#demons run chapter 16

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Chapter 16: New Moon

Summary:  We turn to Spade Kingdom as history is made and Zogratis siblings are doing their best to be there for one another in these confusing times. The new regime under Queen Ciel of Spade knocks on the frontier of Clover Kingdom, looking for what was once theirs. Jayce keeps the secrets of the Wizard King as he struggles to shoulder the burden of all the work he was left behind with. Fuegoleon embarks on a project that will change his life. Yami and William finish up their insignias to present to Julius when a little girl walks in and throws them in for a loop. A nurse in a far away land wonders why this stranger brings her an impending sense of doom.

Notes: 

- Check the notes at the end after reading! They are super important and provide explanations for some stuff. Science or reminding yall of plot points mentioned in previous chapters. - No NSFW - 5.7 k words

“Do you think he is dead?”

Zenon Zogratis kept quiet.

“I mean he has to be if we suddenly came out of the…haze.”

Yesterday, three siblings were planning a strategy for the next battle to push into Clover Kingdom in Dante Zogratis’s office but then, the hold over them just vanished. The malice that motivated them to scorch this kingdom to the ground just…disappeared. There was an hour of panic and existential crisis then Dante went catatonic. Vanica Zogratis stayed quiet in thought for once while Zenon sprung into action. He pulled back all troops and locked up those he knew weren’t just simply listening to orders but actually wanted to hurt people. He lugged Vanica around to use force where it was needed and Dante joined soon after, with a new resolve glimmering in his eyes.

“He fucked with our heads I get that, but why make us forget Aika? I didn’t matter what we remembered or not—”

“That was a different spell.”

Vanica and Dante looked at Zenon with furrowed brows.

“How do you know that?”

“Do I need to explain magic sensing to you two?” He asked quietly as he turned to look at the snowfall. The streets were blanketed in a soft layer of white and people were daring to step outside again. He felt like he was hearing music for the first time again as a miscellaneous group of kids and adults sang songs of home and about flying and being free.

The cathedral in the capital opened its doors once again and a sweet chorus sang. And the whole city sang with them, out loud, under their breaths, and in their hearts.

Across my memory

“Then why did we forget her?”

“It’s not only us, Vanica.” Dante sat next to Vanica with his hands clasped together. “I heard some of the guards and former classmates of hers talking about them suddenly remembering her all at the same time. Some are theorising that she must have hidden her existence for some reason and that she died so the spell must have disappeared with her.”

“That seems most likely, yes.”

“But why at the same time as our brother’s brainwashing?”

Vanica gasped.

“You don’t think?”

“They must have found one another and fought and both died at the same time.”

“But that means Julius should have also died and we would have received news by now if Clover Kingdom’s Wizard King is dead.”

“Not necessarily,” Zenon interjected, slowly pacing back and forth in front of his siblings. “If Lucius died, Julius wouldn’t die just because they share the same body.”

“Isn’t that the basis of them sharing the same body and Lucius choosing to keep Julius alive?”

“I don’t know why Lucius kept Julius alive but I know for a fact that while they ‘share the same body’ their bodies are not the same. Julius had a papercut and when he switched with Lucius, the cut was gone.”

“You noticed that? How?”

“He spent most of the time in Lucius and Julius’s lap so I’m not surprised,” Vanica teased, scooching closer to Dante’s side as he wrapped an arm around her.

Zenon froze when fond memories hit him.

Far away, long ago.

Julius would laugh as he would tickle little Zenon, revelling in his squirms and giggles and then abruptly switch with Lucius so he could experience it first hand too. Zenon would stop slowly when he realised that the hands stopped and they were a bit colder, fingers a bit longer as they laid on his head. He would stare up at his older brother, confused and be met with dark hair and an impassive face and he would hug Lucius anyways, hoping that it would make him happy just as it would make Julius happy.

Glowing as dim an ember,

Things my heart used to know.

Zenon never knew if it worked, but even if it did, it didn’t matter because here he was, far into his adult life, with a reputation as a psychopath and a tyrant, believing that he was serving his country.

All because of him.

Things it yearns to remember.

They were now under house arrest as Queen Ciel assumed the Spade throne, trying to get the domestic and international matters in order.

A knock sounded on his bedroom door and it swung open without giving them a chance to reply.

“I have a message from Queen Ciel.”

Speak of the Devil. Ironic.

“She requests that the most sensible sibling, Zenon Zogratis, come help her figure out some of the paperwork and other matters.”

“Did she throw in that insult too?” Vanica drawled.

And a song someone sings.

“No, I did,” the messenger smirked as she looked at their anti-magic bracelets.

“Whatever, but believe it or not, we actually did the paperwork and the planning and the decisions together ,” Dante lied. “So you would need all three of us to be of any use.”

Zenon went with it, nodding as the messenger looked at him for confirmation. Dante and Vanica would hate to feel left out and he would rather not deal with the whining when he would come back.

“Alright,” the messenger’s magic whizzed through the air, tying them together, tethered to her. “Follow me.”

Zenon sighed as his two older siblings giggled conspiratorially, and they marched to their uncertain futures.

Once upon a December.

Sister Lily sang a song she had been hearing since last night, wafting from the West, where she heard just this afternoon, was liberated from the Zogratis siblings. She smiled.

Hage laid still at the frontier, the Demon Skull casting a shadow as the Sun set in the West and Sister Lily prayed to the Goddess for the people of Spade. She prayed that they may live free again and smile at the same Moon and stars as her.

Asta and Yuno, the oldest children at the church, bounded around the tree where she sat. While Asta chased him in good-natured fun, Yuno had a determined look on his face.

Sister Lily touched her cheek and sighed.

Ever since that day when Yuno was supposed to give a letter to the Mayor and Asta followed him, they both came back, looking extremely beat up. Yuno hadn’t shed a single tear since that day. When asked why, he said he decided to never cry because he needed to be strong if he wanted to be Wizard King.

She didn’t know what to say except support him in his dream. When Asta said the same thing, she felt sad. As much as he was a strong kid with his heart in the right place, she couldn’t encourage him because when he realises that it is completely out of his reach, he will despair.

She could not lie to him like that.

“Sister Lily! Can you hear that?”

A stampede slightly shook the ground and she quickly hid the two kids behind her legs as she looked at the Grand Magic Zone past the forest in worry.

She could see some firelit torches shining between the trees and smoke. It wasn’t an army. It was neither fast nor big but it was a sizable group of people making their way over.

Sister Lily fiddled with the keystone in her pocket given by their new neighbours. Raymond and Lydia said they were retired Magic Knights and were willing to help if need be. She hesitated though. What if it was nothing?

When the first line of men broke through the tree line, she activated the keystone. She wasn’t taking my chances.

The group made their way to her, the only person in sight.

As they got closer, she could see their clothes a bit more clearly. They were men and women of the Spade Kingdom with their fur-lined cloaks and heavy chains keeping them together. These were soldiers.

Sister Lily’s heart raced as she silently prayed for Raymond and Lydia to come quicker.

Jayce stumbled and braced himself against the cold stone wall. Ever since that day he had been plagued by uncomfortable dreams, sometimes edging on the nightmarish side. He could feel himself getting sick with the lack of proper sleep. The dreams, he feared, were not really dreams but memories. Memories of Julius Novachrono. They were not all of his memories, just the disturbing parts of his childhood in Spade Kingdom.

It came to him as a surprise that he was not from around here but he was not the one to judge. Jayce was also not from around here, but from the neighbouring Diamond Kingdom.

Diamond kingdom where many of his sealed sigils exist.

Every seal, every oath, every promise, all sorts of magic broke down in that room that day.

Between visiting Evan, studying, doing Miss Aika’s paperwork as her proxy, and redoing the broken seals not only in Diamond Kingdom but all over the world: in dungeons, caves, under the sea, in uncharted forests and territories but he had some people as capable at sealing magic help him out in various regions. Jayce was so grateful that he only had to execute the final runes of some of them.

Regardless, it was safe to say that with no proper sleep or food for two weeks, he was haggard as all hell and felt it in his soul. He was understandably afraid to even look at himself in the mirror.

“Yo!”

Jayce turned around, not even bothering to hide his exhaustion.

“Mister Arthur,” he looked past the man and saw the Magic Knight Captains following him. That’s strange but Arthur often was. “And Co.”

Fuegoleon waved in greeting as Arthur peeled him off the wall and supported his weight on him. Jayce shook his hand gingerly once he was close enough.

“Congrats on Captainship again, Fuego. It looks good on you.”

“Thank you, Jayce. But weeks of no sleep does not look good on you.”

He laughed hoarsely.

“How is the paper Miss Aika assigned coming along?” The Captains gathered around them, failing to hide their eagerness to listen. Fuegoleon has been working on an idea that Miss Aika had given to him as a present for becoming Captain. She had not even sat down with him and properly congratulated him but simply sent him a letter and a package of books for him to read and research. Books about fire magic, mundane sciences such as chemistry and physics, electricity and magnetism, a rare book about Time Magic by an unnamed author, and for some reason, spirituality and transcendence through magic that is entirely theoretical and never been achieved before. At least on public record. She gave him such an assignment as a gift.

“Well,” Fuegoleon sighed. “I finally have a title for it.”

“I didn’t know you were working on a paper,” Jien sidled up to him, poking in the side light-heartedly, but inwardly, he was dying of curiosity. Fuegoleon is undoubtedly very smart but he had never heard of the man doing any sort of research or writing a paper. “What is it about?”

“‘Reversibility of Entropy through the Attribute of Fire: An Expansion on Laplace’s Demon.’ That’s the title.” Fuegoleon bore a slight frown as he said it.

“Reversibility of Entropy…” Jien tapped his chin as he searched his memory. “People with the Fire attribute did try that before but research has shown that entropy cannot be perfectly reverse engineered unless…” His eyes widened as realisation struck him. “Unless you can use Time Magic!”

Jayce grinned as the fog lifted from his head. Miss Aika was crazy.

“She is trying to teach you Time Magic!” He exclaimed.

Fuegoleon nodded grimly.

“It didn’t make sense why she would do that but after that day…” She was using him as an experiment essentially, to see how people can develop Time Magic through fire.

“Why would she try to teach you Time Magic?” Nozel raised a curious brow. There was something they were not telling about that day two weeks ago when the Captain’s meeting happened.

Fuegoleon looked to Jayce who nodded.

“Because, Miss Aika, like Sir Julius, also uses Time Magic.”

Nozel and the rest of the Captains were silent for a second, then burst into noise.

“What?!” Nozel hissed.

“Is it a weaker version of Time Magic or?”

“There is a reason why there is no record of Time Magic ever.”

“Yes, even Sir Julius’s ability to wield it is a historical moment but everyone knows it’s strange.”

“Mhm. Even his grimoire looks strange.”

“Well, we hide it from the general public because it’s a tactical advantage but we also don’t want negative attention from foreigners overseas. They would want to use it for all sorts of things.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jayce exclaimed, holding his head, taking his time to put together a coherent sentence. Everyone quieted down and looked at him.

“There is no record of Time Magic? Ever?”

“Weaker forms of it had existed before but not to the extent Sir Julius has. Wielding it is believed to be forbidden.” Charlotte offered.

“Why?”

Everyone looked away, uncomfortable with the question posed. Jayce was confused. Why the sudden awkward atmosphere?

Nozel squared his shoulders and spoke up.

“Because a long time ago, the Time Devil, Astaroth had declared when he was summoned that Time Magic will never be wielded by anyone because it’s too much power in any human’s hands.”

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon snarled.

“Hold on. Why is everyone on the edge about this?”

Arthur sighed. “Because in the Clover Kingdom, knowing about devils, forbidden magic and stuff is taboo.”

“That’s the issue? Haven’t all of you maimed and tortured before?”

“I mean yer right but you don’t have to say the quiet part out loud,” The tall, lanky Captain with blades on his forearms harrumphed.

“Then y’all can relax a little bit. So you’re telling me that it’s a little suspicious that they both happened to have Time Magic, both know each other, are born on the same day, share the same blood type, and are a little in love?”

“I don’t buy into that hanky panky superstition stuff,” Gueldere began “but same day, same blood type, and same magic that is supposedly forbidden?” He shook his head. “That sounds awfully suspicious to me.”

“Yeah, just like you,” Jack nudged him in a thinly veiled insult.

“It’s not superstition.” Fuegoleon said as his frown deepened. “In a world of magic, it is an indication of important events.”

“Shouldn’t we all be moving along,” Arthur dramatically waved down the hall. “To the study to meet with your Master that you are oh-so-suspicious of?”

“Well, you don’t think that with your two thousand years of knowledge, it’s a little suspicious? Has there really never been any Time Mages as long as you have lived?”

“Wait, he’s two thousand years old?” A Captain whispered to another.

“No, there have been no Time Mages but there are now and yes it is a significant event and as for the coincidence, extraordinary individuals have extraordinary backgrounds,” Arthur explained in one breath. “There is no conspiracy, there is nothing. Don’t go poking your heads where it doesn’t belong now if we can please move along.”

Fuegoleon looked like he wanted to say more but he kept quiet. He could ask after the meeting.

“Can you walk?” Arthur whispered to Jayce, his arm tightening around his waist.

“I don’t know,” Jayce murmured. Just as quickly as he regained his energy, he lost it again. His body felt heavier and his stomach turned. The older man just sighed and picked him up.

“Where are you headed?”

Jayce didn’t even care to be embarrassed to be carried at his grown age. He was far too tired for it. The last time he saw Arthur, they might have been like cats picking fights for seemingly no apparent reason, but next time they see each other, they always go back to normal. That was simply their dynamic. He laid his head on the man’s chest and sighed,

“The study. The armchairs look really comfy.”

“What a coincidence, we’re headed to the same place.”

Jayce was swimming in and out of consciousness. He just wanted some sleep.

“Mmm.”

Sukehiro Yami brought his painting up to sunlight to see the pencil sketch beneath the painting. The Black Bulls insignia is coming along very nicely. He even used his expensive metallic gold paint for the accent colour, and in his humble opinion, it definitely catches one’s eye.

He looked at William Vangeance’s draft of his own squad’s insignia from the corner of his eye. Yami didn’t know much about the guy except that his Qi was all strange and wrong from the handful of times he worked with him. And today, he found out he was also shit at drawing.

Yami was making all sorts of faces but he most probably can’t even see because peripheral vision is blocked by that ugly mask of his. He had always wondered why he would wear that mask knowing that a good bit of his vision was blocked.

But each to their own, I guess.

His fingers itched to reach for a cig but he refrained considering that he was sitting in a lavish study, stuffed floor to ceiling in books on top of books. Julius may actually get mad for once if he waved a lit one near his books. He’ll be considerate for once.

Only for Julius though.

Yami and William froze when the doors to the study creaked open. They turned expectantly for the Wizard King and Captains to walk in but to their surprise, it was a little girl with long blonde hair who invited herself in. She carried some art supplies under her arm and closed the door quietly behind her.

She toddled over to the coffee table the Captains-to-be were hunching over and made herself comfortable on the floor and table-space opposite to them.

“You guys mind if I use this table?”

“Not at all,” William assured her instinctively but he was still unsure who she was or if she could even be in here.

“Thanks.”

They just stared at her as she kneeled on the floor and spread her supplies out on the table. It looked like she had already finished lining her sketch and just got to colouring. She stuck her tongue out as she concentrated. What felt like forever passed as they stared at her but it had only been a minute.

The little girl sighed as she set her pencil down, exasperated.

“Have you two never seen a kid or something?”

“Where are your parents, kid?” Yami blurted before William could.

“I think it’s more polite to ask someone their name first but okay.” She picked her colour pencil up and continued filling in between the lines. “My mom is on a work trip and my dad is also working.”

“What’s your name, young lady?” William asked, slightly embarrassed. He doesn’t see many kids around except maybe on missions or errands in populated areas. He can’t think of anyone at the Magic Knight headquarters who may have a kid. In his field, everyone would almost instantly know if anyone at work had a kid.

“My name is Holly. Thank you for asking, Cool Mask Guy.”

Yami stifled a laugh at William’s shock. Almost everyone thought that mask of his was tacky but that kid’s quick and honest compliment must’ve been nice.

“Why thank you, Holly.” He smiled. “Do you know anyone in this building?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m not some random kid that wandered into the Magic Knight Headquarters.”

William laughed.

“That’s good! Do you like my mask, Holly?”

“Mhm.” She looked up to take a closer look at it. “It looks good in an ironic way.”

It was Yami’s turn to laugh.

“Haha, thank you,” William covered his mouth as he chuckled. “My name is William, by the way. William Vangeance.”

“Cool name too.”

Holly turned and looked expectantly at Yami.

“Yami Sukehiro.”

“Is that first name, last name or last name, first name?”

“Huh?”

“‘Cause I know in the East you say last name, first name.”

He huffed in amusement. No one had ever realised that before.

“Just call me Yami.”

“Nice to meet you, Yami.”

The three fell into companionable silence after acquainting themselves. After a while, Yami had finished his drawing and sat back to stare at the sealing. Holly got bored of colouring for a bit so she started a new drawing, using the two men in front of her as models. William looked up from his sketching and smiled when he saw that she was drawing them, and she was especially being careful with the way she drew his mask.

“Want to know a cool fact about my mask, Holly?”

“Sure!” She chirped. She seemed to be warming up to them.

“The Wizard King was the one who made this for me when I was younger and he made different sizes of it as I grew older.”

Yami listened indifferently. He didn’t know that but that sounds like something Julius would do. He’s got a soft spot for kids.

Instead of amazement, William was met with a warm smile.

“Yeah. Julius is cool like that.”

“You’re on a first name basis with the Wizard King?” William asked, in half confusion and amusement.

Holly went back to her drawing causally as she said, “Yeah. I think I can be since he’s smooching my mom.”

Yami’s head snapped to her, nearly giving himself whiplash.

Blonde hair, light purple eyes, working dad.

“Are you Julius’s secret love child?”

Holly looked up at him in shock and fell back laughing.

William and Yami just stared at her helplessly. If she was his kid, they felt a little betrayed because Julius hasn't told them a single thing about his life even though they have both known him since they were children. He was so charismatic that most people forget to inquire about him or his family. But even when they did, he had always dodged the question. He did let it slip once that he had a sister but no one dared to make any jokes about it. One guy tried it. He tried to make a poorly constructed joke about becoming Julius’s brother-in-law and everyone in the vicinity who heard the joke saw Julius’s face and found out first hand how terrifying he can be.

“I don’t think his secret love child would be hanging around the building where he works!” Holly guffawed, clutching her stomach. She slowly came to as she wiped tears away, feeling a little bad for the men she left in suspense.

“He’s just courting my mom. I think it’s really cute.”

Yami and William shared a look. Wow. They both sat back in shock.

“Why do y’all look like that?”

“Well, we’ve never heard of our Captain—well, not captain anymore but, we’ve never heard of him courting anyone,” William explained.

“He looks pretty good for his age. And he’s really nice and cool. Why couldn’t he get a date before?”

Yami could not stop laughing at that.

“It’s because I didn’t want to.”

Holly leapt to her feet at the familiar voice of her mother’s lover. He stepped out of the mini passage between his office and study and smiled warmly at them, the corners of his lips reaching his tired eyes.

“Julilus!”

William and Yami stood up at his arrival, the latter man wiping tears as he spluttered with laughter.

“Holly!”

Holly ran and jumped up into Julius’s arms and hugged him tight. He buried his face in her shoulder as he felt oddly emotional. He suddenly missed the days when his wards were younger and now they’re about to become Captains, he missed the memories of his childhood, hugging his younger siblings. He was at his wits end about his past coming back to him but he had to be composed. He was doing his best not to think about Aika because he was losing his peace of mind every time he did. It was a little hard not to when he was hugging her daughter but he has been through harder things in life. He can do this.

Julius pulled back with a sniffle and gave Holly a watery smile when she furrowed her brows at him in concern.

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered.

He had to be fine. He was the Wizard King.

Julius turned his attention to Yami and William.

“Congratulations you two,” Holly stayed close to him, resting on his hip, propped up on his arm. “Chairman Kira has finally approved your Captainship.”

“You knew he would,” Yami smirked, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword and his right brought up to his chest in a Three-Clover Salute. William mirrored him with a polite smile. Julius did know he would. His foresight was a blessing.

“We would be honoured to dedicate our grimoires to you, Sir,” they declared in unison.

Julius beamed with pride. He was so, so proud of how far they have come. Two scraggly little boys who had no dependable adults in their lives; he was glad they had grown to not only depend but look up to him and followed his path to become a Magic Knight and then a Captain. He wanted to peer into the future but he refrained. He was sure one of the two would follow his footsteps to become Wizard King as well.

Julius absolutely refused to let them be pawns in Lucius’s game, raised to be lambs for slaughter.

A young woman, a nurse, wiped down her patient. The man lying in bed was tall with dark, dark hair with purple eyes. Well, purple eye. His other eye was covered with an eye patch for her and everyone else’s safety because it thrummed with ominous mana. Everyone felt like they should avoid it and it was no problem because it doesn’t seem to be causing him any issues.

Purple eyes were common, especially where she was from. In her culture, people believed that it was a sign of great potential; for magic or for life. Mainly for magic though. She lived in a Grand Magic Zone after all.

It was a region called Bain, snowy and white. Only specks of colour were the dark wood and leaves of evergreen trees and plants. It was fine by her though because it was not like she could leave. Her people have adapted to survive in the snowy Grand Magic Zone and have a lot of mana but they cannot survive outside of it because there was so little mana everywhere else. Because of the environment, they also had light skin and even lighter hair to absorb energy from what little sunlight they received. Warm blood, almost literal fire, coursing through their veins, which also makes Fire Magic common amongst them.

So the dark hair was somewhat of a rare sight. The man was clearly not from around here.

They do have adventurers and travelers that pass through their Grand Magic Zone but even then it was kind of rare for this dark of hair.

If she was being honest, she was jealous. She wished she had dark hair. She wished she could be an adventurer and see the world. She heard there are places in the world that are just fantastically green all over or even blue. She wished she was from a place where she wouldn’t have this light hair.

Hyperfixation on his hair aside, the young woman massaged her patient’s calves with her Fire Magic, keeping them warm and blood flowing faster as she eased her mana into the flesh.

Most people’s mana just get overwhelmed after a few days of staying in this region but after a week of staying here, his mana which was depleted before, was actually replenishing at the same rate as natives here. Healers have concluded that he was from another Grand Magic Region and was allowed to stay.

“Listen if I just place the pillow over his face,” her partner whispered in induced madness. “It will open up one more bed for us in the ward. These travelers keep taking up spots that us native folks desperately need!”

She just sighed. This clinic was only for outsiders to use specifically so they don’t take up beds and medical attention away from the natives. But she didn’t even bother correcting them because the homicidal behaviour was due to her patient’s unique mana as a Forbidden Magic user.

She had exposure to forbidden magic before so she was fine but her partner wasn’t. Usually they wouldn’t be in this room but they were a bit short staffed today so they had to step in.

“Okay, Mier. Time for you to step out.” She pushed them out with only a bit of resistance but to her shock, they swiftly side stepped her. Mier grabbed a glass bottle near them, broke it against the wall and lunged at her patient.

She could only watch in horror as her body didn’t move.

Mier threw themselves against the prone man but when they fell on top of him, they fell on the bed.

The man disappeared.

“Sad to see someone lose their sanity like that.”

The young nurse jumped when a voice spoke beside her. She pressed her back against the wall as she looked up in fear at the tall man. Her patient had woken up.

He raised his hands and backed off.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She stayed quiet and breathed deeply when anxiety threatened to clog her mind. But in that brief moment of silence, Mier threw themself again at her patient but the man held them at an arm's length and flicked them between their eyes, hard enough to knock them out.

They went slack and the man caught them before they fell to the ground.

“Sorry, I don’t want him to hurt me so I had to do that.”

“Them,” she corrected him reflexively. But she regretted it because she might’ve made the situation worse. He was definitely toying with her but she didn’t want to incur his wrath.

“Sorry, I didn’t want them to hurt me so I had to do that,” the man smoothly corrected himself as he placed Mier onto the bed he was previously in.

She relaxed. Wow. He took it really well and corrected himself immediately. That told her a lot about his character.

“What’s your name…Miss?” She nodded as she conjured up a shaky smile.

“Gwynevere.”

“Like the Princess of Sunlight?” He asked with a charming smile.

She blushed as she looked at his feet. He was trying to make her feel at ease and she appreciated that.

“Yes.” She was the Princess of Sunlight but he didn’t need to know that. “What’s your name? We…we couldn’t ID you.”

“I have a few names but one that is most known in this area is ‘Sarkany?’” He asked and looked at her to see if that rang any bells. She stared at him blankly. It didn’t.

“Could you go talk to your supervisor about it and maybe bring me some clothes, Gwynevere?”

That’s right. He was standing barefoot and naked in his hospital gown and she should probably let someone know he had woken up.

“I will be right back then.”

He nodded with a polite smile and she walked out without turning her back to him.

He was quick and not lethargic at all meaning he must have been awake for a while but he seems relatively harmless for now. She needed to be careful regardless.

Gwynevere went and explained the situation to the Head Healer. He tsked when she told him what happened to Mier.

“These outsiders will put their hands on anybody, I swear.” She explained to him that Mier was trying to kill the patient but he didn’t care. “Did he tell you his name?” “He said the name ‘Sarkany’ should be familiar.”

The Head Healer grew pale when she said his name. Maybe it did mean something then and she just didn’t know.

“Okay, Okay,” he hastily put his coat on. “Get the man what he wants and treat him as if he were our own.”

Gwynevere grabbed onto his sleeve as he turned away to supposedly go see the man.

“Wait, sir. Who is he?”

“I’m so surprised you don’t know but you are out here from that castle of yours to learn about us common folk and the world anyways so know this: That man is Atropos Tolliver and he is Eidolon’s best agent. He is very strong and not someone to mess with.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. She did know about Eidolon but not about Atropos Tolliver. She could tell he was strong and it made sense.

She brought some loose, brown pants, white shirt and a long strip of cloth to tie around his waist while her supervisor spoke to the man she was assuming.

She neared the door and she heard voices talk.

“No, no. Mier may have had trouble but Miss Gwynevere was the perfect caretaker.”

“Thank you, thank you! I’m glad to hear that her training has paid off. I am so sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier, Sir. You didn’t make your portrait public so I hope you understand…”

“Absolutely. Please don’t treat me any differently and contact the guild for the expenses. They should pay it in full.”

Gwyn walked in and felt strange when their eyes turned to her. She handed his clothes to him and stepped back as she looked at the floor.

“Thank you,” he said solemnly and she felt her ears burn.

Later after he checked out, he stopped her as she passed by him.

She craned her neck up to look at him in his one eye.

“I studied Medicine when I was your age.” Gwyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “You demonstrated excellent use of mundane and magic techniques in your physiotherapy for me. Well done.”

“How long were you awake?”

“Long enough. I apologise if that makes you uncomfortable.”

She shook her head.

“No, I was just wondering…You’re welcome. I was just doing my job.”

He patted her on the head as he walked out.

Gwyn stared at his back and wondered if she would ever see him again. Why did she feel that way? She didn’t know. Her heart was beating fast and it was in her throat. That man was scary for reasons she knew, but she wondered about what she didn’t know. The red cloak he borrowed billowed in the wind and the door snapped shut behind him.

That was not the last time she would see him.

Notes:

- In the first scene, the song “Once Upon a December” from Anastasia is playing and the lyrics are displayed in the scene.

- Next chapter, how will the former Wizard King and his wife deal with the uninvited guests? How will Julius and the Captains react when they see Yami and William’s squad insignias? When will Gwyn see Atropos again?

- As you could’ve guessed by now, Atropos is Aika. Aika having transformation magic and it being limited to her being a man was referenced in earlier chapters with Aika’s conversations with Julius.

- Sarkany was also a code name used for her in this region of the world. It’s the name that Sven, the assassin, used when he came to kill Aika.

- Julius is suffering right now but we don’t get to see the depth of it until the next chapter.

- What is Fuegoleon working on? You can ask me all about it on my tumblr or find out in chapter 17 or 18.

- Laplace’s demon is an old idea of determinism in Newtonian days that basically says that if you know the past, you could explain the present and if you know the present, you could predict the future with equations and such. When we’re talking about the future, we’re talking about the movement of objects and particles and such. This idea of determinism in science was cast aside when scientists realised that the world has random components and forces in it that cannot be predicted and this is the science of chaos. A part of why determinism in science doesn’t work is because the entropy of the universe, the disorder of particles as they expand, is very chaotic and unpredictable after a certain extent. So you cannot reverse entropy, physically or mathematically.

- So, Fuegoleon is trying to use his understanding of fire and heat to reverse entropy but that would mean using Time Magic. But it doesn’t have to be time magic specifically, but it can be time magic as a magic form. Magic forms are basically sub classes of the attributes in Black Clover. For example, trap magic even though Zora has Ash Magic, transformation magic when Julius has time magic, memory magic even though Ralph has fire magic, etc.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 16 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You needed to rein in your anger for now. Jinwoo needed to defeat Baran as quickly as possible to obtain the ingredients necessary to cure his mother. Even though he might not yet know whether it would work, you did. The future you knew was enough to justify setting aside… whatever this was for the time being.

It was clear that Jinwoo wanted your support; otherwise, he would have already gone to the Demon Castle. You should have convinced him to go solo. According to the story, he’d be fine. Your interference might bring troublesome consequences, yet you wanted to help him—perhaps selfishly this time.

You still blamed yourself for what happened to his mother. You knew her eternal slumber was meant to drive Jinwoo to grow stronger. But you had the power to prevent it, to cure her, and yet—

At one point, you unconsciously began to feel that helping him was a way of making amends—for your helplessness, for things out of your control. Not just his mother [Why do you blame yourself?] but also for not arriving sooner from the garden. For being too late to save his father, even if the system might have stopped you anyway. You could have tried. Yet you were too late [it’s not your fault]. Too late to save his father. Too late to help the people devastated by Kamish.

[It was out of your control.]

---

The garden was as serene as ever, a tranquil oasis filled with blooming flowers and butterflies flitting through the air. The soft hum of nature provided a soothing backdrop, yet the tension inside you was anything but calm. You sat at your usual spot by the gazebo, sipping tea from a delicate cup, waiting for him to arrive via the invitation you’d sent with your butterflies.

When Jinwoo stepped into your domain, the portal sealed behind him.

Was it just you, or did he look more haggard than usual? Was it because of your… disagreement? He shouldn’t care that much about you. You needed to be sure of that. Otherwise… you didn’t know what would happen to this story.

"(Name), I'm sorry—" Jinwoo began, his voice tentative, but you cut him off with a raised hand.

"Sit," you said simply, taking another sip of tea. Your tone was measured, calm, but there was no room for argument.

To his credit—or perhaps his detriment—Jinwoo sat immediately, like an obedient dog, responding to its master’s command.

You laughed, and he flinched, thinking he’d done something wrong again. But you laughed because of the irony. Here sat the soon-to-be strongest man in the world, obeying you like a lost puppy. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, feel exhilarated, uneasy, or all of the above.

It was both endearing and unsettling.

You needed to address this situation—quickly.

But for now, Jinwoo needed to focus.

"Let’s set that aside for now," you said, waving off his attempt at an apology. You noticed him opening his mouth again, perhaps to protest, but one sharp look from you silenced him effectively. Lovely.

At least he listens when it matters.

"You need to return to the Demon Castle to gather the final material for crafting the Holy Water of Life, correct?"

"Y-yeah," Jinwoo stammered, caught off guard by your directness.

"Then why are you still here?" Your voice held a firm edge. Why hadn’t he already gone? He didn’t need you for this, not really.

"I—" Jinwoo faltered, the words dying in his throat. He was going to ask you to accompany him, but why? Why didn’t he use this time to leave, to step away from your anger? He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but leaving without resolving things with you felt… wrong.

Running away from this felt wrong.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. The tea in your cup swirled as you tilted it slightly, your thoughts as restless as the liquid. "I’ll help you," you said at last, the words measured but sincere. "Though I’m not sure how much help I’ll actually be. Just give me time to prepare.”

He clearly hadn’t expected that. “You don’t have to—”

"I don’t," you interjected, cutting him off once more. Your gaze softened as you set the teacup down and folded your hands on the table. "But I want to. Let’s just leave it at that."

Oh.

Jinwoo felt an odd sense of déjà vu. It reminded him of the past, back when he was weakest. When he didn’t know anything about his mysterious benefactor. When he didn’t know you.

Thank you. He wanted to say it, but it didn’t feel like enough. It never did.

You took his silence as agreement, your lips curving into a faint smile despite yourself.

---

The silence stretched on, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Jinwoo fidgeted slightly.

“I—” Jinwoo hesitated. Should he bring up that dinner? No. It wasn’t the right time, not when you were setting your fight aside for his sake.

“Hm?” you prompted.

“…Can you train Tusk?” Jinwoo blurted out, summoning the High Orc Shaman before he could stop himself. The towering figure of Tusk knelt immediately, his glowing eyes filled with both reverence and curiosity as he regarded you, and… confused by his nervous master.

You arched a brow, eyeing the orc, setting down your teacup with a soft clink.

Jinwoo scratched the back of his neck. “He’s good at casting spells—” He winced at his poor wording. “I… I thought he could learn a thing or two from you—”

You moved, and Jinwoo stiffened. Standing from your seat, you approached the kneeling Tusk, your footsteps soft against the gazebo’s stone floor. Tusk, to his credit, remained perfectly still, though his glowing eyes followed your every move.

Reaching out, you placed a hand gently atop his head, patting him lightly.

The orc blinked. Jinwoo blinked.

"Alright," you said simply.

You smiled—a genuine smile that Jinwoo hadn’t seen in days.

It was meant for Tusk, sure, but his shadows were an extension of himself. And Jinwoo… Jinwoo clung to that small glimmer of hope.

---

“Enchanting equipment?” you asked, your voice cool and composed.

“Yes.” Jinwoo nodded, carefully pulling two items from his inventory. “A few days ago, I bought some gear in preparation to return to the Demon Castle.” He handed you the wind-attribute robe and the nameless ring imbued with a water-attribute.

You regarded the items with a practiced eye, fingers grazing the surface of the robe before both pieces floated midair, enveloped in your signature silver aura. Jinwoo watched as your shoulders relaxed, your eyes fluttering closed.

His gaze remained fixed as your butterflies began to swirl, seamlessly merging with your aura as they danced around the equipment. Your hair swayed gently with the magical currents, and for a moment, Jinwoo was captivated.

The light flared momentarily before dispersing, the butterflies scattering back into the garden. The robe and ring floated down gently into your open hand. Without a word, you handed them back to Jinwoo.

Out of curiosity, he activated the system to inspect their stats, and his eyes widened in shock. The equipment’s overall defense had tripled. Not doubled—tripled!

The robe’s magic resistance and affinity were leagues beyond its original state, and the ring now pulsed with latent power, its water attribute refined into something far more potent. Even the overall quality of the items had improved dramatically.

“You’re… you’re really amazing,” Jinwoo said, awe dripping from his tone as he examined the equipment.

You hummed in acknowledgment, though your focus had already shifted to your butterflies, idly letting them land on your fingers and shoulders.

You still weren’t looking at him.

Oh right. Jinwoo’s expression faltered as the realization hit. You were still giving him the silent treatment.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Jinwoo’s reaction—his head tilted down, his shoulders slightly slumped, his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked like a dejected puppy, an image made even more comical by his flickering gaze, which kept darting to you as if waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

Your butterflies noticed, fluttering inquisitively toward Jinwoo before retreating back to you. Jinwoo’s shadows, peeking through the faint dark mist at his feet, mimicked the butterflies with exaggerated shrugs, clearly as lost as he was about what to do.

You didn’t react.

---

Yeesh.

Jinho shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, glancing between the two of you as the car sped down the road. The silence inside was suffocating—not quite as unbearable as the last time he’d seen the two of you together, but still tense enough to make him itch for some form of normalcy.

His Unnie sat by the window, her head resting lightly against the glass, staring at the passing scenery. She hadn’t said a word since they left. His Hyung, seated in the opposite side of the passenger seat from her, occasionally flicked his gaze toward her, his brow furrowing ever so slightly before his focus returned to the road.

The tension was palpable.

Jinwoo cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Were you able to sleep well?” he asked, addressing Jinho.

“Yes, Hyung-nim. Unnie is really a great host!” Jinho replied, his tone overly chipper as he tried to ease the atmosphere.

For the briefest of moments, he caught the smallest of smiles gracing your lips. It was faint and fleeting, but it was there. Before he could even process it, your expression returned to its usual steady, composed look.

The silence resumed.

This time, it was Jinho who cleared his throat awkwardly. “By the way, what business do you two have at the World Tower this early?”

“We’ll be going,” Jinwoo answered curtly.

Your gaze flickered to Jinho, and you added, “Take care of my shop in my absence, okay, Jinho?”

“Wait, what—?” Before Jinho could even finish his sentence, both of you were gone.

Jinho blinked, staring at the now-empty car. “Huh?” he muttered to himself, still processing the abrupt departure.

He sighed, leaning back in the seat. “Well… at least the tension’s gone now…”

---

“As we practiced, Tusk!” Your voice carried across the battlefield, clear and commanding.

Jinwoo stood at a safe distance, watching as the shadow of the high orc shaman obeyed your order, prepared to unleash a spell. Tusk raised the Orb of Avarice high, the artifact shimmering as it expanded to match his increased size.

“Fire!”

The command was punctuated by a deafening explosion of power. The beam tore through the battlefield, obliterating every demon in its path, only leaving a charred crater. The heat from the explosion rippled outward, stirring dust and debris, carrying with it the echoes of decimation.

Jinwoo whistled in appreciation, folding his arms as he observed the carnage. Behind him, his shadows shifted, and your butterflies fluttered in synchronized patterns, as if admiring the display.

Meanwhile, you floated upward, your butterflies swirling protectively around you. Once you reached Tusk’s massive head, you landed lightly, patting the shaman’s forehead.

“Well done!” you praised, your voice warm. A neon blue butterfly followed your gesture, landing on Tusk’s—well, tusk.

The shadow rumbled in satisfaction, his massive shoulders relaxing as he basked in the praise. Jinwoo couldn’t help but chuckle

Yeah, he thought, a small smirk tugging at his lips, leaving Tusk’s training to her was definitely the right call.

---

“Say, can your butterflies level up?” Jinwoo began as his dagger sliced cleanly through a demon, sending the dark creature crumpling to the ground. “Like my shadows?”

You were a short distance away, directing a volley of butterflies toward a cluster of demons. The faint hum of system constant notifications rang in Jinwoo’s mind as both your forces and his defeated demons across the floor in the coordinated teams.

“Yes, they can,” you replied, casting a spell that sent silvery light streaking toward Jinwoo. His health bar filled rapidly, minor scratches on his arms close up. A boost in mana regeneration and overall speed left him feeling reinvigorated as he flexed his fingers.

“They gain power differently, though,” you continued, spinning your scepter once to clear some demons encroaching on your position. “Instead of receiving direct experience points from defeating enemies, they grow stronger by feeding on lifeforce. It’s a continuous process, and it takes significantly more time.”

Jinwoo hummed, parrying a claw strike from a nearby demon. He glanced back at you as you effortlessly destroyed another group with a volley of silver projectiles.

You nodded. “They also have ranks similar to your shadows, but the system referred to them as stages of metamorphosis. Egg, Larva, Pupa, and Adult. Their forms change at each stage. Sometimes they grow larger, sometimes their colors or wing patterns shift, and so on. The last time I maxed them out, though, the ‘Adult’ stage was locked, so my strongest children remained in the ‘Pupa’ stage.”

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly, avoiding a beam of light that zipped past where his head had been moments before. The shot hit its mark, incinerating a line of demons behind him. He didn’t bother turning to check the scorched corpses. His focus stayed on you.

Your scepter glimmered in your hand, its tip still smoking faintly from the spell. You ran a hand down its length, your expression calm and calculated as more demons circled you and him.

“To ascend to the next stage, each butterfly requires specific ascension materials. The materials differ depending on the field I want them to excel in—whether it’s devouring, illusions, healing, or something else entirely,” you continued. Your voice was steady, even as you broke into a sprint straight toward him.

Jinwoo remained perfectly composed, lowering one hand, bracing himself. Without hesitation, you plant your foot in his palm, and he used his strength to propel you into the air. The dagger held in his other hand slashed cleanly through the demon hot on your heels.

Midair, you spun gracefully, casting multiple magic circles that hovered around you like constellations. Beams of concentrated light erupted from them, carving through the horde of demons surrounding Jinwoo with pinpoint accuracy. The spells struck true, decimating the creatures while leaving Jinwoo untouched in the center.

You landed gracefully, the silver aura around you dispersing as your butterflies fluttered back to various parts of the battlefield, supporting Jinwoo’s soldiers.

“It was something I gave the system feedback about. It’s why your shadows only need your permission to rank up.” You brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“A single Larva-stage butterfly is more than equal to an entire kaleidoscope of its siblings still in the Egg stage. And that comparison holds for the higher stages as well.”

Jinwoo’s eyes followed the graceful movements of your butterflies, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “So… when do you get to name them?” he asked casually, flicking the blood from his blade.

You turned to him sharply, your expression almost scandalized. “My children are living, sentient beings, Jinwoo. I name them as I see fit.”

Jinwoo smirked. “You’re telling me you memorize all their names? From the look of it, you’ve got hundreds—no, thousands of them.” He chuckled, expecting you to roll your eyes or laugh.

Instead, you looked at him blankly, reply just as flat, “Yes.”

Jinwoo opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. After a second, he closed it again and shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Of course, you do,” he murmured, bemused. Honestly, he should’ve expected that. It was just so you.

A voice echoed in your mind, soft and respectful.

My Lady, Sir Jinwoo’s shadows have located the entry permit. We can now ascend to the next floor.

“Red informed me that Igris’ team found the entry permit,” you relayed to Jinwoo.

He raised a brow. “Red?”

“The child who always hovers to my right,” you said, and as if on cue, Red fluttered down to your shoulder. You patted her wings lightly, murmuring, “Well done.”

Igris materialized behind Jinwoo, confirming the butterfly’s report with a respectful nod.

Jinwoo made a mental note to ask you more about your telepathic connection and the mechanics of how your butterflies were born. For now, it was time to ascend.

“Let’s move.”

Together, you ascended to the 80th floor.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [18/11/2024] -

[balsamfir-fics]

a hope redefined (prelude)

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), eventual dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family.

Chapters: Prelude

Chapter Word Count: ~1.3k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Previous fics summarized below if you don't have time to read them!

Prequel summary: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.

A Hope at Risk follows canon for episodes 5-9 of Season 1, with some references to LoL lore for post-Season 1 events. Viktor hides his prognosis and the nature of his Hexcore experiments from YN for as long as possible, until his life is in jeopardy after the Council attack and YN finally finds out. YN and Jayce share the decision-making burden in not destroying the Hexcore so that Viktor's life can be saved. Viktor withdraws while processing all of these black-swan events (Hexcore integration, new city of Zaun, his Zaunite and Piltovan identities, etc), but hopes to work through his demons enough to return to YN. In the meantime, he moves to Emberflit Alley in Zaun where he hopes to rebuild who he is and figure out who wants to be.

If missed, the prior work notes that Viktor refers to YN as 'Sparrow' sometimes, which is because he finds her lively and likeable.

This last work refers to Arcane Season 1 canon first and foremost, then interprets post-Season-1 events by incorporating elements from older LoL lore. The majority of this piece will not follow Season 2 canon as it's not out at the time of writing, but Viktor's plotline in this work is written to be as plausible of a Season 2 fan theory as possible.

The first work in this series deals primarily with hope as per the title; the second deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided. This final work reckons with recovery, rebirth, and rebuilding.

Hope, as the past five years has taught Viktor, is not quite the out-of-reach temptress he once believed it was, but rather a willful act of empowerment that even he is entitled to pursue.

It’s a bit of an odd lesson for him. During decades of wanting, but not having, he thought perhaps hope was a thing intended only for others — never him. He now thinks back to those days, remembering his own failure to quell the little flickers he felt, despite what he considered to be careful, methodological, and supposedly fool-proof efforts. How could his sixteen-year-old self, shown blissful perfection for mere minutes before having his heart torn away from him, ever have fathomed that there was something that came after despair? How would he, at 28, know that the little flame of hope he forgot to extinguish would grow to a blaze of success? Even more important — how could he have ever known that a sickly boy from the undercity could be given a second lease on life?

These second chances he never expected to receive (and one, even, that he still struggles with accepting) are the reason he is here today, he reminds himself. And here so happens to be in the arms of your post-coital form, watching as you struggle to calm your breathing. This affirms two things that he thought to be impossibilities: you’re his partner, and he’s — somehow — alive.

Such boons come with their own set of costs, of course. The cool metal of his peculiar augmentations serve as a daily reminder of what he gave up for science, for life, and for society. In part, he surrendered some of his humanity; though he's grateful to live another day in your presence, something that nearly feels sentient lives within him as sustenance. Nevermind the brief euphoria he felt running at the docks; the Hexcore might be a curse, he thinks, but it saved his life. In other ways, he lost control over his moral sensibilities; the breaths he’s allowed to take now were given to him against his consent, and the corrupted Hexcore remains, undestroyed, within him. Skye’s life was taken by the very thing keeping him in the mortal realm, and he endures the guilt of her death with every second his life goes on longer than hers.

He’s spent the greater part of the past few weeks in agony, mostly of the emotional sort as the foreign, willful hum of the Hexcore inside him makes quick work of healing his most severe injuries. Tormented by his conscience, his fear, and a profound sense of losing himself, Viktor knows he’s made a series of hurtful decisions to part from his entire family in Piltover. He knows that some of these relationships will have seen their heyday and may be beyond repair — not for lack of effort, but by the predicament of the turbulent political climate created in the aftermath of the Council attack. But such efforts must be taken one step at a time, one person at a time. Fixated on working on himself so that he might stand by you as his full self and not a broken, conflicted version, he furiously set plans in motion no matter his uncertainty. At his first sign of some satisfactory progress (to his standards), he allowed himself the small luxury of reaching out to you. He’d intended to only start a conversation, hoping to restore the full effect of your relationship as best as one might during a powder keg of a political situation. At most he’d expected that you might see each other in a few months to a year after letting letters and counseling do the work of rebuilding.

Naturally, you (fearless, fearless you, Viktor thinks) showed up on his doorstep at first chance instead. He would never complain, but after two nights of your warmth in his bed and the impossible pleasure of your daily company, the worries that prevented him from seeing you earlier seep back in.

As if you can sense his rising anxiety, you stir against him now after having come back down to Terra. He smiles at the dazed, incomprehensible murmur you make with your lips against his bare shoulder. You ease him, somewhat, but the kernel of worry remains. Viktor presses kisses to the top of your head. You tighten your arms around him, blinking back into reality under the dim Zaunite glow that filters into his bedroom.

“It’s still early,” he hums. “I’m sorry I woke you for…” (You raise your eyebrows knowingly, pressing naked self into him more intently). Viktor elects to finish his sentence carefully. “…For certain activities.” He coughs, making you smile at the dichotomy of his bashfulness after rather intense morning spent with his face between your legs. “You should get some more rest.”

Never one to be told what to do, you frown slightly, then prop yourself into an elbow. But Viktor is adamant you take care of your health (never mind that he’s notoriously bad at doing the same for himself), especially in these polluted depths. Pulling you to the washroom for the loo and a quick rinse, he then leads you back into his small bed for a few more hours of shut-eye. Later when he tries to wake you for a tardy breakfast, he chuckles at the trail of dried saliva you hurriedly wipe away — at least it’s a strong indication that you’re able to sleep soundly despite the constant bustle in the streets of Zaun. His small unit is a far cry from the sweeping wings of the Heimerdinger Estate that you’re accustomed to, and it’s still much less comfortable than even his modest apartment back in Piltover. In the least, he’d managed to pull together a rudimentary air filter from spare materials he brought with him from the academy lab and hopes that it lasts long enough for the duration of your stay.

Then he realizes something. He has no idea how long you’ll be here in Emberflit Alley with him. Hopefully not long, he thinks. Not because he wants to stop seeing you, no — rather, Zaun is no place for a Piltovan at present, and the small alley he’s in now was chosen for its seclusion instead of its relative quality of living. The dangers to you in the former undercity are many; if not to your health by means of pollutants, then by the constant stirrings of war that are whispered in the streets, emboldened by the Council attack and the topside confusion that remains unresolved. The pit in his stomach grows. You shouldn’t be here. No matter how much he would prefer to bask in your presence.

Nonetheless, you are here and these precious minutes are not to be wasted. You sit up, concerned by the change in his expression as thoughts race through his brilliant mind. “Vitya?”

“Hm?” He shakes his head slightly as if to rid himself of his thoughts, then pushes himself off of the bed to lean against his crutch. “Ah, I made a quick meal in case you might be a bit peckish. It’s not much, but it’s enough.”

You survey him, waiting to see if he might share what he was thinking of. Viktor merely tilts his head in the direction of his kitchen with a half-smile. He waits patiently as you grind your teeth in your decision to stay in bed longer or satisfy your hunger, electing to savor the moments he can with the extra time he’s been given, and pushes away his niggling concerns for now. His leg twinges as if to remind him who he has to thank, but when you slot yourself into him and support his side (arm wrapped tightly around his waist), he melts into your warmth and feels his worries — temporarily — fade into the background.

The road ahead might be immensely difficult and fraught with tragedy, he thinks. But mornings like these make it all worth it. As he wraps his own arm around your shoulders and nestles your head onto his, Viktor silently vows to help ensure that you and Runeterrans — all Runeterrans, not just the privileged few — get to have a future filled with such mornings.

[boinin]

Blue Lock volume cover analysis

An examination of unusual features and chains among the 31 volumes released to date. Subject to revision.

Like this? Want to reference these points in your own analysis on Reddit, YouTube, wherever? Go ahead! A shout out to this post is appreciated. Straight up plagiarism isn’t.

Volume 8: Mikage Reo

Reo's chains are noticeably shaded green. Guess whose eyes glow green when they're fired up...

In addition, @thyandrawrites has a theory that Reo ties/reties his hair up as a way to maintain emotional composure. The volume covers tend to represent the character's personality or struggles in some sense. If so, this is an early nod to the emotional trials Reo endures during the series.

Volume 10: Tokmitsu Aoshi

No chain weirdness here, but Tokimitsu is surrounded by black gunk in his cover. This may be a visualisation of his anxiety and the way he copes with it: running at speed and bulldozing through his opponents.

Volume 11: Ego Jinpachi

Ego's cover depicts him totally immobilised by the four chains bound to his neck. To date, no other character has been more restrained by the chains. This likely represents that Ego's fate is utterly dependent on the outcome of Blue Lock. His cover also suggests that Blue Lock (and football) consume Ego's life.

Volume 12: Shidou Ryuusei

Shidou's chains have a blue glow, much like Sendou's in volume 27. This glow is far closer to Shidou's collar however. It could imply that Blue Lock is the beginning of Shidou's pursuit of football.

He's also depicted with demon wings. The collar or chains don't impede his movement significantly, unlike other characters. In addition to portraying his incredible physicality, this could also visually represent how Blue Lock has failed to subdue Shidou.

Volume 16: Oliver Aiku

Aiku's chains are wrapped tightly around his arm and he's pulling them taut. The chains themselves appear rusted and cracked, most notably on his collar. This could represent Aiku's relationship with football. He grew jaded with being a striker in high school. Becoming a defender, then the match against Blue Lock, revitalised his enthusiasm. Hence, the chain is holding fast: he's just as ensnared by football (and Blue Lock) as the others.

Volume 17: Itoshi Sae

Sae and his chains are bathed in radiant gold light, which is associated with both divinity and wealth. His chains crumble in one place, and remain barely intact. I offer two interpretations for this. Firstly: unlike the others, Blue Lock does not have a strong impact on Sae—his success as a footballer is completely independent of it.

Secondly: if we take the chain to represent Sae's footballing career, the crumbling chain could allude to a time when football negatively impacted him. Perhaps whatever happened in Madrid? But he came back stronger, as the rest of his chains appear even more golden.

Volume 18: Teieri Anri

Anri is the only character depicted without chains or a collar. While working with Ego is a prison sentence in its own right, the artwork suggests that her ambition and future isn't connected to the outcome of Blue Lock. It can also be interpreted as a nod to the hierarchy within Blue Lock. Anri is Ego's boss and thus, she is free while he is constrained. However...

Zoom in on the reflection on her phone screen. It appears to reflect a wide grin—which can only be one person's. Taking into account her passivity in chapter 247, this detail positions Anri as Ego's accomplice: willing to do his bidding, no matter how amoral.

Volume 19: Michael Kaiser

Kaiser's collar and chains are made of glass, through which his blue rose tattoo is visible. As chapter 243 told us, a blue rose represents the impossible to Kaiser. Glass chains suggests that his ego or ties to football are fragile, and could be broken easily. Symbolically, glass can also represent transparency. As a character, Kaiser is upfront about his talent and desires. Nobody is in doubt about his footballing mantra or his intent to undermine Isagi.

Volume 20: Alexis Ness

Ness's chains are entwined with blue rose brambles, all but for a short length to the top right of the image. While Ness came to love football independently, seeing it as magical, the rose brambles show that his connection to football is now inseparable from his devotion to Kaiser. It also reflects that Ness would not be a professional footballer without Kaiser, as per chapter 242/243.

Volume 24: Hiori Yo

Hiori is the only character shown holding the end of his chain, which is secured by a football-shaped weight. This suggests that Hiori himself is the one in control of his career, rather than external forces. Football is a burden to him, albeit something he can carry. Therefore, Hiori is not ensnared by the chains (or Blue Lock) to the same extent as other characters. Appropriate for a character guaranteed to succeed as a footballer, but who ultimately may not choose to pursue it.

Volume 25: Niko Ikki

Niko's volume cover is hilarious. I'll leave the explaining to Tomo-tan, who lays out the humour and genius of Niko's cover in this great Reddit post.

Volume 26: Don Lorenzo

Members of the New Generation World XI have no chill when it comes to their covers, and Don Lorenzo is no exception. His collar shows bite marks, as though chewed through. Gold teeth are good for more than caramel popcorn, apparently.

Lorenzo's chains are accompanied by what looks like electricity. This suggests that football reanimated Lorenzo from near death, as per chapter 216. It's a visual nod to his playstyle, which resembles the incessant pursuit of a zombie. Guess we can call him Snuffy's Monster.

Volume 27: Sendou Shuuto

A blue glow appears on Sendou’s chains, halted from travelling further by his fist. This may represent the threat Blue Lock poses to Sendou's footballing career. He's already been kicked as the striker of the national team; now in the Neo Egoist League, he must battle for a place on the new U20 line-up. No easy feat, as his sweaty face implies.

Another detail worth mentioning is that the trajectory of one of Sendou's chains appear to align with the chain Aiku's pulling in his cover. This similarity, and the fact that they're both holding their chains, may be interpreted as a nod to their status as former U20 teammates—likely the only ones that will make the new team, going off the latest NEL auction table.

Volume 29: Nanase Nijiro

Debated adding him, but eh—I wrote up Reo's cover. Nanase's illustration (incl. the chains) is shaded green… similar to Rin's eyes and aura colour. His chain jerks right and left in a nod to his ambidexterity.

Volume 30: Tsurugi Zantetsu

Another gag cover on par with Niko's, albeit less clever (intentionally?). Zantetsu's chain is made of shapes you'd associate with a toddler's learning shapes toy.

Volume 31: Charles Chevalier

Charles's cover is a double whammy. He gets two colours like Aiku, reflecting his capricious nature. Gold and metallic are representative of his high worth. The background spirals are a definite nod to the Cheshire Cat, a character Charles states he likes in an end of volume character profile.

The chains are shaped like the devil emojis that appear in Charles's dialogue. The chains also feature two materials: an alternating light and dark metal with no evident pattern. This perhaps represents the way his passes are hit or miss, or the way he decides who to send passes to on a whim.

[lou-struck]

Up All Night

Belphegor x reader

~Belphie gets splashed with Night Cricket essence and is cursed to hear their calling all through the night.

W.C: 3.5k

Warnings: Brief mention of Obey Me Chapter 16, slight angst, Belphie being crabby and kinda mean since he is tired.

Poor Belphegor can hardly keep his eyes open. It may be the early afternoon, but the Avatar of Sloth just arrived back at the House of Lamination after taking a make-up test at RAD. The reason he had to retake the test was not because he got a poor grade or anything; he just was too tired the day off and chose to sleep through all three of his alarms and, subsequently, the exam.

But now that that's over with, he can finally take his afternoon nap,

His head hangs low as he sluggishly trudges through his home. Searching for the perfect place to rest his head. His favorite cow-printed pillow secure in his arms as he pokes his head into your room.

Much to his disappointment, he sees that you are still out running errands or doing something equally as exhausting. Normally, he would have no problem falling asleep in your bed, but today, he is feeling a bit adventurous.

Today, for some reason. He is home alone which means he is presented with with rare opportunity to fall asleep anywhere. 

But where should he go?

Lucifer's office?

Leviathan's Bathtub?

That really comfy carpeted spot in Asmodeus' closet?

All this thinking only tires him out more as he wanders into the quiet living room. And when his violet eyes come to rest on the long plush sofa, he knows what he must do.

'I haven't slept there in a while," he says to himself. His legs feel like they are made of lead as they carry him toward the rose-scented cushions. He doesn't even bother to pay attention to the Akuzon package that rests on the little side table that he passes.

His pillow bumps the table and sends the little package tumbling to the ground. The box rolls a bit, and the sound of breaking glass reaches his ears.

'I hope that wasn't important,' he yawns, shrugging off any concerns he had and plopping down onto the couch and falling into a deep sleep.

Unaware of the nightmare he has created for himself.

~ 

The front door had just shut behind you when you heard a shrill screech of horror coming from the living room. Your breath hitches as you drop your floral printed tote bag to the ground and rush towards the sound, magic brimming at your fingers, ready for anything.

But as you rush through the doorway, you see the purple-haired Avatar of Envy on his knees, hunched over a fallen Akuzon package. The magic at your fingers fizzles away, and you sigh, seeing that Belphegor still sleeps comfortably on the couch despite his older brother's meltdown.

"Belphie, what did you do to my package?" Levi screeches, reaching over the couch and shaking his youngest brother roughly from his slumber.

He stretches out like a cat and smacks his lips sleepily as he sits up. "Oh, hey Levi. What's in the box?"

Levi sighs and looks down at the open box. Pulling out what looks to be the neck of a broken bottle. "It was the night cricket essence I ordered, but you broke it."

The Avatar of Sloth looks lazily between the box and his brothers. "Oh? I guess I did. I'm sorry, Levi."

"What's night cricket essence?" You ask, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of the sofa where Belphie's legs are.

"Night crickets are a special kind of bug known to keep demons up at night; I wanted to put a few drops of their magic into my energy drinks so I can stay up all night to play games."

Your eyes widen at Levi's explanation; the Otaku hardly gets enough sleep as it is; he doesn't need some hardcore magical caffeine supplement to keep him wired. "No, you definitely should not do that, ever."

He crossed his arms and huffs, "It's not like I can anymore. He broke the bottle, and the shop I got it from just got shut down."

"I wonder why?" Belphie chimes in, sitting up just a bit more to grab your hand. Even though you are seated on the same couch as him, he feels like you are too far away.

Levi's face is a deep crimson color and he looks like he is ready to burst. "That's not the point. You broke my package and now I won't be able to play through my new game all in one sitting. Everyone is going to find all the hidden items before me, and I'll look like a complete loser on my server."

"Yeah, that is what will make you look lame." The avatar of sloth quips back with youngest sibling-level sass. You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to keep a straight face and not damage Levi's already fragile ego. 

"Anyways," you clear your throat, trying your best to desolate this situation. "Levi, you really shouldn't buy things like that. It could really mess you up. And I hate to see you uncomfortable."

Levi looks at you with a grateful smile. "Oh, Mc, you really do care. Even if I am just a pathetic little shut-in. I'm going to make my avatar in the game look just like you as extra motivation to stay alive." he grins, rushing down the hallway, ready to play his game.

Now alone, you look to Belphie, who looks like he is about to fall back asleep holding on to your hand. "Don't you dare," you scold, taking your hand out of his. "You are on dinner tonight, and you are not sleeping through it again and buying takeout."

"But everyone loves Hell's Kitchen." he yawns, looking at you with a pleading expression. 

Standing strong you ignore his puppy dog eyes and give him a knowing look. 

"Fine, you win Mc." He sighs, taking your hand. "But you have to help me since it's too tiring for me to do it all on my own." You fight the chuckles as he leads you into the kitchen to be his sous chef for the evening."

~

Hours later, Belphie finds himself in his bedroom. His stomach is full, his teeth are brushed, and he slips on a cool pair of pajamas. 

He may be able to fall asleep anywhere, at any time, in any condition, but it always feels better to slip into something cool and soft against his skin at the end of the day. 

Beel emerges from the bathroom, a tired smile on his face as he wipes a bit of toothpaste from his lips with the back of his hand. "The Roasted Cockatrice you made tonight was delicious; you should make it more often, Belphie."

He smiles at the taller demon as he slides under his lavender-scented covers. The softness of his quilted down, embracing him like an old friend. "Thank you, Beel; if you like it so much, I can make it again for you sometime, and you can eat as much as you want."

Beel gives him a big, happy smile as he gets into his bed on the other side of the room. "I think I am going to dream about it tonight."

Belphie laughs as he sets his DDD down on its bedside charging port. "Careful Beel, the last time you dreamt about dinner you ended up eating your pillow in your sleep."

He frowns and looks at his mattress, "I really liked that pillow too," recalling the memory foam pillow you got him from the human world. He sighs and slips into his sheets. "Goodnight Belphie."

"Good night, Beel." With a flick of his wrist, he turns the bedroom light on and lets his head rest against the pillow, ready to head off into dreamland.

Minutes turn to hours as his cool sheets heat up uncomfortably, and the enviable sound of Beel's soft snoring can be heard from the other side of the room.

This feeling of restlessness is unknown to the Avatar of Sloth as he tosses and turns, waiting for sleep to take him, but it never comes…

~

The next morning, you find yourself at the breakfast table sipping on a chilled glass of freshly pressed blushberry juice and basking in the early morning shenanigans of the Avatars of Sin. 

Next to you, Beel is devouring a mountain of protein waffles after what you can assume to be an intense early morning workout.  

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mammon sneakily trying to pluck all the blood strawberries out of the communal fruit bowl without anyone catching him. And so far, no one has. Especially since Asmo's flash keeps going off as he takes and retakes pictures of the adorable latte art Satan made for him. 

At the table head, Lucifer reads the newspaper, the ghost of a smile on his face as he tries to hide his contentment with this family time.

All of a sudden, Asmo drops his phone and lets out a gasp. "Oh Belphie, what happened to you? You look horrible hon."

Your head snaps to the doorway, and your gut fills with concern as you take in Belphie's appearance. His skin is sickly pale, his hair is ruffled beyond what one would call bedhead, and his usually bright violet eyes are framed by deep dark circles.

Had he slept at all last night?

"Shut up, Asmo," he grumbles, dragging himself to his seat and grabbing the pot of coffee from the center of the table.

You could hear a pin drop in the room as everyone watches him pours an impossibly tall mug for himself. He completely ignores the thick wisps of steam that dance on the lip of the mug and inhales the entirety of the dark roast-like air.

Beel swallows the waffle that had been caught in his throat and gently places a hand on his twin's shoulder "Belphie, are you okay?"

"Does it look like I am okay?" he snaps, jerking his shoulder out of his grasp "I heard you stomping all over the place this morning. It's impossible to get any sleep when I have to listen to you all night long."

Your eyes widen. Did Belphie really just say that to his twin? His favorite being in the three realms? Beel's face falls, and he is about to utter a small apology, but he is interrupted by a firm cough from Lucifer, who sets his newspaper down on the polished table.

"Clearly someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed," he says, staring down his youngest brother with a gaze of fiery crimson. "You should think about what you are about to say next, Belphegor, or you will deeply regret it."

"Whatever, you guys aren't worth my energy." he gets up and walks out of the room, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence. You glance over to Lucifer and meet his gaze. His jaw is clenched, but he gives you a nod of encouragement that has you exiting the room to try and find Belphie and figure out what has gotten him so upset.

You don't have to go very far. Belphegor's steps are unenergized and painstakingly slow, allowing you to easily catch up to him in the hallway. Gently, you reach for his hand to stop him.

"Belphie, what is wrong with you?" you ask, "You never get mad at Beel like that."

His gaze narrows, and he rips his hand out of your grasp way harder than he usually would. "Well, maybe if he learned how to function without sounding like a stampede of elephants is marching through the room when I'm trying to sleep, I wouldn't have to get mad at him."

"Belphie…"

"And why did you follow me?" He says, his features twist into a cruel smirk that has you taking a hesitant step backward. "Is the nosy little human trying to make themselves feel all important by getting involved in our business? Why don't you get out of my face and get back to the human world where you belong."

Ouch…

Pain flashes in your gaze and he finally realizes that he went way too far. "Mc, I-i didn't mean it~" he tries to come closer to you, to apologize, but it's too late."

Your reply to him is cold and dismissive. "Just go get some rest Belphegor. You obviously need it." You glare at him and turn to walk back towards the dining room.

"Mc, wait." He tries to call after you, but you're gone. And when you sit back at your seat at the table you notice that your breakfast tastes far less sweet than it did a moment ago.

~

You have avoided Belphie for the better part of the day, and you have tried not to think of his cruel words. You want to give him time to fix his cranky attitude, but honestly, you don't know if you want to talk to him right now.

It is now way too late in the evening you are hunched over at your desk working on something for RAD when you hear a weak knock on your door. You glance at your little clock. It's 3:45 in the morning. 

Who would be knocking on your door at this hour?

You pad across the carpet and open the door slowly to reveal the disheveled (and honestly pathetic-looking) Belpheghor. 

"What do you want?" you say, tightening your grip on the door, ready to shut it in his face if he says anything rude, but you freeze when you take in his appearance. He looks worse for wear than he did earlier. Clearly, he did not take your advice and rest earlier.

"Please," he murmurs out. "Please let me in"

He looks so pitiful, your cave; opening the door wider to allow him inside. His head hangs low as he drags his feet across your carpet in a zombie-like fashion.

He slowly sits himself down on the edge of your mattress and stares down at his hands as if there is some kind of apology tattooed on his fingers.

"M'sorry." he mumbles at last, his voice raw from frustration. "After what happened last time… I told myself I would never do anything to hurt you ever again. I just wasn't thinking, and it slipped out."

"Clearly," you huff sourly, still licking your wounds from yesterday morning. "If that's really what you think of me, then that's fine, but Beel doesn't deserve to be snapped at either."

He opens his mouth in protest, "It's not like that; you know how much you mean to me, Mc. I'm just not acting like myself." He looks like he is about to cry, and it tugs at your heartstrings. "It's no excuse, but I'm tired."

"Then how about you just go to fucking sleep already then?" you respond. You may just be a human, but the demons aren't the only ones capable of inflicting hurt.

"Because I can't." he raises his voice, and you flinch under the sharp edge to his voice. 

Immediately, he steps back for your comfort. This small act of consideration, even in the heat of the moment, makes you see him not as the monster in your mind but as a piece of your heart.

You think about what he is trying to say.

He can't sleep.

How is that possible?

 He is literally the Avatar of Sloth.

 One time he fell asleep on a rollercoaster because it took too long of a pause at the top before zooming downward.

"What do you mean you can't sleep?" you ask softly. Your feet move on their own, gently closing the distance between your bodies as you sit down next to him on the edge of your firm mattress. "What's going on Belphie?"

Your proximity is like a weighted blanket to him, and he leans in closer to your touch. "I haven't slept at all since that nap I took two days ago by the fire."

"Two days?"

You may not know the ins and outs of the effects that each brother's sin has on them, but you know that Belphie doesn't just sleep all the time because he wants to; he has to. Two days for him must be agonizing. 

Thinking back to the other day you try to think of any little details that may lead you to why the poor demon next to you is unable to catch a wink of sleep. 

You remember sitting next to Belphie on the couch…

And Levi was screaming about a package…

The Night Cricket Essence!

"I think I know why you haven't been able to sleep," you say, reaching for your DDD and pulling up your browser. Searching for anything you can about the demonic caffeine supplement thingamabob. 

The effects pop up instantly, along with several warnings about the consumption of the product. You make a mental note to talk to Levi about his purchase history later, but you continue to scroll about the product. 

"What are you looking at?" Belphie asks, leaning over your shoulder. He is so exhausted he slumps into your side, but you don't mind in the slightest. 

"The effects of Night Cricket Essence," you reply. "It says here that you should only add a few drops into a drink to keep you awake, but it must've vaporized when you broke the bottle.

"So I inhaled the whole bottle?" he blinks.

"I think so," you muse; it seems to be the only way to explain how someone as powerful as him could be affected.

"When will it wear off?" he groans, leaning back onto the mattress. 

"No clue, sorry. I'll keep looking," you murmur, trying to find some kind of a cure. 

You scroll and scroll and scroll until you stumble across something that sounds promising. 

If consumed in excess, the effects of Night Cricket Essence may be counteracted with a cup of chamomile tea.

Is that all it takes? A cup of tea?

It's worth a shot

"Come with me, Belphie, I want to try something to help you." Despite his restless exhaustion, your soft voice and kinder eyes are able to coax him onto his feet. He follows you out your bedroom door and into the kitchen.

He sits down at the counter as you scamper about the room, grabbing everything you need to make the both of you a nice cup of tea. 

For demons, getting ahold of human world tea is next to impossible, but you had just come back from a trip with Barbatos to stock up on some hard-to-find blends. Chamomile included. 

It doesn't take long for the tea kettle to whistle as you pour him a cup. You hand it to him carefully before pouring your own. 

"Let's hope this works," you mumble, blowing on your own glass, but he wastes no time. He drinks it desperately, and a few droplets strip down his chin and onto the tabletop.

By the time he comes up for air, the cup is empty, and you know this is an immediate difference in his appearance. His eyes droop, and he looks at you with a sleepy smile. 

"Thash goose" he stumbles out. You may not have the same twin telepathy that he and Beel have, but you know what he means as he sets the cup down clumsily. 

"How are you feeling?" you ask, sliding around the counter and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

"Tired," he mumbles, tilting his head up so you would kiss his lips. His movements are sluggish, but the sensation of your lips on his is enough to keep him going a bit longer. “Can I has slee in yer ruum?” 

"You want to sleep in my room?" you ask, watching as his lids get heavier and heavier.

"Yesh, wanna cuddle."

You smile as he clings onto wakefulness, waiting to hear your answer. "You can stay with me." Your acceptance brings a smile to his face as he sinks onto the tabletop; his head hits the wood with a thud as he finally dips into his well-deserved rest. His soft breathing fills the room as you finish your tea. Once your little tea break is over, you will have to put him on your back and carry him to your room.

~

Three days later, you are once again at the breakfast table. When Belphie finally emerges from your bedroom looking extremely well rested. The others, having been made aware of the situation, breathe a sigh of relief when he takes a seat next to Beelzebub. 

"Good morning Belphie." Beel smiles hesitantly at his twin through his breakfast sandwich.

"I'm sorry for how I acted earlier; I hope you're not too upset with me to go out for lunch."

The smile that appears on Beel's face makes your heart melt as he nods eagerly. "Can Mc come with us too? Food always tastes better when I eat with both of you."

Belphie glances over to you as you nod and directs his attention back to his brother. "I think that can be arranged."

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Witte Solstice - Chapter 16

Cover art by @leespinoodle.

Fic written by me (enchantedchocolatebars) and @leespinoodle.

Summary: It's winter in the Boiling Isles, and Caleb prepares to celebrate the solstice with his wife, his friends… and hopefully, with Beardo Philip! Philip swears he'll never partake in the satanic holidays of those demonic witches. But when Caleb invites him over for the solstice… maybe he'll find himself making an exception.

Ao3 version

Enjoy!

While walking, Philip's eye caught something on the right corner, and he turned to look in that direction.

The scene he saw caused him to make an abrupt stop, with the brunette giving nothing but his full attention to it.

"Take this!" shouted gleefully a smaller witch with shoulder-length brown hair as he rushed up to an older witch who had his golden hair tied in a ponytail, throwing a snowball at him.

The ball of snow hit the witch square on the shoulder.

With a giggle, the little one took off running.

Grinning, the older witch reached down and began to ball up a snowball.

"Get back here, you!" the older witch chuckled as he chased after the smaller witch.

The two boys' laughter radiated throughout the chilly air.

Philip continued to observe both brothers, he assumed, have a good time together.

…

"Hey, Caleb!" Little Philip shouted.

"Hm?" the blonde teen turned away from the pile of snow he was shoveling.

The town of Gravesfield had been blessed with about a foot of snow after last night's snowstorm.

"Hey!" Caleb chuckled as he received two snowballs to the stomach.

With a giggle, Philip immediately took off running.

"You can't get me!" he teased in a sing-song tone, only to quickly be hit in the back with a snowball.

Giggling a second time, Philip took a light tumble into the fluffy snow.

"Alright, Philip, that's enough snow play for one day."

Philip turned his head to see his older brother beckoning him inside with a smile.

"Come inside. You'll get sick if you stay out too long. I'll prepare the furnace and some tea for us."

"Yes, Caleb!" Philip answered in obedience as he happily ran toward his big brother.

...

Philip felt his lips start to twitch in present day.

He almost wanted to smile.

Almost.

But of course, the Puritan remained detached and disinterested.

Hurling a huff of disgust at the two witch boys, the beardo continued on his way to his brother's home.

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 16 - Possessed

Word count: 7,613. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: The consequences of Alastor being bested are felt by more than just himself. Trigger Warnings: Canon typical violence, possession, mentions of masturbation, alcohol and tobacco use, and self-harm/self-mutilation.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 16 - Possessed

1984

It only took Rosie’s people a couple hours to gather up their resources and investigate just what had happened to Mina and who was involved. They reported their findings to her and Rosie used the information to quickly come up with a plan; one that would be very fortuitous for herself.

That is how, come midafternoon that very same day, Rosie walked through the same door Mina had that morning and heard the same bell chime its welcome to her.

���Good afternoon,” she said to the same two assistants that were still manning the register.

Another shopper had peaked around one of the stacks, spotted Rosie, and scurried past her and out the front door.

“And where would the owner of this fine establishment be?”

The boy was staring at her open mouthed, but the girl seemed to have a little bit more wits about her, so she wordlessly leaned forward and banged on the little bell in front of her.

“What is it?!” Theodore shouted from somewhere in the back.

Without taking her eyes off Rosie, the girl hit the bell again.

“Oh for fucks sake, if those two have run off again-“ Theodore stopped his rant as he walked up front, freezing in place when he saw Rosie.

“Children,” Rosie said, turning to the desk attendants. “Theodore will no longer be needing your assistance. See yourselves out.”

“Hey, now wait a minute, I own their souls. You can’t just-“

“Oh, and a word of advice, my dears,” Rosie said, ignoring his protests. “Once you get out those front doors . . .” She flashed them her toothiest smile. “Run.”

The assistants made haste and left the store, moving quicker than Theodore had ever seen them move before.

“I didn’t do anything,” he began once the door had swung shut.

Rosie laughed. “A liar and a coward. And Mina always spoke of you with such regard to your character.”

He swallowed nervously with an audible gulp.

Rosie made a show of looking around the place. She peaked through the curtain of the front window, inspecting the neighboring buildings, and then turned towards the small spiral staircase, looking up at the landing above that housed more books.

“You know, this neighborhood is really only a few minutes away from Cannibal Town. And I’ve been thinking for a while that I should expand my boarders. Getting a bit too dense in there, if you know what I mean. But I’m backed up against so many other sections of the city, there’s really nowhere to go. I’m a reasonable woman after all, and no one has given me a reason to take over what’s theirs. Until now, that is.”

“What-you can’t! It was just me! You can’t just take over several other businesses because of what I did to one girl!”

Rosie tsked at him, disapprovingly.

“They let those ghouls into their neighborhood. They watched as Mina was dragged from your shop. I can’t have simpletons like that so close to my boarders. But don’t worry about them. The other businesses around here will have a choice. Join me, and learn how a real Overlord runs things, or . . . be on the menu.”

Theodore began to back away, trying to put the front desk between himself and Rosie.

She just smiled at him, allowing him to make his small retreat.

“How did you find out?” he asked as he sidestepped behind the desk.

“I have my ways,” she answered with a delicate shrug.

“And just to be clear, you’re implying you won’t be giving me the same choice as you’ll give the others?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Like I said, lots of people in Cannibal Town these days. Gotta give them fresh meat sometimes.”

Behind her, the door opened again, and half a dozen cannibals filtered into the shop.

Theodore reached for the shelving hidden behind the desk and pulled out a gun. Rather than pull it on Rosie or the Cannibals, he lifted it to his own head and pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

The trigger clicked a tiny, useless sound and Theodore stared at the gun.

“Like I said,” Rosie smiled, “I have my ways. Did you think I was going to leave you with an easy way out? Let you respawn and hide somewhere else? The chase could be fun . . .”

Her cannibals were circling the desk, two on either open ends and two standing at the front, completely caging him in.

“But I’m a busy woman,” Rosie stated, “and I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense.”

The two Cannibals at the front of the desk leaped over the barrier as the four at each side closed the distance as well.

Outside the building, several demons passing by stopped as the screaming began and then quickly headed in the opposite direction when they saw the large mass of Cannibals walking down the middle of the street, breaking into smaller groups and entering several neighboring businesses at once.

_____

The rest of that first day was the hardest for Mina.

Once she came to, it became evident that while she was no longer in physical pain and had longer bouts of clarity than just the couple of seconds she had shown at Rosie’s, the mental attack she was fighting was far from over.

Alastor hadn’t chained her to the wall at first. He couldn’t bring himself to. She was still sound asleep and peaceful looking. He had only kept the shackles around her neck as a precaution against her morphing into her larger form, but he hadn’t really believed it would be an issue anymore.

He laid her down on the sofa in the main room of the radio tower, careful to move the links of the large chain so that they were more comfortable for her. More of her hair had fallen in her eyes so he brushed the strands away and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, and she made a soft, sweet whine in her sleep in response. His strained grin lifted at the corners just a bit, his hope growing that she would be okay now.

He dressed her using his magic, her usual orange sundress appearing first as a wrapping of shadows around her sleeping form, before solidifying as clothing, zipped up and fitting her body perfectly.

Alastor sat on the couch beside her, watching her sleep for several minutes. He was just barely keeping his rage at bay. So much of him wanted to go find Kassandra right then and there and rip her soul apart in the streets for everyone to see. But he made himself sit there, quietly, and keep guard over Mina until she was well again. He had been speaking the truth when he told Abaddon he knew Mina would want her revenge. As hard as it was for him to imagine his love being beaten, undressed, and her mind assaulted, it had to be all the more difficult for her. The best thing he could do for her was force himself to settle now so they could seek their vengeance together later.

It wasn’t long before she began to stir. First her eyes opened and blinked, then she sat up, feeling the shackle around her neck, and Alastor could see the moment when Mina recalled what had happened that day.

“It’s just a precaution,” he said, feeling ashamed he had left her in them. “I’ll remove them the second we’re sure your alright.”

Mina’s hands dropped from her neck to her lap. “You should have chained me to the wall.”

“I would never,” he insisted.

“Rosie’s going to kill me.”

“She will do no such thing, believe me.”

“If I were anyone else, she would have.”

“But you’re not anyone else. You're mine.”

Mina looked at him then, and Alastor tried to force his smile into something softer and more reassuring but as tears began to gather in her eyes, he felt his anger returning. She was not a woman who cried easily. It took a great amount of emotional distress to bring her to tears and watching her break like this was pulling at every last shred of Alastor’s sanity.

He was not a good or tender man. Alastor didn’t necessarily view himself as evil, he possessed some kind of moral compass, however broken and twisted it was. But he was well aware of the reasons as to why he was in Hell. And his first instincts when he saw the woman he loved hurt and crying, was not to comfort her, but to lash out at the thing that had done this to her. It was a great mental effort for him to remind himself that one had to come before the other, and he reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, letting her sob out her frustrations.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried into his jacket, “I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried. I tried to fight them off. I tried to get her out of my head. But she’s so strong Al’. I didn’t mean to do the things I did. I didn’t want to. The whole time, I was trying to stop, I really was-“

“Mina,” he said sternly, cutting her off. “None of this was your fault.”

“But I was weak. That’s what Kassandra wanted to show everyone. That you had given yourself to someone weak. And she’s right­­-“

“Stop it,” he said and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away enough to make her look at him. “That’s just her in your head. You and I are going to kill them all for what they did to you, so that’s enough talk of weakness, my dear.”

Mina seemed to relax a little then. Her tears were still falling but she wasn’t sobbing in earnest anymore, and she sank back into him, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Alastor sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch, trying to ignore the rush of hormones in his body as Mina’s figure pressed against his but his thoughts began to wander.

She was crying, and soft, and warm against his body, she needed him to show her that she was his, that she was safe in his possession, that no one but him would ever again be allowed to touch her like this.

He was snapped from his rut-induced train of thought when she suddenly tensed against him and shame coursed through him, thinking she had somehow caught on to the fantasy emerging in his mind.

But then Mina began to growl and her hands shot up, clutching the sides of her head. She screamed a guttural, desperate sound as she struggled against another mental onslaught.

Alastor sat up with her, taking hold of her forearms.

“Mina,” he said, unsure of what to do or say.

“I CAN’T GET HER OUT!” she screamed. Her face was turning red with effort, her cheeks wet with fresh tears, and Alastor saw a trickle of blood running down her wrist and realized too late she was clawing at herself.

He made the mistake of trying to force her hands away from her, just to keep her from hurting herself further, and she lashed out at him with another feral shriek, and bit into his shoulder.

Her teeth tore through jacket and shirt and sank into the meat of his shoulder and his survival instincts kicked in. Shadows forced themselves around her, pushing her off him and wrapping themselves around her, holding her down on the couch. His real shadow appeared on the wall, spreading itself up and out, hissing down at her as she continued to struggle and scream, once again completely out of her mind.

Alastor sucked in a breath of air and pressed his hand to his bleeding shoulder, looking at Mina with pity and concern. He had underestimated by a long shot just how much she would continue to struggle for command over her body and mind.

“I’m so sorry, Mina,” he said, though he was sure she couldn’t comprehend his words, and stood, grabbing the ends of the chains.

His shadows forced her along behind him so she wasn’t dragged, and he chained her to the wall on the opposite side of the room, keeping tentacles of shadow around her wrists so that she couldn’t do any further damage to herself.

She looked like so many of the souls he had brought misery to in his time in Hell. With a chain around her neck, his shadows forcing her down, her screams of desperation and rage against him filling up the room.

Alastor turned away, unable to watch.

Had there really been a time when this is what he had wanted to do to her? To own her soul and keep her in chains, completely at the whim of his own will and power? He had done it to thousands of others easily; joyfully even. And he would do it again a thousand times over. But to Mina? It seemed abhorrent and unnatural to see her like this.

Several long minutes went by with her in that state until she eventually collapsed to the floor, crying quietly but when he said her name, she didn’t respond. She was still out of it, unaware of her surroundings, it was just that her body was too exhausted to struggle.

He summoned a mattress beneath her and once she had fallen truly asleep, he let his shadows dissipate from around her.

It was going to be a very long 48 hours for him.

Looking down with disgust at the tent in his pants, he realized he wouldn’t be able to care for her alone like he wanted to. Not when he would have to keep leaving her side to take care of that.

He left her briefly for a few minutes, chaperoned by his shadow, and transported himself to the bathroom to clean up the blood from his shoulder and relieve his other problem, before heading back upstairs and summoning Niffty.

She got to quick work, cleaning up the discarded mess he had left around his workstation, and then the blood that had splattered on the floor and couch from Mina’s attack, before making tea with honey to sooth Mina’s throat once she woke up.

Alastor would never have even thought about her throat being hurt from all her screaming and allowed himself to relax a little once Niffty had considered it, knowing for sure he had made the right decision by bringing her into this.

“Thank you, Niffty,” he said as she placed the tray down on the small dining table in the room where he and Mina had shared their first meal together. She even had a tea cozy around the pot and a little candle burning beneath it to keep it warm until Mina woke again. Alastor wasn’t sure where she had gotten such a thing, but Niffty was often as mysterious in her abilities as Alastor himself was.

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” she asked, watching Mina sleep from across the room.

Alastor nodded, accepting a cup of the tea as Niffty handed it to him, unsweetened like he preferred it. “It is, my dear. Unfortunately, it is. But it won’t be for much longer, I’m sure of it.”

Niffty wandered around the room, restless as usual for something to do, now that she had cleaned the place from top to bottom. She stopped at one of the large windows, peering down at the street below.

“Oh no,” she said, wringing her small hands nervously.

“What is it?” Alastor asked and strode over to see what she was looking at.

A large crowd of demons, Sinners and Hellborns alike, were gathered around the radio tower. Most were keeping a safe distance, but many were standing directly beneath them, gawking up at the tower as if they could catch a glimpse of something through the one-way windows.

“I guess word has gotten out about what happened today, huh?” she asked, peeling her eyes away from the scene below to look up at Alastor.

The teacup shattered in his grip as his smile widened to an unnatural width across his features.

“’Eat shit and die,’ that was the supposed message for me. What do you think, Niffty?”

She climbed up on his shoulder, looking down at the crowd from her improved vantage point.

“I think you should burn them, sir,” she said with a smile that matched his own.

They shared a knowing look and laughed together, and then in unison turned their gaze back on the demons below.

A shadow grew at the base of the tower, spreading like flowing water across the street, reaching out to the furthest members of the crowd.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying how many of them began to nervously lift one foot and then the other, pathetically trying to avoid the shadow’s reach.

With a squint of his eyes and a snap of his fingers, the shadow ignited, and green flames devoured the entire crowd as one. Dozens, maybe even a hundred, demons screaming in unison as their souls were devoured and then added to his collection.

It was his turn to leave a message to all of Pentagram City. The Radio Demon didn’t have to step a foot out of his tower to be a threat, regardless of the slight against his own hours before.

“Alastor?” Mina’s rough voice called for him, and both he and Niffty turned away from the window, the green glow of the blaze reflecting behind them.

Niffty jumped from his shoulder and ran over to the teapot, pouring out a cup and began to walk towards her.

Mina pulled away as Niffty approached her, pressing herself against the wall.

“Stay back,” she warned, and Niffty stopped, glancing over at Alastor with a questioning look.

“She’s just trying to help,” Alastor told Mina.

Mina’s ears went flat against her head and she looked away, ashamed and submissive. “I don’t want to hurt her,” she said in a small voice.

Alastor sent a tendril of shadow from his back that stretched across the room and carefully took the handle of the teacup before carrying it over to Mina.

The tentacle held it in front of her face and she reached out, taking it in both hands and then meeting Alastor’s eyes again.

“For your throat,” he explained.

Mina sipped at it for a few minutes and then laid back down on the mattress, turning her back to the other two occupants, and remaining silent.

Niffty stayed a while longer, cooking them all a meal while Alastor watched over Mina, excusing himself for a few moments of privacy every once in a while to deal with the affects of his rut.

Mina didn’t touch her food that was left in a bowl beside her, too upset to eat, or perhaps to repulsed by food because of Kassandr’a presence in her head. It was hard to say.

She fell to her insanity a couple more times before twilight officially fell over the city.

Alastor and Niffty watched her as she struggled against her bonds, her body attempting to morph even with the chains on. Mina was on all fours, pulling backwards against the chain on her neck, her body long and barely human anymore as it strained with all its might against the angelic power forcing it to stay small. Her spine protruded out from between her shoulder blades, her ribs stretching the fabric of her dress nearly to the point of tearing it with every heaving breath she took, and her claws tore into the mattress below her, desperate to gain leverage in her struggle against her chains. Alastor kept his shadows hovering over her, ready to force her still should she turn those claws on herself again.

All the while, she screamed and cried, her face contorted in misery as she fought for control over her body.

“You can go now, Niffty. I’ll call on you sometime tomorrow. Go and get some rest now,” Alastor said to her.

Mina’s struggles were only getting more intense and though he probably could still use Niffty’s help, it was getting to the point where he wanted Mina to keep what was left of her dignity and not have anyone else witness the worst of what she was going through.

Niffty nodded dutifully as shadows engulfed her, sending her back to wherever she had been when he had summoned her.

Mina continued with her battles throughout the night, off and on, nearly until morning when she finally collapsed for several hours on the mattress.

Before she had truly fallen to sleep, trusting in that longer moment of lucidity, Alastor had risked undoing the chains from the wall and had his shadow escort her to the restroom so she could at least take care of that one bodily need in private. He had sighed in relief when she had returned, quickly and peacefully, though she laid down and again turned away from him when he hooked her back to the wall.

He took off his jacket and laid down beside her, reaching an arm around her to her spoon her from behind, but she tensed and pulled away.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and then said softy, “please. I’ll hurt you.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he said, and reached his arm around her again, succeeding that time in pulling her against him.

“I bit you,” she protested, still tense but no longer trying to put distance between them.

“Oh, it’s nothing worse than what you’ve done in moments of passion, my dear,” he said lightly, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, right in the middle of one of his particularly favorite leopard spots.

“It’s different,” she mumbled.

She was right, of course. Her love bites were always painful, but pleasant. Enough to break the skin and draw blood, but the pain during intercourse was thrilling. What she had done in her moment of madness had truly hurt and had been a much deeper wound. But still, it had healed within the hour and he was confident in being able to read the warning signs of an attack now, as well as his ability to hold her back even if she did manage to get another bite or scratch in.

Right now he just wanted to comfort her, to hold her after everything she had been through that day. And, he couldn’t deny, his own body was desperate to touch her.

Her breathing began to slow and he knew that she had fallen asleep. He stayed there, exhausted as well, and closed his eyes as he tried to drift off to sleep.

Dozing off, and half asleep, his hand wandered over her body. The smooth backside of his clawed nails trailing up and down her arm, a soothing rhythm for both of them. Then the smell of her overtook his senses and his hand left her arm, now following the curve of her hip and upper thigh over the fabric of her dress.

His eyes snapped open, the dim red glow of them illuminating her silhouette, as his hand found the bunched up skirt near her upper thigh.

He imagined that hand slipping beneath the dress, following her smooth skin up, exposing the soft round flesh of her ass. She had it pressed against him just right and he could feel himself growing hard against her. It would take so little effort to adjust her body, pull aside her panties, and take her right there. He thought of Kassandra in her mind and it only made him harder, made him want to at least claim her body, remind that bitch that Mina was untouchable, that she was his, and her warm little body would always be his, and no one else’s, for the taking. Mina would likely even stay asleep through the act, he could just quickly slip himself inside and-

Alastor yanked his hand away from her and stood up.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

His rut was no excuse. Even in her heat, even while drunk, Mina had better control of herself than he did. It was embarrassing. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself at even entertaining the thought of using her body that way, when she was in no state to consent.

Even with his mind shouting at him for what he had nearly done, his body still sought what it was after.

In a rage, Alastor disappeared from the room, turning to shadow and leaving Mina sleeping as he did what he had to do in the bathroom below.

Afterwards, as he washed his hands, Alastor looked up, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

That stupid fucking smile.

He had never hated it so much. Never hated himself so much as he did in that moment. He wanted to cut it off his face like he had his tail so many times in the past.

Alastor punched the mirror, watching it shatter, only to have the broken glass reveal a dozen more smaller reflections of the same damnable smile back at him.

With a shout, he ripped the mirror off the wall and threw it across the room. It hit the edge of the claw-footed tub and settled on the floor, completely broken, with his reflection finally hidden from him.

He gripped the edges of the sink, breathing hard, and looked down into the basin of the sink.

Alastor watched as droplets of water hit the porcelain and after a moment, realized he was crying.

Everything caught up to him in that moment. What had been done to Mina. How horrifically her body and mind had been violated. He had failed her. He had let a threat build under his very watch and it had come for her. And now he was helpless as she fought for herself. He couldn’t even heal her; he had needed Abaddon for that. And now he had to just watch as she fought off that demon in her mind and in her moment of weakness, as she fell asleep in his arms, still trusting him to watch over and protect her, he had nearly raped her. All because he couldn’t control himself during his rut.

Alastor dropped to his knees, still clutching the edges of the sink, and broke down into sobs.

He hadn’t felt this horrid in a very long time. It was like being surrounded by a dark cloud, that pressed against his mind and ate up every emotion except pain. No longer anything as clear as anger or guilt, just pain. Just an endless dense fog that kept him from thinking or feeling anything coherent.

As an adult, he had found a release from these moods. By embracing another kind of darkness, he had dispelled this blackness from his heart and aimed it towards others. That was when he discovered the glory of murder, how beautiful his wrath could be when targeted towards those who deserved it.

But as a child and as a teen, there had been no other outlet but the one tugging at his subconscious now.

It was a method he hadn’t relied on since well before he had died, unless one considered what he had done to his tail. He reflected on those nights now, his mind clinging to the release he had felt watching that band of red fur fall to the floor after spending agonizing minutes sawing through flesh and bone and cartilage to be free of the assaulting appendage he had hated so much. But through the physical pain and agony, there had been a kind of clarity. A release from the feeling of self-hatred, from the helpless way his anger overpowered him during his first few years in Hell.

But Mina loved his tail . . . he couldn’t risk her finding out about this pathetic and empty habit of his. It would break her heart and worse, she would pity him.

Something simpler then, like what he had indulged in as a juvenile.

Before he had time to consider his next actions, the knife was in his hand. Serrated and sharp, with a well-balanced handle that fit perfectly in his grip.

Then he was on the floor, leaning against the wall by the sink, amidst the plants and the humidity and cool, soothing tile, with his jacket off and one sleeve rolled up.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

The knife drew long, shallow lines of red, one after the other, down his forearm and with every cut, he felt a little more clear headed.

. . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

The first slice was already beginning to heal and Alastor watched, fascinated as the blood trickled down his arm from a wound that was no longer there.

His breathing stilled, his sobs subsiding then.

And then he thought of Mina; his dear, sweet, strong Mina, alone upstairs, getting no reprieve from the monsters in her mind, and he began cutting again, starting once more from the top.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

Pause. Another tilt of his head as he considered the flesh stitching itself back together.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

He continued this pattern, over and over again, never bothering to keep count of how many times he had to start over before his powerful, undead body healed itself. He just continued on, waiting for the cloud in his mind to dissipate, for the pain to end, so that he could return to where he knew he needed to be.  

Alastor sat there, alone in the bathroom, waiting for that blessed composure and control he had wielded for decades to finally return to him, while Mina slept upstairs, unaware.

____

He didn’t sleep at all the rest of the night, though that wasn’t unusual for him.

What was unusual was that he normally kept himself busy to force himself awake; but that night and into the early morning, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he wanted to. His body was too on fire, raging with hormones, and his mind was too emotionally wrecked.

Alastor was exhausted but he didn’t deserve rest.

Once he was sure Mina would sleep until morning, he added a comforter and a large, comfortable pillow for her, and tucked her in, whispering to her sleeping form once more that he loved her.

Then he kept his distance, afraid of losing control again.

So he sat in the chair he kept by his main workstation and spent the night looking out over the city, occasionally smoking his pipe and going through several glasses of whiskey.

It took a lot for him to get drunk, at least to the point of blacking out, but he did find that it helped dull his senses enough to tame the urges brought on by his rut and it kept a certain organ of his body from acting up quite as often.

By sunrise, he was still fuming, barely keeping his rage below the surface, and feeling more restless than he could recall since ending up in Hell. But he was too exhausted, and a sore combination of hung over and still a bit tipsy, to really be feeling any kind of sexual desire. It was quite the accomplishment, given how deep into his rut he was.

Mina shifted under the covers and when he turned to look at her, she was sitting up, clutching at her head.

At first he was concerned that another bought of possession was taking hold of her but then she groaned and it was just a normal, headache induced moan.

“God my head is killin’ me,” she said, her accent extra thick in her sleepy state.

Alastor summoned a glass of water and brought it over to her, sitting down on the edge of the mattress next to her.

She took it gratefully, taking several large sips before setting it back down.

“I apologize for making you sleep out here. Truly, I would have preferred to let you rest in our bed but . . .”

“No, it’s fine, I was plenty comfortable,” she said, brushing off his apology. “Thank you, for keeping me safe yesterday. I still don’t feel  . . . alone in here,” she said, tapping her temple, “but her voice is quieter now. It’s a bit easier to resist the urge to tear at your throat, at least.”

“May I take these off then?” he asked, reaching for the shackle around her neck.

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare.”

“Mina . . .” he said, frowning. “I hate to see you in such things.”

“They help. Really, I think they do.” She sniffed at him. “Have you been drinking?”

“I-“ he started, feeling heat come to his face. “It was a rough night.”

Mina tilted her head, confused for a moment, then her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Your rut! Oh God, Alastor, I’m so sorry. Ugh, this is all my fault,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

Alastor put a hand around one of her wrists and gently pulled her hand away from her face.

“Mina, listen to me,” he said, and he was relieved to see no tears in her eyes, only a bit of shame. “I may be incredibly angry about all of this, but I am neither angry at you, nor do I place any of the blame on you. I only wish I could help you more.”

“Oh, Al’,” she said, twisting her wrist out of his grasp so that she could hold his hand properly, and placed a kiss across the black skin of his knuckles. “You are everything I need you to be. You were strong enough to do what needed to be done to keep me from hurting myself or you.”

“I wish I could be more . . .comforting,” he said, unconsciously wrinkling his nose at his distaste for the word.

Mina laughed softly at him and squeezed his hand. “Why, so I could bite you again?”

Her smile suddenly turned to a frown, and she dropped his hand, scooting backwards across the mattress.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

She held her head again and took several long, steadying breaths. “Just give me a moment.”

After a minute she relaxed a bit and met his eyes sheepishly.

“Troubles not over then, is it?” he asked.

“No,” she sighed, “I’m afraid not. But I can handle it.” After another moment went by, she returned to her train of thought. “Alastor, I love everything that you are. Please, don’t ever try to be anything less or more than your natural self for my sake. I do not want the kind of man that will wallow in pity for me when I am hurt. I want you angry, so be fucking angry, okay? Because I want that bloody bitch dead by the end of tomorrow. You want to show me how much you love me? Let me watch while you tear her to pieces.”

Alastor smiled and for the first time since Mina’s capture, it was a genuine expression. He reached in and pulled her close, kissing her softly on the lips.

It was a small mistake. The intimate moment fueled his rut and Mina’s body tensed, almost losing control of her senses because of the distraction, and they pulled away at the same time, though regretfully.

“Best to save that for afterwards as well then?” Alastor said, irritated at the reminder.

Mina nodded, looking as sad about it as he felt, and again moved herself until she was on the far end of the mattress.

The rest of the day went by a little better.

Alastor had been moved by her words, her appreciation for his character more evident than ever. It soothed his guilty conscience over the night before now that he knew for sure he had behaved the way Mina had wanted him to, even when she couldn’t communicate that to him.

She had several episodes where she nearly lost herself again, but she was able to fend off the mental attacks before they escalated to the point of her screaming and lashing out.

Alastor summoned Nifty again, who was happy to cook and clean, and even helped sooth Mina during some of the more difficult spells. Eventually, it became evident that between the help of Nifty and the presence of his shadow, he would be able to leave Mina’s side long enough to take a shower. He knew he smelled of booze and the shower would give him the opportunity to linger on caring for his physical needs, leaving him more satisfied and calmer than before.

As evening fell and it had been a few hours since Mina’s last episode, Alastor sent Nifty away, and he unhooked Mina from the wall. With his shadow in tow, but her chain still around her neck, Mina disappeared from the control room, daring to use the restroom and take a shower for herself.

Alastor paced around the main room of the radio tower, more nervous than he had let on for Mina’s well-being. He knew it was a risky move but at some point they had to start testing the limits of her sanity and his shadow would alert him if she slipped again into madness.

That was when Abaddon decided to show up.

They stepped through the portal and into the Radio Tower as if they had done it before. Alastor bristled at the audacity.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with no pleasantness in his tone or expression despite his smile.

“Oh, calm down, I’m here for Mina, not you. I have a gift for her,” they replied with a dismissive wave of their hand and began walking around the room, staring openly at the décor. “Where is she?”

“Taking a shower. How did you get in here?” Alastor was in no mood for the angel’s games.

“Really?” they asked, turning around and looking at Alastor with surprise. “She’s already well enough for that? I have to say, I wasn’t expecting her to recover that quickly. But the constitution on that woman has always been impressive, to say the least.”

“How did you get in here?” Alastor repeated.

Abaddon chuckled and then turned back to the small display case of antiques and artwork.

“You may be in a relationship of sorts with her, but Mina is still under my protection. If you didn’t realize I had come here to make sure she would be safe here well before she moved in, then that’s your problem, not mine.”

Alastor snorted. “And you would have been able to stop her if you decided I wasn’t good enough for her?”

“You aren’t good enough,” Abaddon said simply, “but you are safe enough. For now. Are these real shrunken heads?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alastor asked, ignoring Abaddon’s last question.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” they challenged. “That one day you’ll choose something else over Mina and it will either break her heart or get her killed.”

Alastor laughed in their face. “That. Is. Ridiculous. What preposterous scenario does your holiness foresee in which I would ever do that to her? Please, enlighten me.”

“Oh wow, you really believe it, don’t you?” Abaddon said, looking at Alastor as if this was a sudden and fascinating realization. “Cuz I feel like I’m going insane, watching you two. I seem to be the only one around here who knows you are the kind of man to always choose power over everything else. Men like you, demons like you, can never hold onto anything good. One day, you’ll make a move for more power and you’ll leave Mina behind. And I’ll be sure to be there for her when you do.”

“Get out,” Alastor said.

Abaddon had struck a deep and tender nerve, and Alastor could feel his antlers growing already. He couldn’t win a fight against Abaddon, he knew that. He also knew if Abaddon pushed him any further, he wouldn’t be able to help himself in starting one.

“No,” Abaddon said, turning their back on him, unthreatened by the display, and smiled sweetly over their shoulder at him.

Alastor snapped. The room shrunk around him as he increased his height and he felt a number of tentacles begin growing out his back.

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE BEFORE I-“

Alastor stopped in his tracks as his shadow darted into the room, attaching itself at his feet. Within the blink of an eye, he returned back to his normal form, a microsecond before Mina appeared in the room.

He was still breathing hard, his fury held in check by a hair, and he was sure his eyes were betraying him, having either turned to radio dials, or green, or black, or some combination of the three. The blasted things always gave him away.

Mina paused for a moment, looking at Alastor and then at Abaddon, and then rolled her eyes.

She may not know the extent of how much those two hated each other, but she wasn’t blind to the fact that they didn’t care for each other. Alastor being at the peak of his rut didn’t help, so she held no surprise that they had clearly been arguing.

She had dressed thankfully, even adding her usual light sweater that she normally forewent when they were home alone together. Alastor assumed the increased modesty was more to help with the symptoms of his rut rather than any precognition that Abaddon had arrived.

And she still had the shackle around her neck.

“Mina, good to see you feeling more yourself. And so quickly. I’m impressed,” Abaddon said, striding over to her and pulling her in for a hug.

Mina hugged them back but looked over their shoulder at Alastor, her eyes looking concerned as they met his.

He hadn’t moved a muscle, remaining stiff as a board as he watched Abaddon.

“What can I say?” she shrugged as she pulled away. “I’m impressive.”

“Are you really okay?” Abaddon asked, more sincere and serious.

“Not out of the woods yet, apparently,” she said and Alastor’s eyebrows rose up, catching the implication that she had nearly lost control while alone in the shower. “I’m okay,” Mina continued, looking at him, and then gestured at his shadow, “that helped me get through it just fine.”

She then turned to Abaddon. “I’m sure your healing me helped tremendously. And Alastor as been nothing short of wonderful. It was a hard night, for both of us.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you completely,” Abaddon said, and Alastor suppressed the urge to make an audible, disgusted noise at the display of concern from them. “But even direct angelic interference is only an aid when it comes to possession. The fight is ultimately up to you. But, as we can all see, you’re one hell of a fighter. Here,” they said as they held out their hand and a small vial of golden liquid appeared hovering above their open palm, “this should help you win the final round.”

Mina took it, looking at it skeptically.

“This is . . . blood?” she guessed, turning the vial and studying the viscosity of the liquid.

Abaddon nodded. “I was inspired by Kassandra’s power. Now, I’m really not supposed to get involved in the politics of Overlords. It’s frowned upon, as you know. But we’ll just keep this one between the three of us and no one will know.”

“It’ll help me get rid of her?” Mina asked.

“Not exactly. Once you feel like you’re ready to take her on in person, drink this. It’ll increase your powers enough to take on even the strongest Overlords. Just temporarily though. Don’t go taking over the city once your done with Kassandra.”

“You won’t be in my head like she is?”

Abaddon frowned, looking a little insulted. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t do that to you, Mina. Especially not after what you just went through.”

“I know,” Mina said, pressing her palm to her forehead and shaking her head. “I know, I’m sorry. There’s just . . . lots of noise up here right now.”

“Of course,” they said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “No need to be sorry. Anyway, I should get going. Alastor,” they said with a polite nod, “Always good seeing you.”

A portal opened behind them and then turned to walk through it.

“Oh, and Mina?” they said, before they had stepped through. “Kick her ass.”

Then they were gone, the portal closing behind them.

Mina turned to Alastor as soon as they were alone.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“No,” Alastor answered truthfully, his voice deeper and more warped than usual. “I could use a few minutes alone.”

Mina gave a nearly imperceptible nod and Alastor disappeared, leaving her alone with his shadow.

Next Chapter ->

Tag list: @inuhalfdemon @saccharine-nectarine @whoknowswhoiamtoday

[distinguished-slacker]

ONS CHAPTER 143 SPOILERS THOUGHTS

I don’t even know how much of the OnS fandom here is left since I barely check but a chapter with Mitsuba screentime dropped and I am here for it.

First things first, Mitsuba getting a Black Demon was neither in my 2025 nor any other year’s bingo card. I still can’t believe it but now I guess this is what Kagami meant years ago when he said something was awaiting her. Yoichi and Kimizuki have had Black Demons since the earliest chapters of the manga but everything around it has been heavily underused. Kagami could have put Mitsuba in the same situation as the boys yet he hasn’t until this moment so is it too hopeful to think that Mitsuba getting a Black Demon will mean something in the long run?

On the topic of getting a Black Demon (since Ky is a high ranked progenitor), is she getting it as a second demon or replacing her first demon? Because if it’s the latter I am going start to feel dumb after all the years I have been analysing ‘Tenjiryū’ down to the last details just for that faceless demon to be replaced😭. All my analyses, my theories…down to the 🗑️🚮 I guess. Even if Tenjiryū hasn’t had a face reveal I am still attached to the character because of how much I analysed them. I like their name, their form as a weapon and as a spectral demon as well as their ability. With how inconsistent powerscaling in OnS is due to plot reasons I wouldn’t even care if Mitsu stayed with a lower ranked demon until the end. But it is just a preference and I particularly don’t mind these events. Only thing I pray for it that Mitsu’s weapon stays the same because I like battle axes and I am actually concerned if her new cursed gear are Ky’s fingers in Shinoa’s hand (please no—😅). I even read some Twitter’s comments comparing this situation to Sukuna’s fingers and I just pray no one has to eat them. I guess Ky’s weapon as a vampire is worn in the hand as seen in volume 16 cover but I prefer the axe much more.

However, if I think deep into it does Mitsu getting a Black Demon even work? Iirc Kureto said that Black Demon users need a surgery for it beforehand (plus there is also the whole mental strength and desire needed too). Who knows…not all panels have been released so I am looking forward to it. Especially since there was a panel of the squad as children in a different era which arises more questions (and I finally got smol Mitsu panel, even if it’s half…).

On the topic of Ky, I should have seen his death coming considering that he was getting a backstory reveal (classic red flag) but I didn’t. Objectively, him crying for his mother at the end is sad but so much has been going on in OnS over the last years that I am kind of desensitised. I might actually feel it when Urdie dies since it seems all the vampires will be killed🥲.

Link to the account posting spoilers below👇

[myemuisemo]

Is there an 18th century manuscript in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? This is the question that opens chapter II of The Hound of the Baskervilles, this week's Letters from Watson.

I have been distracted by the long-s, which appears in manuscripts from the 17th through early 19th century. If Mortimer's manuscript was printed, there are numerous rules that apply to use of long and short s. But surely it's handwritten? In that case, the long-s would appear only in double-s combinations. There are 16 such in the manuscript. I resisted the urge to try formatting the text to see if any of them would appear near a fold, peeking out of a pocket.

Since there's a period of more than a century when long-s is commonly used, Holmes must also be drawing conclusions from the paper, or the shade of the ink, or the style of the handwriting (or printing?).

“You have presented an inch or two of it to my examination all the time that you have been talking. It would be a poor expert who could not give the date of a document within a decade or so. You may possibly have read my little monograph upon the subject. I put that at 1730.” “The exact date is 1742.” Dr. Mortimer drew it from his breast-pocket. 

That "or so" in Holmes' boast is doing a lot of work.

Since the document refers to Lord Clarendon's work, which is The History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England (written 1646-8, published 1702-4), the Great Rebellion must be the conflict between royalists and Parliamentarians that led to the execution of King Charles I, the Commonwealth under Oliver Cromwell, and eventually to the UK becoming a constitutional monarchy.

"Godless" Hugo Baskerville sounds like standard demonization of the royalists as debauched and corrupt. However, since Baskervilles apparently held their land consistently through the entire period, they may also have been good at either playing with whatever side was winning or keeping their heads down.

Hugo is neither a nice nor a good man, so there's a certain glee in his being struck down by a slavering hell hound.

In contrast, Sir Charles Baskerville possesses "amiability of character and extreme generosity." His fortune made in South Africa was, nonetheless, derived from exploiting native peoples -- unless he was running a sugar cane plantation in Natal, in which case he likely shipped in indentured servants from India to exploit as workers. (I'm being terse because British colonialism in Africa was an endless pit of awful -- and also heavily romanticized in literature -- and I'm on the verge of ranting into topics where I may have details blurry. The Guardian has a piece.)

The two ethnic groups Mortimer and Baskerville discussed as "comparative anatomy" would today be San, foraging people who rejected British efforts to turn them into farmers and who... oh bloody hell, were deliberately hunted with approval of the government. The other is the pastoral Khoekhoe, who raised sheep and cattle. Did the British colonies try to enslave the Khoekhoe as labor? Of course they did.

By the standards of the day, Sir Charles Baskerville was not a prime candidate to be haunted by his conscience, nor by hell hounds, though.

I'm not even touching Murphy the traveler, whose testimony is suspect due to drink. Argh.

Surely Sir Charles' tip-toe stride was running? But what of his facial contortions? I feel immediate distrust for Mr. Stapleton, based on nothing but James Mortimer's liking him.

The list of people I wouldn't mind seeing eaten by a hell hound is growing. How long will it be before Holmes unravels who really did what to whom?

[syndxlla]

best friends don’t look at each other the way we do

A low stakes, high reward and self-indulgent Zelink fan fiction. Canon-compliant. Takes place between both and totk

Chapter Six: This is Home

Read chapter five here

My masterlist

Song: Run To You by Leah Michele

Summary: Link is brought on to investigate a new strange monster plaguing the farmers in Hateno. He is faced with a new type of post-traumatic experience he doesn’t expect to have.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, suspense and horror, PTSD, squint and theres very base-line sexual content, GRAPHIC descriptions of animal mutilations!

Word Count: 3.5k words

Authors Note: I didn’t update for two and a half months and said “lemme give you guys the best chapter yet” (imo). Thank you for being patient with me. I restarted school, closed one musical, opened and closed a 30 performance long run of another musical and literally fell in love with a man 16-years-older than me in that time lol. Also I wrote this in one sitting and I’m starting chapter 7 now 🫡. Its unedited be nice.

Also please do not make fun of me for using a Leah Michele song for this chapter its so good and it works really good so just shut up. Kloveyoubye

The summer starts to get hotter. A week passes and nothing changes, neither of them ever address the hand holding, Link is fixing the hole in the roof and Zelda is reteaching herself how to fix a clock, an activity she originally learned at the age of seven. Everything is so normal, the sun starts to set a little later, and the fireflies have started hatching.

Link never really thought he would end up in a position to do housework. He tried to get Bolson to fix the hole before Link bought it, but it would take a certain number of wood piles and when Link went out to get them he got a little distracted. And by distracted he means ending the sandstorm in the desert caused by the Divine Beast. It just got put on the back burner, and now here he is, using basic tools to hammer in new shingles. He wipes his brow, his shirt off again. He takes a look at the hammer in his hand, thinking about the savage Lynel sword that same hand has swung.

The passage of time is weird.

Maybe he does want to go back to work. Going from Demon slayer to roof repairman in two and a half weeks is a little jarring.

He hears a groan of frustration from inside the house, and makes his way inside, where it's much cooler.

“Everything alright?” He asks, looking at the girl who’s hunched over the kitchen table.

“No, this is absurd.” She slams the machine on the kitchen table. “I can’t remember how to do the most basic thing in engineering ever.” She frowns.

Link chuckles and places a dirty hand on her shoulder as he walks past her. He moves to the water basin and wets a cloth that he wraps around his neck. “I don’t know the first thing about that stuff, so you have me beat.” He shrugs. “Man, what I would give for an hour at Lurelin right now. Or better yet a weekend at Tabantha. I bet the weather there is a comfortable 60 degrees.” He sighs. Trying to slyly put the worm in Zelda’s ear about a possible trip.

Zelda groans, “I agree. I don’t remember it getting this hot.”

“This is just the beginning, wait until it’s the midsummer festival.”

“A festival?” Zelda’s face lights up.

Link nods, “It’s something they started about thirty years ago. It’s right here in Hateno. People from all parts of the kingdom will travel for it.” Link drinks some water, leading against the counter at the hip. Zelda makes special effort not to admire how his obliques curved. “There’s music and dancing, it’s quite fun. I was invited last year as a special guest. The “chosen hero” or something like that.” Link shrugs.

At that moment they hear a sharp knock on their door. It startles both of them. Link moves to answer it, setting the rag and cup down.

“Dantz, what is it?” Link says as he opens the door to a distressed farmer.

“Master Link, so good to see you,” His voice is shaky, “I didn’t know who else to go to.” Link listens more intently, Zelda even stands. “Two more of my cattle have been killed. When I heard you were back in town I knew you could help me. I don’t know who—or what—is killing them, but it's not a moblin. It’s something darker.” He’s speaking a mile a minute.

“Slow down,” Link stops him, “When did this happen?”

“In the night, I came here as soon as I could. They were covered in something… unnatural. Please, Link.”

Link turns back to look at Zelda. “Stay here.”

“What? No. I’ll come with you!” She moves to him and Link stops her. If this is anything like what Cado saw at the castle, he didn’t want her to be anywhere near it.

Link completely turns around and puts his hands on her shoulders, “Zelda, you cannot.” He stays sternly.

“Why? You don’t have to baby me. I can help you.”

“Zel-“

“I’m better! Please don’t leave me-“ Before she finishes the sentence she’s falling back down, like she was going to faint again. She had gotten herself worked up and now her heart was weary again. Link catches her before she falls, her knees knocking together.

“Oh, Goddess.” Dantz says. “Should I help?” He asks and Link snaps, telling him ‘no’ a little too forcefully.

“Zel, come on, let's get you to bed.” He wraps her arm around his shoulder. “Dantz, I’ll be there within the hour. I’m sorry.” Link says in a calmer tone.

“I understand, Link.” He nods and turns to leave.

Zelda can’t get up the stairs and Link picks her up, carrying her up to her room. He places her in bed as she starts to cry.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” He brushes her hair out of her face. She takes his hand.

“No. It’s not.” She replies. “Stop telling me it’s okay.” She groans. “It’s ridiculous that I can’t do anything without this happening.” It was the second time this week.

“I have to go help them.” His hand is held back by her, but she eventually lets it go.

He turns to leave her, pulling his green tunic over his messy hair, and getting ready for combat. He isn’t even anticipating a fight, but he wants to be ready. He puts his gloves on, and straps both his sword and shield to his back. He even gets his bow ready because he has no idea what it might be. It sounds serious.

It’s the first time he’s been entirely suited-up since the castle. He forgot how natural it feels. He forgot how much he felt like himself.

Zelda has gotten up and stands at the railing of the loft. “Be careful.” She says in a weak voice.

Link looks up at her, he wants to stay here with her and hold her and let her know that it's going to be okay. “Please rest.”

He walks out the door.

The cattle are lying dead in the corner of the pasture. Flies buzz around them. Dantz and Link examine the scene, a pit in both their stomachs.

“What could it be?” Dantz asks.

Link crouches down, getting a closer look. The gunk is a deep maroon color, almost like malice but thinner, almost like a glossy serum as opposed to a thick slime. Link takes a risk and touches a bit of it that was strewn across the grass, rubbing it between his fingers. It didn’t seem to hurt him the way malice did. He sniffs it, it’s rotten and foul. He gags almost immediately. Link wipes his hand off in the grass.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.” He admits. “And I’ve seen a lot.” This was only confirming his worst fears.

“The other ones that were killed were left like this too.” Dantz explains, “There isn’t even any meat taken out of them, only their eyes are gouged out.” He points out.

“Whatever is killing them is doing it for sport.” Link stands back up and folds his arms. “This is bizarre, I must say.” It was starting to be late afternoon, he still had a few hours of sunlight. “What did you do with the other ones that were killed?” Link asks.

“We tried to clean them up and butcher them for food. But the meat inside was rotten, like it was poisoned under the skin.”

Link hears a giggle from behind them and turns around to see the two daughters of the rancher watching them from behind a post. When he catches them staring they both hide.

“How old are your girls?” He asks.

“Siva is eighteen and Catli is sixteen.” Dantz replies. “They are my pride and joy, I can’t let anything bad happen to them.”

Link advances towards them, “Girls.” He smiles, charming as ever. They both sneak out from behind the post, sheepish and giddy. The older steps forward.

“You’re the hero.” She puts her hands behind her back. Link nods.

“Can you girls show me the edge of your property?” He asks, wanting to test a theory. They both happily nod and start to lead him, he notices especially how Siva looks at him as she walks by. She was very agreeable: long, dark and curly hair and alluring eyes. He follows them. They take him past the fence and through the forest, the younger chatting and asking questions about his quests and whatnot. He just smiles and nods, answering with basic “yes’” or “no’s”.

Link’s theory starts to prove right, he sees a set of two acorns on the ground, then a pair of two foot tracks, and eventually, at the end of the property, where two songbirds lay dead at the bottom of a tree, both covered in the same strange goop. Whatever this is, it’s looking for things in pairs. Like two sisters.

Link would never imagine putting these girls in danger, and would send them home in about an hour or two when it started to get dark, he just wanted to lure out whatever was killing with a pair.

He sat down at the base of a tree, and listened as the girls talked themselves up, clearly competing with one another for who can be the most impressive to the hero. Link decides to let them have their fun, it’s not like he was getting this attention from Zelda.

Zelda.

She’s all he could think about. He listens to the girls for a full hour, but doesn’t comprehend a word they’re saying because all he can do is think about the woman he left at home. He wishes he hadn’t left her home, she’s probably sad and lonely. Or maybe she isn’t, perhaps she’s enjoying some alone time. He doubted it, though. He was sure she was fuming at him for just leaving her, for going in such a rush. Proximity can cause problems, maybe this was good for them.

Link must have zoned out because all of a sudden the younger sister was gone, and he was left alone with Siva. This was dangerous territory.

“Where did your sister go?” He asks, clearly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I told her to go get her tapestry to show you! Of course.” Siva says in a tone that was a little too flirty for Link’s liking. She sits next to him, facing him. Link knew the look on her face, and he knew he should stand up and put an end to whatever was about to happen. “Because you know… now we’re alone.” She sighs and leans in.

Stop. Stop. Stop. He tells himself but doesn’t move, he lets her place her lips on his.

Link is not an experienced kisser. He’s had a few drunken nights in the last three years where he ended up in a Gerudo’s bedchamber or a stable-workers hideout, and while those were all agreeable experiences, he’s never actively sought them out. It was always nice to get the tension from his journey off, though.

Link makes the mistake of kissing her back, and she’s sighing into his touch and he’s pulling her in. Being alone with a woman he’s been in love with for three years and not being able to touch her or talk to her the way he wants to has left him with a lot of pent up energy, it felt good to get it out.

Link puts his fingers through her hair, and starts to kiss down her jawline and neck and she’s letting out the prettiest little sounds.

And then he starts to think about Zelda. The sounds Zelda would make, the feeling of her hair intertwined in his fingers, how her lips would feel against his…

Zelda.

Zelda.

“Zelda.” He sighs, and then Savi is pulling away.

“Hm?” She asks, and Link is dazed and confused, thinking with anything other than his brain. He doesn’t know how long they were kissing because suddenly it's much darker outside, and if Dantz caught them like this, Link would be the one hunted down and killed, not whatever monster is out there.

Link immediately feels stupid, this was a rookie mistake. He shouldn’t have let it happen.

“What?” He responds to her, and then out of the corner of his eye, he sees something run behind the tree. “Shit.” He jumps up. “You need to go. Right now.” He pushes her back towards the house. It wasn’t far, she’d be okay. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

She nods, also remembering their reason for being out here. She runs back home and Link shakes his head, trying to refocus. He sees it again, it’s fast, moving from tree to tree, but further away. Link grunts and starts to slowly follow it. He isn’t sure if it saw him. It’s tall, and it’s dark. He would guess it’s a Moblin by its size but it's much too fast to be a moblin. Perhaps a wizzrobe? But he could hear its feet on the grass. Link starts the stalk, prowling towards it like a predator.

He doesn’t think it knows he’s following, because he’s able to follow it halfway up Madorna Mountain before he accidentally steps on a branch that snaps loudly. Again, a rookie mistake. Link was out of practice, rusty. He silently curses himself for that. The beast turns around to look at Link, but he’s able to hide behind an oak tree. It was still a little light out, and the lights from down were getting smaller and smaller as they worked their way up the mountain.

Link stayed vigilant. It’s been a long time since he’s had to fight a new enemy, and he wasn’t sure how powerful this was going to be. It gets quiet, he doesn’t hear it move. Even with Link’s impaired hearing, he had a knack for the details, but not today, not now. A cricket chirps but it’s silenced halfway through its sound. The wind goes still. A cloud covers the moon.

He girds up, and moves from behind the tree to keep following it, but he’s met with a horrific sight.

The creature is standing there, about six feet away from Link.

It startles him. He’s met with a feeling of dread.

It’s tall, probably seven feet. It’s hunched down, a humanoid-sort of beast that looks like a shadow covered in the same maroon gloop as the animals.

Link freezes up, he is paralyzed with fear because he knows exactly what it is.

He knows who it is.

It opens its eyes, those awful, yellow, glowing eyes. He chuckles at Link and it fills his skull. It wasn’t quite human, like it was a pile of goo that was regaining its strength and slowly rebuilding itself into a human. Into a phantom.

They stare at one another, his laughter taunts Link. Link can hear his heartbeat in his ears. His palms start to sweat. He is met with the images of three weeks ago. The battle, the castle, the evil.

Ganon.

Or at least some form of him.

He doesn’t move, he just laughs at Link. The boy swallows, and he wants to run, but he rolls his shoulders back.

“Courage and Bravery are two different things.” Zelda’s words ring in his memory.

He grabs his sword.

The Master Sword unsheathes with a light ring, and it glows in the darkness.

In an instant, the monster is screeching and howling like a Lynel and melting away from the light of the sword. The pure power of the holy blade made the beast slowly melt into the ground, like an ice cube in the desert. It covered its eyes, and screlted into the forest, echoing no doubt into town.

Link walked closer to it, waving the blade, spinning it in his hand until the creature was completely put away.

Whatever that was, it isn’t very strong. It will surely get stronger, though. Link had a feeling this was not the end of it. It left behind a puddle of goop. Link’s stomach dropped when he realized why it was killing for sport and in pairs of two. It was probably seeking Him and Zelda. Unable to differentiate what living things were hylian and what was cattle or animals. The stealing of the eyes surely had something to do with it regaining its strength, but what?

How did it know to come look in Hateno already?

After sheathing the sword and thanking the Goddess, Link took a moment to bury the secretment. He still felt sick to his stomach. Why did he freeze up like that?

Maybe that final battle had more of an effect on him than he thought.

He heads home, explaining to Dantz what had happened and what he saw, sugar-coating it a little and just saying it was a ghost. Link wasn’t sure how long it would stay away for, but hopefully long enough he could talk to Impa about it. Clearly the Master Sword was protecting him. He made a special effort to avoid Savi.

When he gets home, he drops his equipment off, pulling his gloves and boots off and leaving it all in his little corner downstairs. He pulls his shirt off. He would sleep out with Epona again tonight, he would need to to avoid the nightmares. His Mare had that effect on him. The feeling of safety and home.

Zelda was asleep, snoring lightly in her bed. He stayed quiet and went to sit at the table, grabbing a baked apple to silence his rumbling stomach. Guilt washed over him as he remembered what he did today. Savi came onto him, but he knows he shouldn’t have let that happen. He was ashamed of his conduct.

The laughter of the phantom rang in his ears. Flashes of its grin and glowing eyes projected in his mind. He felt ill.

Link disassociated. He sat at the table for three hours and it went by in minutes.

What snaps him out of it are the screams of terror he hears from upstairs.

His mind immediately jumps to the worst possible situation. He grabs the master sword and sprints upstairs. He sees nothing but a scared girl, crying from a nightmare.

“Zelda, what is it?” He asks, setting the sword town and running to her. He kneels by her bed and takes her hand. “I’m here, what’s wrong.” He whispers.

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“B-but. The guardian, it got you. It killed-”

“It was just a nightmare, it wasn’t real.” Link reassures her. “I’m here, breathing, alive as ever.”

Zelda shakes her head, she’s clearly so traumatized that she cannot differentiate dream from reality anymore, she probably thinks him saying that is the dream.

“Here, feel.” He grabs her hand and places it against his chest where his heart is. “Feel that?” He asks, “Bum-bum. Bum-bum.” He whispers. “That’s my heart. Its pumping, it's beating.” Zelda sobs and he pulls her into his chest. “It’s okay, I got you. I’m here.”

He holds her for a moment and then stands up, “I’ll get the stool if it will help you sleep.” He turns to go.

“Stay with me.” She asks, tears wetting his collarbone.

“I’ll be right here, I’ll grab the stool.” He says.

“No, stay with me.” She says, and gestures to the bed.

“What?”

“Please. I cannot sleep without you by my side. I’m too afraid I’m going to lose you again.” She sniffles.

“Zelda I can’t-“

“Why?” She asks. “Because of decorum? Because I’m royal? Because you don't want to get caught?” She picks up her hands ‘None of that matters anymore’ she signs.

Link nods, “Are you sure?”

“Please.” She pleads.

Link moves back to her, trying to control his racing heart. Zelda scoots over to she’s closer to the wall, and Link carefully crawls into the covers of the bed. There wasn’t a ton of room, there would be no way for them to lay in the bed without being in full contact. “Is this okay?” He asks as he pulls the covers up.

She nods.

“Hold me?” She asks.

Link looks at her and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to kiss her. He nods and lays his head down, his chest facing up. He pulls her into his chest, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders and his right arm over his stomach to her waist. She tries to control her breathing, and it gets easier as their hearts begin to sync up.

Link wants to cry too, because this is the safest he has felt in a hundred and three years. This is the most at home he has ever been. He mentally-pinches himself because he’s sure he’s dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up, in fact, he starts to fall into the deepest sleep he’s ever had.

Every muscle in his body starts to relax, his eyes get heavy, and the scent of the girl on his chest fills his dreams with images of fairy forests and gentle ocean waves and the time of day when the sun moves into twilight.

This is home.

[simpingforthisonedeer]

Hey I saw that you had a tumblr and that we could ask questions about Fuego’s project

Chapter 16 was honestly really cool for setting up a lot of situations. It had a lot of unexpected stuff that makes me really excited for future chapters🔥

I like how you made a big change to canon because if it’s no longer the dark triad that’s the problem, then what would future problems be? I also like how the past wizard king is still relevant and comes back. And man I like the complex relationships you write. Jayce and Arthur may fight but they know that at the end of the day that they’re still on the same team and have each others back.

I really liked the interactions between the captains even tho it was very little, it gave us some subtle ideas about their personalities and dynamics. But uh oh they know Aika has time magic now I wonder what that’s gonna lead to.

You write the relationships between characters so well and true to canon but also give us more than just canon shows us so good job🔥❤️

Also, it’s so much like Aika to just give out an assignment instead of saying congratulations but I hope she’ll at least praise him for a job well done when he’s done😂

So what is he doing tho? I read into the concepts that you elaborated in your end notes and damn my head hurt.

ANON AAAAAAAA YOU ARE SO SWEET YOU PRAISE ME TOO MUCH

I really do love writing the complex relationships between characters and especially the canon ones because they are all outstanding individuals and we deserve to see how they shine even more through each other. When they say friendship is magic i really wanna show that so thank you anon!!

So Fuegoleon's project.

Yeah it is a doozy but I guess I'll try to give you more context and elaborate more.

So my idea of giving Fuegoleon a project came from my frustration that he didn't really have a spirit dive form yet or any sort of magic awakening

I am also a big fan of Fire Force and science and I loooooved how it showed the versatility of fire and it's role in science because it plays a big role in literally everything.

Black Clover has also shown the potential to be flexible in its magic despite having strict attributes through the various magic forms that people develop like Julius devloping transformation magic, zora using trap magic, ralph using memory magic, and magna using soul chain deathmatch.

Fire as a concept and physical medium has both spiritual and scientific aspects to it and Fuegoleon absolutely deserves to wield some of its cooler aspects besides an oversized lizard.

Fuegoleon's paper title is "Reversibility of Entropy through the Attribute of Fire: An Expansion on Laplace’s Demon."

Let me elaborate on the terms used.

The scientific term IRL is actually the "Irreversibility of Entropy." Entropy is basically how chaotic and random the world is. A solid state object has less entropy than a liquid state object and a liquid state object has less entropy than gaseous state objects. Basically gas is one of the more chaotic states an object can be. In real life science, you cannot physically reverse engineer some processes in the world because some phenomenon disperse in such random unpredictable ways.

Fire requires fuel, oxygen and heat. Once you create a fire and then extinguish it, you cannot bring back the original flame without using new materials and you cannot certainly bring back the materials used to create it in the first place. We currently don't have any processes that can do that because it is physically and theoretically impossible unless you reverse time.

Fuegoleon's job here is to bring back the fire created and extinguished by mana. He can do it using his fire magic but he would easily fall into just recreating the fire instead of reverse engineering it. So spoiler for future chapters, but he would essentially seal his fire attribute but still be able to use mana and use his familiarity with fire to bring back fire that was once there in a certain space.

It's basically a really elaborate science/mana experiment that tests just how much he knows fire as a magic form and also as a non-magic phenomenon.

Laplace's Demon is the concept that if you knew the past and present variable in any sciency phenomenon, you could predict the future of it. And that if you knew it's present and future variables, you could predict it's past. And this has proven to be untrue in our world because there is just a lot of randomness so you can't accurately predict anything but in a world of magic, it can be done because the people in it can physically interact with and move things in a way that we can't.

But yeah, I'm sorry for including nerdy topics in my fic but im also not sorry cus it's my fic 😝

Thank you for reading and I hope you'll continue to enjoy it!

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 16 : Wishes and Requests

A Much More wholesome Chapter compared to the last one. Have fun :3 I tried to make this as long as possible for Vibes.

[𝚆𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚛, 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 17, 10:00 𝙰𝙼]

Bruce and Vlad were facing each other in Bruce's Office, Vlad looks like a mess, not too much but his neck was littered with Hickeys that were badly covered with a rushed makeup foundation, he was obviously In a hurry when Bruce Wayne of all people called him over for an urgency meeting regarding Danny and Dante.

Concerning for Vlad's Ears but now that he looks at the situation he sounds more relieved that it's nothing serious, Vlad has an assistant with him who he insisted stay due to reasons he can't disclose. He was a tall pale man with Pure White hair and Red Eyes, one being blind having an odd scar on it which Bruce didn't question.

The "assistant" staring at Vlad Masters almost lovingly and Vlad Visibly avoiding said gaze of the Assistant, Bruce cleared his throat, "You sir is Danny's Foster and God Father Yes? Sir Vladimir Masters?" Bruce finally speaks up which got the Man's Attention, "Yes and Please just Vlad is Fine."

He crosses his legs now his expression a more serious tone, "I don't suppose this... Discussion Is of anything bad they have done... Perhaps...?" Vlad Squints his eyes suspiciously as he picked up the cup of tea in the table Infront of him and takes a light sip. "Ofcourse not Vlad, I was just hoping to get your permission to ask Danny James to be my W—" Vlad cuts him off with a light clink of his teacup on the table.

"I knew That you Mr. Wayne is someone who's into.. adopting wards due to stuff of your past. But truly I did not expect you to set eyes on Our Daniel. But do know that yes! You can ask him but his decisions is for himself, he will decide whether he wants to be your Ward-esque adopted son." Vlad states sternly with an obvious Business Formal Smile.

The Assistant Behind Him looked very pleased, his grin was cheeky and smug as if he knew what's going to happen next... Eerie that he feels as though he's being watched intently and Cautiously at the same time by the servant. Bruce nods at Vlad's statement, "But my Dante Is MY biological son, thus he's mine." Vlad states with a slight tone of threat, "Ofcourse! I won't take him from you nor will I ever try, after all he IS dating my Son Jason now isn't he?" Bruce chuckled in his Playboy type of persona.

"Is that all sir Wayne? Because if so I must tell you that I believe some.. of your wards has been eavesdropping on us by the door. " Vlad states finishing his tea. "This is such exquisite Tea, you should learn how to make something like this Chron." {Nickname he gave to Clockwork for Public Appearances) Vlad eyes his assistant and he merely smiles sweetly.

Bruce looked at the door and soon heard footsteps rumbling running and Bruce excuses himself and heads out of the door. He saw Jason, Tim, Damian and Dick Trying to Play Casual And walking side by side together. "Boys." Bruce says strongly with a deep voice.

"SCATTER!" Damian yells and uses his grapple hook to pull himself up to the next Floor, Jason Running for the window and Jumping out without hesitation, Dick Diving down the flight of stairs as if it's water and Tim running for one of the rooms and locking it before he entered the vents and Crawled. Bruce just facepalms and pinches the bridge of his nose, Stress. But soon his stressed expression was interrupted by a chuckle of One Vlad Masters.

"Children Amiright..? Atleast yours don't paint your hair as you sleep or get it tangled with ribbons and glitter." Vlad says as if just truly used to seeing and experiencing chaotic Kids.

Ellie and Dante are truly chaotic kids, Danny being the Last Logical Voice of Reason taking after Jazz with his method of WWJD or In long terms "What Would Jazz Do?" Which is quite amusing for Vlad to see calculate Danny trying to calm down the two chaos demons from hell—. Cough.

"I wish you luck in your future endeavors and if Danny does wish to become a part of your ward hopefully he also uses his Methods of Calculation on how to settle them down... Just like Jazz.." Vlad muttered with soft endearing eyes and closes them before fixing his tie and hair. "I must leave now sir Wayne." Vlad says and bows politely before walking out whilst also saying thank you to Alfred for The amazing tea he had prepared.

Considering that he is that Odd Meta, Dante Master's Father he would most likely become In-laws obviously due to how Dante and Jason are settling with each other, determined to be with each other through marriage as well. Hopefully he's not as weird.. or dangerous as Dante.

(HE WISHES—)

"I THINK I BROKE A WRIST AND MAYBE ALSO A RIB!" Dick yelled from across the hall from where he DIVEBOMBED FROM THE SECOND TO THE FIRST FLOOR. Alfred sighs and Grabbing his medkit and going to Dick and Bruce just sighs. How does Vlad Handle it? Two Chaos Demons? Damn.

Bruce just thought to himself as he walked to the MEDBAY in the Batcave where Danny is Resting from his injuries, Where a Yeti who they found out is named Frostbite is caring for the "little Ghost Prince" or "the Great One". "Hello there Frostbite..." Bruce greets the giant who was entertaining Cassandra by letting her sit on one of his shoulders. "Ah! Good morning little one." He says with a gentle voice of caring. "I sensed Plasmius's Presence, I suppose you finally had the "Adoption" talk with him?" Frostbite asks nicely as he checks on Danny's Vitals.

"Yes your recommendations to converse with him about it is quiet recommendable as he told what he needed to say... He looked quite tired. I wonder why?" Bruce says as he sits beside Danny's Bed, Frostbite chuckles.

Bruce doesn't remember when he got casual and dropped his guard around the Big Yeti but he was no danger at all unless unprovoked as Dante reassured him, unlike the Fright Knight Ghost, Frostbite had a more chilling yet soft presence that calmed nearly everyone down essentially making him a giant teddy bear for the Batfam and He and Alfred seem to also get along quite well which added more the calmness factor for the ever so Cautious Family of Genius Detectives Batfam Wayne's.

"Plasmius is possibly a mess because he is an Ancient's consort! Or husband as humans like to call it in this era!" Frostbite says as he Replaces Danny's Ectoplasm IV bag with a newer one. "Husband? His husband is a god?" Bruce asks just surprised and shocked genuinely and Frostbite just nods happily.

Bruce stared at the thin fragile boy in the bed Infront of him, "How is he doing? Will he wake up soon?" Bruce asks as Frostbite gently places Cass on his Lap who was still sleeping, "He'll be able to wake up soon as long as we are consistent with the Great One's Treatment!" Frostbite reassures him, Bruce couldn't help but bring himself to smile tho small but still a smile nontheless.

It's been a long time since something warmed his heart or something made him or his family this Calm, for the first time in so long no one was forced to come together but instead they all willingly gathered for Dinner Waiting for Danny to wake up. It's like something made them care for the boy more than they would for others.

Truly it was an odd feeling but Bruce liked it as it brought the family together.

Makes even the Bat's Heart Cry.

[𝚅𝚕𝚊𝚍 𝙿𝙾𝚅, 𝚃𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚂𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷]

"Uhm, excuse me, I'm here behind in the backseat. Clockwork. STOP TOUCHING MY FATHER!" Dante yells clearly pissed That Clockwork who was driving was Touching... Stuff... Well, he was touching Vlad's Thigh specifically and squeezing. "Gasp. You called me your father for the first time!" Vlad rejoiced mentally and Dante just Clicked his tounge in annoyance as Clockwork looked even more smug and Cheeky. "You Bastard! Get your hands of my Dad! Stop this shit. DO IT IN PRIVATE!!" Dante yells again covering his eyes and Face overall.

"Hmmm... I'll think about it.... No I won't." Clockwork continues to Caress Vlad's Thigh. "I DID NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT MY MENTOR IS FUCKING MY GODDAMNED DAD!! THIS IS THE WORST!!" Dante groaned and Banging his head on his seat, "I need brain bleach hehe—" Ellie says trying to mask her pain as well, seeing your Dad Be Gay and Zesty with another man Infront of you is a universal Second Hand Embarrassment and Humiliation that the two did not want to see, hear or feel. "Please stop." Ellie tries to plead Clockwork, "Yes Chronos, St—" Vlad was cut off by Clockwork Chuckling, "I like it when you call my by my first Name..." He licks his lips and Dante screams.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! STOOOOOPP!! THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING, THIS IS TORTURE!!" He yells still groaning endlessly and Growling as he chewed on a Chewtoy that Vlad had bought for him when he gets too angry. "I DONT WANNA SEE THIIIIS!!!" Ellie yells with Dante, both annoyed and Groaning and now fighting each other for the Chew Toy.

Vlad sighs and rests his face on his hand clearly used to this chaos based by how relaxed he is. "Sometimes the reasons I miss Jasmine is because of these Hell Spawns... Please do not ever get along with Damian Wayne..." He pinches the bridge of his nose in Fatherly Agony.

Clockwork still kept squeezing his thigh and sliding his hand on a part that's private so Vlad slaps his hand, "Too Far." Vlad states and Clockwork laughs in amusement. "Everything will be In place as how it should be Darling Plasmiu—" Clockwork was cut off my Ellie's Screech. Dante gave up and gave her his chewtoy. Clockwork just clears his throat and kept driving.

"Everything soon will make sense and you'll see that the Little Ghost Prince will be happy with a family that'll love him unconditionally and raise him... The Former Queen Regent Jasmine would be happy although she would probably hit me with the Iconic Phantom Creepstick™ if she ever found out the Methods I used is not her ideal choices." Clockwork giggled teasingly and Amusingly, knowing Jazz in the afterlife or in her reincarnation would burn him alive if she ever found out what he did to Danny, it was Amusing still.

Time will always line up the missing pieces and his plan will settle itself the way he wants it to.

Patience is all It needs. And a little bit of Time Interference.

Hehe.

Dan Phantom and Ellie is my Soul Animal.

Totally Feral AND Insane.

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 1: Gravity Falls

Dipper POV

I stare out the window, holding the note Wendy gave me that day 12 years ago. After so long, those years of endless torture from my family, I can finally be free.

No, we can finally be free.

Bill....

Oh, how I missed that damn dream, demon. Years of planning and years of research. The moment weirdmaganen ended and gravity falls was back to normal, something in me felt off. I couldn't stop thinking about Bill.

All I wanted was Bill. The moment he took over my body filled me with so much desire when I got my body back. It's as if he left a piece of himself inside of me. A permanent reminder that I would always be his.

But of course, I was too young and stupid to understand such feelings. Those feelings for Wendy were my hormones raging for some form of attraction for anything that looked appealing. And Wendy took the cake.

I watch as the trees fly by the window of the bus. I yawn, taking a glance at Mable, who is bouncing in her seat next to me. For someone who's 25 years old, she sure still acts like a 13 year old.

Nothing really changed since the two of us left. I grew facial hair and gained a few inches over mable. Came out as gay to my parents, who completely disowned me. Mable was hardly ever in the picture during that time in my life. She was always out partying or hooking up with some guy.

But of course, she was always everyone's favorite. She lacked the awkwardness I gained that should have been equally split between the two of us! Honestly, I hate claiming her as my twin at times.

Her personality stayed the same as well. Still as selfish and naive as ever, which comes in handy at times. We grew distant when I started to change. I felt my personality grow darker compared to her sunshine and rainbows one.

People grew eerie of me by the time I turned 16. Rock music became my best friend, but I wasn't a punk rock emo gothic freak. Those depressed waste of space really piss me off. Maybe that's why I hated Robbie so much. All the fake angst and unnecessary anger grew annoying and out of place, in my opinion. Hopefully, he grew up and gained some balls since I've been gone.

The bullying at school ended once I learned how to fight and throw knives. Knives became my most favorite thing in the world. The sharp yet light blade, the different types of beautiful leather handles. I brought my whole collection with me.

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention I'm moving here. Coming out as gay to my parents while also adding that I'm not going to college really added to the hatred they now shared for me. But it didn't bother me, I left a little gift for the both of them under their bed. I guess I won't be hearing from them for the rest of my life. I chuckle to myself at the thought.

Mable looks at me, tilting her head to the side. "What's funny dip n dop?"

I jump, my smile now in a thin line, "Something you wouldn't understand, Mable."

"Oh, come on, Dipper! You never say anything to me!" She whines while shaking my shoulder aggressively.

One of the things I made clear to Mable over the years is to never touch me. I turn my head to look down at her frame, glaring into her eyes. "Don't. Touch. Me." I said through my teeth.

Mable quickly pulls away and looks down, nuzzling her head against waddles. "S-sorry Dipper. I always forget...."

I roll my eyes but smile and flick her forehead. "Whatever, cheer up. We're here."

Mable looks out the mirror and cheers, already up from her seat and running to the double doors of the bus. And I'm left with the bags, no surprise there. I carry my things on my back while placing her bags under my arms.

I walk off the bus with a sigh, still carrying our bags. Mable is currently in a group hug with Candy and Grenda. I notice Wendy patting her head with Robbie standing beside her. I raise an eyebrow at the rings on their fingers. I'm trying my best to hold back laughter. Those two got married?!

I glance back to Mable and see Pacifica. Her blonde hair is so bright that it's blinding. Standing next to her is Gideon. They didn't look much different, but at least gideon ditched that stupid suit. I finally noticed Soes and my Grunkles. Stan looked the same, but Stanford seemed to age a bit. Maybe stress from researching too much.

"Oh guys, I missed so you Much! And I'm so happy for you two!" Mable cheers, looking at Robbie and Wendy.

Robbie scratches the back of his head as a light blush tents around his cheeks. He looks down, pouting. "Whatever."

"Lighten up, Rob. And thanks, Mable. Never thought I would fall for him again. A lot has changed."

I chuckle, shaking my head at her words. "Damn right it has."

All eyes are on me now. I raise an eyebrow, shrugging my shoulder. "What?"

"Is that really you, Dipper Pines?" Gideon asks in shock.

"Oh wow, Dipper, nice glow up." Pacifica winks.

"Heh, you're finally taller than Mable. Congrats, man." Wendy said, walking over to me for a hug.

I laugh and hug back the best way I could since I'm carrying all of our bags. "Thanks, I guess."

"Kid finally got some muscle!" Stan cheers while patting me on my back. Stanford nods his head and smiles.

"Well, why are we just standing around here for? We have a surprise for you two, my dudes." Soos said while walking forward towards the mystery shake.

Once, Soos opens the door, Mable and I are greeted by cheers of happiness. "WELCOME BACK MYSTERY TWINS!"

Mable rushes in and hugs almost everyone while I stand there and simply wave. The party starts right after we arrive. I sigh, walking up the stairs with Stanford behind me.

"So how have you been, Dipper? Are there any plans for college?"

I shake my head, opening the first door to Mable's and I old room. "Nope. I see no reasoning in college when I'm one of the most bright minded people in this world. College would just be a waste of my brain and time." I said, ending with a yawn.

"You have a point, but having a college degree makes job seeking easier." He pointed out. "And by the way, this will be your own room. Mable has the other room across the hall."

I roll my eyes. Of course, she gets the bigger room - the same room we fought over that day. I smile, dropping my bags near my old bed. "That's great! Thanks, grunkle Ford."

"No problem. I am looking forward to making new discoveries with my great nephew again." He smiles and pats my shoulder. "I'll meet you back downstairs." He said while walking out.

I hum as I unload my things, fixing my room up to my liking. It didn't take long. All I have are my books, journals, knives, and necessities. I walk to Nable's room and throw her bags on the bed. This really is unfair, and it's getting under my skin.

I walk down the stairs, digging my nails into my skin while scratching my arm too hard. I grab a soda from the table and take my place in a corner of the room. While I observe everyone, I notice Pacifica glancing at Mable from time to time. I chuckle, taking a sip of my drink. I knew she had a thing for my twin sister. That'll come in handle one day.

I look to my right, catching Candy and Gideon staring at me. They both quickly turn their heads, faces covered in blush. Does Candy still have that stupid crush on me? Ugh, that'll be annoying, but what's the deal with Gideon?

Candy begins to walk towards me, her smile determining but her eyes nervous. "Hello, Dipper."

"Hm." I said, taking another sip of my drink.

"So how have you been these past years? Have a girlfriend, maybe?"

I chuckle, looking down at her. "Cutting right to the chase, huh?"

She blushes and laughs. "How can I not? You've grown extremely attractive since I last saw you."

"It's called puberty candy. And I was 13 the last time you saw me. I'm 25 now."

She nods her head, "Yes....so I was wondering... now that we both matured..if you wanted to give us a try?"

I try my best to hold back my laughter. Gideon stared at us the whole time, jealously. Hurting her feelings would bring joy, but I can't give my true self away.

"Sorry to break it to you, Candy, but I don't swing that way."

Her eyes widen as if they're being squeezed out of her eyesockets. "YOU'RE GAY?!" She shouts loud enough for everyone to hear.

I sigh heavily, all eyes on us. I did not want this type of attention. I didn't want the whole town knowing I enjoy dick up my ass. That's none of their business. Now I'm regretting not telling her in the harshest way that even if I weren't gay, and if she was the last woman on earth, I'd rather die than to be left alone in her presence.

"You're what Dipper?" Wendy asks a bit taken aback herself, which is understandable.

"Oh wow, dude. Never thought you'd go that way." Soos pips in.

Pacifica didn't seem like she cared. I'm pretty sure it's because of her secret as well. Gideon, on the other hand, looks hopeful. The thought of hooking up with him actually makes my flesh crawl.

I chug down the rest of my drink, crushing the can with my hands. This was so annoying and stupid. "Yes, I'm gay. It's 2019 people. Keep up with the times, and if you have a problem with it, then -" I was cut off by a loud phone ringing.

Stanford and grunkle Stan shake from their shock, and Stan picks up the phone. "What is it?" He answers rudely.

"Yes, that's me. Now that do you -......what?!" He shouts, his eyes filling with dread and grief. "Ok....Thank you. Bye."

Stan ends the phone call, pulling Stanford to the side. He told him whatever the news was, his demeanor shifting. My gunkles turn to both me and Mable, who looks really worked up. "What is it grunkle Stan? What's the matter?" She questions.

"Kids....there's no good way I can say this but, you're parents are dead. A bomb was placed under their bed, and it went off the moment they both laid down....the police have no idea who could've done this. The house is completely destroyed.

The shack is filled with gaps and apologetic expressions towards the Pines family. Mable breaks down into tears, falling to her knees. I force myself to look as hurt as I can. I reach down to lift Mable up, trying to calm her down. Luckily, her friends helped.

Once the news settled, and everyone left, the party is shut down. Robbie, Wendy, Pacifica, Candy, Grenda, and Gideon offer to stay and help clean while Mable, and I head to bed. Mable wishes me goodnight, pulling me into a tight hug.

My face remains blank, but I hug her nonetheless. "Just get some rest tomorrow, mable. They're find who did that to our parents.."

Lies.

She nods her head and pulls away. She walks into her room as I do the same. I sit down on the edge of my bed, reaching for one of my journals. Before I can open it, the door to my room opens. I quickly place it under my blanket, turning around to face who's at my door. It's just my Grunkles.

"Hey Dipper, how are you holding up?" Stan asks while sitting to my right.

I nod my head, staring at my hands.

Stanford sits to my left, rubbing his hand up and down my back in a soothing motion. "We know you're trying to stay strong for Mable, but it's alright to cry."

What am I, five? I nod my head as tears begin to fall. "Wh-who could have done this?" I ask, my voice cracking.

Stanford and Stan pull me into a hug as I sob. "It's ok, Dipper. You and Mable will stay with us. We're here for you guys. Everyone is." Stanford said.

I nod my head, pulling away from the both of them. "Th-Thanks you two....but I would like to be alone right now."

They both nod their heads. "We understand, Dipper. We all need time, and it's ok that you're gay. We still love you the same." Stan said before standing and leaving the room.

"If you need us, we'll be downstairs." Stanford said.

I nod my head, watching them leave. I stand and walk to my door, locking it. I rush to my bed and jump in it, pulling out my journal from under my blanket. I lay on my back, opening the journal. Tears still falling from my eyes, I gently glaze my hands over the first page. Bill's circle. I feel my frown quickly stretch into a smile as I turn to the second page, Bill's human form.

Oh, how he looks so godly. How tan he is, that damn bright yellow tux. Those sparkling locks of hair that I could run my fingers through all day. His twisted smile, I can just hear his laugh bouncing inside my skull.

I place the journal on my chest as I start to laugh. I start from chuckling to heavy cackling. I place a hand over my mouth so my laughter won't be heard throughout the shack. The rush of soon seeing Bill taking completely over me. I slowly close my eyes, thinking of the little song he used to play.

Don't know where

Don't know, wheeeeeen~

Til we meet again...

"Some sunny day...."

"Haha! See ya soon, Pinetree!~"

[balsamfir-fics]

a hope redefined (part 1)

Genres: angst, post S1 canon, more angst, romance, eventual smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of), dad!vik, political tensions, growing up, the human condition, some fluff

Pairing: Viktor/AFAB Reader

Warnings: series will have eventual smut, mentions of difficult pregnancy/injury/civil war. this prelude mentions spicy activities. she/her pronouns, but no use of YN.

Summary: Viktor shouldn’t be alive.

He shouldn’t have survived the blast of the Council attack, and even if he did his sands of time should have soon run out. And yet here he stands, part man and part machine, in a future he never planned for and an augmented body he never expected to have.

With no template to follow, Viktor forges a new path towards happiness as he grapples with reconciling the man he once was and the man he could become. Complicated as this path may be, he knows better than to waste an opportunity to spend his remaining years with you, the person he’s kept in his heart ever since you were children. Amidst the chaos of an antebellum Runeterra, Viktor finds his freedom, his future, and his family -- retelling these events through vignettes and letters to his daughter.

Chapters: Prelude | Part 1

Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

Author Notes: Unedited. Threequel and final part to a hope never forgotten and a hope at risk. This can be read independently of its predecessors, though reading those first will better contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Previous fics summarized below if you don't have time to read them!

Prequel summary: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.

A Hope at Risk follows canon for episodes 5-9 of Season 1, with some references to LoL lore for post-Season 1 events. Viktor hides his prognosis and the nature of his Hexcore experiments from YN for as long as possible, until his life is in jeopardy after the Council attack and YN finally finds out. YN and Jayce share the decision-making burden in not destroying the Hexcore so that Viktor's life can be saved. Viktor withdraws while processing all of these black-swan events (Hexcore integration, new city of Zaun, his Zaunite and Piltovan identities, etc), but hopes to work through his demons enough to return to YN. In the meantime, he moves to Emberflit Alley in Zaun where he hopes to rebuild who he is and figure out who wants to be.

If missed, the prior work notes that Viktor refers to YN as 'Sparrow' sometimes, which is because he finds her lively and likeable.

This last work refers to Arcane Season 1 canon first and foremost, then interprets post-Season-1 events by incorporating elements from older LoL lore. The majority of this piece will not follow Season 2 canon as it's not out at the time of writing, but Viktor's plotline in this work is written to be as plausible of a Season 2 fan theory as possible.

The first work in this series deals primarily with hope as per the title; the second deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided. This final work reckons with recovery, rebirth, and rebuilding.

White light washes over Viktor, the sensation somewhat uncomfortable because he can feel the static humming of the Hextech that powers the while building. The hum courses through him, equal parts dissonant and attuned to his own wavelength, and the dichotomy sets his anxiety through the roof. He pulls his cloak around his form tighter, then lets the fabric go, then tightens it again; he can’t decide if he’s cold or hot or everything in between. Does he want to be beheld? Does he want to hide, or to relieve himself of the heavy blue fabric?

Viktor eventually decides to throw off the cloak in a fit of frustration, shaking off the fabric into the seat next to him. It slumps off the slick plastic at once, red inner-lining-side first, and he scowls at the sight of it.

Jayce looks up from across the hallway. The Councillor’s face, normally flushed and swarthy, takes on an odd pallor in the terrible lighting. Viktor imagines that his own face seems white as a sheet, if not by his own usual paleness, then by his urge to vomit, and thirdly by the light overhead. Something in Jayce’s expression makes Viktor scowl; he’s not sure if his old partner intended to comfort him or not, but whatever it is has the opposite effect. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Jayce says, fingers worrying at the skin on his thumbs. “But she’ll be okay.”

“If you don’t know what to say, then I highly recommend silence,” Viktor snaps. He drops his head into his hands (ow; he forgot just how much metal he’d laced into his fingertips and how little he had — that is, none —  in his forehead), fingers irritatedly ruffling his untamable hair. Mel, bless her, places her hand over Jayce’s to keep the man from opening his mouth again. Jayce wisely closes his lips, but elects instead to bounce his knee in his own worry.

Viktor glares at the movement as dark thought swirl in his mind. If only it were appropriate to unleash the wrath of his Hexclaw on Jayce’ thigh — anything to reduce the amount of unwanted input in what felt like Viktor’s final seconds of sanity — but alas, a hospital hallway was no place to be misusing one’s own dangerous technologies. He’s had enough of hospitals for a lifetime, having been in and out for his own maladies (most of which were triggered by his deteriorating lungs, all thanks to Zaunite Gray) or those of the people he kept most close (which were few, but these people were disappointingly prone to being attacked). He much prefers the comfort of his laboratory and former apartment in Zaun; the little unit in Emberflit Alley had become a place of health and recovery not only for him but for the community members he was now able to assist. Some ailments, however, could not be solved with his biomechanical expertise. Or perhaps they could, if he decided to cavort with chembarons and throw away his morals for the sake of bleeding-edge treatments. But he knows that a filigree-fine line exists between his life’s work and the corrupted body modifications made available by those with more lax standards of care, and thus he begrudgingly admits that hospitals do have their uses in the business of saving lives.

At the slightest noise coming from the door a few feet away from him, Viktor bounces to his feet with Jayce in hot meerkat-esque pursuit. But it’s always Mel who yanks them both down; Jayce with a pointed tug, and Viktor with a perfectly raised eyebrow. “You’re both too tall and take up too much space; you’re getting in the way,” she reminds them each time as disgruntled nurses mutter their discontent while side-stepping the two men. It’s still unsettling to Viktor to be this new height; for the majority of his adult life he’d been slight in frame and much shorter than Jayce. He’s still reasonably wiry now, but the Hexcore seems to want him a bit more elongated. Viktor finds that he doesn’t particularly mind this; it’s not something he ever yearned for, but it is somewhat useful to be able to find you easily in a Progress Day crowd or to be able to build his shelving vertically and make use of every inch of his unit.

Then it hits him — he has no idea what the Hexcore means for anyone’s future but his own. It’s lengthened (and saved) his life, given him strength, and more importantly given him the science needed to make Hexcore technology available to Zaunite masses. But Viktor is alone in his augments; there is only one Void-touched Hexcore on the planet, and it briefly lived inside him. To what extent is he human and to what extent is he machine? He’s measured every inch of himself with careful documentation and knows the exact percentage of biological to technical matter on his person. But with the voice inside his head (or rather, flowing through his veins) being unique to him alone, he is reminded at perhaps the worst possible moment that he is entering into a greater unknown than when he first carved runes into his leg.

He waves at Jayce, almost snapping his fingers to get the other man to look up before Mel elbows Jayce in the side. Eyebrows raised in question, he rattles off a series of questions to his former partner.

“The blood samples we ran; the last series had no traces of Void in the plasma, correct?”

“Affirmative…” Jayce says tentatively, unsure what Viktor is getting at.

“And what of the blood cells themselves?”

“We haven’t seen corrupted cells in years — wait, you know all of this—“

Viktor cuts him off, eyes wild as he races through his memory for the data, the facts, the evidence. “And the last blood sample to surpass our threshold was?”

“I don’t know, three years ago? Where are you going with this—”

“—Viktor,” Mel cuts in, her hand gently squeezing her fiancé. “There shouldn’t be any issues. Your blood hasn’t presented with Void in years and you’ve had no symptoms since you perfected the Hexcore; it’s been several iterations since we last saw any evidence of the Void in any of your technologies. She will be fine,” Mel emphasizes firmly. “—And she will be in perfect health.”

At those last words, Viktor’s panic rises again. Yes, he’s doing well now, but how many years had he been inhaling the noxious Gray? It had nearly eroded his own lifespan to a single, fraying thread, and he knows that the risk of illnesses lying dormant is non-zero. Could he have—?

Mel gives him a withering look (how dare she? She should be comforting him right now, not scolding him—) that sends him settling back into his chair as best as he can. “No amount of fretting will change anything now, Viktor. Whatever happens, everything will work out in the end.”

He bites at the inside of his cheek, crosses his good leg over his custom-built one, and tries his damnedest to calm his racing heart. When another loud noise comes from the room, he tenses, but stays put. Picking at his nails, Viktor forces himself to think about anything other than what’s happening a few feet away from him, and focuses instead on the miracle of his own survival. If he could make it through all that, then certainly, hopefully, probably things would be just fine for you. 

————————————————————————————————————————————————

Viktor sits at his ‘operating table,’ left hand restrained and right hand poised with metal instruments between his fingers. A bead of sweat trickles from his forehead to his cheek despite the cool, fresh air he’s made it a point to have circulating throughout his home. It was right for him to have sent you away, he thinks. You’d only have gotten unnecessarily worried and perhaps even prevented him from completing this task quickly. It wasn’t a knock on you, of course; he appreciates the concern and his heart wrenches at the thought of you pacing in your old room at the Heimerdinger Estate while you wait for his letters. But he knows what he’s doing is nothing short of risky, and he finds it best to not concern you more than necessary.

He can do this… right? He’s not quite sure. While he’d taken advantage of the Council’s attention being spent wholly on the impending war with Noxus, as well as exploited some of Jayce’ guilt in coercing his former partner to let him stay awake during his first amputation, it was one thing to have a team of Piltover’s best surgeons working on one limb. It was entirely another to attempt the same on your own, at home, without meaningful assistance beyond a lumbering sanitation golem. 

t wasn’t Blitzcrank’s fault he was built too large for fine motor control. The golem had been largely uncomfortable with Viktor’s proposal, but it was in the greater part of his nature to cede to his maker. Blitzcrank seemed to understand that this procedure was necessary for Viktor’s own betterment, if not that of the twin cities Piltover and Zaun. He understood purging and cleaning, and when Viktor explained the procedure to Blitzcrank in those terms, the golem seemed much more accepting of it.

You, on the other hand, were far too worried about the myriad risks (what if Viktor lost too much blood? What if there was irreparable damage? What if the Void refused to let Viktor go?), as you should be. But Viktor was adamant.

“I will not marry you until I have this removed from me,” he’d said in response to your first attempt at proposing. Then went the leg, but the hand remained out of his doctor’s concern for too many procedures at once.

Of course, you wanted him to have his hand removed back in Piltover’s hospitals, where your inherited wealth afforded unbelievable standards of care. But he refused again, asserting that he had learned enough during the first amputation to do it himself, and that it was necessary for him to do so if he were to help others with Hextech implants. That conversation ended in such a spectacular fight that you left Emberflit Alley a week before intended, and you’d kept your meetings to neutral grounds near the bridges for the weeks since.

If anything, the separation served as additional motivation for Viktor to get this done. The sooner that his Void-corrupted hand was gone and the whole debacle behind him, the sooner you would thaw and be back in his arms more regularly. So he hisses now as he plunges local anesthetic into his upper arm, then patiently waits the requisite time before poking at his flesh experimentally. With a scalpel, he tests his sensory status (Blitzcrank pointedly turns away so not to look) — oops, not ready yet, Viktor winces, and waits a few more minutes. A few tests later, he’s satisfied with the numbness. He takes a brief look at his meticulous notes, written from his observations during the first surgery. Jayce had tried watching, if only to assist with note-taking so that Viktor could be sure he hadn’t missed anything, but the younger man became squeamish very quickly and excused himself after the first cut. Now, Viktor squints at the methods he’s outlined for himself, following them nearly to-the-letter as he carefully separates his accursed hand from his arm.

A few hours later and well into the night, Viktor slumps over the table and weakly loosens his restraints. He’s fully soaked in his own sweat, which he becomes aware of as he drinks perhaps his first full glass of cold water in hours. Must remember to diligently take antibiotics, he instructs himself, before experimentally raising his working arm for a sniff. Recoiling, he tells himself to reach out to Heimerdinger at once for recommendations on the strongest medications available.

With bated breath, Viktor tries commanding his left hand to open. Nothing happens, and he wonders if perhaps he got his wires literally crossed and may have only a cosmetic appendage for the rest of his life. Then he remembers the considerable dose of morphine he’d administered throughout the whole process, and puts more effort into his mind-body-machine connection.  At first the movement is imperceptible; his new, mechanical pinky finger might have lifted by a fragment of a millimeter, or his exhausted eyes may be playing tricks on him. Then it happens; the metal of his finger unfurls, slowly, then the rest of his new fingers follow. He lets out a warbled cry of relief or triumph, he’s not sure which, and Blitzcrank ambles over to investigate at once.

“Does it work, Father?”

Viktor’s mouth quirks up at the edge at that; he may have given Blitzcrank sentience, but he had not programmed the golem with any such honorifics. That, the golem had chosen on his own.  “It does indeed,” Viktor crows. “But now, I am tired and sick of smelling iron and must sleep.”

He remembers to carefully shower first, but only realizes Blitzcrank has cleaned his gory mess for him when he wakes the next morning. Viktor raises his arm, experimentally opening and closing his mechanical fist, then leaps out of bed to send you a letter. In his excitement, his ankle tangles with his sheets and he is sent flying into the doorframe; the swollen edges of his wound scream in protest. Viktor, too, screams in agony, his good hand curling up in an effort to divert the sensation of pain, and he makes another mental reminder to ask you to send the best pain medication you can find. 

To his credit, Viktor’s sketch of his new, Voidless hand have omitted any gruesome scenes, and you arrive at his doorstep as soon as you can, ready to nurse him back to full health.

"I can’t believe you did it,” you tell him when he opens the door, though he’s not sure if you’re saying that in amazement or in disappointment (probably both). But he’s just relieved that he’s accomplished his goals, which unlock his ability to do what he really wants: propose. But for now, he shuts the door behind you and gingerly keeps his new implant away from any other surfaces. 

———————————————————————————————————————————————

Jayce leaves at some point to get coffee, in part because it is well past midnight and in part because Viktor looks terrible. Viktor takes the paper cup from the councilman with his left hand; the harsh overhead light glints off of his machinery and takes Viktor out of his reverie. With the cup delicately balanced in between his index finger and thumb, he wiggles the other three lightly and allows himself to appreciate his handiwork.

Several ‘upgrades’ in from his initial self-surgery, he’s happy with his results. His left hand no longer sends traces of metallic purple coming up the skin of the arm, and this iteration, he hopes, will be the last. It had taken a while to figure out what he needed; the first hand he’d built was carefully designed over a period of several fraught weeks, but had been clunky and finicky (as evidenced by the many plates he’d dropped). The next was better, but still tended to unsettle you when it made loud noises against any hard surfaces. Thus Viktor had continued to refine the technology, each iteration giving him greater and more human-like motor control than the last, but he’d insisted on keeping the mechanical aesthetic to remind himself (and everyone around him) that he was not trying to mimic biology.

He downs the coffee in two gulps — a ratio of far too much sweet-milk for such a small amount of coffee helped take down its heat. Crushing the cup in his hand, he tosses the paper into the waste bin nearby him, then wipes down any liquid droplets with a soft cloth he keeps in his pocket expressly for this purpose.

Viktor can feel Mel and Jayce staring at his hand. It’s been years, and they’re more used to seeing it than other people, but Viktor still finds himself self-conscious at times. It’s only natural; his leg is usually hidden beneath socks, shoes, and pants, but his hand is a bit harder to conceal (that, and wearing gloves over the hardware would lead to faster breakdown, what with fibers getting into the gears and the like). Piltovans especially have yet to fully warm up to the body augmentation idea; many, Viktor knows, still associatere43 any physical modifications with the chembaron goons that took advantage of the early-independence mayhem.

Things are better, certainly, what with a few higher-profile Piltovan elites beginning to adopt mechanical body parts when life-saving measures call for it. Even those of mechanical races, wary of Hextech’s strange combination of magic and technology, had started to cease their objections to human-machine augmentation. Bolbok in particular had been extremely opposed to Viktor’s work when he started, but once his dating life with humans improved, the councillor stopped insulting Hextech and started investing instead.

Curling his fingers into a tight fist, Viktor rests his forehead on his hand and exhales slowly — anything to calm his frazzled nerves. Then, miraculously, the door opens. Three pairs of eyes dart up to the nurse, who gives Viktor a tired, but warm look and beckons for him to follow her. Jayce manages to weakly clap Viktor on the back as he walks by. Viktor swallows thickly as he enters, feeling anxious energy crackle into his mechanics, but as soon as he sees your face (exhausted! But somehow, beneath your bedraggled hair and the sheen of sweat, it’s the expression on your face that radiates brilliantly through it all) it all dissipates. Your eyes raise to see meet his, and the sheer power of your gaze stops him in his tracks at the doorway.  It’s here, the future he always wanted but thought would never happen. He vows to spend the next eternity in your debt for the wonderful gift you’ve afforded him. 

“Come in, ‘Papa,’” the nurse encourages him. “It’s time to meet your little girl.”

At her prompting, Viktor rushes forward, completely ignoring the bustle of doctors and nurses either cleaning up or tending to your care. Of course, they’re used to such behavior from new fathers and expertly dodge him as he hurries to your side. He barely makes it; his legs feel like jelly. Even the one he’d been strengthening and improving year over year feels like it will buckle under his completely normal weight. He steadies himself on the bed railings with his metallic hand, forcing the grip itself to keep him upright, then dips down to press grateful kisses to your lips and face in total devotion.

You weakly chuckle at the sudden input, but before you can say anything, Viktor straightens his spine, looks to the skies, and takes a deep breath in preparation. You know what he’s doing; emotionally centering himself before his world falls apart. But this time, you know it’s falling apart for the best of reasons.

Finally, Viktor opens his eyes, then looks at the bundle in your arms. Tears flow down his cheeks at once. The only shred of his prior sanity, which had him locking his mechanical leg, keeps him upright now. You watch him with a tender gaze, gesturing with your head to ask him whether he wants to try holding the little being. He nearly breaks internally but nods with wavering eyes.

His voice drops to a whisper as he takes his child from your embrace. Everything about his posture screams `trepidation’ as he delicately and slowly brings the child closer into his chest. Viktor barely remembers to control the tactile temperature of his augmented hand — he brings it up to a comfortable warmth now.

“Hello, dear Robin,” he manages to get out. You smile at him, lifting a hand to rub at his arm encouragingly. As Viktor looks down into the scrunched face of his daughter, he feels his world both expanding and contracting in a million directions at once. “Welcome to your family.” Robin responds by opening her eyes. Though it’s clear she still loathes the bright overhead lights, as she drinks in her father’s face, you can tell she’s mesmerized. It’s the same for her father; he’s completely smitten, if the expression he wears is anything to go by. You squeeze his arm again. Viktor blinks, then whispers a ‘thank you’ over Robin’s little knit-capped head.

You’re not sure how many minutes pass with your trio engulfed in each other, but you snap out of the haze when your eye catches two heads in the door’s window. With a weak grin you turn to Viktor and warn him, “Love, your time might be up. I think there’s an aunt and uncle chomping at the bit to see your daughter.” An impressive scowl immediately spreads across Viktor’s features, though he’s careful to hide the expression from his little girl. His gaze follows your line of sight to find the bobbing heads. The scowl deepens for a millisecond before Viktor’s face cracks into a smile at the ridiculous sight of two esteemed councilpersons anxiously wavering at the door. He gestures them in with a tilt of his head; Jayce and Mel hurry in with hushed breaths at once.

The doctors and nurses dismiss themselves to give the family a chance to be alone. Jayce attempts to reach for your daughter, but Viktor only permits the others to perceive her at a safe distance. He perches on the side of your hospital bed, completely engrossed in this tiny human, and you think that maybe — just maybe, despite the conflicts raging on beyond the hospital walls — that the world will turn out alright. 

[irrealisms]

svsss and sexual violence pt. 3: non-bingqiu sexual violence

standard disclaimer at the beginning: i am not saying that this is the Only thing svsss is about, or that other readings are invalid; i am not intending to character-bash most of the characters here (while i will freely admit to thinking e.g. old palace master or qiu jianluo are pretty one-dimensionally shitty, lots--probably most--of the characters in this series who i mention as perpetrating SA are characters who do have depths & who i in fact like a lot! despite this meta, or perhaps because of it, my second-favorite character is luo binghe, and i am in fact a bingqiu shipper!); and, obviously, huge fucking CW for sexual abuse and adjacent topics. this section is about 2k.

(also: shoutout to @rooses40stepskincareroutine for motivating me to actually write all this out!)

TABLE OF CONTENTS pt 1: shen yuan's realization of himself as a target pt 2: gender and homophobia pt 3: non-bingqiu sexual violence (you are here) pt 4: shen qingqiu's body pt 5: we live in a society

so, in parts 1 & 2 i talk a lot about bingqiu as a site of sexual violence & shen yuan as a victim. but to establish that this is a theme of the book as a whole i want to talk more about the sexual and sexualized violence done and experienced by other characters! this one will be broken into a few subparts lol

volume 3, chapter 16

one of the things i noticed is that a lot of this ramps up all in the same chapter--in chapter 16 of vol 3 (i'm working with the official translation; in the web novel this is chapters 59-63, and I don't know which parts are in the same vs different chapters), we get four different references to sexual abuse of/by different characters, of varying levels of explicitness. some of these, on their own, i wouldn't necessarily take as evidence of sexual abuse, and i don't necessarily stand behind all of these as definitive proof of sexual abuse for the characters on a fully watsonian level--but to have four references, all incredibly close together, after spending a lot of the book on scenes of sexual assault and sexualized violence, is not an accident of writing, either. this is supporting my take of svsss as broadly concerned with sexual violence, as a text.

the first two happen at the same time, and are the most explicit: old palace master.

No wonder the Old Palace Master had always been so good to Luo Binghe, to an almost unsettling extent. No wonder that Su Xiyan, despite being his most beloved disciple, had held absolutely no attachment to Huan Hua Palace and had readily betrayed her sect to run off with a demon youth without ever looking back. This “love” must not have been much different from molestation. And the Old Palace Master’s favorable interest in Luo Binghe was definitely founded in the shade of a former beloved disciple that the sect leader had seen in him. He had extended his perverse possessiveness of Su Xiyan to Luo Binghe, deluding himself into thinking he could groom Luo Binghe into an obedient darling child.

it is IMO explicit text from this (and from what we hear later of Old Palace Master, Su Xiyan, and Tianlang-jun) that Old Palace Master groomed, raped, and generally sexually abused Su Xiyan. It is also explicit text from this section and the section surrounding it, in which Old Palace Master looks at Luo Binghe like he would touch him if he had hands and talks about how he looks like his mother (there's feminization as a site of sexual abuse again!) and SQQ thinks about how OPM was unsettlingly doting on LBH and that he was "thinking he could groom Luo Binghe", that OPM wanted to sexually abuse LBH in the same way.

It is not canon whether he successfully did sexually abuse LBH in the same way, but, well... I observe that (a) Luo Binghe was part of Huan Hua Palace for a while post-abyss (b) after SQQ's death, Luo Binghe makes OPM into a human stick, which in PIDW he does to SQQ--his abuser (c) OPM comments on LBH looking most like SXY "when his eyes are closed", and it's not like he would have been lacking in access to asleep LBH while LBH was his ~beloved disciple~ at huan hua palace (d) SQQ, known Most Oblivious Man Alive who is terrible at identifying when people are sexually attracted to each other & thinks that LBH (both versions) is Immune To Abuse Probably, after, like, a page of seeing OPM interact with LBH (who isn't even conscious for it), is going "OPM groomed LBH". It's not conclusive, but it's really fucking suggestive. At the very least, he extremely textually really wanted to rape Luo Binghe. We've got some Unsettling Implications going on in there!!!

the third implication in this chapter is Qiu Haitang, witnessing Shen Jiu's past:

“It’s not possible… Not possible…” she said, her lips trembling. “It’s fake! It’s all fake! It wasn’t my brother. My brother didn’t do anything wrong—it couldn’t have been him! You’re lying!”

now, on its own this isn't obviously sexual, and whether the Qiu Jianluo-Shen Jiu relationship was sexually abusive at all is something that is left ambiguous through the end of the book, and which I will discuss further later in this post. But this is a major reference to that relationship, which is...well, whether it was sexually abusive was ambiguous, it's not an unambiguous "no" either. this is my weakest point of the four IMO but put next to the others i don't think it's nothing.

the last implication in this chapter is actually from Tianlang-jun, and it's one I haven't seen talked about at all:

“Peak Lord Shen, don’t forget, your immortal body was in our hands for no short amount of time,” Tianlang-Jun replied, his words quite suggestive and teasing both. “There’s really too much we could have done.”

this is in the context of having forced him to drink demon blood while he was unconscious--something that luo binghe did earlier in the book in a very sexualized manner, which was both emphasizing the threat of sexual assault and deliberately analogous to being sexual assault (it's a very literal, physical violation of autonomy). and TLJ is insinuating (suggestively!) that they could have done more, that they had SQQ's unconscious body for a long time, that they could have done anything with it. his words quite suggestive. again, i don't think we have an unambiguous "TLJ raped SQQ" here; i'm not sure if, on the watsonian level, I think that he did? but certainly we have strong implications and threat of sexual abuse. which, again, we are getting a LOT of. right in a row.

qiu jianluo & shen jiu

okay, i said i'd come back to them, right? it is...never stated that shen jiu was sexually abused. i have read and enjoyed interpretations where he isn't, even. but he was, very much, a slave--someone who has to do whatever their master tells them or get punished. someone who is not allowed to say no. the history of slavery, especially when you look at people who were slaves to families instead of companies/factories, is very obviously full of sexual abuse. one of the word choices i'm not sure if i'm reading too much into is that it refers to the slavers as "human traffickers"--which is a phrase that can be and is used for a lot of nonsexual slavery (construction and agriculture have huge human trafficking problems) but in english it does also have very sexualized connotations such that the first thing most people think of wrt human trafficking is specifically sex trafficking (and the implementation of "trafficking" as a word is very racialized, and the combination of these is such that I generally prefer avoiding it altogether and using "slavery", but that's a tangent). and shen jiu, who is a slave being abused by his master...kills all the men of the qiu household, is afraid of men, and only feels safe around women. his master tries to marry him off when he's fourteen and this is one of the inciting incidents of him snapping and killing everyone! can you read this as "he was, as we see onscreen, being physically abused by qiu jianluo, a man, who didn't physically hurt him when he was around qiu haitang, a girl"? sure, i guess. it's not definitive. but....again, they tried to marry him off when he was 14 and unable to say no; even if it didn't happen, that is enough for me to say that the threat of shen jiu being forced into sexual relationships is present in the QJL-SJ relationship. much like OPM and LBH, it's...certainly extremely suggestive, even if it's not onscreened, especially when paired with the novel's overall themes. i'd also like to draw attention to the following quote:

“Gege, he’s so much fun! No wonder you purchased him even though you’ve always hated bringing in outsiders. I rather like him.” Young Master Qiu smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I too like him very much.” Upon hearing the word “like,” Shen Jiu couldn’t help but shiver.

(there's also something to say about his relationship with how he's iirc somewhat afraid of men even before the Qiu family buys him, and how his position as a slave begging on the street was also a very high-risk one, and about how his relationship with Wu Yanshi is clearly pretty predatory on Wu Yanshi's part + Shen Jiu at that point has no other support system, but that's more speculative; and there's a quote that i think fits better with the point i make in the next part but which provides additional support for shen jiu as having been raped.)

@regicidal-optimism also drew my attention to another very specific word choice that i'm not sure if i'm reading too much into--

Having witnessed the incident in its entirety, Shen Qingqiu was stunned. Such a brutal first time!

and...this is about SJ's first time killing someone. but "a brutal first time" without specifying is...well, it's a very, very specific wording choice, which is (IMO) clearly evocative of the way people discuss sex.

bing-ge

man i have enough to say about bing-ge (mostly wrt svsss's themes of gender) that it could really be its own full post BUT most of that would be a ~tangent. i'm pretty sure "bing-ge is a violent serial rapist" is, like, uncontroversial and i don't need to get textual evidence there, but for exactly that reason i didn't want to fully leave him out of discussion about sexual violence? so instead in this section i mostly want to draw attention to something that @wolffyluna pointed out to me last month, which is a section from book 1:

The girl thought, “Since I’m about to die, I must leave behind some memories to ensure that my life won’t have been in vain. I don’t have many days left, after all, so I won’t suppress my feelings anymore.” Then, using her weak and fragile body, she pushed Luo Binghe down. Luo Binghe put up a brief show of resistance before telling himself “She did it all for my sake. I don’t have the heart to reject her final wish.” He yielded, still half-reluctant, and went along with it…

this is...not framed by Shen Yuan, or presumably by PIDW, as rape. but it is at the very least dubcon, and it's most likely rape. resisting someone who is pushing you down and trying to have sex with you before yielding, "still half-reluctant", is not. good consent. that's sexual coercion and assault at the very least. but because he's a man--the epitome of masculinity, even! the great stallion novel protagonist, bing-ge!--this is framed as him progressing, as him gaining a wife. which is...really, really horrifying, and once again Says Some Things about how Shen Yuan sees gender. i also recommend these posts which were linked to me today by @rooses40stepskincareroutine about bing-ge and sexual violence!

gender

this is another short section but: something i noticed while writing this up is that the primary unambiguous case of sexual abuse (other than, well, bingqiu, but bingqiu is more complicated for other reasons) is that of old palace master and su xiyan; and that, at the end, when a crowd is decrying su xiyan (for, in large part, having been abused by old palace master), misogyny is a major part of it, and (for obvious reasons) his attempt to coerce her into an abortion bc her child is by someone he sees as a romantic rival is ... a very historically female sort of abuse to experience. given how deliberate mxtx is with gender/feminization and its ties to sexual abuse in svsss, and on a less positive note how few female characters she has, i think the choice to make the one "this character was, unambiguously and repeatedly, molested/raped/sexually abused" a woman who is then subject to sexist victim blaming and entitlement to her body is probably a deliberate one.

[simp2537]

SCYLLA

A/n: I’m finally done with this chapter, I’m super happy with it. I am announcing that I will be doing a Sleeping beauty AU with this series later after I’ve finished it. I hope you all enjoy!!!

Word Count: 2.348k

Trigger Warning: Religious themes, gore, murder, violence, suicidal thoughts, alcoholism, demons, blood,  self hatred, cannibal tendencies in flashbacks, child neglect, ptsd, self neglect, imprisonment, torture, consumption of other demons,  more warnings to follow

CHAPTER TWO

“You are a plague on this world.” He slowly circled Y/n, his ruby eyes staring down at her. The girl panted as she held onto her twin daggers.

Her upper cheek was cut, the blackened blood dripped down her. Her body was dripping in sweat. Her shoulders sagged as he continued to attack her.

“You are the famine that has killed hundreds.” His words echoed with each of his blows to her body. She lurched forwards, coughing violently as her knees his the sand.

Her head shook hazily as she knelt in the ground. His large hand cupped her cheek, pulling her face to his.

“You are the death and destruction of this world.” His nails dug into her skin as tears began to streaming down her face.

His eyes bore down at her as she panted. Her face a mess of tears, snot and sweat. “You are the Great Scylla, doom of this world!”

“…. No.”

“No?” His tone mocked her. He mocked her. His pulled her closer, his body bent over so she could see his face.

“Then what are you?” She brought her dagger into his arm and he pulled away. On shaky legs she stood, her face full of tears.

“I’m a witch.” His pale lip curled up as he pull the dagger from his arm. He threw back at great speed. Y/n’s hand flew up, grabbing around the blade of the knife.

It stung as her blood covered the knife. Then again he attacked. Again and again he ask, “What are you.” 

Again and again she repeated, “I’m a witch.”

Till she didn’t.

………………………………

Her body shot forward in her bed as her hands flew to her throat. Her nails clawed as her throat as she gasped for air. The dark walls of the room seemed to close in on her as she gasp.

Her nails bit into her skin leaving red lines. Her eyes darted around her room frantically. 

“Y/n!”

“What’s wrong!” Both ghost fazed into the room quickly approaching her bed. Charles placed his arm around her as she panted.

Edwin hesitantly placed his hand over hers, pulling them away from her throat. Her neck was red and a few small cuts covered her. 

There touch felt strange, like small tickles upon her skin.  She couldn’t really feel them but she could in a way. She felt them in her heart and her mind. She breathed out shakily as she tried to calm herself.

“Breathe mate, breathe.” Charles whispered to her softly. Her breathing remained strained as she panted.  She laid her head on his shoulder, her eyes glued shut.

“What was it about this time mate?” The tears continued to stream down her face as she sniffled. 

“Same old, same old.” She mumbled mindless as she felt Edwin’s thumb against her hand. She didn’t see the look the two boys shared. She didn’t see the way Charles looked down at her. Y/n was an enduring mystery to them. 

Sometimes she would speak on tiny things about her life before hell. The two boys could make a list of what they knew about her. In fact Edwin did have a list. 

Y/n’s mother was a witch named Melania, and she was raised in a small village outside of Salem called Widows Wailson

Y/n was extremely powerful in blood magic’s and the darker forces

Y/n had been trapped in hell for at least 300 hundred years?

Y/n was neither a sacrifice nor an evil soul, so how she ended up in hell was a mystery

Y/n often spoke of brothers, specifically her youngest brother who they only knew by the alias “little wolf”

Y/n was immortal, she would remain 16 years old for the rest of her existence. 

It was an odd list of things that they believed to be true. Y/n had never once mentioned her father, it was safe to assume he didn’t exist to her. The running theory between the boys was that Y/n and her mother had been hunted during the Salem witch trials and that somehow she ended up immortal and  in hell.

Much to Edwin’s annoyance it wasn’t a strong theory. Y/n didn’t like to speak about her past. There was so much about Y/n that didn’t add up. Y/n was not dead which was very obvious, but she’d been in hell.

Charles gently rubbed at her back as the lights from outside flickered into her bedroom. Her room was rather cluttered with magical objects, potion ingredients and other strange things. 

She was the only one with an actual bedroom. Both boys had their own rooms but no beds. They didn’t have a need for them like Y/n did. It was also nice that Y/n paid for there entire apartment with money they didn’t know how she had.

The window creaked as her red light opened  it slightly. The cold breeze drifted into the room. She sighed deeply as she closed her eyes once more. As she laid back down the two lay laid in either side of her.

“Do you guy think who were told we are and who we hope we are two very different things?” The two boys paused unsure how to answer. 

“Yes… I do believe who we’re told we are and who we are, are different. Sure sometimes the two images are blurred but at the end of the day we are not what others believe us to be.” Edwin answered softly. 

……………………………………

Pizza had to be one of the greatest inventions. As she sat on the edge of Edwin’s desk with an entire box of cheese pizza in her lap she knew the food in this age was much better than anything she’d ever had before.

She happily ate her food as she watched Charles circled Edwin with boxing mits up. His physique wasn’t prime to chasing away hostile ghosts.

“Come on, why are you so stiff? Loosen up. Come on.” Edwin could only groan at Charles words. She happily finished her first slice of pizza as Charles practically danced around.

“Come on, Edwin. I picked this just for you, mate. Boxing's a gentleman's sport, innit?” Edwin rolls, his face full of annoyance.

“When will I have to hit someone? I've been dead since 1916.” Edwin answers snippily. Y/n giggled softly as she waved her hand. The windows cracked open allowing a fresh breeze to enter. 

The boys didn’t feel the cold anymore, or extreme amounts of heat. She did though. She stared down at the pizza in her lap, she finished another slice. It was strange to her, to not be so hungry anymore. 

Life before was rough, the others in the village didn’t like her and her mother. They wouldn’t always trade crops with her family. She wasn’t used to having such an abundance of food.

It made her feel a little guilty. Her and her mother never had this. Yet now as her mother rotted she had so much. 

“Look I've been your best mate for 30 years, so I know you don't like to try new things, but it would make me feel a lot better if one of these decades you did learn to defend yourself.” Charles uttered. Her head snapped up as she watched Edwin attempt to box. 

“What am I then? A cockroach?” Edwin hit Charles hands rather gently.

“Noah mate, you’ve done great in being a bodyguard. Gave a good snaking to those wraiths in 07.” Charles laughed. Her head mocking lowered as she ripped a piece of her food off in her mouth. 

A loud buzz exhorted through the office. The trio shared a look as Y/n hopped down from the desk. She placed her pizza on a side table or and cleaned her hands.

“New case time boys.”

…………….

“Right, then. I’m Edwin Payne. This is Charles Rowland, and she is Y/n Adrienne. As you no doubt know,we are the Dead Boy Detective Agency.” Edwin told the young blonde girl ghost before them. 

Edwin sat in the chair of the desk with Charles and Y/n sat atop the desk on his right and left. 

“He’s the brains, I’m the brawn and she our power. Getting things done.” Charles answered with a smile. The young dead Victorian girl furrowed her brows.

“You are the brawn?” She asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. Why’d you say it like that?” Charles asked. Y/n giggled softly at the girl.

“No reason.” She insisted. The trio shared a quick look. The girl named Emma slowly place the picture in the desk.

“I would like you to help my friend Crystal. She’s a psychic you see.”  Slowly Y/n reach and took the picture. She slowly handed it to Edwin with a small smile.

“A medium. So she can see me even though I’m a ghost. But lately, something has been odd.” The trio stared at the picture of Crystal. She had curly brown hair, dark eyes and chocolate colored skin. Y/n smiled softly at her picture. 

“How do you mean “odd?”” Edwin asked handed the photo back to Y/n. She quickly pocketed it as a feeling of unease got her. Her heart sank into her stomach. Like a stone hitting water it sunk.

She slowly turned her head out the window. It was like she could feel a pair of hatful eyes upon her. The hairs on her skin shot up, her body itched to move. 

“Y/n are you listening.” She turned her gaze to Edwin quickly. 

“Course I am.” She uttered softly. She hadn’t noticed that she’d moved from the desk. She shuffled, leaning against Edwin’s chair.

“Yes, well we need to discuss payment. We sometimes do pro bone work but in this instance,” Edwin’s words were cute off by Emma.

“Oh, but I'm just a young child trying desperately to help my new friend. How ever will I afford it?” Y/n laughed loudly at the girl as she leaned further into Edwin’s chair. Charles smirked softly as he stood to Edwin’s right. Edwin waved his hand slightly.

“Emma Your hairstyle and Victorian coin purse point to your death in the late 1800s. Meaning you're older than us, supernaturally speaking.” Y/n turned her head slightly. 

Something was eating at her. There were eyes upon her. From every angle she could feel them. She did not like it.

“You've had plenty of time to learn how to exist as a ghost. You also have a knowledge of the arcane, as demonstrated

by the glowing magical squid as a pet. So...”  Y/n turns her attention back to them again. Charles looked at her, his eyes having a hint of confusion.

“I suspect you have the means to pay.” Charles smiled widened at Edwin’s words. 

“Next time you want to pull the helpless child act, maybe leave the magic squid at home, love.” Y/n said with a small smile, her sharp canines showing slightly.

“Fine, you twats. How much?” Emma asked. The trio exchanged smirks.

The dead boy and witch detectives had a new case. 

…………………..

Y/n held into the bars as the train began to move again. She’d pulled most of her hair back and out of her face. Demons were messy, not easily subdued. 

It was just her lucky demons seemed to be a special skill set of hers. 

Charles and Edwin moved first. Grasping onto Crystal and drawing the rune. Y/n knelt by Edwin’s side as he finished the rune and Charles’s was sent flying. 

She knelt on the ground as Crystal stuck to the floor growling. Red started to encase the struggling girl as Y/n moved her hands slightly. Slowly her eyes shifted into the color of blood as the train began to spin.

Y/n’s feet remained firmly planted on the ground as the boys fell and spun around. From the hole on the trian fell out ugly stinky wet fish. Y/m scrunched her face in disgust at the smell. 

“The fish are washing away the runes!” Edwin yelled. With a wave of her hand the fish went flying away, hitting the windows as while flowers. Charles wu ily threw the white blanket with the runes drawn into it into Crystal.

As the train began to shift again Y/n held both boys in the air. Her magic encase them in a warm embrace, like a tight hug of red. She slowly lowered them next to her side with a small smile on her face.

As they all knelt down the blanket shot up, running out of the train. Crystal’s body shot up, fear and confusion laced in her face.

“It’s okay. It’s all right now, innit.” Charles said attempting to calm her. 

“Your names Crystal right.” Y/n asked gently. She moved closer to the trembling girl helping her sit up properly. Demon possessions were always traumatic, in many ways.

“Yeah. Crystal Palace,” She paused at a loss for words. “Something… there’s uh… theres more to my name.” She stuttered. Y/n held onto her shoulders gently as she tried to speak. Her words would not form coherently.

“Oh, my god. Why can’t I remember?” She gasped leaning forwards as if to throw up. 

“Probably a temporary side effect of the demonic possession. It will pass.” Edwin said softly. Y/n shock her head softly, most demon possessions didn’t result in a loss of memories. Sure the memories could become foggy but not truly lost.

Upon seeing the look on Y/n’s face Charles perked up, “You can stay at ours for a few days, until things come back to you.” Edwin cast Charles a sharp look.

“Usually not part of our services. We're the Dead Boy and Witch Detectives. We rescued you. You’re welcome.” Edwin said with a slight nod. Y/n softly rubbed her hands against Crystal’s arms.

“The Dead Boy and Witch Detectives?” She whispered faintly.

“It's aces, right? We're ghosts, she’s a witch and we solve mysteries.” Charles answered.

Crystal nodded, her face looking sickly. 

“Oh, yeah. Ghosts. Witch. Got it. It's just a stupid fucking name.” The trio shared a sharp look. Y/n frowned, she thought the name was kinda clever.