#can I not find it because I forgot the tag or did the author take it down???

[atetheship]

I have checked the isolated batfamily, cryptid batfamily, dark batfamily, codependency, dark Bruce Wayne tags and cannot find the fic I want to reread.

The summary was an excerpt from the fic that went kind of like this if I'm remembering right: And if you ever pull your weapons on my children again you're going to wish I didn't have a no kill rule.

It was a Bruce and the boy robins fic where they are at the watchtower and freaking people out because they are known to only care about each other so they don't mix with the other heroes. The boys were just all over each other and Hal (I think) aggressively told them to stop because brothers don't do that. Especially going after Dick which made his brothers bring out their weapons threateningly. And so the jl brought out their weapons and pointed at them back.

I think it was also written in Clark's POV. And it was all platonic.

If anyone knows the name please tell me!

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟑]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.6k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, character death and graphic descriptions of death, mentions of vomit

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. this one is... a lot. take heed of the warnings/let me know if there's something i forgot to tag! i might've missed some errors because it's late so i will fix in the morning, otherwise please enjoy! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢

When the meadows grow full and lush, Kinich awaits your reappearance.

The winter had been long—with his crops iced over, he’d had to rely on hunting to survive. His mother’s absence had taken a heavy toll on his family (though he uses the word loosely), and his father somehow finds more time to drink his life away. Now the sole homemaker, Kinich finds himself as his father’s newfound punching bag as well.

He discovers that he has a talent for patching wounds and bruises.

Some days, the man awakens in the dead of night, freshly sober—Kinich can hear him crying his mother’s name in the dark. He doesn’t know whether to take that as regret, or simply loneliness.

They don’t talk. They never really did, but the silence grows quickly, curling and weaving and winding like vines through the house, until Kinich can feel it wrapping his throat shut. Days and weeks go by without him talking to anyone at all.

Still, he moves on.

The ice finally melts, and he welcomes the sight of animals returning from hibernation, despite how they nip at his garden. New life sprouts from the ground, and it’s only a matter of time before you appear in the forest again as well.

This time, you’re touting a burlap bag of Quenepa Berries, and you offer him one as he approaches.

“They’re sweeter at this time of year,” you comment, before popping one of the fruits into your mouth. He accepts and does the same—this batch is fattened and sweet, he thinks as the juice dribbles down his chin. You must have an eye for a good harvest.

“You came back,” is all he replies, as a greeting.

An incredulous expression crosses your face, almost judgmental—you hold the bag of berries away from him as teasing punishment. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He reaches over you, quick as a fox, catching one of the fruits in his fingers. 

“Don’t know.”

There’s no way to tell you about his mother’s disappearance, at least not one that he’s confident about. After all, he feels there’s no logic in informing you anyway—there’s no solution that you could potentially offer, and it’s not as though it affects you. But it’s the thought of that, and the lasting image of her footsteps, that had instilled this fear within him.

The fear that you would never return.

But you’re here, he soothes himself, another berry in your outstretched palm. He takes it, just as your voice rings out again.

“So, do your parents not like girls?”

The skin of the fruit catches in his throat at your question, and he lets out a series of wet coughs—you pat his back, eyes wide with concern. It takes a few moments for him to return to his senses.

“What are you talking about?” he splutters, uncharacteristically flustered.

You don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in picking through your bag—you prefer the lightest blue berries, the ones that are still slightly unripe. Perhaps you enjoy the tartness they offer.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “It just seems like you don’t want your parents to see me.”

And there’s no easy way to explain his situation, so he doesn’t. Instead, he hums, watching the birds soar by overhead. His heart vaguely tugs with jealousy at the sight of them.

“It’s not that. My parents just…don’t like people hanging around our house. That’s why we moved out of the village.”

Not a total lie, he reasons—the financial issues were the root cause, but his father had also grown tired of neighbors attempting to intervene in his parents’ endless disputes. It had given him hope, for a time, that someone might be able to remedy the situation. 

But that hope was quickly snuffed out.

“Makes sense,” you say, tracing shapes in the dirt with your foot. You draw a heart, a smiley face, and then something that looks like a defective Yumkasaurus. “Your dad is the mean one, right?”

You’re still not quite educated on social faux-pas at your age, and Kinich almost chokes again.

“What?”

Something rustles in the bushes nearby—an animal scared away by the sudden loudness of his voice.

“He always used to yell at me when I’d come around to leave you things,” you explain, overwhelmingly casual. “Smelled like that stuff that us kids aren’t allowed to go near in the market.”

Kinich vaguely remembers hearing his parents argue about something like that, but all the fighting tends to blur together after a time. He’s not sure how to reply to that, or what you might think if he did.

So he doesn’t.

He asks you about your winter instead, a topic change that you welcome eagerly. You tell him about the village, the white-topped roofs and the way the Yumkasauri would redden and sneeze, whelps hiding in their mother’s wings. You tell him about how you tried ice skating on the frozen river, recounting how many times you fell flat on your face. The thought makes him smile faintly.

He’s almost surprised by how enthusiastic you are about it—you’d told him before about your parents’ death in the cold season. He wonders how you seem to move past it all.

You turn your attention back to him, curious. “What about you? What happened during your winter?”

There’s a lot he could say, but none of it feels right, every word sticking to his tongue, stubborn. 

“The winter felt really long,” he finally says, mostly to himself, chewing thoughtfully.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. “It did. But it’s not so bad, I think.”

He hums. “Really?”

You shrug. “Spring always comes again anyway.”

/

On Kinich’s seventh birthday, you knock at his door in the evening.

The November air is crisp, but not yet chilling. After all, the nation of Pyro tends to run warm until the very depths of winter. It’s for that reason that the fireplace still lies darkened and empty, and that the kitchen window is still open a crack.

The sound shocks him at first—it’s been a long time since anyone has visited at all, so much so that the dull thump is unfamiliar. Wilder animals tend to come out when the sun sets, so he tries to finish up his farming and hunting beforehand—at this time, he’s usually preparing some sort of meal for the next day.

He glances at the source of the noise, then at his father, slumped over the kitchen table, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. The man will likely be asleep until the early morning anyway.

So Kinich pads to the door, pulling it open just a crack, and it’s your eye that peers back at him, curious.

Another inch, and then the rest of you is revealed to him—you’re holding a neatly wrapped box in your hands, an innocent smile spread across your lips.

His first words come out in a hiss.

“What are you doing here?”

He thinks he’s been quite clear about your need to return to the village by this time, for many reasons. It’s growing dark, a time where animals and humans alike grow more dangerous, and his father tends to be home. The man has a talent of putting Kinich in the worst moods, and he’d rather not spread that to you.

“It’s your birthday,” you greet, as an explanation, shrugging like it’s all so obvious. Kinich tilts his head.

“So?”

“So, we’re celebrating! I spent the whole day baking this cake with Chief Wayna’s help.”

Kinich steps outside, quietly letting the door shut behind him. The sunset sky is burning away at this time, pinks and reds fading into black and blue. The stars will be out soon. 

“It’s nighttime,” he says, crossing his arms.

You nod vigorously, undeterred. “Yup! All so you can see the candles better. It looks so much cooler when it’s dark.”

It’s a ridiculous statement to someone like him, and Kinich is once again reminded how different the two of you are. His sense of logic doesn’t seem to align with your enduring enthusiasm. Still, he likes the fire that you have about you, and has no interest in snuffing it out, so he merely sighs and leads you away from the front door.

Once you’re a bit away, the house still in view, he looks to you again.

“So, what is it about candles?”

Without a reply, you turn away from him, fiddling with various things—he hears a match being lit, sees the faint light reflect from behind you—and then you’re facing him again, proudly holding out the cake.

There’s seven brightly colored candles sticking out from the top. The candlelight illuminates your face with a soft glow, a cheeky smile spreading across your lips.

“It looks good, right?”

Kinich peers down at the treat—it does look good, with the expensive kind of frosting that he used to look at longingly in the market. He hasn’t had something this sweet, this luxurious, in a long time, or maybe ever. When he glances back up, you’re staring up at him expectantly—he shrinks back from the pressure.

“What is it?” he asks, feeling self-conscious. You point to the candles.

“You have to blow it out.”

Vaguely, he thinks back on when he used to live in the village. He’s seen people hold birthday parties before (though he can’t say he’d ever been invited), but he’s not sure he’s heard of this tradition. Birthday celebrations weren’t something his family could ever afford anyway, or maybe they just didn’t care to.

Kinich realizes he doesn’t even know when his parents’ birthdays are.

But you’re still watching him, so he pushes that thought aside. Instead, he leans over and gently blows out the candles in three small puffs of breath.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” You cheer, tilting the cake toward him. “I hope you made a wish!”

You’d forgotten to mention that before he blew out the candles, he thinks to himself, but he’s in no position to argue with your good will anyway. So he nods, silently making a wish after the fact.

“Alright, the best part is eating it,” you whisper conspiratorially, like you’re sharing a life-shattering secret. “And Elder Leik says it’s bad to have sugar before bed, but I think it’s okay just this once—”

“Kinich!”

That voice—

His heart freezes in his chest. Your face morphs in confusion, and then he’s grasping at your arm and yanking, hiding you behind him—you’re not much smaller than him, though, so it’s a futile effort. At the force, the cake slips out of your grip, smashing uselessly into the grass.

Kinich has half a mind to apologize, but he can’t—instead, he holds you tighter.

“Kinich?” A hoarse voice echoes in the dark. “Where the hell are you?” 

“I’m here. I was just taking a walk,” he replies. His voice shakes at the edges of each syllable—he hopes his father doesn’t notice. 

Something crunches in the distance; it’s the sound of grass underfoot. His father is coming this way, Kinich realizes in a panic. He glances back to your fearful eyes, clutching at the back of his thin t-shirt, and his chest burns with the desire to protect.

It’s too dim to see the man until he’s a few feet in front of you—he’s dressed in a tattered shirt and loose pants, feet dragging through the grass. His eyes narrow when he gets close enough, brows knitting together.

His gaze zeroes in on you, venomous. “It’s you again.”

The collar of Kinich’s shirt grows taut against his throat as you pull against him, afraid. He squeezes at your arm once, a comfort.

“You damn orphans, got nothing better to do? Just fucking around on my property, I should throw you off this goddamn cliff! Not like you got anyone to miss you.”

Kinich grits his teeth. “Leave her alone.”

His father laughs, a grating sound like nails on a chalkboard, then belches. The smell of cheap alcohol filters through the air, even from a distance.

“Go do something useful then. Too many useless people in this world, ha! Just like your damn mother.”

The mention makes the blood ice over in Kinich’s veins, a sharp frost crawling up his spine. Your grip loosens just a hair, likely in confusion, but the detail barely reaches his mind.

“You know where she is?”

The image of his mother’s footsteps in the newly fallen snow had never left his mind—he sees it in his nightmares, trapped and crawling in an endless frozen landscape, alone. He thinks of her when he farms, when he weaves, when he’s forced to eat another Grainfruit.

He thinks of her always, maybe, in the back of his mind.

And his father does too, maybe, based on the way his whole body seems to tighten with anger at the question. He doesn’t reply, at least not verbally.

You watch, horrified. Even as his father’s eyes glow with rage, even as he drunkenly hobbles toward you both, hands outstretched.

(Kinich blankly notes that they form the shape of his own neck.)

The man isn’t too coordinated, especially with the alcohol coursing through his veins—he stumbles a few times on the way, the grass seeming to curl around his ankles, slowing him down. Perhaps it’s the land’s way of protecting him, Kinich thinks. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you behind him. “Come on!”

Kinich runs, wind whipping at his face, the way he always does when his father gets this way. He takes you through the backyard, toward the forest, where his father might lose sight of you both and give up the chase. He knows the paths there and knows them well—the shadows of the trees will protect you both.

But the man is picking up speed behind you, roaring about what he’ll do once he catches you.

“Kinich,” you wheeze. You’d already been semi-exhausted by your trek here, and certainly not expecting a sprint like this.

“I know,” he pants back. “Just a little more.”

You’re trying your hardest, he knows.

But he’s faster than you, and you stumble, lagging behind.

“Kinich!”

His father lunges, fingers barely grasping at the leg of your pants. A shriek erupts from your throat as you tumble to the ground in a twisted pile, and Kinich cries out with you, just as the cliff seems to rumble beneath his feet. 

It happens in slow motion. 

Kinich’s father meets his son’s gaze, enraged, then afraid. Terrified, just as he feels his legs dangle over the edge of the cliff, just as the weight of your smaller body pushes his torso over. Shocked, just as the rest of you starts to come down with him. 

Your screams echo off the darkened mountain. 

Kinich weighs his options—it doesn’t take long—and then leaps forward. His chest smacks painfully into the dirt, but he manages to grab your wrist just as you slip down the cliff.

“Kinich!” 

His father is screaming his name, and so are you, pleading, begging for his help. And you’re still in his grasp, but you’re slipping, and his father is reaching for him, and if he could just grab him with his other hand, he could maybe pull you both up, but—

Kinich’s gaze meets your tear-filled eyes.

So he grits his teeth, clawing at the dirt, and with his other hand, he grabs—

You.

He doesn’t have time to catch his father’s expression—he doesn’t think he’d want to see it anyway—before he’s hauling you up, yanking you into his arms until you’re both collapsing into the grass. The crown of your skull clashes with his chin harshly.

His father is still bellowing curses, not that you seem to hear it over the sound of your screams and cries. But Kinich hears it, somehow, floating above the chaos and agony in your voice.

“It’s your fucking fault! This is all your fault!”

His eyes flutter shut as the voice fades away, and then grows silent.

It’s too quiet.

Even the crickets seem to censor themselves, hiding from the entire ordeal. Kinich releases his hold on you, rolling onto his stomach, then onto his knees. The grass seems to waver under his stare, rippling and oscillating until it feels like the entire world is quivering beneath him.

He barely registers that you’re struggling to pull yourself upright behind him.

You turn away from Kinich’s hunched form to vomit in the grass, overwhelmed by it all. A corpse lies at the foot of the cliff now, one that could’ve just as easily been you. One that might have actually been your fault. The thought makes you vomit again. 

After a few more dry heaves, Kinich’s hand rubs at your back, the other gently easing your hair away from your mouth. You look over your shoulder at him, eyes filled with tears and nose dripping with snot. 

“Kinich,” you sob, trying to catch your breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was too slow, and he—he fell. I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I know he wasn’t—I don’t—but that was your—your father—”

He takes you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him—really look at him. His expression seems the same as always, but you know the difference. You note the quivering at the edge of his lips, the light sheen at the corners of his eyes. It disappears as quickly as you notice it, flattening under a disposition of stone.

“I weighed the value between you,” he says, gaze meeting your glassy stare. Your heart flutters. “And I chose you.”

And for a bit, you pretend that you can’t hear the thick lump in his throat, or the way his nose scrunches to keep the tears from slipping. Instead, you take his hand, struggling to your feet.

Kinich gives you a once-over—your pant leg is tattered now, a long strip of fabric ripped from the bottom. A flash of crimson peeks from under the remaining cloth.

Thin lines of blood bloom over the joint there, slowly running down the length of your leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he rasps, assessing the extent of your wound. It’s not deep—a skinned knee at most, which he’s grateful for. He’s treated much worse on his own body.

There’s so much to do, he thinks, pushing through the foggy haze permeating his mind. He has to retrieve his father’s body. He has to treat your wound. With his father gone, he needs to make a plan for his own survival.

It’s not as if his father ever really helped out anyway, but the thought of being truly, totally alone is harrowing. It takes another minute for him to remember that you’re still standing at his side.

“Go back to the house,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “Wait for me in the kitchen—”

“No!” You blurt, looking surprised despite yourself. Kinich jolts, meeting your eyes. “You’re going to get his body, right?”

After a moment of hesitation, he nods solemnly.

Kinich has looked down these cliffs many times; he knows the sheer height of them. There’s absolutely no chance that his father’s body is in any sort of good shape at the bottom. The thought makes bile rise in his throat.

You swallow. “So let’s go.”

The fear is reflected in the way your hands shake, but your shoulders straighten and you reach for him, slotting your fingers together. It’s the most bravery that you can manage, at least right now. Kinich accepts it gratefully.

Making your way down the cliff is treacherous with the little light you have. You don’t speak, barely even breathe. The stars lay watchful above, winking and illuminating your way. 

Even with your hand in his, Kinich glances back occasionally, ensuring you’re still with him—you always are, still sniffling and scrubbing at your eyes. 

It’s hard for you, and it’s obvious; he has to catch you several times when your foot slips off the stone, but you’re still with him. You’re still with him, he thinks. Kinich repeats it to himself a few times, letting it anchor him as he struggles down the rocks.

His father’s body is stiff by the time you reach it.

You’re too afraid to look at first, meekly standing behind him. It takes a few minutes before you work up the courage to peek over his shoulder, one hand over your mouth. Kinich isn’t sure whether to pray, or cry, or leave it all behind—for a few minutes, he doesn’t do anything at all.

The body is mangled, as he’d expected. You don’t dare to look at it again; you pace about the area, trying to keep your wits about you. 

Everything about it is too familiar. He sees himself in the corpse, the blond hair fanned around the head like a halo, the golden eyes forever stuck in a faraway stare. The grappling hook that he always kept on his person.

His father. A half of him. His flesh and blood.

And he’d let him go.

Kinich feels for his own heartbeat over his shirt, fisting at the cloth there.

You are still alive, it whispers.

So he calls your name, soft. You peek at him through the darkness.

“We have to bring it back,” he murmurs.

And you, despite it all, despite the terror that licks hot up your neck, simply nod.

“Okay.”

As the two of you drag the corpse back toward the house, fingertips sticky with blood that freezes in the passing wind, Kinich realizes it—

This is the coldest November he’s ever experienced.

[hello-xiao]

cold mornings ᯓ 🌫️

featuring.. aventurine. veritas ratio. caelus. dan heng (il).

cold mornings with your favorite characters.

part one.

tags/warnings!! not proof read! pure fluff. established relationship (aventurine, dr. ratio, dan heng (il)). post-penacony (aventurine). you can imagine whether dr. ratio leans up or down on his part. spoilers for character story (dr.ratio). dr. ratio and reader lives in a house together. fwb (not.. those types of benefits) (caelus). post-xianzhou luofu (dan heng il). dan heng hates hates the thought of being "one" with dan feng. gender neutral reader.

authors note!! hiiiii, this was a work in early may which i never actually did hehe.. if you couldn't already tell, english is not my first language so forgive me if it looks messy/unintelligible because most definitely i forgot words and i couldn't even search them up because i didn't know how to explain them..

rating: thirteen ++

Aventurine ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Aventurine laid on the bed, his arm slung around your waist as he breathed in your scent. It was a quiet, cold morning, the shuffling of the bed sheets, the soft sound emitting from the humidifier and soft breathing being the only noises heard throughout the room.

The soft smell of hydrangea and citrus filled the room as Aventurine let out a small groan, he blinked open his eyes, letting out a yawn as he looked down at you, your head resting on his chest, he couldn't help but smile and mess with your hair.

He couldn't help but notice the room was a tad bit chilly, "Oh? Are you cold, Pilea?" "Oh, pray tell, how could you tell?"

He chuckled as he cuddled into you. "Now now, come, I'll warm you up." You couldn't help but smile as you held him close to you, letting a soft sigh leave your lips. You ran a hand through his hair. "Aven.." You could tell he was close to falling asleep. It had been a long month for him, he had just returned from Penacony. He didn't seem to want to talk about anything that happened, and you were just glad he was back in your arms.

Your hand rested on his head, gently running your hand through his hair as you rested your cheek atop his head, his head resting on your chest. "Sleep well, Aven.."

Veritas Ratio ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

You awoke in bed, all alone. Which was the usual in your shared home. After all, Veritas often awoke early, often leaving you alone in bed whilst he was in another room, either reading or researching.

You got out of the bed, grabbing the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around you as your feet met with the cold ground. You moved around before opening the door to his studies and taking a peek inside.

"Veri?" You smiled as you walked inside, finding him buried in his work. Papers worth of years of research surrounding him as his gaze moved to look at you. "Morning, dearest." He greeted you, before his attention moved back to his papers.

He pushed the chair back a little, giving you access to sit on his lap and rest your head on his chest. You noticed his glum expression, you were unsure if he wanted to talk about it. "Veri? Is something.. Wrong?" A silence filled the gap, he let out a grim sigh before a small self-depricating laugh followed.

He simply smiled at you - something rarely seen on the man's expression, yet here it was. He leaned to bury his face into the crook of your neck. "Everything.. Is fine." With pursed lips, you bregudingly accepted that answer, knowing full well he wouldn't say any more than that. But as your eyes made way to his research, you saw it. "--test-firing of the anti-planetary weapon was a success."

Yes.. Perhaps it was better not to push him to answer.

Caelus ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

It was an early morning on the express. You sat on the lush red couch as you watched the conductor sweep the floors. It wasn't shocking that it was practically freezing on the express. Your hands were wrapped around a mug filled with hot tea, blowing on your drink just lightly as you took small sips, careful not to burn your tongue.

You looked over at the door as Caelus comes out, he stretched his arms, you could only chuckle, feeling a bit bad for him as he had just returned from his adventure in the Xianzhou. From what you could tell, from the rambling of March 7th.. You were lucky to not have joined them.

You watched as he sat down next to you, sighing as he rested his head on your shoulder. "Tired?" He only nodded, wrapping his arms around you.

"Want a drink?" You wanted to laugh, he truly was no different than a raccoon, not to say it was bad. It was adorable. "No." His answer was short but quick.

You allowed him to rest his head on your shoulder as you placed the cup down onto the table. This was nice. Mornings like these.. Were always ones you look forward to.

Dan Heng (IL) ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Dan Heng looked at the data bank, looking at what needed more editing and which didn't. He was lost in thought when he continued working, his eyes flicking back and forth to multiple different datas.

When he suddenly thought back to the events prior of returning to the express after their adventure in the Xianzhou. How much he was reminded of him. Dan Feng might be Dan Heng. But Dan Heng will never be him. But, in the same time.. Nothing could ever be his, could it? For Dan Feng haunted him, and probably, always will.

He wasn't fully paying attention to his surroundings when he let out a surprised noise at the sudden tug on his tail.

He turned around, only to find you, your arms wrapped around his tail. "Did I scare you?" You chuckled as he let out a sigh of relief. "[Name].. No. Just surprised." He smiled a bit.

"It's quite cold.. Aren't you usually in bed at this hour?" It was true, whether you choose to sleep-in or too cold to leave the comforts of your bed.

"Yeahhhhhh, but.." You rested your cheek on his tail, your fingers gliding across his scales as red hued his cheeks, a chill running up his spine at the sensation. "I decided to get up a bit earlier.." You smiled. "To see.. You."

Dan Heng looked away, his cheeks hueing red as he covered his face, clearing his throat as he glanced back at you. "I.. See."

You got up and stretched your arms. "It's so cold.." Dan Heng nodded his head, agreeing with you as he paid attention towards the data bank. "You don't mind me using your tail to help heat me up, right?" You grinned, hugging his tail, it was a comfortable pillow.

"No.. Feel free to use my tail as you please.."

And.. Just in this moment, Dan Heng couldn't help but smile. Nothing in the world belongs to him, for it belonged to Dan Feng. But you? In this moment.. Your love was his. Not Dan Feng's. But Dan Heng's.

[i-hate-peas]

The Old Guard Fic Recs

So I've been a long time lurker within the fandom without ever getting particularly involved, but I wanted to show some appreciation for some of the super talented people who go here, because I have read a lot of incredible TOG fic.

Most (probably all) of these authors have loads of other amazing fics, but I've tried to just chose one from each, to keep the list a vaguely reasonable length. Although then I cheated and did some honourable mentions.

** just a note to say I started this list year (s) ago and forgot about it until literally today when I saw fic recs going round. Any of these fics I haven’t put a description for it’s because I didn’t do it at the time, and if I go back to reread them all this would never be posted, not through any lack of affection or enjoyment **

If any writers want tagging/ untagging etc please let me know! (i knew/ could find some blogs more easily than others lol)

Within Canon

Old Olives by aeli_kindara

Garden of Gethsemane mention = instant tears

Death in Her Hands by superblackmarket

Nile's growing relationship with Joe and Nicky. All of their fics are so beautifully written, but I especially love Nile's relationship with the boys and her facing her own immortality.

Honourable mention: Station to Station

Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (@hauntedfalcon)

Andy! Nile!

Ouroboros by CypressSunn (@cypresssunns)

Set after the film, literally just read it.

compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R

A pair of early days Joe Nicky fics that reminds me of 'my wife is a bitch and i love her so much'

let's give them something to talk about by lacecat

When The Cherries White With Blossoms, Be Ready & Be Brave by chapstickaddict

Unearthed by merle_p

I think this is one of the most kudosed fics in the AO3 tag, but it deserves the hype!

Kidnapping for Dummies by Amiril

Similar to above, already very popular, but great and very funny!

The Last Man on Earth by Survivah (@optimismology)

I will admit I don't normally go for Booker/Nile, but this fic sold it to me. Looking at them and their developing relationship as the newer immortals.

Canon Divergent

Retrograde by Pinkninja

I mean this fic is the Big Bitch of the fandom for me, if you haven't already read this, where have you been? But also if you haven't already read this I am so jealous, read it and take your time with it and bawl your eyes out over it and appreciate the joy of reading it for the first time. The level of detail and planning in this fic is indescribable. It follows Nicky trapped in a Time Travellers Wife style life where he jumps back and forth throughout his own timeline, whilst Joe lives his life in chronological order. Exquisitely written.

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16 (@gallifreyburning, @takiki16)

Another absolute Titan of the genre. I know you’ve already been recommended this 500 times, what more can I say.

though I'm dying to (fall in love with you) by yusufsmoon (@babygirlyusuf)

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls (@kaydeefalls)

Andy, not Quỳnh, trapped under the sea. I love all their fics.

AUs

Makes Me Want You More by Sixthlight (@sixth-light)

Perhaps not the typical favourite choice from Sixthlight, one of my absolute favourite TOG authors, but one that is funny and lovely and sweet that I keep coming back to. Shorter than many of theirs but perfectly formed.

pumpkin gnocci verse (series) by Liadan14 (@bewires)

I mean it's got estranged family, suspenseful chronological structure, cooking, spies, intimate and honest sex scenes, hilarious misunderstandings involving keeping halal, lovely found family moments, and the actual recipes used. What more do you want.

The Reality of Everything by Marbletopempire

One of the fics I desperately waited for each instalment for. Very funny, lots of sexual tension, plenty of Cate Blanchette spotting opportunities.

sine qua non by mellyflori (@werebearbearbar)

One of the first of their fics I read, with a very sweet build up of misunderstanding to friends to lovers, involving growing up, discovering sexuality, trying to be nice about your best friend's bad boyfriend, and a long suffering sofa.

The Brooklyn Verse (series) by GayLittleEarring, yusufsmoon, nicelytousled (@marwankenzarisgaylittleearring @babygirlyusuf @nicelytousled)

I saw the creation of this on Tumblr before it was a fic, and it lived up to every expectation. Very sweet and sincere, with lots of great discussions about art, whilst also very funny (Lamp the free loader, Joe sending thirst traps out of irritation) and hot. ItalianAmericanNickyfromBrooklyn and Joe my beloveds.

a good (eighth) impression by deaniker

I love a good hook-up to 'oh shit I have feelings' fic, and this is even more entertaining because Nicky is Lykon's ex, and Joe has very much seen him at his worst.

You do not have to be good by emjee (MerryHeart) (@emjee)

At one point a tumblr post about Joe the Professor and Nicky the Priest got very popular, and I'm not sure if this fic was inspired by that, but is one of the great fics with similar concepts. Such a lovely, gentle fic about love and also identity, featuring also Nile and a very sweet snail.

it's such an almighty sound (series) by raedear (@raedear)

A secret service AU that goes full enemies to lovers, with lots of tension, plotting, betrayal, frustration, and tenderness.

Honourable mention: take my hand (you got me rockin' and rollin')

fight 'til the day that i die 'verse by incurableromancer

Suspenseful, noir, super hero AU that has such a great writing style and is very atmospheric.

if you do take a thief by knoepfchen (@knoepfchen)

Cluedo style AU with lots of fun twists and slow building of backstories, with the whole gang.

Honourable mention: life is not the things that we do (it's who we're doing them with)

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-one

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This story takes place during the era between Finding God Before God Finds Me and The Death of Peace of Mind. Tags will be open, send in an ask or comment on the chapter. I'll try to catch every one!

Swearing from below caught my attention as I reluctantly dragged myself out of my bunk to the noise. It was angry and loud followed by a kick then some more swearing. I ran a hand through my hair while I exited the tour bus and raised a brow to my fellow bandmate and boyfriend, Trey. 

"What's your problem?" 

He shot me a look, one that he thought would scare me, but I nearly chuckled at the sight of it. 

"You forgot to pack my laptop. I can't find it on the bus or down here." 

Now my eyes sliced into him. "I didn't pack shit of yours, Trey. I told you I was already stressing out about this tour, the last thing I needed was to take care of you." 

He scoffed before slamming the door to the under compartment of the bus shut. "Why the fuck are you stressing out for? It's not like it's our first tour." 

As he walked past me, I smelled the lingering scent of vodka and nearly strangled him. Leave it to Trey to drink before eleven a.m. Tonight was the first night of our month-long tour across the United States and here he was, drunk before soundcheck. And he dares to ask me why I'm so stressed out. 

"Maybe I'm stressed out because this is our first sold-out tour and you're already drunk," I seethed while following him down the street. 

Trey pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Calm down, Y/N. It's not like I can't perform drunk." 

The long locks of his curly hair fell into his face and he ran a hand through it to push it away from his eyes. The tattoo on his palm caught my attention like it always did. 

Rose. 

No, not a tattoo of the flower but a name; his ex-fiance. 

I absolutely hated that tattoo and after two years of dating, I begged him to get it covered up but he refused. Which should have been the first sign to leave him but I was desperate for some kind of relationship with him so I overlooked it. 

Like everything else about Trey. 

Plus, our band Hollow Souls was his and if I broke up with him, Trey would turn the rest of the guys against me. I couldn't afford for that to happen. When Trey came to me, as a friend, four years ago with the idea of starting a band, I thought he was crazy. Especially when he wanted me to sing for the band, he was the screamer and guitar player, so why would they need me to sing?

"Your voice is amazing, Y/N. Think how cool our band would be with my screams and your soft singing. There's nothing like it." 

Now four years later, Hollow Souls were one of the most popular bands in the metal genre and this was our second tour in the last year. We might have been exhausted but the prospect of touring with another band that was just rising to fame made us all giddy with excitement so of course we agreed to another tour. 

Well, not all of us were excited to be touring with this band. Trey made his distaste for them pretty damn clear; hence why he was drinking already. 

"Why don't you go sleep off your hangover, I'm sure you still have and I'll come find you when our soundcheck starts," I suggested. 

Trey tossed down the butt of his cigarette and walked away, without stomping it out. Rolling my eyes, I crushed it beneath my boot then slowly followed him back to the parking lot of the venue where our bus was parked. 

"Fuck sleep. I want to be wide awake when those assholes show up." 

I shook my head at Trey. "Why do you hate them so much? We haven't even met them." 

He whipped his head around. "You haven't but I have. Their vocalist is a young entitled prick who thinks just because they had one hit off their last album that they deserve to have their name bigger on OUR tour poster?" 

Oh, here we fucking go. Again. 

I pushed past him to make my way to the bus. "You're so fucking stupid, Trey. You're believing bullshit you read online. When have they ever come out and said that themselves?" 

"Don't walk away from me," Trey hissed while grabbing my hand; a little too hard.

I ignored the pain by keeping my gaze hard on his face. "Trey, let me go. Now." 

Movement sounded behind him and I peered over his shoulder to see Chase, our drummer, poke his head out from the bus. 

"Everything alright?" He gave us a curious look. 

"Yep," I ripped my arm from Trey. 

Chase patted my shoulder as I climbed up the stairs of our tour bus and didn't bother to look toward Malcolm, our bass player, as I retreated into my bunk. Our soundcheck was in a few hours and if I wanted to make sure our first show went off without a hitch, I needed to calm myself. 

Three hours later, I was dressed in one of our merch hoodies and a pair of black biker shorts ready to get soundcheck over with. Trey didn't bother coming back to the bus and after waiting for him, Malcom suggested we should head into the venue without him. The wind blew through my hair as I stepped off the bus and gave a worried glance to Chase. 

"Did you find him?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "I texted him but no response. You know him, Y/N. He's probably at a bar right now but he'll be here in time for the show."

Reluctantly, I nodded and followed Chase into the backdoor of the venue when a large bus pulled up right next to ours. 

"About time," Malcom chuckled as he appeared almost out of thin air right next to me. 

His red hair was pulled back tight into a bun, his emerald eyes shining with the rays of the sun. Chase, whose blonde hair was buzzed short and blue eyes were dark as the night ocean, waved to the mystery bus as the door opened. 

"The next time I take your directions, Malcolm I'm having you pay to fill up the bus' gas tank," a man with long hair and a thick accent said as he took the final step from the bus. 

Malcom rolled his eyes before doing the typical man/bro hug. "Fuck you, Jolly. My directions were perfect. It's the only venue in all of Texas that has a blue roof." 

I looked over to my shoulder so I could look at the venue but smacked Malcolm in the chest. "You dumbass. The roof isn't blue; it's red!" 

He gave a sheepish smile while shrugging. "Oh shit. I forgot I'm colorblind." 

"No, you're not," Chase noted. 

The man, Jolly, chuckled while extending his hand to me after he hugged Chase. Clearly, they already knew each other. 

"I'm Jolly, guitar player of Bad Omens." 

With a bright smile, I shook his hand. "Y/N, clean vocalist for Hollow Souls." 

"Oh trust me, I know who you are. We listen to you guys pretty often; huge fans. Noah talks about your vocal range all the time," Jolly admitted while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

A red hue crept over my face at the simple compliment. It wasn't something I heard often because everyone always talked about Trey's screams and how long he could hold a note or how deep his growls could go. 

"That means a lot to me, really. Few people compliment me, it's usually something they save for Trey," I admitted while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Well, it's true," a different man slinked up beside Jolly with a goofy, bright smile. "I'm Nick but you can call me Folio." 

"Oh, let me guess." I tapped my chin. "Drummer?" 

Folio chuckled while nodding. "What gave it away?" 

I pointed to his hoodie pocket. "The drumsticks." 

Another guy with hair down to his shoulders emerged from the bus and nodded towards the group of us. "Blue roof my ass." 

Malcolm rolled his eyes and flipped this guy the middle finger. "Sorry, Nick. I forgot I'm colorblind." 

Chase pinched his eyes shut. "No. You're not." 

"Wait," I pointed between the two men. "You're both Nick?" 

They nodded and Folio spoke next. "Which is why you can call me Folio." 

Nick then extended his hand towards me. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows." 

I don't know why but that small tidbit of information made my heart stutter. I had no idea who this Noah was but apparently; he thought pretty highly of me. 

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," I laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of my feet. 

Then as if the air around me shifted, taking all the oxygen from my lungs, I watched as the final member of Bad Omens exited the bus. A black beanie covered most of his long hair and the brown jacket he wore did absolute wonders for his skin. The black jeans hugged every inch of his thighs as he walked towards us; no, almost stalked towards us in a way that practically screamed confidence. His plump lips parted to speak and my ears were hit with the most angelic voice I ever heard. 

"Malcolm, your directions-." 

My bandmate groaned while rolling his eyes. "Yes, I already fucking know." 

As the guys chatted amongst themselves for a moment, my eyes were glued to the tall man in front of me. Easily he had to be six foot three because being only a few feet away from me, he towered over me. Tattoos were peaking out from the collar of his shirt and when he extended his hand towards me, I trailed over every single tattoo on his fingers. 

Long fingers that could make the devil weep in sin. 

"Hey, I'm Noah." 

When I realized he was talking to me, I blinked a few times and stammered out my name. 

"Y-Y/N. Nice to meet you," I shook his large hand, and the immediate warmth his gentle touch brought made me weak in the knees. 

"Trust me, I know who you are," Noah smiled. 

Suddenly gaining more confidence from his smile alone, I playfully raised a brow at him. "Yeah, your bandmates kind of told me you're a huge fan." 

Oh fuck, even his laugh sounded breathtaking. 

"Yes, I'll be the first one to admit that. When the record label told us who we're touring with, I may have fanboyed." 

Chase hummed in response before ruffling my hair. "Rightfully so. Y/N is what makes Hollow Souls." 

I pushed his arm away. "Whatever. All I do is sing." 

All of this attention towards me wasn't why I was so defensive. It was because if Trey heard me getting all the praise, he would blow a fucking gasket. He always thought he was the center of Hollow Souls since he started the band so whenever someone else besides him got even a hint of praise, he would throw a fit. 

Noah snorted. "You're too hard on yourself, Y/N. The range your voice gets is insane." 

The blush never left my face, only intensified, so I stared down at the toes of my shoes because I wasn't sure how to take yet another compliment. 

"Speaking of which," Chase sighed. "We should probably find out where Trey went." 

"I'm honored you're all worried about me." 

Internally, I cringed when an arm slung around my shoulder and a wet kiss was plastered to my cheek. I was avoiding the gazes of everyone and I nearly missed the look of shock that crossed over Noah's face as Trey left another kiss on my cheek after I wiped away the first one. 

"You stink," I muttered under my breath. 

"Sorry, sugar. I had a few drinks at the bar down the road," Trey admitted while brushing his hair away from his face. 

The sides were shaved, but the rest lay on top of his head in a curly mess. His dark eyes held no light behind them, it dying so long ago, and the array of tattoos that littered his arms were as dull as his soul. The alcohol and stardom over the years changed Trey and not for the better. Before we started dating, Trey was the most vibrant soul I'd ever met but once we got together and Hollow Souls took off, everything changed. He became the asshole that now stood next to me. 

Many would ask why I was still with Trey but he was familiar and I didn't want to go through the fear of starting over. Also, I liked my position in the band and didn't want to mess that up. 

Trey nodded to Chase and Malcom, completely ignoring the guys of Bad Omens. 

"How'd soundcheck go?" 

Chase scoffed. "We haven't even started. We were waiting for you." 

"Oh, you guys don't need me. Since Y/N here is the heart and soul of our band," Trey pushed himself off of me but then smacked my ass. "Let's get moving, babe. We're wasting time out here." 

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling very embarrassed with the way Trey was treating me, something Noah immediately picked up on. 

"Nice to see you again, Trey," he said. 

"Noah," Trey gave him a curt nod then linked his fingers in mine to drag me away from them. 

NOAH

Holy shit. She's real and absolutely beautiful. 

The pictures on her Instagram paled in comparison to the real thing standing in front of me. The way her hair blew across the softness of her face or how when the afternoon sun casts over her eyes at just the right angle, they shined with so much light it made my heart flutter. And when her cheeks flushed red as I complimented her voice or the way her eyes cast downward, it made all the blood in my body rush straight to my dick and I suddenly cursed myself for wearing such tight jeans. 

Then that prick Trey came along and treated her like she was nothing as he dragged her away. I nearly stepped between them but with the stern look that Jolly gave me, I knew it was best not to get involved. 

"This is going to be a long few weeks," Nick said as we all watched the members of Hollow Souls walk into the venue. 

"I'd be happy if Trey wasn't a part of it," I said truthfully. 

Folio hummed in agreement. "He's always had a problem with us even before you flirted with his girlfriend." 

"I didn't know they were dating," I retorted back. "And I wasn't flirting with her." 

"Right," Jolly nodded. "Because the looks you two were giving each other weren't all that heart-eye shit they talk about in romance novels." 

Thankfully, our crew's bus pulled up right on time so I didn't have to explain myself and for the next while, we helped everyone take our equipment from the bus to the venue where Hollow Souls was still doing soundcheck. Every so often, Y/N's ethereal voice would pierce into my soul causing me to stand still in place, watching her on that stage. 

As much as I disliked the guy, with his deep guttural screams and her siren-like voice, they were perfectly made for this. 

"You're staring," Nick whispered as he walked behind me to set down one of the large crates. 

"Fuck off," I grumbled before adjusting the beanie on my head and reluctantly walked away from the stage.

[thetreefairy]

Is it alright if I request Yandere father Gojo satoru where his daughters ability is to control time since Gojo has absolute control over space at an atomic level and she also has infinity but he never taught her how to use it but durining the shibuya arc she either reverses or stopped time to save a couple of people a d stop certain events from happpening (if this is too much you do t have to do the whole shibuya arc part )

Sorry that this is long anyways have a nice night/day ( `ε´ )

Since I have not watched season 2 yet, I am not doing the shibuya arc part. Since you also specified fem pronouns, the reader will be fem.

edit: hehehe, I forgot to say: have a nice day as well and I loved this request :D

warnings: yandere themes, isolation mentioned (I do not condone this and if you can seek help please do), Gojo is a piece of shit and two-faced, Reader is done with life, swearing because author is in pain and sick and when the author is sick they swear a lot, vague ending

I don't understand the ability completely, but I made it so that if you didn't master it properly you can get hurt when you use the ability (which might actually be apart of it, but my memory is shit)

Ko-fi

Consequences and actions

Goji Satoru was the first sorcerer to be born with limitless and six eyes in 400 years, so truly he was surprised when he saw that his daughter had them too. It was weaker than his, yes.

But he didn't know what to do. He didn't want his daughter to master both because then she wouldn't need him anymore.

"Dad can you teach me use both?" Reader had once asked, and his answer was: "There is no reason for you to learn."

It frustrated Reader to no end, she had the abilities but she wasn't allowed to develop and become a full-pledged sorcerer.

Satoru could understand Reader's frustration to an extent, but after a while of you complaining and begging to start training, he started to get annoyed.

"Reader, if you don't stop complaining right now, you will lose your communication privileges." Satoru hissed. Reader scoffed and muttered; "You should just call it isolation."

"Watch your mouth." Satoru hissed. "That's no way to speak to your father."

Reader rolled her eyes. "I just don't get why." Satoru sighed and spoke softl; "It's too dangerous, you would get on the curses radar and right now I got the world believing that you are just a child with no special powers, with no grade."

"When you are gone." Reader started. "How will I be able to protect myself if you aren't here?"

"That's not for you to worry about, now stop complaining and whining about it."

Unfortunately for Satoru his students like Reader more than him, so they helped her with learning how to control their abilities. Well to the best of their extent.

So when Reader had been good in Satoru's opinion she could tag along on a school mission. "Remember, if there is a fight run don't fight. I'll find you with your tracker."

"Wait what tracker-"

"Excuse me I misspoke. Habits, I meant habits." Satoru lied quickly with a grin and kissed Reader' forehead, sounding rather soft. "Now can you promise me you'll stay out of the way before we meet with the class?"

Reader nodded and hugged Satoru. "Thank you dad for taking me with you."

"No problem, kid." Satoru chuckled.

Unfortunately for Reader she couldn't keep that promise. Out of instinct she protected Satoru and Yuji for a curse that suddenly appeared. What was worse is that she used her abilities.

But using your abilities out of instinct can hurt you quite a lot, Reader started to bleed out of her eyes..

"D-dad." Reader muttered out. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

Satoru brushed away Reader's blood stained tears. "It's okay, you did it out of instinct." This caused Reader to become confused. "Y-you aren't mad?"

"Baby, you are injured you think I will be mad right now?" Satoru asked Megumi to grab his eye cream and used it on you. "Class dismissed."

Satoru took Reader home, unexpectedly calm. Causing Reader to feel like a storm was coming. Satoru was making her a drink when he asked: "You trained your abilities, didn't you?"

Reader tensed up and nodded slowly. It was better to be truthful, right now. "... I suppose I cannot be that angry as it might have saved your life." Satoru muttered with a frown. "Drink this."

A glass of soda was put infront of her. Reader drank it, she was quite de-hydrated. "Thank you, papa."

"Why did you train without my permission?" Satoru asked. "I want to be able to protect myself." She admitted. "So that you can trust me with going out more."

Satoru chuckled as her eyes became dazy. "Perhaps you should figure out when your drink is spiked then."

Reader stood up and stepped back in shock.

"Awh, did you really think you wouldn't be punished?" He grinned. "How cute my dear daughter."

She tried to back away knowing full well what will happen.

"Maybe I should break your legs." Satoru mumbled doing a fake thoughtful look. "I got it!"

"Dad, please."

"I will make sure that you fully understand my love!" Reader knew what this meant, being locked up, and much more. "Maybe I should get you another parent to help with that as well..."

Oh, that was new.

"But I don't want to share you at all...."

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - My Fawn & My Shadow: Chapter Eighteen

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Why 2 alternate endings? A few reasons; the main reason is because I wrote this first part with Angel and Mikaela and FELL IN LOVE with it. It was so cute and adorable I had to include it somehow. Also, because not everyone loves a pregnancy trope. I, particularly, was genuinely torn. I could not decide how I wanted things to end. "My Fawn and My Shadow" will include a pregnancy trope but "Paris" will not.

I will say, the epilogue I have planned for "My Fawn and My Shadow" had me crying (were they happy tears? were they sad tears? Is she foreshadowing? IDK!) - but, that being said, to each their own. Should you choose to read both, be aware that some sections are straight up copy and paste. The Epilogues will obviously vary greatly.

P.S. Ignore the timeline for the pregnancy trope. In reality, this is not how biology works. But someone *cough* author *cough* forgot to factor in the timeline by the time she got to this chapter... It was part of my original outline, but I got carried away *insert upside-down smiley face here*

<3 Stay smutty

My Fawn & My Shadow:

Chapter Eighteen

Content Warning: Unwanted Pregnancy, Suggestions of Abortion, Self Harm

T-6 Hours Before the Portal Opens...

“Angel!” you practically screamed, falling into the spider demon’s destroyed room. Well, technically, it was not destroyed; this was his normal state of being. 

You fall onto the bed, your foot catching on a wadded-up sweater on the ground. You got a face full of Fat Nuggets before Angel jumped up and almost punched you in the stomach. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ in here, Hairclip, screaming and scaring the shit out of me this early in the mornin’!?” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. You noted the time - it was ten in the morning - not that early. Well, early for Angel. 

“I need you to come with me somewhere,” the anxiety was bubbling in your chest, overflowing into your words.

Angel paused, “Is everything okay? Is it the Extermination? Did they come early!?” 

“Angel,” you bite. “Please?” 

He looked at you, trying to read behind your eyes, before fully seeing how serious you were. He nodded before pushing Fat Nuggets to the side so he could get up and dress. 

“So, uh, where we goin’?” He asked as he pulled on a pair of pants. The demon struggled a bit, be it the sudden cessation of slumber or the booze from yesterday, or both, you didn’t know.

You curl into yourself on his bed, knotting your hands together to stop the shaking. “Wrath.” 

Angel froze, his eyes alight with shock. “I’m sorry, toots, I don’t think I heard ya’ right. Wrath? As in the Circle of Hell?” 

You nodded. 

“Wow,” he gawked. “This is serious… Wait, I can’t leave Pride, so how…” 

You snapped your fingers before he finished his sentence, amassing a portal in the middle of his room. The Circle’s familiar orange glow illuminated his white fur. 

Angel jumped backward and fell on the ground, his mouth gaping at the interdimensional crack you just punched into his bedroom wall. “Holy shit fuck!” 

Oh, you forgot only Alastor knew you could do that. Desperate times, however…

“You can, actually,” you shrug. “Just gotta take a different door.” 

Angel looked between you and the wall a few more times before shaking his head and finished dressing. 

Your mind was numb, your thoughts all jumbled into a knotted mess. How could this have happened? It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t…

“Hey,” he put a hand on your knee, pulling you from your thoughts. “Ya’ okay?” He looked down at you with wide eyes. Angel was the only one you could trust right now. 

You nod before taking his hand. 

Wrath was a time capsule, stuck in the ages of the Wild West: the American Frontier. Fitting the place named for anger was a desert. 

Despite the change of seasons in the world above, Wrath was scorching. Although the Harvest Moon Festival was still a few months away, the locals were skittering about the small town in preparation. They were so busy they didn’t think twice at the two strangers zipping through the traffic, hidden under hoods and glasses. Angel protested at first, but once you pointed out that Wrath natives were imps, then he understood - the spider demon would stick out like a sore thumb. 

The demon ducked under the doorframe - probably three times the height of an average imp, but you couldn’t help that. The imps stared but not too long. 

“A convenience store? You dragged me all the way down here for a candy bar?” Angel spun in circles, taking in everything. 

God, he was so obvious.

“No,” was all you could manage. 

Being a Native Heaven born you were subject to certain… biological processes that Human Sinners were not. No surprise the Pride Ring didn’t sell the necessary products to aid in those situations, so you’d slip down here, grab a few things and head back up. 

But this…

You headed down the aisle labeled “Feminine Products” and stopped deadpan at what you were looking for. There were so many options, how did you know which one was the right one? 

“So hey, how about we check out a bar while we’re… Oh,” Angel came to a stop next to you, noticing the blood drain from your face at the things you were looking at. “Oh, shit, Hairclip.” 

“Yeah,” your voice cracked, trying to hold back tears. 

Angel’s hand found your shoulder. He shook his head. “But how? I thought Human Sinners couldn’t… ya know?” 

“Reproduce.” You filled in the blank for him. “Me neither.”

Angel was silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. 

“But…” your lip quivered, “then I remembered my brother and Lilith. Where Adam was the first human soul in Heaven, Lilith was the first human soul in Hell, technically, and they had Charlie. I’m an Angel, like my brother and Al is a Human Sinner so…”

“Shit,” Angel breathed. 

Then you started to chuckle, “I don’t even know which one to buy.” 

Angel pulled you close, “Me neither, dollface, but we’ll figure this out together. I’m assuming you got money?” 

You nodded, the anxiety bubbling over into silent tears on your face. You started hiccuping, the emotional wave too much for your frazzled mind to handle. 

Angel grabbed all five of them, paid for them with the Native money you pulled from your pocket, then dragged you into the bathroom and locked the door. 

You sat on the floor, Angel starting a timer for the three minute countdown. Longest three minutes of your life. 

The spider demon sat cross-legged across from you. “So, why bring lil’ ol’ me and not Smiles?” 

You hiccuped, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around yourself. “The Extermination is today. I can’t… He can’t be thinking about me. He has Adam to deal with. He can’t…”

“And what about yous?” 

You breathed, “I’ll be on the field with you guys, just like we planned.” 

“But…”

“No.” You stopped him. “No, Angel. No matter what happens, Al can’t know. Not until after. Please,” you begged. “He can’t know anything is wrong he…” you hiccuped. “Al isn’t as strong and invincible as he seems.”

“Wow, here I thought you thought he walked on water.”

You dropped your face into your knees and gave a small sob. The memories of the fake Radio Demon being held hostage at Voxtech flit through your mind. And, although it wasn't actually Al tied to the chair, he was still a Human Sinner. Which meant he could die. You could as well but not as easily...

“Hey, hey,” Angel crawled to your side and pulled you into your arms. “Okay, okay, I won’t say nothin’.” 

“Not around radios either,” you sniffled. “They work both ways with Al.”

You had tested it in passing the other day. Just to see what would happen. Although Al was not happy about the dirty comment you made into his speaker - as it pulled him from important business in one of his territories - he didn’t seem too upset when he pulled you through his shadows and properly snogged you in the Hotel hallway.

“Shit, seriously? If that’s the case then that man’s heard a lot of things from me he shouldn’t have. A lot of fun noises, too.” The spider demon wriggled his eyebrows, making you giggle. 

Angel always knew how to bring a smile to your face. 

“So, can I ask ya’ somethun’?” Angel’s tone turned serious, making your heart skip a beat. “Is the sex good?” 

You snorted, drying the tears under your eyes. 

“Look I ain’t judging, Hairclip, but ya’ always come down with these bruises and… marks. Don’t get me wrong it's hot, but I just wanna make sure he ain’t like… hurtin’ ya’ or nothin’?”

“No, no Angel. Al is a gentleman, I assure you.” A small smile formed on your lips. 

“So?” He nudged you.

“Insanely,” you giggled. 

“Figures. He’s hung isn’t he?” He winks.

You snorted into your hand. “Angel!” 

“Oh, come on. You ain’t gonna tell me the Radio Demon ain’t packin’? No way, I don’t believe it.”

“Well…” your face turned a bright red.

“I fuckin’ new it!” Angel cheered. 

RING! RING! RING! 

You stopped breathing completely. Angel shut off the alarm, before turning to you. “You want me to…?”

You nodded, your eyes staring off into space, the only thing you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears. You couldn’t look up as Angel checked the tests, didn’t dare try to read the expression in his eyes and mouth. 

The demon grabbed one, wrapped in a paper towel, and knelt before you.

“Before I show you this,” he turned the test upside down so you couldn’t read it. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.” 

A shaky breath escaped your lips, “I…”

What were you thinking? Fear, definitely fear, but were you devastated? Excited? Filled with hope or filled with dread? You didn’t know what to feel. You didn’t know what to feel because you didn’t know how Al was going to react if it came back positive. 

Would he be angry? Would he be excited? Would he even react at all? 

No. Your heart sank. No, he wouldn’t be excited. There are two things Al cares about: power, and chaos. There wasn’t room for anything else… or anyone…

You’d have to get rid of it. 

“I think, no matter what, I’ll tell Al after the Extermination tomorrow.” 

Angel nodded and flipped the test over. 

____________________________________________

T-3 hours until the portal opens…

“Okay, okay, I got this!” Collin breathed. 

Cletus banged him atop his head, “Just open the door!”

The sheep shot a dirty look at the… baby?... before drying his sweaty hooves on his overalls. 

This was it. This was the moment Collin had been waiting for his entire life. He has only ever seen the famous General at a distance and worshipped her from a far during meetings and through photographs. He had every single one of her fan club t-shirts and collector’s pins. He knew her battle strategies inside and out and scored perfect at every trivia night. He was the ultimate fan-girl and this was his moment to shine. 

And he was terrified. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Kennie shoved past him. “I’ll do it!” She prostrated before pulling the bedroom door open. 

The group froze, stunned by the sight of the yellow-eyed Angel ready and waiting for them on the other side. Mikaela Morningstar sat in a clothed chair perfectly perched in the entryway to her bedroom. The Angel had just finished the top laces of her leather boots before the Cherubs burst through the doorway. 

Mikaela had been waiting for them. 

Collin’s jaw audibly hit the floor at the sight of the warrior, legs crossed, one eyebrow perched in question, staring down at the three of them. She was like a goddess in material form - not to disrespect the Maker, of course. Her beauty practically radiated off of her in golden light as captivating as her irises. Although she had changed her hair and her wings were tucked out of the way, she was a vision. Collin couldn’t help but drool at the sight of her. 

“About time the three of you showed up,” the Angel laughed. “Talk about keeping a girl waiting.”

“You…” Cletus stumbled over his words. “You knew we were here?”

“Knew?” The Angel tipped her head in question. A habit she had picked up from a dear… friend. “You’ve been following me for days. Nifty’s collection of wool can only grow so much before a girl gets suspicious.” Mikaela laughed it off as if it was a joke, but Keenie’s head was still very, very sore. 

The Cherubs had no answer for her. 

“What can I do for you?” With hands perched in her lap, the General inspected the three of them, lazily soaking in their forms as they collectively entered the room. 

Wow. Mikaela Morningstar had expected them. Well, duh! Of course! She was God’s General! How could she not have seen them coming? She probably knew about everything: the phone call from Velvette, the orders from Rachel, their banishment from Heaven. She was, after all, an Archangel. Collin still couldn’t comprehend the situation. 

“Ms. Morningstar,” Collin began. Did he sound as nervous as he felt? “We have been sent from Heaven to return you to the Seraphim.”

The Angel blinked, but didn’t respond. Her face remained neutral as Collin spoke and even for a few moments after. He wiped his hooves on his pants again. The Cherub was thoroughly drenched in anxious sweat, which, hopefully, no one noticed. 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Kennie shoved her way forward. “Because you belong there? You’re Mikaela, the General, Heaven’s Archangel. You’ve been gone for over a hundred years doing…”

“God’s work.” Mikaela interrupted the sheep. 

“What?” Cletus asked. 

The Archangel chuckled. “You didn’t seriously think I just ran away from Heaven on a whim, did you?” 

The three Cherubs looked at each other for an answer, but it was the sheep who spoke first. “No, of course not!”

“Thank you, Collin,” Mikaela smiled. 

The Cherub’s heart jumped right out of his chest. “You know my name!?”

“Of course,” her eyes softened. “Why wouldn’t I know one of my biggest fans?”

____________________________________________

Yesterday…

“Hello, thank you for calling, C.H.E.R.U.B., how may we bless you today?”

“Hi! I’m calling about a loved one back on Earth who needs some help. It seems he’s lost his way a bit and I’d really rather not see him down here.” You twirled the cord in your hand.

Alastor sat across from you, a cup of tea in hand, one leg crossed over the other as he enjoyed the dyling light of day. 

“Of course! Can I get a name?”

“Well, actually… I’m quite protective of him, you see, and I want to know that you are sending your best.” The sweetness in your voice was practically sickening, but it made Alastor chuckle. “I was wondering who would be going. Would it be the three from the television commercial?”

“Cletus, Collin, and Keenie? By golly, no! They don’t work for us anymore.”

“Interesting…” You smiled. 

“Can I get the name of the person who needs a blessing?”

“No,” and you hung up the receiver. 

Alastor chuckled as he sipped his tea. “You make this look too easy, my doe. If it weren’t for the circumstances, you'd be running the place.”

This place... As in all of existence.

You grabbed your jasmine tea and clanked your cup with his. “How unfortunate the plan is to destroy it all instead.”

____________________________________________

Now...

The Cherub nearly feinted. 

The Archangel leaned in, speaking to the sheep directly. “You have to promise to keep everything I tell you a secret. No one can know that I am here.”

Collin blinked the stars from his eyes, “Of course! I would never!” 

In a whisper, Mikaela continued, “I’m on a secret mission from God. I can’t go into any detail, naturally…”

“Naturally!” Collin was nodding his head so hard he could have been mistaken for a bobble head. 

Mikaela leaned in a whispered, “... I’m here to find Roo.”

Collin stopped nodding. “Roo?”

“Roo.” Mikaela repeated, as if that answered all of their questions. 

“Wait!” Cletus interrupted once more. “You’re telling us that you are supposed to be here? Cavorting with demons!”

“Shhh,” Mikaela shushed. “Yes.”

Keenie scratched her sore head. “To find someone named Roo?”

“She’s the biggest threat against Heaven. Rumor has it that she’s planning an uprising against God. That’s why he left with me and went into hiding. Couldn’t have him unprotected while I hunted down this rebel.”

Too much information? Nope! Who the fuck is going to believe a bunch of banished Cherubs anyway? They can’t get back to Heaven and no one in Heaven would take them seriously even if they did. Negatives of fucking up with the Upstairs Management but a positive for you.

You could have told them any story that convinced them to leave you alone, and it would be no sweat off your back.

“Oooooooh,” Collin nodded. “That makes so much sense!”

“What!?” Keenie and Cletus echoed each other. 

“What?” Mikaela looked confused. “Do you think I’m lying?” She laughed. “Come now. I may be surrounded by demons, but I am still an Angel.” 

The three Cherubs blinked at her. 

“Oh.” Cletus awkwardly scratched his large head. 

Heaven Natives are so naive. Were you this gullible way back when?

The Angel adjusted the tie on her leather bracer. “And the three of you are interfering with my plan.” 

“What!?” Collin gawked. 

“I can’t exactly have Heaven stalking my every move while I’m on the job,” Mikaela rises from her chair, a towering figure over the tiny Cherubs. 

“Right! Right!” Collin was already headed for the door. 

Mikaela quickly ushered the other two out, ignoring the look of disbelief on their faces. 

“Thanks for understanding, guys.”

And then door shut behind them. 

Collin continued to drool in the direction of the doorway. 

“Now what?” Keenie asked as she dragged him by the collar down the hall.

“She’s so cool,” Collin gawked. 

Cletus smacked his face and rubbed the tension from his temples. “We return to Earth. I need time to think about this and I’m starving. I sure as fudge am not eating anything down here…”

____________________________________________

You shut the door behind them. 

“See,” you turned to the shadow at the back of the room. “I told you they’d believe me.” 

Alastor materialized from the darkness. With his cane in hand, he snaked the other around your waist and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You tried not to shutter at the contact, tried not to think about your stomach pressing into Al's…

This was not the first time you had run into one of Father’s minions. With Eve’s wild party streak, the two of you didn’t exactly keep a low profile. In fact, it would be odd for the two of you to not run into one of the Ishim or even a few Cherubs while they were on the job. You were recognized - because of course - and typically played it off as a happenstance run in while on a mission.

After all, the rumors in Heaven were that you were on some top secret mission with Father anyway. What were they more likely to believe: you were being a good little “Golden Girl” or playing Armageddon with Eve?

Eve on the other hand, either slept with the Holy invader if able, convinced them she was mortal if they were too young to know her face, or simply disappeared leaving you to fend for yourself.

What a friendship the two of you had…

“I never doubted you, my doe,” the demon mumbled into your hair. 

Trying to distract your mind before it decided to focus on the adventure from this morning, you grabbed for Alastor’s lapels to pull him down and…

“Alastor, what’s in your coat pocket?” Your fingers met something hard and boxy. 

The demon ignored your question. Instead, from the Void, Alastor pulled a hair clip - a new one. The metal was red, and pointed, with a small “A” pressed into one of the tongs. 

“I had Carmilla make it,” the demon holds the clip between the two of you, pushing you back so you are no longer pressed so closely together.

Which greatly helped the nerves. 

The red was a perfect match to Alastor’s eyes. 

How intentional… 

“Thank you,” you reached for it, but he pulled away. 

The demon was distracting you, but you allowed it. Your nerves were shot anyway and Alastor felt… off…

“Allow me?” He offered. 

Turning towards the mirror above the dresser, Alastor flipped your hair into a bun, clipping it at the back of your head perfectly square with your shoulders. 

You stared at the demon’s reflection in the mirror, noting the lack of music playing on his radio, noting the loss of static in his voice. He was nervous… 

“Al, everything changes after today. This is where the Endgame plan truly begins.” You tested the waters to see if that was what was bugging him.

“Hmm,” the demon continued to inspect your hair, his mind clearly stuck on something else. Not Armageddon playing his thoughts?

“But,” you turned to him, your back leaning against the dresser. “If I know war, and I do, there is always a lull after a battle. Perhaps, if just for a few days, we get out of here?”

“Oh?”

“I have safe houses in every Ring of Hell and in a few major countries on Earth - including an emergency backup in Heaven if things end up truly terrible… I have an apartment…” God, why were you so nervous? “In France.” 

The demon’s eyes sparked. 

“It’s in Place de l'Estrapade, not a far walk from the Pont Neuf bridge, just across the way from Jardin du Luxembourg*. I know it’s not Louisiana, but… There’s this adorable bakery in the square that I know you will love and…”

The demon swallowed your words with his lips. “Mes valises sont déjà faites. My bags are already packed.”

Right, why did you ever think Alastor Hartfelt would turn down a trip to France? 

Alastor’s shoulder slacked just a bit.

Then it hit you.

It was the after that was bugging him. After the battle that is. He comforted you last night in regards to your qualms with the battle, but funny how facing imminent death felt like an everyday for the Overlord.

But the after made him nervous.

The after…

Fuck, you promised Angel you’d tell Al after.

Your stomach turned itself into knots and threatened to spill all over the carpet. How would you explain that one to the demon?

Fuck.

Did you tell him now that you and Angel went to Wrath? Tell him what happened? Your mouth watered bitterly at the thought that you were lying to him - you had promised no more lies - but were you truly lying? This was for his own good. This was for his protection. If anything happened to Al, it would be your fault.

Your fault.

YoUr FaUlT.

YOUR FAULT.

The air was suddenly sucked from the room.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“You lovebirds done shackin’ up o’ what?” Angel screamed from the other side of the wall. 

“Seriously?” Husk scoffed. “You called me up here for this?”

“What? Come on, Whiskers, you love spendin’ time with me,” Angel teased. 

You could practically hear the disbelief on Husk’s face through the door, “I thought you wanted me to help you bring something down, not hold your fuckin’ hand because you’re too scared of the Boss.”

“I ain’t scared of nothin’!” The spider demon protested. 

You smiled at Alastor, grateful for the spontaneous distraction. The demon pressed a kiss to your cheek and melted into shadow. 

Throwing the door open, both Husk and Angel jumped back in surprise before they realized it was just you. 

“Ha!” Angel crosses his arms. “See yous was scared, too!”

“I..!” Husk’s face turns red. “I was scared because she fuckin’ appeared outta nowhere, not because of…”

“Me,” Alastor melted from the floor, appearing behind the two of them. 

Angel jumped into you, grabbing onto your arm for support, while Husk remained utterly unphased. 

“Yeah, him,” the cat crossed his arms. 

You giggled at the sight of the two of them, the laughter breathing life back into your chest.

Just don't think about it... Yeah? Yeah! Don't think about it. Everything is going to be okay! It's fine. Everything is fine!

Taking a deep breath, you planted a smile on your face. “Come on, boys, we have an army to ready.”

You snuck a glance at Alastor, who looked distracted, wholly unaware of the nerves in your belly. Whatever was captivating him, you were thankful for it. It was quite uncharacteristic of him, but then again, you’ve never seen Alastor in the hours leading up to battle.

For whatever reason, you were disappointed in the last few remaining private moments you might possibly have with the demon. Not that you were expecting a big declaration of love from him.

Holy shit, you still hadn’t even told him you love him!

Oh, no, no, no, no.

You put the brakes on.

You’d been so distracted about this morning that you completely forgot about everything from last night! “Al, I need to talk to you-“

“There she is! There’s my little tomatuh!” Rosie had you in a hug so tight one would argue it was a chokehold.

“Rosie, dear! How delightful to see you!” Alastor pressed a kiss to the top of her hand. “Is that a new scarf? It looks astonishing on you darling, absolutely astonishing!”

The Overlord’s eyes shined like stars, “Oh! Al, stop! You flatter me.” Rosie ran a hand through her new purple boa.

“It isn’t flattery if it’s true!” Al came to stand beside you, his hands wrapped around the top of his cane.

The smell of the forest after rain calmed your nerves.

It’s okay. After. You can tell him after because there will be an after.

There will be an after.

Heading down the hall you ignored Angel's worried eyes on you. You ignored Alastor's shadow swirling about your feet with concern. And you ignored Husk's offer for a drink. For you had too many things to focus on right now...

A battle to win...

An identity to keep hidden...

A Human Sinner who still didn't know how you truly felt about him...

And a secret to keep...

Welcome to the Endgame.

____________________________________________

T-1 minute until the portal opens…

“This is it,” you press your forehead into Alastor’s. “Al, I -”

“Shh, my doe. Entre deux cœurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles,” and then the demon melted into shadow, to find his place atop the Hotel.

Goddamit, the demon switched between French and English so fast you couldn’t keep up half the time.

Charlie appeared next to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll get a chance to tell him.”

You blinked. But how did she…?

“Uh,” Vaggie cut in. “I don’t mean to break up this moment, but we have Angels incoming.” The ex-Exorcist pointed her spear at the sky, where a large portal had cracked through the walls of reality.

Fixing your hood atop your head, you summoned your two short blades from the Void and readied yourself next to the Princess.

On the other side of the portal, you could make out the beautiful golden glow of Heaven. God, you did not miss it.

Two figures stepped through: Adam and Lute.

And then the onslaught began - but not before Alastor summoned his dark shield. The mass of magic covered the Hotel in a dome. Some of the Exorcists made it through, but the less fortunate ones bounced off in a wave of broken bones.

“It’s working!” Charlie screamed.

Until it wasn’t.

With a flick of Adam’s wrist the shield melted and then the exorcists fell through.

It was a dance of a battle. A beautiful pirouette of savagery and desperation, impregnating the air with the stench of golden iron.

You would have found yourself riding the high of battle had you not had Charlie to look after. Yes, Vaggie could well protect her on her own but it was the deal with Lilith that ensured no harm came to the princess.

As the princess shot sparkles you shot daggers. As she sang apologies you delivered death. Constantly you were forced to grab her by her wrist and twirl her from danger. It was hard work, one that captivated all of your attention.

Good. You needed the distraction.

BOOM!

Cherries’ explosions began, the next line of defense before the Exorcists reached Sir Pentious and his battery of cannons.

This was good! Things were looking good!

Fuck you might actually all make it out of this thing.

BAM!

The next thing you knew, you were on the ground, a pain so powerful ripping through your core it blinded every sense, every fiber of your being.

Green light exploded from the scar which cut you from neck to hip, a beacon of agony which temporarily halted the onslaught from Heaven as Human Sinners and Angels alike were forced to shield their eyes. The wall of light shot up into the atmosphere of Hell before dispersing into a rainstorm of sparks that fell upon the whole of Pentagram City.

You felt, rather than saw, hands upon you. The green had burned your retinas, completely blinding you. Your body healed fast, however, but not fast enough to clearly make out the fuzzy grey/red blob shaking your shoulders.

“Come on, kid! Come on! Don’t quit on me!”

The pain numbed your body, but your Angelic blood quickly fought against it. Your fingers and toes tingled as your mind reset itself over and over again. Where are you? What happened? The memory of pain threatened to spill as the ability to breathe found your lungs, as your eyes remembered how to blink.

“Holy Hell, what da fuck was that!?”

“I don’t fucking know, but both Boss and her went down at the same time.”

“What da fuck kind of Voodoo shit did he do ta ‘er?”

You forced your mind to clarity, forced the blurriness into - somewhat - sharper objects. A vague outline of Husk and Angel came into view, along with a background of Exorcist Angels flying overhead. The fighting had resumed despite the interruption.

“Husk?” You mumbled. Grabbing onto the cat’s paw, you slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position. Despite the pain which had surged through your scar, no wound was visible. You hadn’t been struck after all. “What…?”

There was a pull behind your navel - it was weak, oh-so weak.

Alarm bells immediately went off.

Alastor.

Without a thought, you shoved away from the cat demon and shot into the air, not caring that your wings were now on full display for the entire Angelic Army to view. Not caring that the hood Charlie helped make you was now shredded to pieces.

You hit the roof, landing practically on top of the red and black mass crumbled in a heap of blood. Using your black wings, you attempted to shield as much of Alastor as you could.

You couldn’t make out Alastor completely, your vision was still sluggish to return despite you willing your blood to heal as fast as it could, but you could feel him. You could feel his heart beating wildly, feel the pain with every breath, feel the one ounce of panic the Overlord allowed himself to feel in this moment as he watched you take up a defensive fighting stance over his prone form.

The demon was hurt and bad.

Like a panther protecting her wounded mate, you unleashed the full force of your power. Dark and twisted horns grew from your skull as you morphed into your demon form. A spiked tail uncurled from your backside, your fingernails sharpened into claws, and your fangs elongated to a point. The sclera of your eyes flashed black as the rune on your back was unlocked, the text from the Book of Knowledge melting into your hands, forming an exoskeleton of Newtonian fluid that flowed over your appendages.

As your vision healed, the Angel’s stupid helmet sharpened, a look of pure shock reflected in the metal. Adam had his guitar and Alastor’s blood was still fresh as it dripped off the blade.

“Don’t…” Alastor protested, but his sentence was cut off with a cough.

“Mikaela?” Adam’s jaw dropped.

Your only response was a low growl. Pure instinct had kicked in. You were more animal than Angel.

You felt the coldness of Rolf wrap around your ankle, but it was barely a whisper compared to how solid the shadow normally felt. The shadow tugged, threatening to whisk you away from the rooftop, but be it the weakening of Alastor’s magic or your stubbornness, you did not move.

“Holy shit, it is you! How you doing, sister?” The First Man smiled, lowering his sword.

Behind you, you could feel the blood flowing from Alastor’s chest as real and as solid as it would your own. It only added to the panic and anger and desperation you were feeling in this moment.

“Where’s Eve?” The Angel looked around as if the Second Woman might turn the corner at any moment and join the conversation.

“Dead,” you bore your teeth and growled, your voice laced with Alastor’s radio static.

“What?” Adam did a double-take.

You pulled your sword from the Void, your blue fire licking the steel’s surface as small green bouts of static danced its way down your arm and disappeared into the heat. “And you’re next,” you threatened, your voice filled with static.

“Wait,” Adam narrowed his eyes, his pupils darting back and forth between the two of you as he slowly put the pieces together. “Wait. Wait. Wait.” He put up a hand. “You’re defending this loser?”

You growled, your teeth itching to sink into flesh.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. A voice rang in the back of your head.

“Woah, there, sister. We’re on the same fucking team!” Adam had a look of pure terror on his face.

From your crouched position on the ground, you moved forward.

Adam immediately dropped his sword and began backing up. “Listen! Listen! Listen!” He stammered. “Let’s just take a fucking second and talk like bros. Okay?” His laugh was strained. “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for why you’re down here defending the scum of existence? Ha, ha. Right?”

Kill him, the voice commanded.

You growled again and attempted to take another step forward, but a clawed hand wrapped around your tail and tugged. Finally, you turned to face Alastor and the sight knocked you out of your bloodthirsty trance.

The demon was pale, a deep gouge sliced right across his chest in an exact mirror image to your injury from Velvette. You felt the anger flee from you then, only to be replaced with pure terror. You met Alastor’s stern eye and the look he shot you stopped you dead in your tracks.

But it was already too late. All of Heaven had seen. Mikaela Morningstar was alive and well in Hell, defending Lucifer’s daughter in a battle against Heaven. You had killed Exorcists. A war was brewing, and you were a part of it.

The demon shuttered out a pained breath, one you felt reverberate through your own chest. You dropped your sword, the steel popping back into the Void before it even made contact with the ground. Falling to your knees before Alastor, you cupped his face in your hands and pressed a soft but shaky kiss to his forehead.

“What, the fuck?” Adam gawked behind you.

Every part of you was screaming to rip the Angel limb from limb, but you fought the instinct, and instead channeled that energy into the connection that had ripped open between you and Alastor. You let your magic flow through your inky fingers and into the demon, willing his heart to beat faster, to slow the blood seeping from his wounds, to staunch the pain in his chest.

Alastor’s eyes fluttered closed as he took a deep breath, already the color returning to his cheeks.

You turned to Adam then, your black sclera burning pure hatred into the Angel’s heart. “I won’t be the one to kill you today, Adam.”

“I am so fucking confused,” the Angel scratched his head.

“Adam!” Charlie appeared atop the rooftop, royally pissed as she hung from the Hotel sign.

And with that, you shadowed the two of you from the rooftop, landing in the only place you could think of to go right now: Alastor’s radio tower.

Atop the balcony, you pulled the clip from your hair and slit open your wrist, dripping a waterfall of golden blood into Alastor’s wounds.

“Stop,” the demon tried to shove your hand away, but he was too weak at this moment to do anything other than lay there and breathe.

Clenching your jaw shut, you didn’t let up until you watched the first stitches of skin begin to form. Jesus Christ, the wound was deep. It had cut through several ribs but, thankfully, had not nicked his heart. Alastor would have been dead before you had even landed on that rooftop had it gone any deeper.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! You knew! You fucking knew this was going to happen!

A tear fell from your cheek and landed in the mixture of black and gold liquid swirling atop the demon’s chest.

“Stop,” Alastor said more forcefully. The demon wrapped a hand around your wrist, the golden liquid bubbling through his fingers. He pulled you down into him and pressed his forehead into yours. “I’m alright, my doe.”

“This is my fault,” your voice cracked. Green static danced across your skin, your demon form still out in full force. Sucking in a breath, you forced yourself to your feet. Sinking your inky hands into your hair, you paced the floor, your wings dragging behind you.

Alastor’s magic jumped off your form in sparks. Which was impossible but you didn’t have the mental room to even consider why.

Alastor had almost died! He could’ve died! Adam almost killed him!

“My doe,” Alastor attempted to sit up, but the pain from the wound was too much, his body demanding every ounce of power to heal.

“My fault,” you shuttered. “My fault. My fault. My fault!” You bent over the handrail and threw up.

Alastor jumped to his feet then, one hand wrapped around his middle to stop his insides from spilling out. “Mikaela!”

Using his cane for support, the demon forced himself to stand next to you. His red irises bled into your soul, his brow crinkled with worry.

Your entire body was shaking as he wrapped his arms around you. “It was not your fault.”

“We almost lost you,” you mumbled into his coat jacket, drenched in blood.

“We?”

____________________________________________

Somewhere Else in Hell…

“Ha, ha,” Striker plucked the cigar from his mouth and tapped the lit end into the cement lining of the roof.

The imp pulled the rifle to his shoulder and aligned the scope with his eye. “Too easy.”

And pulled the trigger.

____________________________________________

You saw the bullet before you heard it.

BANG!

The metal object soared towards you as if in slow motion, the iconic swirls of Angelic Steel clearly coating its surface.

But the bullet meant for you did not hit its mark.

For Alastor shoved you at the last moment, appearing between you and the shooter.

Red irises met yours, “Mourir d’amour, vivre de haine…”

The bullet met its mark right between Alastor’s eyes.

Dying for love…

“Nooo!”

The demon went down, his cane smacking against the metal balcony in an explosion of green sparks.

You spun, immediately knowing where the bullet originated from. You didn’t care who or what was on the other end. Fuck you didn’t even care why.

Kill, the voice echoed as a blast of dark ink shot out from your hand. Like a wave of a tsunami, the mass collided with the building the shooter was perched atop of, taking out the top twenty floors. You swung down, collapsing the building in on itself in one fell swoop.

Whoever it was - plus the inhabitants of the building - were dead.

“Alastor!” You screamed as you collapsed onto the ground next to him. Dark blood pooled beneath his head. The wound between his eyes steamed with green as his magic desperately fought to heal.

But fought in vein.

You watched as Alastor’s eyes fogged with the veil of death.

“No! No! No!”

And felt his Soul fade from his body.

“Alastor!”

You screamed. You begged. You cried.

“Don’t!”

You even heard yourself begging with God to let him live.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave me again!”

But you could do nothing as his Soul slipped from his body…

“No! Don’t! You can’t!”

… and faded from this world entirely.

“Don’t leave…”

Alastor was dead.

“Don’t leave us…”

____________________________________________

You don’t know how long you lay there.

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Years?

Long enough that Alastor had grown cold next to you. Long enough that the blood began to crust against your skin. Long enough that your joints hurt and your body begged to move.

He was gone.

Alastor was gone.

You curled into him, praying somehow your warmth might leech into him and warm his cold body back to life. Praying he’d brush a hand through your hair and tell you everything was going to be alright.

Praying this was just a dream.

Praying that you were the one dead instead.

Praying that you were both dead and this was some sick version of Purgatory Father had concocted for you as a punishment.

“Al…” You mumbled into his jacket, your fingers curling around his lapel as if he would fade beneath your touch entirely.

Too soon. Too fast.

And all your fault.

All your fault…

And then your fingers brushed something hard.

In his jacket, hidden away in a pocket you didn’t know he had, was a small leather box.

Fuck.

No. No. No. No. No.

Sitting up with alarm, you dropped it on the balcony and scooted away.

That better not be what you think it is.

Open it.

You jumped.

A young woman with hair as brown as mud and eyes to match sat across from you. Cross legged, arms folded neatly in her lap as her curls pooled down her back, the girl stared intently at the small leather box.

Open it, she repeated.

You didn’t respond, your mind was too preoccupied with trying to comprehend how this was happening.

It’s a ring, obviously, but you already knew that. You think that’s why he was so distracted today? She motioned to the blood. So distracted he didn’t even notice the fawn growing in your womb. How pathetic…

“Shut up!” You bit, your throat raw from years of crying.

Ouch. Is that anyway to greet an old friend? Oh, wait, sorry. Were we even friends? I mean, you did murder me and all. Did Alastor…

“I said, shut up, Eve!”

Her eyes found the box once more. Do you think he’s an emerald man or a diamond man? Emerald is more classic for the 30s but diamonds! Ugh, I’m just dying to know, aren’t you?

She went for the box, but you were faster. You held it against your heart, “Don’t touch it!”

Eve gasped, Is that why he asked you to take him to Louisiana to visit his Mother!? Awww, he stayed behind to tell his Mom about the ring. How sweet. Too bad she wasn’t actually there. - ya know, being in Heaven and all. But I suppose it’s the thought that counts.

“Why are you here?” The words seeped out from behind clenched teeth.

She smirked. Because you let me out.

You followed her eyes to your hand, still black from the ink. You never sealed the power away after desecrating the building.

Fuck, you were still in your demon form.

You’ve never let me out this long before. Figured it was time to stretch my legs and finally introduce myself. She stood and made her way to you, stretching her limbs as she went. Holding a hand out to you she made to help you stand.

Hello, I’m the Book of Knowledge, but you can call me Eve and we are going to have so much fun together.

You didn’t take her hand.

Your eyes found the dark jacket seeped in blood laying a few feet away.

You went to him, your fingers brushing the curls away from his face. With his eyes closed he looked as if he was sleeping - so peaceful.

Even in death Alastor smiled.

The girl frowned, clearly annoyed that you weren’t giving her your full undivided attention. What about power and chaos, and all that jazz? What about revenge!?

To power and chaos…

Your hand found your belly. “There is no power and chaos without him.” Pressing a kiss to his forehead. You whispered, “I love you, too.”

Wait, so that’s it? Eve threw her hands in the air. The plan is over? The big Endgame we’ve been planning for over one hundred years is just done!?

You stood, “New plan.”

New plan? Eve scrunched her nose. What new plan?

You smiled softly, the dark ink slowly invading your arm, “The one where everyone dies.”

Oh! Oh! Oh! I like that plan. Where do we start?

You turned to the pile of rubble 100 yards away. “Greed.”

*Yes, this is totally where Emily in Paris is shot lol

Annnnnnnd yet another cliff hanger. Come on guys you know me by now. Not everything is as it seems!

Hang in there :)

-> My Fawn & My Shadow: Epilogue

Tagged Hoteliers: (Let me know if you wish to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega

@missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demon @sillywormtrixareforkids

@its-a-dam-blue-brick @cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost

@beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah @diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta @reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto @freshonyourpages @chibistar45 @rapunzelbro

@stephydearestxo

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

What do I know about you? - Part 4

Previous Chapter Here!

Next Chapter (Under Construction): Here!

Where it all started! HERE!

Summary: Lullaby finds some common ground with the marine serving as Khopesh’s eyes and ears, and a slightly more positive perspective. Meanwhile Khopesh is facing very Un-Astarte like feelings and does Not enjoy it.

Tags: @felinisnoctis @barn-anon @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @bleedingichorhearts @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @passionofthesith @bispecsual

Authors Notes: Another collaboration with @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan and characters from @kit-williams and @sleepyfan-blog! If I've used one of your boys and forgot to mention it please tell me.

As the familiar sight of his neighborhood and specifically his Lullaby's home comes into view Khopesh feels…uneasy. 

There's no active danger. No charging enemy force or xenos threat, the landscape is as peaceful as he'd left it. 

So why does he feel like he needs to burst from his armor and Run with every step. His insides feel jumbled and conflicted and his hearts are racing. 

Get inside, get the items, get back to Lullaby. He repeats the mantra in his head over and over. Using it to stay focused. 

He's so focused on getting Into Lullaby's house and getting this Over with he nearly jumps when movement over to his left catches his attention.

“Khopesh? Is that you?” A salt and pepper head of hair popping up from behind one of the vehicles is what had triggered his reaction. Even if he'd never met this human personally he knows instantly who he is.

Lullaby takes a great deal after their father. The older man notices him and heads over to the Nightlord.

“Ah- there you are Khopesh,” Lullaby’s father says, looking him over. “I’m just heading out to see Lullaby.” He explains. 

Khopesh doesn't know how to respond. His body is still thrumming, and he really is Not in any mood for small talk. In fact talking feels like it would exhaust him even more than he already is. 

But Lullaby's father continues. He...Just…Keeps…T a l k i n g!

“They mentioned you'd be swinging by to grab a few things. I've got them packed up here so you wouldn't have to dig for em.” The man says gesturing to a box he has on his car. “Said they wanted their rabbit, their blanket and-”

(!) Something suddenly snapped in the Nightlord. (A small snap though, he wasn't going to harm his Lullaby's father.) “I Am Well Aware of what my Lullaby requested.” He cut the older human off with a sharp hand wave. “AND I would have been more than Capable of Digging, these items out.” Khopesh continued with a mild growl in his voice. 

“Your interference was unneeded, I will take it from here-” The Nightlord attempted to brush past the human male.

“What did you just say to me?”

Khopesh perked up at the shift in the man's tone. It had been awkward but friendly at first, now it sounded…much less so. 

Fine. “I said your Interference was unneeded.” Khopesh replied with a bitter edge to his voice. “I will be gathering and giving these items to My Partner. Your involvement otherwise would only be A Hindrance.”

A new expression settled over the human man's face, and Khopesh felt a strange new emotion twist inside, competing with his pent up frustration. 

It almost felt like…guilt. Maybe because that was the specific look Lullaby had given him when they'd told him to back off trying to prove something with the spicy ramen. 

Curze's sake they really Did look very much alike. Nature vs nurture who can say?

Khopesh was broken from his train of thought when the father before him spoke up. “Listen, you might be my child's ‘partner’ but that's just it. They were my child first young man!” Oh damn he'd seen this before, his Vada looked a lot like this when he got protective. And more guilt filled his gut with each passing word. “And I know when my child is lying to me.” He affirmed. “So don’t bullshit me! What’s going on with them?”

Khopesh pulls himself together for a moment from the disbelief. Is Lullaby's whole family so bizarrely fearless??

He pulls on his Nightlord intimidation and looms as he frowns down at the older baseline human. Most tend to be nervous around Space Marines- and a lot are openly fearful of Night Lords.

But apparently not in this Family??? The old man (who isn't quite as old as his Vada) squares his shoulders and meets Khopesh's gaze head on. He’s surprised that Lullaby’s father isn’t backing down. 

“I can do this All Day.” He huffs, crossing his arms. “So you might as well tell me sooner, rather than later.”

Caught out, flat footed, utterly exhausted and looking into the stone set gaze of a man who reminds him far too much of both his Vada and His Lullaby. 

Because he's Lullaby's vada, of course he reminds you of both. An inner voice replies.

And that's when Khopesh realizes… he…he actually Does want to tell him. I mean…he's literally half of what Created his Lullaby, raised his Lullaby, helped make them the person that Khopesh had grown to…care for so much. 

However, Khopesh knows that he can’t directly tell the man what is going on.

Partly because the man won’t understand what’s happening to them, and another because even He doesn't fully understand what's happening to them. 

Which is terrifying. 

He struggles for a moment before saying, “Lullaby is under the Care of Apothecary Hura, so they are safe.” His voice is more dampened, neutral, trying to keep a leash on just how unhappy he is about the situation, and the fact that his Father Anrir and Hura had basically stolen Lullaby from him. 

The human man notices the subtle souring of his expression, and the way the younger man’s hands clench and unclench.

Lullaby’s father arches an eyebrow at the young Nightlord , “Is there…. Anything about their situation that has worsened?” That is one of the most pressing concerns that he has.

“...” Khopesh is uncertain as to how to answer that question. There is so much that he doesn’t know and its starting to really bother him.

He’s… he feels so lost at this moment, and Khopesh takes in a slow deep breath as he pulls on his Bond- the urge, the need to check on his Vada and Muti. Safe- alive, happy, healthy. That soothes something deep in his hearts.

“You're just as much in the dark as we are I guess.” Khopesh turns to the man, and he sees a similar expression of worry. 

“You know…when that one first had their…fall.” He begins, swallowing as he seems to be mulling over the words. “It was the Worst feeling I had ever known. And I always wondered…if I'd been there. Or maybe if I'd stayed home that day. Maybe…maybe it wouldn't have happened.”

Khopesh listens. In all this happening and stress, he'd actually forgotten the Golden Bastard was a factor. The factor really. 

He'd kill him. Skin him. Force feed him his own intestines for this- 

“It was hard…going back to work. Not being able to help as much with their recovery. Of course I'll never be able to thank the Astarte therapists and doctors enough. And especially the ones who helped them that day they…They saved my b-bear…” The Baseline begins to choke up a bit. 

“But…as odd as it sounds. Having you around it…put my mind at ease.”

Khopesh perked up at that, but he was confused. 

“Now don't get me wrong when you First showed up I…won't deny I was pretty uncertain. But then you know what happened?” The man asks Khopesh with a slight mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Lullaby came home, raving about how you'd spooked them. At first they were annoyed. But the more they talked, I could tell they…didn't really mind you popping in from time to time.”

“Talking about how they sassed you. Or managed to not jump at your latest prank. Or even how Cute you looked helping Nancy and Gary or chasing the chickens or trying to handle the feed scoops.”

Khopesh snorted, Astartes shouldn't appreciate being called cute but…it was from his Lullaby so it was Different!

“And…knowing that you were always so close. Basically another set of eyes and one that was more a fixture in the neighborhood, it…helped me. Helped all of us feel…just a little bit safer. That if something bad, like another…fall, were to happen again. My bear bear wouldn't be left without help.” The man finishes, putting a hand on the Night Lords arm. “Thank you for that. Truly. I'm glad you came here and decided to stay.”

Khopesh feels his insides churn again. This time with a mix of sadness, guilt and warmth. Why'd he have to be such a fuckin prick before!? Lullaby's vada didn't deserve that! He decides to put those feelings aside so he can respond. “Thank you…I wish I could…do more.”

“You've done a lot. I know my Bear appreciates you.”

He's…he’s so fucking glad to hear that but F-fuck! Those fucking squirming feelings in his insides are flaring up again. He feels like he's about to…

No. No he can't do that here! He won't!

(!) Then he feels it. Another pull on his bond, a more insistent one this time. His head immediately swivels to his house. 

The Baseline human notes his attention shift. “What is it?”

“My Vada and Muti…I need to go check on them.” He states knowing this is undeniable. “But…Lullaby needs their comfort items I can't -!” He feels a bit like he's about to tear his hair out. 

“Go.” Khopesh turns to Lullaby's vada. The human Baseline encourages him. “I'll tell Bear you needed to check on your family. And you'll bring the box with you once you're done.” He states picking up the box of items from his car hood so he can hand them to Khopesh. “They'll understand.”

Khopesh looks at the box, then at Lullaby's vada. He's still clearly worried, but he's putting on a warm brave face. 

Yes, Lullaby wouldn't fault him for needing to take a family detour but…

Khopesh gently pushes the box back into Lullaby's vada's arms. 

They don't Need Him to be the one to deliver these items. “They should get these items as soon as possible.” Khopesh explains to remove the baselines confusion. “Go to them. Tell them I will be there as soon as I can and…Comfort them…while I cannot.”

Lullaby's Vada adjusts his hold on the box and smiles. “Alright. I will. My wife will be there soon too.”

The human man loads the box into his car and starts on his way down the road as Khopesh proceeds in the opposite direction. 

He picks up speed and vaults towards the source of his bond. And while he's still uncertain, he appreciates his Lullaby won't be alone for much longer. 

_____________________

Claude had sent the request to Anrir and Hura that he be able to speak with Lullaby, in part because access to them had become restricted due to the unknown and unrecorded nature of their bond and their potential for being a Psyker- one of the first recorded that they have heard of.

At least they are letting you see them.

The Medical-talk is confusing- see if Cedric understands their ramblings when you talk to him next time.

Hope you don’t fuck things up for Khopesh and Lullaby further.

Claude is allowed to visit them for a bit, and he’s going to be allowed to talk to them, just keep at least a five pace distance between himself and them. For the next test, he’s not allowed to touch them, for now to see if there is anything that happens or doesn’t happen. 

Quick! Say something nice.

At least Lullaby understands what it’s like to be a Cursed Wretch.

Like you are. A Cursed, wretched half broken tool.

Even the absence of something happens could give them new data, or at least another route to take. Or so Claude heard the older space marine mutter- him and Hura talking hypotheticals that make his head hurt.

Claude knocks on the door and hears Lullaby’s voice that bid him to enter, “Hello Lullaby,”

They look so tired.

Your little zap has caused SO much trouble!

What a mess you helped make!

He tries not to be nervous, and rubs his hands against his pants and looks over at them.

“Ah so…” You pose somewhat awkwardly. “You feel anything different happening?”

Claude shakes his head. “No…but I um…”

Your eyebrow raises curiously at the way Claude seems to be fumbling to get his words out. 

“I just…I wanted to let you know, that I know what it’s like to be cursed.” Claude means that very sympathetically. 

Uh…what? “What do you mean?” You ask, confused, frowning across the room at Claude a little.

Claude reminds you of the words you’d spoken earlier, and his earnest expression as he rubs his chest as he explains how he understands what it’s like to feel so wretched, so cursed, how, “And you feel like everything you touch gets corrupted or perverted. Or like you are a plague upon others- only meant to cause them harm.”

Hopefully Anrir and Hura will remember their limits as a baseline human.

I hope that they can learn to control their powers.

If A psyker cann’t control their powers. Their only use is to die.

You have a sudden realization, like a crashing wave, as you hear some of the words, thoughts and feelings that you'd had, reflected back at them from Claude. 

And however right it had felt in the moment to voice those negative thoughts they'd clearly sunk deeper into more than just yourself. 

“I…don't think it's healthy to be talking about yourself that way.” You say. 

Of course its not healthy.

You aren’t the most stable of Astartes.

I wonder how worried they’d be if they knew about the voices in your head.

Claude's brow furrows in confusion. “I don't understand.”

“Look, I know what I said earlier.” You explain shifting to fully face the young space marine. “I was angry and frustrated and…scared outta my mind that something I don't fully understand could end up hurting the people around me.”

“And while it's fine to be cautious, and to self-reflect, I went too far, letting my meanest inner voice speak. But you know what I'm starting to realize?”

Don’t listen to them!

They’re just a baseline- what do they know about the burdens of Astartes?

“What?” Claude asks tilting his head a little curious to what you are going to say next.

“That inner voice is full of horseshit.” You reply, cheekily. “And if your mean inner voice is telling you Anything like what mine tells me, I'd say it's pretty full of horse shit too.”

Claude doesn't seem fully convinced. “I'm not sure about that…”

You had a feeling Claude's…perspective on this had more history than just your recent outburst. 

Sure- they may have a potentially parasitic bond. 

At least it’s no where near as deadly as psykery can be.

They don’t understand just how dangerous the warp touched are. Not yet at least.

Guess that meant you had more threads to snip than just your own. 

“You remember what Anrir said, right? After I called myself a parasite?” You prompted. “It's a phrase I've heard before, and I stand by it. The most important part of Any tool is how it's used.”

“You, and I have Tools, that others don't. And sure we Could do bad things. A brick can smash a window, but that same brick can also help build a house.” You continue. “And if I'm going to be a parasite, then you better damn Bet that I'm gonna be a useful parasite. A parasite that helps.” You declare.

Claude actually cracks a smile. “Parasites can indeed be important to ecosystems.”

So long as they are not overeager.

So long as the parasites don’t take over the ecosystem.

“And so can your so-called ‘curses’.” You insist. “Without your powers we'd still be in the dark about mine.”

Claude seems surprised, before he mumbles a bit. “If I didn't have psychery you wouldn't be stuck here…”

“Maybe, but that also means I could've accidentally harmed Khopesh's bond without knowing, or zapped someone else who…would not have reacted as well to what's going on with me.” You counter. “As scary as this all is, I'm glad I'm in a place where people can help me. I wouldn't have that without your zap.”

Someone far worse and cruel could have zapped them.

Like a Chaos Astartes. That would have been so much worse.

The teal in Claude's eyes flares up for a moment. “Ah…I guess that is true.”

“I mean it Claude. I…I'm very grateful that you're helping me. And I'm glad You helped me discover this. Rather than something more…traumatic happening.”

Now you see a slight blush appear on the space marine's face. “Ah…you're welcome? I still feel a little bad though…for all This, happening…”

You grin wryly. “Tell you what? You can make it up to me.” 

Here comes the other shoe.

The catch twenty two, or so others on Ancient Terra call it.

I wonder what they want?

Claude perks up. “What is it? What can I do to help?”

“I'm only gonna ask one thing. And so I'm not a hypocrite, I'll agree to it as well.” You say. “I don't want you calling yourself cursed, or a blight, or Any of that negative self talk around your powers. And as long as you do. I'll do the same. Deal?”

Claude flushes, his nose and ears and cheeks going bright pink, “I…I will try not to say that about myself, so long as you do, Lullaby.”

You nod approvingly. “Good. Then it's settled. By the way, is the touch timer up?” You ask, genuinely curious but also for another reason. 

Claude thinks to himself for a moment. “I think it has been long enough.”

You shrugged. “Good.” You hopped off the hospital bed, and strode towards Claude. Before the Primaris could question your actions you opened up your arms, lifting them. “You okay with a hug or should I pretend I meant to just stretch my arms…save us the awkwardness?”

Well Claude hadn't been expecting that but…hugs Were nice. Plus if it made Lullaby more comfortable with their situation it would fall under the category of caring for them while Khopesh was unable. 

“I…am amenable to that.” Claude replied, he leaned down. 

Claude, though firmly introverted, had received Some physical affection in his troubled lifetime. Mostly as an aspirant from his close battle brothers. And ironically with his Primaris brother's busy schedules these days he received quite a bit from Khopesh and the other Night Lords. 

Anrir was a good shoulder to lean on. Karlsor would allow it if he was psychery drained though he pretended not to enjoy it. Khopesh naturally enjoyed spooking him with a sudden grab out of nowhere, sometimes lifting him up for a moment. Which was annoying, but the embrace itself wasn't Terrible and the hair ruffling that followed was…a bit childish but not unwelcome. Ghosk would also hair ruffle from time to time. 

But admittedly…being hugged by a Baseline was Far different. He thought, as Lullaby's much smaller body fit into his. And he was careful not to exert too much force. 

For one they were Warm! Very Warm! Almost too much so. And despite picking up the scent of the sterile hospital environment there was a well set scent underneath that reminded him of soil baked under the sun and animals. 

He could always hear their heartbeat, but he also felt it now. And he felt them squeeze him firmly with their much weaker arms. It was a combination of soothing sensations Claude could easily see himself falling asleep to. 

No wonder Khopesh called them Lullaby. 

They pulled back after the firm but brief embrace. And naturally Claude allowed them. He did miss the warmth a bit. Maybe it was a Nightlord or Raven (or Teal) thing to run colder. He didn't notice large temperature differences with most other Astartes of those kinds. 

Knock knock knock 

The knock at the door behind you caused both of you to turn your heads. 

“Who is it?” You ask. 

“It's Apothecary Hura dear. May I come in? We've received your items and some guests are here to see you.” 

Your heart leaps into your throat. Is Khopesh back? Will you get to see him now? You feel excitement mixed with churning anxiety rocket up your body for a moment. 

But wait guest(s)? Plural? “Ah please come on in!” You say hurriedly and naturally the Death Guard on the other side opens the door. 

Instead of a 8 to 9ft tall pale ghoulishly handsome Nightlord…your heart leaps again to see two Very familiar faces standing beside Hura with a box. 

“MOM! DAD!” You bolt to your parents without thinking.

“Lullybird!” “Bear bear!” They respond almost in unison. Your dad holds out the box to you. 

“I ran into that ‘friend’ you'd sent to get these things.” He winks cheekily at you which causes you to blush. “He had to go check on Nancy and Gary, so he sent me on my way so you could have these sooner.”

“Your father told me, your ‘friend’ would also be along later, after he made sure Nancy and Gary were alright.” Your mother supplied. 

Oh…well, while you were disappointed you wouldn't be able to see Khopesh for a bit longer, you couldn't blame him for needing to check on his folks. 

I mean how could you? Right now you had your own parents in front of you (talking about knowing your special ‘friend’. Wait does that mean they know you and Khopesh are- You know what you're not gonna think about that right now.) and wanted to hug them so tight and Never let go. Speaking of which…

You take the box properly but quickly set it aside, before snagging both your parents into an embrace, one arm each. “I'm…I'm so happy to see you both you have N-no Idea!” You felt like crying. You felt like laughing. But you settled on sniffling a bit and hugging your loved ones close. 

“Oh Lullybird.” Your mother cooed, wrapping her own arms around you, returning your firm embrace. 

“We're here now Bear,” You father reassured, stroking your back like he'd done when he soothed you as a baby. 

Meanwhile Claude and Hura watch the tender scene. Hura feels both content satisfaction and a bit of longing. He could imagine a similar scene playing out with his Mouse if they could ever produce offspring…unlikely as that is to be possible with his chaos genes. 

Claude also feels happy. Glad to see Lullaby looking happier than they had been. (And also secretly a Little jealous that he'd not had a normal family experience.)

You do pull back eventually and ask, “How much have Hura and Anrir filled you in?”

Your mother and father exchange a look. “Apothecary Hura explained the basics once we were out of the main areas. Something about a mutated bond?” Your mother replies. 

You nodded. “Yeah…something's changed about it. The Astartes here want to make sure the change isn't harmful.” You add, then turn back towards Claude. “Claude here's the one who found out about it. Without him it might've gone on and caused problems later.” You say, gesturing to the Primaris in the room behind you. 

Claude feels an embarrassed blush creep up his face at being put on the spot. “Ah it was r-really more of an accident.”

Lullaby's mother approaches him, “Accident or not you helped our baby. Thank you so…So much young man.” She gestures for him to lower his face and she gives him a quick motherly smooch on the cheek. 

Lullaby's father approaches next. “My wife is correct. You've done us a great service son. You have no idea how much we owe you.” The gentleman holds out his hand and though Claude is still surprised from the cheek kiss, he remembers this time to hold out his own hand. 

So it's still surprising when the older baseline pulls him (more like pulls himself towards Claude but still) into a quick one armed hug while also still doing the handshake and Holy Stars Lullaby's father runs even hotter than they do. 

His hand is starting to sweat, and he Is getting a bit overwhelmed but thankfully the contact is short. 

He now understands where Lullaby gets it from. But pushing that aside the family continues to talk. 

“So what comes next?”

“Apothecary Anrir and Hura are testing me…testing It rather. Seeing how it works.” You explain. “They haven't found anything super harmful about it…yet. What comes next depends on their best ideas on where to go.”

“Indeed.” An old regal voice agrees, you see Claude perk up out of your peripheral vision and You recognize it too. Anrir steps through the threshold, How had you not noticed him behind Hura?? 

He addresses your parents. “Greetings, I am Apothecary Anrir, of the Nightlords.”

Your parents react…a little less warmly to Anrir then they did to Claude. But they do respond Politely at least. “Ah hello.” “Hello sir.”

“Your dear child is correct. This…phenomenon is the first of its kind any of us have witnessed.” Anrir continues. “Their bond, went through the normal path of withering and desiccation after it was…rejected.” Anrir explained, and seemed to feel the discomfort slightly spike in the room when referring to your…bond breaking. “It was simply doing so at a much slower rate than normal, however, Now it has taken on a completely new form. And with new side effects.”

“What are the side effects?” Your mother asks. 

Anrir pauses, seemingly thinking over his next words. But rather than an explanation, he puts forth an offer. “I believe a demonstration would be most appropriate to explain the Nature of this mutation. If you would all follow me.”

Hura seems confused by Anrir's actions and stops the Nightlord. They have an exchange in Gothic. Hura seems upset for a moment, but after a few back and forth retorts he sighs…Heavily, and steps to the side. 

You stay where you are. “What do you mean a demonstration?” You pry, preferring not to be led by the nose. Even by someone who Is and Has been helping you. 

Anrir smiles. “You said you wanted to be a Useful Parasite did you not? A parasite that helps?” He presents your own words back at you. 

I mean are you really surprised the solitary room has surveillance? They'd have to be watching and listening for that to work but you still feel embarrassed. 

Anrir continues. “I believe an opportunity has presented itself so that we may see if that is possible. Of course your parents and Claude may accompany you, just not Inside the testing room.”

You feel even more in the lurch, but… “You think…I can help someone. Right now?” You ask, half incredulous, half hopeful. 

Anrir nods. “Indeed I do but of course…as a medical professional I can only present Options, I cannot Force you to undergo any tests.”

Your parents look to you for your reaction. You have a feeling with Anrir that line about force is just Slightly bullshit. But…you also Do want to help. You want to Understand. 

You want to be useful. 

You square your shoulders, and stride up to Anrir. “Show me how I can help.”

The Nightlord smiles in a way that you think is meant to be reassuring but comes off unsettling…or maybe that's your nerves distorting your view. 

“Excellent, now without further delay.” He responds, giving a slightly smug look towards Hura. “If you would all follow me.”

_____________________

Slam! The door to the house shook as Khopesh bolted inside, much like earlier. 

Though instead of delight and excitement he was filled with dread and anticipation.

He scanned his eyes around as if he was scoping a battle ground quickly; side door, living room, step over barking chihuahuas, kitchen, Muti shuffling through mail…

“MUTI!” Khopesh called out, a bit louder than he intended which caused his Muti to startle a bit. 

“Oh hey Baby what's-EEP!” The older southern woman didn't have time to finish her statement as Khopesh crossed the distance in a second. Quickly checking her for any injuries with eyes and hands like he would an ally in battle. 

But...Nothing, nothing was wrong. He came here for Nothing! Khopesh felt his hands come up and clench into his long dark hair. 

It wasn't nothing you felt your bond react. It could have waited till after you checked on Lullaby. Lullaby has Their vada and muti by now they don't Need you. Is Lullaby suddenly more important than your bond? You can love both! THEY'LL BE TAKEN AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAU-

“Baby?” Khopesh breaks from his spiraling, when his Muti puts a soft hand on his face. He realizes his long nails were digging into his scalp hard enough that it probably left some shallow cuts. 

He looks into his Muti's eyes. He sees her warmth, the love he'd been denied all his existence, finally willingly given which is what led him to stay in the first place. “What's wrong? You know you can tell me baby.”

After everything…the pain…the stress…the uncertainty…he couldn't hold it anymore. 

Khopesh breaks.

The proud, frightening, cocky, self assured shock trooper of the imperium collapses to his knees, wrapping his arms around the mortal woman's waist and Weeps. 

“Ooooh, com'ere sweetie,” Nancy cooed, still confused but easily switching into comfort mode. Her large adopted son was Clearly dealing with something he had no idea how to cope with. Which is somewhat concerning, given how capable her Khopesh is normally. But she'd weather it with him regardless. “Let it all out baby.” She gently strokes his hair to his back as Khopesh continues to sob. 

“There there, do you wanna talk about it?”

Khopesh sniffs and hiccups, shaking his head as he continues to cry into Nancy's shoulder. “I-I c-can't! I can't tell you!”

Before Nancy can ask why Khopesh continues. “Nothing is going the way it should be! Why is everything going wrong!”

“Can you…explain what's going wrong?” Nancy asks tentatively. 

Khopesh's head shakes again. “I…I can't tell you…everything in detail.”

“Then tell me what you can, my son,” Nancy says gently petting her son’s hair, holding him close to her as he sobs and breaks down.

And so Khopesh does; carefully omitting the full nature of the classified information. He tells his Muti about how Lullaby and him had Finally gotten together. 

“About time. I was worried I'd lose the bet.” His mother chuckled as his tremors and sobbing eased. 

He told her about how they'd spent the day and Night together (not in detail thank God), how they'd shared their first meal together, how everything felt so…So Good. 

And then how it all came crashing down. “Now they have to stay at the base. I cannot Touch them. I cannot Comfort them. I'm…” And that's when it hits, the full realization of the fear that's been eating him alive. “I'm terrified they'll be taken from me and I'll never see them Again!”

Just like psychers had been in his days serving the imperium. 

That bleak set of memories was interrupted by his muti gently brushing her fingers through his hair. He turned his gaze to the mortal woman who held so much of his heart. While another piece of it sat where he couldn't reach it. 

“Life is never just an easy ride down the hill. And that's especially true when you love somethin or someone a whole heck of a lot.” Nancy exposits gently. “But as long as you both take care of each other, you can weather any storm that comes,” Nancy says after listening to what he says.

Khopesh understands what his Muti is saying. He hopes she can give him more clarity on other things too. He wipes his face free of tears and asks, “How did you and Vada meet, Muti?”

Nancy smiles, as she recalls when she first met her husband, “Well I first met him when we were both at college.”

“I remember how fiery you were,” His Vada suddenly walks into the kitchen chiming in. He must have overheard their conversation and was letting them work through some of it before joining. “The sass you had!”

“Oh- like you didn’t give as good as you got, Mister!” Nancy retorts, a faux-stern look on her face.

“I remember, when we lived in separate apartments, on the same floor.” His Vada says, “And you started cooking your Pot Roast- god, everyone on the floor could smell how good it was. So I wiped up a batch of quick-biscuits and knocked on your door, a hot plate of biscuits in hand, and hope in my heart.”

“Ah- I remember that,” Nancy replied fondly, pressing a kiss to her husband’s face. “And we kept trading food. I remember that smoked pork you gave me half a pound of it.”

“And you turned it into hot bagel sandwiches and gave me the tupperware container back with the bagel sandwich,” His vada replies with a dreamy sigh, “Gods, I kept trying to get better at cooking to share with you, just to see how you’d turn it into something better and we’d share the food together.”

Khopesh marvels at the sweetness before him, but part of him is also confused. “Wait…so neither of you promised the other protection or shelter in exchange for company?”

Both his Vada and Muti give him a quite confused look. “Ah…no son. Can't say I ever did that.” Gary replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I Did give you my umbrella that one time you were running late for class I think. Whatever happened to it by the way?”

“Oooh ah…when the rain stopped I think I…accidentally left it inside one of the classrooms.” Nancy replied sheepishly. 

“Nanc!” Gary gasps with mock disbelief. 

“I wasn't used to carrying one around! Gar gar!”

Khopesh looks on the scene and feels a…bit better- that he hasn’t made any major missteps that would fuck up his chances with Lullaby. And he relaxes a little. He had listened to the stories that his parents had shared about their life together- and how they had built it together. It makes him feel… warm. Soft? In a way that he struggles to identify. It wasn’t a bad feeling though. Just- warm all over.

And he is firm in his conviction now. He wants to share that warmth with his Lullaby. Khopesh gives his Vada and Muti a hug, “I’m going to return later.”

“We’ll be here,” They both say giving him hugs, one pressing a kiss on each side of his face.

_____________________

Anrir, with a still hesitant looking Hura following after, moves smoothly along the hallway. Followed by you, your parents, and Claude. Claude looks at you with a concerned, and confused expression on his face as he follows after them, curious to see what the next test was, and he hadn’t been told he couldn’t watch. Not by the Apothecaries, nor by you.

Claude’s head snaps up and he shifts you and your parents behind him protectively, as he hears the sound of a thrashing, howling marine in agony. You clamber to see what's causing the noise and gasp when your peeking around Claude’s large form reveals a familiar marine beyond the glass of an operating room. 

He's even still dressed in the smart dark green uniform you'd seen him in not 24 hours ago. 

“Dear God,” Your mother mumbles in horror. “What on earth?” Your father says in a similar tone. 

“Pyrus?” You murmur confused, “but just hours ago, he was Fine!?”

“What’s wrong with him?” Claude asks in alarm.

Anrir turns to look at them, a neutral- yet expectant look on his face as he explains the situation, “Pyrus was struck by an Intense bond.”

“Oh no,” Claude murmurs with a wince, those bonds can drive a Brother or cousin mad if they aren’t careful.

“The human Rejected him,” Hura continues to say as he heads over to the window of the suffering Salamander, who keeps sobbing, and writhing in the bed. Trapped and blubbering in a mixture of High Gothic and Nocturna.

“This could kill him, if something isn’t done about it,” Claude says, teal and black eyes wide with concern. He doesn’t want his friend to suffer a horrific death. “Or something worse.”

“Normally,” Anrir says, “We would have to wait out and hope that the bond breaking isn't strong enough to strangle the life out of Pyrus- and bleed his soul into… the afterlife.”

“It is not the most common thing, normally the way an intense bond kills is the spiritual strangling causing the marine to act erratic and eventually injure themselves fatally. But sometimes the bond itself back firing is enough to kill.” Hura explains as he moves, giving you a less obstructed view. 

Even Pyrus's head and jaw is restrained, probably to keep him from biting his own tongue. The sight and thought makes you nauseous. 

“But…with the odd mutation You have my dear, You might be able to help Pyrus,” Anrir says looking towards you with a curious, expectant expression on his face, “Of course- it’s your choice on what you decide you want to do.”

You look at the suffering marine again, but your mind is already made, despite your parents unsure muttering. “It's worth a shot.” You say, simple but firm. Poor Pyrus- he’s clearly in a lot of pain, and you wanted a way to help. 

“Are you Sure Lullybird?” Your mother asks. Always the more overprotective of your two parents. 

You turn to her and give a small smile. “I want to understand this…part of me. And I want to help.” You nodded. 

“There will also be three Astartes in the room supervising; Myself, Apothecary Hura and Karlsor.”

You father nods. “Alright…but If you let my child get hurt…” 

Anrir isn't offended, he smiles as he replies. “I know Exactly what you would try to do to me. I would do the same.”

“Oh hohoho there will be no Try,” Your mother assures. “We Will, make it happen.”

Your smile turns wry. “I'd believe her if I were you, Doc.”

While you and Anrir discuss how the entry and application of your abilities will work, a message comes to Claude's vox. The young marine glances down.

“What is it?” Hura asks in Gothic.

Claude responds in the same, understanding the unspoken request. “It's Khopesh, he's just returned.”

“I’m going to speak with Khopesh,” Hura says still in Gothic as he leaves the room, he doesn’t approve of using a Baseline for something so potentially dangerous.

Besides, with so many unknowns with what they don’t know about what Lullaby can do, it worries him that this could go poorly. Hura finds Khopesh, who looked a little more steady when he’d last talked to the younger Space Marine.

“Khopesh,” He calls out, “I need to speak with you privately.”

“Of course, Hura,” Khopesh says. “What’s going on?”

After they get somewhere private Hura explains, “Lullaby is being led to a room with an Astarte who’s Intense Bond was recently Rejected.”

“You mean a dangerous Astarte,” Khopesh amends, he’s somewhat appalled that Hura is telling him this -that he’s allowing this. “What if the Astarte hurts them!?”

“I didn’t want to do this test,” Hura says, “But Anrir insisted that we ask Lullaby if they were willing to help or not.”

“And they wanted to help,” Khopesh says, slumping a little.

“Yes.” Hura replies.

“Which room is my Lullaby in?” Khopesh asks of Hura, a scowl on his face.

Hura pauses, but tells him which room Pyrus is in. He sent a message to Anrir- who sent a message to Cedric. Khopesh is close to the room, when Cedric blocks him, as Hura, Anrir, Karlsor and Lullaby have just entered the room with Pyrus. 

“Khopesh!” Your parents seem surprised to see the Nightlord suddenly appear. 

And to see him look so furious and determined.

“Wait,” Cedric calls out to Khopesh and body blocks him from the door, “the treatment has started- and it might not be a good idea for you to go into the room until Karlsor and Anrir or Hura say it’s safe for you to go into it.”

“It will not be safe for Any of you, (except my Lullaby's family and Claude), if you do not Let Me Through!” Khopesh snarls. “If Lullaby wants to do this, Fine. But I will not take being unable to help them lying down!”

“I'm under orders to not let Anyone else into the room. If I have to, I Will sedate you!” Cedric replies. “You're helping more being out Here as an extra line of defense.”

While Cedric deals with a very protective Nightlord, you (unaware of Khopesh's return) stare down at the thrashing Marine- he looks to be in a lot of pain, you…don’t know what to do. 

You turn to Anrir who is also having Karlsor prepare for a warp examination of what’s going on. 

“Do I just…touch him- Ah!” You ask them to recoil as another fit of thrashing occurs. 

Hura tries to stabilize the movements, while Anrir responds. “Just do Exactly what you've done before.” He says, he then puts a hand on your shoulder again. “And remember, We are With You.” 

Looking into those dark eyes you actually feel comforted. So you take a deep breath, square your shoulders, and step to the table again. You decide Pyrus's shoulder or arm would be a good option. Hand holding could get your fingers crushed, and the face could get them bitten off. 

Gently, as the downed marine huffs quick pained breaths with large tear tracks still marking his face, you lay your hands on Pyrus's huge bare forearm and try to get him to talk. 

“Woah, there big fella it's…it's okay. It's going to be okay. Woah now….” Okay you're talking to him like you would a horse, but he seems to be hearing you. 

Meanwhile Karlsor watches the way the mycelium tendrils start to curl onto Pyrus. Just like with Hura they beeline for the vines, and start to sap at the ragged edge of the broken Intense bond. Pyrus is still overwhelmed and in pain. He looks up at you and chokes out in the local language, “I… am sorry that you have to see me like this.”

You take a moment to respond. “You shouldn't feel ashamed of something that isn’t your fault.”

Pyrus responds, shaking his head a little, as tears fall down his face, “but it was though.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep him talking but also legitimately curious. 

“I was too abrupt, too brash.” Pyrus replies, his voice breaking a little, as tears fall freely down his face, as he whispers in shame, “I chased my potential bond away, this pain must be my punishment.”

You didn't agree. “Being rejected…it hurts. But it does Not mean you were too bad…or even too Good. It just Is.” You object, shaking your head a little as you take in a deep breath and continue to speak, “I don't know why your bonded did what they did but…I know that it doesn't mean You are any lesser. And I Know for a fact no one deserves to go through this.”

As they speak these words, Pyrus seems to calm down, and the agonizing, soul deep pain that is tearing him apart slowly eases. The words that you have spoken, ring something strong and deep within both of you.

Karlsor watches as the strangling vines and thorns that were carving into Pyrus and having his soul bleed and suffocate were slowly shrinking and withering, releasing their grasp on Pyrus until they resemble a more normal broken bond.

As that happens, he sees that Lullaby's mutated bond in turn grows a little brighter with the addition of the power it just absorbed. 

You still can't see Any of this happening but you Do notice a sudden uptick in your energy; like getting a direct injection of caffeine. Are your hands trembling? You're pretty sure they're trembling.  

Anrir calls out, “Lullaby, please back away from Pyrus- so I can examine him.”

You nod and step back. You feel- really good. You'd been tired and kinda numb before, but now you feel like you can do almost anything! Anrir checks over and Pyrus tells him, “Your vitals are back to normal. How do you feel?”

Pyrus pauses and takes stock of himself and licks his lips and, “I still feel emotionally drained but no longer in agony.”

“That’s a lot better than you were before,” Anrir says pleased.

“Yes! That's amazing!” You cheer, pumping your fist like you just won a war! 

Anrir turns to look at them, eyeing them carefully and asks them, “How do you feel?”

“I feel…pretty fricken awesome! I mean!! I just helped save somebody's life! Also I feel like running, or dancing to music or just going outside and doing cartwheels on the lawn Also can somebody stop my hands from shaking, cause they're Really shaking-”, You take in a deep breath and closes their eyes as you take stock of yourself and say with a note surprise, “I also feel…good. Hopeful. I think what I'm feeling is Hopeful. That's good right?” You ask, mostly joking.

Anrir nods. “That is most certainly a Good thing.” You smile. 

Before the room can settle into full content, there's a knock on the door. Hura peaks out and a pleased expression appears on his face as he calls out, “Pyrus? You have a visitor.”

“Oh? Let them in,” Pyrus says as he shifts a little in the med bed, unfortunately, still tied down as he looks at the door to see who it was. His eyes widen as he recognizes the human who’s in the doorway looking painfully self conscious.

“Ah…hello,” They address those in the room they hadn't met including you. “My name is Saytr. I…called emergency services when Pyrus collapsed.”

Wait does that mean this human was. Oh…Oooooh…

Saytr turns more fully to Pyrus and addresses him. “I…wanted to say…I'm sorry. I got scared. When you first approached me for a-a Bond.”

Pyrus winces and looks down and away from them at that, he hadn’t meant to scare them like that. Satyr speaks up again, “I've been thinking over my decision. And- when I saw that you collapsed. You looked so- badly hurt. I…. I realized that I’d let my fear make the decision for me.”

Pyrus peers up at them, his ember red eyes sparkling with fragile hope and caution at the same time. Satyr comes into the room and paces a little bit as they take in a deep breath and says, “I … want to get to know you Pyrus… maybe just save what was essentially a marriage proposal for after we get to know each other, yeah?”

Pyrus gives them a big, bright smile and nods, “I can do that. I really do want to get to know you.”

Karlsor can’t help but groan a little as blood trickles down his nose and eyes. He’s got a massive fucking headache. As he’s been using Warp Sight for far too often. Also this sappy fucking bull shit is making him want to throw up.

Anrir turns to his fellow Night Lord, “Karlsor- look at the two newly Bonded, well, Rebonded.”

“I’m really fucking tired, Anrir!” Karlsor snaps, “And bleeding, and headachy.”

“Do it,” Anrir orders, his voice deepening.

“Fucking- fine,” Karlsor hisses, and switches on his Sight and sways dangerously, as he leans against a the far wall. “The bond has come back- all glowing with sparking plant life and fewer thorns.”

Wait a minute. “Karlsor! Say that again.” You demand striding up to the Nightlord with the bleeding nose. 

He looks at you incredulously as he's leaned down due to exhaustion. “The bond looks all flowery and shit?”

You feel yourself buzzing! “Do you know what this means!?” You ask excitedly, and impulsively grabbing Karlsor's face with both hands. (Which he surprisingly doesn't bite you for but maybe he's just too taken aback you're being bold enough to grab his face.) “It means even if I Can sap a Bond, it can come back! I don’t have to worry about hurting the Bond that Khopesh already has with his Vada and Muti! I can actually Touch him!” You release Karlsor's face and immediately snag him in a hug around the waist. 

“H-hey! QUIT It Would ya-” Who is still on the back foot, and not sure how to handle your burst of energy. 

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you! I gotta go find Khopesh!” You declare, releasing a still Very confused Karlsor. “Hang on sweetness! I'm comin for ya!” You charge out the door like a soldier on a mission from God!

You bolt out the door and start sprinting down the hallway, firmly intending to run! Run! Run! Run! RUN! AND FIND YOUR KHOPE-OOf!

You almost fall ass over teakettle as a firm forearm? Came into your path, and damn near knocked the wind out of you. You see the pale color with blue viens and immediately assume it's Claude. 

“Claude lemme go! I gotta go find Khopesh and tell him everything's alright!”

“Um…Lullaby?” You whip your head around at the familiar voice…that Wasn't Claude. 

Long dark hair? Check. 

Scar across the mouth? Check 

Mirthful (if a bit tired and unsure) twinkling dark eyes?

Check!

“Khopesh!” You crow joyfully, shifting so you can pull your Nightlord into a tight embrace. 

“Oh! Lullaby! My Lullaby!” He returns full of relief and delight and you feel your own delight skyrocket when he pulls you close and you feel his roaring purrs start up. 

You nuzzle and snuggle and press quick sweet kisses to the side of Khopesh's face and his lips in between saying,“I missed you! I missed you So Much!” 

You put your hands to the sides of Khopesh's face as he lifts you, holding you up around the waist. “My bond isn't dangerous! I can touch you! I can touch you!” You cry out with joy. Then another realization, with your voice momentarily taking on a Slight sultry edge. “And I can Love you up…as much as you want me to…”

Khopesh's beautiful face takes on a blush that makes your heart Melt. But he also looks a biiiit embarrassed. 

And you realize why when you look past Khopesh's head…and see your parents and Claude looking at your and Khopesh's -ahem- Affectionate exchange. 

Well if they didn't know already, they sure do now…shit. 

“Oh ah…Hi mom…dad.” You greet your parents. “So ah…the test went…pretty well.” Khopesh gently sets you down, but keeps an arm around you.

You understand. You don't want to lessen the contact between the two of you right now. You have your arm resting on his lower back.

“So…you two Really are?” Your mother poses, and you feel a small amount of traitorous Shame creeping into your gut. 

But after Everything you've been through, you are Not letting Khopesh slip away. “I'm happy mom. He makes me happy.” You affirm, looking into Khopesh's dark eyes, before meeting your parents' gaze. 

Your father seems to be waiting on your mother's response, he wraps his arm around her shoulders. 

She sighs, and leans into your father's touch, before opening her eyes again. 

“Alright.” She finally says. 

“Alright?”

“Alright.” She nods. “If he makes you happy, and treats you well…I have nothing to say.”

“...Mom!” You cry with happiness reaching out and leaving Khopesh for just a moment. So you can hug your parents tightly. 

Khopesh misses your touch, but he can be patient; especially for this. 

“But if he hurts you I will Kill him, and dump his body in the fields.” Your mother adds. 

“Mom!” You reply, with only half shock. 

“You'd better trust her Bear.” Your dad replies with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Oh trust me I do.” You assure your father, before returning to Khopesh's embrace. 

Claude watches the tender moment between all four of you with a smile, as Anrir, Hura and Karlsor exit the testing room. 

“Oh fuckin Greeeeeat, they're back together.” Karlsor grouses, as he adjusts his shades. 

A look of confusion passes over Claude's face. “Are you not glad we achieved a decent outcome?” He asks the older Nightlord. 

Karlsor groans. “Tch, yeah sure I'm fuckin glad or whatever. Woo-hoo everybody's happy and in fuckin Love! But do they have to be so fuckin saccharine about it??”

Claude smiles awkwardly. “Oh I don't know, I find it rather cute.”

Karlsor looks back at the happy little family and his lovesick battle brother. “Yeah…whatever, at least my headache's fuckin died down.”

“Language, Karlsor.”

“Ack!” Karlsor yelped as Anrir suddenly  joined the conversation him, and Claude were having. “Fuckin! … I'm not gonna finish that sentence.” Karlsor decides as Anrir gives him a Look. 

Anrir strides to You and your family. You note how Khopesh's arm becomes just Slightly tighter upon seeing the Nightlord Apothecary. 

“Anrir,” Khopesh says, not full of vitriol this time but…not entirely friendly either. 

Anrir acknowledges his son. “Khopesh…I am glad to see you have returned.”

Khopesh's grip doesn't lessen. “My Lullaby has told me their bond is not dangerous.”

“Not Quite.” Anrir responds. “But at this time it doesn't appear to pose a permanent threat to any bonds.” Anrir clarifies. “However…”

You suck in a breath, gripping Khopesh back. 

“I believe this phenomenon will require further study. In fact, I believe Lullaby may be able to learn to Harness this ability, so they can control it. Rather than simply using it passively through touch.” Anrir explains. 

Well…that doesn't sound too bad. But Khopesh doesn't relax. 

“And this control…how will they be taught to achieve it?” He asks, tamping down on a growl in his throat. 

Anrir straightens his posture. “As any psychery inclined battle brother would be.” He says. “They will be monitored and trained by limited and trusted individuals Here at Gannett Point.”

“Oh, OoOoh!” Khopesh lets out a sigh of Intense relief. You finally feel his posture relax. “That…that makes sense…”

Anrir raises an eyebrow. “Khopesh…did you think I would send them…elsewhere?”

The Nightlord holding you bites his lip, but doesn't respond. 

“Khopesh,” Anrir half laughs in disbelief, before swapping to Nostraman. “Where in the stars would I send them?? We don't exactly have an imperium of training worlds to choose from.”

“Ah…right. I just…I remembered how it was when psychers were found…in my time…” Khopesh replies, sheepish in Nostraman. “But they will be Here. They can stay Here?”.

“They will need to stay here.” Anrir confirms, swapping back to the local language so you and your parents can understand. “At Minimum for tonight as I want to monitor their status after the test.”

“I mean…I'm fine staying the night, but my job and my mom need me. I can't just up and leave.” You protest slightly. 

Anrir does pause at that, seemingly thinking it over. His eyes glance back at Hura, who is also listening to the conversation. “You'll no doubt need training. We will work out an arrangement at a later time so you may help your family.” He states. “As for your job, as a participant of a scientific study you can be compensated. This way we can counteract any reduction in hours or extra travel you undertake.”

“Naturally, we would prefer your lodging to be at the base, but if you'd prefer commuting we can accommodate.” Anrir acquiesced. “If you are to ever change your mind we can set you up with a room.”

“You could stay in mine!” Khopesh cooes excitedly. 

While a permanent bunk was a bit of a step, you couldn't deny the thought of sharing a bed with Khopesh again was enticing. 

Especially with how tired and lonely and drained this whole roller coaster of events had left you. 

“Right now…resting next to you sounds like the Best compensation for…everything…” You agree, leaning on your precious Nightlord. 

Anrir chimes in. “I'm afraid I'll have to insist you stay in the observation room. We must be able to monitor you for any changes.” 

“Aw really?” Khopesh groans with disappointment. 

Anrir held up a hand. “You may share the space. Provided there are no objections.”

“The space won't be too bright for you will it?” You ask Khopesh. 

“My darling, I would brave a solar flare for you!” Khopesh declared with a dramatic flare that made you giggle. “Besides…the hospital rooms can be dimmed, you know this don't you Lullaby?”

Now it was your turn to look embarrassed. “Ah…now I do?”

“Pftt-Hahahahaha!” Khopesh let out his trademark cackle. You honestly didn't think you'd ever thought it sounded sweeter. 

You brought your hand up, gently placing it on the side of his face. “Let's go to bed Khopesh. I want to hold you.”

You feel the purring come again, Khopesh nuzzles into your hand. “Of course, my Lullaby…let us retire for the evening.” He agreed, pointedly ignoring Karlsor making a blech face in his peripheral.

“Sounds like you two have everything planned out.” Your mother chimes in.

“Don't forget, if you need us we're just a call away.” Your father reminds you. 

“I know. Thank you guys so So much.” You say, feeling tears starting to well up. You bring your parents into another embrace. 

“I love you both…I'll be home as soon as I'm able.” You promise, giving both your parents a kiss on the cheek. 

Your folks then turn to Khopesh. “I meant what I said.” Your mother vows. 

“Hey! Just take good care of our Bear bear, and you've got nothing to worry about.” Your father jokes as well. 

Khopesh brings himself to attention. “I vowed the same to my Vada and Muti. You have my word.” He swore. “I will protect them with all my life, and soul.”

Your parents nod, and with another round of goodbyes and I love yous, they are escorted by Apothecary Hura back to the entrance. Meanwhile, you, Khopesh, Anrir and Claude make your way back to the observation room. 

As you come to the room, you turn back to Claude. “Thanks again for all you've done Claude.”

The short haired primaris blushes, a little less than before. “Ah well…I was just trying to do right by Khopesh.”

“And you did so in Spades, little brother!” Khopesh cheers, slapping his brother on the shoulder. 

“Indeed,” Anrir agrees. “You should be proud Claude, you have been an invaluable help. I'm sure Karlsor is grateful to have another Psycher to aid in warp examinations.”

Karlsor rolls his eyes and grumbles but doesn't disagree. 

Anrir shows you where and how the dimmer switch works, before he and the other Night Lords depart. (You do give Claude one more hug.) Then you pick up the box of items your parents had dropped off earlier; glancing inside you feel your chest blossom with warmth. 

Seems your folks hadn't forgotten your previous hospital stays. There were fresh clothes and your dental care items; as well as the items you'd actually remembered to request. 

But before you get changed. “Hey! If anybody is listening, turn around so I can change!” You call out. 

Khopesh comes up behind you, resting his head upon yours. You'd never get tired of his purrs. 

“Hmmm, I need a little more space sweetness.” You coo, shifting to remove your shirt, Khopesh responds by nibbling a little on your ear a little, but he does back up enough.

You realize he's acting as a barrier. He might know where the survelliance viewpoint is. “Thanks cutie,” You wink, and finish changing. 

You brush your teeth in the room's sink. And place your possessions as you like them on the bed. Once done, you clamber up, and snuggle beneath the covers. 

It is a decently large bed after all, made for a good range of astarte sizes. Comfortable for both of you. 

Khopesh sets the lights to his preference, hence why you got on the bed first as to not be clanking around in the dark. And it is very dark. You can't see a thing besides a slight glow from where your phone is face down charging. 

The dark shifts, you feel different parts of the bed dip with weight, you feel a familiar breath drift over your lips.

“Mmm,” You don't hesitate to follow that breath back to the lips it came from. This kiss wasn't like the exuberant ones you'd given before. This one was…deeper…more sensual. You move gently, and Khopesh does the same, pressing close so you have more contact. 

Nose to nose, forehead to forehead. 

“I've missed this…so badly my Lullaby.” His voice fans out in another soft breath. 

“I've missed you too.” You reply. You couldn't show Khopesh the full physical affection you Really wanted to. Not in this room, while being watched. 

But you could lay next to Khopesh as he settled in beside you. You could drape your arm across him and pull yourself to him. And you could feel yourself readily and Quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his purrs, and the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair and the sound of his two…hearts…

…zzz…

Khopesh smiled, he felt himself drifting as well; to his Lullaby's scent, their gentle breathing, and the sound of their heart…

…zzz…

__________________

Back in his study, Anrir continues to write down and transcribe his recent findings, as well as plans for future tests, possible training exercises, those sorts of things. 

“You know you can go about your evening Karlsor.” Anrir says, noting how his son seems…oddly attached at the moment. Normally once testing was done he'd be on his way to get looked over for psychery pain or handle other duties. 

The foul mouthed Nightlord shifts where he's standing. “I've got a fuckin question.”

Anrir pauses in his writing, the tension in the room feeling thicker. He sets down his stylus. “Of course, what is your quandary?”

“Why'd you let Lullaby argue their way out of fuckin staying so Easily? Doesn't seem like you to be so…easy about something so Security risk-ish.”

Anrir pauses, thinking over his response. “Well there was simply no need to push dear Karlsor.” The older Nightlord replies. “You of all people should know baselines can be…Stubborn. Trying to force them would have made them less cooperative.”

“But by presenting it as a choice, and one that will be present and more appealing as time goes on and commuting and training makes them more affable to it, we've a better chance of achieving the desired result.” Anrir concludes.  

Karlsor nods slowly. “Okay. Makes sense…now my Other fuckin question. Who's supposed to train them?”

“...”

“You gotta be fuckin kidding me!” Karlsor growls. He's got his hands full with the Scouts and barely being able to use his powers period! He doesn't need a baby baseline psycher on Top of that. Fuckin dammit.

“Now now Karlsor, don't be so quick to dismiss.” Anrir chides. “They'll also have physical training days and I will ensure you don't have to oversee those. However…I Believe you may come to appreciate their presence when you train your psychery.”

Karlsor looks confused. “And why's fuckin that?”

“Because even without psychery I noted the improvement in your status After they'd touched you.” Anrir said pointedly. “Did you not find it strange that your warp migraine dissipated so easily? So much Quicker, than it usually does.”

Karlsor takes a moment, he's mildly stunned to realize Anrir is right. “I…You're fuckin right…what the Fuck?”

Anrir smiles, a true Nightlord grin. “I believe our dear little Lullaby could be a great benefit, not just in terms of research but in how psychery may be able to function in the future here.” Anrir's eyes take on a wild quality. “Imagine it! A psychic conduit, able to absorb and redistribute the energy from bonds!”

Karlsor is a bit…overwhelmed by his father's sudden enthusiasm, but he's not stupid. He understands the possible perks. “Uh yeah…I'd definitely appreciate less shit fuck nosebleeds and pain.”

“This is only the beginning of a long road of discovery my dear Karlsor.” Anrir proclaims, turning back to his notes. “And while you are here tell me, what sounds better: a training regime leaning more towards that of a typical Guardsman or perhaps one more akin to a Sister of Battle?”

Karlsor feels some nervous sweat bead on his brow. Lullaby better be ready for the long haul ahead. 

[yarrystyleeza]

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

Well, as the title suggests, I am turning 22 on January 30th (yes I can't believe it either), and it's a very very special number to me, I was obsessed with it since I was a kid—because of Taylor Swift's 22 of course (you have no idea how happy my inner child is now!).

However, I thought I should celebrate this very important event with you by hosting my second sleepover! (honestly I was planning to make this a double sleepover if I hit 300 followers before my birthday, but since I didn't, I really had to host a sleepover)

As usual, my sleepover will host games, questions, asks, and definitely, requests!!! <3

The sleepover will be a week long, from January 30th till February 6th, where you can submit asks and requests!

Note on prohibited things that I won't be doing or answering:

No nsfw/dirty asks, writing requests or questions, it's uncomfortable for me sometimes, and this is an all-ages-friendly celebration. No further elaboration, please respect this. <3

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬:

Here's a list of the games we can play:

Kiss/Marry/Kill: you give me three characters and I will sort each one in one of these categories! (make it hard for me)

Would you rather: you give me two things/characters and I get to choose one that suits me better! (for example: night owl or early bird?)

Make an assumption: you literally make an assumption about me and I either prove it or deny it!

Never have I ever: you ask me about things I did or didn't do!

Exchanged Ships: basically, you give me a character that you find as my significant other, and I will give you a character in exchange and why I think it's the perfect character for you!

Random Q&A: you can ask me about anything, whether it's my favorite food or even what fabrics do I prefer to wear, ask whatever you want!

Girly Talks: just talk to me about any girly topic you want and we'll establish a good conversation! Let's talk about books or authors, favorite poetry pieces, maybe movies we loved in our childhood, or even your favorite outfits back when you were a 10 year old! Literally anything!

Rate My Music Taste: give me a song/artist and I will rate it from 1 (absolute flop) to 10 (total banger)! — (this is absolutely done just for fun).

I Wanna Write You A Song: start with a phrase and we will make a totally original song together in the reblogs!

Doodles: give me something simple to draw!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬:

As for writing requests, I will be taking fluff/angst/violence (blood and gore—due to the nature of the characters I write for) x female!reader requests only. But of course you can request the prompt you desire. <3

As for the characters, here's a list of the fictional men that I would be writing for:

Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Foggy Nelson

Tristan Thorn

Michael Kinsella

Henry (from Eat Locals)

Daryl Dixon

(might consider writing for other Charlie Cox/Norman Reedus characters. example: Ian Hamilton, Owen Sleater, Scud, Murphy MacManus, etc.)

You can ask for prompt included in this list or ones you come up with yourself:

intimate moments / gestures that make me feel love / romantic rainy day prompts / gentle things that make me fall harder in love / fluffy comforting/sick dialogue prompts / lighthearted first kiss prompts / sparring prompts / forced proximity prompts / date prompts masterpost /

Note that I will be tagging the fic requests with #yuna's 22 birthday sleepover so they're easy to find, but they will be sorted in my main masterlist as regular requests! <3

tagging my moots to spread the word sorry for being a little too annoying hehe (and I tried to tag as much as possible but my memory is messing around with me I'm sorry if I forgot anyone): @v4leoftears @remonemo @fizanotfeeza @bunmurdock @bellaxgiornata @kal-0n @1988-fiend @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @floral-charlie-cat @farfromstrange @babygirlmurdock @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @c-mrdck @xxeycisxx @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mindidjarin @little-miss-dilf-lover @shiorimakibawrites @tongueofcat @marytheweefrenchie @chvoswxtch @devilsmurdock @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @acharliecoxedfan @folkloreandfall @murdocklorian @munsonownsmyass @abbyhaslongshorts @murc0ck @lazyxsquirrel @theradioactivespidergwen @xxdrixx @saintmurd0ck @softasawhisper @she-likesorchids @peterman-spideyparker @mattmurdocksstarlight @amberlynnmurdock @courtforshort15 @saltedlays @importantnightwerewolf @lene-loki

That's basically everything I have for my birthday sleepover, feel free to submit requests and games! Thank you for coming to my sleepover tonight! <3

[halfdead-halfskeleton]

Notes:

Lilia x You. Reader knows how to sew clothing(while author does not)

Based off Suitors suit vignette. Technically it's a continuation of the story, so make sure to read the vignette before this fic

A lot of background characters, but I'm not tagging all of them

A bit non-linear storytelling?

The suit was made of magic, meaning it will disappear after a certain amount of time. The fact that such a beautiful sight is not going to stay here for long made your heart ache. And yet, you continued to smile and tried your best to memorize every tiny detail of the tuxedo. You had a plan, after all.

"Feast your eyes while you still can!" said Lilia. The tuxedo Malleus created for him was just marvelous! You and Sebek competed in who's going to complement Lilia more while his face was shining with a smile. Your face did too, it even hurt a bit to smile so much.

The next couple of months casually went by in your room, as you hunched over your secret project. If only your school life wasn't so busy and sometimes downright chaotic, you might have finished it sooner... And if the cruel thing that is perfectionism wouldn't criticize your every move.

After a few not-so-successful, to put it lightly, attempts, you finally finished recreation the suit Malleus made for Lilia back when ghosts that invaded the school for a marriage ceremony left.

Your first attempt failed because you were so obsessed with the idea of recreating the outfit you forgot to take Lilia's measurements. While the final product turned out to be quite nice, it wouldn't fit Lilia at all. Also you didn't have some accessories the original outfit had, which you noticed only at the end.

And so, you began anew, but now without the fabric you intended to use. The end result turned out too different from the tuxedo you remembered. The shade of green? Too vibrant. The pattern on the ribbon? Wrong. The pants? Actually quite nice, but that's the only part of the outfit you liked. And after your sewing machine unexpectedly broke you lost all the crumbs of motivation there were left...

Thankfully, you became a good friends with some students at NRC. While you were earning money for a new sewing machine, Vil and Kalim searched for the fabric and accessories that matched Lilia's suitor suit. Vil didn't get to witness the tuxedo, so you and Kalim had to explain how it looked like. You even showed him all the sketches you made and the first attempt suit as an example.

"Wow, your skill is really shinning here!" Kalim carefully examined the suit from all angles together with Vil. "It's really unfortunate your sewing machine broke... Are you sure you don't want me to get you a new one? It's going to be way faster than working in Mostro Lounge for a whole month."

"That's right, but I'm already asking you for help, you know. It won't be so fair if you do everything for me!" you answered and looked at Vil, who's also visibly impressed by your skills.

"The stitching is quite nice, you clearly took your time to make it the best suit it could be. I'm glad to see you actually listened to the advice I gave you during previous projects. Alright, I'll lend you a hand as well. Just remember that my schedule is tight, so it will take a while to find everything you need."

"Thank you both so, so much!" As you said that, Kalim came closer to give you a big hug. He was super excited to see how it will turn out!

After mountains and mountains of work, you left out a sign. Not out of exhaustion or frustration, but out of relief. You did it. You DID it! Finally, even when it seemed like the whole universe itself didn't want you to complete the suit, you did it!

"Good job." A sudden pat on your back woke you up from all the thoughts. It was Vil who just entered the room. After a minute or so, Kalim came here too.

"Sorry for making you wait!" He panted and leaned on the closest wall. "Oh, I got so scared when I couldn't find the Albert chain I had to call Jamil and a couple of other Scarabia students for help. We found it! It's the same one I gave Lilia that night."

"Wait, if that's the same one... Is it really okay for me to take it? You could get something similar, but..."

"But? I thought you wanted to make 1:1 recreation. Why are you backing up now?" Vil asked with a frown on the face. You pulled him closer and whispered:

"Because it costs 10 million thaumarks!" Such shocking information left Vil speechless for a minute.

"Well, I thought the original one would suit him better! So here it is." As Kalim said that, he placed the Albert chain with a bat on the outfit. You looked at your creation, the exact copy of the tuxedo Malleus has created with magic. Even though some tears appeared on your eyes, your face radiated joy. You finally did it.

It was an after-school evening when you decide to gift Lilia the suit you've been working so hard on. As you roamed around Diasomnia dorm, something poked your back. Strangely, when you looked back there was nothing and no-one. So you turned your head forward and immediately got spooked by upside-down Lilia!

"Ehehe." He smiled mischievously, yet still helped you to get back up. "It's rare to see non-Diasomnia students here at such time. Could it be that you're looking for someone?" Lilia's eyes were set on the box you carried, it was wrapped nicely, like a birthday present.

When your heartbeat calmed down, you remembered the words you prepared in your head. "Yes, there is... But I'm not sure if they'll actually like the present I made. Could you take a look?"

"Oh? A skilled dressmaker like you wishes to hear my opinion? I would be more than glad to assist you." Your heart skipped a beat. Did someone tell him about your secret project? Who could that- oh, probably Kalim, since they're in the same club. And even if Kalim didn't tell it exactly to him, but Cater instead, Lilia would still find out. But maybe Lilia doesn't actually know and said it just because?.. You're kind of known for your great sewing skills. Or... "Let's do it in my room, I was right on my way there." You brushed off the haunting thoughts away and headed to Lilia's room, trying to calm down.

His face beamed with happiness when you let him unwrap the present. Although at first he wondered if it was really okay. "It would be rather troublesome to wrap it back up when you're going to gift it to that person."

"Don't worry, I won't have to do it." A surprised gasp echoed in the room. Lilia carefully picked up the tuxedo, examining every detail. He couldn't believe his eyes. "So, what do you think?"

After a minute of silence, he smiled. "I still remember this tuxedo. I'm really proud of Malleus for coming up with such an elaborate design. And I'm really proud of you for recreating it up to every single detail." As Lilia said that, his eyes began to tear up a bit. "That night I wore a tuxedo for the first time in my life. It's hard to believe I can re-experience that moment again."

"Do you wish to wear it right now?" While you did take Lilia's and some other students'(to make it less suspicious) measurements long time ago, anxiety kept telling you you might have made a mistake at some point.

"I'm eager to wear it!" You smiled unknowingly when Lilia's gentle laugh reached your ears. In a couple of minutes you re-entered the room to see him happily dancing in the suit you made. The moment he saw you he reached for your hand. "Would you mind to dance with me for a moment? Such a delightful gift deserves a special thank-you!"

Blush painted your cheeks red, and heart began to beat faster with joy and excitement. You happily accepted Lilia's offer, taking his hand in yours. And so, you danced around the room. At one point Lilia began to hum a sweet melody. You joined him, and you both hummed in unison while dancing across the room.

You knew this moment, no matter how joyous and bright, would end eventually. So you made sure to enjoy every last bit of it, engraving it in your memory for eternity. And so did he.

[chipmunkweirdo]

hii, idk if u take requests but if u do, what are ur chipmunks (just Alvin Simon and Theodore) headcanons??

I do take requests! You’re in luck! Thank you for messaging me!

Oooh boy, I have SOOOO many headcanons for them. Let me copy and paste the list I made that used to be on my Twitter.

SIMON

Simon secretly loves going on adventures, but as “the responsible one” he’s expected to be the killjoy. Sometimes, he’ll let Alvin go through with a scheme and tag along on the adventure without telling an authority figure. You only live once.

He tends to be crazy prepared for any situation that could possibly be thrown at him. This includes government spies. He even built an underground tunnel system underneath his house and his family uses it to hide out when the situation calls for it.

His memory is incredible and allows him to memorize lists of facts and statistics.

Because of his good memory, he holds grudges for a long time. He will make you pay for that time that you wronged him even if you forgot what you did or said and have since moved on.

The power of his mind is so important to him that he tends to forget it’s not the only thing that defines his character. He fears Alvin becoming smarter than him.

Simon wants to protect people and keep them safe. As a result, he often violates their rights to privacy in the name of safety. Good examples would be putting tracking devices on every bike in the neighborhood and putting a tracking device in Alvin’s cap.

He can’t figure out how to make anything he cooks taste good. This irritates him because he strives to learn all the useful skills he can and this one is no exception. He really doesn’t appreciate all Alvin’s jokes about his meals causing “Simon-ella” poisoning.

(Then the show implied Simon was a god tier cook better than Theo in season 5. I didn’t love that episode.)

He enjoys watching The Big Bang Theory and feels like he can relate to Leonard. He also deals with an annoying egotistical roommate. (Alvin) Now that Alvin is 2.0, he sees even more of Alvin in Sheldon. He teases Alvin sometimes by calling him “Shelvin.”

Although he has a soft spot for sitcoms and sci fi, he prefers non-fiction to fiction.

His favorite non-fiction shows are anything on the science network or the discovery channel. His favorite non-fiction books are encyclopedias and anything science related.

When Dave tells him an invention or experiment is too dangerous, he does it anyway. He disobeys Dave in his pursuit of knowledge and Alvin disobeys Dave in his pursuit of a fun time. However, Simon believes that he’s in the right and Alvin is in the wrong.

He’s a hypocrite.

It irks him that he can no longer be snide or passive aggressive without Alvin 2.0 eventually realizing it.

He’s so farsighted that he’s basically blind without his glasses. He finds glasses to be a nuisance sometimes, but is accustomed to wearing them and prefers them to contacts. Besides, they are a big part of his casual look.

Simon is a closeted brony. He watched My Little Pony with Jeanette once and became a Twilight Sparkle fan. He is deeply embarrassed by his love for the show because he thinks no one will take a scientist who loves MLP seriously.

Simon does not possess a lot of lower body strength. His strength is the opposite of Alvin’s, concentrated mostly in his upper body. He’s gotten pretty strong from lifting power drills, chainsaws, heavy metal robot parts, and stuff.

He can beat Alvin 2.0 in an arm wrestle.

Simon enjoys basketball and plays it quite frequently in his spare time. He joined the basketball team once, but then he couldn’t handle the peer pressure and switched to a basketball club instead.

THEODORE

Theodore eats more whenever he’s feeling stressed, but if he’s really feeling angry or depressed, he won’t eat as much....if at all. If he says “I’m not hungry.” You know he’s in a bad place.

He’s gotten over his fear of one clown. However, he still has nightmares about being chased by a pack of clowns sometimes. He also has nightmares about disappointing Dave and being stuck in a box.

He loves to cook for people. He enjoys helping Eleanor most, but he will still cook by himself, provided Dave allows him to use the kitchen.

He likes to be the one to make refreshments for school events. This can get overwhelming, but Eleanor helps him cope with the stress.

His naive and young demeanor helps to shield him from Alvin and Simon’s fighting.

Talking Teddy is his favorite show because it’s a distraction from all the pain and suffering in the world. He lives in a figurative little bubble and he chooses what he lets in and out.

Although he hates dealing with real drama, fake drama on TV is a-okay in his book. He enjoys watching Spanish soap operas and uses them to practice his Spanish.

Theodore is a part of the school drama club as well. He likes showing off his range as an actor.

Alvin’s change hasn’t affected him as much as it affected Simon. Unfortunately, Alvin has gotten really wordy and hard to understand. Theodore is occasionally forced to look up words in the dictionary if he wishes to have any idea what Alvin and Simon are talking about.

When Brittany needs someone to help her finish all the extra duties for the principal, Theodore steps in to help. His need to stretch himself and help as many people as possible sometimes causes him to burn out. He needs to learn that sometimes it’s okay to say “I’m busy.”

To prove how he’s matured since the events of the Alvinnn pilot, Theodore now has access to the keyboard Simon tricked out for Talking Teddy. He frequently types in responses and pretends Teddy is talking to him, even though he knows he’s just talking to himself. It doesn’t hurt to pretend if it’s a coping mechanism.

His love for Talking Teddy boarders on obsession at times. He’s gone to the live show, owns the videogame, has a huge DVD collection, has seen all 4 movies, and owns more than one Talking Teddy doll. Teddy, backup Teddy, and mini Teddy the backpack clip, to name a few.

More mature Theodore does have a bit more of a backbone than his alternate universe counterparts. He gets second and even third opinions before agreeing to certain things. He’s even started developing an ability to sense if a situation is “fishy” or legit.

He’s extremely proud of his musical skills and especially his drumming skills. He’s always begging Dave to add drum solos to songs so he can show off his skills. Alvin and Simon get their guitar and bass solos. He wants his time to shine too.

He knows a large number of dances and he’s even invented his own dance moves. He likes freestyling the best. When the boys took ballet, he picked up on the skill faster than Simon and Alvin. It helped that Eleanor encouraged him in a nicer way than she did the other boys.

Sometimes Theodore pushes the limits of what his cuteness can do, such as scoring free candy by making puppy dog eyes. In addition, Alvin uses him as a secret weapon to bring out the inner goodness in people.

Theodore hates being thought of as stupid and naive. He doesn’t want to be a “genius” like his brothers though. He’d like to be thought of as a person with average intelligence. And he especially wants to prove to Officer Dangus that he’s not dumb.

Theodore’s habit of sensing things more strongly than other people is one of the reasons that he almost always notices Eleanor.

His five senses are very in tune with the world around him, especially his senses of smell of taste. Sight’s better than his brothers’ obviously. Both of them wear glasses and he doesn’t need glasses.

ALVIN/ALVIN 2.0

Alvin was a closeted nerd, but as Alvin 2.0 he’s connected more with that side of himself. He’s still getting used to the way it’s changed how people react to him.

He’s an excellent artist, even though he failed art class 3 times for not following directions. He drew comics and did his own projects instead of actually doing the assignments. “What? I’m making art, right? And this is art class....so I should get an A.”

Alvin is a tetrachromat, meaning he possesses 4 different types of vision cones for processing color. He can tell apart even the most subtle color variations. This is why he gets so picky about describing colors.

He is ambidextrous. He can do things equally well with both his right and left hands. He was originally right handed, but he broke his arm and had to learn how to function with his left. When his arm healed, he started using both and has continued the trend ever since.

He’s very absent-minded and puts sticky note reminders all over to help him remember important things. He also has a bunch of reminders programmed into his phone.

When he really needs to focus, he leaves his phone and his videogames in another room, so they won’t distract him.

He’s physically weak in his upper body and most of his strength is concentrated in his lower body. His legs can move faster than all of the other Chipmunks’ and Chipettes’. He excels in any sport or activity that requires running quickly.

He likes academic subjects, but that doesn’t mean he’s thrilled with the idea of school. He’d rather learn the subjects on his own. Teachers have ridiculously high expectations of him and there’s students who bully him. It’s tough.

He has ONE teacher who understands him and makes school tolerable. It’s that very same teacher that helped him discover his interest in physics. He takes an advanced placement class for no reason other than to be able to see this amazing teacher named Dr. Wilson almost every day.

He’s an honorary member of the Mathletes. He sometimes attends meetings if he isn’t busy. His codename is “Al-gebrainiac.” (This will make more sense if you’ve see the season 2 episode called Members Only)

He likes meeting new people and is very sociable. The change didn’t affect his extroverted tendencies. Sometimes his sociableness gets him in trouble.

He has a tendency to get involved in dangerous and risky situations when his curiosity kicks in.

Beneath all his new traits, he’s still got a wild side. He will always try to justify his rebellious actions with a logical reason, but it’s kind of obvious the actual reason is “he wanted to have fun.”

Ever since his transition, he hasn’t been keeping up his looks as much. (Though he is still somewhat vain and sometimes concerned with his appearance) He stops putting gel in his hair on occasion, which causes it to do whatever it wants. His messy unkempt and appropriately named “Einstein hair” gives him a sort of absent minded professor vibe.

He both loves and fears meeting new Alvins from the multiverse. He’s interested to meet them and make conversation, but he fears they won’t see past his nerdy exterior and big vocabulary.

Due to his tendency to talk a lot for long periods of time barely stopping to breathe, Alvin suffers from severe dry mouth. This may also be why his speaking voice has a noticeable raspier and older sound to it than the voices of his alternate counterparts.

And there you have it! My headcanons for the boys!

[theycallmeratt]

Writer Interview

Tagged by the fantastic @beesht, @commander-krios, and @coreene!

(just realized I forgot to tag people ummmm @lolliputian, @aviatorasharak @bloobluebloo)

When did you start writing?

So long ago that I no longer recall when it was. I also like arranging and playing with words. It's a crutch for me; my brain often feels aimless and chaotic. Writing lets me lock down my thoughts so I can quit chasing them.Expressing myself face-to-face has always been a struggle; I hide behind screens, sunglasses and masks. I'm happiest when people don't know what I look or sound like, and writing is the easiest way to talk with people without my physical-ness getting in the way.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Love horror, adore it. I'm not super great at writing it (yet!).

I also love heists. I keep trying to write a heist. It is not going well.

Finally, I love mythologies and folklore. I'm currently really into American Indigenous (specifically Inuit and I just got a book on Latin American mythologies) and Middle Eastern (specifically Iranian). Or, at least what I can find in English, from a reputable source. I would love to write about characters from these (Esfandiyār! Sedna!) but I'm a white American who is neither a part of those cultures nor educated enough to treat the subject with the respect it deserves.

But I will talk about them and encourage other people to learn because they're very cool.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Haha, I specifically don't read while I'm writing so I don't emulate anyone, but creativity doesn't happen in a vacuum so..

My writing style and content were influenced by the authors I grew up on: KA Applegate, Terry Pratchett, Diana Wynne Jones, Terry Brooks, Sergio Lukyanenko, Neil Gaiman, Francesca Lia Blake, Anne Bishop, Terry Goodkind, Arthur C Clarke, Laurel K Hamilton. Some of those authors I was far too young to read, a lot I don't read or like anymore, but they definitely shaped my fascination with urban fantasy, people living normal lives in weird worlds, people finding the weird in normal worlds, horror and humor and how they fit together, how both are most effective when they're just reality taken slightly off-kilter, and how small any single person's perspective is.

I've also been on Tumblr for about a billion years and have the Tumblr/millennial accent and I'm too tired to change it. 

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

On my phone, swipe keyboard, usually while commuting or waiting in line or standing over the stove or late at night when I can't sleep. Writing isn't a priority in my life right now, so I squeeze it into all the empty spaces.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I wrote about this here under "recharging when I'm not feeling creative" and here under "where do you get inspiration", but short answer is taking a complete break from creating anything, slogging through whatever is blocking me or interacting with my community.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Shifting identities and what defines a person. I was raised on the idea that the "soul" is a person's core unifying self. I'm fascinated by this concept because if you take away "soul" as an easy answer, then what is a person? What makes me the same person as who I was twenty years ago? As me, age 2 months? If I lost all my memories, am I still me? What if I only lose one thing, like my driving force, or a fundamental belief, or if I recover from trauma or receive treatment for a chronic condition? What if I was uploaded into a machine? 

Anyway, I'm rambling, but I think I probably assign my identity to experience: memory, skills, hobbies, achievements and failures, and those are the concepts I've been exploring a lot.

What is your reason for writing?

I get itchy otherwise.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I like knowing the exact parts people like, so whenever anyone quotes part of a fic, I get excited. I also love hearing people's theories or if they noticed any Easter eggs or references. My writing is so self indulgent sometimes and meeting people who also like it feels like meeting people who would like me? (That sounds really pathetic haha but I'm leaving it because it's honest).

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Funny! And hopefully a bit creative. 

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Finishing a piece before I publish it, I guess. Writers have a right to bail on a piece for whatever reason, even for no reason. Writers have a right to publish incomplete work. But, personally, I'm a little proud that I put out completed pieces. 

I also try to write in a way that's uncomplicated. I avoid using oversized words, complex sentences, too many pronouns or vague references. Keep things simple, you know? I want to write things that people can read when they're distracted, or only have time for a few paragraphs, or if they aren't great readers.

Usually when I'm reading my head is already fried and I don't have the time or spoons to get assaulted by a thesaurus.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I'm only influenced if I'm doing a piece for someone, or if I know a specific person will read it and I want to make them smile. Beyond that, it's all for me :)

How do you feel about your own writing?

It's a little trite, but that's okay. I love happy endings, so I aim for that. I also love the bizarre, absurd and ridiculous.

I do overuse this sentence format, where it's two clauses together. I'd like to fix that. And like all my paragraphs are three sentences, gross.

Anyway, I like it overall.

[bestangelofall]

I am ALSO interested in brujay, only the super fucked up kind that you’ve written before. If whatever brujay you have cooking has a happy Jason then Godspeed, I will reread your post Gotham war fic for the one millionth time. The brujay of all time. People write post-brujay recovery and don’t tag it brujay and I’m like come ooonnn lemme find it I need to read brujay fucked up version or I’ll die

Hi anon, thanks for the ask :)

I don't think I've ever written a fic where Jason is happy lol. What is happy Jason? Does that exist?

Specifically regarding Brujay, I think I can only write them in fucked up scenarios. Like, I haven't written a lot of it, but the healthiest they ever are in any of my fics still merits the "unhealthy relationships" tag xD.

cw below: non-con

Honestly, the Gotham War Thing ™️ gave so much stuff to write the most fucked up Brujay (coupled with Jason whump), and if anything, I have to say I like that arc just for that xD. You can have it all, really: subtle manipulation leading to dub-con/non-con (the following arc, Dark Prisons, with Jason offering to die and then not being mentioned in 149 in the little family reunion); violent non-con taking into consideration the effects of what Bruce did to Jason (i.e. the adrenaline thing and fear spiking during sex, I read a fic with that premise which was excellent!); and you can also have the "Bruce finally coming to his senses but not really" variety which is just a little less toxic than subtle (conscious) manipulation.

Specifically regarding Batman 149 and the happy family reunion ™️, I have this idea of Dick (who was oh so revolted in 138 for what Bruce did, but then promptly forgot Jason when "everything got solved") finding out that not only Jason isn't cured of what Bruce did, but ALSO Bruce has been taking advantage of that now (maybe subtly telling Jason that he'll undo what he did if Jason sleeps with him? Maybe something else?). I guess Dick would beat Bruce again, but would that really solve anything? idk. And that wouldn't be the point of this fic anyway.

Sorry anon, you didn't ask about this, but I got carried away xD.

Also I'm so happy you love that fic ❤️ because I think (well, I'm the author, so I *know*) it was written too hurriedly, but I also needed to get it out of my drafts or else it would never see the light of day. The initial plan was to make it all slower, chapters upon chapters of Bruce slowly manipulating Jason and then pouncing, but it ended up a one-shot because it wouldn't go anywhere otherwise. Maybe I'll even come back to it, because I love the Gotham War possibilities for fic!

[vossn]

🩸✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨🩸

Thank you for the tag @ineadhyn ! Really excited to do this.

When did you start writing?

I started writing at age .. eleven, I think? It was a story about a girl getting taken to a parallel world populated by elves to save their world. Pretty cliché, but I also took some inspiration from some historical sources I liked at the time, so it did at least kickstart my knack for worldbuilding.

I wrote some more, I stopped, grew up, graduated, entered fandom spaces and remembered "hey, you used to love writing, what happened?" (depression, mostly). I wrote a modern AU for a game I was playing at the time. I stopped again. You'll never guess why. I made writer friends. I created a character I loved so much that I had to bring their story to paper and later created my novel project. I went from zero to hundred and haven't stopped in 3 years. The rest is history.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading more than what you write?

One thing I love that I don't really write much are humorous pieces. Those are my catnip. Other than that, I pretty much read what I write!

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't have any big-name authors - but I do have some wonderfully talented friends and acquaintances that, if someone told me our writing was similar, I would be overjoyed. My friend keeps telling me I have a "film noir" style, and I do try to keep that going in everything I write.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I prefer to write in cafés or libraries. Otherwise just at home on the couch or in bed, and those are far from glamorous. If i tell you I am writing, there is a 90% chance I am wearing nothing but boxer shorts and drinking coffee independently of the hour. I also light some incense or scented candles to write. Y'know, for the Omnissiah

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Go on a walk. Play some thematically completely unfitting music. Think long and hard about the vibes. Stop every 100m to make notes on your phone. This works best if it is 2am, I wish I was joking.

Alternatively: Swim for about 2km. Be alone with your thoughts and see where it takes you. Good luck remembering those ideas when you leave the water though.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Religious Imagery and discussion: This one is complicated, because I am technically raised close to atheist, but religion as a concept did have a huge pull on me as a child. If you grow up being told there is something wrong with you, the idea of "Some god made you, and you are exactly the way you are supposed to be" is a magical thing. Of course, reality looks different. Half surprise, half not? When I found out the RT fandom has a whole subsection of fics dealing with the symbols of the Inqusition I was like. well, this calls my name. Also I met some of my closest friends via the discussion of churches as a setting and very angry [redacted] in said churches so. Hello gang. 👋🏻

My ultimate tagline is "Violence as desire and desire as violence" and while the pattern did take me through some introspection, not surprised either.

Repression. Again, are we surprised? No. Not really. I'm generally very aware of my themes, I'd say, but please enlighten me if I forgot something. Submit me to the ordeal of being known etc etc

What is your reason for writing?

I do enjoy it, I have ideas, and those ideas need to out or start paying rent.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Nope! I enjoy all of them. You can get brownie points for citing favorite lines or saying something that makes me feel seen!

When two people I really look up to in terms of style described my prose as "clean" and "effortless" I just about died, because I never thought of myself that way. Same as when someone observes themes and patterns that even I haven't noticed. Also when a dear person replied to my WIP with "I'm going to eat your fingers", that made me laugh so hard I still think of it.

In short: You have something unhinged to say - Say it. I love comments so wild they have never been heard before.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

"Damn, there is something awfully wrong with that guy but I'm into it. Also that prose fucks."

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I hate how edgy this is going to sound, but my strength is writing darkness. Overdrawn emotions taken into the extreme - obsession, hatred, desire, but also coldness or hopelessness and despair. I love themes and emotions that don't exactly fall in the middle of the bell curve, because writing them is fun, and there is merit in exploring them. I often joke that my experiences at least enable me to write really weird stuff, but I mainly just favor these topics because it allows me to get really poetic with my language.

TL;DR: I put the lust in bloodlust.

How do you feel about your own writing?

This is a tricky question for me to answer at the moment, because I've been going through it™️ and my perception is clouded by that. Generally I'm pretty confident - I know my strengths and weaknesses and I know what I put out there is okay. On the other hand, I feel like the vulnerability is needed to keep me humble. Whenever I approach something with too much "I can do this!" it turns out dogshit. However, I feel at least that what I provide is unique to some degree.

When you write, are you influenced by what others enjoy or might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Brother. Please take a look at my ao3 and tell me anything on there can be considered popular /s

I write for an audience of one - what I wrote is what I wanted to read. Quite a few of my works are so limited in their audience that they never make it to posting. I get ecstatic when people show interest, and that is the main reason I share, but I try not to keep an imaginary audience in my head when I write. It hinders me. I love doing gift works, and I approach them with the mindset of "I'm going to give you something that's for you specifically but still has my unique spin on it" and of course factor their enjoyment into my writing, but try not to overthink to the degree it stops my enjoyment.

Let it be said, I love my fandom friends, and want to write them all the things.

Tagging: @redbatchedcumbermayned and @galateaencore (only if you'd like, of course)

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

"For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me."

-- If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio

“Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.”

-- On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

and as for poetry, i like to talk about "Written in my Dreams by W. C. Williams" by Allen Ginsberg with other people because it's short and rolls over the tongue nicely and i like to come back to it, puts a smile on my face, you know?

i'll also never forget "A Carcass" by Charles Baudelaire from when we read it at school years ago and then again in high school and i have now chosen Les Fleurs du mal as one of the books for my oral school leaving exam, so it's definitely one of those authors i read once and was never able to get out of my head

and last but not least, Louise Glück (may she rest in peace) and her "Theory of Memory" which includes the ending "Right now you are a child holding hands with a fortune-teller. All the rest is hypothesis and dream." and i simply don't have a choice but to love this one

i have so many more favourites, but these are the ones i can think of right now hehe <33

what r ur favourite poems and quotes??

those are brilliant actually

mine are quite, different to what one may think but i like finding meaning in things that other people think are only surface level :

思い出なんか いらん - we don't need memories

this is from the anime haikyuu LMAO which is a fucking volleyball anime and it is the team motto of one of the teams. It is quite honestly my life motto at this point. I used to live in the past, excused people for thing they do now because they were different in the past. they were different in my memories. I was so focused on the past i forgot to enjoy my present. I am done doing that. My memories hold me back. I am tired of it.

"to love and lose and still be kind" - warsan shire

this is pretty self explanatory. i dont think I've had a hard life. but i certainly haven't had an easy one. i have a habit of giving too much of myself to people. I'm working on rectifying that whilst still being kind.

"but i cut people out like tags on my clothing" - conan gray

I LOVE people watching its one of my favourite songs. but this line is really important to me. I've cut the tags off of my clothing for as long as I can remember. ever since i was a kid. I also have a habit of cutting out people the second they break my trust. as easy as cutting off tags from my clothing. I don't think its a good habit or a bad habit. it just. is.

"It's always the ones who are quietest who often have the greatest things to say" - TJ Klune, Wolfsong

This is from one of my favourite books of all time. I was a quiet child for a while. I never got excited for anything and after a while my parents suspected I had childhood depression, we still don't know for sure if I did. It makes a lot of sense though. It took me a while to become confident in my own voice and my own opinions. this quote is really important to me.

"Men don't cry. My daddy taught me that. Men don't cry because they don't have time to cry.

I must not have been a man yet because I cried. I bowed my head and cried." - TJ Klune, Wolfsong

This isn't personal to me in anyway, I just really, really love this part of the book and these two lines in particular.

"I'll be your hands." "I'll be your sanity." - TJ Klune, Ravensong

love has always been something I've read about. but this quote takes the damn cake.

as for poems,

At a Funeral by Dennis Brutus

I analyzed this poem for an English Lit class and the story behind why it was written really stuck with me. It was written after the death of Valencia Majombozi who was shot on the day of her graduation from nursing school. Its a protest poem and it just hits really fucking hard.

Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney

This was the first poem that i ever took inspiration from. I had of course written before, but I really enjoyed Heaney's writing style so it strongly influenced my poem Quietude, which I am planning to submit to the empty inkwell publication...hopefully lol

Identity Card by Mahmoud Darwish

This poem is written as a form of protest poetry as well. Mahmoud Darwish was a Palestinian poet, for those of you who do not know and he wrote this poem about being asked for his identity card by Israeli Officers. Its really, really good.

[legendoftheotherside]

Naruto fic recs pt 1

Yesterday, I found a document file containing a partial fic rec list that I made to share on Tumblr. That was back in 2022—lmao, I forgot about it. So, here are some fics that I liked (the rest will follow when I get time to write down the next list). Hopefully, this will help others find good reads and give authors more love.

Disclaimer: fics below aren't listed in any particular order + I didn't check grammar, I just wrote why I like something XD

Change Fills My Time by 100demons  https://archiveofourown.org/works/687192/chapters/1261512 

M; 73k; Gen; completed

Summary: Thirty year old Kakashi was supposed to have been killed by Pein during the Invasion. Instead, he wakes up in the body of his twenty year old self.

(It gets a lot more complicated.) 

Okay, so this is one of the most brilliant fics with time-traveling Kakashi I’ve ever read and this was probably my third time doing so, if not fourth. 

This fic is completed, has a clear plot, the writing is extremely well-executed in both style and tone, and has lots of twists. Although taking a darker turn than most fics of this kind (think of ao3 tags canon typical violence with a dash of character death), it’s the origin of the sort of famous Watanabe Textiles, and considering all I mentioned above, I wholeheartedly recommend it!

Of The Leaf by Temeritous https://archiveofourown.org/works/4795649/chapters/10975265

T; 41k; Gen; Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence; Complete, part of the series

Summary: [The king is dead; long live the king.]

A month before the Chuunin Exams are set to begin, the Hokage dies of a stroke. Danzo steps up as interim Hokage until the Council can vote in the Fifth, and then Kakashi has to start thinking about more drastic measures. Because what he knows, and what everyone else seems to have forgotten, is that natural causes have nothing to do with shinobi. 

Uff, I did read some fics with Danzo taking over Leaf after Sandaime dies (or he actively kills him himself) but I’ve never read this one. It’s very interestingly written and I wouldn’t have recommended it if I didn’t think so. This fic is part one of the series The Tale of Naruto Uzumaki https://archiveofourown.org/series/493657.

has the second installment: The Water Truce and I’ll just tell you: chef’s kiss!!

Nobody Expects The Shinobi Inquisition by Azremodehar https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282646/chapters/71908998

T; >200k; Gen; ongoing; Dragon age crossover

Summary: In an act of classic Uchiha Melodrama, Uchiha Shisui leaps to his death... only to be thwarted when he wakes up, chained up and in a dungeon, with a splitting pain in his left hand.

I’ve been playing Dragon Age longer than being a fan of Naruto, so color me impressed when I found this fic. The summary itself made me so freakin intrigued.

I love Shisui. He is a very fun character, a sort of blank slate to characterize in their own way for purposes of the plot, though I love that most of the authors use the most popular fanon characterization, putting their own spin on it, and this fic isn't exempt from that. 

In Nobody Expects The Shinobi Inquisition Shisui is kinda op but considering how hyped he was in the canon I can stand behind that. He’s also smart. A lot. I love when the MC is smart and Shisui doesn’t disappoint. He’s also a bit manipulative, but which shinobi isn’t? 

Having Shisui immersed into the main cast of the DA:Inquisition is definitely fun so following him sweeping through the game’s plot—sometimes silently just like true shinobi and sometimes in all the grace of a bull in a china shop just because he finds it fun—is something I wholeheartedly recommend. 

I can’t lie, I love this one so much.

Dance of the Dog God by Tartarun https://archiveofourown.org/works/28989696/chapters/71144721 

G (says that but it’s pretty dark and I would rate it M at least); 234k; Gen; incomplete - actively being published (more chapters on ff.net, but from what I understand the author had been publishing an edited version on ao3 up until mid 2022)

Summary: Kakashi loved Konoha a little less and his father a bit more. What happens next changes the face of history. However, Team 7's destiny years later is still wrapped with the silver-haired man's and an intricate dance begins. 

Dance of the Dog God could easily be considered an excellent psychological thriller. The author may have tagged it for general audiences, however, it’s the use of the Alternate Universe - Dark AO3 tag that should tell you a lot. It’s very, very dark while basically being AU where Kakashi defected, Rin lives, and Obito becomes Team 7's sensei and yet nothing is as it seems to be.

The author is a master at manipulating the reader with crumbs of information while building a greatly detailed world and keeping tensions and suspense high while having a very fast pace. 

It’s honestly one of the best-written fics out there. If you like a sort-of-like-grimdark atmosphere and are not afraid of some psychological horror, give it a shot. 

Time Flies Like An Arrow by Katlou303 https://archiveofourown.org/works/12668358/chapters/28877022 

Not rated (but imo T at the highest); 240k; Gen; complete (has sequel(s))

Summary: Sakura traveled back in time with the intent of changing everything, but something went wrong, and now she's four years old having nightmares about impossible monsters and losing friends she has yet to meet.

Time Flies Like An Arrow is an excellent time-travel fic with Sakura as an MC. Shisui becomes her friend and sort-of mentor, which made me really happy to read. But unlike most of the time-travel fics where the character travels to the past and immerses themselves with their younger counterpart, here the younger Sakura is mainly in charge while the time traveler shows herself through sharing memories. 

Hellbent by LuckySevenhttps://archiveofourown.org/works/25797892/chapters/62662261 

M; 200k; Multi pairing; Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence; ongoing

Summary: Orochimaru makes an adjustment in his sales pitch to Sasuke in the Forest of Death and everything changes as a result.

The Leaf is corrupt, Team Seven is disillusioned and Kakashi suddenly has to figure out how to keep three overpowered Genin safe on the run when the whole world wants to take a bite out of them.

A couple of steps to the side may take the path an entirely new direction, a few words chosen differently and the story may have an entirely new ending, and a small band of underestimated and untethered ninja who choose each other above anything else may shift the whole world on its axis.

Hellbent shoves the nail into the cogs of canon and executes it so beautifully; from well-written characterization to just plain old good writing, this fic has it all.