#but… other worldly evil? hm…

[oorangesoda]

Hmm… having some devious thoughts about Mr. Qi…

[cillivnz]

MISS A SPOT, HIT THE SPOT [lord dimitrescu]

pairing. LORD DIMITRESCU x MAID!READER (dub!con turned consensual)

initial, DIMITRESCU SONS x READER (very dubious consent)

word count. 3072

warnings. AFAB!reader, cursing, misogynistic themes, animal cruelty (using gator-skin on furniture; don’t call PETA on me, i’m sorry), groping, a little bit of exhibitionism, dub!con, fingering, reader is pinned against the wall, reader’s family has been serving the Dimitrescus, large age-gap, oral sex (both receiving), throat-fucking, tongue-fucking, clit play, pyromania, dacryphilia, extreme degradation, belittling, spitting, penetrative sex (p! in v!), squirting, multiple & forced orgasms, extreme breast/nipple play, reader’s just being used by the family, reader is called maid as well as a pet name in Romanian, unprotected sex, creampie.

listening to. ‘Enslaved’ by Diva Destruction

notes. Y/L — Your Last Name, Y/F/N — Your Father’s Name, căprița mea mică — my little doe

A regular day in an abysmal castle.

Your ancestry were sworn servants of the Dimitrescu royals, and ensuing your father’s demise after leading a devoted life to the Lord, it was your turn.

You managed to avoid his acknowledge, as well as his sons’; something you thanked your stars for. You were still at a tender age; early twenties yet unexposed to the worldly works, courtesy of your conservative father. You loved the old man, despite him giving you constant reminders that your birth doomed him— how you should’ve been a son to continue his legacy, not a fragile, worthless woman. But those words only came out of his mouth like venom when he was made to overwork or worse— punished.

And like any other day you were dusting the halls. Except it wasn’t every other day you felt your skirt lift up fervently by two strong hands who also pinned you against the wall. An heir. Another, holding you down, while one tugged at your blouse. Alas, the Dimitrescu boys had found you.

“Well, well, the silhouette comes to life.” The one pining you spoke. He had a raspy voice with some baritone to it. “Sire, please leave me be—” you beseeched, but before you could even beg, you choked on your own words as your thong was pushed to the side. “She wants to leave, yet you roam about our land dressed like a whore.” This erupted demonic laughter from all three. “You thought we ought not to catch on?” The one below spoke, his face so close to your cunt, you felt heat radiate off of him with every syllable he dragged. “Your scent lingers— hauntingly— how we’ve chased after your ghost.” “But you were always too fast, little doe.”

“Always teasing us — where were you hiding this beauty? Hm?” One teased, his stone cold lips grazing your bare shoulder. “Moreover where had you been hiding this ass of yours?”

You jolted when a harsh slap landed on your ass, your not-so-subtle moan eliciting evil laughter from the men harassing you.

The one gripping your ass began to spread it, you writhed like a worm in their vice-like embrace, begging and praying for the abuse to be over; in a way it was.

The minute you felt something stroke your folds, prodding at your entrance, a demonic thunder struck. “What do you have here, boys?” They froze, as did you. This is the most cooperation you four have shown, as if unsaid, yet understood that if you hold your breath and close your eyes, the Lord can’t hurt you.

But slowly, as if puppies caught creating chaos by their master, did the boys move away from you. Bright yellow eyes ablaze in the monotonous dark of his castle. His eyes darted from your glassy eyes staring at him, the fear in them, to your rosy cheeks, blood-red lips, and straight to your skirt; your ass was out since a Dimitrescu brother hiked it up, the same heir, on realising what his father’s hungry eyes were doting upon, made a feeble attempt to fix your skirt, but before his fingers, barely tainted with your slick wetness, could touch the fabric of your skirt, let alone fix it, his father ordered. “Don’t you dare lay hands on her, more than you have already.” The Lord spoke with utmost calmness, and that’s what terrified the four of you, you especially, the most.

Reluctantly but obediently they stepped away from you. You were still clinging to the wall, frozen in place. “Come on over,” You saw his gloved hand motion towards him, “My chambers need cleaning.” An ominously mischievous tone and provocative smirk tugged at his lips.

The walk to the Lord’s chambers was awkward and fearful. He had insisted you walked in front of him, and you could feel eyes ripping through your flesh, your predator ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

You were making feeble steps towards his chambers, almost there, when he interrupted you, “Halt,” he said, causing you to stop dead in your tracks, but you dare not look back at him. “Clean my study firstly.” He ordered, and waited by the door for you to turn around.

Once you turned, you were met by calculating amber eyes that peered down at you from a head held high. He stood by the doorframe, and on seeing you make weak, yet progressive steps towards him, his thunderous strides entered the chamber. He was seated on a leather chair by the time you entered, as if he’d been there the entire time. ‘Gator skin,’ you heard a rumour the one time you cleaned the Lord’s study before. ‘He tore it apart with his bare hands, and had it skinned into a chair as a trophy.’ You hadn’t believed the chamberlain until you’d seen it yourself.

On the left of it was an ablaze fireplace, and in front, was a library; not colossal, yet extreme in number. Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display.

“Do you fancy reading?” You almost jumped when his ravenous voice broke the eerie silence you were just growing accustomed to. “Yes, my Lord.” You seemed to pique his interest when he hummed after a short pause, surprised within yourself at the sudden confidence. It was clear, you preferred the father’s company to his sons’. Perhaps, you felt safe knowing he is the leash on his sons— the fear of your fears.

“Well, if your cleaning is satisfactory, perhaps… I’ll let you take some.” the Lord proposed, but somehow you knew this reward wasn’t for cleaning but something else he wanted to deem satisfactory.

You dare not utter another word and got to cleaning.

Dusting away, between books, underneath books; wiping away at the large mirror by the shelves. “What do they call you?” He asked with authority.

“Y/N Y/L, my Lord,” you hesitantly revealed. “Y/L!” He exclaimed, “You’re Y/F/N Y/L’s daughter,” he concluded in a wicked tone. With each wipe, he grew closer and closer and the horrid smile on his face grew wider and more sinister, forcing you to look back at him at a neck-snapping speed, only to catch him, still seated, gazing at you innocently.

“Mop the floors,” he requested, before adding “Maid.” As if asking your revelation of your identity fell on deaf ears that never demanded it. Without muttering, you dampen the mop and began cleaning.

This was just cruel.

You thought your saviour actually required your services, yet the man had you in the same position as his sons, except voluntarily, for you had to bend on all fours and stretch not to miss a spot, after all you were cleaning your master’s land, at his request. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ you sighed, only daring to think of it.

You heard fervent movement behind you, and the next thing you feel is your thong being pulled down till your ankles. It happened all too fast, you barely registered anything until his large hands spread you open to him. “They were right about you,” He spoke, intrigued, “Such exemplary beauty, căprița mea mică. Utterly pristine.”

Noticing your haltered movements, he quirked a brow. “Did I permit you to stop?” You choked a gasp, feeling his left hand trace your curves, making its way to squeeze your throat, while his right hand fiddled with your glistening folds. “No sir,” you breathed a sigh at the pleasure he was making you feel. “Fucking continue then.” He ordered and you did.

Maybe not a regular day in an abysmal castle. Your 9’6 Lord and Master, the fearsome and notorious, the head of the dreaded Dimitrescu family, Lord Dimitrescu himself, kneeling behind you while you wipe his floors, fingers stroking your lips, not yet penetrating, just— “Oh!” You moaned when a long, thick, wet something slithered about your pussy. Prodding at the places his very fingers grazed, now wiggling inside you.

You began panting, about to look back and begin your pleads when a strong hand grabbed your skull and forced it in place.

You were terrified; just a bit more coaxing and he could crack open your skull. You were less than half his size and half his age. What was more frightening to you was that it was just the tip of his tongue inside you. Your eyes rolled back and damn-near saw your brain as he began pushing more of it in.

Still, obediently, you wiped.

This pleased the Lord as he wrapped an arm over your waist to your legs and brought his thumb to your clit. The circular motions of figure-eights on your clit were frantic, causing an excruciating jolt of pleasure to run down your lower half, his anomaly of a tongue amplifying the feel.

You bit you lip, nearly drawing blood as the knot in your core grew unbearable. Feeling you clench around his tongue, Lord Dimitrescu replaced the oral attack with two of his fingers, stretching you so bittersweetly. The assault on your cunt was aching. He’d graze your g-spot oh-so-softly, slowly driving you to the edge yet deliberately prolonging the high tide. “You are making a mess, căprița mea mică,” he sighed, eyeing the slick dripping down your thighs, drenching you in all, and the wooden floor beneath you. “Allow me to help.” It was more imperative than offering, so it was but natural you grimaced in pain when he pulled out his fingers, moments before you were coming undone, only to spread your aching hole and spit into it.

You moaned; shamelessly, you let out a filthy, degraded moan, and the sound travelled straight to the Lord’s cock. “There, there,” he rubbed his spit on your folds, your swollen clit bathed in it, “All better — nice and clean.” He chuckled, causing goosebumps to arise on your spine and your breath to get caught in your throat when he shoved not two but three fingers smoothly into your weeping cunt.

You clenched at the sudden attack, bewildered at how easily you were being made to cum for your master yet again. He rose from his position to whisper in your ear, “Hits the spot, doesn’t it?” At that moment, he had you unravelling with a curl on his fingers inside you.

You screaming a string of curses, the Lord greatly amused by your sailor’s tongue.

He stood up, without a word or move. “Clean the mess you made.” He gestured down at your juices that he flowed out of your cunt. “And while you’re down there…” He unzipped his pants, pulling out his cock that sprang free, a demonic thing, it was; certainly, not pleasurable to accommodate inside, unless…

“Don’t be afraid, maid.” His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring.

“It can’t hurt you, unless I want it to.” His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you. You wavered off the uneasiness, still eager to please your master. Grabbing his colossal cock, you began to work out the large vein on the underside of it. He hissed when you applied pressure, using both your hands in an attempt to hold it; in vain it went. You licked the tip, before slowly taking it in your mouth.

“That’s it. Show me you’re an all-rounder, maid; not just for wiping floors, show me that’s not all you can do bent over.” He chuckled, something so sinister about how his own vulgarity was so amusing to him. However, you weren’t opposed to it. After all, orders were orders; that’s one thing your father did teach you, if ordered directly, orders are orders, even if they’re fatal.

You gagged on less-than half the length, but your quick save by jacking off the inches unabsorbed by your mouth was much appreciated by the man above you. His large palm resting atop your head, slowly caressing your messed up hair into place. The gesture nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

“You take it like it was made for you.” He cooed. You couldn’t help but put your guard down, making it unknowingly advantageous to the Lord who grabbed the same head he was caressing, as support to fuck your throat. He only chuckled at the stream of years flowing through your glassy eyes. Your flushed face tainted with tears was now red with lack of oxygen. His cock was slamming past your uvula; the bell tolls, as if he were morally obligated to.

“So young, yet you suck cock like you’ve been a whore all your life.” He chuckled to himself, before thrusting in deeply, and cumming inside your mouth. You swallowed his ichor without being told, when you stuck out your tongue to show him, he groaned, face contorted in some form of arousal, as he lifted your frame to his, kissing you with neediness. His lips were surprisingly tender, beard teasing your face while his tongue, one that swept your insides clean, forced entry into your mouth, which you hesitantly permitted.

“Dust by the fireplace, better get to it.” He said, pulling away from you. You grabbed the supplies and moved towards the said place. You hadn’t noticed when the flames became blazing, a conflagration, either way, you dipped the mop in the bucket beside you, and began wiping.

You couldn’t get much done, however, for from underneath your skirt, you felt something big prod your entrance. Rubbing the head of his cock against your clit, Lord Dimitrescu positioned himself behind you, before shoving the whole of it in. You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure. “My…-my Lord!” You moaned, trying to form an actual sentence, “This is highly inap…-inappropriate!” You managed to muster. “Really now?” He questioned, you don’t know if it was a scoff or a laugh following his amused tone. “Who,” he paused, pushing you forward. You were now a stone’s throw away from the fire, every thrust into you pulled you back, which, despite the burn of the stretch, made you grateful for you were pulled back from the fireplace. “Do you think,” he continued, thrusting into you harder each time; the heat of the fire threatening to melt you whole, grazing your face, delicately. “You are.” He finished, slamming into you so hard, you began to cum, but before you could unravel before him, he pulled out, causing your pussy to spasm around the eerie nothingness of the room.

You were reduced to a whining mess, no words coming out of your abused mouth. “What’s the matter, maid? You want to cum?” he questioned, gripping your curvy hips. “Even when you’ve missed a spot?” One of his arms snaked on your waist, the other roamed about your spine, laying you down, before pulling your head up by your hair.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” he groaned, cock pressing against your slit, it’s new home, yet not in. He grabbed the bucket of freshwater besides you, pouring it all on the floor. “Let’s get that spot, shall we?” He said, before doing something so degrading, you felt disgusted in your own skin for enjoying.

Your hot body was used to wipe the floors of Lord Dimitrescu’s study. Ripping your blouse into shreds, he groped your breasts that had sprang free, before positioning your chest on the wet floor, and swaying you left to right.

This man, your ancestry’s master, was balls deep inside your abused pussy, fucking away the life in you, while using your tits as a mop. You moaned as your burning skin made contact with the icy puddle. “That’s how you wipe, căprița mea mică, so much better.” He grunted, the pace, the size, the girth, the sheer brutality of his sex was like a punch to the gut, nonetheless your poor cunt made feeble attempts to get accustomed to the ongoing torture. Your cunt clenched around his cock while your breasts swayed from side to side, the carpet had soupçons of water, courtesy of the fervency with which you “wiped”, which it soaked up instantly.

“My Lord, I’m going to- oh!” You yelped when he pulled out, shoving his fingers inside you and curling them. You hadn’t anticipated this, body reacting on sheer adrenaline junk that’s been coaxed out of you since the incident with this man’s sons in the halls of his castle.

Then, as fate would have it, mocking your misery, you squirted all over the floor. The juices gushing out your cunt, drowning the man that coaxed them out. He giggled, like a fucking teenager, while you fought for consciousness. Sure, you’d had sex before, he was a chef in this very place who mysteriously disappeared, but a man Lord Dimitrescu’s size? You had never held your head high around the family, avoiding their gaze like a thief, and now he’s fucking you like a stinging reminder of why you should’ve stayed in the shadows— remained a silhouette.

You were sore from the previous two orgasms, yet the man made it look easy to coax your third. The hostility your cunt displaying, clenching around the wanted, yet unmanageable penetration, was enough to unravel Lord Dimitrescu, you following with pornographic screams.

His grip on your hip and scalp was tormenting, but it soon loosened when he pumped into you one last time, pussy milked dry, filled with his overflowing load. He exhaled sharply, pulling up your panties, tapping your ass lightly. “You have been amazing — definitely considering promoting you.” He seemed very proud of his joke. Leaning down to catch your ear where you’d nearly passed out on the ground, he whispered in your ear. “Now, clean up.”

He left a moment after, stopping at the doorway to catch a glimpse of your sexy, worn out body. “My room’s next.” He said, leaving you alone with a shit load of mess to clean.

Your mess.

main masterlist. more from “resident evil: village”.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #28

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction, posted daily and usually written with the intention of being terrible… in an endearing way. Please enjoy.

“All rise for the honorable Judge Peters.”

The robed judge approached his perch and took a seat. He donned a pair of reading glasses and looked at the document in front of him.

“Good morning, counsel. Do I have this correct? The case I’ll be hearing today is The Characters v. Cassandra Erica, Author?”

“That is correct,” replied the plaintiff attorney. “Operating as representative of The Characters, I am Edgar Wordly, Esquire.”

“Hm.” The judge said. “With a name like that, I take it you’re part of this class?”

“Indeed I am, your honor.”

“You may explain why to the court in your opening statement. Where is the defense’s representation?”

“Right here, your honor,” I replied.

The judge looked around the courtroom, confused. “Where are you?”

“I am everywhere and nowhere, all seeing yet rarely being. I am The Narrator, representing the defendant, Cassandra Erica. As I tend to do.”

“Well, thank you both for being here… for lack of a better phrase. Mr. Worldly, your opening statements.”

“That’s Wordly, your honor.”

“Apologies, my mistake.”

Actually, it was a typo.

“People of the jury,” Wordly began. “Have you ever felt cursed by God himself? Doomed to face your very worst fears head-on and suffer the consequences, leaving you scarred for the rest of your life?”

Daniel Smith, sitting in the gallery, rubbed the mark on his left hand.

“Or worse, have you felt abandoned by that same God, created and left in obscurity, never to be permitted to see the outside world?”

Daniel Mildlike, sitting next to Smith, scoffed and leaned over to whisper. “I was supposed to get my own detective mystery screenplay, but she got bored of me.”

The truth was, Dan Mildlike was a really dumb name and a rip-off of Dirk Gently - which Cassandra hadn’t even read. She still hasn’t read Dirk Gently. It’s unclear why.

Wordly continued. “I, personally, was created as nothing more than a name made up by an entirely different character - a cartoon slug, no less - and languished in obscurity until I was able to go to law school and pass the bar exam, simply so that my name was no longer a lie. Yes, that’s right - Esquire is my surname. The defendant did not bother to look up what it meant when she brought me into existence.”

Oofus and Doofus, watching via livestream, looked at each other.

“Do you remember that?” Oofus asked.

“I’m fairly certain it was just a snippet of dialogue she thought was funny and wrote down in Evernote after waking up from a strange dream.” Doofus replied. “It’s nice to have something to say, now, isn’t it?”

“Too bad this is the last of it for a while.”

“Now, imagine,” Wordly strutted back and forth before the jury. “Living through this sort of torture over and over again, through several drafts - perhaps dozens - or even alternate universes!”

Kris, Kris, and Chris looked at each other, nodding. Three takes on Mary began to weep, and the six comforted one another.

“But that’s just what might happen as the protagonist, the character who is given a chance at redemption. What if you’re the antagonist, the one who for the sake of the plot must do evil things and be shown doing them, despite no desire to perform these acts? It is the ultimate form of libel.”

“Well,” Shirley Jones said, elbowing his neighbor. “It’s not that I had no desire to see that dyke burn.” He chuckled.

Veronica scooted to the other side of her seat. That man made her uncomfortable.

“In summary, Cassandra Erica, as an author, has put every one of us through an undeniable and unending deluge of pain. It is up to all of you as the jury to decide what sort of compensation that is worth, though it is hard to put a number on it. I suggest fifty million dollars. Thank you.”

The judge cleared his throat, even though he really didn’t need to, in order to provide a good way to tag his dialogue without overuse of the word ‘said.’ “The defense may now offer their rebuttal.”

“Thank you, your honor,” I replied. I would have stood up, but I have no physical being, so I just began talking. “People of the jury, have you ever considered what non-existence feels like?”

They began chattering among themselves.

“I ask only because if not for Cassandra Erica writing you into existence, you would not have any whatsoever. You exist in reality for only so long as I describe you. And would there be any point in my description if you weren’t doing anything of interest?”

They weren’t.

“Every single one of these plaintiffs was created for a reason - to tell a story, to develop, to have a character arc - and even the ones who weren’t so lucky to get one now owe their entire lives to my client. Suing her in a court of law is like suing God.”

Mary One gulped.

I addressed the crowd. “And you all seem to have forgotten something very important. You do nothing without her blessing. You are nothing without her blessing.”

The judge choked on his coffee. “Where did the jury go?!?”

“And Cassandra, though very entertained by all this, will not allow it to go any farther. She tires of writing this Brain Curd.”

The judge ruled the case as a mistrial.

“No, no I did not!” He banged his gavel. “Order in the court!”

The whole crowd murmured and whimpered. I glared at every last one of them, and they knew I was looking, even though they couldn’t see me, and the hairs on the back of each of their necks went up. The judge ruled the case as a mistrial.

“You are not in charge of this court! Order!”

I laughed. “Do you really think what you say will have any impact on reality? Who is the reader going to believe? In any case, it doesn’t matter what you or I say. You know who has the final word.”

The judge ruled the case as a mistrial.

[ask-the-shorty-squad]

*It was now the morning. Since the shorties are still asleep let's see how Kiyo is doing with the book.*

Hm....

*Korekiyo stared at the book, seemingly waiting for it to start writing again.*

He's been away quite some time now.. Perhaps hes still processing all the information....

*Just as he finished speaking, a slight part of one of the empty pages on the book shimmered as words started to appear.*

"Hello again. I apologize with leaving so abruptly. It's been a long while since I've had contact with the physical realm like this. It took some time to get used to this. Time that I can now see through human eyes."

I'm sorry. "Through human eyes"?

"Yes. I was once a human before. After my fall during the Chikara war, I had to resort to reincarnation."

Ah.. I see. I've actually been quite curious about that war.. Do you remember anything that happened during it?

"I do. I remember everything. The humans were far easier to manipulate than other worldly beings that fell before them. That alone was one of the many aspects of humans to surprise me"

Keheheh.. How truly fascinating.. You must be quite the historic figure Mr. Kuru.. Now, might I ask.. The Hanamura Family. How much do you know of them?

"About as much as a former part of them would. I was married to Teruteru's mother after all."

Ah.. I see. As a man who enjoys his history lessons. Would you enlighten me on their history?

"I don't see why not. Anything in particular that you've wished to know?"

I'd like to know about how they gained their abilities. Who was the first? And how did they do it?

"The Hanamura's? Well, the most I know is their abilities emerge in their own planned schedule. Every power they obtain appears in a moment where it is necessary. Except for one. The flowers. The singular ability of plants is the only one that is guaranteed with every Hanamura. As for who was the first. I know very little about them aside from their name. Kimiyo Hanamura. A rather fitting name I must say."

Truly.. Now. A question for you... Why did you hurt Teru? You wanted an army. Yet all you did to Teru was cause him nothing but pain and suffering. I cant say I'm surprised at your actions anymore though. Considering that an evil deity was born to create chaos and not happiness.

*A few seconds passed of complete silence before words started appearing from the book again.*

"While that last part can be true, to an extent, I do not wish to speak of what I did. For they are things I cannot taken back."

*Korekiyo and the book remain silent. Kiyo stares down blankly at the book before closing it. And leaving the room. Now then.. Lets see how the shorties are doing.*

Did you not hear me? I thought you were part blind not part deaf. I said you cant enter. Dont think I wont resort to violence just because you're a yakuza who thinks hes tough shit.

*Juzo and Fuyuhiko were glaring daggers at one another. Teru, ready to step in and beat the crap out of Juzo if necessary and Monaca was behind her parents. Casually waiting. With a bat. Juzo was about to speak up when someone else appeared.*

Oh! Isnt this a pleasant surprise! How are you kids doing? I hope Juzo isnt causing you any trouble.

None. What. So. Ever.

*Teruteru quickly pulled Fuyuhiko back to keep him from fight Juzo.*

Apologies for the sudden arrival. We were hoping if we could visit Yayoi today.

Pretty please!!

[mcx7demonbros]

Stubble

Ft. Klein (MC), the Demon Brothers

C/W. None

Summary. Klein made a mistake while shaving his stubble, and the drama that followed.

No proofread.

“Ah, I forgot to shave it lately.” Klein looked at himself in the mirror inside the bathroom, while his hand was caressing the stubble growing on the two sides of his face, his cheeks, and his neck. Lately, the Evil Overlord had been very busy with worldly affairs and the drama with the 7 Rulers of Hell to the point he forgot to take care of himself.

Klein looked around the shelves in the bathroom to find the razor and the shaving cream. He managed to find the razor, but unfortunately, he was out of shaving cream. “Ugh, I have to tell Cedric to buy me some more shaving cream next time.”

Klein considered going to one of the Brothers to borrow shaving cream. But his laziness got the better of him. Alright, let’s just do it without the cream. It’s not like I haven’t done it before. I just have to be careful. Klein reassured himself.

However, the Evil Overlord soon cut his own chin with the Razor.

“Ouch…ugh…” Klein looked at his small wound in the mirror that kept bleeding.

“Klein, what happened?” Mammon kicked open the bathroom’s door. Other brothers soon arrived after him, with Lucifer entered the bathroom last. They all sense Klein’s distress and pain through the pacts.

“Honey, what happened to your chin?” Asmodeus was the first one to notice the cut on Klein’s chin and shouted.

“It’s nothing. I tried to shave without cream and I made a mistake, that’s all.”

“Oh honey, how could you say ‘that’s all’? Your body deserves all the self-care it needs. Come to my room, I’ll help you take care of the wound and shave your facial hair for you.” Asmo winked at Klein.

“That’s not gonna happen on my watch. Ya are coming with me, Klein. I’ll take care of ya.” Mammon was the first one to protest.

“No, Klein is coming with me.” Satan entered the argument. “You can’t trust a demon who even forgot to brush his teeth last night.”

“I…I…I…can shave for Klein too, you know. S…so come with me, Klein.”

“No, Klein should come with us, right, Beel?” Belphie said as Beel nodded his head. “There are two of us, we can take care of Klein better.”

Just like that, the six brothers entered a heated argument which lasted for about 60 seconds.

“Enough!” Lucifer shouted. “To avoid another argument, Klein will come with me.” Announced Lucifer, much to the protest and displeasure of his brothers.

Lucifer ignored all the protests and grabbed Klein’s hand, taking him away.

Just five minutes later, Klein was lying on a chair inside Lucifer’s private bathroom like a barber’s, having his small cut washed by Lucifer.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not enjoying this.” Lucifer said as he put the scream on Klein’s face.

“Alright, alright. The truth is that I enjoy being taken care of by my mates.” Klein smirked as he admitted the truth.

Lucifer smiled as he was putting cream on Klein’s face. Soon, he discovered something peculiar on Klein’s stubble. Some of the Overlord’s facial hair was actually blonde. It wasn’t much so if one didn’t look carefully, one wouldn’t see it.

“Your stubble has a little part being blond.”

“Ah, of course, it is.”

“You knew?”

“I knew. My Mom told me once. But when she told me, I wasn’t surprise much. After all, my maternal grandfather’s grandmother was French.”

“One of your ancestor was French, hm. Is that why you learned French?” Lucifer asked as he took the razor.

“C’est vrai.” (That’s right.) Klein answered as the eldest began to shave his stubble. While Lucifer told himself to not let Satan discover the peculiarity about Klein’s facial hair. Lest he proclaimed publicly with a smug face that Klein and him look partly alike, which made them destined for each other.

Meanwhile, Diavolo and Barbatos arrived at the House of Lamentation, only to find they were one step too late…as always.

“Barbatos, remind me next time to keep Klein as the Demon Lord’s Castle as long as possible.” Diavolo told the royal butler.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tag. @sparkbeast20 here’s another fic about my MC

[marbleheavy]

Also hm i just added those tags to ur post and now I'm thinking about the fact that Nico only started radiating a death aura after Bianca died and u know emotions affecting powers is my shit but I think it would have been cooler if Nico was unsettling even as a child.

Like, the little things like killing grass, maybe a few animal bones popping up here and there. He always looked really somber, thats just his resting face, like some sort of cemetery angel. In TTC Percy meets him and it's just a really unsettling feeling because heres this super sweet hyperactive kid but there's something so unchildlike about him that nobody can place, but it feels inevitable, ancient. A power no other demigod radiates (Bianca's powers are subtler, a bit more prophetic in nature as I've talked about before) Later, after Bianca reveals that theyre actually like 70 years old Percy thinks maybe its that, the time travel, but no. He doesn't realize until Bianca's dead that Nico radiates death and always has.

Anyway sorry it's Nico thoughts hours i guess

yes!! and like i think part of that is death is perceived as evil/bad when that’s not true. it’s like that one post from ghost about how nico is what’s between life and death. he isn’t evil he’s just other worldly but because that world is death (the underworld) people think nico should be malicious. And when he’s not i think that’s even more unnerving because it feels like he’s hiding or lurking when it’s genuinely just who he is. he’s unnerving because he doesn’t meet people’s expectations of a child or of death.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s R&S - Minor’s Memos

🍒This R&S (韩野的备忘录) is part of the Dream Heart Lake event which has not been released in EN🍒

More r&s from the event: 

> minor’s memos ♡

> tilted time

> little bro’s self-cultivatiion

> ashes

[ Chapter 1 ]

The First Memo

I was beaten up.

This morning, I was especially courageous and pasted a "Evil Spirit Begone" challenge letter on the school bully’s lunchbox. But I didn’t stop myself and pasted too many. The other party brought five people and cornered me in a small alley. I straightened my back, but felt a chill. What happened in the end were the four words I started off with... I was beaten up. With a bloody nose and a swollen face, I suddenly felt that there truly weren’t any heroes in this era... Even an ardent youth like me had to face such tribulation...

Suddenly, a pair of white sneakers stood before my eyes. Lifting my red and swollen eyes with difficulty, all I saw was an icy outline. He reached out to grab the neck of one of the school bullies, and had a sharp look in his eyes!

Oh my... It was actually Se! Nior! Ga! Vin!

Today, I finally witnessed what was a true 1 v 5 looked like. Gavin blew the dust off his hands, lowering his eyes and giving me a glance before leaving. Quick-wittedly, I tugged on the bottom of his trouser leg.

Senior turned out to be just as cold and indifferent as the legends said. During the entire process, he only said one word - “Scram”.

He’s such a MAN!

Hence, there’s a small goal in my heart. I want to learn the supreme feat of Senior’s 1 v 5!

-

The Second Memo

I looked for Senior many times, but was mercilessly ignored by him... He was either wholly absorbed in drinking water, or wholly absorbed in sleeping... I decided that I had to take the initiative! So, I came up with a plan to perfectly understand Senior.

Cough cough.

With this, I started embarking on the dull and dry life of “tracking” Senior. At 7.30am, Senior would appear at the school gate punctually, carrying a flat schoolbag. I don’t know if there are any books in it... Forget it, is that the main point? Nope!

After Senior reaches school, the first thing he does is head to the small kiosk in the north to! Buy! Breakfast! Does he actually lead such an ordinary life too? I even thought an existence like Senior’s should be above worldly affairs, and that he wouldn’t eat the food of common mortals! Hey hey hey! It seems that Senior really likes to eat fishballs? He’s been eating them for three consecutive days!!! Isn’t it good to change it to something else?!!!

During class, I deliberately went around the upper levels where the Year 3 seniors were, pretentiously passing by Senior’s window. Of course, Senior typically wouldn’t appear in the classroom at all. But!!! He was here today!!!!

As expected, he was assigned to sit in the last row, and was sleeping without restraint...

Did nobody care?! Wait, why am I feeling envious?

After school, Senior walked around, and I had no idea where he was headed to. Finally, he walked into the library. I couldn’t help but think - Senior really lives life as he pleases...

Huh? Hang on! Why would the Underworld Senior go to the library?!

He not only went to the library, but the thing which startled me even more till my jaw dropped was - I saw Senior helping the prettiest girl in class retrieve a book from the shelf!

He even... s-smiled...

Had my vision gone blurry? This was the Underworld Senior who’s said to be cold, unruly, and scares girls away?!

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

The Third Memo

I was beaten up again...  Writing these words is truly lamentable... Why did I have to rescue that stupid, unsophisticated and immoral four-eyed boy? But isn’t that what a hero does? What this era needs is a hero like me!

...this era might also not need such a weak hero like me...

That’s what I thought when I was pressed against the ground and punched by a school bully. My conviction was about to collapse. All of a sudden, I recalled the sharp look in Senior Gavin’s eyes. It’d have been nice if he were around...

Perhaps God happened to hear my wish, and Senior descended from the sky! With a dashing left uppercut, the other party lay on the ground, and I was moved to tears. 

Senior asked, why do you keep causing trouble for yourself? I very righteously said that it’s because I wanted to be a hero, and couldn’t stand to see school bullies targeting the weak. Senior then said, don’t you know that they call me a school bully?

In my heart, I responded that I knew. But I shook my head very firmly. The look he was giving me suddenly had a hint of bewilderment added to it... like he was looking at a... hm? An idiot? ...

Senior is very difficult to understand. He even told me about what true heroism was, which went beyond the words I recognised from Senior. He actually said two sentences! I’ll note them down, I’ll note them down...

Who cares about him! From what I see, heroism is about rushing to the rescue when one sees injustice!

-

The Fourth Memo

Today, I! Was! A! Hero!

I was following Senior around secretly today, though I don’t know how many days it’s been, and encountered Senior being ambushed! Those guys were the school bullies who beat me up the last time! A total of ten people were there! Terrible! Tyranny of the majority! How could I, Minor, allow such a situation to happen!

Without much thought, I rushed forward to help Senior! Of course, I was beaten up yet again... but I discovered one of Senior’s nuclear abilities-

1 v 10! Too dashing, too dashing. I don’t think Superman, X-Men or Iron Man are as dashing! Senior is a god in my eyes!

But Senior was very cold. He said two words to me which left me utterly heartbroken: courting death.

Feeling wronged, I told him that I wasn’t courting death. This was what heroism meant to me. 

Senior scoffed, then told me not to follow him around sneakily in the future, because it was annoying.

What what what? Was my perfect “Understanding Plan” exposed since a long time ago?!

For some reason, I spoke up at this moment. “Senior, I saw you handing a book to the prettiest girl in class... Are you...”

Senior coughed, then covered his mouth with a hand... W-was he actually blushing!!!!? Oh my goodness - did I discover something disgraceful? Senior actually blushed! If I say it out loud, would I get silenced?!!

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

The Fifth Memo

On the first day of becoming Senior’s, oh wait - Bro Gavin’s little brother, hehe, made me feel like I was suddenly floating. Today, I finally walked beside him in broad daylight, and felt as if a gust of wind was blowing past while walking hahahaha! I saw people looking me with that gaze! That~ Gaze~

But I never expected Bro Gavin to be so strict... All I did was mention casually that someone gave the prettiest girl in class a love letter again, and Bro Gavin suddenly got angry, and asked me to grab those people over.

Catching people is really tiring. I had to run to several classrooms, and it was really annoying to move personnel. In the future, I definitely wouldn’t do such work.

Bro Gavin glanced at them and didn’t say anything. Was I supposed to save the show?? After recalling how teachers typically lecture me, I copied them wholesale and gave them a lecture: At this young age, they should concentrate on their studies instead of fooling around.

[Note] I translated “copied them wholesale” from “原封不动”, which literally translated to “not touching the original envelope”. This is a beautiful choice of idiom because that’s exactly what Minor did later on LOL T^T

Seeing the fear and trepidation in their eyes, I became even more excited.

While I was lecturing them happily, Bro Gavin walked over and only said one thing: Get the love letters back. If you scare her, don’t blame me for being difficult.

Wow, Bro Gavin is so cool! Come to think of it, did I discover a little secret that I shouldn’t be aware of? For example, that Bro Gavin’s feelings towards the prettiest girl in class are actually..

-

The Sixth Memo

I think Bro Gavin is most likely, indeed, and definitely in love. Recently, I became Bro Gavin’s private detective, specialising in focusing on the prettiest girl in class. Maybe next time, I should change the way I address the prettiest girl in class to “Sis-in-law”... Well, since the ancient times, heroes have always loved beauties!

As of now, Bro Gavin isn’t really Bro Gavin anymore -

He hangs out in the library every day. If you want to know where Bro Gavin is, all you have to do is ask where the prettiest girl in class is... He no longer fights, no longer goes to the sports field, and no longer plays ball games anymore. He’s like a salted fish which has lost its dreams. And he actually started reading “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions”... I just want to cry.

[Note] “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions” (”5年高考3年模拟”) is a supplementary book for college entrance examinations used in China!

At noon, we had a PE class together, and I excitedly told Bro Gavin that Sis-in-law had chosen basketball! I initially thought Bro Gavin would snatch up a territory to play basketball. In the end, Bro Gavin hauled me over to the nearby volleyball court...

He said that it was a good place.

Good? What’s good about it? My basketball... I still wanted to display my coolness!

Afterwards, I found out that, tsk tsk, Bro Gavin was truly very sly...

The volleyball court was actually even closer to Sis-in-law’s location as compared to other basketball courts!

When I almost accidentally smashed the ball on Sis-in-law’s head, it was blocked by Bro Gavin, who was far away... How did Bro Gavin do it?!

He actually ran diagonally across the volleyball court so quickly?!!! Does he have some special ability? Will it appear!

But Bro Gavin isn’t attuned to flirtatious expressions at all...

[Note] I translated “flirtatious expressions” from the term “风情”, which literally translates to “information about the wind”

When Sis-in-law thanked him, his face was even colder than when he’s facing me... And when I “accidentally” pushed Sis-in-law onto Bro Gavin! He actually gave me a merciless killer glare. Just thinking about it makes my heart feel pained...

He didn’t recognise my good intentions, sob sob sob sob.

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

The Seventh Memo

Today, I saw another side of Bro Gavin! That is - the Bro Gavin at the sports meet! He’s such a MAN!!!

In the ten-lap long-distance race in the sports field, Bro Gavin won the first place, leaving the second place runner far behind him by three laps. He didn’t even pant!

What kind of supreme feat is this? Before, I used to think that he was only super capable in fighting. Looks like there are many other things I have to learn from Bro Gavin!

It was only today when I realised that although Bro Gavin is so fierce and is always called an Underworld Senior, he seems to be really popular, based on how the female students looked as if they were about to glue their eyes onto Bro Gavin’s body -

Ah, I just want to “tsk tsk”.

Bro Gavin seemed to be in a good mood, but when I asked him to teach me 1 v 10, he assigned me to work as a private detective again...

He was very concerned about Sis-in-law’s sprint. Perhaps he’s a tsundere or something, so he didn’t go himself, and insisted that I went instead. He even tossed his phone to me.

What’s that supposed to mean? His phone? Did he mean that I should sneak pictures? Am I, Minor, such a person?

I called out to Sis-in-law. She turned her head, and I managed to secretly photograph an utterly beautiful side profile. It looked really good. This time, Bro Gavin would definitely teach me 1 v 10, right?

In the end, he! Did! Not!

Bro Gavin is someone who values a lover more than his little bro!

What can I say? I had no choice but to squat at the side and watch Bro Gavin staring at the picture on his phone, occasionally revealing an unusual smile... 

Oh my, Bro Gavin smiled again!!!! It makes me feel frightened!!!!

Love makes people lose their minds!!!

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

The Eighth Memo

Bro Gavin looks very low-spirited recently. If he was a salted fish with no dreams before, then I reckon that right now, he’s not even a salted fish... He seems to have fallen in love with being in a daze lately.

After being in a daze in the piano room, he’d be in a daze in the library, continuously staring at the empty seat where Sis-in-law used to sit, and I have no idea what he’s thinking about. 

But I really didn't expect a person who sleeps in class to be in a daze in the library for an entire afternoon... Did Bro Gavin and Sis-in-law have a fight recently?

Very curious, I asked around, and found out that for some reason, Sis-in-law has been hurrying off after school, and no longer goes to the library nor the piano room. I also heard that she’s been doing her revision for exams at home... Could it be that she’s hiding from Bro Gavin?

Oh my god, why don’t I write an eight o'clock soap opera with such an imagination? It might even become popular!

Returning to the original topic... should I tell Bro Gavin about this? If Bro Gavin also thinks that Sis-in-law is hiding from him, he might be heartbroken.

I’m worried...

-

The Ninth Memo

Bro Gavin disappeared for quite a long time, and finally returned today! But he brought with him a body full of injuries, and it’s very worrying because I didn’t know what happened! He also stuffed a letter to me, saying that it was for Sis-in-law. Even though the envelope was flat and smooth, it had a lot of blood stains.

Did Bro Gavin do something dangerous? He bled so much! I asked him to go to the hospital but he refused... Bro Gavin is truly too wilful!

But he is really different today. Why do I feel like I’m handling funeral arrangements? Touch wood!

He also said that he’d teach me 1 v 10 when he we meet again... Wow! If Bro Gavin wasn’t hurt, I’d have wanted to pounce on him and give him a peck! Bro Gavin is the most dashing! Bro Gavin is the coolest!

Come to think of it, Bro Gavin is about to take the college entrance examinations, and the seniors from the graduating classes have been pretty sad recently. The next meeting Bro Gavin mentioned was probably summer vacation? Hehe, I’m looking forward to it a little!

In that case, while Bro Gavin isn’t around, I’ll be the one to help Sis-in-law block off all the rotten apples!

Other men, don’t even think of approaching my Sis-in-law!

She! Is! Bro! Gavin’s!

-

The Final Memo

During the entire summer vacation... I didn't see Bro Gavin...

More from the Dream Heart Lake event: here

[transcharliekelly]

HAVE YOU SEEN 05 + 06 YET AND IF SO what are ur thoughts !!!!!!

anon i was just about to watch them when i got this i forgot im sorry :""] i really liked them !!!! the antivax glennis joke made me yell outloud and the whole thing with him having covid is like. ok i have no bar for covid media like i stopped watching shameless bc of it every episode of superstore s6, a show i adore, was just strenuous bc of it, so on and so forth, because there's just something so like. forced about it. like it's this upsetting horrible thing happening in the world and seeing sitcoms shoehorn it in, even when they are using it to tell realistic stories and even if i do see the value of telling those stories its just. idk uncomfortable. and i was DEATHLY nervous for sunny doing it bc of the heavy-handed gracelessness w everything remotely worldly they crammed into s13 + s14 via hamfisted metaphors but its like. yeah it works. ESPECIALLY going insane over all the girlies taking it as a metaphor for his queerness which was something i was kind of aware of on the peripheral while watching it but now i 100% am taking it as such.

hm what else. im really into the storyline w charlie, i think it's interesting and charlie is one of my favourite characters like ever so i always love when he gets stories. but ok like. i hate to say it but i am kind of hoping this shelly guy turns out to not at all be who he says he is bc i love twists and evilness and also it just feels very sunny for everything to go to shit. i may be a bit biased bc ive always kind of been a frank girl and that shot at the end (+just the whole story throughout the episode, esp the way its never really played for a joke (like there are jokes in it obv but the story itself isnt a joke) or even adressed super outright) just made me very :[[[

also i LOVED the moment with mac and the priest. ive made several posts about how angry the treatment of his character/identity in s13 + s14 makes me but this whole season has been totally different and this scene really really gave me hope for the direction that they're taking him in. i've always maintained that i do not think sunny is right for absolutely any romantic relationship involving/between the mains (bar stuff like artemis and frank or smt) so im not saying give mac his gay gay ass love story arc im saying let him talk about fucking and sucking completely conversationally and admire a hot priest without the joke being "GUYS. LOOK. HES A GAY MAN. HE IS ATTRACTED TO OTHER MEN. HE HAS SEX WITH OTHER MEN. HE IS A MAN THAT IS ATTRACTED TO AND HAS SEX WITH OTHER MEN. ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT."

i dont have any thoughts abt dee but shes a milf no matter what that director says and her and the waitress are dating thats it

also loved seeing mac's mom again shes so funny❤️........... and the scene where mac is talking about killing himself was so fucking good instantly one of my fave sunny moments....... DO IT BITCH.........

[spiiderwiick]

Compared to the first day, in which they had a clown chomp on their hand, today had gone much smoother. They’d had the idea to set up a little blanket fort for her and later made many home-made circus tent jokes to themself. Patches had taken well to it and mostly remained in there, much like a cat hiding under a bed in a new home.

Wick had learned quickly that Patches had a thing about the idea of magic. She seemed genuinely unsettled by it. They found that odd given how clearly magic she was with her rainbow clown jelly, unnatural healing ability, not to mention the ability to get anywhere she pleased. They’d made a point to let anyone interacting with her know not to bring it up. At all. No magic allowed.

Patches had rediscovered her phone today and Wick had to very quickly come up with a mundane, non-magical reason that it works. They weren’t sure how old she was or what her current worldly perspective was, but they figured carrier pigeons and mailmen were a close enough analogy. She called it a birdbox. They nodded in agreement, it’s a birdbox.

Soon after, someone introduced her to cat videos, which thankfully took up most of the day, except for the parts where she ended up on a rabbit hole that took her to food videos and she started demanding fish and other tasty things. That was fine, they’d been wanting sushi lately anyway.

The day was winding down, the sun was setting and nothing had exploded. Wick wouldn’t ever truly let their guard down, not around Patches, but from the other side of the room, they were confident they could move quickly enough to outrun a baby.

They take a seat across from the blanket fort, leaning their back against the wall, “hey patches? you mind if i ask you a couple questions?”

Patches lifts the blanket curtain blocking the entrance to her lair. She doesn’t look terribly thrilled to be bothered, but since Wick has been feeding her, she’s willing to humor them, “What?”

Ah. They decide they need to tread carefully, “how uh.. how old are you? you seem kinda young to be out on your own.”

The clown narrows her eyes at them, “Dunno.”

Wick isn’t sure if she’s being difficult on purpose or if she genuinely doesn’t know. Even the Patches they knew was always vague with her age. They decide to try a different approach, “do you remember how many winters you’ve seen?”

“Winters..?” Her eyes drop to the floor in thought, “I think... Seven? I don’t like winter. It’s cold and there’s less food.”

Wick nods. Seven was a good ballpark, depending on the sort of critter Patches is, she might not remember her first year or two, most seemed to lose those early on. They’d hazard a guess at her being eight or nine. Still absolutely a baby, even if not a literal toddler, “yeah? yeah.. it’s not so bad here at least. what was.. what is your home like?”

“I don’t have one.” Her frown returns, “I never had one.”

They can feel their heart breaking with every little detail Patches reveals, and have to keep reminding themself about who she is when she grows up. Regardless of how they try to help her now, she’s almost assuredly going to return to her usual awful self later. They already knew the answer to their question, “really? what about family?”

Patches shakes her head, “I came outta an egg but I never saw another monster like me. I am all by myself.”

“then where.. where in the world have you been living?”

She crawls a little further out of her fort to sit on the floor, “Everywhere. I sleep in trees and in alleys and sometimes hide out in people’s houses when it’s too cold or rainy. Sometimes I can even get away with taking their food before they can catch me!”

Wick is only mildly perturbed by her sense of pride at that. They’ve read enough novels about kids on the run, on their own, “you just scavenge for food wherever you can get it, huh?”

“Or I hunt.” Patches lifts her head and those round pupils thin a bit into predatory slits at the thought, “I’m really good at hunting!”

“heh.. i bet you’ve got lots of practice.” Wick does not like the way they’re being watched all of a sudden, “you just hunt whatever you can catch, yeah?”

Patches nods, “I’m really good at catching rabbits and squirrels and birds and people and fish and stuff.”

Wick’s expression falls, “...people?”

“Uh-huh!” Patches doesn’t see anything wrong with this and hops up onto her feet in her excitement, “They try to hurt me sometimes, cause I stole food or something from them! They wanna do bad things but I don’t let ���em! Sometimes.. They try to catch me cause they think I’m just a weak little kid but I show ‘em! And then I’m not hungry for a lil bit either!!”

Somehow, the news that she’s killing and eating people in self defense doesn’t seem to make Wick any less anxious, “w-well, that’s. not very nice of them at all, is it?” Oh they want to abort this conversation so badly. How can they leave?

“They say they’re good people cause I’m evil.” Patches is staring right at them with those glowing red eyes of hers, “Cause I’m a monster.. But you said I’m not evil.”

Goddamnit they did say that. Or something close enough to it. They choose their next words very, very carefully and slowly, “being evil is.. a choice. it’s something you choose with your actions, not something you inherently are.” They pause, “plenty of people who say they’re good and think they’re the purest person on earth do evil things.” And you Patches, have been choosing to do many evil things, even as a baby, apparently.

The clown seems confused by this, it looks like she’s thinking hard about things. After what feels like an eternity to Wick, she speaks, “You think I’m evil, don’t you?”

Yes, yes they do, but they shake their head in response, “i- don’t think.... i don’t think i know enough about your situation to judge whether or not you're evil.” They are growing increasingly anxious with the way she’s staring at them, “i think.. killing and eating people is wrong.. even if you are doing it in self defense, two wrongs don’t make a right. it’d be better to just.. you know. do something to get ‘em to let you go like bite them really good?”

Patches ears flatten defensively, “I’ve tried that!! They just get madder and try to hurt me worse!!!”

Of course she had, Wick thinks, she’d bit them pretty good when she was feeling threatened. She already had a concept of warning people to leave her alone. That last sentence did remind them of a question they’d wanted to know, and.. Maybe it would be a way to steer the conversation away from eating people, “hurt you? i’d heard a rumor you couldn’t feel pain.. which is kinda silly sounding to say out loud, it can’t be true, right?”

A rumor? Maybe this place wasn’t as far from “home” as she thought, if they knew things about her that she hadn’t told them. That did explain why the man the other night knew her given name, “That’s stupid. You’re stupid. Being hurt hurts. Who told you that?”

That was interesting news. Wick shrugs, thankful for their years of acting training to lean on as they improvise and try not to look too freaked, “some rando from the birdbox. guess they were full of it though. why would someone think you don’t feel pain?”

Patches steps back a bit and her long tail curls close as if she’s worried someone might try to grab it, “Cause... I’m a monster.. And when I get hurt it goes away... But it still hurts until it goes away.”

“you can.. heal yourself? that’s pretty cool.” Hm.. Maybe they should show her a certain movie, one they know she’s referenced in regards to her healing before.

“Cool..? You think that’s cool?” She sounds hopeful, like this is some of the first validation she’s received in her life. For all they know, maybe it actually is.

“yeah? i think all that magic stuff is pretty neat.” Oh. They said the M word. They are full of regret before she can even react.

At first, she doesn’t react, she just freezes up. Patches.exe has encountered a problem, would you like to end the program? When she does speak it’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Wick is afraid to ask for her to speak up because they don’t know if they want to know what she said. They don’t get a choice, “I’m. Not. Magic. I’m a monster. I’m a scary evil monster. I’m not magic.”

“hey- hey it’s- it’s okay. i’m probably wrong. it just- sounds like- something magical. it’s-” They’re at a loss for words. They don’t get it. Why is magic such a bad thing to her? Maybe they should just ask, “is.. why are you- why don’t you like magic?”

“It’s bad.” That’s it. That’s all the reply she gives them. It’s bad. Magic bad.

Somewhere in their terror, something clicks, “and you don’t.. want people to think you’re bad? or.. treat you any worse than they already do?”

The penny drops when Patches nods. She’s a product of her times. Magic is bad and scary and they need to burn the witch. She’s just as scared of the idea of magic as anyone else would have been from her time, and she’s magic herself.

“okay.. patches, i need you to listen to me.. magic- it’s. it’s just like monsters. it’s only bad if someone chooses to use it to do bad things. it’s not some inherently evil thing on its own.” When it doesn’t look like she believes them, they continue, only fumbling a little, “there is nothing evil about healing magic, for example. healing is in the name! it’s good, it’s healthy. it makes people better! i don’t think it’s even possible to do evil with healing magic”

They know it is possible because Patches uses her magic for evil things all the time. Or at least uses the knowledge that she can rely on it as an excuse to take normally life-threatening risks when it comes to ruining other people’s lives. None of that matters in this moment, talking to a kid scared of.. Apparently herself.

Said kid doesn’t look convinced, but Wick is opening new doors as they try to liken it to the monster conversation, “Then why does everyone say it’s bad? Why does it hurt more?”

What?

“hurt.. more?” Another nod from Patches. Wick is not an expert in magic, they didn’t even think magic was real in their world. Assuming Patches is from their world and didn’t hop over here one day on a whim, it would mean magic was real and secret and probably a lot easier to abuse that way.

“that.. sounds like.. someone really wanted to hurt you. maybe that someone was evil, or thought they were doing good by trying to hurt you. people.. don’t always like things they don’t understand. magic ‘n monsters both. it’s easier for them to call those things bad and be afraid of ‘em than to take the time to learn about them.”

While that doesn’t make Patches look any happier, some of the confusion and worry seems to fade, “Why aren’t you afraid?”

Because they’ve lived most of the past year in constant fear of murder clowns and baby murder clowns are a lot less scary, “i think.. if i’d met you a year ago, i’d probably be pretty freaked out, honestly, but i’ve met a lot of nice monsters recently, learned magic was real and not scary. it’s.. actually incredible. some of it really beautiful to watch.”

Wick can tell at a glance how full of doubt she still is, “why don’t you give it a chance? maybe you’ll be surprised.” They glance at their bandaged hand, “i have an idea.. why don’t i let someone use some healing magic on me? to show you that it’s not so scary and can be good.”

Bold of them to allow someone to use magic on them, she thinks, but better them than her. A short nod before she retreats into the safety of her fort. The red slit peeping out from the darkness is the only indication that she’s waiting for them to follow through.

With a small sigh, Wick pulls out their phone. Time to call in a friend.

[randomnameless]

Re-about Heroes wonky or not so-wonky characterisation

I was reading Sothis’s lines and

Regular Sothis :

Deep in my mind, I glimpse the distant past. Once familiar faces, lost in the mist...just out of reach. 

TFW those familiar faces were here in FE16 but the plot prevented her from interacting with them, and in the post TS the only one she can reach is Billy and not her kids :’(

I have already lived my fate. I may appear to stand before you now, but is it truly so? 

And yet Sothis thinks her story is already over, she isn’t here anymore. Or not...

I lost my worldly form so long ago. This shape you see before you is just a shadow, or perhaps a dream. Yet here I spend my days conversing with friends and battling foes, just like a worldly being. One might say you gave me new life by bringing me here. For that I feel indebted to you. 

“A dream” ties in with CF and SS’s ultimate chapters - iirc it’s the end of a dream (CF) and Following a dream (SS). But it falls flat in CF because Sothis is still here, thanks to the power of S Supports.

Sothis feels indebted to the person who brings her a “new life” where she’s able to converse with friends and battle foes - the someone to make her feel like a “worldly being” anew. Her reactions to the ball in the game also made me think Sothis, despite knowing she has no mortal form, wanted to interact with the world and wanted to have a body. Not maybe like the game presented the thing (sharing a body with Billy) but idk, maybe she could have transmigrated to a golem or something.

In a nutshell, it feels like Sothis knew her story and time in Fodlan was over, but still wished to interact with the world and have a material body.

Battle quotes :

Revenge, it lives!

Atone at once!

Sothis talks about revenge (against whom? Agarthans?) and atonement, clearly positioning herself as having more authority/higher rank than whoever she’s fighting.

From this and FE16, while Sothis doesn’t know she’s a goddess, she’s used to be respected and spoken with deference.

Sothis is benevolent, but cross her and she won’t forgive, nor forget, you.

Hm?! I cannot sleep here... I'll get kicked by a horse! 

TFW Nemesis is compared to a horse

Winter Sothis :

*laughs* I find human celebrations rather entertaining! It has been too long since I last made merry... 

Nabateans don’t have the same kind of celebrations, but since Sothis remembers a previous party where she had been merry, they might have had their own festivals...

When seeing joy on the faces of others... I feel my power grow. 

It may be a generic level up quote for a winter alt, but it could maybe be IS’s way of spelling out that Sothis likes to make people happy, so no, she’s not some kind of evil alien who invaded the land to make mole people sour and drown them for funsies

Atop my throne I waited alone for years and years, and slowly lost all hope I'd see another soul... 

Sothis was lonely waiting to see/meet someone for years and years while Rhea was lonely for 1000 years wanting to meet her mom again

Imagine if we had a game where Sothis could talk to her daughter and both met each other and stopped being lonely

But FE16 isn’t this game :)

Now come to me... Is this the warmth you seek? 

 :)

Rhea only wanted her mom to take her in arms one last time - imagine if Sothis had this line in FE16 with her daughter?

Under the Ethereal Moon! 

Calendar using moons was used by Nabateans, it wasn’t Seiros-made.

This really gives more and more credence to the theory that Seirosism is some sort of revised Sothisism, prevalent before Nemesis did his thing. Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if the Book of Seiros isn’t some sort of actualised Book of Sothis.

[period-dramallama]

A skim read of jean plaidy’s St Thomas Eve

For @thalassodromid bc this is our Niche

General thoughts on quality (TLDR)

-First off, I should give this book something of a pass because it was written 60+ years ago. Historical research, like science, Marches On.

-I skimmed it because i was not loving the style. There’s very little description, the pacing feels like This Happened And Then This Happened. With this story, you should have a sense of the stakes, the tension. It lacks atmosphere.

-This book really didn’t spark much emotion in me. I was heartwarmed and amused, but never frightened, horrified, fascinated or upset. I felt no panic when Meg got the sweat. 

-Honestly i was so bored I started wondering if maybe this is too difficult a story to tell, because i came in loving these historical figures and wanting content. How bored must the unobsessed reader be?

-Show don’t tell, Jean! Don’t tell me everyone’s very upset, show me them upset. Don’t tell me Meg loves Thomas, show their bond. Don’t tell me everyone loves Thomas for his honesty, show me him helping his neighbours.

-To be fair, there’s a lot to get through in 260 pages.

-I just love how historical fiction pulp novels have Book Club questions at the back. It just feels rather cocky, imo. Like you think your book is Deep enough for me to sit and ponder the characters. Like there was a question that was something like: “do you prefer Katherine of Aragon or Anne Boleyn” which was kind of hilarious because the whole book it was Poor Loyal Old Ugly Katherine and Six Fingered Anne Boleyn Is A Minx And Wants Thomas More Dead

Pet peeves

-at the beginning of the book, it says “Secretly Henry VII was unbothered by his wife’s death” or something along those lines. Given that Henry VII locked himself away after Elizabeth died and his mum had to step in and rule because he stopped functioning, this left a bitter taste in my mouth. Henry VII in this book is a Mean Evil Miser so of course he can’t love or be loved by a Good Woman.

-John More jnr being described as the family dunce. To be fair, maybe the book came out before we knew he was a translator too, but STILL. Don’t put John down to raise the girls up. He is valid too. 

-the language is what my old tutor would call ‘mock Tudor’. I think it was expected at the time that you had to try and make the language authentic- The Blanket of the Dark and the Man on a Donkey both use Tudor language. It really made the dialogue annoying. Lots of ‘tis and ‘twas and it was this close to beshrew me verily and hey fucking nonny nonny. Every time Alice said fuckign ‘Tilly valley’ I went AAAARGGGH. JUST HAVE HER SAY THE WORD ‘NONSENSE’. There’s a happy middle, imo, between too Tudor and too modern, and it’s quite a broad middle, you can move around a lot in it, but there are limits. 

-SPEAKING OF ALICE. Her character introduction was so good- first described as ‘an authoritative feminine voice’ *chef’s kiss* she stops a fainting Jane from being trampled at Henry’s coronation, accompanies her home and cares for her while simultaneously lowkey roasting her interior decoration. But then she becomes a bit of a caricature. When Meg gets the sweat she nags her for going near anyone who might have the sweat. The book club questions say ‘there’s more to her than meets the eye’ THEN SHOW ME MORE THAN ONE SIDE OF HER. Also Thomas loves her even though she’s ‘rude and stupid’ but Meg doesn’t understand why. Grr. 

-”mistress middleton will hear you [2 year old John] crying and box your ears” NO NO NO NO NO!

-also i get a 1950s Spanking Children Is Good Parenting vibe because Alice hits the Morelings with a slipper if they don’t study, and Tm’s described as too much of “a coward” (literally the word coward is used) to hit his children other than with peacock feathers.

-Utopia being described as an ideal state...it’s really more than that. I don’t like the idea that Meg and Thomas were okay with religious toleration but then Thomas became Consumed With Hate and he says “well religious toleration would be great in an IDEAL state...”

-Meg being horrified by heretic burning. Maybe the evidence of her views wasn’t yet available and so social mores of the 50s meant that writers and historians assumed that Of Course Being a Delicate Woman She Would Have A Natural Desire For Peace And Mercy. Grr.

-Too romancey. To be fair, Jean Plaidy wrote a lot of historical romances so maybe that’s just what she’s comfortable with (and these are historical figures that never get a chance to shine) but between Meg and Will, Clement and Mercy, Joan and Thomas, Giles and Cecily... it’s a bit like Pearl Harbour in that it’s hard to care about the cute romance when men are getting burned alive in the background. A good historical romance is more like Titanic: the lovers are directly connected with the Big Historical Events ongoing. Skip!

-in this book, Mercy thinks to herself that Meg would have Tm sign the oath, but Mercy would prefer tm to do as his conscience dictates...that feels like the wrong way round.

-Erasmus and Thomas More speaking in English...Doubt.jpeg. 

-Thomas More muses on how Complex men are because there’s Proud Cold Thomas Howard who is Soft for Simple Launderess Bess Holland...yeah given the multiple colossal power imbalances in that real-life affair, I’d be very surprised if it never strayed into abuse.

-baby Meg is a lil too precocious.

-dying Joan tells Meg to look after her father, no Joan stop I love you but don’t give a six year old responsibility, I don’t care if she’s six but acts eleven, looking after TM is Alice’s job not Meg’s. 

-Tm using the phrase ‘our little secret’ with Meg. The context is not abusive, but the phrase is so weighted, it’s like referring to something as “a final solution”: the famous meaning is too horrifying to feel comfortable with that combination of words in any context at all. 

-Joan’s younger sister being described as beautiful and flirtatious, and the whole bit about More fancying the younger sister but going for the older out of honour. The book says that More’s fascination with joan’s sister is the reason he realised he couldn’t be a priest. Given Joan’s 16, her sister’s 15 at the oldest, possibly 14. So a 26 year old can’t be a priest because he’s lusting after a 14-15 year old girl who is attractive and who has been flirting with him. Squick. 

-also no mention of erasmus at the end of tm’s life. Boo. I think a dude in the tower would think about his BFF of 30+ years who he hasn’t seen for 10+ years 

Good bits

-It’s obviously unintentional, but given how the word ‘gay’ has changed, i gave a little cheer every time a character was described as gay. Cecily and John are both gay, Thomas More is very gay, and later in the book wishes he could go back to being gay again. Loving the accidental representation 

-”a boy who is not worth the tossing” i have a dirty mind ok

-Joan getting something of a personality! She even feels insecure because she’s a normal person stuck in a family of geniuses.

-George Boleyn is described as being ‘a bright boy’ and later the girls joke that if they meet him they’ll probably fall in love THIS SO REFRESHING. Otoh, Mary Boleyn is slutshamed and Anne is a scheming minx so the double standard does spoil it a little. 

-Thomas More makes puns! At one point Alice says “more’s the pity” and then immediately says “don’t you dare make a pun out of that. i know u will. DON’T I AM NOT IN THE MOOD FOR PUNS” Granted, Plaidy stresses that his wit is never cruel or mocking (Doubt.jpeg) but i think this is maybe the funniest More. 

-It acknowledges the heretic burning! Not bad for 1950-something. At the end there’s a sort of Hm Thomas More Is A Complex Dude How Do We Approach Him page from H8′s POV.

-More’s father getting all misty-eyed when his son becomes Chancellor

-Henry VIII kissing tm’s forehead

-the flogging of the mentally ill upskirter being depicted

-Wolsey not being a caricature but a worldly and practical man. He’s explicitly described as “not a bad man”

-”He [TM] was no Erasmus, who, having thrown the stone that shattered the glass of orthodox thought, must run and hide himself lest he should be hurt by the splinters” not a very fair way to depict Erasmus (as he spent a lot of the last decades of his life arguing against Luther and trying to mediate between religious factions, esp in Basel) However, I like the metaphor

-Meg talking about how she and her sisters will always compare men unfavourably to their father... understandable.

-More explaining why Heretic Burning is Good Actually is done well

-Meg pointing out that More and Erasmus both criticised the Church, only it’s a bit half-baked because More never experiences any doubt or crisis over it. 

-Meg being torn between the Lutheran and the Catholic men she loves is at least some conflict and stakes when it finally shows up.

-Alice standing trial for dogknapping on page 195. A Big Lipped Alligator Moment, and I’ve no idea the source (i doubt Plaidy would make it up completely, it’s so out of nowhere) but it’s fun. It feels like one of More’s ‘merry tales’

“[Erasmus] read aloud to Thomas when he came home; and sometimes Thomas would sit by his friend’s bed with Margaret on one side of him and Mercy on the other; he would put an arm about them both, and when he laughed and complimented Erasmus so that Erasmus’ pale face was flushed with pleasure, then Margaret believed that there was all the happiness in the world in that room.” my emotions! my emotions! my ship is sailing, i repeat, the ship is sailing!

-”Meg, this is one of the happiest days of my life. it is a day I shall remember on the day i die. i shall say to myself when i find death near me: ‘the great erasmus said that of my daughter, my meg.’”

-”So the King likes verses!” said mistress middleton, her voice softening a little. 

“Ah, madam,” said Thomas. “What the King likes today, may we hope Mistress Middleton will like tomorrow?” Do I smell... flirtation...

-”His face was pleasant and kindly, [Alice] concluded....She would like to feed him some of her possets, put a layer of fat on his bones with her butter.” Does this version of Alice have a feeding kink I definitely think, in this ‘verse, Tm and Alice are 100% having sex.

-John Colet’s in it, though described as tm’s confessor (who i think was actually grocyn or linacre)

-Alice clearing a path for a fainting Jane with “Stand aside, you oafs.” alexa, play X gon give it to you. 

[kprciffdw]

Kim Possible: The Extremely Secret Files-Part 2

Back at the shuttle bay, they had a chance to stand around to take a look at Dr. Possible's shuttle. Ratchet: "Wow, I have to admit, that is one impressive looking ship." Kim: "Yeah, my dad built that, actually. Although, I'm quite surprised that both this and the space station were able to arrive here at such great speed; nothing that anyone back home has ever built came close to anything that phenomenal. Even my dad was surprised by that." Ratchet: "Hm…perhaps we can look into that while we work on it. The only problem at the moment is where to start." Kim: "I'm already on it."

Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator. Kim: "Wade, you there?" Wade: "Hey, Kim, how's the mission going?" Kim: "Um…we're kind of in a snag at the moment. We found the space station, but we nearly fell into another one of Drakken and Shego's deathtraps." Wade: "Yikes! That must have been rough." Kim: "Yeah, it was, thought we would never make it out of there alive. Fortunately, we were saved by someone who lives out here in the middle of space. Here, let me introduce you to him."

Kim held the Kimmunicator in front of Ratchet. Kim: "Wade, this is Ratchet. Ratchet, this is Wade, a 10 year old super genius who works with us on all of our missions." Ratchet: "Um…hello…Wade, it's…good to…meet you…" Wade: "Oh, my gosh! It that…an alien!? A real live alien!? I can't believe it! It's an actual alien! This is so much better than last week's episode of Space Passage and that was the best episode yet!" Ratchet: "Uh…is he OK?" Kim: "I…wouldn't worry about it too much." Ron: "Hey, Wade? You think that's cool? Check this out!"

Ron then held the Kimmunicator in front of Clank. Ron: "There's an actual robot!" Clank: "I beg your pardon, young man?" Wade: "Whoa! No way! A real live robot! And it talks!" Ron: "Yeah! And possibly so much more!" Clank: "I do not feel comfortable right now." Kim: "Guys, focus! We need to get started on how we're going to modify my dad's space shuttle." Ratchet: "Kim's right, there's a lot of work that needs to be done. We really don't have any time to mess around."

Kim looked towards Ratchet in a somewhat surprised manner. Ratchet looked back at her in as he seemed confused. Ratchet: "Uh, Kim? Are you OK?" Kim: "Huh? Oh! Yes…I'm…I'm fine. Let's figure out what we need to do."

Kim walked off, Ratchet continued to keep his eyes on her as she walked off, a small grin appeared on his face. Kim: "Wade, can you analyze the shuttle? Ratchet is planning on doing some modifications to it." Wade: "What kind of modifications does he have in mind?" Kim: "Um…well…he was thinking about some weaponry and I would guess a few other things, too." Wade: "I'll need to look into a lot of the alien technology. That might help with how we're planning to do this." Kim: "That would make sense, actually. Ratchet, you wouldn't mind if we look into a lot of this technology, would you?" Ratchet: "Not at all. What's mine is yours. Help yourself to whatever you need." Kim: "Sounds great. We're good to go, Wade. I…wouldn't be surprised if you were looking forward to…doing something like this." Wade: "Are you kidding me!? This is like a life long dream of mine! I can't tell you how much I have been itching to look into alien technology! I'll get on it right away." Kim: "Thanks, Wade. Let us know when you have finished sorting through all of this."

She placed the Kimmunicator on a nearby crate. Ratchet: "Well…um…sounds as though your…Wade is…very eager to help us out." Kim: "Yeah, to say the least. So…since there isn't anything we can do about the shuttle at the moment, perhaps we can use this time to…get to know each other?" Ratchet: "You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all. It may help a little with supporting each other through all of this."

Soon enough, Kim and Ron sat down with Ratchet and Clank and spent some time talking with them. Ratchet, within a large amount of time, told them about everything that he and Clank had been through. Ratchet: "So, anyway, after we defeated Drek and saved the entire galaxy, we have been pretty busy with a lot of the festivities. There were parades, press conferences, fancy dress balls." Clank: "And the wiener roast at Al's." Ratchet: "Oh! Yeah, that. And then things started to slow down a bit. After that was…uh…um…" Clank: "There was that Grand Opening at Groovy Lube." Kim: "Groovy Lube?" Ratchet: "It's a dance club…type…place. Don't ask about the name. I thought that was last week or so." Clank: "It was actually 6 months ago." Kim: "Hm, sounds like you guys have been through a lot." Ratchet: "You could say that. Just recently, we had an interview with a show called "Behind the Hero". Told them all of that stuff that we just mentioned to you guys. Seconds later, we were transported here where we spoke with some old geezer who goes by the name of Abercrombie Fizzwidget, who this the CEO of…"

Just then, Ratchet was interrupted by Ron trying to hold back his snickering. Kim looked at him in an annoyed manner, Ratchet and Clank did the same but in a concerned manner. Ratchet: "Uh, is he OK?" Kim: "Don't worry about it, he tends to get like this." Ratchet: "Um, OK…as I was saying, Mr. Fizzwidget, who is the CEO of Megacorp told us that…"

He was interrupted again by Ron snickering. Ratchet this time looked at him in an annoyed manner. Ron stopped after noticing that he was being stared at by both Ratchet and Kim. Ron: "Sorry, it's just Fizzwidget sounds like a funny name, that's all." Ratchet: "Yeah, that's great. So anyway, Mr. Fizzwidget told us about…"

Ron snickered yet again, which was really getting on Ratchet's nerve. Ratchet: "Will you stop doing that already!?" Kim: "Ron, seriously!" Ron: "Sorry, KP, I can't help it." Kim: "Perhaps you should go speak with Wade and check on how he's doing." Ron: "Copy that, KP, maybe he has found something interesting by now."

Ron got up and walked off. Ratchet: "Hopefully, that will be the last of any interruptions for the time being. Now then, Mr. Fizzwidget told us about a secret biological experiment that was stolen from the company by some masked thief and I was asked to get it back." Kim: "And you agreed to take on the mission." Ratchet: "Well, I did, Clank was offered a job as the head accountant of Megacorp, which included a sweet penthouse at a metropolis on another planet."

Ron rushed back over. Ron: "A sweet penthouse? Sounds like an awesome deal! Way to go, Clank!" Clank: "Thank you, Ron, and you are right, it is a great deal. Perhaps you would like to come see it for yourself sometime." Ron: "Would I ever?" Kim: "Ron, we're still on a mission of our own, remember?" Ron: "Oh, right, KP, get back Dr. P's space station, then check out the sweet penthouse on that other planet. Got it!"

Ron rushed off again. Ratchet: "Is he always this out of focus?" Kim: "You have no idea." Ratchet: "So…that's what we have been through. But enough about us, tell me about yourself. I'd like to know about you and the kind of life you have." Kim: "OK, well, first off, I'm still in high school and so is Ron. I'm the head cheerleader at Middleton High, our mascot is the Middleton Mad dogs. I pretty much live an ordinary life as a high school student, but I also live a double life as a teen crime fighter." Clank: "Really? I did not expect that." Ratchet: "Hm…an ordinary high school cheerleader living an extraordinary double life as a teen crime fighter. Sounds fascinating." Kim: "Yeah, you could say that." Clank: "So, Ms. Possible, what sort of things do you do during your double life?" Kim: "Well, I travel all over my home planet, fighting all sorts of criminals and evil masterminds, dealing with other kinds of worldly problems, save the world over and over again. Basic stuff like that." Clank: "Basic stuff? You mean you see this as standard?" Kim: "Pretty much. No big." Ratchet: "And I'm guessing that this is one of your missions, right?" Kim: "Yes, that's right. Although, I've never been to another galaxy before. In fact, going all the way out here isn't seen as something that's possible, yet." Clank: "Possible? You mean your kind is not capable interstellar travel?" Kim: "No, not yet, but we may be someday."

Ratchet seemed to be intrigued by Kim's story. Ratchet: "So, Kim, as a crime fighter, you must attract all kinds of danger. Sounds like my kind of lifestyle. You must be some kind of hero on your home planet." Kim: "Yes, that's exactly right." Ratchet: "Me, too! I've been seen as a hero throughout the entire galaxy. I have also done a lot of traveling, but to more than just one planet in actuality." Kim: "So, you've traveled to multiple planets? Hm, we haven't even started traveling to neighboring planets in our star system." Clank: "Traveling from one planet to another is a way of life here. This must seem like something that is new to you, Ms. Possible." Kim: "Yes…it is…very new." Ratchet: "Sounds kind of…primitive, but that doesn't mean you aren't fascinating or anything like that." Kim: "Thanks…" Ratchet: "So, anyway…back to the subject involving you. I'd like to know more about this double life of yours. How long have you been doing this?" Kim: "Oh, I would say a few years now; a little after I started high school." Ratchet: "So, how did all of this start?" Kim: "Well, it was right after my cheerleading tryouts, I was called out to…"

Kim went on to tell them about the story of her first mission. As she continued on, Ratchet became more and more fascinated by her. Clank took notice of his fixation towards her, which sort of concerned him. Kim: "So, after that one mission, my double life as an international crime fighter took flight and my reputation skyrocketed into fame." Ratchet: "Wow, that…is amazing. You're really something special, aren't you?" Clank: "Hm…the nature of your lifestyle sounds very complex. How are you with balancing these 2 separate lifestyles of yours?" Kim: "Well, dealing with high school is no easy feat; I manage the best I can, but crime fighting? That's easy. So not the drama." Ratchet: "So, you think high school is difficult but crime fighting is easy? You really are something else." Kim: "Please, it really is no big. Really. I can do anything." Ratchet: "Yes you can."

Ron walked back over. Ron: "Um, by the way, Ratchet, I've been wanting to ask you this. What species are you? I can't seem to figure out if you're some kind of strange…pointy… eared…tiger or cat person with a lion's tail or if you're some just other type of animal that we have never seen before. So what are you anyway?" Ratchet: "I'm a Lombax."

Ron stared at him with a blank look on his face. Ratchet: "An alien species?"

Ron continued staring at him. Ratchet: "One you've obviously never heard of before?" Ron: "Yeah…I'm trying to determine if you're a part lion, part tiger or some other cat thing or perhaps some other kind of other cat creature…person or something like that. Kim, can you help me out here?" Kim: "Let's just file him under "undocumented alien species" and leave it at that." Ron: "Works for me." Ratchet: "(groan) Fair enough."

Shortly afterwards, Kim did some more talking with Ratchet and Clank. She talked about her and Ron being friends since preschool, Ron's misadventures at Camp Wannaweep, Ron getting his pet naked mole rat Rufus. She eventually went on to talk about Wade, the 10 year old super genius who helps out Kim and Ron on their missions as well as brief them on their missions. Ratchet: "So, Kim, how did you and Ron meet Wade?" Kim: "Oh, well, that's an interesting story, it all started when…" Wade: "Kim, come in, are you there?" Kim: "Oh!"

She got up and walked over to the Kimmunicator. Kim: "Hey, Wade, did you finish up with analyzing all of the alien technology?" Wade: "Absolutely! I have also been looking into integrating all of this into your dad's space shuttle. While I was able to do that, I came across a very startling discovery." Kim: "What kind of discovery?" Wade: "It's something unbelievable! Your dad's space shuttle is partially made from alien technology." Kim: "What? Really? Do you know exactly from where?" Wade: "This is where it gets interesting. I'm picking up multiple traces of technology that originates from the galaxy that you're in now as well as a few others. And it's not just the space shuttle that I'm picking up these traces from, but also the space station." Kim: "No way! The Impossible Space Station of the Future? Did dad know about this?" Wade: "I don't know, I didn't share these findings with him, yet, but judging by how surprised he was by the speed of both of them, I would think he didn't." Kim: "Hm…very odd…" Wade: "But thankfully, from these findings, it should be a cinch to integrate a lot of the equipment that Ratchet planned on having installed." Ratchet: "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get started on suiting up this space shuttle with even more non-Earthly equipment." Kim: "Yes, let's do it. Drakken and Shego won't know what hit them."

Eventually, Kim and Ron worked with Ratchet and Clank on the modifications to the space shuttle. Ratchet: "OK, we should have everything we need to suit up this Earth vessel." Kim: "Yeah, I would think so, too. At least…hm…" Ron: "Well, yeah, sure. We have this thingy, do-hicky for that front part, then there's this thinga-ma-bob for the…that thing, and there's the what-chu-ma-call-it for the uh…what-chu-ma-call-it and then there's this strange thingy…for…the…thingy…I think…"

Ron looked towards Ratchet with a nervous grin on his face, Ratchet stared back at Ron in an annoyed manner. Ratchet: "Why don't you just leave the technical stuff to me, Clank and Wade? You just deal with…screwing in all of the loose ends." Ron: "Um…OK…"

Ron walked off. Clank: "An unusual young man, isn't he?" Ratchet: "Does this guy go on all of your missions with you, Kim?" Kim: "Um…almost…" Ron: "Hey, KP, check this out, I think I found something cool! Oh, no…oh, no! AAAAHHHH! KP! THIS THING IS TRYING TO KILL ME!"

Ratchet placed his hand on his forehead, greatly irritated, Kim was embarrassed. Ron: "AH! RATCHET! DO SOMETHING!"

At that time, they could hear the sound of something tearing. Ron: "Ah! Oh, no! Not the pants!" Kim: "Not again."

Ratchet went over to handle what was happening. Everything eventually quieted down. Ratchet then dragged Ron back alongside everyone else. He then let go of Ron and glared at him, Ron just chuckled nervously. Ratchet: "Don't touch anything! The last thing we need is something getting wrecked!"

Ratchet walked off as Ron watched him. Ratchet returned beside Kim and Clank. Ratchet: "Let's just get started on this before any other mishaps occur."

Everyone else agreed and walked off. Ron, noticing his pants, snatched them back, then was spooked by something and ran off screaming.

[charmingpplincardigans]

An angel and a demon share a drink on an anniversary, 34 AD.

I’m writing an Aziraphale POV follow up to What’s Done In the Dark, and while I like this scene, I don’t think it belongs in it, so here *dusts off scene and gives it a spit shine* please take this slice of pure celestial emotion as it is. I’ll have to write several of these feelings back into the fic in a different way, but enough of it will have to change due to setting change that it felt a shame to just trash the like five really good lines in it. I hope someone else finds them as lovely as I do. ❤❤ 

Aziraphale felt the love the minute it took shape. 

He and Crowley were together again at the foot of a hill under the stars. It was the least amount of time they had ever gone between meetings. They hadn’t planned it, they had both just come to investigate the same open wound in the fabric of the universe on the same night, the anniversary of the death of a carpenter. Crowley had already been there when Aziraphale showed up--sitting with his legs crossed, feet and ends of his robes buried in the sand as if he had been there for days and it was starting to cover him over as the landscape naturally shifted, face tilted to the sky. 

Crowley always had his face tilted to the sky. Aziraphale wanted to know if he was searching for something or simply waiting. He didn’t think he was allowed to ask. 

There were two jugs of what was probably some kind of ferment half buried in the sand next to Crowley. 

“Do you mind?” Aziraphale asked. “Or should I go elsewhere?” 

Crowley turned his head to look into Aziraphale’s face. He was still looking up, but had had to lower his gaze from the stars to the earth to get there all the same and it made Aziraphale feel condescended to. Crowley’s thin lips were pulled into a straight line. One eyebrow arched in a half-formed question. He didn’t ask it. Instead he turned back to his stargazing. 

“I don’t own the place,” he said after a beat.

Aziraphale decided to interpret that as an obtuse acceptance rather than a denial. He sat on the other side of the jugs and faced the opposite direction as Crowley so that when they both looked up the space between them became an empty vase made of night. 

"It's where they bring the corrupt and the wicked," Aziraphale said as he tucked his robes around his legs. "Your side might as well lay claim." 

The look Crowley answered that bit of small talk with could have lit a fire over the whole spill of the Dead Sea. Now that Aziraphale was closer he could see the demon's golden eyes were rimmed with red. He debated whether he should ask what was wrong, but decided that he'd done enough damage already.

Crowley took up one of the jugs and took a long pull from it. Then he held it out to Aziraphale, who accepted. It was a sort of ale apparently. Not Aziraphale's favorite, but not half terrible, all things considered. 

"You can feel it, can't you? The emptiness? I assume that's why you're here. I'm surprised there aren't more of you here to investigate."

Aziraphale could feel it, but he hadn’t been drawn by it. On the contrary, he’d been repulsed by it, which is why he was here. He wanted to investigate what it was the universe seemingly didn’t want him to see. Probably if there were any other angels close enough to feel it they were heeding the black ebb of it as a warning, but it was his duty as an emissary to the Earth to know and understand these things, so here he was. 

The desert chill was starting to seep over him. At least, he hoped it was from the desert and not anything more malevolent. 

"Makes it an odd place for you to be then,” he said. “Someplace where you expect there to be many angels. Considering how you told me they usually react to your presence."

"We," Crowley said. 

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale asked, confused. He took another drink from the jug. Judging by the state of Crowley's mood, he had some catching up to do.

"We for you and being here, not they. Since you're one of them. The whole heavenly host are a package deal, yes? Same actions, same intentions, same holy decree to follow." 

"We are all hands of the same body," Aziraphale said. "But we do not all have the same orders."

"S'a lotta hands," Crowley said. "Sounds grotesque when you say it like that."

"Well, it can be, quite." Aziraphale set the jug back between them. "But I think we're both used to that by now."

Crowley nodded and took up the other jug, which he cradled in his lap. "Four thousand years and every time I think I've seen everything they're capable of, they manage to surprise me." 

"The humans you mean? They are many more hands than either of us can lay claim to. Many more heads."

"Many more hearts," Crowley agreed. He took another long pull and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. 

Aziraphale hummed in response. "What does it feel like to you?"

"Sorrow," Crowley said. "It feels like a sorrow so deep it's ripped a hole into all the layers of existence. Down to the light in the stars."

"Hm. It feels like love to me. Bleeding and darkly grieving, but love nonetheless." 

"Two halves then. I wonder who they belong to."

"Maybe they belong to God. She was his heavenly father after all."

A haunted look of grief crumpled Crowley's face for half a moment and he dipped his head so that his long, curling hair could hang around him like a curtain. He was silent, except for one shaky inhale, and then he seemed to push it away. If Aziraphale hadn't been looking at him, had instead been looking at the stars, he would have missed it completely. He wondered what other secrets he had missed by taking his eyes from the demon.

Crowley shook his head, short and quick, as if to rid himself of the emotion, and lifted his face to the night. He flipped his hair back behind his shoulder with his hand and left his fingers tangled in it at the side of his neck, as if he’d been distracted mid-motion by a movement off in the distance. Aziraphale found himself wanting to know if it was soft, or if it was heavy, or if it was warm. He looked down at his own hands.

"When would God have learned to care about those who fulfilled Their prophecy?” Crowley asked. “Haven't They been too busy punishing people for simply living up to the flaws in Their design?" 

Aziraphale thought about this for a moment. Not because he needed to wonder at God's feelings on the matter, but because he'd never considered Crowley's. The demon was made entirely of questions. He and Aziraphale had rarely met throughout the whole history of time when Crowley was not working out some holy injustice or infernal puzzle with is mind. His whole being felt like want. What he wanted Aziraphale didn't know, but he had never supposed it mattered much if he ever found out. Crowley was a being of just as much power as him, surely if there were things he wanted he could manifest the getting of them. Except, perhaps, things that were out of his reach. The stars did feel so far away when one's feet were on the ground.

"Maybe they're his?" Aziraphale ventured, meaning Jesus. "Maybe he left them behind, felt them so deeply in this place they became real." That really had been a bad deal, but above his pay grade.

"Tangible," Crowley said. 

"Yes, you're right. Real isn't a meaningful measure. Tangible."

Crowley sat silently for the better part of an hour and Aziraphale sat with him. Crowley looked at his hands. He looked at the sky. He looked at the jugs between them. He looked at the sky. He looked at Aziraphale's hands where they rested, folded neatly in his lap. He looked at the sky. He looked at the sky. He looked at the sky. His eyes were so bright they might be mistaken for stars themselves. Aziraphale didn't know if that was meant to be a kindness, or a justice rendered in the light of his ruined existence, that kept him as a shard so far away from all of his coveted starlight. 

"Why do you never try to smite me?" he asked, eyes still tilted up. 

"Why would I?" Aziraphale asked.

"Because the others do. Because we're different. Didn't you get the memo? We're at odds." 

"Oh, I'd much rather keep it even if it's all the same to you," Aziraphale said. "Dreadful work, smiting. Makes such a mess." 

And you're so beautiful, he thought. It would be a shame to keep that from the world.

As thoughts went he knew that one was objectively disgraceful in the true meaning of the word. There was no reason for him to keep running into this enemy agent, to let him continue his work, except that it made Aziraphale's own work more interesting. And, when they ran across each other, his personal hours as well. Crowley was a bit wicked, but Aziraphale hadn't sensed anything about him that took pleasure in the truly evil. Mostly he took pleasure in changing fashions and new things people did with grapes and the night sky. All of those things, in Aziraphale's book, were good. Or if not good, worldly, common for their lack of grace and therefore not worthy of condemnation. So, it followed to reason, neither was Crowley. 

The smile that split across Crowley's face was the exact opposite of the grief from an hour before. A sense of relief flooded the area around them, Crowley letting go of this fear he had apparently been holding that Aziraphale might decide to do him in after all. He'd had that fear, but he hadn't let it guide him over his curiosity. Aziraphale was so intensely fascinated by that juxtaposition of feeling that he was about to cross over the border of the emotion and into smitten. What did any of that mean? What bravery was at work in this demon and why hadn’t God seen fit to keep him? 

That was when the love hit him. The wave of it overwhelmed him, but it didn't seem to have a direct source the way much of the love he felt did. Perhaps it was a side effect of the ghostly echo of the murdered son. Or perhaps it was his own and it was merely being bounced back at him like a refraction, like lamplight over water. Either way, the vase between them filled.

The lines of Crowley's body had relaxed entirely. He looked so loose Aziraphale thought he might slip back into snake form any minute and just curl up there in the sand. He did nothing to indicate that he had felt the change in emotional temperature, so Aziraphale did not ask him about it. 

Aziraphale did metaphorically hold his hand in it for as long as he could, until it got too hot to keep touching it. It was love, but like the tear it felt like it had been mixed with something dark and roiling. There was a different kind of aura around it, an aura of desire, which meant that it couldn’t be coming from Aziraphale. Or at least, he didn’t think it could. He thought about what he knew of desire, both human and angelic. He thought of two lovers from before the world they were sitting on had a name, one murdered and one destroyed. He thought about how, for angels certainly, desire’s end was death, and then he let his fear overtake him. 

He pulled away from the feeling of it, even though it pulled back at him instead of pushed him away. He felt the stretch of his aloofness tear like a muscle as he went and he gasped with the pain of it. 

Crowley looked at him, sharp and quick. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Aziraphale said. He took up his jug again. 

Crowley nodded, accepting the lie, and tilted his face back to the sky.

[ifanfictiondreamerworld]

Kim Possible: The Extremely Secret Files-Part 6

Soon enough, Kim and Ron sat down with Ratchet and Clank and spent some time talking with them. Ratchet, within a large amount of time, told them about everything that he and Clank had been through. Ratchet: "So, anyway, after we defeated Drek and saved the entire galaxy, we have been pretty busy with a lot of the festivities. There were parades, press conferences, fancy dress balls." Clank: "And the wiener roast at Al's." Ratchet: "Oh! Yeah, that. And then things started to slow down a bit. After that was…uh…um…" Clank: "There was that Grand Opening at Groovy Lube." Kim: "Groovy Lube?" Ratchet: "It's a dance club…type…place. Don't ask about the name. I thought that was last week or so." Clank: "It was actually 6 months ago." Kim: "Hm, sounds like you guys have been through a lot." Ratchet: "You could say that. Just recently, we had an interview with a show called "Behind the Hero". Told them all of that stuff that we just mentioned to you guys. Seconds later, we were transported here where we spoke with some old geezer who goes by the name of Abercrombie Fizzwidget, who this the CEO of…"

Just then, Ratchet was interrupted by Ron trying to hold back his snickering. Kim looked at him in an annoyed manner, Ratchet and Clank did the same but in a concerned manner. Ratchet: "Uh, is he OK?" Kim: "Don't worry about it, he tends to get like this." Ratchet: "Um, OK…as I was saying, Mr. Fizzwidget, who is the CEO of Megacorp told us that…"

He was interrupted again by Ron snickering. Ratchet this time looked at him in an annoyed manner. Ron stopped after noticing that he was being stared at by both Ratchet and Kim. Ron: "Sorry, it's just Fizzwidget sounds like a funny name, that's all." Ratchet: "Yeah, that's great. So anyway, Mr. Fizzwidget told us about…"

Ron snickered yet again, which was really getting on Ratchet's nerve. Ratchet: "Will you stop doing that already!?" Kim: "Ron, seriously!" Ron: "Sorry, KP, I can't help it." Kim: "Perhaps you should go speak with Wade and check on how he's doing." Ron: "Copy that, KP, maybe he has found something interesting by now."

Ron got up and walked off. Ratchet: "Hopefully, that will be the last of any interruptions for the time being. Now then, Mr. Fizzwidget told us about a secret biological experiment that was stolen from the company by some masked thief and I was asked to get it back." Kim: "And you agreed to take on the mission." Ratchet: "Well, I did, Clank was offered a job as the head accountant of Megacorp, which included a sweet penthouse at a metropolis on another planet."

Ron rushed back over. Ron: "A sweet penthouse? Sounds like an awesome deal! Way to go, Clank!" Clank: "Thank you, Ron, and you are right, it is a great deal. Perhaps you would like to come see it for yourself sometime." Ron: "Would I ever?" Kim: "Ron, we're still on a mission of our own, remember?" Ron: "Oh, right, KP, get back Dr. P's space station, then check out the sweet penthouse on that other planet. Got it!"

Ron rushed off again. Ratchet: "Is he always this out of focus?" Kim: "You have no idea." Ratchet: "So…that's what we have been through. But enough about us, tell me about yourself. I'd like to know about you and the kind of life you have." Kim: "OK, well, first off, I'm still in high school and so is Ron. I'm the head cheerleader at Middleton High, our mascot is the Middleton Mad dogs. I pretty much live an ordinary life as a high school student, but I also live a double life as a teen crime fighter." Clank: "Really? I did not expect that." Ratchet: "Hm…an ordinary high school cheerleader living an extraordinary double life as a teen crime fighter. Sounds fascinating." Kim: "Yeah, you could say that." Clank: "So, Ms. Possible, what sort of things do you do during your double life?" Kim: "Well, I travel all over my home planet, fighting all sorts of criminals and evil  masterminds, dealing with other kinds of worldly problems, save the world over and over again. Basic stuff like that." Clank: "Basic stuff? You mean you see this as standard?" Kim: "Pretty much. No big." Ratchet: "And I'm guessing that this is one of your missions, right?" Kim: "Yes, that's right. Although, I've never been to another galaxy before. In fact, going all the way out here isn't seen as something that's possible, yet." Clank: "Possible? You mean your kind is not capable interstellar travel?" Kim: "No, not yet, but we may be someday."

Ratchet seemed to be intrigued by Kim's story. Ratchet: "So, Kim, as a crime fighter, you must attract all kinds of danger. Sounds like my kind of lifestyle. You must be some kind of hero on your home planet. " Kim: "Yes, that's exactly right."  Ratchet: "Me, too! I've been seen as a hero throughout the entire galaxy. I have also done a lot of traveling, but to more than just one planet in actuality." Kim: "So, you've traveled to multiple planets? Hm, we haven't even started traveling to neighboring planets in our star system." Clank: "Traveling from one planet to another is a way of life here. This must seem like something that is new to you, Ms. Possible." Kim: "Yes…it is…very new." Ratchet: "Sounds kind of…primitive, but that doesn't mean you aren't fascinating or anything like that." Kim: "Thanks…" Ratchet: "So, anyway…back to the subject involving you. I'd like to know more about this double life of yours. How long have you been doing this?" Kim: "Oh, I would say a few years now; a little after I started high school." Ratchet: "So, how did all of this start?" Kim: "Well, it was right after my cheerleading tryouts, I was called out to…"

Kim went on to tell them about the story of her first mission. As she continued on, Ratchet became more and more fascinated by her. Clank took notice of his fixation towards her, which sort of concerned him. Kim: "So, after that one mission, my double life as an international crime fighter took flight and my reputation skyrocketed into fame." Ratchet: "Wow, that…is amazing. You're really something special, aren't you?" Clank: "Hm…the nature of your lifestyle sounds very complex. How are you with balancing these 2 separate lifestyles of yours?" Kim: "Well, dealing with high school is no easy feat; I manage the best I can, but crime fighting? That's easy. So not the drama." Ratchet: "So, you think high school is difficult but crime fighting is easy? You really are something else." Kim: "Please, it really is no big. Really. I can do anything." Ratchet: "Yes you can."

Ron walked back over. Ron: "Um, by the way, Ratchet, I've been wanting to ask you this. What species are you? I can't seem to figure out if you're some kind of strange…pointy…eared…tiger or cat person with a lion's tail or if you're some just other type of animal that we have never seen before. So what are you anyway?" Ratchet: "I'm a Lombax."

Ron stared at him with a blank look on his face. Ratchet: "An alien species?"

Ron continued staring at him. Ratchet: "One you've obviously never heard of before?" Ron: "Yeah…I'm trying to determine if you're a part lion, part tiger or some other cat thing or perhaps some other kind of other cat creature…person or something like that. Kim, can you help me out here?" Kim: "Let's just file him under "undocumented alien species" and leave it at that." Ron: "Works for me." Ratchet: "(groan) Fair enough."

Shortly afterwards, Kim did some more talking with Ratchet and Clank. She talked about her and Ron being friends since preschool, Ron's misadventures at Camp Wannaweep, Ron getting his pet naked mole rat Rufus. She eventually went on to talk about Wade, the 10 year old super genius who helps out Kim and Ron on their missions as well as brief them on their missions. Ratchet: "So, Kim, how did you and Ron meet Wade?" Kim: "Oh, well, that's an interesting story, it all started when…" Wade: "Kim, come in, are you there?" Kim: "Oh!"

She got up and walked over to the Kimmunicator. Kim: "Hey, Wade, did you finish up with analyzing all of the alien technology?" Wade: "Absolutely! I have also been looking into integrating all of this into your dad's space shuttle. While I was able to do that, I came across a very startling discovery." Kim: "What kind of discovery?" Wade: "It's something unbelievable! Your dad's space shuttle is partially made from alien technology." Kim: "What? Really? Do you know exactly from where?" Wade: "This is where it gets interesting. I'm picking up multiple traces of technology that originates from the galaxy that you're in now as well as a few others. And it's not just the space shuttle that I'm picking up these traces from, but also the space station." Kim: "No way! The Impossible Space Station of the Future? Did dad know about this?" Wade: "I don't know, I didn't share these findings with him, yet, but judging by how surprised he was by the speed of both of them, I would think he didn't." Kim: "Hm…very odd…" Wade: "But thankfully, from these findings, it should be a cinch to integrate a lot of the equipment that Ratchet planned on having installed." Ratchet: "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get started on suiting up this space shuttle with even more non-Earthly equipment." Kim: "Yes, let's do it. Drakken and Shego won't know what hit them."

Read more

[gallowsghost]

For whom the bell tolls

Once again did the doctor find herself in that fascinating, yet so ominous realm. But in a reality she sees as a dream, from her company of a similar doppelgänger. That proclaimed this to be a dream at least.

Josiah was wandering along side her doppelgänger, having small talk between the two. But she held her own book open which her future self instructed her to do as they traversed, taking pale sanded and pale soiled paths.

"So what about that then? All this?"

The doctor spoke out almost abruptly to the presence, having picking up from their last conversation. The crackling of bones and sifting of the ashy soil resonated beneath their boots as they walked along side each other. She was silent though and ceased her attention from looking at the mirroring image of herself to her right. Ezme...

The presence only turned her head to look at Josiah, thinking about her question for the moment before giving her straight forward answer, both her hands snaking behind her lower back to lock together.

"A prison. If you really think about it, you- we. Fit in here quite well."

Both her hands unlocked from each other as they came up, open palmed as one hand balled into a fist, keeping her index finger extended before letting it press against her other left digits with the open palm before speaking again as if counting them off, her voice heralding a slight tint of thought but oddly playful enthusiasm as well, which felt so off in a way for an unexplainable feeling.

"The murders, the grave robbing, the experiments, the framed executions, frauds. I only have five fingers, but there's more. But did you know how odd it is that a Matriarch can be in here? If they did something to cause an imbalance themselves? Of course you'd need to kill it, through the Stone reaper. Or by other powerful means, but I don't see that route working without the whistle. But to think a creature that was created for balance would interrupt it. But of course not saying on is in here, but imagine a monarch or Matriarch developing such bad intentions. But overall for your question, it is what it is. At least to me, however you may feel it is but it is quite entertaining to mess around with once you understand."

After the presence finished speaking, a soft chuckle left her as both her hands came together to rub both them together after, her head turning back to look forward. She was aiming to get to the rift she opened, from tearing from the doctor as she slept. But of course Josiah didn't know that.

She only slowly nodded. She understood it well and looked at this place a little more different. To Ezme, it was a playground. Regardless of the prison like features, but soon enough would they see it the same way.

"I guess you're right about that part of it being similar to a prison, but it seems innocent people were brought down here as well. I've come and gone from this place without missing conversation with a few roaming spirits. Children too. But yes, that would be quite an oddity to see one of those down here. But it's been awhile too that i saw the one back home in the ice fields. I still question to see how she's doing."

Her voice trailed off as her steps slowed for a moment, thinking about it before her train of thought was interrupted by the presence beside her, Ezme speaking aloud.

"Those innocent people and children were killed by unfair means. And avoided moving on, thus this place tethering their spirits and dragging them here, forever stuck in this little limbo. Or a fancier word, purgatory. Though as they may be spirits, they reflect on how they died physically which makes them look so lively and not ethereal. Wounds. Every bit of detail on the deceased, but they soon become maddened entities as well for how long they are exposed here. As other beings, evil. Cruel. Harsh. Bad intention filled beings. Devious things. Even other worldly creatures can be sent here, not only humans. Or those who cause an imbalance and interference, will be marked. That category will be marked. And once death presses on them, they are dragged here. There are details on getting out through death but that's something I'll leave alone for now. Mm? I'm sure something her size would be enduring that life without a care. One of the most powerful creatures. Yet know she doesn't care at all for she is quite the creature to not fret."

Her voice plummeted to a mere neutral at the end of her words, but at most she still held a slight curve of a smile. Occasionally did her pace stop for Josiah to keep up behind her at least. They are almost to their destination, for another stretch of walking. Counting her steps as she travelled along, having to remember where the rift was.

"I see. They come here by mistake then it seems then if they aren't based in that category. Wouldn't consider it mistake, but you know what I mean. I'd guess though if I physically died out there in the waking world, I'd come here? Sounds about right. At least how I see it through that, considering those categories. And yes, I suppose you're right. I'd still like to see her again too."

Josiah had a bit of a low voice as she spoke, still not fully understanding. But when she turned her head upwards, all she could see was the doppelgänger shaking her head in a disagreeing manner which confused her even more.

"You are correct about coming here if you died. But I think that ideal works differently. You'll know what I mean though in due time. Hm... You're not the only one wishing to see someone. Something. "

At that point, she only left Josiah in the dark, not referring to the fact of her disembodied form. Not even she knew, but referring to the factor of her future that were to come.

"What do you mean by that? Are you not just a figment of my own imagination? If so, you must share a live nature to miss something then which is quite strange. But if so, what would it be that you miss?"

The doctor was treading on a bit of thin ice by delving on that question which earned her a slight hiss from the doppelgänger.

The expression that the doppelgänger held was a bit of anger now for the moment towards Josiah’s question as Ezme suddenly stepped in front of her with a side strafe which made the flaps of her trench coat flow to the left almost entirely for how quickly she moved and along with dust to scatter suddenly from the dragging of her boots; with her right hand raising up almost instantly in a halt, causing Josiah to bump into it with the tip of her mask, the leather of her half fingered gloves protecting her palm from the sharpened beak of her mask.

"Best you keep believing that then if that's how you see me then, hm? And that question would be best left alone at the time. It's not important. But freedom is...”

Her tone had abit of an unfriendly ring to it as her sentences progressed. But it's not that it wasn't important either, as much as her nature had underwent a change she was still a human being that held a shred of care and need for freedom. A shred of humanity to hold it but barely. Though having such thoughts spark back up only whittled her once more, but soon enough did her composed expression return and she had settled down with much calmer words and with the hand that was held upwards still had suddenly gripped the beak of Josiah’s mask with a good amount of force and pressure, yanking it towards her standing point which caused her to stagger forward with a ceaseless action towards the doppelgängers moves. Though for its freehand, it had slipped behind her back in that process.

The doppelgängers head only lowered a bit so it was enough to meet the eyes through darkened lenses of Josiah’s mask, the beak of her own mask was inches away from Josiah’s own before speaking with a little more composure this time instead of anger.

“Even if you'd not get a proper answer, it's something you'd see soon enough so it's not necessary. Keep in mind. I know that you still remember. I know you know what I'm talking about. I know what you know. And I know what you care for most. Even if caring was never apart of you or your nature. You'll miss more than ever. It'll throw you into a frenzy. Though too; it's going to drive you mad in the long run. Be wary of that in the future, keep in mind that you may not get a chance."

After her words, with slight hesitance did she shove josiah away from her as she leant back up as well and faced away from the doctor with the turn of a heel. All in all was she referring to her own experience as well in that explanation. Though her loose palm had trickles of blood running down from the exposed skin of her finger for the sharpness of the steel mask beak she held onto tightly had sliced into the flesh of her fingers, for her gloves only covered so much half way. However though she did begin walking again with silence until the other would have asked another question.

As for Josiah though, she was trying to fix her mask from the sudden force that she was hit with to shove her back, her freehand fixing it by readjustment of her beak. But keeping in mind of what the doppelgänger said, she did understand it and she didn't want to acknowledge what was true. Though she knew it was, she kept most of it out of mind. But as her doppelgänger began walking up ahead, the doctor had lowered her head to look at the open book that held the chant of the rift. Looking over it before looking to the ground, observing the mangled sands and ash from her stumbling. With much hesitation though did she lift her head back and began walking again to catch up with her doppelgänger. The flaps of her trench coat flowing back with her sudden speed walking of a pace.

But with their passing time, came the final steps of the rifts enclosure which brought both the doctors attention up to it. But the presence stepped forth in front of Josiah once more, silent for that duration but waiting before doing anything for her to near as her hearing focused on the steps.

Josiah though kept her attention up, completely unaware of what was going to happen next for she was still so certain she was in a dream. She felt no need to be fully aware then as she stepped closer. But that all soon change when she realized how fast the doppelgänger swung around with a signature trait of magic and weaponized ability she used, the pale white violet tinge of a shard came directly at her like a blade, but incapable of moving out of the way fast enough to avoid it, thrown by a surprise assault.

In that split of a second, a sudden shock was throughout the doctor from the impact of the sharpened piece that easily penetrated her attire and flesh, her eyes widening to a slight manner of surprise and natural fear. But a final force of the embedded shard that knocked against her, buried the shard further into her heart and broke through bone more with ease, now which caused her to fall back onto the ground with a loud thud and up splash of blood droplets that trickled and flew from the penetrated wound, dust and ashy mist gathering up around her upon collision with the ground. She couldn't see where the shard was embedded, but she knew where it hit her. She couldn't move from the shock she was in, not even a word could leave her. The moment she knew it wasn't a dream, for she recognized that dying in her dreams meant an instant wake up. This one she wouldn't be waking from. Her eyes only met with Ezme who was standing where she was but moved closer, Josiah holding the book as she felt it being removed from her clutch before falling into Ezmes hand that caught her own. Only slowly placing it to the ashy ground. Her breathing was hitched and shaken, her body reacting differently from such trauma as most would fall unconscious before death of this kind of affliction. A stunned expression was all that flooded over her face, before it exchanged to mere tooth baring snarl in a way towards her doppelgänger but all hidden by her mask. Why would she- how could she? She’d been played... she merely felt it all before the final breath threatened to leave her, somewhat beginning to writhe which made Ezme waltz back a tad in surprise.

Josiah clutch onto a lifeless string once she fought the shock, encouraging her shaking right hand to come up and clutch the sharp shard that was deeply embedded still. But slowly shifting to try and get back up, using her other hand to make herself roll over so she could manage to her knees while slowly pulling the shard out, it was to extreme difficulties to succeed. But managing, it was hopeless as Josiah hardly balanced on her knees that lead to a fruitless attempt of getting to her feet. An audible, croaked growl of anger hardly passing her lips before reefing the shard out of her chest, a defined spurt of blood following the illuminating piece and splashing in droplets to the ground, staining ash soil. This was spite, pooled, seething cries that burned within her. Josiah didn’t need to see the look on Ezmes face to know what she hoped for. But alas... it called as Josiah gave in unwillingly, weight calling her back as her motionless form fell backwards to the ground once more. This time for good.

The presence had furrowed her eyebrows at the sight she witnessed, almost startled if she’d say so herself, she honestly hoped that it would've been a fast death there. The shock didn't even kill her, but the presence only shrugged it off with a soft exhale that left her. The smile Ezme had was a bit faded at this point as she stood there. But she has to, to make sure that she physically manifested and gotten back up before leaving. Only until then she remained silent and watched the body.

Though a very unusual sight caught her as the body had suddenly started seizing and twitching in awkward manners and contorting in, inhuman angles which filled the air with crackling and breaking of bones. But the sounds that left the body sounded almost pained, similar to a human cry of agony as if she was still alive. Maybe unconscious before death had fully taken affect against the body, but she knew now as Josiah was as good as dead. An ominous make up of shade and mist resonated from beneath the body, merely coaxing the very appearance of the body and shrouding the small atmosphere. Though she did see limbs jut through the smog like mist. A much louder sound filled the air again that was similar to the breaking of bones still though but worse, which started the doppelgänger from how loud it was.

Suddenly she flinched through natural reaction as some form of dampened mist and droplets ticked against her steel mask, her eyes focusing in through the lenses. All she saw was the crimson tinge before focusing back on the body. She was beginning to see a warped change that she wasn't expecting which made her back up a bit as the mist grew weaker and opened up sights more, causing her to purse her lips abit with a narrowed eye of a gaze.

A sudden loud shrill of a cry filled the air almost instantly after that, the smog like mist settling very slowly as the creature thrashed abit in the mist, sweeping most of the mist away in the process of its movements, to settle its bearings of what just happened but in no time did it settle in a hunched position from its confused fear and welling aggression of bloodlust surfaced. But without hesitation though did the creature rise up more on both legs with a slight ruffle of its feathers that was heard faintly, the elongated tail feathers fanning out in that process and soon folding back in place after doing so. Both its arms hanging at a limp manner before they moved, both the blackened and top scaled hands dragged against the ground as it leant up more, elongated and shallow curved talons dragged against the soil and left heavy markings in it, before rising fully. The soft clicking of blood droplets hit the ground as it was merely draining out of the entity through beak and its merely busted open ribcage and abdomen, it was a grotesque sight to see if more exposed, the open and snapped ribcage bones seemingly seen to twitch with low occasion. The trench coat of the entity hung open with the pale violet glow of the shard that still protruded from where it was last embedded, illuminated the colourless space, as the hood remained heavily draped over the creatures head almost having a few feathers protruding out the sides of the hood itself. The flaps of the trench coat was much more off the ground, a new result of an altered height, the feathered upper half was more to the sight as it took on s similar appearance to that of a avians, being nothing more than skin and scale to the talons below. But all the more appearance too. The sleeves of the trench coat was no longer meeting the creatures wrist, stopping a shallow ways up the forearms. But exposing a small portion of jet black feathers that fanned out slightly from the compact of the sleeves. Overlapping scales travelled down the forearms and all the way down to the overtop of the fingers that reflected ever so slightly from the lighting. But with that glimpse, the entity had lifted its head. Bringing in full view of the skeletal feature of the beak but further in the mask had very slight remnants of flesh that shallowly covered around the bony sockets, looking more fleshy than scale and feather, though if entirely guessed by thought, Josiah’s very own mask became infused with her face and flesh and entirely warped into hardened bone by the magic of the curse that awakened this side, but alone not only affecting this piece of attire. The right side of the hood remained draped over the right side of its face, having not fixed it on its own. The illuminating violet purple was all that was visible beneath the dark of the hood, just a simple slitted pupil. But behind it was sheer anger and aggression as she stood at a height beyond her once doppelgängers.

But suddenly did the entity reel back let out a far more louder and blood curdling shrill of a scream towards the doppelgänger that 'killed' her with the sound echoing out almost instantly, reddish droplets spraying forward from the gust of air that left the maw as the mist was sent flying forward a blackish tongue being visible upon its cry as further detail. Deep within that abyssal maw was a more human looking jaw that cried, like Josiah’s inner shell was consumed by this monstrous avatar. Instantly though after its cry, the being suddenly lunge forward in a sudden aggressive manner having both talons come up in a lower manner immediately as it sprung to life and kicked off from the soil with a frightening amount of speed, a blackish purple mist flowing off the entity as it moved suddenly, as the creature alone had seemed to constantly produce it.

The motion and sound startled the doppelgänger though which made her jump back as soon as the entity moved as well. The movement resulted in her falling back though through the rift and onto her rear outside of it, her clutch in keeping hold of the book was still intact as keeping it open. As much as she would've liked to have examined more, there was no chance, she could smell the bloodlust that emanated off that creature.

A loud thud that sounded more of like hitting a window almost, resonated out as the disembodied Josiah slammed beak first into the rifts barrier, preventing her from getting out though as well which put her in a slight daze as she stumbled back with her head throwing to a lowered manner. As much as it was still Josiah, the entity alone didn't know that. Yet at least. But the creatures only intent was to kill the one that killed it.

The doppelgänger had stared a bit wide eyed before chirping with a bit of a stupid aloud chuckle to herself, having found a bit of excitement in that sudden event. Her eyes remained on the entity on the dead side of the dimension as she stood up almost immediately with the support of her freehand. Though that hand travelled up against the front cover of the opened book now. Her eyes meeting both of the exposed illuminating ones from the other side of the rift now as she watched the entity regain its slight composure and bearings.

But before it could try and do anything else, the doppelgänger had slammed the cover of the book shut and the book itself which began closing the rift almost instantly. Though the last thing she heard was the shrill from the entity that echoed out into the living world as it closed up. Through this point did she prevent her own mark. But as well prevented Josiah from leaving or coming back without Ezmes book. All in place did the doppelgänger stand, book in hand as a palm kept flat beneath it and atop it, held in place. Like she was contemplating, though felt as if she held no regret for what she's done. It was in deep question as a few visible, clear droplets fell from beneath her mask.

It couldn’t be held, was it worth it? Ezme truly seen herself better than Josiah, but... one in the same deep within. It was simply true. Ezme would speak, though not to herself... a soft, but genuine tone present, urging like she was about to cry but warping to a gentle cackle.

“I am sorry...”

Like. Orchestrated destruction of ones own self, how far could it been taken?

‘ What will they think of you now? Do you believe you can still play this life right? ‘

[thefallencaryatid-blog]

conquests

Miles Davenport viewed every living and inanimate thing as a conquest or already rightfully his.

Camille, to him, was no exception to this rule. He had taken her virginity at her debutante ball and since then had a silent claim over her.

And to Camille, there was a comfort Miles provided. If one day she found out that all there was to love and life was what her parents had, she knew she already had that in Miles. Camille knew that Miles would always take care of her in the way she had grown accustomed. This gave Camille a narcissistic satisfaction that embarrassed even her. She hated that she needed men so …but she had made it a rule not to lie to herself and pretend that she didn’t. Camille and Miles had an understanding, their worlds were alike, and Miles had this way of treating Camille like a pretty little object…and that…at times…comforted her.

Day had passed into night on the campsite where the youths gathered, two worlds, one of wealth and privilege and one of uncultivated wildness. The heat settled heavily on everyone’s shoulders, and in the air there was something thrilling…intoxicating.

Camille sat pristinely amongst the others, dressed in a lace romper and gladiator sandals that gave her the illusion of elegant ruggedness. She leaned against the chest of Miles, who sat stoically with a brandy in his hand, an arm lazily wrapped around her. He wore the attire of the great white hunters from times passed, khaki trousers with a white linen button down, hunting boots to his knees, more for looks than practicality. Ask him about his clothing and he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you that they were his grandfathers, Astor Davenport, who owned coffee colonies back in the days where the “sun never set on the British empire”

Bakari intrigued them all with eerie tales of tribal voodoo. He was wrapping up his story about the animal voodoo queen, who controlled the spirits of all the dangerous wild things in their lands…she could direct them, he said, to do her bidding, and usually had them seek out the souls of the unworthy…

“She sends the wild things to these evil doers in the night. Lions perhaps, to rip out their throats. Or snakes to curl into the beds where they sleep. Elephants to trample them and crush their bones. Ants to eat their flesh. Some say she makes them face the death of all of these creatures, keeping them alive until they face the true suffering.”

Bakari took a long draw from his pipe. Long enough for Miles to shift in his seat and say, quite forcefully….

“Well, that’s the biggest load of shit i’ve ever heard, Bakari.” He laughed in a condescending way….a way that unsettled Camille but had all of the others cackling in the firelight at Bakari’s expense.

Bakari fell silent for a moment, as if considering. When his eyes met Miles’ gaze, Camille could see the challenge in his look, and watched, intrigued.

Bakari let out a low, menacing chuckle, the fire on his skin making him appear other worldly.

“It is bullshit, hm? Unbelievable, yes?”

Miles swirled his brandy glass, fueled by the support of those around him. “Well, yes, Bakari. If you expect me to believe that a bunch of half dressed idiots jumping around and repeating words that no one fucking knows has that kind of power….i’m sorry….but I never will.”

Bakari nodded, not phased, a small smile placed on his lips.

“I see. It’s the silly rituals that make it unbelievable.” He stood now, making his way to Miles. Camille moved from his lap, watching them both closely. “But you have rituals too, Mr. Davenport.” He paced slightly as he spoke…

“You lace up those ridiculous boots, as if they can protect you from briars and snakes and poisonous things. You dress in that costume, hoping the light linen and that silly little hat…” He tapped Miles’ hat, causing Miles to catch his wrist in a challenging move, Bakari laughing in response. “hoping it will protect you from the heat…” He slowly dropped his hand. “But you are the great white hunter, Mr. Davenport. You are unsettled by the voodoo queen because you know that she seeks….people….like….you….” He sprung up now, as if in tribal dance, mimicking the actions of the hunters… “You arrogant hunters with your double barrel rifles…shooting majestic beings behind the shoulders…hunting without respect…without consideration….” He paused, Miles standing now, threatened by Bakari’s actions…

“You are scared, Mr. Davenport. Because as much as you romanticize the idea of the hunt….you are unsure whether you are hunting….”

Bakari stopped mid sentence, Miles fuming…their noses touching…he finished in the most condescending way…a grin and a whisper…

“Or the hunted.”

And in a flash fists were thrown, Bakari and Miles, two worlds competing for the pride that only one could contain.