in your pussy.

That would feel like heaven.

Or maybe if he begged for it enough you would let him fill your pussy with cum, pumping his pups into you until you were nice and round and full, and—

“Felix! Are you even listening to me?”

Felix could help it, he let out a whimper. You frowned, finally taking in his flushed cheeks, his sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, his wrinkled clothes and most telling of all, the large bulge tenting the front of his gray sweatpants. Your eyes widened, and you stepped back hurriedly. Felix followed you, trying to be as close as possible to you, even if he knew he couldn't have you. You frowned, your back hitting the wall, and parted your pretty lips, asking him a question. 

“Felix? Are you in Heat?”

Felix pressed against you, and buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent in large gulps, trying his best to memorize it before you ran out of the house in disgust.

You shivered a little and Felix groaned as he smelt the sweet smell of arousal emanating from between your thighs. The strings holding his sanity were thin, too close to snapping as you thrashed against him, rubbing your thighs together. You shuddered and ground out a question. 

“Felix? Do you need help? I can get someone—”

“No…”

He moaned out, his voice rough and deep and you whimpered. “Only want you, please…”

His tale swished back and forth, the soft yellow fur catching on your leg and you moaned as his pretty hands gripped your thighs desperately. “You…want me?”

The question came out haltingly, your brain muddled and overcome with arousal. 

Felix nodded against your neck. “Only wanted you, always. I love you.”

You gasped at the admission, your heart full, even as your empty pussy pulsed.

Felix whined against you, the scent of arousal driving him nearly insane. He was about to tell you to leave, you needed to leave before he lost it and fucked you against the wall, but then you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him into his room and shoving him onto the bed. 

“I love you too, Felix.”

He whimpered as you pulled off your shirt and skirt, your panties and bra hitting the floor. He made quick work of his clothes, and you stared greedily at his cock, gulping. 

You realized that Hybrids had, um, bigger dicks than humans, but you had never realized how truly big he was. Just the sight of it made your mouth water desperately, and another time you would have loved to have your mouth on it but right now, you just wanted it inside you, spearing your insides and rendering you nearly dumb.

You could tell Felix wanted the same, even as he waited patiently for you, you could see his impatience in how his hands gripped the sheets, ripping holes and he desperately held himself back, trying to not look too desperate. His tail was wagging back and forth, at an embarrassing rate and all he could see was you. He couldn't believe this was even happening.

After years and years of deserted hopes and dreams of you, he tried to hold on to as he woke to a cold empty bed, you were finally his, not Chans, not Jisung's, his mate.

Felix could smell your arousal scenting the air, and the sight of your naked body was just too much for him. He was about two seconds from just jumping on you and taking you against the floor but thankfully, you ceased his torture and moved on top of him gracefully, lining your entrance up with his tip. 

You were tempted to tease him, he looked too cute with that desperate look in his eyes, his cheeks flushed and his chest heaving up and down with the effort of restraining himself, but you didn't know if you would last, your arousal driving you nearly insane with want. So you spared him, easing down slowly on his cock, taking him one inch at a time. 

He was big, and the stretch was slightly painful but the pain only served to turn you on more, and when you looked down, and saw that only half of him was inside of you, you felt yourself tighten around him. Felix knotted his hands tighter in the blankets, letting you take your time. You felt so good, so tight, the hot walls of your pussy fluttering around him and your pretty moans filling the air.

Felix still half believed this was a dream. 

It took a lot of time, but finally, he was fully inside of you. You felt stuffed, unbelievably full as he pulsed inside of you, and you nearly came there and then as you looked down, noticing the bulge denting your stomach.

Felix was almost gone by now, his hybrid side so close to taking over and all he could think about was fucking you full of his pups, filling his precious mate up completely, and fucking you until you were moaning and screaming dumbly on his cock. 

Before he was completely gone, he made sure to grip your face, turning your eyes to his own. 

“Can I let go?” 

You shuddered, and leaned in, kissing him gently. “Yes, Felix. I'm yours.”

And with those words he was gone.

He lunged forward, gripping you close to him and he pounded your pussy desperately, moans and whimpers filling the air and mixing with your own. He set a ruthless pace, his thick cock felt like it was rearranging your internal organs with each thrust and you didn't think you would ever be able to go back. He had quite literally ruined you for another man. 

“Your mine, m-my mate. The others cant have you.”

At the mention of the others, you almost stopped him, but his words were slurred and desperate, and his possessive nature turned you on. You could almost feel your thoughts slipping away like he was fucking them out of you. 

“Oh Felix, y-yes I'm y-yours…” you interrupted yourself with a loud moan as Felix picked up his thrusts, humping into you with wild abandon. 

This desperate, possessive side of your Felix, who was always sunshine and smiles was new to you. It turned you on beyond belief. You could feel your high coming, feel the tense knot in your groin as Felix fucked you closer and closer to completion. You could feel his thrusts stutter as well.

You tried to warn him. “Felix, ‘m c-coming!”

He mumbled out more nonsense, interspersed with desperate moans as he sucked possessive hickeys into your neck. 

“Make sure the o-others know your mine…fill you up with my c-cum, breed my pretty mate full of my pups…”

His hand makes its way to your clit and you scream, fingernails leaving large scratches on his back. 

His thrusts turn sloppy and he ruts into you desperately, his moans mixing with yours. 

“So pretty, always been so p-pretty, and n-now you're mine.”

You whimper, gripping his shoulders tightly. Your high crashes over you, and you clench around Felix's cock, he stutters, shoving inside you one more time, and moans as he cums. You feel his knot swell inside you, locking his cock inside you as he cums and the extra stretch makes you orgasm a second time, clenching around Felix as he lets out an especially raspy grunt. 

He seems to cum and cum, his hand making its way down to your clit, and he rubs circles into it, prolonging your orgasm. You pull him down, sealing your lips as his cum pumps into your stomach. The kiss is all teeth and tongue and as your orgasm finally dies down, Felix’s still hard cock lodged in your stomach you feel beyond exhausted. Felix collapses on top of you, kissing your neck.

He hugs you fondly, his voice almost shy as he asks you, “Be my girlfriend?”

You giggle a little, how is this the same man who fucked you ruthlessly into the bed and still has his cock lodged inside you. You can tell he's pouting against your neck so you put him out of his misery, wrapping your arms around his naked back. “Oh course Felix.”

His cock is still hard inside of you, and you can feel yourself clench around him. He sounds almost cocky as he teases you. “Are you ready for more, Baby?” 

You slap his back. “How long do heats usually last?”

He smirks, pulling away as his hands and planting a chaste kiss on your lips. 

You wiggle, clenching around him. 

“About a week.”

You moan as he flips you around, entering you again from the back even as his cum drips down your thighs, wetting the bed below you. You're in for a long week. 

originally posted on ao3 on 2023-06-04

reposted on ao3 on 2023-06-08

[olderthannetfic]

I'm so sure this is (a lot of) someone's kink, and I'm dying to know what it's tagged on AO3 because I'm writing it and I would also like to read more of it:

Femslash where the fems who are slashing are ostensibly straight.

Like "Girls Gone Wild" implies to me that they're 19-year-olds on spring break, and tagging "I Kissed A Girl (And I Liked It) by Katy Perry is the plot" seems both overwrought and likely to get left unfiltered in the Katy Perry fandom.

Something about the dissonance between a character having wild lesbian sex while also repeatedly affirming her own heterosexuality and grasping with both hands the social power it gives her is just *fascinating* to me and I want to read five million of it lmao.

(Relatedly, I also love the dynamic of older woman/younger woman "teaching how to please one's husband," and I'm not really sure how to find more of that one either beyond MIL/DIL ships, which tragically don't get tagged "Mother-in-Law/Daughter-in-Law" in the freeforms for me to find fandom-blind.)

Hoping you or a reader might know! Or if there's some Guidebook Of Kink Names I could consult, that'd be really nifty hahaha.

--

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 11: Enemies to Lovers

Bad Education | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,061 Main Tags/Warnings: Buttler!Castiel, CEO!Dean, enemies to lovers, boss/employee relationship, character development, comedy Summary: When a multimillionaire grandfather wants to give his grandson Dean Winchester a lesson, he will search for a desperate method by hiring Dean's worst nightmare to be his butler. Will the charismatic Castiel be able to educate the most egocentric, selfish and rebellious rich dude and turn him into a perfect CEO? Or will they kill each other before that happens?

Better Than You | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,950 Main Tags/Warnings: Light internalized homophobia, office au, coming out, rivals to lovers, childhood friends, fluff, angst, happy ending Summary: Dean has many goals in his life, but there's just one that bothers him to death: to defeat the perfect Castiel Novak at any cost. This is a self-discovering journey, in which Dean will try his best to win against Castiel and not to fall in love with him in the meantime.

Maybe not a comedy (according to Jack), but he likes the happy ending | @seidenapfel Rating: Mature Word Count: 67,602 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Canon-Typical Violence, Angels, Demons, Angel Wings, Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mention of Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, possible Meg Masters/Charlie Bradbury, Additional Warnings In Author's Note Summary: Dean Winchester is dead. He died ten years ago, when he sold his soul to Demon Corp in order to save his brother’s life. He has lost everything, even his dignity. All that is left is a brutal tool to torture other lost souls on Inferno just like himself. Castiel’s orders are simple. Free one random soul from the pit on Inferno in order to bring it back to Angelus Associations’ headquarters on Paradiso. No one expects him to be successful, but, as a soldier, he never questions his orders. The moment Castiel lays eyes on the human overseer, everything changes. Castiel has found his mission, the man he needs to save. An adventure begins that takes Dean and Castiel from planet to planet, from Inferno to Purgatorio to Paradiso, and beyond. It’s a journey to find themselves and each other.

Vampirenatural: The Rebellion - Rogue | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 225,822 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, World of Darkness, Human Dean Winchester, Detective Dean Winchester, Vampire Castiel (Supernatural), Angst, Smut, Gallows Humor, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Human/Vampire Sex, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, sickness and injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Kiiiind of Mafia, Kiiiind of Murder Husbands, Russian Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Suicide, non-consensual biting, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Acts of War Summary: From clubs to underground caverns, seedy motels, haunted hotels and exclusive mansions, Los Angeles has it all. It's a place for the pretty and the hopeful, but beneath its star-spangled façade are shadowy corners harbouring the vagrant and the vagabond alike. It's a world of corruption, sex and violence, Detective Dean Winchester has learnt to navigate with ease. Eight years at Santa Monica PD could never have prepared him for the underbelly of this so-called City of Angels though. Dean knows the shadows, he knows them intimately, but is he prepared for the World of Darkness?

[yumeaoka-chan]

Walls Will Crumble(say the word)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Demon! Hobie x Angel! Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Tags: Cursing, blood, gore (oops), reunions, flashbacks (it's all coming together), death (it's not that bad, I promise), fighting, scared reader, angry reader (furious even), Billie & Ramona, angry hobie, crying, norman osborn (cuz that mf needs his own tag, ew), degradation (screw osborn, real talk), panic attack?? (kinda, but not really), title based off of Don't Think Twice by Hikaru Utada, no physical description of reader (besides clothing), reader is AFAB, sparse use of y/n (just once, promise)

Summary: A century in the dark. A century of loss. A century of longing and aching… It's high time you get the revenge you so deserve, no? A/N: Credits for the lovely banners go to @the-shroom-garden !!! Another late entry for Octobie @the-kr8tor , oops! Billie, Ramona, and third child belong to Katy! Last part of the au that has been keeping me up for several days now🫠💕💕

Part 4 >>> Part 5

The sound of knocking at your front door startles you slightly, the soapy dish in your hand falling into the sink. Rinsing your hands off and wiping them on a dry dish towel, you walk into the living room of your apartment slowly. You weren't expecting any visitors, especially since your friends have been out of town. “A business trip”, is what they had said when you questioned why all three of them had to leave together, sheepish smiles on their faces. You'd brushed it off and believed them because they actually did work together at a small local clothing shop. Maybe their boss wanted to treat them for their hard work, you weren't sure. Besides, the guilty look in their eyes for having to leave you for three whole months made you weak and quick to reassure them. Even if three months was an absurd amount of time for a business trip.

Peering out of the peephole, you squint your eyes at the sight of a tall man biting on the long nail of his thumb, foot tapping on the doormat. He looked a little nervous and a bit… familiar. You unlock and open your door just enough to peek your head out, the man's head whipping around immediately to meet your eyes. Piercing golden orbs gaze back at you, warm and glittering and oh so familiar. Your mouth drops open as you hurriedly open the door wider, gazing up at the man before you and raising a hand up to gently rest it on his arm. You never thought you'd see him again. After that night you met, you'd gone to see him again a few days later like you promised you would. Only for disappointment and slight concern to fill your chest at the sight of his corn maze burned to the ground, the soil black with the ashes of the burnt plants. There were no remnants of a scarecrow to be seen, just a few burnt straws of hay laying in the very middle. And though the logical side of you tried to remind you that he was a demon and he'd be fine, you still found yourself worrying.

“Hobie…? Y-You didn’t burn to a crisp…?” You whisper softly as you peer up at his face, noting all the little changes. His face looked shaper and a bit fuller, like he'd finally been eating well. He was taller too, the top of your head barely reaching past the middle of his chest. Long locs spilled over his shoulders and down his back instead of the freeform wicks, shimmering crystals weaved into his hair and hanging from the ends. Hobie sports a leather jacket adorned with several pins and spikes, as well as black combat boots with jingling chains dangling off the belt loops of his plaid jeans. He looks good, beyond good. Amazing. You can feel your cheeks warm up a bit as he chuckles lowly, your heart fluttering at the deep voice you'd longed to hear these past few months. He's tender in the way he grips your wrist and guides your hand to rest on his chest, letting you feel the way his own heart flutters beneath your palm.

“I was a good boy, lovie. No eatin’ any angels, remember?” Hobie murmurs as he leans down just a bit while looking down at you through his long lashes, eyes shining with a fondness to them. You roll your eyes as a smile flits across your face.

“How could I forget? You're a demon with morals”, you chuckle as you step back and nod your head, eyes roaming over his appearance once again. “Modern clothes look good on you.” Hobie grins at your words and moves back to do a little twirl, flipping his locs over his shoulder as he bats his eyelashes at you. It makes a loud guffaw leave you as you shake your head. People walking pass give you both weird looks of judgment and you roll your eyes while taking his hand, leading him inside of your apartment. Once inside, he takes both of your hands in his and pulls you close to him, making you raise an eyebrow in question.

“I know it's been a while, angel. I had some things to take care of back home. But thanks to that, I've finally got all my powers back.” Hobie says with a smile before furrowing his eyebrows, gently squeezing your hands as a flicker of something you can't quite name goes across his face. He lowers his eyes to the floor before bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek. Nuzzling your face in his palm is practically second nature, something in you knowing that this was right. That this was how it should always be. Hobie's molten gaze hypnotized you, his golden eyes swimming with a hint of sadness, a hint of hesitation. Your fingers move to grip the hem of his leather jacket.

“What is it, Hobie…?” You mumble as you feel one of his thumbs grazing your bottom lip. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as several heartbeats pass between you. Warm lips are pressed against your forehead then, lip piercing cool against your flesh as you melt under his affection. Only, it feels as if your body is suddenly thrown, pushed down into the ground and sinking deep beyond the flooring of your home. You're drowning, the tide is pulling you down into the depths of the abyss. A bubble leaves your lips as you gasp and…

“I'm tellin’ you, love. Somethin’ is wrong with that slimy bastard.”

“Trust me, Hobes. I know…” You sigh in exasperation as you lay down on his lap, the scent of flowers all around you as you both sit in the field of daisies. One of Hobie's hands is buried in your hair, sharp nails gently scratching at your scalp in a soothing way. You can feel your body relaxing as you wrap your large wings around you like a blanket. The sounds of the babbling brook a few feet from your resting area lull you into a sense of calm, much better than how stressed you had been when you came to meet up with Hobie. The demon prince grumbles softly as he brushes a flower petal off of your cheek, frustration battling with the peacefulness of the serene surroundings.

“He's up to somethin’, I just know it. Cause there's no way he's just allowin’ the shit my dad's doing to just happen with no fuss. Startin’ natural disasters, causing war, famine, and disease? Don't even get me started on the monthly demon scares the humans keep talking about…” Hobie sighs and scrubs a hand down his face, anger and suspicion coloring his words as he places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head to look up at him.

“And then there's Osborn’s obsession with you… That I really don't like”, he rumbles lowly, his grumpy expression reminding you too much of a cat. Biting back the giggle that threatens to escape you, you lift a hand up to poke at his cheek.

“It'll pass. Here's hoping he forgets me entirely for someone new. But, you're right. Why is he just overlooking this stuff? The balance is all out of whack. I might have to speak with him about it later”, you mumble, eyes fluttering shut as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. The scene melts away.

You're now thumbing through paperwork, brows furrowed as you try to tally the number of souls that should have been admitted into Heaven. Should have, but are nowhere to be found. Files missing and the count not adding up, you angrily huff and slam the papers down onto the desk. The feathers of your wings ruffle and puff up as you move to search through Osborn’s papers instead, hoping that maybe he has what you're looking for. Thank the stars he's out attending to whatever business he claims he has to see to. If he ever saw you combing through his desk, you're sure his lecture and punishment would have been long.

After minutes of searching, you still don't find the papers you're looking for, a groan leaving your lips as your wings droop a bit. You let out a sigh and pick up one of the files that litter the desk, mindlessly flipping through the pages. It'd do no good to keep searching when you were too tired to do so, a break much needed at the moment. As your eyes flit across the paper, you can't help but notice that it's mentioning the names of the souls that you've been looking for. It makes you sit up straighter, eyes widening as you focus on the context of the scrawny handwriting. A contract. It was a contract. And as you read the full details of what it entails and the signatures written on the very bottom, you can feel your heart thudding in your ears, breath stilling and hands trembling.

Because why in the Almighty’s name did the High Priest think to make a contract with the King Of Demons…?

“ ‘In exchange for the services of aiding in the recruitment of new devotees, I, Norman Osborn, High Priest Of the Archangels and soon to be God of Order, agree to the releasing of the more innocent of souls. A select choice of the finest souls being of infants, virgins, and the highest order of faithfuls shall be bestowed upon the reigning King of Demons monthly, upon completion of aiding the new order. Should either party fail to uphold their end of the agreement, the offender must release unto the other their most treasured possession...’ ”

The whispered words make you sick as you utter them, paper falling from your hands as the information sinks in. It all clicks then. The large amount of disruptions and demon activity on earth, the huge amount of missing souls, the lack of reactivity from the High Priest. Osborn was giving the King free reign to cause havoc, in hopes that humans will see the demons and turn towards faith to pull them through. Faith in a new God who wasn't the Almighty, a God who'd “restore” the peace and order. And all it costs him is the souls of truly innocent people, people and children who earned their eternal rest now damned to an eternal prison. Hobie had been right to be suspicious, right to keep questioning everything. Because now, everything was going to shit.

The sounds of faint footsteps make you jolt, alarms going off in your head as you quickly put the files back in order. You had to tell someone, but who would believe you? Surely not your fellow angels, some who already look at you with jealousy. They could use this knowledge against you, make Osborn punish you for being “disloyal” and falling for “a devil's lies”. No, you had to leave, had to take this with you. Stuffing the papers into your chiton, you quickly open a portal to your hideaway and dart in. Heart pounding furiously, you can feel yourself breaking down when you see Hobie already sitting in the circle of flowers, lying back with his hands behind his head. It's like he can feel your presence when you arrive, body already turning in your direction. He smiles warmly at you and you feel the dam break, hot tears dripping down your face.

Hobie's next to you in an instant, smile gone and eyebrows knitted with concern as he cups your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that continue to fall.

“It's awful, it's awful, Hobie. It's terrible”, you sob as your hands cling to the fabric of his shirt, chest heaving as you gasp with your words. Lips press against your cheek and his deep voice calmly shushes you as he wipes the tears still.

“Breathe, angel. Breathe. I'm right here. Just tell me what's wrong. What's terrible?” He mumbles against your cheek before pressing another kiss to your forehead and another to your other cheek. Before golden eyes gaze calmly into yours. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you calm the frantic beating of your heart.

“You were right. Your suspicion and everything about how messed up everything is was right… And I'm the one who took the only proof of it away…” You breathe out, hands shaky as you reach to hand him the files. Hobie takes the papers from you with a worried look before silently reading what you handed him. His expression darkens as he reads the full contract, fire licking behind his eyes. Clenching the paper in his grip, he looks around before looking back down at you.

“Who else knows of this, love?”

“N-Nobody. I found it in Osborn’s office when I was searching for papers. This is bad, Hobie. He's planning something that's gonna wreck the natural order of things. Becoming a God… It's madness…” Hobie scratches the back of his head before scrubbing a hand over his face. He looks at you with wide eyes then, a flicker of trepidation in his eyes.

“Listen, sweetheart. We gotta leave here. From the Heavens, earth, the Hells, all of it. Nowhere is safe right now. Osborn is gonna figure out that you're the one who took it–”

“–Because I'm the only person with access to his things…” You mutter quietly, fresh tears welling up in your eyes and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Because even if you were now one of the strongest angels besides Osborn, there was no way you could fight all of your peers and make it out alive by yourself. Hobie pulls you close at the look of utter despair on your face, arms wrapping around you tightly and burying his face into your shoulder. He rubs at your back as you silently sob, cooing and reassuring you that it would all be okay.

“He's not gonna find us, lovie. I've got a place in mind, somewhere no one knows about, okay? Do you trust me, angel…?”

“I trust you… I love you…”

“And I love you. Let's get goin’, yeah?” The scene melts away.

Laughter fills the air as you smother your daughters in kisses, raining little pecks on their cheeks as they squeal and try to break free. Hobie watches you three with a dopey grin on his face before cooing at his son, watching little Aiden flap his wings and glide over to him. You and Hobie had found a little sanctuary in a realm just beyond Earth, between Heaven and the Hells. Invisible to most everyone besides those who knew just where to search. It was there that you two decided to make it official, your union evident by the rings adorning your fingers. The rings were special, able to turn into a matching pair of tear shaped necklaces, one with a ruby and the other with a sapphire. It was with your union that you were able to bring your pride and joy into this world. Twin girls, named Billie and Ramona, and a little boy named Aiden. When you first held them, you couldn't imagine a life without them. They were perfect and they were yours, you and Hobie's. You vowed to protect them till your very last breath if it ever came to the day that your peace was shattered.

A trumpet blaring rings in the air, making all of you look up towards the source. And that's when you see it, a large swarm of angels breaking through the barrier of the realm, pieces of its shattered remains falling down from up high as they dive down towards your direction. Fear pierces your heart as your girls grip onto you tighter, anxiety shining in their eyes. You turn to Hobie, who holds Aiden close to his chest, before you both run as far as you can with your children in tow. Eyes glowing a bright white, you conjure up a wall of flowering vines that reach miles high and separates you from the approaching angels.

“Run! Get the children and get out of here!” Hobie yells at you as he hands the frightened toddler in his arms over to you, frantic and in disarray. His hands push at your shoulders, forcing you to turn away. This was it. Osborn had finally found you and now your family was in danger. Shaking your head, you plant your feet firmly on the ground, tears stinging your eyes as they start to spill down your cheeks.

“Not without you!” You sob desperately, trying hard to turn around and face him. Only for his hands to be firm in making you flee. You can smell the scent of smoke in the air, chest heaving as you feel your wall of vines now starting to burn. The fire is spreading too quickly, starting to creep towards the hanging vines adorning your cottage. His hands shake as he pushes you to move, to walk. There's fear in his voice, dripping worry that trickles down into you as his hands on your shoulders slowly dissolve into wriggling spiders.

“I'll find you! Just leave, quickly!” Hobie growls before the spiders on your shoulders scurry away, the sounds of him transforming ringing in your ears as you hold your son closer to you. Heat surrounds you now as you lead your children towards the escape route that you and Hobie had made if something like this were to ever happen. Only, to stop and hold your children close to you as the wood of your cottage splinters and crashes down in front of you, burning planks blocking your way. Fire licks at your cheeks as Billie and Ramona cower by your sides, Aiden wailing his heart out. This was too much for them to be experiencing right now. Heart thundering in your ears, you lead them around the cottage, hoping to get to the brook on the other side. At least, then you'd have a chance of getting out of here. Your hopes are dashed as a horde of angels fly down to surround you all, holy swords and staffs in hand as they close in on you. You know you can't escape them like this with your children in tow, can't fight them off with your arms focused on holding them close.

A hand harshly yanks at your hair, pulling you away at the same time that you feel multiple hands forcing your arms off of your children.

“No! No, no! Let me go!” You scream and kick, trying to get back to them, wings flapping harshly. A cry of pain leaves your lips as you feel a hand ripping and tearing at your feathers, blood dripping into the grass below from your damaged wing. You can hear Billie and little Aiden crying, Mona screaming as you're forced onto your knees. Glowing restraints are placed on you, around your wrists and wings, strings of light wrapped tight around your wriggling form.

“Leave my mummy alone!” Mona screams as energy crackles around her, tears falling down her cheeks and little fists shaking with fear. The angels reach out to hold her back, only to hiss with pain as they touch her arm. Your heart breaks at the sight, her power growing wild and out of control with how terrified she is. You shake your head as she reaches out to you, energy crackling around her fingertips.

“Mona, no. Don't–”

“You produced these abominations, little dove…?” The voice makes your body seize up almost instantly, heart thudding so hard that it aches. A cold sweat breaks on your skin and your breath hitches as the hand in your hair gives a harsh yank, forcing you to look up at the man before you. Icy blue eyes bore into your own, a frown painted on his lips. Osborn places a hand under your chin and forces you to look at your children as he flicks his wrist, a large bubble of light shining into existence around them, trapping them. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, wagging his finger at them when Aiden and Billie scream, the powerful sound making their prison vibrate harshly.

“Surely, that devil poisoned your ear and forced himself upon you. You didn't allow him into your bed. Right, my dove…?” Osborn says as he looks you over, but by the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes, you can tell he already knows the truth. With trembling lips and your instincts to protect your young rising, you sneer up at the High Priest with hate flickering in your eyes like an ember.

“You don't care about that. You just care about what I know!” Norman raises an eyebrow and sweeps a hand to gesture at the trembling twins holding their baby brother close.

“Why would I not care? My little dove, now with filth for offspring? And a demon prince who's been frothing at the mouth, trying to make us leave you alone? I am nothing but concerned, little dove.” As he leans in, you take the opportunity to spit in his face, a smirk on your lips as the saliva drips down his cheek.

“Don't you ever call my children outside of their names”, you hiss, the words sounding like a curse between your teeth. Osborn sighs and wipes your spit away with his thumb before more feathers are viciously plucked from your wings. You cry out as warmth dribbles down your back, blood splattering onto the flowers beneath you.

“So, he has poisoned you. A shame. You have such a bright light inside you, the brightest I've ever seen. It's now contaminated, I see.” Smoke forms thick clouds that drift in the air and you can hear Hobie shouting in the distance. Your children crying for you fill your ears as you look up, heart shattering as you watch the cottage you built with love crumble to the ground, flowers crushing and burning under the lit wood. Several more angels come toward you then, a tall cube made of pure light floating behind them. Hobie's snarling and banging on the walls of his prison, skin burning from the holy magic used to keep him at bay. He's snapping his teeth and roaring as his body constantly shifts, little spiders shaping into a swarming mass before wriggling into the form of massive creatures, then going back to him banging against the walls.

The enraged demon's eyes shift to his three little ones being held at bay before drifting over to you. You can see the way his golden eyes morph into seething crimson slits as Osborn raises his staff at you, voice booming loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Little dove, thou bearest a great sin indeed. For permitting a devil into thy bed and giving life to foulblood nephalems, thy light has died. In the Almighty’s name, no longer shall thee be permitted to adorn his heavenly skies.” Your lips tremble and you scream as more feathers are plucked from you, pain making your head spin. Hobie bangs even harder, shouts even louder.

“That's bullshit! You don't speak for the Almighty, fuckin’ snake! Get away from them! Don't touch my family!” The demon roars, all boiling rage and dripping despair. “Osborn! I'll rip you apart!” You can hear as he struggles, trying hard to get to you even as his skin sizzles and the children cry in the distance. A piercing scream rings through the air and now you're falling from up high, tears dripping from your eyes as you gasp. It feels like hundreds of hands are dragging you down, your deadly descent to the ground impending. You reach your hand towards the sky and…

Your chest heaves as you feel yourself finally being snapped back into your body, gasps leaving you as you stumble backward. Gentle hands hold your waist as you clench your eyes shut, the memories flooding you like a tidal wave. With shaky hands, you grip onto Hobie's arms tightly for support as you try to calm down the thundering of your heart. Tears, hot and thick, cascade down your cheeks as you feel your wings, your wings, emerge from your back, one of the appendages almost completely featherless. You reach up to touch your ruby necklace with shaky fingers, your other hand patting Hobie's chest to find his sapphire one sparkling beneath his shirt. And as you look up with teary eyes to gaze into his watering golden ones, you don't speak for several moments. Because finally, finally, you remember everything. Every foggy detail shines under a new light, every missing piece now clicked into place.

“Hobie… My Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you lift a hand to tenderly cup his cheek, heart aching as he nuzzles his face into your palm. His lips tremble as he smiles and nods his head, one of his hands resting on the back of your neck.

“That's right, angel. Your Hobie… Just yours”, he whispers, voice wavering with unshed tears that finally fall as he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss. Both of his hands move to hold your face as he tilts your head back, kisses leaving you breathless and dazed. All of his frustration, all of his longing, all of his yearning. You can feel it all pouring into you, making you press yourself closer as you kiss each other senseless. It's like time stops, the world stilling just for the two of you. Nothing else matters, not when the love of your life, your fate, holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world to him. When you finally break away for air, your hands roam his face and hair, eyes looking him over as if you truly couldn't believe he was with you once again.

“H-How did you find me? Where have you been? Oh my days, where are the kids? Billie and Ramona? Little Aiden…?” Hobie shushes your bombard of questions with another kiss, chuckling at the way you practically melt because of it. Pulling you over to the couch, you both sit down as he shares what happened to him during the century following your fall. Hobie tells you of how he'd been taken to his father by the angels and punished to haunt the earth for the rest of his days, consuming souls his only way of nourishment. He tells you how his friends, Ned, Riri, and Serenity had followed him to earth in order to help get him back home. Of how he had them show Osborn’s contract to a group of angels who regretted tearing your family apart and how his friends went to find you, promising to watch over you as Hobie regained his strength. Hobie reveals how he had to conserve the brightest of souls that entered his maze in order to break the curse placed over him and the maze, how seeing you again for the first time in years had let him know he was finally ready to make his move.

“For the past three months, I've been gatherin’ forces to help take down my father and Osborn. Demons and angels alike, if you can believe it. Becomin’ King gave me the power to give you back your memories and the ability to shape his realm however I like. I've turned it into one we can all live happily in. Like before…” Your eyes soften at his words, the thought of Hobie doing everything he could to reunite your family making your heart swell. His hands caress your cheeks as he looks down at you with pure adoration and burning affection, devotion to you and only you screaming from the way his touches are as soft as silk. Golden gaze, a liquid pool of warmth that you're all too happy to dive in.

“Chaos, Mayhem, and the little terror are at home waitin’ for you, lovie. Why don't we go see ‘em, hm?” Hobie hums against your lips as he leans down to peck your lips once, twice, three times before leaning back just a bit. And everything in you screams to do what he's saying, wanting nothing more than to hold your little ones close and never let go. And yet…

“Not yet”, you mumble quietly, brows furrowing and a small frown on your lips. A grim look washes over your features, Hobie's thumbs grazing your brow to try and smooth the look off of your face. You shake your head and peer up at him sadly.

“Not until we're safe. We'll never be safe while Osborn still lives and I couldn't bear to face them until it's all over. He called them filth…” You say, seething as the memory ignites a fire within you. A need to see the man who dared speak ill of your children and love rot like a festering corpse. Hobie's deep voice rumbles in his chest as he peers at you with slight concern.

“Are you sure, angel? You don't have to fight if you don't want to.”

“I want to. I need to see him bleed. He's done too much harm to not only us, but the balance of the realms in general. We're making that bitch grovel.” You say with a huff, a determined gleam in your eyes. Hobie chuckles and nods his head, pressing his lips against your forehead softly.

“That's my girl.”

The next two weeks are spent at an abandoned building in the countryside planning for the coup d'état, rebel Archangels and demons working side by side to end Osborn’s schemes. Serenity, Ned, and Riri were there when you arrived holding hands with Hobie, all three of them rushing to pull you both in a hug. They rained apologies on you for leaving you alone for so long, which you just dismissed. It was for a good reason, after all. They all help you train your powers again, rusty after having gone so long without them.

“Strange how I still have divine powers”, you mumbled as you dodged a blow to the face from Riri, who growled angrily. For someone who was rusty, you were still pretty good at being slippery. Even if you absolutely loathe him, Norman's teachings truly didn't fail you. Hobie shrugs from his perch on the windowsill, munching on a bright blue fruit that weirdly enough smelled just like coconuts and cream. A fruit from the Hells, no doubt.

“Well, that fallin’ from grace bullshit wasn't at all justifiable, ‘specially comin’ from that wanker”, he huffs before letting out a low impressed whistle as he watches you conjure two whips made of pure light, snaking the weapons around Riri’s legs and yanking them to make her fall on her back. The cambion groans as her head falls back into the dirt, dust settling in her curls. You give her a teasing smile and blow a kiss to her when she flips you off, getting back up with a scowl on her lips. You spend the last few days training and taking walks with Hobie, thoughts drifting to your kids that were waiting for you at your new home. It made you strengthen your resolve, knowing that you had people you needed to protect. You had finally gotten your family back and nothing was going to come between you all ever again.

The day for the rebellion finally rolls around, your heart hammering in your chest as you finish wrapping the sash around your enchanted robes. All black and white ombre with long sleeves that end up wrapping around your fingers, intricate gold vines etched into the fabric. Long black boots on your feet and the ruby necklace shining brightly around your neck, you sigh as you gaze at your reflection in the mirror. Your damaged wings mock you as they flutter uselessly, anger and trepidation swirling in your eyes as you bite your lip. Today was the day. Osborn was going to pay for everything he'd done to you, to Hobie, to your children. To all those unfortunate humans that were unknowingly a part of his dastardly schemes. You were ready to end it all. But why did you still feel so… scared…?

“Almost ready, love?” Hobie's warning voice rouses you out of your musings, giving him a small smile as you turn around to face him. Perhaps it doesn't reach your eyes, because his smile falls as he nears you, golden orbs glinting with sympathy.

“What is it, angel?” He asks softly as he takes your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Breath hitching, you shake your head and sigh.

“I don't know why I'm scared, but I am. Osborn, he's… powerful. What if we fail? What if you get hurt?” Hobie tilts his head and chuckles, taking your hand and placing it on his chest, letting you feel the beating of his heart beneath your palm.

“Feel that? ‘S beatin’ like crazy ‘cause I'm worried too. I'm scared too. I don't wanna lose you again, after finally havin’ you in my arms after all this time.” He wraps his arms around you this time and pulls you close, so that your ear is pressed against his chest. You can hear his racing heart, feel the way his body shakes ever so slightly. Though he did a good job of masking it, he truly was terrified. Terrified of having his reunited family ripped from his fingers like a cruel joke, as though he hadn't suffered enough.

“We gotta believe we're stronger than him, lovie. ‘M gonna fight for you and the kids till my last breath. I promise you, he won't touch you while ‘m ‘ere. Never again.” Hobie whispers into your ear as his fingers tenderly graze the base of your damaged wings, making you choke back a sob. You'd fight for him. For your children, for everything. Until your last breath, no matter what. The two of you share more hushed promises and whispers of reassurance before Ned announces that it's time, the two of you walking back to where everyone else waits. Hobie squeezes your hands and moves to stand on the broken crates in front of your battalion of rebels. Everyone quiets down at the sight of him, standing up straighter and looking up at him expectantly.

“For too long, we have stood by and allowed him to do as he pleases. Too long have we had to endure as he uses us for his benefit. Too long have we watched as he shattered hopes and dreams and destroyed the very realms we work hard to keep from crumbling.” Hobie's words echo in the abandoned barn and seep into your very soul. There's a fire in those gold eyes, an inferno that begs to be unleashed.

“No more. No more will we sit idly while he rips our lives apart. No more will we agree with his outlandish rules that he claims brings peace. Norman Osborn is trying to become what he is not and never will be. A God. A God that is so twisted that he would damn innocents. So cruel that he would allow the killings of children and pregnant mothers.” Raising a fist into the air, his voice booms throughout the building, rallying the unit as they cheer and holler.

“Today, we free our realms from the oppressor! Today, we fight for the right to love, the right to live! Today, we end the snake that dares to claim he speaks for the Almighty! Today, we kill Norman Osborn!” The room erupts into cheers and yells, weapons and claws alike lifted high into the air as portals spin to life on either side of him. Your heart sings, your will strong and spirit invigorated with overwhelming morale. And as the rebels charge through the portals, Hobie takes your hand in his firmly. Sharing one last look, you both run into the portals, giving a roaring cry as you head for battle.

There's chaos all around you as you emerge, blood and bodies already littering the cloudy grounds of his throne room. The clanging of metal and the battle cries of the warriors. Rebels fighting against the ones that serve Osborn faithfully, both angel and demon alike. A scream rings in your ear as an angel charges at you, sword raised high and aimed for your chest. A blur whizzes pass you, Hobie quick to dispatch him with a thrust of his sharp nails to his chest. The angel chokes as blood spills from his lips, crimson ichor spilling onto the fluffy clouds as Hobie throws his body to the side. Something shines in the corner of your eye and you turn to see an arrow made of light aimed for Hobie's back. Brows furrowing and a snarl forming on your lips, you zip to stand in front of the arrow, divine energy crackling at your fingertips. A shield of pure light shimmers into existence in your hands, reflecting the projectile with ease. Clenching the shield in your fist, you pull your arm back and throw, the chucked weapon hitting the angel in the head hard enough to visibly dent her head in. She crumples to the ground as more charge at you, trampling over her body.

Hobie snarls as more enemies charge him from the front, body losing its shape to morph into a swarm of spiders. The spiders wriggle and scurry to morph into a frothing wolf, arachnids writhing to form eyes and a dripping maw that mauls anyone who dares get close to you. In turn, you're covering him from behind, chucking daggers and firing arrows into the hearts of those who dare to harm your demon. One has a blade too close to your neck and swiftly has teeth twisting its head off, Hobie's panther form flickering in and out of view as it lunges for another victim. The sight of a sword aiming for the demon's middle has you shooting out a hand to form a glittering sphere around the offender, fist closing tightly causing the sphere to close in on him until he's nothing but blood and gristle. There's a shout from above and you hurriedly look up as three angels rain divine beams of energy down on you two. With a swipe of your hand, a bubble appears over your heads, absorbing the energy from the blasts. The three look nervous as they see the smirk playing on your lips before you flick your wrist, a devastating beam of light incinerating the offenders. A whirlwind of spiders circle around you as more enemies try to flank you from all sides, the arachnids crawling into every orifice of the angels that they find, eating them from the inside out.

The swarm dissipates, Hobie gripping your arm and pointing to the throne. There stands Osborn, holy staff fighting off and impaling anyone who gets too close. Cold blue eyes almost white with a fury you've never seen as he grips a rebel by the face, skin melting off the bone from his touch as he pours out divine energy to maim and kill. The rebel screams as their flesh bubbles and festers, arm wildly swinging a blade to no avail. And through it all, Osborn’s holy robes remain pristine and white, untouched and unsullied.

His chilling gaze sweeps over to you then, a flicker of a smile ghosting his thin lips as he lifts his staff to point at you, hand flinging away the now still rebel. You grit your teeth as you blast an angel that gets too close to Hobie, eyes never leaving Norman as he outstretches his hand to you. A seemingly kind gesture, if these were different circumstances. But you can tell, can see nothing but the condescending mockery in his icy gaze. Your hands tremble with a mix of fear and trepidation and a glance at Hobie tells you that he's feeling it too. Fear now dissolving into fury and whips of pure light shimmering into your hands, you charge at Osborn, damaged wings flapping hard behind you. The black vortex of raging arachnids follow close behind you, the furious sound of spiders scurrying enough to raise the hair on the back of anyone's necks.

“Osborn!” Hobie roars as the spiders morph and twist into his form, eight sharp spider legs protruding from his back and mouth now adorning a pair of dripping spider fangs. His golden eyes are crimson slits of rage as he extends his claws, close by your side as you both dart towards the smirking Archangel. Osborn lifts his staff to block the cracking of your whip, letting it coil around it and yanking it so that it slips from your grasp. Gritting your teeth, you transform the whip that's still in your hand into a dagger. Hobie uses his claws to swipe at the older angel, who dodges each blow and shoots a hand out to wrench the dagger from your hands like it was magnetized. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he thrust the dagger forward, aiming for the demon's chest and furrowing his brows when his arm is suddenly covered in spiders.

Hobie's form morphs lightning quick, becoming a massive bat with gleaming fangs that viciously bites Osborn’s flesh. Snarl twisting his lips, he goes to swat him away, only for you to coil a chain around his wrist and twist it around hard. You can hear the way his bone snaps, the sound wet and making him howl with pain. He's quick to heal the broken bone, divine energy an aura around him. Heart pounding in your ears, you see Hobie form into a panther in order to rip a chunk of flesh from the angel's calf. Norman drops down to his knee before grabbing your demon by the neck, the inky black fur sizzling in his grip as the panther yowls with pain.

Energy pulses between your hands as you conjure a bow and arrow, pulling the bowstring back and releasing the glistening arrow. It sings as it flies through the air, hitting Osborn right in the hand on your love's neck. The Archangel howls as the arrow pierces his flesh, the arrowhead poking straight through the side of his palm. He lets go of Hobie with a grimace, hand shooting out a powerful gust of wind that blasts your demon several feet away from him. His injured state leaves him open and you take the opportunity to summon a glittering sword that thrums with divine energy, rushing over to him with a furious look gleaming in your eyes. Only for his whispered words to make you seize up, goosebumps breaking across your flesh.

“This is not what I envisioned for you, little dove. You must know that, yes?” Norman says with a kind smile, icy blue eyes devoid of emotion betraying his soft spoken words. Still, the nickname is enough to make you hesitate, make the memories of constantly being harassed and punished by him flood back into your mind all too quickly. Your hands shake and your breath quickens as you try to reign in the feeling of helplessness suddenly threatening to drown you. He's uttered those words plenty of times before, times where he'd lock you into a room and scar you while kissing the marks he left as punishment for not being how he wanted you to be. For not abiding by his rules. For not giving yourself to him everytime he asked. The times when he'd degrade you for failing to master things he'd teach you, yell at you while his hands dug into your scalp. It felt like walls were closing in on you and you couldn't move, your sword falling between trembling fingers as unshed tears stung your eyes.

“Y/N, look out!” Hobie's shout makes you peer up, only for a piercing scream of agony to leave your lips, your quivering wings severed and clutched in the Archangel's fist. Blood oozes down your back and seeps into your robes as you fall to the ground, writhing in pain. Teeth bared and eyes glowing bright with boiling rage, Hobie roars and lunges at Osborn, eager to wipe the sick grin off his face. Norman makes a low sound of disapproval and wags a finger at him before light bursts from his fingers, a beam of divine energy shooting the demon in his chest and leaving a gaping wound. He screams as the light sears his flesh way too close to his heart for comfort, his pained cries making your heart freeze with fear. Your screams of terror for your love almost being killed turns into a roar of white hot wrath that practically boils you from the inside out.

You're a blur of fury as you roll onto your knees and shoot a ray of sparkling light at Norman's thigh, the beam searing his skin and leaving a bloodied hole. You shoot another at his shoulder as you jump to your feet, then another to his side. Wrath incarnate, you litter him full of holes, divine rays leaving chunks of his flesh to drip onto his throne. And as he stumbles back to trip on his self-made throne of gold and ivory, you summon your sword back into your hands. With one last shout, you thrust the weapon deep into his middle, crimson ichor seeping into the white fabric of his robes. Blood and roses scent the air as the fighting of the rebels cease, all eyes watching as Osborn looks into the face of his once highly adored angel.

“F-Filthy sinner”, the dying Osborn says with an astounded chuckle, spitting blood onto your face as it bubbles up his throat and spills past his pale lips. Your chest heaves as you look down at the Archangel, your severed wings still tight in his grip. Blood splatters onto his robe as he coughs, blue eyes radiating malice and contempt as he sneers at you.

“You could have had it all. If you'd been obedient and joined me. I could've reached true Godhood with an angel so pure and bright as you on my arm, in my corner. Now you're nothing but defiled waste.” His strained words almost make you want to laugh and you tilt your head at him, something akin to pity shining in your eyes as you twist the sword deeper.

“You're a fool, Norman. A fool to think you could get away with hurting those I love. Where's all your faith now, when you need it most? Clearly not giving you any strength right now.” You mumble before chuckling and letting the sword dissipate into a flutter of sparkles. There's a low rumble of a growl behind you, little barks that sound close to a laugh. A hyena's laugh.

“This is what happens when you try to play God and disrupt the balance of things.” Is what you mumble as you feel a massive presence looming over your shoulder. Osborn trembles at the sight of the creature behind you, prayers to the Almighty stumbling between his blood speckled lips as he holds out a shaking hand for mercy. You have none to give and neither does the growling form of Hobie, his massive hyena form black and dripping with an inky mist that spreads a terrifying shadow. Drool dribbles from his mouth as he licks at his chops, maw open and ear flicking. Patting your demon's furry cheek, you lean down towards the frightened Osborn, lips near his ear.

“The Almighty hath forsaken thee, High Priest”, you whisper in his ear before stepping back, watching as the hyena stalks forward, the sinister laugh of the creature making the fallen Archangel whimper. Norman begs and pleads for mercy and forgiveness, none that are afforded to him as Hobie descends upon him. Sharp teeth tearing at flesh and snapping bones, claws ripping apart organs and gore dribbling down the throne. And as you watch Hobie devour him whole bones and all, you're suddenly called into a void of white. Eyes frantically looking about, you're shocked at the looming silhouette of an entity gazing down at you. It's massive and towers higher than any mountain you'd ever seen. The entity bows its head in respect, in thanks before you're suddenly forced back into your body with a shaking gasp.

Body shaking and back arching, you cry out as you feel something pushing forth from your back, your spine. It feels like you'll explode if you don't let it out, your eyes rolling as it sprouts free from it's confines. Stumbling and shaking your head to clear the dizziness, your chest heaves before you feel something familiar. A weight that had been missing for years. Hobie's next to you then, wriggling spiders shaping him into his normal form once again. The hole in his chest is slowly closing up, the energy he got from devouring Osborn healing him. His eyes are wide as he looks at you in awe.

“Lovie… Your wings..!” His words make your heart soar with hope and you quickly wrap them around yourself in order to look at them, the action second nature even after seemingly loosing them. A gasp leaves your lips as you look at what has sprouted from you. Large glittering wings that sparkle. As you move them, the feathers switch between a pristine white to a shimmering black, then back again. Any time you moved a certain way, the color changed. And inside your heart, you know who the entity was.

Everything that happens next is a blur to you then, you who were exhausted from the draining battle. The remaining Archangels that sided with Osborn are locked up, plans to give them a chance at repentance being discussed. Ned, Serenity and Riri talk with the rebel angels in their King’s stead, negotiating terms of peace and planning clean up crews on earth. Hobie pulls you into an embrace that seems to make your knees weak, exhaustion making your bones ache as you sag against him. It was finally over. Osborn couldn't hurt you or Hobie or your children anymore. Your love lifts you into his arms, carrying you over to the swirling portal that led to your new home, where your children await. Where, after a century of waiting, your life with Hobie can finally be resumed.

[eirenical]

Like Father, Unlike Son (3168 words) by eirenical

Written for the @mysteriouslotuscasebookweek prompts "Role Reversal" (Day 2) and "Grief" (Day 4).

Rating: Explicit

Summary: In the wake of Shan Gudao's return, Li Lianhua is left broken and listless, nothing like his usual self. Fang Duobing is willing to do anything to bring him back, even if it means pretending, just for one night, to be someone he's not... someone he hopes he'll never become.

The yard was silent, the kind of silence that descends in the wake of a storm. Fang Duobing would have filled that space with noise, laughter, anything but this quiet stillness that Shan Gudao had left in his wake. But Li Lianhua stood barely two steps away, holding himself so very carefully, as though too large a breath might break every bone in his rib cage.

~Li Xiangyi is, indeed, a joke.~

Fang Duobing's first instinct had been to defend, to deny, to wipe those words from existence the moment Li Lianhua had spoken them. But Li Lianhua had been standing oh so carefully then, too, as though some part of him had already broken beyond repair, and a harsh word could wipe him from existence along with his words. Fang Duobing wondered, for the first time, if he was finally, truly, seeing Li Xiangyi before him—or what little was left of him after first his shixiong's death and then the battle at the Eastern Sea had taken everything from him. For the first time, he began to see what might have driven him to put himself away so thoroughly and become Li Lianhua. Faced with what he'd been faced with, Fang Duobing might have done the same.

Gently, he said, "He's gone. Why don't we go inside?"

Li Lianhua didn't answer, simply turned back the way they'd come from and took one shuffling step after another. At the threshold, he stumbled, foot catching on the raised doorway when he didn't lift it high enough. Fang Duobing caught him, gripping his arm above the elbow and pulling him close to keep him upright.

His body was shaking, a fine tremor that Fang Duobing hadn't been able to see but could feel now that they were pressed so close. "Li Lianhua?"

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Tags, detailed warnings, and notes below the cut.

November 4, 2024: At this point, I think I just need to accept the fact that my niche in this fandom is "fucked up and ill-advised sex that probably at least hints at Daohua somewhere in the background." 😅 Anyway, ever since I saw the scene where Shan Gudao reveals himself to Fang Duobing and Li Lianhua, I've wanted to write a fic where Li Lianhua turns to Fang Duobing for some very ill-advised comfort after that and lets himself pretend, just this once, that Fang Duobing is actually Shan Gudao. Brain decided today was the day? Enjoy? 😁👍👍

Fic Warnings: This is a little bit of a YMMV situation. The sex that happens in this fic is 100% consensual on both sides, but Fang Duobing is essentially role playing as his father and there is ZERO negotiation before that happens and, knowing Li Lianhua, they're not going to discuss it afterwards, either. Fang Duobing does have a little bit of a frantic moment where he's basically thinking "…this is kind of fucked up, isn't it? Maybe we should talk about it first? OK, never mind, lower brain just took over and made the decision for me." But he's still very much on board with what's going on and they both enjoy it in the end. But this is some VERY tangled relationship shit going on and if that squicks you, you might want to give this one a miss.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 莲花楼 | Mysterious Lotus Casebook (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Fang Duobing, Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi

Additional Tags: mentions of - Freeform, Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi - Freeform, Di Feisheng/Fang Duobing/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi - Freeform, Past, Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi/Shan Gudao - Freeform, Under-negotiated Kink, Light BDSM, Sexual Roleplay, Unrequited Love, Established Relationship, Episode Related, episode 32, Missing Scene, Trauma, Dealing with Trauma in Less Than Healthy Ways, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, ill-advised sex, Healing Sex, (...yes it's the same sex; make of that what you will XD), Mysterious Lotus Casebook Week 2024

[time-woods]

On the subject of Sidus (which keyboard do you use to get that dash over the i?)

What's his whole deal anyway? Most of what I know is he is a magic user (smoke or clouds are an accent but haven't seen his actual abilities beyond floating...I think.) And he is working against the crown in favor of magic users.

So what are his abilities?

Are there others helping him?

What's his weekday or Saturday look like?

Basically, I'm hoping for a ramble. But share what you like.

( im just using my basic pc keyboard so everytime i need to spell his name i just end up copy n pasting it from my docs))

so yes he is a supposed magic user- he likes to say hes 'a wizard of the sky' which is not entirely false, but thats not the whole of it either. hes against the crown yes, but that kingdom isnt the only one- its just one of many, but other kingdoms are a lot more accepting of magic users- this one just got beef with em. But Sīdus is more freeform- he thinks the kingdom should be knocked down a few but hes not specifically going outta his way to do so unless the opportunity shows itself.

(i have this on his ref sheet that ill b posting later today)) but one of his abilities is creation ! its limited of course but hes able to cut out these small squares of paper he keeps with him into various things and then make them real ! (theyre never quite right/ how youd expect but they get the job done)) they take some time and imagination though but other than that hes seen to have 'regenerative' (?) magic in a way, that can patch him up. also he greatly benefits from doing magic outside- or at least having a clear view of it, so enclosed spaces make doing magic a bit more exhausting for him- the skys not a source of his magic but it does help especially with his floaty abilities (thats why he ended up just having to leg it when he was being chased by carma- the whole kingdom is enclosed so theres really no view of the sky- and using his magic to get away before hand really tired him out))

a weekend for him is the same as any other day, he gets to do whatever he wants really ! hes a free guy and hes gonna live that like, and occasionally help people if he can, i feel like hes well known in most magic villages- everybodys pal ! though he doesnt stick in one place long- he'll eventually visit again but he doesnt like being stuck somewhere, he always wants to be on the move, experiencing everything life can give him !

[adracat]

Law of Casuality Write-Up (Pt.1?)

Warning!!: the following contains self-indulgence to the likes you’ve never seen before

Law of Causality: The proposition that everything in the universe has a cause and is thus an effect of that cause

Happy Sulemio week! Since it’s Fantasy Day, I decided to finally get cracking on this freeform analysis of my G-Witch series— Law of Causality. I’ve mentioned before this may be my favorite thing I’ve ever written. I was in a manic ADHD-fixation trance while writing this series. If you want the literary version of a triple-layer myth cake, this may be for you. I was considering an essay-style dissection but that’s taking too long. So here are my loose insights into this series as a whole!

Art by my friend Tay, or @TaruhtQarineXiV on Twitter

As Above, So Below: Where it all began. I’ve mentioned in the A/Ns that this was spawned from my deep looks into what the show was taking inspiration from (imo). It’s my little love letter to Sulemio and gwitch, which quickly grew into something more.

Queen in White/King in Red—Beyond the alchemy, I wanted titles that sounded fairytale-esque while also hinting toward another mythos. Hastur or the King in Yellow (Signalis and True Detective enjoyers know that name) The initial King in Yellow appears in Haïta the Shepherd as the benevolent god of shepherds; a domain Hastur shares with Mercury. The short story is about the impermanence of happiness and how it can only be found once you stop seeking it. It’s a theme I ran with for the entirety of LoC, particularly Elnora. The later incarnations of Hastur are malicious eldritch figures. Suletta vs Prospera 😊

On Faerytales: LoC is obsessed with cycles and the rhyming of history. To me, fairytales embody that perfectly. The oral traditions of them are never the exact same, flavored with variations throughout the years. It’s how we got mythology to local folklore to Brothers Grimm to Disney renditions. That’s why I used Eros and Psyche and Sleeping Beauty for Suletta and Miorine (I’m convinced the show does this too but ymmv)

The latter is inspired by the former with Psyche placed under a sleeping torpor Eros breaks. In Sleeping Beauty, the offending curse is a spindle and she’s barricaded by a witch in the form of a dragon. The Hawthorn serves as Mio’s ‘spindle’ as she suffers depression and isolation in the wake of her mother’s vanishing. Prospera (coded as witch Satan) is the dragon. Notrette is the fairies bearing gifts. In a twist, Suletta wakes her with Love as Anteros in the place of Eros. Yes I layered this cake excessively. It’s probably still confusing; I’m sorry.

Tldr; I used Sleeping Beauty alongside Greek myth.

Chaos and Night: Paradise Lost twisted into a toxic witch romance. One of the most insane ideas I’ve had, but I adore it to bits. Both Prospera and Notrette are vested to the teeth with mythology and theology.

Notrette: Besides Thelema’s Nuit/Babalon and cuing her as ‘God’, as a being of creation, opposed to the Devil, I fit so much into her character. She’s Lilith, Pandora, Circe, Ceres, Virgin Mary, the Morrigan, Ariadne, a deconstruction of the Mother Goddess from neopaganism, and the capricious Queen of Elphame from folklore.

Another figure I styled her after is White Boann, the Dagda’s mistress and wife to Nechtan (cognate with Nuada or the silver-hand) which is where you get the hazel tree link. Boann names her son Aengus because the Dagda was her ‘one desire’.

Circling back to Paradise Lost, she also plays the willing Eve who falls to Satan’s temptation in place of Miorine. There’s likely things I’m forgetting; I was so normal plotting her character.

Elnora: What can I say about this glorious wreck that wasn’t in the text? Venus, The red dragon Satan, the Beast from revelation, pagan Horned God, Neptune to Ceres, Theseus and Bacchus to Ariadne, Prometheus to Pandora, every Phosphoros, etc I’d be here all day. She’s coded as Orion the hunter who’s undone by Gaia and also the Teumessian fox to Suletta’s Laelaps. I mentioned she’s the riders of the apocalypse at the end too. White Rider is Suletta but her mom fulfills the rest; ‘Riding’ Vim as War, Riding Belmeria as Famine while wielding the ‘scales’ (Notrette as Libra) Finally, she wears the visage of death to bring Pestilence to the kingdom. I squeezed in the other omens of revelation with symbolism such as the crown of wormwood (Revelation 8:11)

When it comes to her role as Prometheus, I coded both Delling and Mio as birds of Venus (swallow and dove respectfully.) It’s meant to symbolize the ‘eagle’ devouring her was primarily herself all along. She was the architect of her ruin, lampshaded by Notrette from the beginning.

Remember Haïta the Shepherd? In the story, there is a maiden whom embodies the ephemeral nature of happiness. Notrette is Elnora’s transformative destruction into cathartic acceptance/happiness. In Paradise Lost, Satan succeeds at banishing Eve and Adam from the garden but similarly fails when he’s turned into a snake. She’s lucky I was more metaphorical.

I liberally used Revelation 12, the woman and the dragon, as well. Look at me shipping crackships from the Bible. This is mostly self-explanatory, ofc Christ is genderbent and a role shared by Sulemio. Mio’s allergy to iron doubles as a nod to this, since she doesn’t take her father’s kingdom in this universe.

There is more, such as Dionysis/Bacchus being a many-faced god with younger and older versions paralleling the Horned God’s dual aspects and the Dagda’s relationship to Aengus which led to me pitting Suletta as a lighter mirror of Elnora. But I’ll leave it here for now.

Writing this all out has me questioning what I was on, and how I can reproduce it. If you got this far, thank you for humoring my unabahed love for this world. Happy Fantasy Day, Sulemios! ❤️

[kiyomitakada]

This is for research, Light reasons. Curiosity. He’s been on plenty of Kira fanwebsites; it makes sense to conduct an impromptu survey on how he’s seen in a rather different audience.

Research.

He holds his breath and clicks.

Title: got so close (but then you lost it) Rating: E Category: F/F Fandom: Kira Investigation RPF, how the fuck is that a canon tag Ship: L/Kira Tags: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Object and Concept Anthropomorphism, i think kira should take the L for once, if you know what i mean - Freeform

Notes: hahahahahaa hiiiii yall bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. its been a couple of rough months but im back! if my therapist sees this uh. sorry? this counts as processing my feelings right

Maybe Light should stop. Surely a work written by someone who doesn't even use apostrophes or punctuation consistently can't be good quality. Besides, what is a work about a serial killer doing in the E rating? Doesn't that mean E for Everyone?

…Then again, it's not like he's reading this for its literary value, he reasons. It's just. Research. Curiosity. If it's really bad, maybe he can make fun of it with Ryuk.

Kira throws the doors of the final room open. Her voice rings out loud and clear: "Where are you, L? Hiding like a coward?" She receives no answer. Kira exhales, brushing her free hand against her T-shirt. There's no need to hurry. She has all the time in the world; the alarms are disabled and she's killed all the guards, after all. Tracking down L's hidden compound had been the difficult part. It was easier than pie to break in. At last, she thinks, this will be her perfect victory.

Oh god. Oh god, someone put effort into this. Light doesn't know whether to be flattered or horrified.

(Why can he hear this in his voice?)

The control room is silent but for the humming of thousands of monitors mounted on the walls, all displaying static now thanks to Kira's interference. "I know you're there, L," Kira says, taking one step forward. Then another. "You can't hide from me forever." "You're right," says a new voice. "I wasn't hiding in the first place." Kira turns towards it, gripping her scythe in one hand—

"My what," Light says aloud.

—and nearly gasps when she identifies the source: the large L painted on the back wall. Her mind whirls. Another recording, just like the one a million people had heard from the TV that day. L's hiding behind an image again. "Very funny," Kira says. She's blocked all the escape routes; the real L must be in this room somewhere. "Show yourself." "As you wish." And then the painted L peels off the wall. Kira jumps back despite herself. The scythe clatters to the ground. The L is just a few centimeters taller than her, a fact that Kira instinctively resents, and it's the same font as what Kira had seen on television: the smooth vertical curve, the jagged angle, the protrusions from the spine. Her heartbeat quickens. Kira, despite being a magical girl—

"I'm a what?!"

—is ultimately still human. This… thing is decidedly not.

"Why am I the human one," Light mutters. She — he hasn't quite gotten the hang of this 'archive' yet, but he's searching for ones where he has wings later.

"What are you?" Kira asks, trying to flatten the tremble in her voice. "I am L," says L. "And I'm a girl, just like you." "You're a letter," Kira says. "An alive letter." "I wasn't always this way," L says. Its — her? — voice is matter-of-fact. "But it was… easier." "Easier to what?" "Tell me, Kira," L says. "Do you ever feel… uncomfortable in your own skin? Do you ever feel like you were born to be something else, something greater, something beyond your original form? Do you ever feel like you died a very long time ago?" Kira swallows, and stays silent. "Well, it doesn't matter," L dismisses. "It's far too late for you to change." "It's too late for anyone to change," Kira corrects. "You've seen recidivism rates. Criminals are rotten all the way to the core."

"That's not right," Light mumbles. Kira isn't just trying to get rid of all evil people in society; Kira is trying to scare everyone into being better. Of course behavior can be changed, corrected. What's the point of a new world if people can't improve on themselves?

…Then again. Light can't help but agree, just a little. Some people are beyond help.

(They have to be. Otherwise, why would the Death Note have dropped into her life?)

(She's doing the world a favor, honestly.)

"And what about me?" "Huh?" "Am I," and L leans in further, the serif tail at the top of the letter almost brushing Kira's cheek, "rotten to the core?" "I…" In an attempt to tear her gaze away from L, Kira finds herself tracing the lines of the letter with her eyes: the mathematically perfect arcs of her back interrupted by those sharp spikes of decoration. She feels herself oddly compelled to touch them.

Light pointedly does not think about the real L's hair.

What is she doing? Kira shakes her head, snapping out of her reverie, and dives for the scythe. Her fingers wrap around it just as she crashes into L's two-dimensional feet and L folds like a blanket, covering her in unexpected warmth before Kira scrambles back to her feet. "Monster," she shouts, pointing the scythe decisively, "I see you thus and I name you L!"

Well. That explains the magical girl thing. In retrospect, it does make more aesthetic sense than the notebook.

The scythe sparks; a beam of light bursts from its tip and — Stops. Kira watches in horror as it fizzes into nothing. A low chuckle fills the room. Something hot surges in Kira's chest: fury. "A bit difficult to conduct your magic when I have no face, isn't it," L says. She's shifted to lounge languidly on the floor, rather than sprawled awkwardly across it. "That's not — fair! Just looking at you should be enough!" "The world isn't fair, my dear Kira," L says. "As I'm sure you know best." Kira's free hand clenches into a fist. There's nothing for it. She's going to have to strangle this letter-girl. She's going to have to stop her breath at its root. "Well, Kira? What are you going to—" Kira drops the scythe and pounces. L twists away too late; Kira is already on her, one foot hooked over the bottom stroke of the letter to prevent her from running, her hands straining towards the juncture between L’s serif and vertical curve. L is so very warm, almost searing under Kira’s fingers as they close around her throat. L groans. The heat in Kira’s chest abruptly changes directions to pool in her stomach. It occurs to her distantly that if L can’t be counted as having a face, it’s entirely possible that she doesn’t need to breathe, either. Kira can’t bring herself to care. Here L is, her worst enemy, completely under Kira’s thumb — the exhilaration leaves Kira’s throat dry. "What do you think of that, L?" She tightens her grip. L makes a choked sound; the two lines of the letter’s throat shudder beneath Kira’s fingers. "You like that?" "Please," L gasps, "I need—" "Use your words," Kira hisses. Curiosity drives her to slide a finger into the crack between the two lines that make up L’s vertical stroke, and to her vicious delight L whimpers. "Come on, L, what do you want?" "Keep doing that," L says. The cool voice from the public broadcast, rendered into shreds. Kira desperately wants her to shut up forever. She unconsciously shifts her weight against L’s bottom stroke, hungry for friction. "Oh god, Kira, I…" "Yeah?" Kira wedges a second finger in, and has to bite her lip to stifle a moan when L bucks against her. "I dreamed about this," L manages, low like a confession. "Dreamed about y

"Light, Sayu! Time for dinner!"

Light slams her laptop shut so quickly she thinks she sprains a finger.

"Coming!" She yells downstairs, wincing at how out of breath she sounds.

Jesus fucking Christ. What was that? Why did she keep reading?

And. And wait. She? No, he. Light’s a he, no matter what weird people on the internet think, the same way L isn’t actually a letter. Right. She must have just gotten confused.

…He must have just gotten confused. Obviously.

(Something in Light’s ribcage pangs.)

He wills the blood away from his cheeks. He shouldn’t be surprised, frankly. Light is perfectly aware there’s porn of everything on the internet, even if it is marked E for Everyone.

…Wait.

Light opens his laptop again, scrolls as fast as he can to the top, then hovers over the E.

Oh. Ohhhh. Well. How was he supposed to know, he sulks. There should be a huge banner proclaiming THERE’S SEX IN THIS FAN FICTION for ease of access to first-time users. The world is truly rotting.

"Light?"

"On my way!"

Light shuts his laptop again, more gently this time, and opens the door.

Do you ever feel like you died a long time ago?

It is far too easy to imagine L’s mouth moving around the words.

Light closes her eyes against it. What a ridiculous question.

She can hear Ryuk’s laughter the whole way down.

[ @deathnotetober day 9: crack ship ]

[loki-zen]

like i think a lot of stupid bullshit about dating and men and women and beyond (for instance dynamics in female dominated spaces or in spaces dominated by norms that developed in such) is all ultimately the fault of ‘Give Him A Chance’ culture

it’s like we internalised when we were young that we weren’t allowed to simply make decisions about who we wanted to be close to and we certainly weren’t allowed to set boundaries with them in a freeform way so it became necessary to make any reason we might not want to hang out with someone an Objective Sign of Badness that is sexist or something else-ist or a red flag - a reason why no reasonable person could possibly be expected to want to hang with them, because if it was just what we wanted and how we felt we don’t expect anyone to listen or take that seriously

[gigglemugger]

The Naked and the Blind (or The Ballad of Meg Halsey).

Fandom: Re-Animator (Movies - Combs), Herbert West - Reanimator - H.P. Lovecraft.

Pairing: Herbert West/Meg Halsey

Rating: Explicit, or at the very least Mature.

Archive Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Synopsis:

"Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that." Meg Halsey is perfect: Beautiful, accomplished, a bright future doctor. She escaped her hometown and moved to New York, where she likely would have stayed forever. After her mother dies, though, she is forced to move back to Arkham and face everything she wanted to leave behind. --- A.K.A I made a tumblr post about how Crampton/Combs are romantically involved in all of their collabs, got replies and decided to write down a suggestion of "what if Meg was the protagonist, not Dan?" Also I did the cop-out summary thing and pasted the first paragraph of the fic. It's highway robbery. Criminal (I'm sorry).

Thanks to @resonanteye and @sugarsweetnightmareee for helping me shape this up in the replies!

Word Count: Multi Chapter, so far 2,561 published, 19,701 written at the time of publication.

Chapter Count: 1/? (likely 9).

AO3 Tags: I uhhh......... I have no idea what I made it started with one tumblr post then one reply and here we are, I included other works by Lovecraft here and rounded Arkham up and then ran, Character Study, In a way, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Dan Cain, he doesn't exist, Danbert shippers cry I get it, Canon-Typical Violence, Animal Death, Eventual Romance, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Eventual Smut?, maybe? - Freeform, this fic is an affront to god just like herbert's reagent, Not Beta Read.

Language: English.

CW: Meg went through some trauma. Dead parents, dead cat. She also helps kill her dad later on, considering, so. It's a heavy fic, but if you liked the movie you'll be fine.

AO3 link.

AO3 Notes (yes, they're huge, bear with me): This is an AU about Meg Halsey. I always wanted to write this because in every single Combs/Crampton collaboration, they play lovers (Castle Freak, From Beyond, the Evil Clergyman) EXCEPT FOR in Reanimator, so I made a tumblr post saying I'd like to explore a Meg/Herbert thing solely because of that (and I've only seen it being done one other time, which made me wanna take a personal shot at it). This post was WAY more popular than I expected (it didn't hit the hundreds, but it hit like 20+ notes when I expected like 1 and it being a comment of "are you insane?" with nothing else), so I decided to take it seriously. Then someone suggested I make a version where Meg is the main character, no Dan, no nothing and I thought that was a really interesting idea and ran with it.  I made several notes (like four pages) about Meg's character and realized that she’s an amazing, incredibly accomplished ball of air. They made her have good instincts, a good brain, be helpful, be sweet, and then gave her zero personality. This isn’t her movie, so the first thing I did in this AU was scramble around with her brains and give her a will to live for something. The second thing I did was to scramble around with her brains enough so she’d have ambition.  The third one was to scramble around with her brains enough she’d have a crush on West—who is her equal here. I'm not saying this relationship won't go into some toxic patterns, but so does Danbert, though I understand the implications. It's more like a double edged sword, though.  When I say this is an AU, I mean it’s an AU for sure. I changed a lot of plot points, and switched things around, because it turns out that having Meg as a protag changes a lot on its own. I personally think that Herbert liked Dan for three reasons: He was beautiful, smart and incredibly gullible. Here he likes Meg because she's smart, ambitious and much more like him than others would think. She doesn't take bullshit, though. Scenes are maintained but go different directions, etc. Meg also went through trauma and transformation, which will be unpacked, and though she externally acts like the Meg we know, most of the time, she's not. She had like a Veronica Mars esque transformation, minus the REAL TRAGEDIES of Veronica Mars.  I decided to name this a ballad cause I always name things ballads and start with the definition of the word cause I’m pretentious and like to make it seem as if it’s not ‘cause of the ballad of John and Yoko. In this case, though, I decided to just call it the ballad of Meg Halsey, instead of the ballad of Herbert and Meg, or Halsey and West, because this fanfic is very much about Meg—she deserves it.  The Naked and the Blind comes from that line from Every Me Every You by Placebo (like the naked leads the blind, I know I’m selfish, I’m unkind). It felt fitting. I also included two characters of Lovecraft lore which will be useful throughout the fic (and possible sequel in which I take the bones of bride of reanimator and completely reshape it), Asenath Waite and Edward Derby, from The Thing on the Doorstep. I also mention the Pickmans, Necronomicons, all of that. I think I'm going to use Welsey as a ship name for now, though I'm sure someone else somewhere in the world has already come up with a ship name for them. I also named the Playlist I made for them this. Very normal behavior.  I have seven chapters written, almost at the end of the fic as a whole, and I’ll try to upload one every Monday. We’ll see.

1. Sucker love is heaven sent.

Meg Halsey had a problem. In fact, she had several problems, the first of which, she acknowledges while looking at her semi empty living room, is that she can't afford to live alone anymore. The second one is that she doesn't wanna go back to her daddy's house again. This would be an inconceivable notion to her thirteen year old self, even her sixteen year old self, but at twenty five, she'd really choose living under the bridge first. Ok. Maybe not that.

Here's a picture of Meg Halsey's life one year ago: A happy medical student in New York, with her own room and roommate at one of the dorm houses. Not a sorority girl like her mother gushed about her being when she was twelve, but still friendly towards everyone. Her hair was a little shorter, less gruffy, definitely bobbed, and she probably looked serene. Medical students aren't by definition serene, but she hadn't majorly fucked up. She got high grades, was the second best in her class which was full of men, and she was proud of herself.

Then her mother died. The rest was probably history, or easily deductible.

Savings had existed, but living in Arkham was more expensive than she remembered. Her dad wanted to pay for the house, but she refused because she knew what that entailed. He also wanted her to move back with him, but that would also mean other things: You don't need to pay rent, but you'll have to cook, clean, take care of affairs and be your mother. She was shocked he hadn't sent for her when she was dying, but then it had been so fast that maybe he didn't have the time.

“Don't worry daddy, it's OK,” she had said with a smile, eyeing the wine. She couldn't drink in front of him unless it was a special occasion, like a thirteen year old. “I'm just gonna have to find a roommate.”

It had been a week ago, at that house that smelled of death. Wood, carpets of history, several footprints of doctors, her mother and all the versions of herself.

I wish I could have that drink…

“Hmm…” Yes. The characteristic Dean Halsey “Hm.” The same he had for his employees when he needed to convince them of something. Here we go… “I'm not sure it's safe for you to invite a stranger into your house, Meggie.”

“I had a stranger in my house, remember? My roommate in college.” A nice girl, who never got into trouble, she had told her mother in her semi-weekly calls, which was a lie. Becca was a protester who was always in and out of jail because of fights with the cops. Still, that meant Meg had quiet nights to study, or contemplate the lights on in places that hadn't been Arkham.

“I still don't know about that, sweetheart. Maybe you should move back in for a while…”

“Are you alright, honey?” Her mother's voice resonated in her head. Last phone call before disaster. She remembered the clothes she had been wearing: Light sweater, jeans, boots. A Meg Halsey classic. She remembered it was raining and that two people went behind her, two guys, talking. There was a light breeze from the door and they were gone.

“I'm alright, mom. You?”

“Meg,” Dr. Harrod said. Hospital. Residence. Meg was holding onto her scalpel too tightly. “Maybe you need a break.”

“I'm fine.”

Another picture of Meg Halsey’s life: Prodigy. Brilliant. Bright smile, beautiful blue eyes. She was a perfect specimen of what you would call a girl: Polite, traditional, good. She never stayed out past eight, she never went with boys that much, she never strayed from her studies. She wanted to be whatever her dad thought was best, whatever her mother thought would make her proud.

Meg had goals and ambitions, sure, but she also wanted other things. She watched her parents at the table, while cutting her meat. They were always smiling, laughing easily. All of it. She wanted it all. She even thought she had met a boy, her last high school boyfriend, traditional all the way, very nice and Christian upper middle class. Then…

The television was on, showing the news and Meg bit her lip. She looked at her nails, looked at the carpet and then at her cat, roaming around. “I'm not even going to have money to feed you at this rate,” she said when her beloved Rufus came to her lap. She put her face on his back gently. “God…”

Not turning back to the house, she'd have to find a roommate, one that she wouldn't be afraid would murder her in her sleep. Maybe she needed some coffee. Maybe she needed a million dollars.

She looked at the clock on the wall, the one that looked like Felix the cat, which she had in her bedroom at ten. The eyes went back and forth, freaking her mother out. It still had the stain of when she tried to paint it pink with glitter nail polish. Most importantly, it told her it was almost time to leave. Harrod would be going up and down looking for her and she had morgue duty, which was surely a lot for her muscles and she didn't look forward to it—morgue duty being that now it was the norm that someone else other than the attending intern doctor take the body downstairs, after an incident occurred (no more was mentioned about such an incident).

She wouldn't let her colleagues say she was using her status as the Dean's daughter to get out of good honest work.

However, she would have to look at Hill… He was always there testing his weird pen…

“Ouch!” She shrieked, looking at her hand and seeing the blood. “Oh, Rufus, get off!” Rufus did so, apparently understanding he shouldn't bite her and that she'd be rightfully pissed. She had to admit it was effective in bringing her back to the scene, though. It was a documentary which aired now, about a fishing town with a strange, rare disease. She had heard about it, and should be more interested considering, but frankly all she wanted was that coffee and a shower.

It was a pleasant afternoon in Arkham, her birth city. A strange city to be brought up in, with a deep history of the occult, but with a pristine, ivy league college in the form of the Miskatonic University. Meg stepped out of her car, chilly. She was wearing boots, a sweater and her hair was up. It was getting longer. Her dad almost went insane when she wanted to leave Arkham for New York, especially for medicine if she so insisted on studying that.

“A more womanly course would be interesting…”

“What's more womanly than curing people? Than being a healer?” Her mother waved her hand.

“I'm just not sure, Meg. Your dad thinks the same… Maybe it'd be best…”

“Would you have gone if you could? If you could do anything, would you? I can. I wanna go to New York.”

Every time in the past few months that she felt the air of the hospital wafting on her, sterilized and reminiscent of all the times she went to visit her dad, it was sort of like defeat. Not that she'd let that bring her down. She did go to New York after all. It was temporary, just until her dad got back on her feet.

Until he met someone, Becca said. A hot, pretty new thing to screw.

“Halsey,” Harrod said, standing by reception. Was she waiting? “Right on time. You need to go to 106, now. A patient just died, you need to take her down.”

At least she wasn't the one who killed her. Hooray for small miracles.

Scrubs became her, she thought—not that having vain thoughts was her hallmark—but they were not better than suits by a mile. She felt extremely underdressed in a second, walking into the morgue, at least compared to the austere, small man checking the beakers.

“Meg?” The man raised his head. The second man, being the corpse, stayed thankfully very still. “What are you doing here?”

“Pushing a body?” She laughed a little, to make things light, but she knew she had been busted. A few years ago it'd be unprecedented to go behind his back on anything, but now... Besides, it wasn't drugs, it was just a dead guy for Christ's sake.

He looked concerned right away.

“You're too small to be doing this kind of work. You'll kill yourself.”

“Honestly daddy—” she could feel the ears of the stranger perking up at that. Great going, Meg. Tell every single stranger about it. “It's fine. I can do it.” He paused and pursed his lips.

“Certainly one of your classmates…”

“I said I'm alright,” she smiled a little towards him, to mitigate any disrespect, before turning her attention completely to the left. “Who are you?” The small man looked up from a tag in one of the corpses.

“Oh, don't mind me. I'm sure I don't wanna interrupt family.” Her dad wouldn't pick up on the sarcasm, Meg knew, but she did. Her shoulders tensed, her eyes narrowed.

“Nonsense,” Dean Halsey began, well humored. “Mr. West, I'd like to introduce you to the most brilliant medical student in this room…” She looked away.

“Stop it, dad,” Meg smiled her brightest smile to hide her discomfort, as usual. West smiled back, in contempt.

“Oh, does she have a name?”

“I'm Megan. Halsey.” She didn't bother stretching her hand, she didn't wanna touch him.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Halsey.” I don't think so.

“West just came from Switzerland. He was doing independent research for Dr. Gruber, before he died.” Meg knew the story, heard it through the grapevine, but no one knew any details.

Gruber was a brilliant doctor, though. She had read his most recent paper on brain death, and all the other ones he wrote a lot in New York. A page turner, Gruber—by medical paper standards, at least.

“So, you studied death?” She asked. His ears perked up again.

“Yes, I have.” Well dressed, prim and curt. Fun. I'll love having him in class.

“Alan,” a third voice filled the place, coming from the adjacent room, the one where he no doubt had been procuring a corpse from. Meg involuntarily twisted her nose and pretended she had an itch. She stopped on his feet. “Nice to see you down here, Ms. Halsey.”

“Well I'm glad, cause here I am, every Tuesday.” Next time tell him when you go out to do your laundry.

“Definitely more than your father comes down here. We haven't been seeing him in a while.”

“I was just showing our newest student, Herbert West here, the not-so-grand-tour.” He always made that joke when he brought people down. Meg saw him do it at least twice and heard about it four other ones. “This should interest you, Carl. He worked with Hans Gruber.” While her dad introduced Hill, and all of his prowess to get research grants somehow, probably with that freaky pen he carried, Meg was thinking briefly about how was Herbert West working for Gruber, fully, even as a student.

“I know your work Dr. Hill. Quite well.” Meg raised her head. “Your theory on the location of the will in the brain is… Interesting, though derivative of Dr. Gruber's research in the early 70s.”

She knew that. She needed a dictionary to read his most obscure work, but German and English were similar enough, she got by.

“So derivative, in fact, that in Europe it's considered plagiarized. And your support of the 12 minute limit on the life of the brain stem after death…”

“...Six to twelve minutes, Mr…?”

Meg wanted to leave.

“West. Herbert West. Frankly, Dr… Hill? Your work on brain death is outdated.”

“Carl,” her dad interrupted and Meg looked away from the scene. Frankly, Hill gave her the creeps, sort of, and seeing him that angry was unpleasant. Suck it up, ok? You know him since you were at least twelve, it's fine.

You were always soft.

“...Megan and I would love it if you came to dinner.” Wait what?

“What?” She repeated out loud. Herbert turned his bright hazel, poisonous eyes towards her. She straightened her back. “I'm sorry, dinner? When?

“Thursday,” West answered for the others. He put his hands on his hips. “Maybe pushing bodies around really isn't for someone as small as you, Ms. Halsey.”

“I'm fine.”

“You might kill yourself.”

“Dad, dinner, Thursday? I'm not sure I can make it.”

What else are you gonna do? Your friends don't talk to you anymore since you left for New York to hang out with feminists, artists, and bohemians, leaving them here with babies and husbands.

“Well, I'm sure you'll make an exception,” Hill said, looking straight at her. “A lovely, amazing student such as yourself should take some time off every now and then. Celebrate.” She hated when he looked straight at her. She could feel her dad and West observing in the sidelines.

“Sure,” Meg found herself saying, hands tight against the steel of the gurney, knuckles turning white. “I'll cook.”

You'll what?!

“Fantastic,” Hill finished, looking at Herbert next. “I'll see you in class, mr. West. Ms. Halsey.” He nodded his head and she smiled, closing her eyes.

Both Hill and her father left in what seemed to be a dream sequence, no doubt discussing the grant, and the autopsy room was silent once again.

Her head was throbbing. The walls and floors were gray, there was a corpse rotting in their midst, Meg took a deep breath—chemical and invigorating somehow.

“I take it you don't like Dr. Hill either.” She looked at West, whose eyes still shone. He approached her, footsteps echoing out. “How did you know I was studying death?”

“I'm a doctor, Mr. West. I read,” she released the gurney, feeling tired for the meal she'd have to cook, on top of studying. There was a beat before she could stop herself from asking “What happened between you and dr. Gruber?”

“What do you mean?” A slight twitch, a small movement of the lips. “Dr. Gruber had a lab accident that I was unfortunately too late to prevent.”

“I heard he was in his office when he died.” Another twitch.

“I'm sure you heard it wrong, with all due respect ms. Halsey.”

Chemical smells, corpses rotting, the smell of something burning—Hill's pen no doubt left crisp black flesh behind, and he did it on enough people in the morgue proper that it got to where she was. She looked at West for almost long enough she'd probably have his exact face and pose at that moment committed to memory, forever.

He looked at her, waiting for something to happen.

Her hands hurt from grasping the gurney for so long.

“I'm not doing so great, sweetie…” She had said. Two men talking behind her. Her dad and Hill were gone. West was there.

“I'm sorry I asked,” Meg finally gathered, headache suddenly subsiding, like it never was. “Sorry for your loss, he must have been a wonderful mentor.” West bowed slightly and Meg did the same before turning around and going through the doors.

[ps-cactus]

My MC-related posts

Screenshots collection

Memes collection

Fanfiction (short stories, oneshots)

#Amberlyn Salters #Amberlyn x Ominis

Introduction post - small and big facts about past, present and future

Q&As: partner, backstory, drunk MC, modern MC, biggest heartbreak, most traumatic thing, ancient magic, MC inspo, opinion on keepers, unforgivables, turning in seb, Biggest regret, accomplishments, ancient magic headcanons - ted talk, hair explained, coffee shop AU

Art: nine HL MCs, cute watercolour

Hanging out with 💖MCs💖: #Alyn and friends

Mostly I take pictures of:

「 ✦ Amberlyn (MC) ✦ 」

「 ✦ Ominis Gaunt ✦ 」

「 ✦ Sebastian Sallow ✦ 」

But also have a bit of:

[ Poppy Sweeting ] [ Garreth Weasley ]

[ Natsai Onai ] [ Leander Prewett ]

[ Imelda Reyes ] [ Sebinis ]

curious vfx: focus potion, focus potion 2, lumos, draft revelio

🌈 series: Seb, Omi, Natty, Leander, Amit, Imelda

tag me if you use any of these ⬆️ 🫶

Sebastian and/or Ominis

Other memes

Crossovers: HL x BG3, x Friends with Ominis

🔳 Oneshots:

ROOTED – Sebastian Sallow & GN!Reader & Ominis Gaunt

Summary: You died. Here is what happens after a short while.

tags and warnings: no smut, no obvious romance, however - established relationship, unreliable narrator, haunting atmosphere, mystery, dark magic, death and resurrection, identity loss and confusion, obsession, (a bit of) predatory instincts, survival instincts, blood, symbolism

🔲 Post canon SFW stories about my MC and other canon and original characters, covering 6th and 7th years at Hogwarts. Adventures, magic theories, first love (f!MCxOminis). You don't need to read them in this order, so I don't give them numbers. But the chronology is as follows:

Darkness Comes At Dawn aka DCAD - completed - AO3, Wattpad - 46k words

Some other tags: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Flirting, Post-Canon, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Falling In Love, Friendship, Secret Crush, Friendship/Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Build, Sebastian and Anne are not at school Summary: Amberlyn and Sebastian's last conversation ended in bitter anger, leaving them estranged and unable to stand each other. However, she didn't expect "never seeing you again" to truly mean forever. As she begins a new year at Hogwarts, after an utterly awful summer thanks to the Ministry, Alyn discovers something beyond solace in the supportive yet cautious Ominis, feeling a building affection. Or does her anxiety make her imagine things? At the same time, some disturbing rumours and Sebastian's sudden appearance pull three of them (and many others) into dealing with an alarmingly unique form of ancient magic.

Shades Of Siver Lining - WIP, ao3, wattpad my estimate is 11 chapters, ~35k words

I cover and explain all important points from DCAD so you don't have to read it before this one.

Other tags: Adventure & Romance, Slow Romance, Teen Romance, Teen Angst, Eventual Fluff, Protective Ominis Gaunt, Good Friend Sebastian Sallow, Mental Health Issues, traumatized teens, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Room of Requirement (Harry Potter), Legends and Myths, Ancient Magic (Hogwarts Legacy), First weeks dating, Gaunt Family - Freeform, Sebastian and Anne are not at school

Summary: The new term was supposed to be much better for Alyn: Sebastian is no longer in danger, her relationship with Ominis is growing comfortably clear, and she’s learning to control the strange ancient magic within her. But new and old threats are closing in again. What forces are truly at play, threatening to shatter her fragile remains of peace? Is it Sebastian's latest dangerous research, or Aurors still investigating her magic, or even Ominis, who is ready to even face his painful past to protect the girl who means more to him with each passing day?

Nightmares Wide Awake (working title) - WIP, drafts stage

My take on why MC would be mentioned in all archives as "Unknown student 1890". Some events during MC's seventh year, the year Hogwarts was suddenly on the brink of closure.