#demon blood....fact check FALSE

[seasononesam]

not a single late seasons plotline I wouldn't trade for more psychic powers/demon blood sam... if british men of letters has to die so I get to see late seasons sam with blood all over his mouth it will have to perish!

[nerdycafe]

Blood Doesn't Matter to the word 'Family'

𝙼𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ➢ 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝚄𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ➢ 1 ◉ 7

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐.

─────────ೋღ 🌺 ღೋ─────────

❝-*- 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 -*- *.☽ .* | Inuyasha x Half-Demon! Adoptive Mother Reader❞

❝-*-𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬-*- •°•⚠️•°• | None❞

❝-*-𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠-*- ஓ๑♡๑ஓ | Mature ❞

❝-*-𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦-*- ❀○❀ | Inuyasha ❞

❝-*-𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬-*- ʚ♡ɞ | Sango ♥︎ Miroku _ Inuyasha ♥︎ Kagome _ Inuyasha ♥︎ Kikyo _ Koga ♡ Kagome _ Kikyo ♡ Naraku❞

♥︎ Romantic

♡ One-sided

❝-*-𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬-*-•┈┈┈• Inuyasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango, Shippo, Kirara, Koga, Ginta, Hakkukau, Kikyo, Sesshomaru, Rin, Jaken, Naraku, Kagura, Kanna, Hakudoshi, Kohaku, Izayoi, Toga, Iyame❞

❝𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 -*- ✎﹏﹏﹏ 𝐈𝐧𝐮𝐲𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚'𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬.❞

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ ᎬΝᎫϴᎽ ͲᎻᎬ ՏͲϴᎡᎽ ♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Inuyasha and Sesshomaru stared at one another, the wind blowing their hair and clothing in the wind along with the grass and the trees, they said nothing for a while, sizing each other up. Then, Sesshomaru broke the silence but not the tension. “Inuyasha, you’ve approached me in your human form. How atrocious.” He sneered. Inuyasha scoffed. “Humph, you damn right I did, I heard that you only come to visit Mom when it’s the new moon.” He said in a cocky voice, he was already mentally prepared for Sesshomaru to see him in such a form, so he doesn’t care. Sesshomaru shot back. “And what’s it to you? Last I checked you never even visit the woman, so much for a son.” He fired.

Inuyasha growled at Sesshomaru’s words. “Well I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere until I get some damn answers, Sesshomaru.” He said, determination in his voice. Sesshomaru stared at him for a moment before he stepped forward, Inuyasha steeled his resolve before he stepped forward as well. They walked towards one another, until they were just a few feet apart. They stared each other down for a moment before Sesshomaru spoke. “You want answers, yet you can’t even answer the fact that you never visited, half-breed.” He shot.

“Humph, I had my reasons for not coming by, but why have you been visiting? She’s got nothing to do with you.” He said in a defensive tone. Sesshomaru huffed in false amusement. “Ha, don’t make me laugh, you barely even know the woman, how can you question my visiting when you didn’t even try.” He said. Inuyasha snarled at him. “Get off my back, I couldn't do anything about that, I was asleep for 50 years, how could I?”

He defended himself, his fist clenching in frustration. Sesshomaru nearly smirked but his face stayed unreadable, he then immediately shot back. “How pathetic.” He said in a disgusted voice. Inuyasha’s eyes widen. “Wh-what?” Inuyasha questioned. Sesshomaru continued on. “You're a disgrace of a man, what kind of a pathetic excuse is that? You’ve been freed by that human woman for quite some time now, you could’ve made an appearance, but you wanted to play ‘pet’ with two human women.” He said in a lecturing tone.

Inuyasha was left speechless, he didn’t know how to defend himself, all he could do was drop his head as he silently cursed himself. Sesshomaru observed him for a moment before his stare seemed to harden slightly. “You dare come out to me, in this pitiful state, and order me to give you answers? Preposterous. You’re a bigger fool than I thought you were, Inuyasha.” He degraded. When Inuyasha never gave an answer, Sesshomaru lost his hard glare and he closed his eyes in a dismissive matter, before he walked forward, stalking past Inuyasha.

He barely got 5 steps past him before Inuyasha called out to him. “WAIT!” He called out. Sesshomaru stopped, his eyes opened, but he never turned towards him. Inuyasha took his pause as his moment to speak. “Instead of lecturing me, can ya just give me an answer to my question?” He asked in an annoyed voice. Sesshomaru stayed silent, and Inuyasha growled, he opened his mouth to complain but Sesshomaru spoke up. “My business with her has nothing to do with you, but ask your pointless question, and if I deem it fit, I’ll give an answer.” He said.

Inuyasha studied his back for a moment before he asked his question. “Why do you come to visit? She told me it was because you wanted answers to Tessaiga, but now you have your answers, so why bother to still come by?” He asked. The silence between them stretched on for a moment, the tension was high, yet it remained suspiciously unreadable, but it wasn’t a good kind of tension.

Sesshomaru suddenly started walking again, seeming to disregard Inuyasha’s question. Inuyasha glared at his brother’s back. “SESSHOMARU!! ANSWER MY DAMN QUESTION!!” He shouted in anger, his fists clench in frustration, he was powerless to beat the answer out of Sesshomaru, so he was just forced to yell, but he was shocked when Sesshomaru’s voice suddenly rang out to him. “You already know the answer, I’m sure she already told you, about our history.” He said as he walked. Inuyasha stared after him in wonderment, thinking over his words.

“I already know? What the hell does that mean?” He asked himself aloud, he refocused on Sesshomaru once more, noticing that he was beginning to vanish into the darkness. “HEY!! COME BACK AND EXPLAIN DAMMNIT!!” He shouted as he gave chase after him. Sesshomaru kept his same pace, it was slow to him, but it was causing Inuyasha to huff in exhaustion. “Wait, dammit Sesshomaru.” He huffed as he leaned against a tree, he silently cursed his human body as he stared at Sesshomaru. Once he got his breath back he gave chase once more.

They kept up this chase for a while, Sesshomaru never sped up, and Inuyasha kept having to stop but he wasn’t stopping as much as he was when the chase began. Eventually, Sesshomaru stopped in a clearing of the woods, the wind blowing his garments and hair back, as he seemed to stare at nothing. Inuyasha huffed, as he entered the clearing with Sesshomaru. He stood there for a moment, a tired glare in his eyes as he stared at Sesshomaru. They stayed in their spots for a moment longer, before Inuyasha walked over towards him.

“Sesshomaru, you’re an ass in a half, ya know that?” He huffed out an insult as he walked next to Sesshomaru, but he kept some distance from him. He glared at Sesshomaru a little longer, before he stared towards where Sesshomaru seemed to be in a trance. His eyes slightly widen when he saw his childhood home. “The hell? Why are we here?” He asked. Sesshomaru’s eyes slightly lowered in annoyance but he remained calm. “Shut up, and watch.” He ordered. Inuyasha looked over at him in question before he looked back at the hut. They watched as they seem you exit the home. You stretched your arms high above your head before you walked outwards from your home.

“It’s mom, what is she doing out here for?” Inuyasha asked as he watched you. Sesshomaru never gave an answer, but instead, he kept on watching so Inuyasha did the same. They watched as you walked into the field until you suddenly crouched. You seemed to be doing something. Inuyasha stared on a little more before he shot Sesshomaru a septic stare. “You’ve been watching her? What are ya, some kind of creep? I would expect this from Miroku, but not from you Sesshomaru.” He accused as he stared at Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru almost rolled his eyes at Inuyasha’s words.

“Be quiet you fool.” He said in an annoyed voice. Inuyasha stared at him questionably before he looked back over toward you. You stood back up, what seemed to be flowers bunched up in your hands, they were beautiful white flowers, that seemed to glow. You then walked back to your hut, once in front of it, you sat down on a little bench, the flowers still in your hands. Inuyasha blinked as he stared on. “What am I supposed to learn, asshat?” He shot in annoyance. Sesshomaru suddenly began to walk forward, never answering Inuyasha’s question.

Inuyasha watched him with a confused stare, before he huffed, placed his hands in his sleeves, and silently followed Sesshomaru. The closer they got, the more they could make out the loving smile on your face. You suddenly looked up, spotting Sesshomaru and surprisingly Inuyasha. You blinked in shock and confusion before your smile grew joyous. Inuyasha stared at your smile, he had never seen that look on your face before. It was joy, but it was more happier than joy.

You scooted over on the bench till you were in the middle of it and you patted both spots on either side of you. “Sesshomaru, Inuyasha. I am so happy that you both came down together to visit me.” You happily said. Inuyasha was confused, he stopped walking when Sesshomaru did. Your smile never left your face, and Sesshomaru spoke up. “You seem to be fairing well, hahaoya.” He said in his usual monotone voice, but his eyes shined fondness. Inuyasha stepped back in shock at Sesshomaru’s words. “Huh!?” He confusingly called. He went unnoticed by you and Sesshomaru.

Your eyes widen at his words. Disbelief on your face from what you heard, your breathing was shaky and your hands shook as they came up to clench together in front of your fluttering heart. “Yes, I have been very well, On.” You shakily said as you smiled. Inuyasha stared dumbfounded at the exchange. Sesshomaru walked towards you, he took a seat next to you on the bench, making you smile at him warmly. You looked over at Inuyasha, seeing his confusion and you chuckled. “Come, come. Sit here, Inuyasha.” You said as you patted the spot next to you. He remained frozen for a moment longer before he came back to his senses.

“What the hell is going on?” He asked in irritation as he glared at you both. You and Sesshomaru stared up at him for a moment in silence before Sesshomaru closed his eyes and you giggled. “HEY!! DON’T IGNORE ME!!” He shouted as his fingers twitched. You stared at him with a sweet stare. “Come and sit, Inuyasha, it’s a joyous night after all.” You said, your voice was cheerful. Inuyasha’s glare left and it was replaced with a shocked face. “But… why?” He asked. Sesshomaru stared up at Inuyasha, an amused gleam in his eyes. “Yes, little brother, come join hahaoya and I.” He teased. You cheer at his words as you wrapped your arms around Sesshomaru’s arm.

Inuyasha glared heatedly at Sesshomaru before he huffed and he pointed an accusing finger at Sesshomaru. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m on to you, Sesshomaru!!” He said in a defensive voice. Sesshomaru turned his face away from Inuyasha, but he remained silent. In his defense, you glare at Inuyasha. “Would you stop and just sit down already!!” You scolded, Inuyasha backed away in slight fear but he grumbled and sat down next to you.

You smiled once more when he finally sat down. You all sat in silence, just… enjoying each other's presence. But it didn’t last long before a slightly stronger wind blew, causing your flowers to be blown from your lap. “OH NO!! MY FLOWERS!!” You shouted in panic as they were blown away by the wind. You were so happy to finally be able to cuddle with Sesshomaru, that you forgot to hold them down. “Oh...” You sighed sadly as they went up into the air. Inuyasha stared on along with Sesshomaru, they watched your flowers blow into sky, watching as they seemed to blend into the starry sky.

Inuyasha spoke up. “Don’t worry, you can always pick more.” He said, trying to comfort your worries over the flowers, but it only seemed to make you sadder as you sank into your seat. “No, they only bloom on the night of the new moon…. And those were the only ones that bloom around here.” You explained as you sighed sadly. Inuyasha stared at you a little longer before he looked up at the flowers that blew away. Your hold onto Sesshomaru’s arm loosen as you placed your hands in your lap, Sesshomaru briefly glanced at you before he looked back up towards the flowers, his gaze narrowed and he stood up.

Both you and Inuyasha looked up at him in question. “Sesshomaru?” You questioned, but he never answered as he suddenly shot off into the air. Both you and Inuyasha stared on in shock and confusion as he flew up toward the flowers. You stared on in wonderment while Inuyasha scoffed and he snatched his head off. “Tch, showoff.” He muttered. Once all the flowers were captured by Sesshomaru, he gracefully floated down, he landed a few feet away from you both.

You stayed seated, and watch patiently as he walked towards you and Inuyasha. He presented the flowers to you, they were in perfect condition, and they seemed to glow even brighter in his hand. Your eyes studied their brightness, and you gave a knowing smile before you grabbed them gently from his hold. “Thank you, Sesshomaru.” You kindly thanked him. He said nothing as he closed his eyes and he quietly took his seat next to you once more.

Inuyasha glared over at him before he looked away and huffed. You smiled down at your flowers, the glow from them seemed to dim before they lightened again. Inuyasha looked over at the flowers in confusion. “Why are they doing that?” He asked. You smiled at his question. “They’re reacting to Sesshomaru’s touch.” You explained, this seemed to catch Sesshomaru’s attention as he too looked at the flowers. “But why? If anything they should’ve shriveled up and died.” He said with an unimpressed look on his face. Sesshomaru scoffed at his words before he asked you a question.

“Why did they react?” He asked, you stared down at the flowers watching their whiteness brighten and fade. “Because they’re reacting to your heart. It would seem that you’re opening up more and more to your Father’s wishes for you.” You explained. Sesshoaru’s and Inuyasha’s eyes widen at your words. You all remained silent after that, watching the flowers pulse. They both seemed to be in a trance, each lost in their own worlds. They suddenly stopped pulsing and Inuyasha blinked. “Why’d they stop?” He asked, he almost sounded disappointed at the fact.

“Because the main source isn’t directing touching them anymore.” You explained. Inuyasha gave a sly look towards Sesshomaru, but his brother seemed to sense him as he turned his face away from him. The silence was broken by you. “These are demon flowers. They’re known as Heiwa Lily, they adsorb overwhelming feelings. Such as Love, Sadness, and Hatred. They only adsorb demonic energy.” You further explained.

They both quietly listened to your words, Sesshomaru’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If they can only adsorb demonic emotions, why do they bloom on the night of the new moon?” Inuyasha asked. You smiled. “Because they don’t want to accidentally absorb the energy of a half-demon.” You explained. Inuyasha looked over at you in curiosity. “Damn, even the damn flowers are picky?” He asked in annoyance as he glared at the flowers.

Sesshomaru huffed in amusement and Inuyasha instantly glared at him. “What’s so funny?” He said. Sesshomaru closed his eyes. “Nothing is humorous, just that even the flowers know when a filthy half-breed is in the area.” He said. A vein bulged on Inuyasha’s fist as he glared at Seshomaru with pure rage. “Why you?” He said in an angered tone. Sesshomaru’s eyes opened and he looked over at Inuyasha. “Got something to say, human?” He asked, a tease in his tune. “You bet I do, and this human is gonna kick your royal ass!!” Inuyasha said in anger as he cracked his knuckles. Sesshomaru grew a challenging glare in his eyes as he stared at Inuyasha. “I’d like to see you get one hit in.” He said.

Inuyasha growled and Sesshomaru glared, you sighed sadly at their antics. “So much for a story.” You sadly said, as the sound of punches landing on skin sounded out and Inuyasha cried out in pain. ‘A-HAOW!!!!” He shouted. Sesshomaru scoffed. “Hmph, pitiful, I barely even grazed you.” He taunted. Inuyasha shouted back. “YEAH RIGHT!!! YOU DAMN NEAR KILLED ME!!” He shouted. Sesshomaru remained silent for a moment before he spoke again. “You’re exaggerating.” He stated. “HAH!?” Inuyasha said. “Hmph, If I had actually tried, I promise you that you wouldn’t still be breathing.” He claimed. “WHY YOU!!!” Inuyasha shouted,

You smiled as you listened to their bantering, the flowers seemed to brighten, soaking in the energy emitting from Sesshomaru. ‘He’s so content, till he doesn’t even notice his demonic energy leaking out.’ You thought as you watched the flowers glow to nearly a blinding white before they began to disintegrate, they turned into purple lights, that floated up into the sky like fireflies. You watched as they floated off into the sky. ‘For the first time, in a long time. Sesshomaru is surrounded by family.’ You thought, as your heart bloomed with love. You sighed happily as you leaned back, causing the brothers to halt in their bantering.

They looked down at you in curiosity, watching you closely. “I’m so happy. Both of my boys are here, together, for the first time ever.” You said in a soft voice, as you smiled. Inuyasha smiled at you while Sesshomaru’s eyes soften. All was quiet after that, as you all three for the first time, just enjoyed each other's company.

[theodosiani]

LET'S GET REACQUAINTED ! hey rpc ! lets be honest, datv brought us all back in one way or another either you're a veteran or new, i'm sure there is stuff that has changed or we don't know each other so let's have a game about it to reintroduce each other ! repost this to do the same & tag some pals if you want !

Name / Penname: Sawyer for veterans, did you go by something previously ? if so what was it if you're comfortable sharing that name &/or penname: Used to be known as Sarah, don't mind if folks know but Don't Call Me That. age & gender( if comfortable sharing ): Nonbinary, 29 what was your first dragon age muse: I will be so forreal I don't remember if Averill or Varania's blog came first but I thiiiink it was one of the two of them? do you have any other darp muses / blogs: I run @orxna and I used to write on @rattrunner and @birdfacedelf, and several other muses that I've since moved over to my multi here. what muses / blogs do you have outside of darp: None right now thedas has two moons: true | false - Two moon truther I don't care what any of the newer media says

single line, para, or novella: Honestly, I'm pretty open for anything. I am a person who may spit out a multi para at you out of nowhere and if we haven't agreed to a length beforehand do not feel pressured to match my legnth. I just can't shut up about my muses sometimes. plotting or winging it: I like to plot a lot, I think it's fun to talk about how our muses interact and I think it can give more depth and nuance to any future spontaneous interactions. That being said, I also like just stuff out of the blue it's fun and brings in variety. fighting threads, you bold enough for them?: Depends entirely on the muse but yeah, I do like them. I do like to have some idea of how they're mostly going to go, and I'm ALWAYS happy to have a muse lose if yours is understandably more powerful. I actually think it's quite fun to find creative ways to throw my muses at brick walls so to speak. The desperation builds character. what content warnings are on your blog?: There's a lot of body horror potential from Several muses, I've got blood mages and demons and eldritch abominations so it's not something I shy away from. I do also have some level of child abuse in several of my muses' histories along with themes of slavery and finding personhood after. what things do you need tagged for your comfort?: Just general epilepsy related tags. Flashing gifs, epilepsy warning, etc.

shipping preferences: single | multi | no ship | polyshipshipping boundaries: For the most part, as long as a person shows pretty basic respect of not autoshipping, and actually checking in with me? I'm real open for shipping. I love smashing our barbie dolls together, I like to be able to talk with folks about the ships so like communication is key and all that but I'm not particularly finicky, I guess? I also love all varieties of ships be they romantic or platonic. favorite ships in dragon age: I love HoF/Sten, any HoF I simply don't care it's just a good ship whether it's queer platonic or romantic, I am a VarricHawke truther. I did not like Solavellan when the game first came out but because of all the wonderful rpers in darp I'm pretty feral for it now lol. favorite ships from the rpc( tag your friends ships ! ): My fucking KINGDOM for Solas(@theharellan) and Ian(@theshirallen). I have shipped that shit for almost my entire time in Darp which is buckwild. I love Inara(@valorcorrupt) and Alistair, Merc has given me so much emotional damage over on Orxna about it.

fun facts about yourself that may have changed since in the past ten years( when inquisition dropped )--

This is so hard, lol. Well, I don't live in the south anymore and am, in fact, like an hour from canada now. I also work on a whole ass Farm now, it's pretty great.

be honest, did you miss darp. come on now--

Yeah, I really got my legs writing in darp I think it very much helped shape who I am as a writer. Definitely helped me fine tune what kinds of characters and tropes I enjoy and work on my collaboration with cowriters just as passionate about this series as I am.

challenge round ! put a small top five things unrelated to dragon age !

I have Too Many birds. Three geese, one gander, twenty-six hens, and one rooster.

I also have too many dogs. I have four Hungarian puli and two Scottish deerhound.

I'm working towards getting my vet etch certification in the next few years.

I currently work at a brick fire oven pizza place making pizza and I'm really good at stretching dough HOWEVER I cannot toss dough. I don't have the pizza rizz necessary but I make a really good sausage mushroom alfredo pizza.

Snow was put upon this earth to specifically inconvenience me every morning when I must do bird chores.

tagging: I am really bad at tagging because I have a horrible time keeping track of people who've already answered so just steal if you wanna

[spontaneousglitterbees]

Welcome to the New Age

[TAPP AU Masterpost]

The following fic goes into descriptions of canon character death and resulting Angst; reader discretion is advised. NDRV3 spoilers ahead!

--------------

Your eyes have pried themselves open three times now, wide, still seeing nothing.

The green-grey lights clouding the hangar feel scalding hot on still-clammy skin. You know you should be cold; freezing, in fact, but the Strike-Nine curled back a finger of the monkey’s paw on your behalf. You wonder if your gentle exhales fog the underside of the metal slab looming over you from this distance. It’s not as though you can check.

The smell of motor oil, sawdust, and far too much copper will probably never leave your lungs.

You find yourself wishing you had control of your hands. The lid of the press has been descending for ages. A mechanical whirrrr of struggling gears loops over and over, notes discordant with themselves in a canon, yet it never actually gets any closer. Deep down, you know it never will. Misery is kind of the point of punishment.

There’s little else to do but figure that much out. Your back has adhered to the spot where you lie (and lie, and lie-and-lie-and-lie), bleeding through Kaito’s borrowed jacket that will invariably see much worse. Stuck. Stationary. You can’t even fidget, let alone etch an epitaph in the gummy-rubber texture of the hangar floor. It’s nearly enough to make you consider whether Yonaga really was right.

… You miss Angie, really.

You miss a lot of people.

At least they aren’t here, echoes the thought through the barren room.

You briefly indulge the thought of cyan light streaking in through a rising garage door, the sound of footsteps smacking dents into soft, dirt-encrusted polyurethane with urgency. The shift of fabric against fabric of a suit as the detective drops to his knees at your side. He would be within arm’s reach, if your arm would move. Of course you can’t comfort him now that you want to.

Misery. What part of ‘punishment’ do you not understand?

What’s worse is the ghost of his hand over the side of the metal slab. It doesn’t adhere to logical geometry anymore; it is simultaneously still lowering, and hovering just above the tip of your nose, and snapped as a trap over your still-lying form. You are both the scattered remnants of a human being and perfectly fine, whole, all of your vitals approximately where they’re supposed to be. Hell is a quantum state where everything is both true and false simultaneously, and you cannot open the box from the inside.

His hand ghosts over your press (it’s part of you, now, as much of you smeared on its hidden surface as lying beneath), and you want to force it open. Not to show him your last neat parlor trick, but to knock him flat on his ass and get him away from you. The world cannot be yours, but this hangar is. You’ve carved out the territory in your own blood. Get your own headstone, you cheap bastards.

You want to laugh. You do, because if you aren’t laughing you’re crying, and if you have to hear your own strangled voice resound up over the catwalks and metal beams to the high ceiling and back you will start a one-man riot.

Then you are reminded that you can’t laugh, because you lack any control at all of this body you’re locked in, and you loathe that you’re being kept from the keys.

If you didn’t know better, you’d swear Shuichi just said something. That’s a lie, of course, because Shuichi is alive, and outside, and even if he isn’t he’s certainly not headed wherever it is you are now. You are never going to see Saihara again, and the ghosts you hear pounding on the inert slab with a calloused metal CLANG! are simply the demons here to torment you. They’re mean. Saihara-chan is so mean.

As is Momota-chan, and the two of them together gathered around gawking at your punctured chrysalis are twice as bad as either alone.

“I know you’ll pull through this! I believe in you!” Liar.

“You aren’t alone. I’m sorry.” Liar.

“Do you want to die?”

Well.

You do not know what is keeping the wraith from reaching through and grabbing you by the throat. You’d welcome the change of pace, at this point, dizzy with the anticipation, sick to your stomach without recourse. You know better, really, but part of you is certain you can feel cranial fluid leaking from your ears and sizzling on this oversized hotplate. You’re tired.

You are tired, and vaguely aware you’ll never wake up.

(Momota-chan is mean, but it’s a lie to call him cruel. If he really wanted you to suffer, he wouldn’t have taken that third bolt. It should have lodged in your heart. If he only wanted to avoid Harukawa’s condemnation he could have just shoved you away, but he took the shot for you instead. At the last minute, he’s won your game: he’s cemented a space in your thoughts, for what little life you had left and for eternity afterward.)

Here you lie at the start of a little journey through forever, and you are already sick of it. So much for your willpower, your determination, any conceivable quality that would make you anything beyond a piss-poor leader; DICE wouldn’t take you back.

You can’t even remember their faces anymore.

(Did you ever know them in the first place?)

You have eons upon eons here to lay by yourself— unbothered at last, no intervening idiocy to be found, you did it, you pushed everyone away. Isn’t this what you wanted at the end? Eons to ruminate and reflect on every bad thing you have ever done.

At least it keeps you busy.

(Did they ever have faces for you to know?)

The killing game becomes a blur. You find yourself pausing and re-playing the memories like an old scratched-up DVD of a movie lovingly, clumsily cobbled together by a clueless hand with all the default settings enabled. Fond memories of fifteen classmates crowded around a long breakfast table project onto the metal sheet above you in rough camcorder quality. Trembling, home video taken with unsteady hands where all ten pixels slide in mesmerizing array, you took a long sip of grape soda and nobody spoke to you. It feels correct. Disappointing, maybe, but this is the way things are.

They offered you a plate. You, as usual, try to quietly refuse (because you are a burdensome child, because everything they try to get you to eat makes you feel more nausea than not eating at all, because you are unreasonable, because good children cannot taste the consistency of something more than its flavor, because you make problems on purpose but never in a fun way) and are swiftly overturned. You know your place is not to make demands. Some people need to have their hand held through life, and you had the fortune to have one extended to you before you became un-salvageable. You know better than to reach out for it now. There is no point even twitching your fingers anymore; that gracious hand never reaches back these days.

You aren’t sure why you brought your camcorder to such a scattered excuse for a family dinner. The sheen of novelty still hasn’t worn off. It was a birthday present, after all, and even if neither it nor you are capable of making anything worthwhile the idea that you might drives you to preserve the memory. It keeps you busy. Everyone in the house takes dinner to a separate space. Yours is currently sitting on your corner cushion with an opaque water bottle secretly filled to the brim with gas-station soda. You’ve grown to hate the lingering syrup stuck to your tongue, but it keeps you awake and you can always drown it out with another swig. After a long day, it hits. Not good or well, but precisely where it needs to.

(One in the upper right arm, one in the center of your back, and one …?)

Where is everyone?

Where are you?

You can imagine the pound of footsteps one-after-another launching you up the staircase, pulling the door too-softly shut behind you. You have nothing worth hiding, of course, but you can’t very well have anyone seeing your work-in-progress; it has to be perfect. You can almost feel the button cave in beneath your fingertip as you release the USB-A to plug your little toy into the computer. The spring seems crunchy today. You aren’t sure why you shiver; it’s still the tail-end of June.

This is going to be the one. Maybe the footage isn’t much, but if anyone can spice it up, it’ll be you! You have an eye for making things engaging, so you’ve been told (and never shown by anyone under the age of whatever-impossible-age-teachers-are, sixteen at least, right?) but this one, this one will be the one to really grab attention, and people will like it, and if you’re lucky they might even talk to you. All according to plan.

You say this every time you invent a new magnum opus, sure, but you have a good feeling this time. First, you show your classmates your movie. They’ll watch it, be so impressed they just have to gush to you about it, and you can keep them on the hook long enough to start to get to know them. That’s when you hit them with the promise of friendship, and you all can do all kinds of things from there. Hangout spots in big trees in the park (one of them has to be tall enough to help you climb, you’re quick but your upper-body strength isn’t enough to get you beyond the first couple branches yet), codenames, secret handshakes; you can play games together! You can wear matching outfits, and make movies, and make more friends, and they’ll all look at you and you’ll hold them all together, because if there’s one thing you’re good at it’s clinging to your status quo in the face of overwhelming odds. It’ll be incredible, you just know it. Maybe if you do well enough, there will be enough of you to play Werewolf, or Mysterium, or Coup, or maybe you’ll put together a full party—

The d20 you’ve been stimming with, idly smoothing over between the fingers of your right hand, comes down with a clatter and bounces across your desk. Huh. Strange.

Of all the shiny math rocks in your collection, you don’t remember any bright magenta dice.

Flecks of hot pink slough off on each impact with the hard surface. Plink, plink, plink.

Clack.

You try to blink the encroaching color out of your vision.

Natural one.

You can feel the stress limit of your bones down to the fourth decimal place. You tense up, attempting to brace for impact, but absolutely nothing is touching you while it rends you limb-from-limb and keeps going. The white-hot agony you feel as splinters of you break free, each cell another part of you desperate to roll out from under here and get-out-get-out-get-out, even if they can’t do it together, supersedes the temptation to pretend someone is outside waiting for you.

No. You may be angry with them, or disappointed, or at the very least uncertain what it is you feel for them, but you even hope Momota is well out of the splash-zone. Off of that awful catwalk and its CLANGK-ker-kCLANGs. Off with his sidekicks, somewhere. Maybe they’re sitting in a courtyard, and Kaito helps Shuichi into a tree (Maki had beaten them both to it and decided to watch them figure out the logistics) and they watch the stars move overhead together, breathing in the crisp night air in late August, and pretty soon you’ll have that new project of yours in a state to show off….

You find you take refuge in the idea of stars. They’re cosmic happenstance, ambivalent the same way as the rest of the universe, distant and impersonal, but even a static image is still new to you. You were always too busy looking at other people to look up. The only way you could survive out there was to meticulously study the fine details of an expression in your every conversation. You streamlined the tricks and tells that passed for signals into your muscle memory because, unlike for most, they were never innate for you; you had to be certain to echo emotional information to people in a way they were certain to understand. It had to be perfect. Why would you ever waste the time to look up at a universe that did not have an opinion for you to care about?

Now it’s all you can do. Lying on your back, eyes open, or shut, or both-and-neither, you stare unseeing. Somewhere past the hydraulic press, beyond the high ceiling, beyond the LCD-sky, there are stars. You’re looking their way now. Forever. The survivors will see them for you.

You do not care if it is a lie. You choose, against your better instinct, to believe it.

The remains of your nerves seem to have gone supernova; what was the worst pain you ever knew melts away into nothing. You don’t feel anything at all. Not relief. Not floating. Just the absence of sensation.

Before you have a chance to fully process your new state of non-being, blissfully, it seems your tenacity has finally run out. You are surrounded by a bright, white light.

---------------------------------------------------------

Kaito Momota never thought he would be a killer.

Most people tend not to, certainly, though Kaito is well aware he tends to pick more fights than average. It was always a far-flung possibility, technically any young man fit enough to be an astronaut can generate the force vector required to do something everyone involved will regret, but if you had asked him. Well. Within the first minute of uploading to TAPP, during which “Kaito Momota” Began, he would likely have been too dazed to respond with much other than confusion. And the second minute after being uploaded to TAPP, during which significant alterations to the code finished uploading and “Kaito Momota” as he is known today Began, he never would have thought himself morally capable of it.

But it was, by strictly literal definition, a murder. A murder he committed. Successfully.

Though, also in a strictly literal sense, that murder saved his victim’s life. Had Kokichi gone much longer without dying, the likelihood his data would reflect the symptoms of blood loss and poison damage in the physical world (or worse yet corrupt irretrievably) would have risen dramatically by the second. 'If anything,’ Momota mutters under his breath, 'you should be thanking me.’

But Kaito didn’t know that at the time. Kokichi still doesn’t, and it was his idea.

The irreverent young man kicks his feet up onto the folding chair in front of him. A mass of sheets and blankets threaten to swallow the still-breathing shape in the hospital bed whole. Ouma practically blends in, already ghastly pale on a good day, the only color to his face a deep, bruised purple under the eyes.

Rantaro will be happy (or, at least, interested) to know Kokichi’s eyes are open. Again. For the third time in as many weeks, the kid remains almost entirely unresponsive save for a blank stare at the ceiling. After the second false alarm, Kaito has steadily been… no. No, the improbable is possible, even if it’s hard to keep spirits high. There’s still a chance these little fits indicate the Ultimate Pain-in-the-Ass is at least a little closer to waking up. He has half a mind to gently coax those violet eyes closed because it would really suck to wake up to a horrible case of dry-eye, right? himself. Then it looks like he’s just sleeping for once in his life. Kaito can hardly fault him for that.

Granted, he has to mentally prepare himself to do it; Kokichi is alive, his heart monitor is right there, and yet still Kaito searches for the slow rise and fall of his chest. It’s not like touching a dead body. In fact, can’t you just hear him insist you’re flirting with him, screwing up the oxygen mask laughing, ‘nishishishishi’….

Kaito is no longer afraid he will be haunted by Kokichi. He already is.

“Only a grade-a bastard can make you miss a sound that irritating, so you gotta get back here and atone. Got it?”

He does not expect a reply. He leaves room for one anyway.

“… Do you do this on purpose,” Kaito asks the smattering of abstract brushstrokes hanging in a frame on the opposite wall. Ouma is… too fragile, like this.  The thought ambles forward. Nothing good comes of saying it out loud, he knows, but there is no-one around to hear but the boy who can’t. "I swear, Ouma, if you found a way to lie about this too,"

… Then what? What will you do, Kaito? Would you get your hands dirty, again, this time for keeps? Is that the kind of person you are? Is it who you’ve become, or is some degree of violence-as-problem-solving innate within you? So deeply ingrained that the person you used to be was willing to be replaced for an opportunity to be something he could be proud of…

Kaito scrolls through a custom RSS feed on his phone. It keeps his line of sight away from the center of the room and blocks out the thoughts he’d rather not consider with an unending wall of text.  He mindlessly flicks his finger over the glass, ignoring three-then-four message notifications flashing at the top. It’s no secret where you are. You have come here almost every morning since the rest of you emerged from TAPP and plunged back into society. All of us make it out means all of us, no matter what.

He still believes that. He still curses his previous self, though, for promising it. It took him a good five minutes on the staircase to get up to the second floor, and every step hammered in the thought that much more: if you can’t do this, what else can’t you do anymore? You can’t, be the, SHSL Astronaut if, you stop part, partway up the stairs to breathe. You’re making terrible time leaning on the rail like that. Thing is, doubling down, makes it worse and. Hh. It took a puff of his inhaler to smooth out his breathing. God, if you can’t do this then what do you honestly expect to do for anyone else?

Besides, when on-record has anyone managed to tell Kokichi Ouma what to do?

Most of the class has accepted that Ouma is going to die. It makes the most sense. Even the school is questioning what to do with him. Something about an inability to track down a next-of-kin, for reasons that are certainly none of his business (Kaito will definitely be listening out for). But he has a vice grip on hope. The impossible is possible, after all!

(… Even if that’s only a lie you tell to yourself to keep going.)

If there’s one thing you know about Kokichi, it’s that the guy does not know when to quit.

Besides, it’s nice to have somewhere to go in the mornings. Kaito still insists on getting moving at oh-too-early, so used to exercise drills he may-or-may-not have ever actually had to do that he naturally wakes an hour or two before sunrise. The distinct feeling of his chest being scraped out with a wire brush has only barely deterred him from insisting on a morning jog. Even then, it only worked in combination with a couple trips to Tsumiki’s and the persistent chastising from his sidek–

His. Friends.

They’ve always been his friends, of course. But crashing back to Earth, the real Earth, and landing in a strange translucent pod, meeting the concerned eyes of curiously spectating-specters he watched die makes a man feel significantly less in-control of a situation, you know?

(You had just killed a child. And it reminded you, strapped in for one last ride, that you were also a child. You all were.

You weren’t sure what exactly you expected would happen once you finally succumbed to the itch ingrained in your lungs, but ‘blearily sit up to see a room of your walking, chattering dead classmates and your unconscious very not-dead sidekicks, then Angie cheerfully beckoning everyone to crowd around you and help you stand before they cash in on their bets’ was not on your bingo card. It also clarified absolutely nothing. Ryoma? Kaede?

… Why was everyone passing whatever they’re trading to Miu?

“Where’s 'kichi?” You asked the clowder of teens before you really registered I am both alive and can speak without spitting up my own blood. Nobody else seemed quite as confounded by that information as you were. They were all far too busy looking at one another in dead silence, expressions morphing with slow-encroaching horror.

Kaede stepped up to break the tension.

“We thought you were the victim.”)

Friends. Not sidekicks. He has to keep reminding himself.

His best friends keep chastising him for jogging when he really shouldn’t, but a little common sense never kept Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars sedentary for long! The infirmary isn’t even that far from the dorms, allowing for a reasonable, he swears, leisurely walk over. He even gets to pass through the courtyard garden, taking in the fresh air.

The heavy, humid late-summer air.

They can’t all be winners.

Most mornings, his routine starts early. The kind of early where:

About 4:30 AM, to the minute without an alarm clock, he jolts awake and rushes to get acceptably dressed, hurrying down the stairs. All the while, he checks his pockets meticulously for his phone-wallet-keys, in that order.

5:05 AM he opens the door of the dorm complex and realizes that it is raining today, and he is wearing slippers.

5:11 AM he comes back up to the interior welcome mat of the building in shoes less likely to fall apart in this weather (now that their uniforms are, presumably, not infinitely re-stocked) and with the foresight to grab an umbrella on the way out and under the jet-black pre-dawn sky.

5:15 AM Kaito is reminded that the rest of humanity sure does still exist, huh, because some part of it has deemed it perfectly acceptable to spit out their gum on the sidewalk instead of an inch over in the grass like a marginally more reasonable person. Incredible what a lack of the looming threat of death as punishment for basically any infraction does to your manners.

He does not think of how Ouma would probably do the same thing with clear glue in the most highly-trafficked spots on campus, seeding it in intersections like flypaper and letting foot traffic carry the adhesive to every part of the school by lunch. Kaito does not snicker to himself imagining how quickly that kid would convince the upperclassmen not to even try messing with Class 79, characterizing the caliber of shenanigans they’d invite immediately. Those fireworks would absolutely not be any fun to watch.

5:17 AM he faintly recalls he’d intended to grab a granola bar from the kitchen on his way out, and resigns to just picking up breakfast at a vending machine instead.

At 5:23 AM he knocks his forehead gently into the plexiglass, realizing why Kiibo hated these things so much. It’s spit the same note back at him at least five times, now, and he is not about to try and ask it for change. Instead, he picks up an energy bar for the receptionist who opens the door for him and a Panta with everything else. Just in case. (Shit, they’re out of purple. What’s second place? Peach? Fuck it, he’s lucky you’re too invested to ditch the machine all together)

Culminating in arriving at the hospital at 5:30 AM, setting the energy bar on the front desk as he heads directly for the stairs. He could take the elevator, sure, but he’ll cite the blinding-brightness of the fluorescence compared with the lamp-lit path he just came from (and really mean that no, I can’t, because I still have some pride, damn it, let me have this)

Every morning.

Something like that, at least.

Physical therapy doesn’t start until 6:00, so the extra half-hour he’s free to do as he likes. He’d like to hang out with a friend, but he has the misfortune of being the only morning-person in a band of night-owls. Thus, if he wants familiarity, he has to head up to talk at Kokichi. The peace and quiet up there (and soft beep-ing of a heart monitor that proves what Kaito has been trying to tell himself since the moment he woke up) is soothing enough to take a nap in the visitor’s chair. If Ouma minds, he hasn’t said anything about it.

(Hah.)

So, until he can fall asleep, Kaito scrolls through a feed full of space news and photography. He’s taken to reading the horoscopes posted in the ‘for fun’ section of his favorite astronomy blog out loud first. “Because it’s supposedly space-related and also complete horseshit, so it’s perfect,” Kaito said to the pockmarked ceiling. In reality, it’d initially been a mis-click on account of his still-shaking hands. He’d been preoccupied trying to banish the memory of condensation on a painted steel handrail slicking his palms with either his or Kokichi’s blood, probably both.

It made him laugh.

“I have no idea when your birthday is. You know that? You could be any of these if it’d get you free ice cream, huh? So we’ll cover the bases. And if you don’t like it, just tell me to stop.”

He’s not sure whether or not he really believes Kokichi might hear him. But if funerals are for the living, so is cracking the kind of joke you think a distant friend might like. One of these days, he might be able to laugh with you about it. He’s read down the list every morning since. Something in the routine of it is grounding; a signal that the day really has started.

This particular day, Kaito leans back in the chair and reads off the horoscopes between bites of granola. The unopened soda bottle rests at the foot of Kokichi’s bed.

“Big changes are coming for you this fall, Gemini. As tempting as it might be to reminisce about times gone by, the slow pace of the dog days of summer are a perfect time to start planning ahead. This week, things snap into focus. Work on strengthening your connections– you have more of them than you think.”

Kaito yawns.

“Jeez, Kichi, I think I could probably write this shit. There’s an Ultimate Programmer a year ahead of us, do you think anyone would notice if they set up a bot?” he half-laughs, looking over toward the bed. It hardly seems restful, hooked up to so many machines, but Kokichi looks like he needs any scrap of sleep he can g—

That’s. Weird.

Didn’t you close his eyes already?

Kaito sits up straight, stretching, shaking the drowsy haze from his head before standing up. You’ve got to keep better track of these things. He strides to the side of the bed, a careful hand blotting out the harsh light overhead as the other reaches to carefully

Shut. His, eyes?

But they’re already closed.

“… Ouma?”

The heart monitor picks up pace, a thudding beep-beep-beep-beep startling the SHSL Astronaut back a step or two. Remember your training. Keep a level head, Kaito, he might be having some kind of seizure. That can happen, right? You just need to call in the nurse. Probably nothing they haven’t seen before.

That thought evaporates almost instantly.

As Kaito presses the call button, he’s met with a desperate, terrified shriek. It’s a little muffled through the respirator and after weeks of silence, but the plea is unmistakable.

“WAIT!”

[bills-bible-basics]

WITHOUT ANY APOLOGIES

I am pro-life 100% with no apologies, because God is pro-life. If you are a Christian, think about this, folks. Is modern abortion that much different from the ancient Israelites who shed the innocent blood of their very own sons and daughters, when they sacrificed them to the false gods of ancient Canaan? God HATES the shedding of innocent blood:

"Yea, they sacrificed their sons and their daughters unto devils, And SHED INNOCENT BLOOD, even the blood of their sons and of their daughters, whom they sacrificed unto the idols of Canaan: and the land was polluted with blood."

Psalms 106:37-38, KJV

"These six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, and HANDS THAT SHED INNOCENT BLOOD."

Proverbs 6:16-17, KJV

Abortion is nothing new. People have been killing babies for thousands of years. Their methods have just gotten “better”. Consider this verse from the Book of Enoch. Kasdeja is a fallen angel:

". . . And the fifth was named Kasdeja: this is he who showed the children of men all the wicked smitings of spirits and demons, and the smitings of the embryo in the womb, that it may pass away . . ."

Book of Enoch 69:12

The Bible tells us that children are a blessing from God, and NOT a curse or an inconvenience:

"Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and THE FRUIT OF THE WOMB IS HIS REWARD."

Psalms 127:3, KJV

God was in fact aware of our existence, and even designed us, BEFORE we were physically formed in the womb. Check out these verses:

"Thus saith the LORD, thy redeemer, and HE THAT FORMED THEE FROM THE WOMB, I am the LORD that maketh all things; that stretcheth forth the heavens alone; that spreadeth abroad the earth by myself;"

Isaiah 44:24, KJV

"BEFORE I FORMED THEE IN THE BELLY I KNEW THEE; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations."

Jeremiah 1:5, KJV

"For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them."

Psalms 139:13-16, KJV

Here is more proof that God foreknew us:

"FOR WHOM HE DID FOREKNOW, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren."

Romans 8:29, KJV

"According as he hath chosen us in him BEFORE THE FOUNDATION OF THE WORLD, that we should be holy and without blame before him in love . . . Having predestinated us unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ to himself, according to the good pleasure of his will . . . In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being predestinated according to the purpose of him who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will:"

Ephesians 1:4-5, 11, KJV

Because of our stance regarding abortion, some liberals are quick to label Bible-believing Christians as "religious zealots". Well, let me say this: If "religious zealot" means someone who places God’s Laws and God’s Word above the corrupt laws of men which condone killing unborn babies, then, yes, go ahead and label Christians such as myself as zealots. I will wear the label as a badge of honor. Let me also add that someday when pro-abortionists stand before the Judgement Seat of the God of the Universe, they will finally understand their grave error; but by then, it may be too late!

For additional reading regarding this topic:

Article: "Abortion: The Slaughter of the Innocent":

https://billkochman.com/Articles/abort-01.html

Article: "Murdering Millions by Mail: The Abortion Controversy":

https://billkochman.com/Articles/murdering-millions-by-mail.html

Article: "The Fruit of the Womb":

https://billkochman.com/Articles/fruitwm1.html

[rainbowxocs]

TW: Mentions of religious trauma and child abuse.

Notes by the greatest guy ever~ Me of course.

Name: Michael Elizabeth Ansley.

My parents thought I was going to be a girl- So they had to change my name at the last minute.

Alt Name: Michael Morningstar. Barf-

Special Titles: Crown Prince of Hell, Michael Morningstar. Also Barf. Dr. Michael Ansley, False God, Narrator.

Old Titles: “M”, “God”, “Lord of Darkness”. ALSO Barf-

Username: theliteralantichrist

Nicknames: Mikey, “Emo Boy”, Hero.

Age: 27.

Pronouns: He/They/Rot.

Sexuality: Gay.

Gender: Nonbinary, Gendervoid, HolyGoric. I would describe my gender as a rotting corpse to be honest-

Species: Hybrid (Antichrist.)

Disorders: Panic Disorder, CPTSD, Autism, Insomnia, Bipolar 2, ASPD, Anorexia, Checking OCD.

Physical Disabilities: Blind, Chronic Pain.

Recovering Addictions: LSD, Alcohol, Mushrooms, Self Harm, Nicotine (Vape).

Religion: Atheist. Religions are scams, which I of all people should know-

Job: None, At the moment. ……

Current Major: Pediatrics.

Degrees: Psychology Degree.

Lives in: WV, America, 2034. Country roads.. take me home..

Languages: English.

Height: 4’9” >:(

Race: White.

Ethnicity: Demonic.

Accent: Soft, Southern.

Monster Form: Sharp Claws, Sharp Teeth, Boney Elongated Form, Big Horns, Animalistic.

I don’t like this form..

Powers: Time Travel, Teleporting, Telekinesis, Fire Manipulation, Flight, Summoning, Sucking Life Force/Souls, Hypnosis, Possession, Strings, Necromancy, Omens, Shapeshifting, Mass Destruction.

If I wasn’t lazy I could probably take over the world.

Weapons: Knives.

Strings Form: Pink Spiderweb.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral.

Text Color: Pink, Red when Upset.

Main Animal: Dog.

Main Hobbies: Sewing, Video Games, Fashion/Dressing Up, Crafting, Knitting, Needlefelting.

I like doing things hands on.. It gives me something to do.

Diet: Carnivorous, Raw Diet.

Whether I eat meat or raw meat is a different story- Strawberries are really tasty.

Favorite Drink: Strawberry Shortcake Coffee, Strawberry Chocolate Tea, Hwache, Strawberry Boba, Strawberry Monster Energy.

Favorite Fruit: Watermelon.

Favorite Meal: Pork Brains, Steak Tartar, Gumbo, Sashimi, Spaghetti, Katsudon, Dinosaur Nuggets and Fries, Pancakes, Fruit Sandwiches, Sago Soup.

Favorite Candy: White Chocolate, Gummy Worms, Salt Water Taffy, Konpieto.

Favorite Dessert: Strawberry Shortcake, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Gingerbread Cookies, Strawberry Icecream, Dirt Cake, Pavlova.

Favorite Flower: Pink Forget Me Nots.

Scent: Rose Cologne, Barbie Detangler.

Why do you need to know this about me-

Handedness: Right Handed.

Blood Color: Black, Sometimes Red.

Birthday: December 25th 2007 (Capricorn)

My birthday is… kind of ironic…

Theme:

Playlist:

Fun Facts: Wrote his very own Bible for his religion, has a stuffed animal collection, Has a magical girl collection.

Special Interests: Stardew, Minecraft, Slime Rancher, Animal Crossing, The Sims, Pokémon, Coraline, My Little Pony, Moomin Valley, Strawberry Shortcake, Fairy Princess Minky Momo, Sanrio. :)

Stims: Handflapping, Mouse Cheese, Sensory Cube, Pink Tangle, Pop it Game.

Stimboard: LINK

Moodboard: LINK

Fashionboard: LINK

Comfort Objects: Cat Plush, Cow Pillow Pets, Pink Slime Plush, Pokémon plushies, Killer (Teddy Bear), Gloomy Bear, Bluey Plush.

My Pokémon Team!:

In Games:

Animal Crossing:

Stardew Valley:

(Credit to this portrait maker)

Minecraft Skin: LINK

Family:

Lucifer Morningstar, Elijah Morningstar. (Fathers.) ……

Lilith Morningstar. (Stepmother)

Raven Ansley. (Mother.) :)

Ezequiel Ansley. (Stepfather)

Melanie Ansley (Aunt) …….

Lucy Ferr, Sin Morningstar. (Half Siblings.)

Alexander Leverett. (Adoptive Brother) (Strained.) …..

Immanuel Ansley. (Adoptive Sibling.)

Sam Coleman. (Adoptive Uncle.)

Micah Coleman. (Adoptive Uncle.)

Friends: None. ……..

Romance: None. …….

Enemies: The Starlings.

Pets:

Danger (Tarantula)

Princess (Skeleton Cat)

Brief Personality: Mikey acts tough. For his entire life he has had to manipulate in order to survive. He can usually get what he wants with little effort. But he is, deeply troubled.. Usually he is incredibly chatty but lately he’s just been.. quiet.. He no longer seems to care about much, he’d rather just sit in the silence.

Brief Backstory:

Michael was born out of a prophecy. He was destined to destroy heaven and the earth. However for the time being he was born to his mother and “Father”..

Mikey had a pretty normal childhood for the most part. He was a good kid, he went to church, he played with his toys and didn’t make much of a fuss. However, as he grew older weird occurrences would happen around Michael.

His mother didn’t seem worried. But everyone else noticed the birds dying around him, the water becoming blood, bad omens seemed to follow the child. And it culminated in Michael’s house burning down with his mother and “Father” inside. He was the only survivor.

His aunt was given custody of him.. He didn’t know it at the time but he was not responsible for the fire. However everyone believed he was. He was forced to repent over and over and over and over to get rid of his “sins”, to get rid of the demons inside of him.

Michael felt hollow.. He felt the judging eyes of everyone on him. No matter how good of a kid he was he felt destined to be evil. It felt like the omens were getting worse and worse as he got older and older.

The church held an intervention for Michael. They told him that he wasn’t good enough, that God was disappointed in him. The demons were still inside him because he let them stay inside. He began to cry and say that wasn’t true and that he wanted to pure he wanted to be good.

The church members took him into the baptistery and forced him under the water, waterboarding him over and over again to try and get him to “repent for his sins” and that the holy water will cleanse him of his omens.

Over and over again he was forced underneath the water, he kept screaming but the water kept filling his lungs, when he finally was able to get some air. He felt this righteous anger fill his entire body, and he attacked the people who had forced him underneath the water.

He attacked the church leaders and in the struggle they gauged out his eyes. And stabbed him. Pushing him deep into the baptism water, as his blood filled the pool it turned a dark black color. And he ascended from the baptism a monster.

Michael killed everyone. The people in the church, his aunt, everyone. Everyone who had hurt him. Everyone who had forced him into bowing before a god who would never forgive him. This “awakened” something inside of him, a power he never knew he had. And he began to crave meat.

He became the monster the church thought he was. And he ran away. And he decided that he would become a god, if a god who watched him get tortured by the heads of his religion then he could easily become one.

He created a cult, Ascensionism. He being the god, and his subjects being his eyes. He saw through them, and when it was finally time they would ascend and become his food. Becoming one with their god.

After many years in the cult however he eventually feels.. empty inside.. He begins to question what the hell he is doing and disbands the cult. He goes on a long journey of soul searching, trying to figure out who he is, what he is, etc. and one could argue he is still on that journey now even tho he is much healthier than he was back then.

[runespoor7]

Levi Dryden remains written like the least trustworthy NPC to ever do a run for

It's so weird because he's on the level! But here he is, talking about his good friend Duncan who totally promised he'd something for him and it's so weird he didn't ever speak about me! But he promised, so you're gonna do this for me right?

For the record, Daphnis doesn't think it's weird or anything she didn't hear of Levi, she knew Duncan for only a short time! But the way Levi goes at it and his insistence are ringing all her alarms for it being at best a con. Maybe another ambush?

I hc that we can check with Alistair that "Soldier's Peak" was a warden base (and possibly even about Levi Dryden being an acquaintance of Duncan? though he might not know either, Duncan might be discreet), and maybe even ask Zevran if he's heard about another ambush/trap by Loghain. He'd laugh bc that's not how Crows work, but the fact that we just got Zevran makes Daphnis think this probably isn't a Loghain trap. Loghain doesn't know yet his assassin failed.

So to Soldier's Peak we go. It's not that far from Denerim anyway, and it might get us things we need - more info, or more recent treaties, or weapons, or anything of the sort.

Daphnis is NOT IMPRESSED with what she finds.

She grits her teeth and decides to check on the tower the demon moving Sophia Dryden's corpse talks about. Hopefully it contains the key to repairing the Veil and anto-demon stuff - which would explain why the demon wants it destroyed so bad! But since she can't be sure, she doesn't destroy the demon before going to the tower. Just in case they do need to rely on the demon to close the Veil.

Also for the record Zevran being unable to pick locks means taking Leliana with me as well, which means that when Daphnis starts "negotiating" with the demon Leliana speaks and I miss out on the Zevran +2 approval would happen if she wasn't in the team! I'm very annoyed! Zevran "I can pick locks" Arainai no u can't. False advertising!!! (which I comment on at every single possible point when playing, I think I'm hilarious)

Long story short:

- Daphnis doesn't drink the result of Avernus research because she doesn't trust it

- Daphnis does manage to make Avernus see he's fucked up, and he agrees to judgment

- we fight Sophia (sorry not sorry. the demon was never going to walk away)

- Avernus closes the Veil

- Daphnis executes Avernus. The way Avernus talked about it, it sounds like maybe he took a demon in himself to survive, as well, which given the decisions he's been taking re: torture of fellow Wardens, isn't a great sign that he's not being influenced by the demon.

Even without that... it was bad.

At this stage Daphnis has come to the following guidelines, which will inform her decisions in Redcliffe:

- you can fight and win against demons in the Fade, paradoxically. You can confront, including negotiate with, demons in the Fade.

- it's a terrible idea to bring things out of the Fade! Do not! Do not do it! You can beat demons in the Fade but demons in our world are just bad! Do not!!

- mages going "yeah I'm going to bring an army of demons that I'm definitely going to be able to control and also let a demon into my body to interact with the real world, I will definitely not be taken over": so far we're on 2/2 of Do Not.

- Daphnis trusts herself but less so other people. It's okay when people don't bring demons into the world or torture people or stuff. She doesn't do these things. So it's okay.

Notably: Daphnis hasn't talked with Wynne a lot yet. :) Wynne is a little preachy and telling her not to be overconfident, and Daphnis was a little surprised when she came with, but she's okay.

I also wanted Avernus' robes because Daphnis is going to do blood magic, and if I hadn't she might have left Avernus alive, buy the decision/scene wasn't horrible to make from a RP perspective.

[paarthurnax59]

"Living Without You"

Chapter 1

warnings: blood, death, Creepy demon, and violence.

 Word count: 3.8k+

“Dean! NO!” You screamed as the male demon thrusted his blade into Dean’s stomach and you watched helplessly as you were in fact pinned to the wall by one of the other demons as she snickered as your love being slaughtered right in front of you. Tears started to well in your eyes as Dean’s body collapse to the ground, now being surround with a pool of his own blood. 

“One less Winchester to worry about, am I right?” The male demon snickered as the rest of his fellow demons copied his taunting quips. H then turned to you, giving you a look of false sympathy. “Aw…is Dean’s little pet going to cry?” He mocked as your entire body trembled looking at Dean struggling to move, twitching a gasping for air as blood continue to pool from his abdomen. You couldn’t breathe or think as you watched your boyfriend struggling for his life, while his assailant stood before him, now about to make you his next victim. “Don’t worry, you’ll be joining him, sweetness.” He said he walked over to you with a demon blade in his hand, stalking to you.

   As a result of your grief and sorrow, rage began to take over. You kicked the demon woman as hard as you could, making her let you go, and picked up your angel blade that fell from your hands. Before she could even blink, you stabbed her in the chest, making her eye glow red life fire and her body fell to the ground. You turn to the other demons that had attacked you and Dean and charged at them. You instantly killed the male demon that stabbed Dean and the other two demons had fled the scene before they could meet their end from the tip of your blade. After their lifeless bodies hit the floor, you immediately, with large tears stream down your face, ran to your beloved Winchester.

“Dean! Dean, please! Hang on! Please hang on!” As you fell to the ground where his body was, you wrapped your arms around him, shaking him while begging him to hold on. You check a pulse and felt that it was still there. Unfortunately, it was slowly fading, like his life force was fading.

“(Name)…” He spoke weakly and opened his beautiful green eyes to look up at you.

“Dean, it’s okay. I can pray to Cas. He can fix you!” You screamed desperately holding Dean close to you as he tried to hold onto your hand with his larger one with an iron grip. Not wanting to let go of you.

“Honeybee, Cas can’t…help me. His grace is gone…and he can’t fly.” He choked up while looking up at you with tears that are overflowing from his eyes. His once strong grip was now fading from his body while blood continue to seep from his deep stab wound. Looking down at his side, you cover his wound, applying gentle pressure to his left abdomen to try and stop him from bleeding out. 

“Dean…I can’t…I can’t lose you. I just can’t.” Sobbing like a small, helpless child, you grab onto your lover’s hand as tightly as humanly possible. Dean, thought with his lifeforce slowly fading, was holding onto your hand as if it was his lifeline.

“(Name)…I love…” Just before he was able to finish his sentence, his breathing stopped, his body became completely stiff and the light from his eyes evaporated. 

“Dean…DEAN!!!” You cried with large tears streaming down your face, shook his gently still grabbing on to his hands. “Please, no, Dean please.” You bawled some more as your sobs began to make your body shake with pain and anguish. Dean’s once strong hold on your hand now fell from your smaller one. That could only really mean one thing, which made your heart stopped as your love’s body goes completely limp.

   Dean Winchester was dead. The love of your life and boyfriend of five years, was dead. 

    Your entire body froze in disbelief as you stepped away from your now dead lover’s body. The feeling of agonizing grief overtook you and you got down on your knees, not sure or even caring if you are able to get back up again. The longer your looked at Dean’s cold-filled eyes, more memories of you two together began to cloud your mind.

“Here you go, Honeybee. Happy Birthday!” Dean smiled sweetly as he handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box with a blue ribbon tied around it. Sam was standing at your side along with Cas and Bobby, both wearing colorful party hats. You and Dean had been dating for almost a year now and things had been going, as to a surprise to both of you, extremely well. Especially consider that he was in fact nine years older than you. You just turning twenty and Dean being twenty-nine.

“Wow, Dean. Thank you so much!” You squealed excitedly as he handed you the box and you began to open it. After taking the wrapping off, you found that it was a beautiful blue velvet box. You eagerly but slowly opened it and your mouth dropped at what laid inside. A gorgeous, golden heart shaped pendent rested inside with a gold chain attached to it. After taking a moment to admire the beautiful necklace, you gently took it out of the box and laid it in your hand, smiling as you gazed at it.

“Flip it over, princess. Read what it says.” You did what he said and flipped the beautiful neckless dean had given you to read the message he had thoughtfully got engraved onto your birthday present. 

‘Forever yours, Honeybee, love Dean.’  You read on the golden surface of or the beautiful trinket Dean had given you. the smile on your face grew wider while a few stray tears begin to run down your face. You looked up to your boyfriend and placed a hand on his cheek. You hand Dean the neckless as your turned around for him to put it on your neck. He wrapped the chain around your neck and let the pendant dangle beautifully. You looked at the mirror with the neckless and sweetly looked at your reflection. The smile on your face was grew as you looked at yourself with the gift the Dean had given you.

“Thank you so much, Dean. I love it.” Softly speaking to your lover  as you turned around to kiss his lips while he placed his hand on your hip just so he could pull you in closer. The three men looked to each other awkwardly as they watched you two making out in front of them. Deciding to end to the “love fest’ between the two, Sam cleared his throat to get their attention. You and Dean stopped kissing, making you blush embarrassingly while the three men had their eyes on you two. “Sorry, guys.”

“I’m not.” Dean admitted shamelessly as he turned your head to you with that signature smirk on his face. Bobby and Sam groaned at Dean’s flirtatious tone.

“Shut up, Jerk.” Sam groaned as he rolled his eyes.

“Make me, bitch.” Dean shot back, making his brother for ruining his moment. You giggled while placed his arm around you. Suddenly the lights go out and then Castiel reappears from the kitchen with a delicious looking Ice cream cake with fudge that had the message ‘Happy Birthday, (Name)!’ , your favorite. 

“Alright everybody!” Dean shouted and then all the guys started to sing.

“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear (Name)! Happy Birthday to you!” Then men finished they song and you decided what wish to make and blew out your candles.  They all clapped as castile placed down the cake and Bobby started to cut up the cake. You looked at Dean once more and he wrapped his arms in a loving and tight embrace. Wishing so badly that this moment would never end.

    You came back to reality, with even more tears streaming down your face. All your life, you had experienced a lot of pain. Being stabbed, shot, burned, kidnaped, tortured, and nearly killed just like now. You even lost your parents and older brothers to the evils of the supernatural, which was how you became a hunter. However, nothing even compares to the pain of loss you feel right now. The loss of the love of your life, your soulmate and best friend. How were you going to explain this to Sam? Or Cas? They were both going to be devastated, and you had no one else to blame but yourself. Your heart pounded so hard that you think you may have a heart attack. Multiple thoughts ran through your mind, trying to keep your emotions under control, and failing poorly. 

  With great sadness, you walked back to Dean’s body and placed a hand on his face, not caring if you get his blood on your hand. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You pulled out the Necklace he gave you on your birthday. Staring at the stunning trinket, your state of emotion began to shift. Dean didn’t deserve this, you knew this. He saved people, helped people, he was kind to every person he met. He fought the worse possible monsters to protect the innocent, the devil included. Sadness and mourning began to fade as anger and determination began to take hold of your thoughts. Your face contorted into that of a quiet rage as you looked down at your dead boyfriend’s body.

You knew what you had to do.

………

  An hour later you were able to find a crossroads. You walked out of the Impala with a box in hand and closed the door. Dean’s body was left at the house of which he died in and not wanting him anywhere near here. As you reached the middle of the crossroads, you stopped for a moment. 

“Wait, this is crazy, (Name). Think about what you are doing.”  The inner voice in your head questioned you as if trying to stop you from doing the stupidest thing that any hunter could ever do. Selling your soul to save the man you love. “If you make this deal, Dean will never forgive you for throwing away your life and soul. He loved you too much to have you do this for him. You know this, (Name).”

“Shut up! Dean doesn’t deserve to die. This was my fault and am going to fix this.”  You shouted inwardly to the voice in your head while digging a deep hole in the middle of the road. With shaky hands, you placed the box in the hole and covered the box. You waited for a moment, and then a cold, masculine voice spoke behind you.

“Hello, (Name).”  The voice whispered creepily making you spin to look at it’s owner. A man stood at the edge of the road, smiling at you as his eye glow bright orange, like they were fire. He stood with his back with his hands in his pocket to the wall of the decrypted, old shed that looked like it hadn’t been tended to for decades. “Nice to finally meet you, my dear.” He greeted you as he stood away from the light of the lam post and lurked in the darkness of the night.

“Who are you?” You asked with a scowl on your face trying to make out what the demon looked like. Your heart paced faster as you looked at the hellish man in front of you. This was no ordinary demon you thought cautiously.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such rudeness coming from someone so virtuous and sweet as you. I’ll never understand why you hunters always have this tendency to be so blunt.” The man said looking down at you while he tilted his head with his bright flaming eyes fixated on you.

“Spare me pointless conversations. I want to make a deal.” You said wanting to get the point of you being here, not wanting to waste any more time in getting Dean back. Also, this demon was giving you the creeps, and that’s saying a lot. 

“A deal?” He perked up and stood up straight and took a few steps out of the shadows and into the florescent lights of the posts. You get a good look at the demon and gawked at him. He was handsome with long, dirt blonde hair that was just a little above the shoulders. The orange of his eyes disappeared, and ice blue irises took their place. His skin pale but clear and free of any blemishes. His beard was trimmed and well groomed, making him look both attractive and intimidating. He was tall and wore a black, sleek suit that looked a designer brand and Italian leather shoes. “Well, now I am intrigued, sweet pea.”

“Who are you? what’s you name?” You asked, with a shaky tone in your voice.’

“Call me Orobas.” He answered smugly with a slight arched with his eyebrows, making your eyes go wide. 

“Orobas? As in….a Prince of Hell?”  You fearfully spoke in response when you heard his name coming from his thin lips. He simply smirked down at you menacingly. Years ago, you were studying Demonology during your training from Sam and read about the many different types of demons. Demons of every culture, creed and mythology. There was the rehab demon in the Hebrew scripture that presents pride and arrogance. Then there was demons like Sabnock and Andras who were a great demon generals who was an expert at masonry and combat, that loved nothing more than to cause discourse among humankind. Let’s also not forget about Barbas, the demon of horror that brought out people’s worst fears.

  However, the demons that you found most formidable in your studies were the Princes of Hell. The highest rank of demons in theology. You have studied their history and origins of their creation. The one that brought out more questions, but also fear, was Orobas. Why was he so fearful? He had been with Lucifer since the beginning, and the most mysterious of the Princes of Hell regarding his origins. He was the first after Lilith had been created and became the most respected and feared of the Hell’s hierarchy. You didn’t think a crossroads would be the one place that you would meet him, considering that crossroads deals are thrown at lower ranked demons. Orobas stepped closer to you, making you shake nervously. 

“So...you have heard of me, Sweet pea. I’m honored.” His dark chuckle sends a chill to your very bones. You don’t know why but something about this demon made you feel more unease than almost any other demon you had encountered. It was his smile which started to curl upward what unsettled you the most. You could have sworn that fangs could have started to grow. The menacingly, handsome man began to circle you, like a hungry wolf circling a small, helpless, rabbit. “What’s wrong, Pumpkin? You scared?”

  He jested as though it was a humorous joke between two friends, when he was anything but. Your boyfriend had been killed by one of his own kind had been killed and here he was, trying to be casual and cordially with you. As scared as you were, the desire to stab him in the gut and watch the light leave his eyes grew intensely. 

“No,” You lied finally looking at the demon prince in the eye, hoping it might fool him. Unfortunately, you were never a good liar. Orobas smiled as he looked down on you with another malicious grin.

“Lies don’t become you, (Name). That was always the one aspect of hunting that you were never good at, was it?” He mocked slightly, making your breath become ridged. You were tired of this demon wasting your time with pointless conversations.

“Can we just get to the point of this deal? I want to exchange my soul for Dean Winchester’s life. And erase his memories of him getting killed.” You bluntly stated at the demon, making Orobas’ smiled disappear. It appears the playfulness was gone as soon as you said you love’s name. 

 “Bring back Dean Winchester in exchange for your soul? You? His worthless pet that couldn’t even save him from getting killed on a hunt in the first place? Do you know how many demons had been wanting that man dead?” His voice was stern and frighting at the same time. “Far more than I could count, sweet pea.”

“Please…” You pleaded with the demon prince with tears streaming down your face, hoping that he would agree with him so that you could see your boyfriend alive again. Orobas’s grin began to reappear once more at the sound of your cry.

“Oh, I love hearing that. The begging, the crying and the feeling of despair that only humans can provide. Especially from a beautiful girl who had just lost the love of her life.” He said while relishing in your grief and tears. He lifts your face up to him with his cold hand and brought you face closer to him, so close that you could feel his breath on you. “There is absolutely nothing more delicious in this world for a man like me.”

“You’re a monster.” You cry as you looked into his eyes and his smile dropped as his hand pulled away from your face.

“Not the first time I heard that, sweetness.” He retorted and walked away from you for a moment and looked out into the darkness of the night . Orobas stood for a moment and turned back to you. “Alright, I will agree to your request, little girl.” He said and you breathed a sigh of relief with a tired nervous smile, until Orobas lifted his finger to stop you from saying anything. “However, because you are making bring back a Winchester, Dean Winchester of all people, You won’t be getting ten years with him.” He explained making your smile disappear once more.

“How long?” You quietly asked with your hand covering your pendent. You looked down at the necklace then looked back up and realized that Orobas had disappeared. Then, a strong ominous presence appeared behind you and then a large callous hand grabs your neck gently on your neck and pulling you back to his chest, with his acid-like breath against your skin.

“One. Year.” He answered as he whispered in your ear, making your heart drop. A year, only on year with Dean and your family, then the hounds will take you, and make you spend the rest of eternity in Hell. One year to spend with the man you love, then it’s off to the dark world below. You thought about it for a moment, wondering if selling your soul was truly worth Dean being brought back. Your head shook at the thought of even thinking about it. Of course it was worth it! Dean is a hero, he had spent his entire life saving people and fighting the evils of the world. The world had been saved multiple times over. Him and his brother are the reason humanity gets to continue to live as they are now. Peacefully and without worry over any supernatural monsters to destroy that. But you? While you were indeed a good hunter, you were nothing compared to the brothers. When you are gone, Sam and Dean can continue the good fight. They don’t need you as much as you need them. The world will be a much safer place with you taking Dean’s place. 

    Orobas stood with his patience fading as you took your time to give him an answer on his offer. Angrily, he pulled you up more in an uncomfortable position as he strained your neck as your head stared up further up the dark, star-filled sky.

“Ahh!” You shrieked from the pain the demon was inflicting on you as you tried to squirm your way out of his grasp without nay success.

“Well, little girl? What your answer? The clock is ticking.” He said as he amusingly clicked his tongue repeatedly like a clock as he waved his free hand. “You keep me waiting and Dean’s body is going to fester into a rotting carcass. I can already see the flies buzzing over that pretty boy’s face and worms beginning to devour his dead rotting corpse. Oh…I can’t imagine what that would smell like, sweet pea.” He huffed out with a hiss, making you jolt from his grasp and then released you from him. Orobas laughed, your eyes burn with rage just looking at him smirking at you.

“You’re sick!” You shouted with tears streaming down your face glaring at the horrid man in front of you. 

“Not the first time I have heard that either, sweetheart.” He bragged and then straightened his posture and formed a more serious expression as he looked at you. “What is your answer, (Name)? The more you keep me waiting, the most likely I will change my mind.”

You pause for a moment, trying to think about whether or not to take the deal. As sick as his comments were, Orobas was right, Dean’s body is starting to rot as you speak. If Dean is gone, then monsters would run ramped and kill as many innocent people as possible. Him and Sam have saved the world a hundred times over, and you? Your accomplishments paled in comparison to what Sam and Dean had done. They would be fine without you. You were sure of it. Turning to the prince of Hell, you straightened you back with your head held high. You took a deep breath before speaking.

“Deal.” You simply said, making Orobas grin widely and then appeared right before you and placed his arms around your waist, holding you close to his body.

“Then let’s seal the deal, beautiful.” Before you could even think, Orobas placed his lips on your and began to invade your mouth his tongue and clutching on to you closer to deepen the kiss. You wanted to pull away, you truly did. The kiss was nothing more than putrid and made you want to vomit. Orobas took another minute as he clawed into your back as you pushed on his chest. The demon finally released you from the kiss, but still held on to you. Like he owned you. After that deal, in a way he does.

“The deal is done, sweetness.” He lets you go and you backed away from him as far and quickly as he could. You began to walk away, but before Orobas spoke once more. “Just to warn you, princess.” He said making you turn to the demon with a frown on your face. “You try to worm you way out of this deal, if I see any attempted to back out of the bond we struck, Dean dies and his soul will be sent to Hell. I give you my word.”

You wanted to argue, to fight him on this. The hunter in you urged to try and fight, but you instead said nothing. You walked back to the Impala and got in the driver’s seat to get back to the house where you left Dean’s body.

[stealthyrenegains]

I know what you’re thinking… you wanna renegade. But you need some stealth and gains. 🤔

Here comes the “In the Right Way” Push-Ups Program (Part 1)

(don’t worry, we’ve all been there). What gives?

Gains require sacrifices.

And nobody wants to hear that truth.

This workout program will empower you to train your discipline yourself.

After 6 months of each step, if this doesn’t work for you, you are allowed to break the rules and go back to an old habit. In fact, it can be good to do so to truly see that the same things hold less power over you.

I'm so convinced that this will work for you, though, that you won’t want to go back to your same old habits after the 6 months are up for each step in the same way.

There is a method to this madness, trust me. And I’m about to break it down for you:

Spend each step for 6 months. Between each of these steps, wait 4 weeks to get used to it before moving on to the next one, still replacing the old habit with the new one: push-ups to purge the absolute frack out of your demons.

So you’ll start the first step and hold that for a month before moving to the next step. The idea is that the steps will compound. You are not to let go of ANY step before 6 months.

The full version is not available yet, but once you’ve arrived at the sixth one, keep holding each step for 6 months until the continued version of this is released. There are 6 more hellish steps to go through after these 6. They're all free.

The reward? Freakin’ earning it. You’ll never be so happy to do a push-up in your life once all is said and done.

And more: more mindfulness, a personal sense of accomplishment, more focus, more intention, and more connection.

The Steps to Death by Push-Ups:

No Deceptions, no escapism

Focus on work and daily routines. Your dreams are not a reality unless you make them work.

The bad habit: escapism.

Any time you dip into escapism (thoughts of self-sabotage, falling prey to patterns of personal addiction to what numbs your thought-processes like mindless scrolling, thoughts of escaping your comfort zone), you are to do 9 push-ups right away.

2. No ego, no self

Focus on how you can foster healthy and well-balanced relationships. Take into consideration your partner's needs or whoever falls on your intimate path. Work on a balanced perspective and on compromise. Consider your true values to foster peace and harmony with others.

The bad habit: narcissism, excess vanity, and unjust selfishness. 🪞

Any time you catch yourself staring at a mirror for looking at a mirror to check yourself out or flex, any time you redirect conversations back to yourself, and any time you seek validation, you need to do 9 push-ups right away. Your gains won’t be a show-stopper unless your face is imperceptible from blood, sweat, and tears. 😤🩸

3. No false security, no new material possessions

Focus on transformation. Investigate what’s suspicious in your life. Now’s the time to destroy what you don’t need.

The bad habit: buying things you don’t really need, just to fill up a void inside you. 🫠

Any time you make a frivolous purchase on some material item, big or small, you gotta do 9 push-ups right away.

4. No environmental audience, no short journeys

Realize that the path to long-term success is a long one. That’s how this whole thing is going to feel like. 😴 Find religious verses for the inspiration that you need. Transcend simple communication and seek something higher. You will probably need this after the above steps. 😏

The bad habit: gossiping and having scattered focus.

Any time you engage in gossip or try to do too many things at once, do 9 push-ups right away.

5. No emotional instability, no overattachment to the past

Overidentification to your family and traditions can hinder your soul’s development. Now’s the time to focus on your career and what it is that YOU want for yourself.

The bad habit: letting other people define your needs and wants.

Any time you experience emotional turmoil or emotional outbursts, especially in your home environment, do 9 push-ups right away.

6. No external validation, no fear of self-expression

Let’s face it, when we need external validation, we are more afraid to express who it is we really are. Well, in this step, we’re throwing that need out the window so that we can express who it is we truly are. 🥹

The bad habit: caring what other people think.

Any time you stalk someone on social media, any time you check your phone to see if your gym crush texted you back, do 9 push-ups right away.

You may start off by doing several push-ups a day. That’s exactly great. That means you’re really mindful. Don’t give up! Keep building those gains. 💪🏼Are you ready? If you said no, you’re totally ready. 😈If you said yes, I think you may be underestimating this… either way, after 6 months of each, you’ll be unrecognizable in a very good way.

[gazrgaley]

Manifestation of a Monster

There were problems the night before. After a while, he would have to deal with it. Nonetheless, seeing the fast-paced pictures on the TV was a welcome diversion for the time being. He now despised the very word "distraction." And while lazily strewn across the couch. Thoughts from the past year flooded his head.

He couldn't give himself time to think about it now. He needed to put the past behind him and start over. Certainly, it wouldn't be a breeze.

He decided he had to reach out for support and share his story with someone else. Nevertheless, it was horrifying to consider letting his guard down and revealing his weaknesses, even to Milo.

He blinked his eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of the destructive ideas. He should have taken things slowly and concentrated on the here and now.

To block out the voices in his thoughts, he reached for the TV remote and turned up the volume. He would face his demons tomorrow. Today, he would just focus on the fake people and their fake drama.

The elevator's doors opened in the corridor. Surely it was Richard. Inquiring minds wanted to hear more about Ma'at. It was a topic about which he felt less than enthusiastic. He looked over at the stuffed rabbit next to him as the door opened. It's also possible that he was there to reprimand him. Whatever the case may be. There was no way to sugarcoat the change.

"Where's Milo?" Richard asked as he stood over Grendel. His attention shifted from Grendel to the stuffed animal next to him.

Grendel interrupted Richard with, "I know," before Richard could continue. It would have been the same thing he told him the night before. Don't go to her house. It's too much work for me. You are just hurting yourself. All of this was true, but it didn't make it any easier.

"But then, why did you do it?" Richard's response was monotone and uninteresting. "I'm not here to give you a hard time," he said with a sigh as he tossed the rabbit onto Grendel's lap as he sat next to him. "Seeing as how you are back on the surface, I wanted to get our story straight."

He ignored Richard's questions. The cover tale wasn't anything he was unaware of. For whatever reason, he decided to check the warehouse in hopes of finding Milo. Unfortunately, the only people there were the hooded weirdos who stool him, and when he tried to punch one of them, he accidentally hit a transformer. Bringing about an explosion of some sort.

This, of course, was completely false. The men with masks were nowhere to be seen. The electricity that killed so many came from an emotional outburst from himself. And the people who were there. The ones that killed. His train of thinking came to an abrupt end. Speculating about his true motivations was fruitless. Besides, if he stopped to consider the facts, he may remember Richard's account.

Richard continued to elaborate. Things that can only be understood by someone who was there. Grendel still didn't answer or show any signs of acknowledgement. Richard was familiar enough with him to know that Grendel wouldn't show any signs of listening, even if he was.

Grendel quickly shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on the present. "I'm sorry, Richard," he said, forcing a smile. "I must have spaced out for a moment. What were you saying?"

It was a good squeeze on his shoulder, and Grendel flinched. He could feel Richard doing it. His expression was one of sympathy. It's tough, I get it; in the meanwhile, just try to avoid making any rash decisions. When Richard got to his feet and prepared to depart, Grendel nodded. With that, Richard left, closing the door behind him and promising to return later to have a chat with Milo.

***

"How come you have so much knowledge and haven't located anything yet?" Milo inquired, his gaze drawn to the various colour-coded folders Richard had in front of him.

Everything was carefully arranged on the kitchen counter. The question was not intended to be insulting. But he'd known Richard long enough to know that it didn't take much information to piece things together.

"Well, Milo," Richard explained, "it's not just about the amount of knowledge I have; it's about how I organize and digest it." "Each of these folders represents a different component of the search, and I've spent a lot of time figuring out the best method to categorize and analyse the data. It's going to be a difficult task, but I'm determined to locate what we're looking for."

Milo was tempted to press the issue further. His precision was nothing new and made no sense. He noticed the name of a church right then and there. One that appeared to be extremely near Richard's house. Was that the one he was going to? Was that the reason he was so hesitant to move forward?

Milo didn't need a religion, but he respected it. That is, assuming common sense didn't get in the way. "Who is this?" Milo pointed at the priest's photograph.

Richard spoke with a quick glance over his shoulder, barely paying attention. "That's Malachi, the priest." He works as a priest at St. Ivies Cathedral."

"Do you go to that church?" Milo inquired, sounding more critical than usual.

"Yes," Richard replied, barely thinking about it.

"How come he's in your suspect file?"

Richard interrupted his work for the first time. "Because a large shipment box was brought a few days following the kidnapping, along with a few additional groups." The majority of those on that list have been exempted since I was able to determine what they carried over with them. I haven't gotten a straight answer from him yet."

Milo nodded in agreement. "I see. It's critical to have an open mind and avoid jumping to conclusions. He's a priest, but that doesn't mean he's not interested. Before making any choices, we should continue to investigate and obtain more evidence."

Richard concurred. "You are correct. We cannot dismiss somebody based on preconceived beliefs. I'll keep trying to acquire more information from him and see if he has any ties to the case."

Milo nodded, content with the plan. "Good. Let us continue to work on this and see where the evidence leads us."

Richard was not the type to hold back during an invasion. He did not do extra favours for anyone simply because he knew them personally. He could only think of an extension if it was for Molly or his family.

"I've been pressed for time lately. But don't worry, I'm not being biassed." He gazed absently through the papers. Making certain that no one feels out of place.

Milo would have questioned him further, but Grendel looked over to the counter where the two of them were sitting. "What are you up to?" he questioned, leaning against the counter and scattering a few papers with his elbow.

Milo thought Richard was ready to say something when he looked up for the first time. Instead. He took the folders from Grendel. Piling them neatly beside him.

A photograph of Ma'at slipped out as he did so. The photo was crisp and new and had nothing in common with the woman he had previously known. Her eyes were empty and her face sunken in. It still stunned him how flawless it appeared, almost as if looking at her through a window. Photographs, or pics as some call them, appeared to be magical in their ease of acquisition.

"Who's this?" Grendel inquired as he lifted the photo and examined it from every aspect.

"Ma'at," Richard murmured as he pucked the photo from his grasp.

Grendel creased his brow. "It's Ma'at. She looks like death."

"I'm sure you wouldn't look your finest if you were locked away for thousands of years," Milo retorted.

[plush-rabbit]

The Dateable's Making You Flustered

Request: Flustered scenarios with the dateables

A/N: Sorry for the bit of delay!! I really need to work faster with these (1k each)

-

Barbatos:

It’s been such a long time ever since the butler has felt some sort of attraction towards somebody. It surprises even himself and he’s able to see into the future. Yet, when he was given- or rather forced- into a day off, the first place where his mind had wandered had been to you. It was you that he thought of first. He didn’t have a clue on what he wanted to do, but when he was told that he had the day off- no exceptions- his mind had automatically gone to spending time with you. Barbatos wonders what changed that made you so important to him- he wonders when it happened, how it snuck past him and caught him by surprise.

He invited you on his day off, had sent you a quick message asking you’d like to accompany him around Devildom to pick up a few things for himself rather than the usual outing to the market. You had graciously agreed and now he stands beside you, his hand on a book and you peering to see what’s written on it.

“What’s the book about?” You ask, haven given up on trying to figure out what it was that had gotten his attention.

A few demons reach around and pull a book away from the shelf, talking excitedly to one another and he moves to stand closer to you. He smiles at you and holds the book close to him, already deciding to purchase it. “It’s an old tale from Devildom, similar to your Hansel and Gretal but this one is a bit more heavy.” You give out a hum, pleased at his answer and nod your head. “If you’d like, I could lend it to you once I’m done.”

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing at the same book and holding towards you. “I’ll just take one with me,” you offer and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed that you didn’t want to take his. “This way, we can read at the same time and then discuss. If it’s supposed to be similar to Hansel and Gretal, I’m sure that I’ll enjoy it. Plus-” you look up at him, your smile kittenish the book pulled to your chest- “it can be like our secret book club. I’ve been needing an excuse to go to the castle and visit, so this will be perfect,” you say excitedly, see-sawing between the tips of your shoes and back to your soles.

“You don’t need an excuse to visit the castle.” He hooks his arm with yours, slowly pushing you away from where a growing crowd of demons appear. “You know you’re always welcomed. The Young Lord would never dare to shut the door in your face.” He stops near the corner end of the store, his eyes attracted to a few trinkets where he reaches for.

The book is lowered and you shift your stare to where you both once stood. “And you?” His attention is grabbed immediately and he looks at you with a confused stare. You meet his eyes for a moment before you pull away. “Would you mind if I came over?” You clear your throat and look down, your bottom lip pinched between your teeth. “I wouldn’t want to…” you trail off, clearly unable to find the proper words. “I wouldn't want to distract you or make your work any more difficult than it already is.”

He can feel the back of his neck grow hot. He can’t be mistaken by what your words mean. You want to know what he thinks of you, if you’re welcomed in his eyes. His shoulders lower and he smiles at you, his hand reaching out to take your book from your hands. When you look up at him, he has his gaze kept on the title of the book, following the rise and fall of each letters.

“You’re always welcomed.” He takes in a small breath and fixes his gaze back to you. “You could never be a distraction for me. If you wish to have a secret book club with me, then I am more than honored to be your guest.” He clears his throat and looks away from you, his smile slowly growing but wavering as he lets out a shaky breath. “You make work easier. I enjoy my job, but I must say that when you’re around, the only thing I can think of is finishing in order to spend more time with you. Being around you is… nice.” He returns his stare back to you. “I’ve been around for a very long time, but when you’re around me, well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so young. I’m not sure what it is about you-” he raises a hand and holds your cheek- “but I find myself happy whenever I’m with you. So please, never think that you are a bother towards me. You’re always free to visit- whether it be for our secret book club-” he returns the book to you, smiling when your fingertips brush against his- “or just because, I’ll always make time for you.”

It might be cruel of him, but he can’t help but smile and let out a quiet chuckle when you press your face against the book. “Barbatos,” you say in a hushed whisper. He only hums in response, glad that his words had such an effect on you. You look up at him with a faux pout and furrow of your brows while he stands there with a wide grin. Your eyes turn away from him and you finally let a smile appear. “Thanks for the reassurance,” you mutter.

“Of course. Nothing that I said was a lie, so it was quite easy to let the words out, you know,” he teases, grabbing the book from you before you have another chance to hide yourself. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to see in the store, or do you wish to go somewhere else?”

“I uh-” still flustered, you rub your cheek where his hand once was- “can we check out the manga section?”

He hooks his arm through yours, his body close enough to where he can smell the sweet scent of your perfume. “Lead the way,” he says, following your footsteps through the store. He isn’t sure when his feelings towards you had changed, he doesn’t even recall the giddiness of when it all started, but he doesn’t mind it. It’s a nice change of pace. You’re something unpredictable and reckless, and something soft and fragile, and he welcomes having you so close to him, to where he could lean over and press his lips against the crown of your head and keep you protected under his touch. Barbatos welcomes the change that you brought and while the change wasn’t originally for him, he enjoys that it is for him now, that you’re the one that gets to be close to him and that gets to have the pleasure of having you wanting to visit him.

Simeon:

Who could have ever thought that he, an angel, would fall in love with a human? The very thing that an angel had created a war for, the very thing that caused him to lose those close to him, and the very thing that had shown just how different he was from someone he had considered a brother, he now commits the same unholy act. He must be a hypocrite. He is a hypocrite. The very thing he turned a blind eye to and here he is, so undoubtedly in love with a human that he fears his wings will be ripped from him, his blood staining his clothes and his halo broken beyond repair. Terror makes his blood run cold and yet, he cannot look away from you. Simeon keeps his gaze upon you with a mixture of hesitation and melancholy and you just smile back at him, the phone in your hand shared between the two of you as you watch a parody of a teen romance on an application.

“It’s amazing how much people have grown to like this er, show?” He asks, still unsure of what to call it. “It’s considered a show, right?”

Your shoulders raise in a shrug and you give him a small, tight lipped smile. “I guess. I think most people refer to it as a series.” The phone is lowered and it returns to your lap. “It isn’t wrong to call it a show, but since they’re short little bursts of episodes, I think people find it easier to call it a series, but it can go any way.” You move away from him, scooting until your thigh is at an angle and your knee is pushed against his. “Anyways, to answer your question, yes people do like it. I think since it’s like a parody but also suspenseful with the cliffhangers, it keeps people entertained.” He nods his head slowly, and he tries to ignore the rush of cold that is now at his empty side. “Did you like it?”

His eyes slightly widen, and his lips pull into a thin smile. “I- Well, considering the fact that it’s written and done by one person- I- It certainly is different than the things I usually consume, but-” He struggles to find a way to finish his thought without offending you in any sort of way and ends with a stiff nod of his head.

It’s a tense moment that doesn’t last long enough to linger on when you suddenly laugh. Your laugh is loud as it effectively gets him to snap his mouth shut. Your hands are waved in front of you and your knee leaves his as you curl onto the couch. “You don’t have to force yourself to like it, Simeon, I only wanted to show it to you, because you asked what I was watching.”

He appreciates you giving him an easy out, and he releases a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. It’s a slow release and suddenly he can breathe again. “Well thank you for sharing it with me. I appreciate that from you.” Silence lingers and it isn’t like before where it’s tense, it’s lighter now, but it still feeds him an odd sense of air where he’s stuck between a breath, his eyes stuck on you.

Once more, your laughter fills the room and it’s short and sweet, a gift given to him for just the moment. “Of course, Simeon. I like spending time with you, and I especially like sharing my interests so I guess, thank you for allowing me to do that.” Your hand reaches towards his and he sees the slightest pause from you, the way your fingers twitch until you allow yourself to hold his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

Warmth returns to him, something akin to a summer’s day in the Celestial Realm, and even though all air has left him once again, he is breathless in a way that matters, weightless and joy illuminating him. When he meets your eyes, he cannot look away and he cannot help but return your smile. The clock ticks onwards and he’s left with a heavy heart. He’s read about the perfect moment, thought about writing something so trivial and false, and yet, the perfect moment sits before him with their hand in his.

“I have to be honest with you,” he murmurs and his eyes feel hot, a lump forms in his throat that makes his words sound tighter. “I- I don’t-” How could he ever phrase what he wants to tell you? How could he drop that sort of confession on you? You know the story, would you ever want him to actually confess to you, to repeat the past mistakes and know the horrid outcome? He frowns. His eyes are stuck on the floor, running along the edge of the carpet and he can feel your gaze on him, your eyes that are heavy with concern and ever the angel, Simeon spares you and gives you the easier answer. “I’m thankful to have met you,” your name is a sweet whisper on his lips, a taste of sweet peach that makes his heart full and heavy. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as wonderful as you. I see you and I think that I’ve found something even more pure than an angel.” With every word, his hand turns to slip into yours, his gloves thin enough to feel the small crevices and calluses on your hand. “Even if you are human and you’ve committed sin, I still think that you are the most pure of them all with your kindness and generosity.”

He isn’t sure what he had expected, but he hadn’t expected to have you plant your face against the soft back cushion of the couch, your face held there for moments. Your hand slips away from his and he’s left holding empty air. His hands fret over your body and when you pull away, your face is flushed, your hands covering the lower part of your face as you look at anywhere but him.

“Simeon,” you whine, closing your eyes tightly. “That’s really sweet.” Your voice is high-pitched and your eyes open once more, as your hands finally lower. “I think I might actually die, that was really nice and something that I don’t hear often.” You finally look at him and your smile is ever growing. “Especially from an angel,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle.

His smile is soft and to him, it dulls compared to your brilliance. As if you were a puzzle, he fits into your hand with ease and grace. “Well if you were to die, I would return you in any way that I could.

Solomon:

He’s human, ageless and immortal, but human. He’s lived and loved, lost and grieved, and he’s gone numb and distant to emotions. He didn’t mind it, he welcomed it. He hated losing and hated the people that he lost and the empty space that they left. He promised that he wouldn’t ever want to feel that sense of sadness ever again. Then you came into the picture. He’s been called shady and worse words than that, but you don’t call him that. You hold his hand and you welcome him into your arms. You go on and on about the human in him and how you love that he’s there with you. Solomon isn’t sure when it was that he broke his own promise, but when he looks at you, he’s willing to love again and again.

The kitchen is a mess and powder covers the counters. His hands knead the dough and the smell of garlic and onion sizzled with oil is heaven in the air. You measure the ingredients and whisk at the eggs. It’s domestic and it’s something that leaves a storm of butterflies in his stomach. He could watch you forever, in the kitchen, with an apron tied around your waist, flour in your hands and the tip of your tongue peaking past your lips as you concentrate on rereading the cookbook. It’s domestic and it’s something he had long forgotten that he wanted.

“I have the ingredients memorized, I could simply tell you what to add,” he muses, returning to forming the bread into its shape.

“Knowing you, you’ll add something in there,” you quip, your smile now directed at him, with your tongue still pinched out. “Plus, it’s just reading. I can read,” you say with a defensive tone. “Just start dressing the bread with garlic and then we can get on with breading the chicken.” You jerk your head to where the chicken rests on the cutting board, the flour beside it.

“Okay,” he sings under his breath, returning his attention to the dough before him. The room is filled with a song from the Human Realm, a classic that has him feeling warmth in a kitchen that is not his, but with a person that is. It makes him long for another time, but when he catches you in the corner of his eye, he’s glad where he is. “I like your song choice,” he says, instantly biting the inside of his cheek once the words had left his mouth. It’s been so long since he’s ever tried to have an actual connection with someone, and he’s sure he wasn’t ever this awful at it.

“Yeah?” You step close to him, holding your hand out. “Care for a dance then?” Your smile is crooked and eyes gleaming with excitement as the song is replayed with a touch of your hand.

He’s frozen for a second, stuck in time, and rooted into place, his hand moving through thick amber as he lets his hand rest in your palm. The room is spun, colors mixing with each other and slowly blurring until he stands still, pushing you away and pulling you close, laughing and letting his hand rest against your side, his hand feeling the soft curve against your ribs. Your hands are powdered and his smell like bread, and your laugh is young and youthful. He can’t help but follow, letting his smile break out and hand slipping out of yours, to encase you in a hug where he traps you into a swaying motion.

The song fades and he’s forced to pull away, to step away from you and there’s hesitation is his steps and movements. His hands linger for a second too long, his eyes still stuck on you and his smile much softer than it was before. It’s a few seconds of silence where you take in deep, heavy breaths, and sway lightly to the song that approaches.

Your name is said and it’s sweet like honeysuckle and addicting like a drug. It’s a night where he invited you over, and now you two are busy making dinner in the kitchen and you’ve given him instructions and kept a close eye on what he does. Your perk your head and nod, allowing for him to continue. “Thank you for coming over,” he says with a tight smile on his lips.

“Anytime, Sol,” you respond, coming beside him once more. You bump your arm into his, leaning to look at the garlic mixture in a bowl. “You know I like spending time with you, so anytime you need a cooking partner, you can always call.”

He doesn’t say anything, only nodding and trying to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay while his heart beats frantically against his chest. You move away from him, returning to where the powder rests in a bowl and he’s left without, and while the distance is short, it’s something that is unwelcomed. He’s left with dough in his hands and you’re away from him, and loneliness settles.

“Can I call you whenever?” He asks, an easy smile on his lips, but there’s a plea in his words. He’s never been the needy type, but he needs you.

“Of course, you can,” you respond and you’re as kind as ever. You turn away and close the bag of flour, pushing it aside to clear the space at the table.

Like a drug that leaves his mouth dry and heart racing, feeling as if he’s about to die, he calls your name. You’re so close to him and yet, you aren’t close enough. He needs you. He needs you beside him. And he takes the first step, standing in front of you with a red kissed face as stares at the cabinets against the wall. You call his name and your hand is tender against his neck, leaving a white stain that snows onto his shirt.

“I just wanted to thank you. I know how busy you can get and I just-” he can feel the telltale sign of tears and he wonders when he’s gotten so emotional- “I like spending time with you. I like your music choices and I like it when you cook with me- even if it’s just you giving me instructions- but I like it.” His tongue touches against his lips and he looks at you, fiddling with the end of his shirt. “I think you’re great and I just need you to know that if you ever need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help. I would do whatever it would take to make you happy because you have a really nice smile and I don’t think you should lose that.” His heart echoes and his smile is gentle and nervous. “Thank you for being with me.”

You stare at him and he wonders if he had overstepped only to gasp when you bury yourself against his chest, patting at his shoulder and pulling away with a hand covering the lower half of your face. “Solomon,” his name leaving your lips sends a jolt of electricity through him, “I’m glad. Thank you,” you whisper. Your hand reaches to pull his away from his shirt and you hold it in yours. “I like being with you too. Us humans have to stick together, right?” You say softly, letting your fingers run over his scarred knuckles.

He nods silently and leans over, his lips pressed against your forehead. “Yeah, us humans have to stick together,” he whispers against you, smiling when he feels your own lips against his knuckles. He’s with you, at this very moment, he stands in a kitchen with music playing, holding you close to him, and for a moment, he can pretend that this won’t ever end, that he won’t ever have to move away from you and risk losing you.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Little Winchester (Crowley X Winchester!Sister!Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Crowley X Winchester!Sister!Reader

Universe: Supernatural

Warnings: Mention of blood and injury

Request: Please could you write a Dean and Sam Winchester teaching their not so little youngest sister how to hunt, fix the impala and scam people? Basicly she becomes a full fledged hunter under their tutrteledge. Possibly with Crowley caring about her but not admitting it. He' s worried she will be harmed.

Crowley had known the Winchesters for many years now, and by this point, he was more than familiar with them, as well with their little sister. Crowley can still remember the exact thought when he met you- back then you were still just a child, oblivious to the danger your life was constantly in, with the danger that you could be left totally alone in this world if something happened to your brothers, and all he could think was ‘oh god, I’m going to grow attached’. And that he did.

You weren’t little anymore, and you had quite the attitude. Having grown up with protective brothers made you desperate to want to have some independence, and after years of begging, and Crowley pointing out that if they didn’t teach you that you’d go teach yourself and possibly put yourself in danger, they finally started to cave in and teach you how to hunt. They started with the research section first, mixed with a bit of martial arts and how to shoot a gun, and slowly worked you up with easy cases with low risks with them right by your side. Crowley even offered them rebellious demons for you to practice with, and it wasn’t long till you were with them on almost every case, a full fledged Winchester. However, that didn’t stop Crowley from being worried about you. He’d watched you grow up, and he could still see the innocence behind those eyes, and part of him wanted to preserve it, and wanted to keep you safe.

“Dean, I’m done!” You called to your oldest brother as you walked back into the main part of the bunker. Crowley had stopped by to offer a new case to them, and was in the midsts of giving details when you had interrupted. He paused and looked in your direction as you emerged. Dean also turned to you. 

“All of it?” He asked. 

“Yep. I double and tripled checked, I got all the blood out. I also dusted the car for brownie points.” You informed him. Crowley, unfortunately, had a good idea of whose blood you were talking about, having heard Dean’s rule of ‘you bleed in my car, you clean up your own blood’ as well as with any other mess you made in the car, and also the fact that he could see from your rolled up flannel shirt that you had a thick bandage around your arm. 

“Alright, Sammy’s doing research, go take notes.” Dean told you, and you nodded, going to walk past them, before you stopped and looked at Crowley, and smiled. 

“Hey Crowley, got a new case for us?” You asked him. 

“‘Fraid not, dear. Just a heads up of possible danger, wouldn’t want to catch you of guard in case it kicks off.” Crowley told you. You nodded, not thinking much else, before you went on your way. Dean creased his eyebrows at the demon, who made sure you were out of the room before he continued to speak. “Don’t get her involved in this one, Squirrel. A minor mess up due to her being inexperienced will, and I promise you, will kill her. I trust you and Moose to do it, but not her.” He kept his voice low as he explained, and Dean nodded. 

“Alright. I’ll tell her we’ve just heard rumors of something boring and going to check it out, and then we’ll just say it was a false alarm if things go well. I’ll keep her busy.” Dean assured, and Crowley sighed with relief. “Thanks for keeping her well being in mind. I know she wants to be big and tough like us, but I think we both know she’s still a baby.” 

“Without a doubt. Keep her safe, Dean.” Crowley told him, before making his leave.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

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[saeyoungchoismaid]

Brothers’ + Diavolo’s reaction to their s/o on their period

Genre: fluff Warnings: none A/N: I made it to where demons/angels don’t have periods

Lucifer:

he walked into your shared bedroom to see you buried under your blankets

eating candy 

and crying over whatever movie you were watching on your phone 

instantly, he’s worried, confused, and curious 

he slowly walks over to you and quietly gets your attention, not wanting to spook you 

you look up from your phone to stare up at him with watery eyes 

“What’s wrong, love?” he says softly, sitting on the bed by your legs

“I’m not feeling well,” you reply calmly, wiping the tears from your eyes

he frowns at this 

“Why? What’s wrong? Did one of the idiots do something t-”

“No, no. I’m just on my period,” you explain shortly

there’s a long pause after that 

Lucifer, for some reason, never expected this to happen

I mean, demons don’t have periods

even angels don’t have them 

guess he should’ve known better

“You’re what?” is his brilliant response 

you giggle and explain to him what’s going on, reassuring him you’ll be fine 

he doesn’t hesitate to get what you need when you need it though 

Mammon:

he doesn’t know what to do 

he doesn’t even know what a period is 

and you’re bleeding???

isn’t that serious????

humans can’t lose this much blood, right?????

but you seem completely chill 

you’re just laying on your bed in some comfy clothes, eating junk food, and watching tv

how are you so calm??

despite his worries that you’ll literally die, he trusts your judgment and doesn’t rush you to a hospital 

he constantly asks what you need though and, of course, you use this to your advantage 

you make him bring you drinks, snacks, blankets, and whatever else you could possibly want 

after making him your slave for fifteen minutes, you finally relent and tell him you just want cuddles 

he happily obliges to that one 

he all but jumps on your bed, curling up with you to watch whatever the heck you’re watching 

Levi:

he once played a game where he was a human doctor 

let’s just say he found out some things that he never thought he’d know 

so, when he finds out you’re on your period, he’s only a little shocked 

that game wasn’t just fabricating things up out of the wazoo??

humans literally bleed out of their vaginas???

now he knows just how cruel God is 

he has to do a little research before doing anything 

he looks up everything there is to know about the human period 

he learned 1. they bleed a lot from anywhere from 2-7 days 2. they can have cramps and other physical pain 3. humans get cravings during this time 4. you won’t die 

he had to search a lot to get that last one

apparently, it’s not a very popular search 

after getting all his information, he finally goes to you 

he helps you with whatever you need

anything from getting you a drink to giving you a massage 

during the time of your period, he’ll randomly blurt little ‘fun’ facts about the human period 

“Did you know that menstruating makes you hornier?” 

he got wacked for that one 

Satan:

of course this demon already knows all about it 

with the number of books he reads?

please, he probably knows more than you do 

as soon as he finds out, he just leaves without a word

you felt like crying, seeing as how you thought he was disgusted by you 

before you could get far in crying, he’s suddenly back with a bunch of stuff 

extra blankets, a heating pad, snacks, candy, medicine, warm and cool drinks, a book he recommended you to read, and a whole bunch of other stuff 

you’re in awe, to say the least 

your heart probably grew three sizes 

he cuddles you as he gently rubs your abdomen over the heating pad 

you ask him how he knows so much

because you were having ‘girl’ time with Asmo once and when you mentioned your period, he had no idea what you were talking about 

he only chuckles and explains he’s not as dense as his brothers 

he tells you about all the human books he has in his room and the library 

he knows plenty about the human body 

“How do you think I’m so good at pleasing you and making you orgasm so hard that you’re literally seeing stars?” 

you let out a squeak as you hit him, a dark blush coming to your face 

Asmo:

he, just like his other brothers (besides Satan), had no idea what you were talking about 

he wanted to have ‘girl’ time when you said you didn’t feel like it 

he was thoroughly confused 

you always feel like it

what’s changed?

he offers to paint your nails while you tell him what’s wrong 

you agree and lean back against your pillows once you sit up 

you instantly change your mind when you smell the strong scent of the nail polish 

you ask him to put it away, closing your eyes for a moment 

he pouts but does as he’s told 

he then offers to brush and braid your hair instead 

that you instantly agreed with 

as he plays with your hair, you feel your headache subside a bit 

you explain to him what’s wrong and that what you’re going through is normal

and that you’ll be right as rain in a couple of days 

he coos at you, wrapping his arms around you 

“Why didn’t you say so, love bug? What can I do?” 

after helping you to the best of his ability, he cuddles you and plays with your hair until you fall asleep

while you're asleep, he does some research 

apparently, sex can help ease period-related symptoms, such as cramps 

once you're awake, he tells you this new information 

you're surprised that he's not disgusted and actually wants to try it 

"Honey, I'm the avatar of lust. I see this as free lubrication," he replies with a smirk before getting to work 

Beel:

just like pretty much everyone else, he’s lost 

that doesn’t stop him though 

he’s swift to make you all your favorite foods and more 

while he secretly makes your surprise, he brings you some snacks and candy 

he also gives you a bottle of water and tells you to drink it all by the time he gets back

he’s quick to make all the food, it taking everything in him to not take bites 

when he brings you tray after tray of food, you assure him that you can split it with him 

he feeds you and smiles when he sees that you’re feeling better

once you confirm that you’re full, he’s quick to finish everything off for you 

after that, he cuddles you and makes sure that you’re as snug as a bug 

he’s ready to get up if you need anything, running from your bedroom to whatever place held what you wanted 

you quickly learn to keep your mouth shut 

you just so happened to mention wanting cotton candy, a human world only delicacy, and he rushed off

he found Lucifer, made him take him to the human world, and tracked down one of those big buckets of cotton candy 

when he returns, you thank him but make sure to also scold him 

“Baby, I didn’t need this. I ju-”

“But you’re hurting. I want to make you feel better,” he says softly while not looking at you 

he looks like a kid who’s getting scolded for being up past their bedtime 

and how can you stay mad at that?

you reassure him it’s fine and cuddle back into him, starting to eat the cloud-like dessert

and, of course, you shared with him

Belphie:

he woke up from a nap with you to see red on the bed

just like anyone else who sees a human bleeding this much, he starts panicking 

he wakes you up and basically shouts in your face that you’re dying and that you have to go to the hospital 

you’re very confused, to say the least 

he starts to check for a wound while yelling at someone to get the car ready or call an ambulance 

he eventually finds the source of your wound 

there’s a lot of blood in your underwear 

he thinks that’s an odd place to stab someone or whatever but he brushes it off in an instant 

he’s quick to ask how you didn’t notice the pain in your vagina of all places 

that’s when things click for you 

you’re beyond embarrassed

you shoo him out of the bed with hot cheeks, mumbling things to yourself as you take everything off the bed

he’s flabbergasted 

“What are you doing? You’re dying and you want to do laundry?” he shouts 

you roll your eyes, throwing the, basically ruined, heap of blankets and sheets to a corner of the room

“I’m not dying. Calm down,” you reassure, making your way to the bathroom to clean up 

he’s so worried that he almost follows you in 

after locking him out, he let’s everyone know that it was a false alarm while you clean up

you come out and throw your ruined underwear and pajama bottoms on top of the heap

you then sit him down and explain what’s going on 

he’s embarrassed for having such a dramatic reaction to something that’s, apparently, very normal 

you tell him not to be embarrassed because it’s not his fault that he didn’t know 

you then say that if anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you 

he cups your face and stares into your eyes, a serious look on his face 

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that. You had no control over the situation. I’m not mad or disgusted. It’s perfectly natural. So, don’t worry your pretty little head,” he reassures softly before giving you a kiss 

after that, he takes over with cleaning up 

after getting news sheets and whatnot onto the bed, he bundles you up in it and gets whatever you want to make you feel better 

Diavolo:

he, surprisingly, already knows about human periods

when he sees your shock, he chuckles for a moment before explaining 

“Of course I know about periods, dear. I had to learn a lot about humans for this program. Now, c’mere. What do you need?” 

after getting over your shock, you explain that you’re cramping and want a heating pad, if possible 

he quickly reassures you that he’ll get his hands on one and to go lay down 

when he returns to you, he has more than a heating pad with him 

he’s brought snacks, medicine, movies, blankets, and new fuzzy pajamas 

you try to tell him that you’re afraid to ruin the pajama bottoms but he reassures you that if you ‘ruin’ them, he’ll get you ten more 

after coaxing you into the comfy clothes, he rolls you up in blankets and tucks you into bed by his side 

he feeds you whatever you want to eat and gives you medicine for cramps, headaches, and whatever else is hurting  

after taking said medicine, you start to get a little drowsy 

you last about halfway through Mulan before you pass out 

he curls up next to you and decides to take a nap himself once he knows you’re okay 

he makes sure to check on you when you wake up, offering to draw up a bath for you

he then surprises you by joining you in the bath 

it’s the most relaxed and pain-free you’ve ever felt while on your period 

MASTERLIST 

More with Obey Me!

[maverick-werewolf]

Vampire Fact #7 - Becoming a vampire

Remember the handy post on ways to become a werewolf in folklore vs pop culture? Here’s one of those but for vampires!

Please note, as usual, that this is not going to cover the full range of possibilities, but it will cover the most common/most popular ones. This applies to both folklore and pop culture. And of course, again, I’ll save a full list for when I write my book on vampires, you know?

Please bear in mind that a lot of these come from Romania and other regions of Eastern Europe, which are rich with vampire folklore that is some of the best-preserved that scholars currently have for study. It is essentially the baseline of what we consider “vampires” today.

Something to think about before we enter into this list, of course, is that I want to re-emphasize - and I will do this several times in this post - that vampirism was not a “disease” like it sometimes is considered today. Although vampires were often associated with disease in folklore, vampirism itself is not a disease. It is either a demonic being that is a vampire, or else it is a curse. Vampires have this in common with werewolves of pop culture today that being a vampire is some kind of infectious disease they can pass on to others (here is how lycanthropy isn’t a disease at all in folklore, ever), but that isn’t really a thing in folklore.

Appeared in folklore

Being a demon - A lot of vampires in folklore were not humans at all. They were demons taking the shape of humans (sometimes; they didn’t always maintain that shape, sometimes appearing as mist). It’s important to mention this one because I cannot emphasize enough that vampirism in folklore is generally a demon, demonic possession, or a curse, not a disease like it so often is today.

Demonic possession - Plenty of times, a vampire in folklore is the result of a demon possessing a corpse, and again, they aren’t really humans at all, per se.

Being born cursed, becoming vampire after death - There are all sorts of reasons for this (see the last entry in this “appeared in folklore” list, though even that doesn’t cover all of them). One could be born with the curse of vampirism - but that would only manifest after the person died.

Being cursed - Sometimes somebody just straight-up doesn’t like someone else and then they curse them. After that person dies, they’ll return as a vampire because of the curse. This often didn’t require some complex ritual, because in the olden days, even saying “damn you” was literally considered a curse - this is why it’s called a “curse word.” If you say that to someone, you are literally cursing that person, wishing them to be damned.

Violent life/violent death - Someone who lived a violent life - if they were a killer, if they mutilated others, whatever - and then also died a violent death, such as if they were murdered, would rise again as a vampire.

Incest/born out of wedlock - What it says on the tin. The child would be cursed and then become a vampire after death.

Incorrect burial rites - Gotta get those burial rites correct. Mess them up, and the person will rise again as a vampire. You don’t just stick a person in the ground. Extra measures might be taken to prevent the person becoming a vampire, too, like burying the corpse face-down or sticking needles or a stake in it, as mentioned in this post on weaknesses.

Ignoring traditions - You may have heard of strigoi or the similar word striga from a certain popular fantasy game - or maybe you never played the first one; you should - but it isn’t what you think. A strigoi is a spirit, and if one does not properly undertake the right funerary feasts in the right time period after a person’s death, then that person might rise again as a strigoi - in other words, a vampire of sorts. This basically falls into the same category as incorrect burial rites, but it’s slightly different because these traditions may need to be held more than once, such as once a year, in order to keep the spirit pleased.

Animals jumping over corpses/graves - Cats, dogs, horses, you name it. Animals jumping over graves was not a good thing, especially for the recently interred or those in the process of being buried. They’d probably return from the dead as a vampire.

Suicide - There are some stories in which committing suicide can result in a vampire, such as one tale of a man who hangs himself, becomes a vampire, and then still pursues his girlfriend, who spurns his advances because he’s an evil spirit now. He does not, however, want to drink her blood, because not all vampires actually wanted/needed to do that (more on that later).

Many strange and specific happenstances - These include but are not limited to: not eating garlic during life, a pregnant woman not eating salt during her pregnancy, if the mother of a child is a witch and/or uses spells and incantations, if someone lives an amoral life (such as obtaining money falsely, for instance, as well as being violent etc. as mentioned before), if a pregnant woman is seen by a vampire (and given the evil eye; a big deal in folklore)... all of these would result in the person and/or the child in question becoming a vampire after death, but they would not be born this way. All of these emphasize that being a vampire is a curse, often put upon those who do not live moral lives. Or, I guess, those who don’t eat their proper anti-vampire diet.

Did NOT appear in folklore

Almost any case of a vampire “creating” another vampire - This wasn’t really a thing in folklore. Much like how lycanthropy wasn’t considered a “contagious disease” in any fashion in folklore, being a vampire was a curse, and it wasn’t something they could pass on. Events in a person’s life, whether in or out of their control, determined whether they would become a vampire; this is especially true of Romanian folklore.

Blood transfusion - They didn’t really do blood transfusions back when - though drinking blood was a thing, actually, and not just for vampires; more on that later, though - so obviously there’s no vampire folklore where you put a vampire’s blood into someone else and then that person becomes a vampire, for so many reasons.

Drinking vampire blood - Nope. In fact, a vampire’s heart was sometimes eaten or the ashes of the heart drank by someone in order to destroy a vampire.

Biting a human - Nope. First of all, vampires in folklore didn’t really have the signature fangs to leave those fang marks that means someone will turn into a vampire. Vampires drank blood from their victims all the time and no one ended up becoming a vampire from it, really.

And that’s all for now!

(If you like my blog, be sure to check out my other stuff! And please consider supporting me on Patreon - not only will you help me keep this blog running, but you get access to cool stuff in return!)

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[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 2

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: non-sexual noncon touch mention, just a tiny taste of drugging (fade to black)

Once Jerhyn had bemusedly agreed to Morgan's request for a more private meeting, just the two men and two watchful guards, things went much more smoothly. He'd been able to properly explain the situation with the dark wanderer, and the sultan had divulged a story passed down through the royal family concerning the imprisonment of a great evil within a tomb deep in the desert. The story had unfortunately been rather shy on specifics, but that proved to be a convenient segue into an inquiry about the city archives. They were housed on the other side of the city, staffed by a small team of dedicated archivists. Jerhyn assured him that they would be happy to welcome his inquiries. Lut Gholein was proud of its history.

After that was settled, it had been simple enough to convince Jerhyn that his time would be better spent searching for the source of the demonic activity rather than just reacting to it. He'd promised to share whatever he learned with the mercenaries and the local clergy, which had apparently been something of a surprise. Jerhyn had reassured him quickly that yes, of course the priests of Akarat would be keen to know more, he simply hadn't expected an outsider to consider that angle. Luckily, he seemed content to drop the issue there. There were few enough places that welcomed the Order of Rathma with open arms, and Morgan did not wish to test the hospitality of this one if he could avoid it.

He also made it clear that he was not affiliated with Blaise in any meaningful capacity, and that her considerable skills were her own to direct. After all she had done for him, it was the least he could offer in return. The mention of her got a chuckle out of the palace guards. Apparently she had arisen quite early and demanded an audience with the commander, who did not appreciate being roused. He apparently hadn't expected her to accept his cranky, blustering challenge to a test of her fighting skills, and had expected even less to be soundly beaten. So she had already earned her rank and a great deal of respect. Morgan noted that news seemed to travel quite fast in this city. At any rate, he was glad to hear she was doing well for herself.

All in all, the meeting had been a great success. Pleased with the progress so far, Morgan set out to explore the city. It was one of the largest he'd ever visited. Its centre was dominated by a sprawling marketplace spilling over with all manner of vendors. The sounds and smells were a little much to handle all at once. He would be able to manage brief excursions, but it would definitely be draining. Luckily, the archives were located away from the market. It would probably be possible to avoid the marketplace by taking the smaller side streets, once he got a better picture of the city's layout.

As promised, the archivists were polite and accommodating. After a brief tour, one of them even introduced herself as a local historian. She sat with Morgan for about an hour, patiently answering his questions as best she could. Her specialization was in more recent history, but she was at least able to fill in some of the details. The tomb from the royal family's story was that of Tal Rasha, a powerful mage who had died imprisoning a great evil. The identity of the evil sealed away was apparently the subject of some academic debate, as was the actual location of the tomb. On one hand, that meant there was plenty of reference material. On the other hand, it also meant that there were likely to be a lot of false leads. That was fine by Morgan, though; he enjoyed puzzles, and if he could approach the research from that angle, so much the better.

He settled himself in with a small collection of texts to start with. The archivists took turns checking on him about once an hour, then less often as it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. At one point the historian brought him a cup of wonderful-smelling spiced tea, which he thanked her for and promptly forgot about until after it was stone cold. It had gotten strong and bitter, but it sufficed to get him through another few hours of reading. All the parties seemed to agree that the tomb had been surrounded by a multitude of identical fakes, though estimations ranged in the exact number of those, and guesses as to what distinguished the true tomb varied wildly. It made for fascinating reading, and nobody bothered him except to helpfully point out the storeroom where the oil for the lamps was stored.

It occurred to Morgan about fifteen minutes later that the bit about the lamps had probably been a cue. He approached the archivist ready to apologize for overstaying his welcome. She reassured him that although they generally closed overnight, that restriction would be waived due to him being on royal business. That was welcome news, though he didn't recall mentioning the sultan's request. However, now that he had stood and moved around a bit, it was becoming clear that it was time to seek out a meal.

After confirming which materials he was permitted to borrow - enough to get him through the night, anyway - he left with a heavy pack and directions to a tavern that sounded promising for both food and local knowledge. Although it was his least favoured method of gathering information, it was inescapable fact that people often knew little tidbits that weren't considered important enough to record. Sometimes those scraps of information could prove vital, so he would seek them out as best he could.

Since artificial lighting was readily available and he'd been granted unfettered access to the archives, it was easy for Morgan to slip into a more nocturnal schedule. He spent the hottest part of the days sleeping or meditating in his room at the palace, slowly but surely expanding his magical reserves and refreshing his training in emotional control. That left the mornings and evenings to canvass the locals for information, and the long cool nights to pore over materials in the archives.

None of the merchants or inn staff were able to provide any useful leads, but he had received a plethora of advice on how best to avoid and treat sunburn, including several referrals to a local alchemist. It was something of a relief that his complexion seemed to be regarded as more of a curiosity than a deformity here. The alchemist in question was called Lysander, and he operated his stall by the edge of the marketplace. He was a pleasant, professional man who did not question Morgan when he requested one of each different analgesic preparation in his arsenal. Not one of them had any effect on the pain in his injured arm. That was disappointing; it would have been preferable to chalk up the earlier failures to some sort of error in the preparation on his part, but Lysander was highly regarded and very unlikely to be selling faulty product.

A couple of days in, Morgan was pleased to encounter Cain on his way to the archives. The scholar seemed genuinely interested in his research, and soon began joining him. It was unexpectedly nice to have the quiet company, a companionable silence settling comfortably between them. It was also its own kind of luxury to stay within the city, to be able to go about his business with just the clothes on his back and perhaps a coin purse instead of having to bring everything with him.

The room where he left his things was... well, it was a unique but overall tolerable situation. As promised, none of the other members of the harem guild gave him so much as a second glance, which was a relief. Jemali continued to be aggressively flirtatious, but at least he generally honoured his agreement about physical contact. He was naturally expressive with his hands, so Morgan resigned himself to the occasional touch on the arm or shoulder when he got too close to the other man.

Attempts to explain the prickling discomfort of being touched didn't seem to stick. He supposed the courtesan had little enough reason to care. Most often he retreated to Morgan's room to rest, snatching a brief nap in between whatever else he was doing. Sometimes he would talk about his work. Morgan wasn't especially fond of those times, but thankfully Jemali seemed to want an outlet more than a conversation partner.

The priests of Akarat had given Morgan a warm enough reception, though he'd been careful to avoid mention of his own profession beyond working for the sultan. They made it clear that unless his work produced substantive results, they were not at all interested in learning about his research. That was agreeable for all parties, he felt.

Occasionally, Morgan would venture out into the desert surrounding the city. He quickly learned to spot the signs of the various aggressive insects that seemed to thrive in the desert environment, from the particular patterns the enormous beetles left in the sand to the nearly invisible hives that housed swarms of blood-hungry flies. There were other creatures as well, but the insects were the most dangerous; they didn't take any notice of any golems he raised, interested only in living flesh and blood. At least the misshapen things that might once have been related to vultures, and the occasional undead, could be distracted by his constructs.

He'd managed to locate a few tombs, all in various states of disrepair. Unsurprising, really, given their distance from the city and the aggressive fauna surrounding them. Similar to what he'd seen with Andariel, the dead inside were risen and restless. Fortunately, the supplies he needed to lay them back to rest were easy enough to come by. Lysander raised his eyebrows at Morgan's requests for specific oils but produced them without further comment. There was generally little else of interest in the tombs, but it felt pleasantly useful to be able to carry out these small acts of service to punctuate the long stretches of information gathering.

He was learning much about Lut Gholein - the infrastructure of desert waypoints was particularly interesting, like portals but in fixed locations - but next to nothing about the tomb of Tal Rasha, even with Cain's help. The evidence leaned toward Baal, Lord of Destruction, being the evil that was contained within it. Unfortunately, most references to its location had either been removed or redacted. It made sense for the tomb to be hidden, to prevent grave robbers from targeting it and unwittingly unleashing Baal onto the world. That was a sensible precaution which also happened to make his current objective much more difficult. It wasn't as though he could actually track the dark wanderer through the desert; the wanderer was much too far ahead for that thanks to Morgan's long convalescence. Any traces would have long since been erased. He had to find the tomb some other way.

From time to time Blaise stopped in, usually staying for just a minute or two to share the latest news from the mercenaries. Perhaps she'd been asked to keep communications open. It was a little unusual that it was never any of the other mercenaries, but Morgan wasn't about to complain. Known allies were always preferable to strangers.

Morgan was on his way to the archives one night, later than usual. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten while he'd been reading until the oil lamp had guttered out. Rather than refill it in the dark and risk waking Jemali, who had fallen fast asleep on the bed after airing some complaints about a particularly demanding client, he decided to take his research elsewhere.

He liked the city at night. Everything was softer, the smells of the marketplace just lingering memories, the last of the vendors packed up for the day, the chatter and bustle stilled. If he sat still for long enough, one of the innumerable stray cats would find the courage to rub hopefully against his ankles. He'd made the mistake of feeding one of them once, and they'd not forgotten. They were charming little opportunists. None of them were around this evening, though. Perhaps they'd found someone with a steadier supply of food for them, he thought as he turned down a narrow street. It was nice to imagine they were being cared for.

"Hey," a voice called out softly from somewhere above. "Pale one." Morgan looked up to see a man raising a hand in greeting from a second storey window. The voice was vaguely familiar. "You ever find what you were looking for?" Ah, it was one of the many people he'd tried asking for information. Nothing in particular made this one stand out from the rest, as far as he could tell. People often blurred together, and he was too far away to see the man's face clearly.

"Good evening. I'm making some progress."

"Well, good luck with that. Akarat guide you."

"And you."

The man retreated inside and Morgan resumed walking. He followed the street to its intersection, gazing up at the skyline to orient himself with the looming silhouettes of the palace and the city gates. The streets were mazelike at times, and he still hadn't determined the fastest route across the city from the palace to the archives. Maybe if he tried taking the left fork this time...

The sharp sting of an insect bite interrupted his musing. He swatted at his neck, annoyed. The damned things were usually less active after dusk, but there was no real escape. For half a second, he was confused by the unfamiliar feeling under his fingers. Why would an insect be made of metal, he thought fuzzily as the world tilted around him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

[abalonetea]

Quill, this one might be my favorite piece from the whole month! Written for the prompt "What I've Done by Besomorph"!

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Looking to leave prompts of your own? Check me out on patreon.com/abalonetea!

1.

The witch stands on the cliffs and watches the ocean churn red, the blood  of a thousand spirits spinning up into frothing waves, the full reality of what has been done finally sinking into her bones.

“You didn’t know,” says her familiar, a massive cat with midnight eyes and starlight fur. He twines around the witch, pressing against her, trying to push away the guilt that clings so thickly to her skin is visible to the naked eye; ugly patches of hate that stains her skin with twisting, putrid veins.

“I didn’t,” says the witch, her voice whisper soft. It’s nearly devoured by the waves. “But I should have. The knight tried to tell me.”

“The knight wasn’t right either.”

“She wasn’t wrong, though. Look at this. Look – look at what’s happened. I’ve killed them.”

“The demon is to blame,” says the familiar, steady, steady, steady as the glass ocean used to be. “Not you.”

And the witch, numb and crumbling, says, “but I let the demon out.” And then, even softer, just a whisper on the trembling wind, “I’ve got to fix this.”

2.

The knight pulls himself into a cave, dripping wet with red drenched ocean water, salt crusting to his skin. He drops onto his back, gasping for breath, and stares up at the ceiling. The ghost of his dead lover stares down at him, gaunt faced and sorrow filled.

“You tried,” says the ghost. “You tried to stop her.”

“It wasn’t enough,” says the knight. “I’ve failed. The world is dying now.”

“All things die eventually,” says the ghost. “The world was not going to be bright and young forever.”

“This shouldn’t be happening. I should have been able to fix it. If I had been stronger - “

“No,” says the ghost. He reaches out and presses fingers to the knight’s cheek, the touch like a breeze in the night, fleeting and false. “You did not do this. The demon is to blame.”

And the knight, wet to the bone and lost in the tides, says, “but I didn’t stop the demon.” And then, reaching up in a touch that’s even softer than the ghosts, fingers threading through starlight hair in an action that has no real feeling to it, “I’ve got to fix this.”

3.

The priest kneels before their alter, clutching at a rosary carved from an abalone shell so hard it cuts into their fingers and splits the skin, red dripping along the glimmering curves the same way that it now stains all of the glass ocean.

The goddess steps out of her stone prison and circles the priest like a predator, just as knife sharp as she is lovely, just as furious as she is mournful, “my children are dead! Dead! And soon, the rest of the world will follow!”

“The demon was never meant to be released again,” agrees the priest, sorrow dripping from their words. “I can feel the world dying already.”

“Forget the world,” says the goddess, coming to kneel before the priest, so massive she should not fit within the chapel halls, so small that her rage should not be contained within her wave lashed form. “My children are dead.”

Finger press against the underside of the priest’s chin, curl around their entire face; a threat and a comfort, like sitting too close to the hearth, like standing on the edge of a precipice right before you jump.

“The knight failed. The witch was tricked. My children are dead. These are facts,” says the goddess, voice a thunder whisper. “Do you know what you must do?”

And the priest, who has never held a sword, who has never left the oceanic temple, who has never done more than worship and love, says with a voice as solemn as an oath, “I’ve got to fix this.”

The goddess, a threat and a promise, responds, “yes. You must.”