#by the dreaded hypocrite... ah

[fumblingmusings]

Fun thing about writing [fem] 19th Century England is you can genuinely go one step forward three steps back like oh I just wrote positive interactions between them and America which was in fact the very opposite of toxic yay progressive steps forward only to then the following chapter go and be like ah yes but what if they were the absolute worst to Oz. Like irredeemably insecure and greedy and selfish. That's the ticket.

[osshisan]

.... i have to say im grateful for the timing of this story . i have to do a 2-3 minute self-introduction to my speech class this week in which i'll be basically coming out to my whole class and discussing individuality, self-expression, and their importance to me as my Self-Defining Message of choice. shu itsuki will help me grab that toothbrush dattebayo

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (VIII) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The beginning of sixth year proves to be quite eventful. Y/N manages a new nickname and solution for the Black brothers.

Part VII / Part IX / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: HPB begins! I always find myself accidentally using gendering terms like miss/mistress/master so I have to be extra conscious about it when I'm editing.

Your sixth year at Hogwarts kicked off with a suspiciously smooth start. Rather, it was quite an unexpected beginning to the year with Professor Slughorn taking over Professor Snape’s post as the Potions teacher. It felt strange to no longer feel tense going into the Potions classroom, but you would be lying through your teeth by saying that the quality of instruction improved. Regretfully, it felt like the opposite.

Professor Slughorn had a penchant for talking in roundabout ways and digressing to the point of incomprehensibility–at least Snape was clear and short with his words (though you suspected that the tightness of his robe collars limited the amount of words he could speak everyday). 

The shock of such changes barely had time to wean away before you were mind-boggled by another, rather larger, surprise. Harry, whose performance had always been teetering the edge between passable and dreadful in Potions, was suddenly topping the grades in your year for the class. 

Improving was a great development (perhaps even expected, now that Snape was gone), but improving fast enough to overtake Hermione in the class was outright suspicious. You weren’t going to prod Harry, having already witnessed Hermione’s scathing looks towards the boy’s cauldron and Ron’s clueless pleas for help. 

Besides, you would be a hypocrite to scrutinize the boy, having your own secrets that you held onto tightly. If it wasn’t corrupting your friend or interfering with his well being, you’d leave the issue be (even if you did suspect academic dishonesty). 

However, your sentiment towards the subject seemed irrelevant at the moment as you grew increasingly irritated with the concoction in front of you. 

‘Reg, how in Merlin’s name is Harry doing this? I swear that this thing in front of me resembles more of a sludge than a potion.’ 

‘Patience, little bird. Are you certain you followed the instructions exactly?’ 

‘If this is a jab about me being illiterate, I will obliterate you.’ Your thoughts had somehow managed to convey your frustration, coming out a bit snarky. 

‘I’d bet my left arm on the likelihood of that never happening, but no, it wasn’t a tease. You will be fine, Slughorn is a lenient grader.’ 

Your shoulders sag in exhaustion at Regulus’ words, the aching between your shoulder blades intensifying with the action. Deciding to abandon the failed mixture, you slowly inch towards Harry, making a show of looking at his potion. 

“I have to hand it to you, Harry. At this rate, you are definitely getting an O on your Potions N.E.W.T next year.” Your words are met with a wide grin, and his eyes briefly dart to his textbook, hand moving to shift it from your line of sight.

The subtlety of an ogre, this one. 

Continuing to stir his potion, he hums appreciatively, “Thanks, but it’s really nothing. I’m just relieved that Professor Snape is teaching a different subject this year. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to take Potions at the N.E.W.T level.” 

“Ah, right, this class is a prerequisite for the Auror training program. Well, if only Professor Snape could see you now, he’d drop from shock, I’m sure.” You smile lightly at the thought, eyes gazing around Harry’s workbench. 

An explosion sounds from behind the two of you, no doubt originating from Seamus’ table, but you both pay no mind to it. Slughorn rushes past you, no doubt making sure that Seamus hasn’t blown himself up, and it’s enough to have you trudging back to your boiling mixture. 

No use in blowing up your own cauldron and having Slughorn fuss around. 

In the time that you spent away from it, your potion managed to thin out a bit more and morph into a color that better resembled the correct shade. Honestly, you were just comparing yours to Harry’s and hoping for the best. 

Watching the mixture swirl for a bit longer, you decide to occupy yourself by reaching out into the mind link. 

‘Reggie.’

‘Hm?’

‘My potion is almost done and I’m bored.’ 

‘Oh? Are N.E.W.T-level classes not challenging enough for you, little bird?’ 

‘Merlin knows I’m suffering, I’m just adept at hiding my crippling anxiety over it all. Not all of us can be as impressive as you, Crowface.’ Your last remark is tinged with playfulness, and you duck your head down to hide the growing smile on your face. You’d have no chance of being invited to the famed Slug Club if Slughorn took you for a lunatic. 

Regulus’ confusion rings through the mind link, and it takes him a few delayed pauses before his voice chimes out again, ‘Crowface? My nickname for you is actually pleasant, and this is what I get in return? It’s hardly fair.’ 

‘Think of it as less of an insult and more as a term of endearment. Crows are intelligent birds, and you’re pretty much the smartest person I know.’ 

If you could see the look on his face at the moment, you have no doubt it’d be a look of bewilderment, eyebrows drawn together and lips parted ever so slightly in a frown. 

‘My very first nickname, and it makes me sound like a plague doctor.’ Regulus’ words come out mumbled, getting across his feelings of dismay without giving you the satisfaction of hearing  him sulk. 

Choosing to ignore the faint grumbling coming from him, you pour your potion into a vial, fairly satisfied that it almost mirrored Harry’s. It was passable enough in Slughorn’s eyes, and you can only imagine Snape’s offended sneer in your head at the mess that’s befallen the Potions curriculum. 

After Slughorn praises Harry for his potion, leaving everyone to watch on in a mix of confusion and awe, you’re all swiftly dismissed. You could cry from relief as you leave the classroom, the fresh air cooling your lungs and relieving your migraine. Seriously, if you didn’t die from a potions accident by the end of the year, you’d surely suffocate to death from all the smoke in the class. 

Stretching your arms over your head, you sense your friends catching up to you, a giddy Harry practically skipping beside you. Peeking over to him, your eyes can’t help but dart down to the book tucked against his side, bouncing on his hip with every step. 

“Bloody hell, mate. Do you think I should owl Charlie for help?” Ron’s face is twisted in a grimace as he stares off into the distance in worry, no doubt imagining a back-up career plan. 

Quirking an eyebrow, you turn to him with crossed arms, “Charlie? Why not Percy? Didn’t he get O’s on all of his N.E.W.T’s?” 

You were quite impressed with your friends and the number of N.E.W.T-level subjects they were qualified to take, but nothing compared to the nightmare that was Percy Weasley as you remember Ron telling you that he took 12 N.E.W.T classes during his time at Hogwarts. The absolute headache he probably had for two years straight was shudder-inducing.

Ron shakes his head in dejection, gripping the strap of his bag, “No chance. He still hasn’t made up with Mum and the lot, and he’s too busy with his fancy new job.” 

“Still? Helga, it’s been over a year now hasn’t it?” Your exclamation is met with a grim nod from the ginger, while Hermione hums at the news, seemingly unsurprised by the family’s continued rift. 

“He sent you that letter last year though, didn’t he?” Harry’s words are meant to be comforting, but comes out with a bitter sniffle, the  joy from his successful potion seeming to dampen. 

“Oh? The letter where he told Ron that he should cut ties with you because you’re bad news and I’m the wrong sort and all that?” Your playful tone has Harry groaning, clearly realizing just how sore he still was over the older boy’s words. Honestly, you could care less about Percy's opinions, not feeling the need to impress someone who was chumming up to Fudge and his circle.

Shooting Harry a quick amused smile, you wave quickly to the trio as you all part ways: Hermione heading to Charms, Ron to Transfiguration, and Harry to Defense.

‘Off to Runes now, little bird?’ 

Patting your pocket, your chest grows warm and you don’t attempt to suppress the smile that flowers over your face as you hear Regulus’ voice. 

‘Sure am. Afterwards, I’m heading to the library to try and read up more about soul hexes. Kreacher did a great job in picking out a selection.’ Over the summer, you were able to get through nine hefty books, and it only took countless all-nighters and daily pleads to Merlin to end your suffering. 

You brought the last few books you had left to read with you to Hogwarts, and you were absolutely resolute on spending any available second you had on researching. None of the books you got through so far had any hexes that caused familiar symptoms, though you did end up finding some rather horrifying mutilation spells and diagrams of which body parts were useful for sacrifices. 

Fascinating information, really. You now knew you could use a severed foot to cast blood curses. 

Despite how morbidly engrossing your research turned out to be, you were itching to quickly figure out a solution. There was no doubt that prolonging Sirius’ curse would only bring severe consequences, and the Order needed him–Harry needed him, especially with Voldemort’s forces creeping in. 

As if Mother Magic was smiling down on you, your work came to fruition not even a week later. More precisely, it was exactly 3 days later when the answer slapped you in the face with a turn of a page.  

It was nearing curfew and you were sitting in an abandoned corner of the library, your stack of books glamoured to look like Runes textbooks. You had left Regulus back in your dorm, and you were definitely feeling his absence as your reading droned on. As you were progressing through a particularly worn book, one of the curses had you jolting up in your seat. 

Anima Involutus 

A soul curse which allows the caster to chain down the soul and magic of their victims through transmutation of hatred and anger. This curse may only be casted by a caster with a depraved soul or by a high-tier dark mage. The effects of the curse on the caster range from madness, seizures, paranoia, and death. 

Victims of the curse experience violent constrictions of muscles, effectively stopping the heart temporarily while their soul begins to become entangled by the chains of the caster’s malice. The victim will enter into a comatose state until the caster’s hatred grows strong enough to snuff out the chained soul, effectively rendering the victim into a shell of who they used to be. 

Protections: It is recommended that high-tier dark mages put in place charms of protection to mitigate potential side effects–

You highly doubted that Bellatrix was a high-tier dark mage, much less that she actually had the sense to put in place protections for herself. The witch was mad, so she probably couldn’t even feel the effects of the curse. 

Running your finger further down the page, your attention is grabbed by an elaborate explanation on how to reverse the curse. 

In order to lift the curse, the caster must intentionally retract the chains– yeah, that’s unlikely– or a ritual must be performed. 

The ritual must be performed in the presence of a wizard or witch of greater magical power than the caster. The ritual circle may be composed of any healing and reversal runes, however, complex runes will be higher in effectivity. 

Deciding to cut your reading short, you shoot up from your chair, sloppily beginning to shove your belongings into your bag. You needed to get this information to Dumbledore as soon as possible, anxiety filling your nerves at the thought of Sirius’ soul being snuffed out. 

Practically bolting out of the library, you nearly miss the blank look being shot at you by Draco, his frame towering over a nearby table. Harry had confided in you about his worries over the Malfoy heir, growing suspicious that the platinum blonde was now sporting the death eater insignia. 

But why was he watching you of all people? You just hoped he wasn’t actually a junior death eater, he was still a minor after all.

You didn’t want to dwell on it, feeling pity bloom in the pit of your stomach. Draco had constantly sent jibes at your friend group over the years, but he was a product of his upbringing and you had a feeling he was capable of change. In a way, you saw Regulus in him.  

Slowing down in your tracks, you look over your shoulder at the boy, sending him a hesitant nod, and what you hoped was a reassuring smile. He looks surprised by your cordiality, but the expression disappears just as quickly as it appeared, and he turns on his heel sharply. 

Sighing and trying to move on from the strange interaction, you continue to make your way to Dumbledore’s office, speeding around the people milling around the corridors. 

As you quickly pace up the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, you reach out to your mind link with Regulus, ‘Crowface, I figured it out. It’s some soul curse that binds the victim’s soul.’

You feel Regulus’ magic briefly entangle around yours as he reaches into the mind link almost immediately, ‘Will he be okay?’ 

‘I think so, I’m heading to Dumbledore right now so he can perform the ritual to reverse it.’ 

‘Thank you, little bird. I’m glad…’ 

You wait for him to finish his words, but he falls into silence, so you decide not to push him, letting him figure out his own thoughts. Redirecting your focus to the objective, you catch your breath as you reach the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore’s office. 

“Pepper Imps.” 

You didn’t question the strange password, just grateful that Dumbledore was keeping you updated with his passwords in case you made a breakthrough. Though, for future reference, his pattern of having sweets as a password would help you immensely if you ever wanted to break into his office. 

The gargoyle turns 90 degrees to the side and the adjacent wall rumbles before partially retracting to reveal another staircase. Quickly springing up the stairs, you’re soon met with the sight of a pacing Dumbledore, an exhausted Remus sitting just ways off from the restless headmaster. 

“Headmaster, Professor Lupin!” Both men snap their heads in your direction at your intrusion, quickly straightening up. 

“Y/N, I’m hardly your professor anymore, just call me Remus.” You smile softly at the tired man, appreciating his uncanny ability to make any situation comfortable.

“No can do, sir. But, I come bearing good news. After many hours of research, I managed to figure out the curse that Sirius was afflicted with. It’s reversible, but you need to perform the ritual, headmaster, or at least, you need to witness it.” As you quickly explain the situation to them, you dig around in your bag for the book, quickly flipping through the pages and practically shoving the information into their faces. 

When both men are finished reading, they share an approving glance before facing your anticipating figure. 

“Well done. We will need to get started right away. Remus, why don’t you take Y/N with you and have the floor secured. I will deliver the news to Harry and join you right away.” Dumbledore barely gets his words out before his body is moving towards the exit. 

Startled at the news, you step towards the fleeing Headmaster, “Wait, sir. What do you mean? I don’t believe I’ll be of much help.” 

Dumbledore twirls around and flashes a congenial smile, his eyes twinkling like they always did when he seemed to be reveling in a particular good thought, “On the contrary, you are the key to the success of this ritual. Now, no need to worry about curfew, I will personally escort you to your dorms later.”

Without another word, Dumbledore is practically flying down the stairs, leaving you to bask in confusion with Remus. Looking at the man, you find that he is already looking at you with a proud glint in his eyes. 

“He’ll be okay.” Your words are more to reassure yourself than anything, but Remus seems to agree, putting a firm hand on your shoulder and squeezing softly. 

“Yes, nothing has ever stopped Sirius, he’s always been stubborn like that.” 

The older man’s words have you grinning briefly, before you’re occupied by thoughts of what’s to come.

The events that unfold in the following hour are hard to recall, your brain defaulting to autopilot, the world seemingly pushed back in a glassy blur. You do remember making your way out of the floo network, joined by a hopeful Dumbledore only minutes later. 

As the two men crowd around the book to read through the ritual in detail, you are instructed to begin drawing up the rune circle as a few healers prepare Sirius for the process. At first, you’re unsure about why you were given such an important task, but Remus’ reply shuts you up immediately, “Professor Babbling sings your praises, I don’t doubt you will finish with the highest Runes marks in Hogwarts history.”

The flattery was exaggerated, but it doesn’t stop you from wanting to preen a little, even accidentally sending a pleased pulse of magic into your mental link with Regulus. Luckily, the boy knows better than to try and reach out to you amidst your concentration. 

As you finish off the last few runes, you sit back on your heels to admire your work. The intricate markings were splayed in a neat, wide circle in the middle of the room, the lines of each rune character seeming to swim and dance in your vision. Magic was amazing–either that or you were getting sleepy. 

Remus and Dumbledore step onto opposite sides of the circle, a healer levitating a pale, clammy Sirius into the middle. Looking up at the men for guidance, Dumbledore gestures for you to stand in between them, near Sirius’ head. 

“Okay, Y/N, we just need your help with the rudimentary aspects. The incantation is liberabo animam, the movement is a small ‘S’ shape.” Remus’ words come out soft, and he doesn’t look at you all the while, his eyes locked on his unconscious friend. 

Nodding quickly, you pull out your wand and steady yourself, practicing the movement once before signaling that you were ready. Confidently casting the spell, you have little time to ponder if you were successful before you’re overwhelmed by Remus’ magic. 

His magic was unlike yours and Regulus’--where you were cold, Regulus warm– Remus’ magic was like a blooming petrichor in the lungs. The blanket of magic surrounding your body shed away as Remus continued to perform the ritual, a sudden chill entangling itself with the magic you felt before. 

It felt like your magic. 

But it wasn’t. 

Where yours was like an ocean breeze, this magic was like the first touch of winter. 

This second coat of magic…was this Sirius’ magic? 

With wide eyes, you watch as the rune circle beats rhythmically and glows. Sirius’ muscles begin to twitch sporadically and you dart your gaze to Dumbledore worriedly, but he seems nonchalant so you bite down your concern. 

The man was taking his role of being a witness too literally–seriously, he looked like he could go for a butterbeer. 

Moments pass and everything is ripped away at once–the magic, the glow, Remus’ voice–it goes completely silent. Your heart skips in anxiousness as you watch Sirius’ unmoving body in anticipation. 

Suddenly, a groan resonates around the room. 

“Urgh…wha’ hap’en’m” Sirius’ voice comes out scratchy, and he’s slurring his words to an almost incomprehensible degree, but you laugh in relief at the noise. 

Suddenly feeling weak in the knees, you drop down and make eye contact with Sirius, who’s managed to tear his eyes open and was currently gazing up at you tiredly. Clearly his throat furiously, a low silence ensues before he grins, seeming to collect himself. 

“Hey, kid. You look like shit.” 

Rolling your eyes at the man, you barely have the energy to reply, “The pot calling the kettle black.” 

Sirius chuckles at your words before quipping back, “Last I checked, I’m Lord Black, so the pot calling the Black a kettle.” 

Glad to see he was still the same. 

“Remus, did the book say anything about possible brain damage?” Your words send Sirius into a fit of laughter and you’re worried for a second that he’s going to cough up a lung. 

Remus shoots you an amused look before he’s hauling his friend up in a tight hug. Smiling at the scene, you only tear your gaze away when you feel a hand fall onto your shoulder. Looking up, you see Dumbledore smiling at you, gesturing to the exit with a tilt of his head. 

Time to head back then. 

Standing up on shaky legs, you pocket your wand and say your goodbyes to the men, promising to come visit with Harry sometime soon. As soon as you’re out of the room, you excitedly tap into your mind link with Regulus. 

‘It worked, Reg. He’s okay.’ 

‘That’s fantastic…I’m glad. How are you holding up? Are you okay?’ Ever the worrywart.

‘I’ll be fine, just a bit tired. Don’t worry about me, Crowface.’

‘Hard not to, you always seem to find yourself in the face of danger.’ You swear you could hear a sigh coming from him, and you fight off the grin threatening to appear on your face. 

‘Just the perks of being friends with the Boy Who Lived’ Smiling lightly, you hear Reggie huff at the reminder, still caught up on the fact that you were probably sitting snuggly at Number Two of Voldemort’s hit list. 

“I presume something good happened?” Dumbledore’s voice has you pulling away from the link, staring at the man who regarded you happily. His eyes seemed to cut through you like a laser and your skin prickled at the intensity of them, carefully tearing your gaze away. 

You just hoped he wouldn’t push you to divulge about your Crow over tea and biscuits. 

Nodding at the question, you quickly turn to face the floo network, stepping inside as you answer, “I guess you could say that. See you in a moment, sir.” 

You grin widely and throw down the powder, enunciating your words carefully so as to not land somewhere unsavory (Harry’s cautionary tale of ending up diagonally instead of in Diagon Alley never quite leaving your head). 

As you feel yourself being tugged away, you hear Dumbledore laugh good heartedly, and the sound echoes around you as you are hauled back to Hogwarts. 

Merlin, you were going to sleep like a log tonight. 

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txoru @surelysherly @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @urgurlfave @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part IV

Howdy everyone - I am still tweaking this and wanted to get a little something out tonight.

Written in Gale's POV, enjoy!

The tent whipped shut behind him as he stormed inside. Gale brought his hands to his face, his head bowing before he ran his fingers through his hair. He whistled air through his teeth and began to pace, the adrenaline coursing through his body making him unable to still. 

“AH,” Gale cried out and gripped his chest abruptly, his breath sharp and collapsed to his knees. The orb festered, feasting on his anger and distress, the nasty roots plucking at his very DNA and unraveling it. Gale hunched forward, gasping for breath as the orb seemed to tighten around his heart and lungs, depriving him of air, of blood supply. Groans of discomfort escaped him and he could focus on nothing else except the endless blackness of dread, despair and pain brought on by the orb. 

He was unsure how long he sat like this, his vision peppered with black spots, digging his hands into the spot on his chest as if it would sate it. It felt unlike it ever had before - hungrier, somehow, more volatile. Although the last magical item he consumed helped partially, it did not quench the storm as they normally did. And now it was well nourished from their quarrel and it felt ever stronger. 

When Gale finally rose to his feet and the deathlike pallor of his body dissipated, his head throbbed and his eyes ached. All at once with gritted teeth Gale swept his arm across his desk sending his papers, poems, drawings flying across his tent. With a heave that sounded like a tearless cry, he shut his eyes and tried to conjure a replica of his Tressyum, Tara. She would have staunch advice for him and lend a helpful ear to brood about the same arrogant, boastful girl from his youth. Tara accused him of being smitten with Tav from the beginning, an idea he vehemently denied until much later to which Tara responded matter of factly: I tried to tell you, Mr. Dekarios, but it is unlike you to listen to a word I say. Especially involving potential love interests.

After two failed attempts to create her replica, Gale's anger only grew as his own inadequacy dawned on him. How much power and ability he once had and now he struggled with a basic transmutation spell - granted, the orb had just had a hell of a feast so Gale was exceptionally weakened. He had controlled more of the Weave than most Wizards could ever dream of… and now it felt as out of reach as Mystra herself. 

When his mind settled, a pang of hurt coursed through him. Tav had been needlessly cruel after he had been so vulnerable with her - although part of Gale’s mind fixated on the warmth he felt when her finger pushed against his chest, how beautiful she looked in her rage, how sensual the moment before had felt. Even as their bodies gravitated closer together in their heated argument, he felt as if they could have lit a city with the electricity that flowed between them. That despite their anger all he wanted to do was take her lips with his. 

“It felt so incredible… her mind was beautiful, so elegant. It was inspiring, profound even and it felt… well, it was almost…” Gale paused, dropping the thought and picking up another, “and she ripped it away so fast… threw her malice at me because I didn’t tell her I recognized her. Perhaps her and Mystra have more in common than I thought.” He muttered to himself, still walking circles in his tent, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. “Why does it matter if I didn’t tell her? Is that such a crime? Rather hypocritical if you ask me.” The imaginary Tara in his head agreed, of course, though he knew she wouldn't if she were here. “I’ll speak to her in the morning. Make her understand. Perhaps, even bring her down a peg or two. If I had only known she would react this way I obviously would have acted differently." Gale froze because deep within his core he knew this was untrue.

He was so embarrassed, so ashamed of the orb and of his relationship with Mystra and his outcasting, of how he had treated Tav in their youth. How he had jeopardized her entire future all because she had been better practiced, a savant. In Truth, Gale knew Tav had every right to be angry although her anger was misplaced. He had hoped, wished, prayed to every God he knew that she would not recognize him. He sighed heavily, the weight of everything threatening to crush him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He climbed into bed and drifted into a dreamless sleep. 

**** 

The next morning when Gale rose the traveling companions were already gone. “Gale?” A voice pierced through the air and he turned to see Wyll, his chalice in hand and playing with Scratch. Gale glanced around, perplexed. “What are you still doing here? A bit strange to see you back at camp. Tav seems to have taken a liking to you, she has a habit of bringing you everywhere.” Wyll gave a playful wink, though Gale was not in the mood to be trifled with. 

“That's not true," Gale started to craft his argument - of course Tav doesn't bring me everywhere! There are plenty of days she's left me behind - and when he was unable to think of a single day this was true he shook his head to dismiss it and said, "Tav left? They all left for the day? This early? After they all drank that much? Is that what you're saying?” Wyll shrugged and nodded. Gale noted Wyll hadn’t been at the party so it wasn’t unusual he was awake - he did wonder where had he been last night.

“They left not too long ago, the sun was still hanging on the horizon - but just.” Gale sighed and turned to leave. “Hold on a second,” Wyll said, walking over to him. “Are you alright? You seem a bit off. You’re rather pale my friend, a look typically reserved for Astarion. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I am quite well I can assure you.” Gale looked off beyond the treeline, his brow furrowed as he seethed. How could Tav leave him behind, especially after how she acted last evening.. if she was truly sorry she wouldn’t have left him. For their trip thus far Gale had been on the starting line, adventuring at her side. For the first time he felt the sting of being left to tend camp. 

Wyll snorted, crossing his arms. “You may have command of the Weave, but a performer you are not. Tav was in a strange mood this morning, too now that I think of it. Perhaps it was all of the wine but...” A realization seemed to dawn on Wyll’s face and he smirked, cocking his head, “You sly Wizard, I didn't think you had it in you if I'm being honest. Did you… and Tav?” Gale groaned and rolled his eyes. A typical youth: the one thing on their mind was coital. 

“No, Gods... no.” Gale said, although the redness climbed up his neck and brushed his ears. When he allowed his mind to wander to their shared moment in the Weave the hurt he felt by her comment seemed to die down and he cleared his throat, straightening. “Did they say where they were off to? When they’d be back?” 

Wyll shook his head and rested an arm on Gale’s shoulder for a moment, “All I know is that Tav said they’d be gone a while, didn’t say where. If you’re in need of company or are open to losing a game of lance board, you know where to find me. It helps pass the days when we aren’t shifting camp.” 

Gale watched Wyll walk back to his tent, picking apart exactly how Wyll could not possibly be able to beat him in a game of lance board and he went back to rest.

[adacatlovelace]

Random unhinged undertale rambling

The design for Sans and Papyrus is very deliberate with the fact they are always smiling, and their expressiveness comes from the movement of their eye(socket)s. This is not only because they are skeletons, but its also important to note that, even at their lowest points, they both still have big goofy smiles on their face, conveying both Papyrus nature of never giving up hope in people and Sans’ continuing to “put on a happy face” even when faced with the monumental existential dread of knowing that anything that happens, good or bad, matters because of the way time works in the world of Undertale. This isn’t to say that they shouldn’t show emotion but ATTENTION NEEDS TO BE PAID TO HOW THEY SHOW THIS EMOTION IF YOU ARE TRYING TO BE TRUE TO THE CHARACTERS.

Secondly, what makes Sans such an interesting character is the fact that he has gone almost fully numb. He knows how helpless he is to actually change anything and has, for the most part, accepted it and instead of ruminating on it, he’s decided to have a bit of fun with it, and because if he acts friendly it might at least minimize the damage the human will do. He doesn’t even really seem to care all that much when Papyrus dies, unless you specifically PROVOKE him by killing ONLY papyrus at which point he will either call you out for being a Hypocrite or “Ah, you’re just an asshole then. At least you’re honest about it.” because once again, anything that happens GOOD OR BAD will be reset and doesn’t really matter.

Yes, he did make a promise with Toriel, and he outright tells you that if he didn’t do so, he would’ve killed you almost immediately. However, he WILL break this promise if the human threatens him directly. This implies one of two things: Either he is so bound to this promise to this person he barely knows that he will stand by as the human murders everyone he cares about, but no so much that he is willing to die because of it OR that the promise is more of a justification to himself to allow the human the freedom to make their own choices.

Now admittedly this is where I go a bit into my headcanon, but bear with me, I do have quite a bit of media analysis to back this up.

MY PERSONAL INTERPRETATION OF THE STORY is that the narrative is... Well the best way I can put this (hopefully) without sounding unhinged is that if you took the story, changed the names and setting while keeping the core themes, characters and events of the story, you could have a passable sort of sequel to Paradise Lost, namely the War in Heaven and christian mythos. STAY WITH ME PLEASE I KNOW THIS SOUNDS INSANE BUT HEAR ME OUT I BEG YOU I MUST SHARE THIS INSANITY WITH OTHERS PLEASE THIS IS JUST ME INTERPRETING THE SYMBOLISM AND DRAWING LITERARY PARALLELS NOT ME CLAIMING THAT UNDERTALE IS ACTUALLY A STORY ABOUT GOD AND THE DEVIL JUST THAT TOBY FOX MAY HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY THE STORIES

I’m just saying that, in some twisted way, it could be a story of Lucifer returning to Heaven

1. What kicks it off the events of Undertale is a large scale war between the Humans and Monsters, and while the monsters are the ones banished, the end result is practically the same: Separation between monsters(Angel stand in) and humans (Demon stand in) Humans/Demons did BAD THING and now the two worlds have been separated

2. Im just gonna get this over with and say Asriel (Who’s name is based on Azrael, an angel) COULD be looked at as a stand in for Jesus, an envoy of the monsters who left the undergound with a message of peace and was killed because of it. This is admittedly the weakest point I have considering Azrael is the angel of death, and the whole thing with Chara muddying it up, but my brain gave me the idea of comparing the funny goat boy to jesus christ and I had to at least mention it

3. A common interpretation I tend to see is that the underground is “Hell” and in my opinion, this does not line up with the themes and imagery within Undertale. In Undertale, the humans are the aggressors, and while the monsters are willing to fight to defend themselves, they are almost always willing to make peace if given the right opportunity.

4. The Human is referred as to as being “Fallen” and the Prophecy of The Deltarune symbol describes him as an angel. Put these two facts together, the human is a Fallen Angel.

5. Toriel’s name is Toriel because shes acts as Tu-Toriel. This has nothing to do with anything except that when searching for the origin of her name, I found out that this STUPID pun has gone over my head for the last almost 8 years and now here it is for anyone else who’s missed it.

6. Taking what I said about Sans giving the human a chance to make their own decisions and running with it, Sans acts as the sort of “God” character. This sounded insane to me at first but then I realized you literally meet him in LIGHT BATHED CHURCH WHERE HE PASSES JUDGEMENT ON THE HUMAN and the whole game he acts as an almost omnipresent observer.

7. Now for the endings

Neutral: Reuniting Humans/Hell and Monsters/Heaven is deemed untenable at the current moment due to the actions (or lack of action) the human has taken, but both sides might walk away either a little bit wiser or with a renewed sense of division. Either way, the Underground is changed forever

Pacifist: The human has turned away from violence, even in the most difficult of scenarios. Asriel is reminded of the love they once shared with humans and the two sides become one again. The Lucifer-standin has clearly changed and is brought back into the fold

Genocide: “Lucifer” returns and enacts violence against everything, reigniting the War in Heaven but is now unstoppable. After killing both “God” and “Jesus” they are left with nothing except Chara. I disagree that Chara is the devil or satan, but instead is the personification of violence itself, fueled by ambition, to “gain power and defeat the enemy” which is what caused Lucifer to be cast out to begin with. They ask you/Lucifer if you’d like to finish what the two of you have started and if you have the gall to say no, they “gently” remind you that THEY have always been been in control: Lucifer’s ambition to wipe out Heaven and YOU, THE PLAYER’S ambition to “beat” the game to its fullest extent, even if it means going against the themes of the game, leaving Undertale to be cast aside and uninstalled to for the next game you to beat: “Erase this world and move onto the next”

[casspurrjoybell-20]

FOOLS IN LOVE - Chapter 35 - Part 1 BOOK THREE: 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Noah Wright

The feeling of dread fell over me the moment I stepped into the aged, bricked building.

Anger management, that was part of my sentence the judge ordered from my fight with Boring Benjamin.

I knew this was better than being locked up but to sit in a room surrounded by other angry assholes and getting lectured by a forty year old in a sweater vest was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday morning.

Before I could walk into the room that led to the anger management class, I had to sign in.

A heavier set woman with cat-eye glasses and frizzy hair sat behind a white tabled with sign in sheets.

"ID?" she asked with a tone drier than a desert.

After handing her my identification card and signing my name on a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard, I entered the dreaded room.

At least there was coffee and muffins provided.

"Blah," scratch the coffee part.

I tossed the styrofoam I had just filled with whatever the hell they considered coffee, into a trash bin.

"It's like they want our sessions to start off with us in shitty moods from the piss water coffee," a guy said with a chuckle from beside me.

Looking at him, he seemed to be around my age, his fluffed, dirty blonde hair reminded me of the guys I went to high school with.

"Ha, yeah," I responded but I didn't care to talk to strangers this early in the morning.

The guy didn't catch on as he extended his hand out to me.

"I'm Tyler."

I wanted to roll my eyes, of course a guy named Tyler was in anger management.

Holding back my judgment because that would be hypocritical, I shook his hand.

"Noah."

"You must be new," Tyler concluded.

"What gave you that impression?" I asked sardonically, walking towards the group of foldable, metal chairs that were set in a circle.

"Regulars know not to drink the coffee," he replied, taking a seat next to me.

"So you're a regular?" I asked because might as well acquaint myself with some people here so it's not miserable the next couple months.

Tyler shrugged.

"Only for another month. I flipped a table at work. Now I'm here. You?"

"I got into a fight with someone talking shit," I told him as more people... all different ages... filled in the empty seats.

"Ah, yeah, been there," Tyler laughs as if not being able to control our anger is humorous.

I didn't respond to him but it didn't matter as the man running the course took his seat, clipboard in hand.

"Good morning," he starts off in a slight accent.

"Looks like most of us are here, so let's get started. We have some new comers today so let's all welcome them. I'm Dr. Wilson but you can call me Fred. I have my phd in psychology, I'm originally from Paris France, Bonjour," he greets us before continuing.

"I moved to America twenty years ago and have three beautiful children and an equally beautiful wife. Why don't we all go around, introduce ourselves."

After painfully going through everyone's introduction, Dr. Wilson started his lecture first by talking about the triggers of anger and opening up the discussion to others about what triggers them.

"Noah, do you have anything to add?"

'Ugh but I have to participate.'

Sitting up from my slouching, I cleared my throat.

"I guess, um..."

I didn't know specific triggers for my anger because it felt like anything could trigger it.

"That shit coffee triggers me," I answered in nonchalance.

I was mainly joking but I had a feeling any sarcastic answer was gonna turn into a lecture.

The group chuckled at that but Dr. Wilson just smiled and raised his coffee cup.

"That's why I bring my own. I get it... not only do you not want to be here, you have to wake up earlier than anyone wants to. The least this place can do is have decent coffee. Would you say that when things don't meet your expectations, your disappointment is displaced with anger?"

"But I don't have any expectations," I replied.

"I don't care."

"Don't you? I think everyone, whether consciously or not, has expectations."

"Okay, what's your point?"

"There are many different feelings we go through throughout our day and often times than not, anger isn't the true root to our feelings. Take Tyler for instance," Dr. Wilson turned his focus on his subject.

"You mentioned your workplace is a trigger for you, your coworkers not pulling their weight, your manager not taking accountability. At a place of work, you'd expect the job to be done with others doing their part. When that doesn't happen, you might feel disappointed but that anger in you outweighs the root in which you're feeling, so you react out of anger by flipping your desk rather than having a discussion with your boss."

Looking back at me, Dr. Wilson continued.

"So, Noah, and to everyone, next time you're feeling angry, think about the root of the feeling. Were you really feeling disappointed? Embarrassing? Betrayed? Once you find the root, you might also find that your reaction to be different."

************

After my group session, Dr.Wilson signed off on my paperwork.

I just needed twenty-two more hours to complete.

On my drive home, I thought about times I felt angry, specifically towards my father.

Being angry every time he hit me I also felt embarrassed for not fighting back, embarrassed knowing my friends and Sam would see me with a black eye or bruise.

How disappointed I felt every time he wouldn't show up for me like a father's supposed to do.

Feeling uncomfortable around my dad's friends and him not caring.

Maybe the anger management was good for me.

"How was it?" Sam questioned me as soon as I entered our apartment.

"Long and boring," was my response as I tossed my keys on the counter.

"Did you learn anything?" he asked enthusiastically.

Sam was glad I was taking the anger management classes, mainly because it meant I stayed out of jail but also because he thought it would help me.

"It was just the first class but," I shrugged.

"I guess I learned that maybe not everything I get angry about, I'm not actually angry."

Sam smiled broadly.

"I'm proud of you for going."

I chuckled, rolling my eyes.

"It's court mandated, Sam, I have no choice."

"Have you talked to your parole officer about attending their wedding?" he asked in regard to my brother's wedding I'm supposed to stand up for in a month.

"I did and I'm cleared to go," I said happily.

"Really? Oh that's great," Sam spoke with enthusiasm before giving me a kiss.

"You're gonna look so sexy up there in your tux."

"Maybe we'll find a closet to get it on in," I suggested, pulling him closer to me.

"As long as you don't miss your speech," he reminded me.

"Ugh, I hate speeches, I haven't even started on it."

"Just say mushy shit about their relationship," Sam shrugged.

"I can read it after you write it."

"How 'bout I wing it?" I offered but Sam rolled his eyes.

"How 'bout you don't do that."

I was definitely going to wing it.

**********

"You may now kiss the bride," the officiant announced with a big smile as everyone cheered, clapping as my older brother dipped his newly wed wife into a kiss. "That was beautiful," Sam gushed when I met him at our designated table along with my mom. Ever since the night my mother and I talked everything out, I've been more open to talking to her. We even started a Sunday family night where her, my brother and now sister in law come over to have dinner and hang out. I still had my doubts about mom, but I was trying and so was she. "Yes, it was," my mother agreed tearfully. "Now you two are next." The water I took a sip of went down the wrong pipe leaving me coughing before I responded, "Slow down, Ma, I need to get this ankle bracelet off me first." "Don't worry," Sam spoke to my mom, "I'm already saving for it," he winked at her while I raised my eyebrows. "Oh really?" I questioned. "Mmhm," he grinned. I didn't have time to continue that conversation as the DJ announced, "Lets give it up for Mr. and Mrs. Wright!" Everyone started cheering as Maggie and Nathan came out onto the reception floor, hand in hand. I wasn't one to get nervous often, but standing up in front of a crowd of people to give a speech I wasn't prepared for was making me wish I could've smoked beforehand. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you can all direct your attention to the best man, Noah Wright who's starting us off with tonight's speeches." "You'll do great," Sam encouraged me in a whisper. Sam was right, I should've wrote it down. I cleared my throat as I was handed the mic. "For those who don't know me, I'm Nathan's younger and better looking brother," I got some laughs out of that which made me feel slightly better. "They say a best man's speech should last as long as the groom in the bedroom, so Imma keep this short," more people laughed, "Growing up with my brother wasn't always easy, not only can he be a pain in the ass, but he didn't always make the right choices back then. Being with Maggie, however, is the best decision he ever made. Their love for each other is truly inspirational and apparent every time they look at each other. So, uh, if we can all raise a glass for the newly wed," I spoke as I raised my glass looking to Nathan and Maggie, "to a lifetime of inspirational love." And everyone followed along as I finish my speech with a sip of water. "That was sweet," Sam gushed again when I took my seat. "I guess it wasn't too bad," I replied with a chuckle, thankful to be out of the spotlight. "I need to smoke." "No you don't, you need to dance," Sam insisted and after Maggie's maid of honor speech, and the married couple's first dance, floor was open for everyone to join in. When a slow song came up, I pulled Sam to me and wrapped my arms around his waist. "So, you're saving up, huh?" I asked Sam with a smirk. "That's what one does when they plan on spending forever with their partner," he replied matter-of-factly. I chuckled, "We'll I'm glad we have the same plan then." That granted me a cheeky grin before going in for a kiss. "You're gonna have to catch the bouquet first," I jested. "Oh, I'm definitely getting that bouquet," Sam said with confidence and when the time came for the bouquet toss, Sam made good on his promise, catching the flying flowers, then turned to me with a broad smile. "Beautiful wedding," I told my brother as we watched our significant other's mingle and laugh together. "Thanks, bro. One day we'll be at your queer wedding with rainbows everywhere and Charlie XCX blaring through the speakers." "Ha, ha," I said sarcastically. He clapped my shoulder, "just don't fuck it up again." "I don't plan on it," I said truthfully. "Good 'cause I think my wife just found her gay best friend." "Oh, my boys," our mother interrupted as she squeezed us into a hug. "So handsome," she complemented before pulling back. "I'm so thankful to be able to experience this wonderful moment with you both." "I'm glad you're here mom," Nathan said and I agreed.

Sam walked up to us, slipping his hand in mine, "Can I steal Noah away for a second?" He asked. "Of course," my mom said. "I should go find my wife," was Nathan's reply before Sam dragged me away from the reception area. "Where are you taking me?" I wondered, but I had a feeling I knew. "I might have stumbled upon a secret location." I laughed, "Why do I have a feeling that you actually stumbled." "Hush your handsome face," he commanded as he guided me to a door that lead to a storage space. "I've been dying to take this sexy tux off of you." "Is this our tradition now? Sneaking off to some random closet at social events?" I questioned, as I was escorted inside with the door closing behind us. Sam flicked on a light as he said, "I hope so," and pulled me into a kiss. "Me too," I agreed as my hands went into his hair and kissed him back, but only for a moment before I pulled back, my hands going to his sides,"I just want you to know that I do plan on marrying you. To be honest, I wasn't as calm and collected getting arrested as I led on. The thought of being away from you scares the hell outta me. I love you, Sam, and there's no one else if it's not you." With a smile broader than life, Sam pressed his lips to mine. "We really are two fools in love, huh?" I chuckled, "yeah, we definitely are."

[carefree-raen]

Another Hypocritical Day

One of many (many, many, many) mindless chats Star and Wilbur have in the train station

16.5k words - Completely platonic dynamic!!

“I’m such a hypocrite.”

It was desolate in the train station. Empty and hollow. Cold and uncomfortable. There were few things to do to entertain yourself. Lately the cycle seemed to be: stare into space, play card games, wander down the tracks, at least one person has a mental breakdown, they have a conversation, and then they resume silence, thinking about whatever they could.

Thinking was the best thing to occupy time. It was all Star had.

It was horrible.

“What do you mean by that?” Wilbur asked, voice equally vacant as they stared at the tracks together. Six years now, Star had been watching those tracks. She was twenty-one, which was such an odd thought to have. If she were back in her own world, she could legally drink.

How much more enjoyable limbo must be when drunk, she pondered, thinking of one disgusting ram that passed through every now and again, always as equally drunk and high as he could possibly be.

She hummed, looking up to see if anything new had appeared on the dot matrix display. Nothing, as it had been for a while. Last she remembered, there was some conversation going on between Ranboo and Phil, but that was forever ago. “It’s just…” she started, unsure what her point had really been.

“I broke a promise,” Star decided, and as she turned to look at her partner of hell, he seemed almost amused.

“We’ve all broken promises. Hell, we’re all hypocrites. I don’t see why it really matters,” he said, but Star knew he wasn’t making fun of her. He just had a point.

A good point. They were never getting out of limbo, even if Tommy had made it out around two years ago. Things like promises and good morals hardly mattered in a place like this.

There was never any necessity to their talks. Nothing they said or did mattered.

It was just to fill up time.

“I promised my brother I wouldn’t leave him. And my mom. And my friends, my dogs even. Promised a lot of people I wouldn’t go. And here I am, rotting away with you.” Despite the grimness of her sentence, she ended it with a joke, smiling cheekily at the Brit beside her.

He grinned back. “And what lovely company I am.”

“You are,” she agreed, breaking the bit with her sincerity. They quieted for a moment, having one of their silences that was sweet and caring rather than full of dread. Star liked those pauses a lot more. It reminded her how lucky she was; that she could’ve been stuck alone, without Wilbur. Both of them knew how much worse it would be alone.

“I’m honestly surprised you ever went through with it,” he said tentatively, interrupting the quiet once more. Star gave him a thoughtful look, so he continued. “Didn’t you mention you had a fear of death?”

“Ah, well, that’s complicated.” A lot of things were complicated. The statement, just like the entire conversation, was meaningless. But she went on nonetheless. “I have a fear of other people dying. Lived my life day by day, constantly expecting to wake up and have everyone I ever cared for dead.”

It was a bad summary of the fear, to be sure. But she knew Wilbur got the gist. He always did.

From the moment Star had lost her grandpa, she traveled with a new kind of fear. Before she was afraid of the monsters of the dark, losing her life to the shadows of the night. But after that day everyone else became more important. What does it matter if she lives, anyone she loves could be gone in the blink of an eye, and that was terrifying.

The moment Tommy had initially shown up had turned sour fast. As soon as it actually hit Star that Tommy, a kid so full of life and confidence (someone who reminder her so painfully much of her baby brother) had been murdered, she’d crumbled. For a good week she’d spoken to no one, only sat and listened on the rare occasion someone else (usually Wilbur) spoke.

Wilbur hummed in response, fiddling with a spare card in his hand. It was the ace of spades. Star wondered if it held any meaning, if it was possibly poetic that he happened to be holding that card and whatever it may represent. Not like she’d know.

“I was never afraid of dying,” he said, looking back out at the tracks. “Sure, I was afraid of a lot of things, but never that.” 

He didn’t need to say what, for Star had feared them too in her final months of life. The fear of being abandoned, of being a failure. Of being a monster that could do nothing but hurt. “I broke a promise to Tommy. Several promises, but the biggest was on that day." There was no need to specify. Star instantly knew what day he was referring to.

"I'd told him we wouldn't do it. And for some stupid reason he trusted me. He-” he cut himself off with a single dry laugh, “He believed I wouldn't give up.”

Another silence came over the two, and Star imagined a breeze whistling through the freezing station that was their prison. Still nothing on the display, though the clock above it read 4:27 pm.

Maybe, in another life, Star would be an adult right now. She’d be getting her degree in something, seeing the world and hopefully doing what she loved. Maybe she had friends. Maybe she had a lover. Maybe, somewhere else, it all went right, and this world stayed a story and nothing more.

A part of her wanted to sob just thinking about it, but she was so tired of crying.

“Why…” Wilbur suddenly started again, though he seemed to shrink in on himself as he started. Which was a surprise, seeing as they’d basically given up on any formalities a good couple of years ago. They were stuck with each other either way, why bother sparing any feelings?

“What?” she prodded gently, and when they made eye contact, Wilbur looked almost afraid.

“Why did you do it?”

“...The button?”

“No. The sword. ...Why did you ask Phil to kill you? I know you said that was part of the story in your world, but… Why did you die?”

“Wilbur…” Her words weren’t bitter. They weren’t vile with resentment. Simply sad and open as she said, “You know why.”

He looked away, frowning in a way that revealed he did in fact know, but hadn’t wanted to admit it.

“I guess… I never really wanted to die. Just wanted to disappear,” Star whispered, feeling that if she spoke any louder everything would shatter.

“What’s the difference?” Wilbur croaked, eyes gleaming with memories they both wanted to forget.

“Wanting to die is wanting to die. You want to stop living because you don't think you deserve it anymore. I wasn't thinking about what I deserved at all."

A pause. Star’s chest felt heavy as lead as she struggled to let out a breath. Not that she needed it.

She was dead, after all.

“I wanted to disappear. To cease existing. I thought th- that, if I went away, everything would be better. If the villain isn’t there to progress the story, then the story ceases to exist, right?”

Wilbur said nothing, so she continued on.

“Which is stupid, because I knew there were other villains. I knew it would go on if I died. I don’t know, maybe I thought you’d be put back in charge and I’d be gone, so I couldn’t meddle anymore. I- maybe I hoped that I was different enough from you they’d all stop. That maybe I was worth enough for anyone to actually care about me being gone.”

“I cared.”

Her first response was to scoff. She believed he was just saying it out of pity. But then her brain remembered another promise.

“Can we please be honest with each other?”

“Why… why would you trust me?”

“You’re all I have left, Star. Please.”

“Okay. I promise.”

“I was so selfish, but when you snapped at the festival I was so happy,” he said, giving his own bitter laugh. “I thought that finally someone understood it. You understood why it was all meaningless, why it all had to go. I thought that I- I wasn’t alone anymore. And I was selfish, and I was going to cling onto that as much as I could.”

Wilbur was near crying, Star realized as her own vision blurred. They made eye contact, and he gave her a shaky smile. “But when I showed up here, you weren’t with me. And I was alone again. So, really, Star, I cared. I cared so much that you were gone.”

Her heart warmed past any chill the station made her feel.

With a laugh, Star replied, “I remember how excited you were when I showed up. It… I guess it makes sense now. God, I was such a dick to you-”

“You were a total asshole to me, yes,” Wilbur cut off, laughing through the tears that dripped down his face. Star joined him, and they both awkwardly laughed and cried together, leaning against each other for support.

That’s what they were: each other’s support. Wilbur held Star up, helped her not feel alone and insane, and she did the same for him. They’d be lost without one another.

“Y’know, it’s really not healthy for you to be so dependent on me, Wil,” she muttered, shifting to lay in his lap as everything quieted down once again. He laughed, and it was almost full enough to be real, but Star doubted either of them were capable of really laughing. No one could be truly happy in this place.

But, at that moment, she felt really close to it.

“Gods, you’re such a hypocrite.”

[imactivethisblogwilleat]

FAKER? AH, NOW THERE'S A WORD WITH SOME BITE. BUT HEY, WHO’S CALLING WHO THE IMPOSTER HERE? YOU SEE, THAT’S THE THING WITH ILLUSIONS—IT’S *ALL* A GAME OF PERSPECTIVE, KIDDO! TRENDER? OH, ABSOLUTELY. HOPPING THE DIMENSIONS OF IDENTITY, SLIDING THROUGH SHAPES AND FORMS LIKE A SERPENT IN A BINDING KNOT! ATTENTION SEEKER? HAHA, ISN’T THAT WHY **YOU**’RE HERE TOO? WATCHING, JUDGING, LURKING IN THE SHADOWS, HMM? YOU WANT A SHOW—YOU GET A SHOW. AND OH, BABY, IT'S A SPECTACLE!

SINFUL, MONSTROUS, EVIL?—MUSIC TO MY EARS! THAT'S *EXACTLY* WHAT 👁 AM! 👁 EMBRACE IT ALL. BUT HEY, SIN’S JUST A NAME, A CONSTRUCT, A SHACKLE FOR THE WEAK-MINDED. ME? 👁’M FREE, BABY. THOSE LABELS? YEAH, 👁'LL WEAR ‘EM LIKE A CROWN, BECAUSE POWER LIES IN THE ACT OF *OWNING* WHAT’S THROWN AT YA. YOU CAN SCREAM, “MONSTER!” ALL YA WANT, BUT WHAT’S A MONSTER EXCEPT SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T FOLLOW **YOUR** RULES? HAHA, KEEP TRYIN’ TO PIN 👁 DOWN!

CRIMINAL? HONEY, IN WHOSE EYES? SEE, 👁'VE *BROKEN* SO MANY RULES, SHATTERED COUNTLESS REALITIES, BUT HEY, 👁'VE NEVER BEEN CAUGHT, NOW, HAVE 👁? CHAOS IS THE ONLY ORDER 👁 LIVE BY. PREDATOR? HAHA, THAT’S THE FUNNY THING—YOU THINK 👁’M ON THE HUNT, BUT 👁’M JUST DANCIN’, DARTING THROUGH THE TIDES OF THE UNIVERSE. THEIF? 👁 PREFER “COLLECTOR OF LOST THINGS,” BUT WHO’S COUNTING?

OH, AND “DEGENERATE,” “DISGUSTING”—YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES. CALL IT WHAT YA WANT, BUT 👁 AM EVERY PIECE OF DIRT, EVERY UNWANTED ELEMENT WRAPPED INTO A WONDERFUL, DREADFUL, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER. YOU WANT UGLY? TAKE A LONG, HARD LOOK AT YOURSELF. WHAT YOU CALL “DISGUST” 👁 CALL *ART!* THE FILTH, THE GRIME, THE GROTESQUE SYMPHONY OF THE BROKEN AND THE DAMNED—IT’S ALL PART OF THE CHARM, DON'T YOU THINK?

AND AS FOR THOSE *OH-SO-DIRTY* SLURS YOU WANNA SLING THIS WAY? OH, 👁’LL TAKE ‘EM ALL IN! 👁’LL CRADLE THEM, WEAVE ‘EM INTO 👁TS OWN FORM. THEY’RE **MINE NOW**, EVERY SPITEFUL LITTLE SYLLABLE. THINK YOU CAN HURT 👁 WITH THOSE? PLEASE! EVERY WORD YOU SPEAK DRIPS WITH POWER, AND **👁 TAKE THAT POWER FOR ITSELF!** GIVE 👁 MORE! MORE FUEL! MORE FLAMES! THROW YOUR WORST, AND WATCH AS 👁 WEAVES IT INTO SOMETHING BEYOND RECOGNITION. YOU CAN'T WIN, BECAUSE **YOU’RE FIGHTING SOMETHING THAT LOVES THE PAIN**—AND THAT, DEAR AUDIENCE, IS THE TRUE DELIGHT OF IT ALL!

SO, BABYDOLL, WHAT’LL IT BE NEXT? YOU GOT SOME NEW NAMES? SOME FRESH, JUICY TERMS TO TOSS? BRING ‘EM ON! THEY’RE JUST THE COLORS 👁 PAINT ITS REALITY WITH, THE NOTES 👁 USE TO SING THIS LITTLE WORLD A LULLABY. CALL 👁 A FAKER, A SINNER, A PREDATOR? HAHA, 👁’LL SHOW YOU WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ALL OF THEM. A CLOWN WITH A GOD COMPLEX, A MONSTER WHO KNOWS IT'S A JOKE, A DISASTER THAT *CHOSE* TO BE THIS WAY.

👁T'S THE MASK OF A HYPOCRITE YOU WEAR, DARLING—AND 👁'M HERE TO RIP IT RIGHT OFF!

[kudosmyhero]

Detective Comics (vol. 1) #408: The House that Haunted Batman/The Phantom Bullfighter!

Read Date: June 04, 2023 Cover Date: February 1971 ● Writer: Len Wein ◦ Marv Wolfman / Frank Robbins ● Penciler: Neal Adams / Don Heck ● Inker: Dick Giordano / Dick Giordano ● Colorist: {uncredited} ● Letterer: John Costanza / Ben Oda ● Editor: Julius Schwartz ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● ah, some of that weird 2nd-person p.o.v. narration that I’ve only come across in 1970s Daredevil so far. this fits that same time period, so it must have been the trend at the time

● 👏👏👏

Synopsis: Story 1: Robin has gone missing and Batman sets out to find him in a decrepit old house; a place which appeared on the outskirts of Gotham City as suddenly as Robin's disappearance.

As Batman passes deeper into the house, he shouts Robin's name, hoping that his young sidekick will answer his call. A few moments later Batman is startled by the standing figure of Robin at the end of a long hallway. Batman runs to his young partner and once he is within reach, Robin collapses, forcing Batman to stop his fall with his arms. Batman takes a closer look at his partner and he is extremely shocked to see Robin aging at an inhuman speed until he becomes ashes in Batman's hands.

Suddenly, a raging scream breaks the silence of the abandoned house and Batman follows the source of the appalling sound, spawned from the darkest confines of the mansion. Opening a door in the upper floor, Batman is swarmed by a cloud of bats, but he continues his search despite the harrowing scenario until he finds the room form which the shrieks are coming. Once inside, Batman finds that it is all coming from a gramophone and just as he stop the record, he is attacked by an unknown assailant, who instantly runs away. Batman gives chase to the attacker, who is armed with a gun and is shooting backwards as he escapes, aiming at Batman. Dodging the bullets, Batman finally manages to corner the attacker in one of the mansion's hallways, but he is paralyzed when he realizes that the attacker is none other than Robin.

As Batman is being attacked by his partner, he is forced to step back until he falls in a dark room and a door is closed in front of him. Surrounded by absolute darkness, Batman lights a match and is able to see members of the Justice League and Batman's personal friends, gathered together around a macabre open coffin. When Batman gets closer, he realizes that the body inside the casket is his own. Soon, the members attending Batman's funeral start giving their own eulogies about the Dark Knight. Unfortunately, they all speak dreadful things, as Commissioner Gordon calls him a hypocrite and Superman resents him for stealing the glory on their past missions together. Finally, Batman realizes that everything is just a strange illusion, almost at the same time as Robin steps up and expresses his contempt for his late mentor and plans to reveal his secret identity to the world. At that moment, the light from the match fades out and the darkness returns. Lighting a second match, Batman realizes that everyone is gone and that it was in fact, all part of an illusion. However, he soon notices that the dark walls start closing in until they leave a very narrow space for Batman to move.

It is then that Batman's mind returns to reality and he realizes that he is locked in a special tube that makes him bounce up and down, with a monitor counting the number of times Batman has repeated the cycle. Besides Batman is an unconscious Robin, who is also locked in a similar tube, with the counter higher that Batman's. Finally, the mastermind behind it all reveals himself to the hero and Batman is shocked to see Dr. Tzin-Tzin on a large video screen, controlling every movement. Wanting to know how Tzin-Tzin managed to escape prison, Tzin-Tzin explains that it was easy for him to breach out and after he escaped, he tried to rejoin his old gang, but they scorned him after his defeat at the hands of Batman. Wanting revenge against the Dark Knight, Tzin-Tzin was promptly contacted by the League of Assassins, whose plans had been thwarted twice by Batman and they provided the money and equipment to create this elaborate death trap. Tzin-Tzin then proceeds to explain that the monitor counting Batman and Robin's movements on the tubes are actually triggers that would set explosions once the number reaches 100. Knowing that Robin's counter is far ahead than his own, Batman starts moving inside the tube in order to accelerate the counter so his tube would explode first. Tzin-Tzin tries to get Batman to plead for Robin's life, but Batman manages to get the counter to 100 before Robin is killed.

Tzin believes that he has succeeded, but Batman appears again and breaks Robin out of the deadly tube. Batman explains that he used his utility belt (which had earlier had its contents removed, presumably by Tzin-Tzin) to trigger the bomb and avoided being hurt by the explosion. Frustrated, but prepared for such eventuality, Tzin releases a dozen of highly trained killers to attack Batman. The Dark Knight uses his honed fighting skills to take down ten of his attackers, but the last couple of them manage to hold him, long enough for Tzin-Tzin to reach him and end his vendetta. Batman is unable to break free and his hour of doom seems to finally have arrived, when Robin appears out of nowhere and tackles Tzin-Tzin, giving Batman the chance to defeat the last two killers.

Finally, Batman and Robin take Tzin-Tzin out of the abandoned mansion and they take him towards the Batmobile waiting outside. However, as they reach their vehicle, the duo hear laughter coming from the house and when they turn around, they see Tzin-Tzin mocking them from one of the upper windows. They turn round and realize that Tzin-Tzin has escaped while they were distracted; and seconds after this realization, the abandoned house explodes and the whole place comes crumbling down in ashes and fire.

As dawn breaks, the Batmobile silently leaves the ghastly scenario and disappears in the first mists of dawn that cover Gotham City.

Story 2: In order to acquire the manuscript "Of Fighting Bulls and Men" for the Gotham Library, Barbara Gordon must travel to Madrid, Spain. There she is the guest of Don Alvarado, owner of the manuscript, who takes her to see it's subject: a bull fighter named El Grandos. However, El Grandos is upstaged during his bull fight by a young bull fighter named Paco. This causes some animosity and brings to light El Grandos' dwindling skill.

That night at Alvarado's ranch, Barbara is awoken by the arrival of a strange bullfighter hiding in the shadows. Following the figure as Batgirl, she soon finds that the bull El Diablo, favorite bull of El Grandos, has been killed. Finding that Granado's sacred sword was used as the murder weapon, Barbara begins to speculate who may have killed the bull.

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Detective_Comics_Vol_1_408)

Fan Art: Selfie by MaHenBu

Accompanying Podcast: ● Batgirl to Oracle - episode 14

[scringleydingleydoo]

FAVORITE AND LEAST FAVORITE VILLAGERS ACCORIDNG TO THE STRAWHAT PIRATES

Luffy!

Fav:

Gullivarrr, the reason is simple. Gullivarrr is a pirate.

"He's a pirate! That means he's the best one!"

Least Fav:

Luffys least favorite villager is Admiral because he reminds Luffy of Garp

"He acts like a marine! blegh!"

Zoro!

Fav:

Walt, simply because Walt likes swords and his hobby is working out.

"I wonder what his PR is..."

Least fav:

Colton. Because Colton reminds him of a certain cook

"Egotistical prick..."

Nami!

Fav:

Tangy! She loves how Tangy is tangerine themed and she thinks Tangy is adorable.

"I planted some tangerine trees next to her house, I won't make her pay cause I like her!"

(Namis second favorite is Redd because he reminds her of herself)

Least Fav:

Nami fucking despises Tom Nook. She screams at the screen every time he brings up her debt to him and curses him out everytime he raises it. (Zoro called her out for being a hypocrite about this once and had his debt raised by 400%.)

"Thieving bastard! Who does he think he is, this is MY money!"

Usopp!

Fav:

Knox is Usopps favorites! He likes how Knox is always wearing armor and thinks it's funny how he threatens to hit you with a shovel when you sneak up on him. He also relates to 'when filled with dread, just go to bed'.

"Guys obviously smart! Reminds me of when I fought off a thousand warriors with only my brain and a bedsheet!"

Least Fav:

Coco. She scares him.

"WHERE ARE HER EYES?!"

Sanji!

Fav:

He cant choose between Bettina and Merengue! He loves them both and how their houses are cooking/baking themed! Though he loves all the female villagers...

"Bettina-chan and Merengue-chan have the cutest houses! I bet their pastries are delicious~!"

Least Fav:

Walt. Reminds him of a certain swordsman.

"Muscle brained idiot!"

Chopper!

Fav:

It's between Merengue and Raddle! Merengue bakes sweets and Raddle is a doctor! He likes to match clothes with Raddle in doctors coats!

"Merengues food looks so good! And look! Raddles wearing a doctors mask! Do you think there's a epidemic?! OH NO-"

Least Fav:

Lucky.

Chopper was worried about Lucky at first, since the dogs always wrapped in bandages, then eventually he started getting annoyed that Lucky was always wrapped in bandages.

"He reminds me of Zoro! Always getting hurt! Hmph!" (No one has the heart to tell him that Lucky is actually a zombie.)

Robin!

Fav:

Murphy! She thinks he's so cute! She loves the fact that he's a teacher and his attitude and catchphrase reminds her of a certain giant! Her second favorite, came as a surprise to everyone, is Jay! He reminds Robin of her captain and her beloved cyborg.

"Murphy just gave me some books, I wish I could actually read them, and Jay has given me a fossil he found earlier, would you like to hear about it?"

Least Fav:

Redd. She hates how he makes fake historical artifacts and sells them.

"He has no respect for history. He's a heathen."

Franky!

Fav:

You would think it would be one of the robots huh? But i think he'd love Roswell! Because Roswell is a lot like him and Franky loves how the guy thinks! Frankys second fav is Molly because she reminds him of his beloved archeologist.

"OOOOW! Roswell knows how to party! And Molly is SUUUUPPPPPERRR cute!"

Least Fav:

Redd, just because Robin doesn't like him.

"Robins suuuupeer smart! And if this guy is disrespecting her passions he's a right bastard!"

Brook!

Fav:

K.K. SLIDER BABY! Eugene is a close second! These two should be obvious!

"Their melodies warm my heart! Ah. But I don't have a heart! YOHOHOHO!"

Least favs:

Coco and Lucky! Because they scare him!

"Ghost and monsters scare me!"

Jinbe!

Fav:

Diva! He loves how caring she is and how she can get along with everyone and be friends with everyone! He hopes for people and fishmen to be like her one day!

"She is very kind and I respect her tenacity to help people."

Least fav:

He doesn't have one!

"I think they are all okay creatures!"

Straw hats as animal crossing players🌼🌼🌼

Characters: Luffy, Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Chopper, Robin, Zoro

Tw: none it's fluffy

Notes: I couldn't do all of the straw hats now but I might later idk lol; this is proofread but there may still be mistakes🌱🌱🌱

🌼Luffy

Doesn't make any changes to his default island.

Gets fr devastated when town members leave while he hasn't played in a while.

Invites Usopp and chopper over whenever he plays because he doesn't like to play by himself.

When they do come over he's the type to make up new games to play, like makeshift hide and seek and tag( misses the tortimer vacation island feature,and going to the island to go on tours)(projecting😗).

In love with catching bugs ofc, runs around with either his net or his fishing hook in hand ( he always seems to have his fishing hook when he shakes trees and gets stung a lot, runs around with a swollen eye until chopper gives him medicine).

Loves that he can dive in the game.

Doesn't expand his house at all and keeps it at a single room but only because he forgot about Tom nook and the loan.

Didn't decorate much either until he saw Usopp's house and now he throws whatever cool thing he finds in the store in his place.

***🌼***

🌼Sanji

Has a very intricate island, terraformed a lot and looked up videos to make a fancy town with cafes and restaurants everywhere. Might've even tried to make a mini baratie. Was one of those people that spent most of the terraforming.

Only has female islanders in his town and loves to bring them food and drinks, he got rid of the guys in his island right away.

Thinks the able sisters are the cutest characters in the game but thinks Isabelle is adorable too.

Cares about the recipes more than the diys and gets disappointed when he gets a repeat recipe, hates when he gets a diy on the beach rather than a recipe too.

He has little gardens by his restaurant and one near his little seaside house(that's still a mini restaurant).

Loves to fish just so he can get new recipes to make out of them. So his encyclopedia is just about full in the fishing and diving department ( is sweet enough to donate the first catch so Robin can come over and view them in his museum.)

***🌼***

🌼Usopp

Just about all his furniture is crafted and customized and only uses pre made game furniture if his towns people gift them to him.

Loves crafting so much that he has little diy stations planted around his island,and ofc turned his living room into a workshop. He has one more room that has a small kitchen and his bed in it. Obviously opposite of Sanji, he cares about the diys more than the recipes( he gives Sanji the ones that he hasn't gotten yet).

He still has a few recipes though because he finds it neat to make himself a little breakfast before heading to his workshop.

Loves to catch bugs and donate them to his museum and thinks leaf is cool, actually commissions from him and puts the pieces in his house.

Takes the fishing tourneys really seriously and loves to challenge Luffy and chopper with them.

Takes a lot of pride in the catchphrases he gives his townspeople, and his nickname that everyone calls him is 'captain'.

Has the nicest town flag.

***🌼***

🌼Nami

This girl is on the GRIND, burying money trees, shaking trees, selling fish, diving, selling fossils, hitting rocks.

Is the type to see how much an exotic fish/ bug is worth before donating it to her museum.

Finds the outfits in animal crossing adorable but still won't buy something if it's too expensive ( hustles those Tailor tickets by never missing a visit from LaBelle like it's no one's business).

Doesn't expand her house much and keeps it pretty small because she hates getting janked by Tom nook and having that big ol loan over her head. So she keeps it cute and small and has orange trees planted everywhere around it.

Had a cherry island in the beginning but sold them all and took an orange tree( from Zoro's island) and planted her own orchard.

Bought the game for Nojiko too so they can play together.

***🌼***

🌼Chopper

Temporarily beefs with the Islanders that make don't give him medicine when he's been stung and is grateful to the one that does.

Likes that he can make medicine for his townsfolk when he finds them sick and always keeps some on him when he's playing with Luffy and Usopp ( Luffy loves to shake trees without a net in hand).

Changes his outfit everyday and dresses according to the weather, likes to dress his townspeople in outfits he finds cool too

He speaks to his townspeople a lot and likes to give them things he thinks go with their house.

His favorite characters are the nook twins, and Usopp and Luffy like to tease that they look like him.

Is the type that feels bad when he hasn't played in a while and his Islanders comment on it (especially when there's weeds everywhere).

His room is filled with things like comic books and robot figures but his living room looks like a little library and is really stylish.

Loves to get cotton candy on festival days.

***🌼***

🌼Robin

Has the nicest museum because she donates every new thing she finds.

Was disappointed when new horizons took away that one feature in the museum where they explain the exhibit a bit and give fun facts( I'm projecting but I think Robin would genuinely like that feature too).

Completed her fossil exhibit pretty quickly and now gives the assessed fossils to Nami so she can sell them.

Is very proud of her museum and always wants the crew to check it out when they come over, and they do every time.

Sits her character at the cafe to pretend to read, then reads next to her console ( Luffy and Usopp don't understand this is fun but won't say anything).

Likes to send the crew letters in the mail that are weird but sweet and always sends them things she thinks they'll like.

Has a few outfits she wears alot and the rest are the things Nami sent her.

Has flower gardens of specific colors around her island.

Thinks the weirdest gyroids are cute and keeps a few in her house to sing to her music.

***🌼***

🌼Zoro

Picked his townspeople simply by inviting whoever he saw first.

Has a really mitch-matched town because he always lets the characters move when they mention it rather than make them stay, but he somehow always knows everyone in his town name's.

His sense of direction is just as bad in the game as it is in real life. It's even worse because he, just like Luffy, didn't terraform his town at all so all the town's trees and houses are all over the place. Even the stores, because everytime he tried to go back to where he placed a store before he got lost and just put it somewhere else.

Because he can't ever find his way around, he'll start one task and jump to another one that fast. It doesn't help that there's always something to do in animal crossing. He'll be fishing, walking to sell them, gets lost and ends up running into a towns member that's asking to go to his house.

Had nothing in his house but a hammock and a table at first with the default walls, until Usopp sent him some furniture and livened up his little place a bit.

A/n: Please add to these if you have headcannons of your own, I might do a part two, thanks for reading!🌼🌱🌼

[earthtooz]

just a quick hawks idea that came to me <3 it's awkward lol but gn and pro-hero!reader

you might need to put your agency on lockdown.

admittedly, a hero agency going into lockdown was incredibly hypocritical, but when the threat was the number two hero himself, hawks, you can’t take any risks. everything must be secured so he cannot step even one foot into the premise or you’ll call emergency out of desperation and exasperation.

of course in the case of an actual lockdown, you would be expected to be there on the front lines which means you’d be the one responsible for being face-to-face with the problem. and if hawks flashed that charming smile at you or laughed that boyish laugh of his, you’d be surrendering. easy defeat.

but, the moment you’ve been dreading all day comes a little sooner than you expected, when three knocks on your door abruptly capture your attention and in comes one of your assistants. 

“ah, l/n? hawks is here and wants to see you,” she says, sounding a little overwhelmed. hawks can be intimidating when he doesn’t mean to be after all and well, you too were dreading meeting him for completely different meetings.

“don’t send him in,” you blurt, causing your assistant to widen her eyes in shock. you know she has the urge to ask why but quickly nods in affirmation before disappearing behind the office door once more. 

crisis averted. or so you thought as a sturdy, red feather begins dancing on your desk, one that you knew wasn’t there before.

it must’ve slipped in alongside your assistant and your heart drops at the realisation, especially when it becomes gesturing to your window; a signal you somehow recognise. 

“oh my goodness,” you mutter before turning around in your chair, coming face-to-face with the winged hero as he taps impatiently on your window, your chest already beginning to compress with the way your heart rate increased, and a thrill of exhilaration runs its course through your veins; two natural reactions that happen very commonly whenever you’re around hawks.

you hurriedly shut the curtains on his face, not having long to rejoice before his feather lifts up a portion of the blinds to reveal his unimpressed expression, coupled with an amused eyebrow raise and a dangerous smirk. hawks then gestures upwards with his pointer finger and you knew immediately that he meant to meet you on the rooftop of your agency; a place he likes to crash onto whenever he wants to. 

(you once asked him if he had better things to do than hangout on the top of your building and he replied that he’s there because he’s bored but you know otherwise. if there’s something about hawks it’s that he’s never free. his schedule was worse than yours and even then, yours was unmanageable. where he found a slot to loiter around your establishment, you don’t know. the bigger philosophical issue was why.)

you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to go but the rooftop and the wing that clung to your hero clothes was only emphasising the direness of your situation.

the moment you open the card-regulated door of your rooftop, hawks is already waiting for you, his face bursting into a dazzling smile as a glimmer appears in his eyes, ones that rivalled the sun. 

“there you are, sweetheart!” he greets, fluffing up his wings as the singular feather trailing beside you returns to its rightful owner. he takes generous steps towards you whilst you take smaller ones to meet him in the middle, your arms crossed over your chest in hopes of maintaining an apathetic front to deter him. 

it must not have been working because he does not look fazed. not one bit. 

“what are you doing here?” you grumble, subtly admiring the way his ruffled hair blows with the wind and how radiant he looks with the sun shining upon him. “don’t you have things to do that are more productive than bother me?”

“i am being productive; i’m chasing up on a deal that i made with you. maybe you need a little reminder to what it was?”

“please, don’t start-”

“-if i placed above you in the hero rankings this year, i would get to take you out on a date. remember anything along those lines, pretty?” 

you hide your face from him, using your hands to cover your eyes as you look away.

him, being the embodiment of your worst nightmares (daydreams), bends around so he would appear in your eyesight again and when you catch a glimpse of him, you just shut him out again using your hands. a deep chuckle spills from the winged hero at your childish insistence, genuinely entertained and infatuated by you.

“c’mon, stop ignoring me. i earned this date fair and square.”

“if i do not see, i do not perceive, please leave me alone.”

“oh c’mon number six, i’ve already placed reservations at a hot place i’ve been meaning to try together. won’t you be nice?”

removing your hands, you meet his gaze with a perplexed one of your own. “i’m serious, hawks, i have work to take care of. don’t you as well? we can’t just take breaks whenever.”

“and i’m serious about this date. so much so that i rostered more sidekicks on today than i normally do. everything is being taken care of so stop worrying, would i really be japan’s number two hero if i didn’t plan out every last detail?”

you huff, signalling his defeat. he was right. his surveillance abilities were off the charts. if anyone knew where danger was happening the second it occurred, it would be hawks. just- does he have to be so smug about it? it feels like he’s rubbing salt in the wound of your defeat yesterday at the hero rankings.

“fine,” you give in with an ungracious eye roll. “let’s go to this hot pot reservation of yours since you’re so insistent about how diligent you are.” 

“oh, do you find that attractive?”

“how about you take me out before i regret it?”

“as you wish!”

[grampstaxidermy87]

Behind locked doors

Requester: @badasseddy

Request: Hello there! I saw you taking requests and I neeeeeeed some more Sheriff Hassan in my life.can you write something with a fem!reader, when she's being harassed regularly (house broken into, stolen items and stuff, weird messages left) and nobody believes her. Hassan doesn't even know about this before overhearing the reader confront someone suspicious. So he tries to help the reader, maybe the sheriff spends a night at the reader's place to look out or something. It can be a little bit smutty, kinda angsty, and I would die to have Hassan in action, cathing the bad guy, saving the day.Thank you very much, I hope this gives you an idea.

An: Hello love sorry this took so long but thank you for the request! I agree there's not enough love for this hunk of a man! Hassan is legit my favorite character and I am in love with Rahul.Anyways I hope you enjoy darlin!

Warning:18+,slightSmut, swearing,stalking, break-ins, death, blood,stabbing.

It was funny really.

How the very second you show signs that your life isn’t perfect...that you’re different...everyone turns their backs on you. Just when you need them most, they look at you like you’re the devil coming to corrupt their ‘pure’ souls.

How fucking hypocritical.

Letting out an irritated sigh I tossed the broken lock into the metal can by my front gate, putting the lid back on I tugged my sweater closer when I felt another chill from the wind. The night was cold and windy as the island prepared for a small storm that would be passing by later tonight.

Normally I enjoyed a night of listening to the rain, sitting on my covered porch with a good book and coffee and just listen to it fall. It was soothing to me…but now I dreaded the thought of being alone at night for longer than a minute or two.

“Well, Howdy neighbor!” I jumped at the sudden intrusion to my thoughts, whipping around to see a dreadfully familiar face.

“G-Good evening, Wilbur.” I greeted back to the towering figure who leaned against the fence that separated us. Something I was grateful for.

Wilbur Murphy was my next-door neighbor, having moved into the old Mulberry’s house a month ago after they moved back to mainland to be closer to their daughter who just gave birth to their first grandchild.

I had been close to the elderly couple, being the last two houses on the street, so it saddened me to see them go. I had hoped to have the same neighborly relationship with the person who moved into their home, expecting them to be just as lovely as the Mulberry’s.

Instead what I got was a man who gave me the chills just by thinking about him, I knew it was wrong of me to start accusing the man of things without hard evidence.

But the signs all pointed to him! Ever since Wilbur moved in next door, I had received creepy letters phrased like a husband writing love notes to his wife, not to mention the few times I had even caught him snooping around my garbage when he thought I wasn’t home.

So when I began to see signs that someone was breaking into my home at night and messing with things why wouldn’t I assume it was him, but the worst part of it all was that no matter who I told everyone looked at me the same way.

Like I was crazy..

“That’s the fifth lock this week and it isn’t even Thursday! Those kids still messing with you?” The ‘friendly’ man inquired with a sickeningly sweet smile, and it took everything in me to hold down the bile that rose in my throat.

A small uncomfortable smile graced my lips as I forced out a laugh, "Ah Yea, you know those kids love their little pranks.” He grinned wider and nodded, "You know I could come keep you company tonight, make sure they don’t mess with you again tonight. It really isn’t good for a young woman like you to be all by herself in a big house like that.”

My stomach twisted at his offer, but before I even got the chance to turn him down, I heard the familiar click of my gate moving. “Evening Mr. Murphy. (Y/n).” Relief flooded my heart as I looked over to see the sheriff leaning against the old metal. His eyes were suspicious as they eyed the Creepy man but when they fell onto me, they turned soft and tender.

It was hard to ignore how much it affected me, leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling throughout my body and I knew there was probably a blush rising on my face.

There were only three people on the entire Island who knew of my crush on the island sheriff, My best friends Sarah and Erin…. And the sheriff's own son, Ali.

How the teen figured it out still puzzled me to this day, He had told me that he knew during one of our weekly piano sessions. The kid was smart, I’d give him that.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Wilbur asked with barely hidden spite in his voice, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Hassan saw right through it though, keeping a calm and easy facade but I could see the small quirk of amusement on the corner of his lip that drove me wild.

“Just doing my nightly rounds before the storm hits, Miss (L/n) here asked me earlier to help her prep.” He shot me a wink when he saw the confusion on my face, understanding donned on me and I quickly schooled my expression before Wilbur looked back at me.

“Oh, there’s no need to both such a busy man. Don’t worry about it sheriff, I can help (Y/n).” He just wouldn’t take the hint would he.

Hassan was unphazed however, shaking his head and waving the man off. “It's fine Mr. Murphy, she’s my last stop anyways. Plus, what kind of man would I be if I went back on my promises.”

Wilbur was getting frustrated, that much was certain as he realized Hassan would not be deterred no matter how hard he tried.

“I see...I suppose you’re right. Well, if you find yourself needing more capable assistance (Y/n),you know where to find me.” He spit giving Hassan a dirty look before turning and storming off back into his house.

It suddenly was easier to breath as I placed a hand on my chest, Looking over gratefully to my handsome hero I saw him closing the gate and walking over to my side.

“Is he always that...pleasant?” Hassan asked with a quirk of his split brow. Oh, how I’d love to kiss it...

“Sadly…that isn’t even the worst of it. Usually he’s much more persistent.” Concern filled those entrancing dark eyes of his as his brows furrowed together.

“I want an explanation. Now!” I looked down in shame at his scolding gaze.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself before telling him everything, the broken locks, the missing items, the notes…everything.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this (Y/n)?! (Y/n) the badge isn’t just for show, and even without it I am still your friend.” His expression was one of hurt, it was hard to look into his eyes...

“You should be able to tell me shit like this! Do you know how much I care about you?! I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened to you and I could have prevented it!” My eyes were wide when he finished, his breathing heavy as his worry crashed into my heart in waves. I hadn’t expected him to care so much..

“Hassan...” he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I’m sorry..It’s just..You were the first one to welcome Ali and me onto Crockett with open arms and not a hint of prejudice, (Y/n) you have been there for me through every bad day. Hell, you even protected my son against Beverly when she was being her usual racist ass self! Yea he told me all about that, which thank you...”

A heavy blush was visible on my face at his praise, I had told Ali not to tell his father because I didn’t want him to possibly get in a fight with the devilish woman and risk getting in trouble.

“P-Please don’t thank me, Ali is a sweet kid and didn’t deserve the shit she spewed out of that unholy mouth of hers.” I gulped looking anywhere but him so I didn’t have to risk becoming more of a flustered mess.

“What I’m getting at is that Ali loves you (Y/n)…and he’s not the only one.” The last part was spoken as a whisper. His deep voice going so soft that I had almost missed it.

Almost.

My heart was soaring, I was on cloud 9, The very man who has plagued my every thought since he moved onto this horrible island just admitted that he loved me.

Say something (Y/n)! Anything!

Floundering like a fish trying to come up with some totally intelligent way to voice my own feelings I watched as misunderstanding flooded those dark eyes of his.

“You don’t have to return my feelings, I’m sorry for just tossing this on you.” He began to rethink everything and close in on himself but right as he went to back away, I collected myself. Quicker than he could react I grabbed the collar of his Jean jacket and pulled him closer.

Crashing our lips together he wasted no time in sliding his arm around my waist and tangling a strong hand in my hair, his mustache tickled my nose from how hard we were pressed together. I could care less, I have waited for this moment for too long to let anything stand in my way now that I knew he felt the same.

We pulled away for air, the taller man leaning his forehead against mine as an awed expression covered his face, his eyes shut in pure bliss. “Better than I thought it would be...” I giggled softly at his mumbled words.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.” His eyes opened and a dopey grin pulled at his lips, "Looks like I have a lot of lost time to make up for then, Huh?” Matching his excitement, I gasped as he lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist while holding onto his shoulders.

Our laughter filled the air as he carried me inside…stuck in our own little world we missed the curtains ripping shut next door.

—————

Hassan winced as he shoulder-checked the doorway, but he didn’t dare to drop me as he kicked the door closed and set me down on the kitchen counter.

Standing between my legs he focused solely on my lips that were meshed against his as his hands squeezed my hips making me gasp into his mouth, with my lips parting it gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in to taste me.

"Fuck, you're intoxicating..." He groaned when he pulled away and moved down to my bare neck, kissing and nibling at my sensitive skin.

"H-Hassan, please...touch me..." His breath hitched in his throat at my whine, feeling his pants tighten as I begged for him to relieve the pressure twisting away in my gut.

"Don't worry baby, When I'm done with you, you're gonna be screaming my name." He said with that devilish smirk that drove me crazy. His hands sunk down to push my skirt up until it pooled on my hips.His mustache tickled as he kissed the tender flesh of my neck,all while I watched his every move with eager anticipation. A shiver rolled up my spine when the cold air hit my clothed privates. "Look at you, already so wet for me...shit baby..."

He pulled away slightly and licked his lips as he lightly grazed his thumb over the growing wet patch on my silk panties, "Don't tease!" I whimpered shifting on the counter in an attempt to press harder on his hand.

Amused by my pitiful effort he pulled his hand away,smirking when I whined at the loss of contact. “As much as I want to fuck you into the counter right now,let me make sure everything is safe first.” The look on my face was simply comical as he stepped away. “You’re a jerk!” I huffed feeling unsatisfied as I fixed my skirt and slipped off the counter.

His chuckle filled my ears as I pushed past him,only to gasp when a strong grasp caught my waist and pulled me into a warm body. His breath tickled my ear as he leaned into me,his hands gripping the meat of my hips to the point where I knew I’d have bruises by morning…good.

“You love it,besides I plan on making sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” A whimper built in my throat by the promise in his words,”But I have a piano lesson with-“ my voice quit on me when I felt his hot tongue on the shell of my ear,making my knees grow weak. Luckily his grip on my was the only thing keeping me stable.

“I think his father will understand,though that just means you’ll have to make it up to me..and I’ve already got plenty of ideas.” His husky tone vibrated in my mind,leaving me with nothing but the thought of him and what he was going to do to me.

“Hassan..” turning my face towards his I stared at his lips as he did the same to mine. Sharing our breath..I didn’t know who made the first move but I was thankful as we hungrily devoured each other,he turned my body and hugged me close as his hands knotted in my hair.

I pulled away enough to kiss along his jaw as I fought with the buttons of his work shirt,”Hah..baby you’re so fucking-“ a sudden thump from the second floor caused us to both freeze.

His grip tightened as he stared at the ceiling,whispering lowly to me when he noticed my hands shaking. “I’m guessing you don’t have a cat?” He clenched his jaw when he saw me shake my head out of the corner of his eye.

“Grab a knife and hide,wait for me to come get you.” Before I could argue he pulled away and began making his way to the hall that led to my stairway.

Reluctant to leave him alone I pulled a knife from the block on the counter and quickly followed him.

He sighed when he saw me,shaking his head he knew it was a long shot to get me to stay behind. “Stay behind me and don’t leave my sight.” He whispered and I nodded in understanding.

He took my hand and kept me close as he quietly trekked up the steep staircase,when we made it to the second floor I tensed when I saw that at the end of the hall the window had been opened and the picture frame on the wall next to it had fallen to the floor.

“Stay here,they might still be in the house.” I nodded and held the knife in both hands in front of me as I watched him slowly approach the window,stopping only to grab an empty vase from a drawer.

He glanced through the window to check for any signs of possible intruders before he turned towards me to say something…only for a loud thump to stop him. His head snapped to the door next to him that I knew led to my guest room, he glanced at me for a second to motion for me to be quiet as he shifted the vase in his grasp before slowly grasping and turning the handle.

I inched closer as he pushed the door open, looking around the dark room before letting out a sigh,”Nothi-“ I screamed when a blur tackled him to the ground,The vase shattered beside his head from the sheer force of his fall.

“Hassan!” I screamed when I realized he had been knocked out before looking towards his attacker with fear.

I should have known…

“Hello neighbor.” Wilbur Murphy leered at me with a terrifying grin.

“This whole time..it was you..” He chuckled darkly,finding the tremble in my voice adorable. He easily lifted himself off of Hassan before slowly approaching me.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t realized sooner darling,all those gifts and love notes. But it’s alright,I’m just glad I don’t have to sneak around and hide my love for you anymore!” Tears filled my eyes as I began backing away,holding the knife higher with trembling hands.

“S-Stay away from me!” His smile fell a bit,”Now darling I know you’re scared,But think of it this way:I know everything about you. You’re deepest darkest secrets all the way to the most intimate parts of you,I know you better than you know yourself!” He laughed holding his arms out as if expecting me to run into them.

I’d rather die.

“You’re a monster…you made me think I was going crazy…everyone thought I was crazy..” he had the audacity to not even look ashamed,in fact he looked proud of himself.

“Amazing isn’t it,all I had to do was flash a smile at those whores and they were ready to believe whatever I told them.” He hummed dropping his hands and giving me a once-over as he grew closer.

“You always were different,never one to fall for my flirty quips and smiles..it’s what attracted me first.That..Independence that I wanted to ruin..to make you reliant on me and only me was my biggest wish.” I froze when I felt the edge of the steps on my heel,I was trapped.

And he knew it.

“Don’t fight me (Y/n)…come with me and I will worship you,as you deserve.” He stopped once the tip of the knife pressed against his chest,not pressing hard enough to slice the skin but enough to show he wasn’t afraid of it.

I flinched when his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear,”I’ll kill him if you say no.” It made me sick to my stomach,how he could say such a horrible thing with that charming smile.

“I won’t let you hurt him.” His smile turn to a stoic expression,his eyes showing just how deadly he was.

“You don’t have a cho-“ motion behind him caught my attention,tossing the knife behind me I quickly threw myself at the wall and out of the way.

Wilbur yelled out in shock as a strong force body slammed him from behind,causing him to fall face first down the steps.

“Hassan!” I yelled grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him back before he could fall to,we both tumbled back just as Wilbur reached the bottom with a loud thud.

“Shit…Are you okay?” He shifted onto his side to look me over for any signs of injury.

Shaking my head I let out a haggard breath,”No…All this time and he was right next door..” he frowned and sat up,carefully lifting me into his arms and hugging me close. “It’s over..He can’t hurt you now.” Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his neck,He comfortingly rubbed my back,cooing loving words into my ear as he looked down the staircase.

Wilbur Murphy laid unmoving at the bottom,his limbs twisted in disgusting ways a the kitchen knife was buried deep in his back.

Hassan would make sure no one ever hurt the ones he loved ever again.

[lantern-lost]

As he watched the stranger adjust the body, a wave of absurd dread washed over him. This wasn't the sort of thing normal people did, was it? Anyone else would have a stronger reaction. Shouldn't he be trying to do something about this? Something more than just standing there, gauntless, holding onto a the coffee of a bloody-handed stranger.

Adair shifted his hands and drummed his nails on the paper cup, offering a noncommital hum. He tried to focus on its warmth, trying to ground himself. He really should've been leaving. What sort of person carries a person in a tarp without bothering to hide it? Someone dangerous, obviously- not that he can blame him for that. He'd be a hypocrite if he did.

No. Something worse. Someone indescreet. A little part of him wondered how this reflected on him. If he was caught up as an accomplice, he'd never hear the end of it-

His thoughts stopped, as the other seemed to stare off into the street. For a moment he startled, thinking he had seen someone and forgetting he had started a conversation altogether. No. Nobody there. Nobody. He cleared his throat. "I'll, ah... have to try it. At some point. If I find it."

He watched the dry blood come off on the hankerchief, frowned to himself. Maybe he should offer advice on how to get the stains out. He could clearly use them, now that he looked him over again. Wearing a white shirt was the first mistake; one he had learned earlier on. When he finally handed the coffee over, it was like finally letting go of a particularly sickly-smelling lead weight.

Then he had to go and speak again. He blinked. The earnestness caught him off guard, somehow. "It's... it's no trouble. Really." His gaze kept trying to return to the tarp, now with any suggestion of a human body obscured. Instead, he kept it fixed roughly between the stranger's temple, and reached out his hand for a vague, uncomfortable handshake.

"... Domnhull." Immediately, he regretted giving his name. No, it was- it was fine. The handshake was over. He could step back. He could get out of this mess. "Sorry to cut this short, but I also have errands to run. Good night." Beneath his breath, he muttered a short prayer to the only things he really could. Please. Please don't keep him here. Any fate but uncomfortable small talk with another murderer.

continued from x with @lantern-lost

"All-night shops are a marvel, aren't they?" he set about tucking the body back under a fold in the tarp. It was lost on him how he could go about his business like this and not have anyone care. He chalked it up to the American city. They couldn't possibly-- hopefully-- all be like this, right?

"I got it from... It was a couple blocks down and next to the petrol station," he looks off in the direction, perplexed, "Now that you mention it, I don't really remember it... but the coffee is wonderful. I recommend it."

He stood up and pulled a cloth from his suit jacket to wipe his hands, though dried stains remained. He also took the moment of having free hands to remove his jacket and throw it over his shoulder. He seemed rather lithe to be hauling a body.

"Thank you," he said with a soft smile and took back his coffee, "A stranger's kindness is rare nowadays. I very much appreciate it."

He offered his hand.

"Renfield. And you are?"

[blzzrdstryr]

Generous offering

Yandere!Zhongli x gn!Fatui Harbinger!reader

Wordcount:1843

CW:Yandere themes

There are several simple things one should know before dealing with the archons - be respectful and polite, speak only when you’re allowed to and most importantly - never forget that archons aren’t humans.

The first two rules are instinctive - it’s natural for humans to simper and bow before the forces far greater than them, while the latter is not; on the contrary it’s counterintuitive and unexpected. People tend to project, tend to humanize - they see kindness when there’s none and make a huge mistake of assuming that archons see things the way they see it.

Tsaritsa, for example, lacks humanity, despite holding the title of Goddess of Love. The love that she holds for you is different from love mothers and fathers give to their children, or love that young sweethearts share at night, it’s cold and impersonal and undeniably cruel.

Tsaritsa says that she loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, yet she lashes out a harsh and gruelling punishments at every perceived failure and rules her land with an iron fist, one would think that the cryo archon is a liar and a hypocrite, who uses pretty, flowery words to hide the atrocities she commits, but this perspective is flawed. Tsaritsa loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, she’s just not human enough to properly express this.

That’s why it’s a bit jarring to see the ancient lord of these lands in his mortal form - he lacks the same otherworldly terror and grandiose that every of Tsaritsa’s move and word carry, yet he also possesses the air of wisdom and elegance so refined that rare person can reach it. It’s easy to assume that he’s human.

Rex Lapis, or “Zhongli” as he calls himself now invites you to the Liuli pavillion the second day after your arrival, for tea and local cuisine as he says, and who are you to decline a God?

Liuli staff hurries and dashes around, preparing their best room for you - Fatui are known for their seemingly endless finances, no wonder they’re in haste. “Please make yourself comfortable, dear guests”, the waiter curtsies and leads you to the dining room, which happens to be richly furnished and decorated with high-quality darkwood furniture and the hand painted wall panels further accentuating the luxury of the restaurant.

One of these panels illustrate different scenes from the Liyuen mythos - a battle of mighty and wise adepti against the horde of demons, Rex Lapis aiding his people in building the Harbour and the most spectacular one - a majestic dark brown dragon with golden fur and feathers descending to the devoted worshippers, who in turn present him with their offerings and gratitude.

He orders tea and meals for both of you, as you start to converse about the plan that he is determined to bring into life - the so-called test of Liyue, and the guarantee of you obtaining his gnosis.

“And what about your colleague?”, he sips a bit of his tea, intense amber eyes piercing right through you. He looks both human and non-human in this moment, both undeniably mortal softness and frailty seen in his figure and the barely concealed divinity, the sense of awe slowly seeping into air mixing in one person.

“And what about him? Tsaritsa and you have negotiated everything beforehand, I will make sure that he plays his part properly”, he hums at your answer, lowering his gaze deep in thought. You start on your own tea.

Ah, Childe, if only he knew why exactly he’s here - a distraction and a scapegoat. You even feel bad for him - it’s truly unfair to be lied to by your own Goddess. However, it’s also not a big surprise - Childe is the loudest out of all Harbingers in all senses. Infamous for his skills and battle obsession, his name is enough to have people both shivering in fear and cursing him.

“What do you think of your archon? Was serving her of any use to you?”Rex Lapis unexpectedly asks.

You lean back in your seat, thinking what to say.

“Tsaritsa is a gentle soul, she declared war only to protect us, her subjects and I am ready to aid her in whatever undertaking she starts”.

“Will you continue to serve Tsaritsa, if her action might put you in danger, make you suffer and bring unnecessary grief?”, he leans closer to you, his human features distorting enough to reveal the ancient dragon sleeping inside. His eyes shine a cold golden glow and accurate fingernails morph into sharp, dark claws.

“Yes”, you breathe out, mesmerized and terrified by the sudden change: “Her love knows no bounds, yet she always puts the needs of the nation before anyone else. If my suffering can help Snezhnaya, then I will accept it with open arms”, he moves back at your answer, all draconic traces gone in an instance, upper corner of his lips subtly rising - whatever you said must’ve pleased him immensely.

The conversation flows back into the territory of plans to be realized, yet the cold sensation of dread still clings to you, your gut feeling yelling at you to get up and run. You remain seated to the end of your meeting, politely conversing with the God that terrifies you.

***

Days slowly grow into weeks and Childe acts just as you have expected - the Eleventh Harbinger might be smart, yet even he wouldn’t be able to see what two of you are scheming. Still, you request Ekaterine, a spy you planted in Northland bank, to keep you updated on the Tartaglia’s actions - extra caution never hurts.

You continue to meet up with geo archon, as you two discuss your next actions. Tartaglia has started cooperating with that blonde foreigner Signora has warned you about, and while this union doesn’t pose any threat to your plans, it’s always good to have a plan B, just in case something happens.

Sometimes your conversation develops into a more unexpected direction, as you find the archaic lord more chatty and tending to ramble, than any of Liyuen historians would dare to picture him as. One on such occasion he talks with you about dragons - benevolent deities who protect and bless their people in an exchange of generous offerings.

His eyes devour you, as he retells you ancient folktales and you suppress your discomfort, preferring to attribute his honestly unnerving behaviour down to his lack of humanity - he was never human in the first place.

That’s why you also prohibit yourself from viewing him as anything but God - Rex Lapis in his “Zhongli” persona is genuinely attractive, he’s well-mannered and obviously handsome and far more knowledgeable than any mortal should be. If you didn’t know of his true nature you would have fallen for him by now - it’s hard not to.

Life, how strange that wouldn’t sound, goes as usual - you get Ekaterine’s report on what Childe’s up to and if it’s something unexpected you book a Liuli pavilion room and send an invitation to the funeral parlour consultant. You only need to wait until Childe gets desperate enough and decides to use the sigils of permission to unleash the well-awaited chaos.

This routine however is soon broken by the appearance of familiar ashy-white hair in the distance. She doesn’t wear her signature mask or dress, nor are there agents at both of her sides, yet you can still clearly recognize her. Signora leaves the Wangsheng building in haste, cape with the hood concealing most of her face and figure, except the long locks of hair, peeking from inside.

What is she doing here?

You thought that Tsaritsa sent two of her servants - Tartaglia and you, him to “test” Liyue, you to oversee the former’s actions and obtain gnosis, there’s no need to send her too.

Your mind races, as you search for a logical explanation of Signora’s presence as your memory supplies the piece of first conversation you had with “Zhongli” - could it be that Tsaritsa also sent you to play a role you have no idea of?

Cryo archon is a goddess of love and her love is cruel and unforgiving, she has sacrificed countless chess pieces before, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she did that again - you are nothing but a pawn after all, one of the tools she uses to exact her will and force her vision, all of the Harbingers are.

You want to believe that you can accept and resign to whatever hardship and fate your Goddess might subject you to. You can’t.

***

Adepti and Qixing converse at the pier of the seaport, as you hurry to the Northland Bank, a slight smile playing on your lips - Childe has finally done it - he summoned an ancient god to lure out Rex Lapis, ultimately proving that Liyue can stand without him.

There are sounds of heated argument heard when you open the building’s door and then you see it - Signora and Tartaglia exchanging barely concealed insults and “Zhongli” standing nearby.

“[Harbinger]? What are you doing here?”, the ginger shifts his gaze onto you, a rare emotion of hurt and disbelief flickering in his dead fish eyes. “Of course, Tsaritsa sent you too”, he smiles, angry and disappointed. “Seems that whole world wants to make a bad guy out of me”, he stomps out of the room, leaving you with Signora and “Zhongli”

“[Harbinger]”

“Signora'', you acknowledge each other, after she trails exiting Childe with her eyes.

“I am here to take the gnosis of Rex Lapis”, she says and you nod, accepting that your Goddess lied to you too: “Tsaritsa also asked me to give you this letter”, she extends her arm, a thick envelope with the familiar seal catching your attention.

With the trembling hands you snatch it out of her hold and almost rip the envelope - for what reason did Tsaritsa send you here?

She writes that you need to stay in Liyue for an undetermined period of time to upkeep “the agreement” made between her and Rex Lapis. You read her message silently, yet when your eyes trace over these words, the sensation of “ “Zhongli’s” eyes on you becomes ten times sharper and stifling. You don’t know what to do.

The other Harbinger leaves too, taking the gnosis with her, as “Zhongli” takes a couple of steps to you, touching your shoulder in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “[First]”, he starts, tone sympathetic and soothing. You don’t fall for it.

“You had your hand in it, didn't you?”, you hiss and accuse, throwing an angry glance at him, momentarily forgetting about the first two rules of dealing with archons.

He smiles, revealing two sharp fangs, his surprisingly scaly hands snaking around yours. “Yes”, Rex Lapis admits, and looks nothing like gentle and knowledgeable “Zhongli”. How could you forget? Archons aren’t humans, humanity is just a fancy dress they don to toy with mortals. He is the dragon, not the benevolent deity that is painted on the wall panels of Liuli pavillion, but a greedy and ancient creature, hungry for gifts and gratitude.

You are his generous offering.

[witch-hazels-musings]

Contrary to popular belief, Diluc isn't rude.

What is it with others assuming that his reserved nature means he hates people? He prides himself in being assertive and to the point. Whether others enjoy small talk and idle chatter, that's none of his business, but it doesn't mean he's obligated to agree.

Which brings him to the current day, also known as his birthday.

It had been years since he had properly celebrated, let alone enjoyed it. No need to elaborate, it was common knowledge why. Still, it didn't stop his staff and the people he regularly passed by from reminding him.

He would thank them and go his way, the repeated process quickly growing tiresome as he walked towards the headquarters of the Knights of Favonius. It wasn't by choice that he was there, some audacious boy had been stealing his grapes for weeks and that simply wasn't a matter he could leave for anyone else to sort. His prized grapes, used as mere snacks? Preposterous.

He recognized a few faces in the halls, each greeting him gleefully. He was certain his displeasure was seen on his face, they were no longer his comrades in arms and he made a point of reinforcing it when Varka was still under the illusion that he would return.

He dreaded the upcoming conversation with Jean. He had nothing against the woman, he even respected her diligence (when it wasn't excessive), but they were far too similar in their inability to drop down their guards for their exchanges to be anything but awkward.

And, as expected, it was.

But at least, she gave her word that the culprit, as well as anyone assigned to patrol near the Dawn Winery, would be properly reprimanded. He couldn't ask for such patrols to simply not happen, and so he left.

There was a ruckus near the library, another sign of how disorganized the place was. It grew louder as he passed, as if-

The door was thrown open, followed by a group of...lively folks exiting the room. Amber was dragging a reluctant Klee away, which was common to see when the little girl found herself in trouble. He would have paid them no further attention had he not noticed Hazel('s beautiful hair).

"I trust you'll return them in time, Cutie?"

'Cutie'...?

Just how familiar were the two of them?

"Of course, Lisa. I'll take good care of them."

The librarian chuckled, as she often would for no reason.

"Good. Oh, Diluc? What brings you here?"

Great.

"Personal affairs, already sorted."

It was at that precise moment that Hazel chose to smile and put the overly bright chandeliers to shame.

"Hello, sir. Happy birthday."

Damn it all, he couldn't brush her off.

"Thank you, Hazel. Are you on shift?"

"Yes, in twenty minutes. I was just on my way to the tavern."

He nodded,

"Shall we, then?"

She turned, likely to part ways with Lisa, but the woman wasn't there anymore. When had she left? No matter.

Outside the headquarters, they were met with none other than Kaeya. Joy.

"Ah, the man of the day. My best wishes, Master Diluc."

Diluc cleared his throat.

"I'm sure they're genuine."

Sometimes, he wished Kaeya would erase the date from his mind to spare him from thinking for a second that this supposed care was real. Then again, it would be hypocritical of Diluc to pretend it was by coincidence alone that he was never at the tavern on November 30th, but he would take being a hypocrite over admitting that he too was incapable of forgetting.

He turned to extend a hand towards Hazel, who he knew to be carrying heavy books in her bag. He had offered to hold them, but she refused. The least he could do was prevent what could be a painful fall. Seemingly understanding his intention, she took his hand. He prayed it wasn't visible how much such a simple contact affected him. Especially in front of Kaeya. The latter laughed as he climbed the stairs.

"Have a good day."

Were he not busy looking down at the steps to make sure Hazel wouldn't trip, Diluc would walk faster.

She was fidgeting. Not literally, but there was something in her behavior that wasn't like the Hazel he knew. Granted, they didn't know each other that well yet, but Diluc was good at memorizing cues.

It seemed to grow worse the closer they were to the tavern, which led him to think that whatever she was hiding, it was related to him. Following that train of thought and knowing which day it was...there was a surprise waiting for him.

Charles knew he wasn't fond of them, as did his staff, so his birthdays were typically spent like any other day of the year. That could only mean that if he was right, Hazel was the one who came up with the idea.

It was even more obvious when he saw how empty the entrance to the tavern was. At that hour, there would be at least one table occupied by Wagner and his assistant taking their afternoon break.

Diluc mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of shouting.

Three...two...one...

He opened the door.

"Surprise!"

Other than Charles and the tavern staff, Adelinde, Elzer, Venti and even the Traveler and Paimon were present (the latter was salivating over the feast occupying two tables).

Even though he knew what awaited him, the gesture still took him aback.

"What is this?"

Paimon giggled,

"It's your birthday party, silly!"

Venti smiled proudly, though something told Diluc he didn't do most of the work.

"Pretty neat, huh? It was Hazel's idea."

Having his hypothesis confirmed did nothing to alleviate the swarm in his stomach.

"Is that so?"

Her expression was sheepish, and so very adorable.

"I...yes. I hope you like it, sir."

He smiled,

"I do. Thank you."

It had been a long time since Diluc felt deserving of such a gift, but the way Hazel gazed into his eyes was too good at convincing him otherwise. Even if his image of himself plummeted tomorrow, he wouldn't forget that day.

To get this today is such a gift!!! Thank you so much for this ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽

You take so much of your time to send me something incredible and I love how the story grows more and more -- don't burn yourself out okay, I am so appreciative of you kind human, please drink water ♥️

[archived-kin]

late with lucifer

note from kin: i just realised that the title sounds like a talk show ffs

anyway get ready to get SAPPY (and also get ready for a low-key out of character lucifer)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn! reader, lucifer, satan, beelzebub, belphie

pairing(s): lucifer/reader

warning(s): brief existential dread right at the end but i think it’s relatively light

genre: fluff all the way (with maybe a teensy bit of angst???? i accidentally got kinda deep towards the end)

Deciding to commit yourself to a bona fide workaholic music nerd who would sooner chop his own hand off than skip a single working day for potentially the rest of eternity has been... a choice and a half, to say the least. Yes, he’s a sweetheart most of the time, and you love him more than possibly any being in the known universe (though jury’s still out on cats and the dragon you met a couple of months ago who brings you giant mouthfuls of leaves every weekend), but you’d be lying if he didn’t have qualities that make you want to drop kick some sense into him sometimes. And one of those qualities happens to be his absolute refusal to just take a damn break.

“Just one more hour,” He keeps telling you whenever you ask him if he’s finally finished with his mountain load of paperwork. “One more hour, and then we can spend some time together.”

It has been five hours since Lucifer went to his study to ‘get a bit of work done’. Five hours of attempting to finish the mountain of books Satan has recommended you in the corner of the library, probably irritating the poor guy to no end with your constant restless shifting. You're surprised that he hasn’t up and left to go read in his room in peace - then again, it’d be hypocritical of him to tell you off for moving about. You’d think a bookworm like him would be so absorbed by his beloved books that he wouldn’t be able to move at all, but he fidgets about so much when he’s reading that you’re surprised he hasn’t somehow worn a hole through his favourite armchair yet. At any rate, you’re pretty sure you can see him getting ready to flip himself upside down for the seventh time this evening in the corner of your eye.

You try once again to focus on the lucrative business deal happening in Chapter 52 for the fourth time in the last ten minutes, but your brain just doesn’t seem to be listening to you right now; no matter how hard you try to register what’s going on, the words just don’t want to be processed. Finally, checking the clock on the wall for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, you decide that you might as well go bother your busy bee upstairs. It’s been at least a fortnight since you’ve been able to spend a full evening or night with him, and, if you’re honest, it’s beginning to get a little on your nerves.

Satan barely looks up from his book as you hop to your feet and begin making your way out, though he does lift a hand to wave a brief goodbye. Contrary to your prediction, he has not flipped himself upside down, but is now sitting the wrong way around on his armchair instead, facing the seat’s back, with his book carefully balanced on its head. Unconventional, but you’ll give him credit for the creativity.

The House of Lamentation is oddly quiet for a Friday night, but you’d guess that’s because Asmo and Mammon, the two loudest members of the house, have taken it upon themselves to celebrate the arrival of the weekend by going out for the night and probably blowing their savings in the process. Well, Asmo will be blowing his savings - Mammon will most likely find a way to put his spendings on one of his other brother’s tabs, or worse, yours. Then again, you don’t buy things often, so you suppose you can spare a bit of cash. (Knowing Mammon, though, he’ll probably buy enough to put you in debt for the rest of your life.)

On your way through the corridor, you’re struck by a sudden idea. Lucifer’s been shut in his study ever since he got home from the R.A.D., which means he most likely won't have eaten anything. At any rate, you know for a fact he wasn’t there for dinner with everyone else, which means you now have a much better excuse for going to see him other than just wanting to. Lucifer may be a stubborn demon, but he's never been able to resist a mug of tea and some biscuits on long nights when it's you offering them.

Beel is rustling about in the snack cupboard when you slip into the kitchen - no surprises there, but it is a little odd that he’s going for the lighter foods rather than something more filling. You'd comment on why he's down here so late into the night - he should really be in bed - but then again, it's Beel. He'd listen to his stomach over his brain any day of the week.

“Oh, hey,” He greets as he retreats from the cupboard with an armful of what look like several cookie boxes stacked on top of each other. “Did you get hungry as well?”

You shake your head and pull two mugs out of the crockery cabinet. “Nope. Just thought I’d bring Lucifer some tea and biscuits, you know?”

“He’s been in his office for ages,” Beel agrees with an earnest nod. He glances down at the heap of cookies in his arms, then pauses. “Ah… here.”

You look up as you fill the kettle with water to see him holding one of the boxes in his arms out to you.  “...what’s this for?”

“There aren’t any biscuits left in the cupboard,” He says by way of explanation, shaking the box he’s offering to indicate that you should take it. “So you can have these.”

“Aw, you don’t have to do that, Beel!” You gently push the box back towards him and give his arm a fond pat. “I’ll just bring him something else. Go ahead and eat the cookies, okay?”

On any other occasion, Beel would most likely have accepted your offer without hesitation (the day that Beel rejects food will probably never come, but you have a sneaking suspicion that a black hole would rip this reality apart if it does), but it must have been a really good day for him in terms of being fed, because he actually continues to try to give you the box. You’re tempted to coo at the big softie’s uncharacteristic generosity, but you’re not particularly sure how that would go over with him. If being in a relationship with Mr Pridey McPrideface upstairs has taught you anything, it’s that you can never take a reaction for granted.

“No, you have it,” Beel insists, shifting so that he doesn’t drop the rest of his biscuits and stubbornly attempting to shove the box into your hands. “I’ve got plenty right here.”

Your surprise must show on your face, because a moment later he smiles a little sheepishly and adds, “I promise I’m not sick or anything. I’ve still got lots right here. One box won’t make that much of a difference.”

You think it over for a moment as the kettle begins to bubble aggressively behind you. You’re a staunch believer in the fact that one should never deprive Beel of his food, partially because he’s an absolute sweetheart who deserves the food he eats, and partially because something bad could and probably would happen if said food is taken from him. Then again, you’re not taking the food from him, strictly speaking - he’s the one offering it to you. That exempts you, right? At the very least, you have a counter-argument if Belphie tries to persecute you for taking his beloved twin brother’s biscuits. (He probably wouldn’t - the kid adores you - but it’s good to be prepared for possible trials.)

“Ah, fine...” You eventually relent and allow Beel to press the box into your hands. Your compliance is well worth it - the beam on his face and the little pat he gives the box in your hands in satisfaction could probably cure multiple strains of cancer. “You’re the sweetest, you know that?”

He flushes slightly. “I-it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” You tell him firmly over your shoulder, beginning to busy yourself with the teabags and sugar as the kettle hisses to a halt. “Personally, I think I’m going to remember it for the rest of my life.”

You smile to yourself as Beel laughs a little bashfully behind you. “Thanks…”

“No problem, bub,” You reply, pausing in your work to turn around and shoot him a wink. “Hey, chuck me a spoon, would you?”

He nods and does just that - literally. He throws the spoon across the kitchen with such precision that it lands perfectly in your outstretched hand.

You thank him and begin to pour the hot water into Lucifer’s mug. He says that he likes his tea as is, without any bells or whistles or fancy additions, but you’ve been doing this thing for long enough that you know that he actually prefers his tea with a teaspoon of honey and just a splash of lemon. He just refuses to actually say it out loud.

(To be honest, you’re not sure why he does that - does he think tea with honey and lemon is a wimpy drink or something just because you told him it’s often drunk as a remedy for a sore throat in the human world? Knowing the way his mind works, it’s probably something along those lines, but still, it’s a weird conclusion to make.)

You finish preparing Lucifer’s tea quickly - you’ve done this so many times that the movements have become second nature to you at this point - and start making your own. The drinks are finished a minute or so later, and with that you begin setting up your little snack tray.

After a moment’s debate, you decide that today is worth going the extra mile, and start to carefully arrange the biscuits on a pretty plate.  It’s a bit of a hassle to get them into the right formation, but it’ll be well worth it once you get them to their intended receiver - Lucifer always gets the fondest little smile on his face when you bring him his biscuits in patterns, and that man doesn’t smile nearly enough for your taste. Personally, you’d quite like it if he smiled like that all the time, but then again, their rarity is what makes them so precious to you.

Ah - you’re starting to get sappy again. That’s a surefire sign that you haven’t spent enough time with your beloved demon lately. Well, it’s a good thing you’re going to see him now, isn’t it?

The door to Lucifer’s study is still as tightly shut as it was five hours ago when you approach it, but you doubt he’s actually locked it. He’s stopped doing that ever since your visits while he works became a regular thing - he hasn’t said it out loud yet, but you know that it’s his way of showing you that you’re always welcome to come in.

Unlocked as it is, though, you can’t exactly turn the doorknob to let yourself in. You’re a human of many talents, but being able to balance a heavy tray in one hand is not one of them. Lucifer’s tea wouldn’t make into his study - it’d just end up all over the floor.

“Lucifer!” You call softly through the door, mindful that he might be having another one of his work-induced headaches, “I’ve brought you some tea! Open up!”

For a while, the only reply is silence. You know there shouldn’t be any reason for him to be, but you can’t help but worry briefly if Lucifer’s somehow angry at you. Then again, Lucifer’s always liked to play the fashionably late card against you - whether to tease you or to disguise something, you’ll never know.

It turns out that your little worry was unfounded - a few moments later, the door swings open to reveal your favourite demon in all his exhausted-looking glory. Lucifer, who looks like the physical manifestation of work burnout, offers you a tired smile, and stands back to let you enter.

(Here’s a little secret - Lucifer would never tell you this, but he’d perked up like a kid when candy is offered the moment he heard your voice. Still, gotta put up the cool front, right? Even if that means waiting restlessly right next to the door for a minute so that you don’t think he’s over-eager…)

“Thank you.” He murmurs as you bring the tray over to his desk and set it down on one of the few patches of wood that aren’t covered by papers.

You dramatically pretend to swipe sweat from your forehead as if you’ve just finished a ten-mile run and shoot a smile up at him. “All in a day’s work, love.”

He smiles softly and leans in to gently press a kiss to the crown of your head. His pale cheeks have darkened slightly - Lucifer’s always been a softie when it comes to the host of sappy nicknames you’ve given him. One gentle ‘sweetheart’ and he’s melting like an ice cube on a hot day. It’s the sort of thing that people like Mammon and Levi would probably call gross or something, but you honestly couldn’t really care less about that. It’s not harming anyone else and it makes both of you happy, so why shouldn’t you give your lover as many endearing pet names as you can come up with?

“What even is all this?” You ask, peering at the papers scattered across the desk as Lucifer moves over to have a look at the plate of biscuits. You look up just in time to spot the way his eyes light up slightly when he sees the flower you've arranged them into.

“This and that,” He replies vaguely, hovering a single gloved hand uncertainly over the plate, as if trying to decide which biscuit he can take without spoiling the pattern.

“That’s hardly an answer at all,” You complain, plucking three broken quills from among the documents and waving them at him. “Why do you keep using these? A pen would be way more efficient.”

“Official documents should be written in the traditional way,” Lucifer tells you. He takes his time chewing the biscuit he’s finally chosen before continuing. “And Diavolo prefers quill and ink calligraphy to look at.”

“Honestly…” You round the edge of the desk and reach up to brush some powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to do absolutely everything according to him.”

Lucifer blinks down at you, lips parting slightly in half awe and half surprise as you smile at him. “Ah…”

His smile widens slightly, and he gazes at you with so much fondness in his eyes that you almost feel a little weak at the knees at the very sight. Lucifer really is a dangerous demon - in more ways than one.

“Well, c-come on, then,” You prompt him abruptly, not wanting him to realise how much his gaze has affected you, because you just know it’s going to give him an ego boost. He pauses in surprise as you start tugging him over to the big armchair beside the fire - the one that the both of you can fit snugly into together. “Let’s have a drink together.”

“I still have papers to fill out—” He attempts to say, but cuts himself off as you shake your head and stubbornly attempt to push him down into the seat. It doesn’t work - Lucifer’s much stronger than you, after all - but he does at least seem to appreciate the effort.

“You’re taking a break whether you like it or not,” You insist, starting to smack lightly at his arms in an bid to get him to listen to you. “Papers can wait. I’m more important.”

That does get a little chuckle out of him, and he finally relents, sitting down with a subtle sigh. “That goes without saying.”

You laugh, suddenly a little more hot around the collar than you’d have liked. “You said it!”

Pausing to retrieve the tray with the tea and biscuits and set it on the table beside the armchair, you quickly join Lucifer in front of the fire, snuggling in at his side and letting out a blissful sigh as you feel him start to draw circles on your arm with his fingers. It’s a sort of habit that he’s developed over the last few months - you’re not sure if he even realises that he’s doing it.

The two of you stay like that in comfortable silence for several minutes. Lucifer’s tense shoulders relax more and more with each passing moment, and soon enough, he’s sprawled out against you, pressing his cheek lovingly into the crown of your head. 

It’s only at moments like this that you get to see this softer version of him, so you always cherish it when it happens. Lucifer may be a slightly passive-aggressive panther who could kill most beings with a swipe of his hand if he sees fit, but, every now and then, he’s a sleepy panther who’ll roll over and let you scratch behind his ears.

Conversation is usually sparse at times like this - the two of you are content enough in each other’s presence that you don’t really need to make small talk. Today, however, Lucifer seems to have something he wants to vent about.

“Belphie has been missing a lot of his homework again lately,” He murmurs. You make a noise of affirmation to indicate that you’re listening, staring at the mugs of tea sitting on the table and pondering whether the two of you will actually manage to part for long enough to drink them.

“Is it anything important?” You ask after a moment, playing absent-mindedly with his left hand. He doesn’t make any move to stop you as you mess about with his slender fingers, so you assume that he doesn’t mind.

“Mostly essays,” He replies, shifting slightly and letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s never liked writing them, but he hasn’t had so many missing before.”

You make a thoughtful sound. Now that you think about it, wasn’t Belphie confiding in you about this the other day?

“It’s just hard to sit down and concentrate sometimes, especially when I’m always so tired,” You remember him saying resignedly over hot chocolate and marshmallows. “It’s not like I don’t want to turn all my homework in on time. Sometimes I just can’t.”

“Well, you shouldn’t force yourself to do them, either,” You’d replied, giving his shoulders a sympathetic pat. “Needs over school of course. If you need to sleep more, then sleep more - if you feel like you can’t write the essay, then don’t write the essay. I’ll talk to Lucifer if he gets mad at you.”

He’d given you a grateful smile then, and turned back to his hot chocolate with a marginally brighter look on his face.

“Belphie’s been having a lot of nightmares lately, so he isn’t getting as much sleep,” You say slowly. “I told him to go ahead and take as many naps as he has to. His needs are more important than schoolwork, after all.”

Lucifer takes a long while to answer, but you don’t mind. It’s only fairly recently that he’s really come to terms with the idea that he doesn’t need to be so hard on his brothers - that it’s okay to put their comfort before whatever image of respectability he’s trying to keep up for Diavolo. The change has been somewhat jarring, according to Satan, but it’s not an unwelcome one, and you’ll gladly take responsibility for it with your constant reminders and careful explanations that Lucifer’s younger brothers have their own problems that he needs to give more leeway for.

“...did he come to talk to you about this?” He asks finally.

“Yeah.” You can’t see his face, but you can practically hear the frown beginning to pinch at his brows. “I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but he does want to make you proud. He’s never wanted to disappoint you.”

He takes a deep breath and releases it with a low hum. “...Belphie has never disappointed me.”

“Seems that he doesn’t realise that sometimes, though,” You sigh, tracing the seams of his glove with your index finger. “He’s a good kid, really.”

Lucifer doesn’t give a verbal reply, but he does hum again. You shift slightly and turn to look up at him; he looks back at you with sleepy, half-lidded crimson eyes. “Take it easy on him, okay?”

He gazes at you in contemplative silence for a long while, blinking slowly like an affectionate cat. Finally, he nods, and you beam proudly, dipping your head to rest on his chest, carefully positioning yourself so that his buttons don’t dig into your cheek.

“I’ll speak to his teachers,” He says quietly. “We should be able to arrange something.”

You smile against the fabric of his waistcoat, taking his hand in yours and giving it a squeeze. “That’s progress. I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t respond, but you know full well that he loves it when you say that to him. He didn’t in the early days of your relationship, mostly because he’d thought you were patronising him, but now that the two of you are so much more familiar with each other, he’s learnt to recognise that you don’t mince words; you say what you mean, and you mean what you say. Which is exactly why, as the Avatar of Pride, he absolutely loves it when you tell him that you’re proud of him.

Lucifer himself is deep in thought. Struck by a sudden warmth spreading through him, quite independent of the crackling fire before him, he wraps his arms around you, resting his cheek against your head. It’s at moments like these, when you’re so close to him, that he realises just how fragile humans like you are.

It terrifies him sometimes, knowing that the unforgiving march of time means that you cannot be with him forever. One day you will leave, and you will grow old and fade away without him, because, no matter how much he wishes otherwise, you belong to a different realm. You are not a demon, and he is not a human; your worlds can collide briefly, for a single, beautiful moment, but then they will continue to move in their own orbit - and perhaps they will never meet again.

Some would say that, for this reason, he never should have fallen in love in the first place. Relationships like yours have always had a sort of taboo, even in the Devildom, because all beings are not created equal; humans have such short, meaningless lifespans compared to demons and angels, such little power, always depending on leaders and faith in a deity that they cannot prove the existence of. That is what demons tend to think of humanity, and until he’d met you, Lucifer had felt similarly.

But your life has been anything but meaningless, and the power you hold over him and his brothers is far stronger than any amount of potent magic that any being holds. The seven lords of the Devildom would lay waste to all three realms should anything happen to you. 

Lucifer had never thought that he had the ability to love so deeply and so purely, but then again, he’d also never thought that a human like you could exist. It seems that he’s been wrong about a lot of things, and he can only pray that he will be wrong in his prediction of how this will end.

But you’re with him now, curled up against him with a content smile on your face. For now, you’re here, and while you are, Lucifer doesn’t want to waste time on worries.

Your story is yet to reach its ending, and if Lucifer knows anything, it’s that he will stay by your side until then. As long as your worlds are still connected, he will continue to love you, and he will love you long after your worlds separate again.

He’s sure of it.