#he had no idea how much time i could waste in the face of mortal dread

[bright-eyed]

I know marcus aurelius said we should remember that we are going to die so that we will use our time on earth wisely, but, personally, thinking about the inevitability and possible untimeliness of my own death every time i open my eyes upon waking, then sporadically throughout the day, and then also as i lay my head down to rest has been, let’s just say, not great for me

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader.

dean had been feeling down for quite some time now. he was quieter than usual, his snarky and teasing comments basically being reduced to zero. he was like a shadow of himself, closing up in his routine.

wake up. coffee. hunting. booze. go to sleep. repeat.

and it was like that over and over again.

like he was dead inside.

you knew he was hurting — as an angel, you could sense those things even though you weren’t sure what they meant exactly. but you were pretty sensitive to them, especially when it was dean who was experiencing such mental turmoil. it was breaking your heart even though it was literally impossible. you were an angel, a celestial being too powerful for a mortal to wrap their head around it.

yet you were sad when your favourite human was suffering.

it didn’t suit him. and you didn’t understand why he had to go through so much. in your eyes, he was just this precious human who was dealing with all your questions and things you were curious about. he was there for you. and you wanted to be there for him.

which is why you decided to cheer him up a little. you wished you could take all his pain away, double it and give it to the next person (coughs john winchester), but (unfortunately), as an angel, you couldn’t hurt other people. that wouldn’t be good. and you didn’t want to deal with that right now — dean was your main priority.

so you were limited to doing what you did best — healing troubled souls.

however, you weren’t exactly sure how to approach him. he didn’t want you using your powers on him — he thought it was a waste of time, and he didn’t like supernatural forces messing with him in general. even if they were coming from his little birdie. he had some limits.

that’s how you were back at the starting point, sitting in the war room and silently debating what to do.

you tapped your fingers on the table, your lips pursed out as you hummed some song you overheard playing on the radio while returning from a hunt with dean. you learned to love car drivers, especially the late–night ones, with music faintly playing in the back, as you admired the sky and all the stars. dean showed you so many amazing things about humans and their customs. and you just wished you could bring something into his life as well.

you even debated recreating some scenes from his favourite movies. cas told you about them, but you weren’t sure why would dean have to become a pizza man all of a sudden. so that idea was also put in a dumpster.

you couldn’t figure out a single thing you could do for him. with a groan of frustration, you stood up and headed to his room to simply ask what he’d want you to do to make him feel better. that was probably the best idea. he, for sure, must’ve wanted something.

in a blink of an eye, you arrived at his door. you barged in without knocking, as always, and looked around the room. and then, your heart just broke. dean was lying in his bed, his hand draped over his face as he just lay there. you didn’t know for how long he’d been like that, and you noticed that he was still in the same clothes that he’d been wearing three days ago.

yeah, it was bad.

“deano? what are you doing?” you asked softly, nudging his shoulder with your finger. he just sighed and looked at you with those tired, green eyes.

“not now, birdie. just go,” he said, pushing you away. but you didn’t budge, not even a little.

“no. you look like shit. i can’t let you be like that,” as always, you were being a little too straightforward.

“thank you. that’s exactly what i needed to hear, pigeon. i’m being serious, just leave me alone,” his voice grew stern. but you didn’t care. you weren’t about to give up.

“hey, i did that. i left you alone this past week, just like you asked. but enough of that. you went past your limit,” you huffed and basically lifted him from the bed as if he weighed nothing.

at this point, dean didn’t even try to protest. you were an angel. you’d most certainly beat his ass if he started a fight — you wouldn’t tho — you were too sweet for your own good.

yeah, you were doing a good job proving to him that not all angels were assholes. you were his little birdie, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world. however, he knew damn well that you deserved better than him. you deserved someone on your level, someone who’d be good for you — not an old, washed-up hunter with trauma and plenty of issues. he’d just corrupt you. and that was the last thing he ever wanted. you were supposed to stay his sweet angel forever.

you dragged dean to the bathroom and sat him down in the bathtub. you ordered him to take his clothes off, and when he did that, albeit begrudgingly, you filled the tub with warm water.

dean visibly relaxed and closed his eyes, just winding off the pressure he felt on his shoulders those last few days. however, he opened one eye as soon as he felt your fingers treading through his hair, washing it for him.

“darlin’, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, a small smile slowly appearing on his face.

“shush. i’m washing your hair. i think,” you mumbled, biting on your tongue as you tried to wash his hair. he did that for you plenty of times, and you tried your best to repeat those movements for him.

dean chuckled lightly but didn’t say anything. yeah, you were putting a little too much pressure on his head and shoving it from one side to the other — but he didn’t have it in him to correct you. you were too much of a sweetheart, and he knew you were trying your best. so, he’d let that slide.

as you massaged his scalp, he reached for his razor, planning to shave off the scruff on his face. but you were faster and slapped his hand away with a huff.

“huh?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“no. leave that. it looks better that way,” you said matter-of-factly.

and in this exact moment, that characteristic smile of his came up on his lips. he chuckled and ran his fingers through his scruffy cheek.

“you just say that 'cause you love how it scratches your thighs,” he muttered lowly, leaning back with a cocky smirk as he obeyed your order.

and you just blushed heavily, clearing your throat.

oh, he knew damn well you absolutely loved the carpet burn.

a/n: sooo surprise!!! it’s not totally emo lol

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell

[argetcross]

Happy 4th anniversary to wasting beats of this heart of mine, my Zagreus becomes mortal AU! Another year, some more adventures undertaken.

This year, I've unearthed more concepts and half-finished paintings all the way from 2021. I've included notes under the cut about each piece, as well as more reflections.

If you told me in October 2020 that you'll write a fic over 100k words long, spanning multiple cities, with multiple POVs, I would have said, "Are you sure?". I think I never really imagined I could keep a story running, much less one that demands so much of its author. At the same time, this work has been my deepest and most fulfilling pleasure. It lives in my dreams, haunts my waking moments, and demands I regularly carve my heart out and poke through the viscera. I suppose such is the nature of art.

We've been approaching the end of Part III, and readers up-to-date know I've mentioned planning for five parts in total. Five acts, five biomes: it only feels fitting. Many things I had looked forward to (the chariot race! Kyane and Persephone! The return of Thymoetes!) have come to life on the page, but there's still so much of the yarn left to spin. I never expected needing years to complete this story, but I also feel strongly I am beholden to it now. To Zagreus, to Demeter's children, to the mortals and gods, above and below. I will continue to try my best.

Thank you to jules, val, nan, robin, and spleen for having beta'd for me during these years. This story wouldn't be what it is without you. Thank you to mag, for having crawled through the trenches of creating an enormous fanwork and countless hours of spreadsheeting, with me. To every artist that has ever drawn me anything, it is truly humbling to be able to inspire your work. To the House Party, whose friendship I am grateful for every day.

And to anyone who has ever read part of the story, left a comment, and stepped along on this journey with me, I cannot overstate how grateful I am. I remain baffled and pleasantly surprised that this world of mine can touch your heart. It's a story that I hope, when it completes, you will pick up again from time to time, and take pleasure in its telling once more.

With all my love,

Arget

--

Notes about each image:

Thanatos and Zagreus by the sacred olive trees of Athena. This painting was based on a photo I took in Athens. The quality of the sunlight astounded me and, in turn, made me think about life and death.

Thanatos anointing the body of the god Zagreus with nectar. This is related to the scene in Chapter 23, when he and Nyx converse by Zagreus' bedside.

Eleusis concepts. For such a powerhouse of a cult, Eleusis itself has a provincial feeling to it. I was captivated by the idea of the sea, and the fact that Zagreus had never spent any time on the coast. This would have been his first experience with it.

Athens. What can I say about Athens that hasn't been said? The trip I took late 2022 provided a lot of the inspiration for the citadel aspect of the acropolis. This is not the Athens of Classical Greece, the polis of democracy, but a fictionalized city-kingdom, under the rule of its royal family. The idea that Callisto had a student living in Athens was both a nod to the extensive trade happening during the Bronze Age and a deconstruction of the Amazon myth that the Greeks told themselves.

Clymene, the Oracle of Delphi. This was originally meant to be a Hades game-like portrait, but I scrapped the idea. She is dressed in the fashion closer to the Minoans, to give her a more Bronze Age feeling. As the head priestess, I wanted to show her age.

Apheidas and Thymoetes sketches. The two brothers are supposed to look night and day from each other. I tried to give Apheidas a pleasant sort of face, in comparison to Thymoetes' haughtiness.

The tapestry sketch. This was one of the first drawings I ever made about wasting beats, in an attempt to understand the type of story I was about to write. Key elements had already been decided, such as the chariot race and the way Demeter and Hades would play the role of the absent gods, for above as well as below. I had not written Apollo at this time, so you see him here with short hair.

Zagreus, reaching for a bloodstone. The chlamys, a gift from his foster-father's wife, has been the simple denotation of mortal Zagreus. Something bright and red, simple for it was woven by a farmer's wife, and barely able to protect his weaker mortal body.

Megaera, hurt and angry, and Than, stricken and alarmed, amidst a storm of paper. This is a scene from Chapter 18, Primordial Winter, that I had always wanted to illustrate.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Truth or Dare

Loki x Y/N

Y/N and Loki play together

Requests Open - See blog!

Warnings: none, but Loki in this a warning itself..

“Come onnnn, it'll be fun!” Y/N's voice was a persistent whine, bordering on playful mischief, as she pestered Loki for the umpteenth time. Her eyes sparkled with the kind of infectious enthusiasm that Loki found irritating—and, perhaps secretly, a bit charming.

She had been insisting for hours that they play Truth or Dare, a game she claimed was an essential part of Midgardian culture, but one that Loki found particularly banal. After all, how could a game played by mere mortals ever hold any value for a God of Mischief?

"Not only are your Midgard games dull," Loki retorted, his deep, velvety voice holding a trace of disdain, "but they are incredibly repetitive. I refuse to lower myself to such pedestrian frivolity." He crossed his arms over his chest, emphasizing his refusal with a firm tone, the very picture of regal disinterest.

Y/N, however, remained unfazed. Her persistence was unyielding, as if she could see through his mask of indifference. She gave him a pleading look, her eyes wide and imploring, like a child on the verge of a tantrum. "Please? Just one game?" She stretched the words out dramatically, her voice lilting in a way she knew he couldn’t ignore. “I’ll stop bugging you…”

Loki let out an exaggerated huff, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had faced far greater trials in his long life—battles, betrayals, even near-death experiences—yet the persistence of a mortal girl seemed more vexing than any of them. But perhaps, he mused, indulging her just this once would get her to cease her annoying chatter. Surely one game wouldn’t be too much of a compromise.

"...Fine," he muttered, his voice dripping with reluctant resignation. “One game."

Y/N’s face lit up instantly, her grin spreading wide across her face like a child unwrapping a long-awaited gift. She nearly bounced from her seat in excitement, her hands clapping together with an impish giggle. Without a second thought, she scooted closer to him on the couch, her knee brushing against his. She looked up at him with an almost dog-like eagerness, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” Loki’s voice was dry, and he tried to layer his words with as much disinterest as possible. But Y/N could tell—there was a flicker of intrigue beneath his aloof exterior.

“Okay, so it’s simple,” she explained, her hands gesturing as if she were explaining a grand, ancient ritual. “One of us will ask the other Truth or Dare. If the other chooses truth, you can ask them anything, and they have to answer honestly. If they choose dare, they have to do whatever you tell them.”

Loki’s eyes rolled in exasperation, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Primitive, he thought to himself. Mortals and their childish amusements.

"Right. I'll go first," Y/N declared, not wasting a second. She leaned forward, practically vibrating with energy. "Ask me!"

Loki sighed, rolling his head back slightly as if this entire ordeal were the greatest burden in existence. He supposed he could amuse her for a moment, if only to hasten the game's end.

“Truth or dare?” His voice was smooth and even, his disinterest more than apparent.

“Truth.” Her answer was quick and confident.

Loki narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking deeply. If he was going to play this ridiculous game, he might as well make the most of it. There was something to be gained here—a little insight, a little fun. His eyes glinted with an idea.

“Alright. Whom do you prefer: me or Thor?” He asked the question with casual arrogance, already knowing the answer, but curious nonetheless.

Y/N didn’t even hesitate. “You,” she said, her voice filled with certainty.

Loki’s brow raised, an almost feline smirk creeping onto his lips. “And why is that?” His curiosity was piqued, though his tone remained casual, feigning indifference.

Y/N grinned but didn’t fall for the bait. “It’s not my go anymore. Truth or dare?” Her eyes sparkled with challenge.

“Hm… I suppose I’ll pick the dare,” Loki replied, intrigued by what she would come up with. Surely nothing she could propose would be difficult for a God of Mischief.

Y/N’s mind worked quickly, a wicked grin spreading across her face. Her eyes danced with mischief as she leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “I dare you to say something in Asgardian.”

Loki blinked, slightly taken aback. Of all the dares she could have chosen, this was so... simple. He almost felt insulted. “Like what?” His voice was laced with boredom.

“Just something,” she pressed, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Loki grumbled, but complied, his voice sliding smoothly into his native tongue, the Asgardian words sounding like silk on air. “Du er altfor pen til å delta i en aktivitet så kjedelig.”

The words flowed effortlessly, the language rich and elegant, and for a moment, even he appreciated the beauty of it. Y/N’s eyes widened, mesmerized by the sound, even though she had no idea what he had said.

“What does it mean?” she asked, her voice soft and curious.

Loki’s smirk returned, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “It’s not my turn anymore. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Her response came quickly, and there was a hint of intrigue behind her voice.

Loki’s smirk deepened, sensing an opportunity. “I dare you to reveal why you prefer me over my brother.”

Y/N blinked, surprised at how easily he had turned the tables. Clever, as always. She bit her lip, her voice faltering slightly as she responded. “I like Thor, don’t get me wrong. But you’re… more interesting.”

There was something in her voice, something she wasn’t saying. Loki noticed, of course, and his smirk grew wider.

“More interesting, you say?” Loki preened, leaning back slightly in his seat, clearly satisfied. “That is true. I always was the more exciting brother. Truth.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, thinking of a question, and then, in a quieter voice than usual, asked, “Why do you put up with me?”

Loki’s brow furrowed, and for the first time since the game began, he looked genuinely curious. “Excuse me?” He leaned forward slightly, his emerald eyes narrowing.

“I mean, I know I can be annoying,” Y/N continued, her voice soft, her gaze avoiding his. “Most people can’t tolerate me for this long. Why do you stick around?”

Loki sighed, but there was a warmth in it, as if he were letting down his guard just a fraction. “Three reasons, darling. One, you are not irritating—your spirited nature is something most mortals are too dim to appreciate. Two, you are enjoyable company, and few people in this realm or any other can claim that honor. And three...” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering, the air between them thickening. “I’m a god. It takes more than a lively mortal to crack my patience.”

Y/N felt her heart flutter at his words, a warmth spreading in her chest that she couldn’t ignore. The affection in his voice, veiled behind his usual arrogance, was enough to leave her speechless for a moment.

“Truth or dare,” Loki said, breaking the silence.

“Truth,” Y/N whispered, still trying to recover from the feeling his words had ignited.

Loki’s eyes darkened with mischief as he leaned even closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. “Are you attracted to me, dear? Does my voice make you tremble? Do you feel your heart quicken when I am near?”

Y/N’s breath hitched. Her heart was pounding, and she knew he could hear it.

“That’s three questions...” she managed to whisper, trying to deflect.

Loki’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming. “One question with sub-questions, love. And I suspect the answer to all three is the same.”

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t deny it. “You would be correct,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Loki chuckled softly, the sound low and throaty. It sent shivers down her spine. “I thought as much. You don’t hide your emotions well, darling. Your skin turns the most delightful shade of scarlet whenever I touch you.”

Y/N’s face flushed even more at his teasing, and she quickly tried to regain control. “Truth or dare,” she said, her voice wavering slightly as she attempted to shift the focus away from herself.

Loki’s eyes gleamed, his smirk never fading. “Dare.”

The air between them seemed to grow heavy, and Y/N took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. Her voice came out soft but determined. “I dare you to kiss me.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Loki’s eyes widened ever so slightly, his smirk faltering for the briefest of moments. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in closer, his gaze locking with hers. The space between them seemed to shrink until there was nothing left but the anticipation hanging in the air.

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @miya-akane request: okay I'll request for the last tine-

How about Xiao, Chongyun, Freminet and Albedo (my top 4 in genshin<3) with s/o that kins Akito and/or Ena? Like they tend to comparw themself with others and felt like they're not good enough ? Also they have a bit anger issues perhaps? In conclusion they're somehow like akito. (My akito and ena kinnie ass need to)

That's all! Don't overworked yourself and always remember to stay hydrated bee~

-🌹

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yess! Omg this one was actually great idea! I tried looking at Akito more though I guess they're so similiar it didn't made difference hah And no worries, I'm taking care of myself, but I hope you do as well miya!

Anyway, I know I took my time with this one but I hope you'll like it in the end!

Short boys supermercy forever and ever, I love writing for them sm I swear

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

✧ Albedo almost never let's emotions carry him so you could tell he's always the one calming you down when needed

✧ but he does understand that you need to let the negative emotions out, so first thing he does is getting your emotions out on paper

✧ he'll let you all his painting equipment and won't even mind if you damage the canva in the process

✧ as for you comparing yourself to others, he starts noticing you daydreaming and will sometimes make remark for you to not worry about it

✧ he's rather reassuring type so whenever you try comparing yourself out loud, he'll stop whatever he's doing just to hold your hands gently and remind you of all your values

"Don't call yourself like that. You're the most skillful person in this field I know. And believe me when I say I don't just throw words on wind."

✧ and of course, there's also your tsundere behavior which often leaves him chuckling quietly at how you're trying to hide your affection

✧ he's not necessarily the teasing type but he can't stop but naje you clarify what you want just to see that little blush on your face

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @miya-akane - come get your chalk alchemist!

✧ as Xiao can be a bit of a tsundere sometimes as well, he doesn't really have problems with anger

✧ he'd sometimes be the type to put his hand on your shoulder and reassure you there's no need to waste your energy on something like that

✧ but sometimes... he'll let you. It all depends of the situation you found yourself in

"They said what to you...? I'll go fight them instead, you shouldn't risk any danger. Especially when I'm around."

✧ something he can't understand tho is you constantly comparing yourself to others. He saw many mortals do it and yet he still doesn't understand why you're comparing yourself to someone with much more experience

✧ he's gonna be rather blunt with it and just tell you it's not logical at all to compare yourself who just started with something to someone who's been devoted to this genre for few years already!

✧ but if your topic ever goes to not being enough of a lover, he'll try to break his tsundere barrier and tell you all the things he loves you for

✧ in the end, he ends up being a blushing mess when you have a bit of breakdown, assuring you that he means every word he says

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @miya-akane - come get your tsundere adepti~

✧ Chongyun is on rather calmer side and his bursts are usually one of annoyence rather than pure rage

✧ you were definitely the first person he met with such an anger issues so he had hard time getting used, but once he does, he doesn't mind that much

✧ he will try dragging you aside whenever you get angry at someone and offer for you to take your anger out on him or on any object he doesn't care about instead

"Take it out on me. You can imagine I'm them and just tell me anything you want. I won't get upset, I'll only be happy if it helps."

✧ if you decline tho, he'll try to look for other ways since he doesn't want you to carry these emotions inside but he also doesn't want you taking it out on others

✧ as for your comparing, he won't tolerate that! he'll stop you and tell you all things he likes about you right in the face while holding your shoulders or hands and maintaining eye contact. He want's you to be sure you know he's being honest!

✧ though he might need a popsicle or two after such an interaction...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your popsicle boy!

✧ Freminet is rather quiet so he rarely bursts out, bur something you have in common would certainly be comparing yourselves to others...

✧ you're perfect in his eyes and he's perfect in yours, but that doesn't seem to stop you from putting yourselves down

✧ when he hears you talking badly about yourself, he'll immidietly tell you it's not true and try to tell you some compliments, but he get's shy quickly so it may end in many ways...

✧ he's also trying to help you calm down with your anger! First thing he thinks of that might help would be those anti stressing toys to squeeze!

✧ he'll buy you as many as you'd want, even if you keep breaking them. What matters to him is if they work

✧ if they don't, he'll do his best to find a good excuse and pull you away as he's doing his best to calm you down

"It's fine, it's fine... Breath with me. In... and out... That didn't help? Well uh..."

✧ and finally, there's your tsundere self! Your lovely interactions are certainly rare but they're somehow sweet, since you have to watch out to not say something discouraging to him or he might stop initiating affections...

✧ but don't worry, he'll learn your way of speaking sooner or later and it won't bother him as much anymore!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your shy diver~

[lichanicksstuff]

I just thought it would be hilarious if comic! Sandman characters would exist in the world where the show also exist. Imagine Hob inviting Dream for a movie marathon.

(There will be some comic spoilers, you've been warned).

In this universe, Dream met Neil Gaiman and inspired him to create a series like this, so nobody will ever know the truth about the Endless. It's pretty clever even for a Matthew's idea.

The thing is: Dream (Daniel; treat him like a second incarnation. Like with the Doctor, since Daniel has all of Dream's memories, powers, etc. But he is softer than Morpheus. It's simmilar to Doctor's incarnations - same person, a bit different personality) did not expect was his human friend to ask him to watch 6th episode together because it's an episode with both of them! Hob knows about the idea of "the sandman", since Dream visits him in his dreams once in a few months. When they first met in person it was very hard for Hob to explain to his girlfriend how his friend who was dead is now alive and well. That's how Daniel became a lost twin brother of "that friend" who Hob somehow knows because yes it makes perfect sense, and no, Hob isn't making this up (his girlfriend does NOT believe him, but she goes with it. She even gave Daniel a cup of tea, made in a kettle. Hob is so sensitive about it as a British guy). But today, his beautiful girlfriend was out with her friends so they could watch without her asking why is the character named just like him.

"It will be fun!" Hob said, sitting down on his couch and handing Dream over some popcorn. Dream knows, more or less, what he should be expecting because it was him who gave the ideas and was present (in the minds of the writers) during production. In the end, Dream agreed and they both started watching.

Hob was very suprised when he saw the actor who plays Morpheus. In some ways he does look very simmilar to the original incarnation but there's something more... human, about him. (Well, maybe because he's a human.) Dream's real face has some weird glow to it that makes him very memorable when he wants to be remembered but also easy to forget if he doesn't. And also his eyes are not normal. Two deep lakes reflecting a night sky. No pupils. Charming but also horrifying, if you ask Hob. Privately. In a dark room. When he's so wasted he would be dead if he could die.

But when he saw the guy who is him on the screen, he gasped.

"He's not ginger!" He yelled and Dream almost choked on his wine, "I'm telling you, mate, they have something to gingers in hollywood. Every bloody character who has red hair somewhere, doesn't have them in the show."

"Hob, you're a person, not a character." Dream corrected him like his friend wasn't just starting a monologue on the topic of red-haired people in movies and TV shows.

"He is pretty good-looking, though," Hob admitted after a longer minute of talking.

"Certainly looks better than you," Dream said and drunk his wine. Hob laughed and this ended the conversation for a moment.

They had been watching for like ten minutes, commenting the clothing, suited to a particular time when suddnely, at the 1789 scene Hob asked:

"Why are they eye-fucking each other the whole time?"

Dream looked at him with a sign of pure disbelief in his non-pupil eyes. Hob just shrugged asking a very impolite "what?" Which Dream decided to ignore.

But then at the 1889 scene, a situation that Hob still remembers and how scared he was he will be mortal from now on, Hob started yelling at the screen:

"Come on Hobbie, get your man!"

"Hob, this is supposed to be you."

"Well, I'm sorry I got invested." he said fussily.

In the end, Hob was very happy with the results of this episode, even if it wasn't really accurate. Dream, on the other hand, drank much more wine than he was planning to.

(And Matthew was laughing in crow the whole time.)

[artemis1214]

You need story ideas

How about your OC wins Alastor a stuffed platypus toy from a game at Lulu World Base on this picture. Bonus he gives the platypus the dumbest name you can think of.

Thank you so much for this idea! I'm sorry it took so long, but here it is. I hope you like it! 🥰

((Includes: Fluff, slight angst))

──── •✧• ────

“Lu Lu World?” Esme asks, her face twisting in confusion as her eyes dart between Charlie and Vaggie. Charlie nods excitedly and claps her hands, “Yes!” She exclaims, “My dad gave us all tickets to go, and do some special bonding!” Esme chuckles and tilts her head to the side, looking at Vaggie, “You too?” She asks, seeing Vaggie smirk and shrug in response. 

“This is a fucking waste of time…” Husk groans, pushing himself off the wall and heading towards the bar. Esme nods at his words, knowing full well that taking the entire group to such an extravagant place was most likely not going to be an easy task. “You are going, you all are going.” Vaggie says sternly, pointing at all of them. Alastor twirls his cane, barely listening to what the group is discussing. He looks down at his fingers and notices a ragged edge, narrowing his eyes and brushing it against his suit in an attempt to smooth it. 

“Now, vamanos!” Vaggie motions them all to the door, but none of them budge. Well, all except Nifty who is already at the exit jumping to reach the doorknob. Vaggie sighs in frustration when they don’t move, wielding her spear and using it to guide them to the door. 

“Good Lord, are we cattle?!” Esme shouts with her hands up and a roll of her eyes. 

~ Time Skippy ~ 

It had been several decades since Esme had been to an amusement park, but this was much different than what she recalled from her mortal life. The lights were beaming, demanding her attention everywhere she turned, and the noises were so chaotic that it was hard to focus. There were several carnival games lined up for the parkgoers, which caught the attention of Charlie, Angel, and Nifty. Charlie was interested in playing, Angel was interested in making it a competition, and Nifty….well Nifty was running behind the counter and swiping the prizes. 

Esme laughs and looks over to Alastor who is just standing there wiping the top of his cane with his sleeve. She leans over, “I don’t want to be here any more than you do…” She whispers, causing his sharp smile to drop to a knowing smirk. He turns his face to her, “Is it that obvious?” He hums, causing her to chuckle, “A tad, yes.” She links her arm with his as the two walk, several sinners tense up as they mosey on by, “I never get tired of watching them scatter~” Esme says in a low tone. She goes to open her mouth when -

“Es, c’mere!” 

Esme’s fins perk up at the sound of Angel’s voice who is calling her towards a water shooter game. She puts a hand up to Alastor and smiles softly as she unhooks her arm and walks over to him, “Yes, bambino?” He laughs, “I betcha can’t beat me at this one.” He scoffs playfully with a hand on his hip, leaning to the right. Esme’s head turns to the game and studies it carefully. She looks up to see the many prizes available, but none of them catch her interest, “This looks boring…too easy~” She smirks, pivoting to walk away. 

“Oh, c’mon!” Angel pouts, grabbing her arm and protesting. “I know you would want one of those little guys!” He motions to the stuffed animals and Esme's eyes look away in an unfazed gesture. She was never one for those little plushies, ever since….ever since her daughter’s room laid bare with just them scattered over the floor. 

“Some other time…” 

“Oh darling, come now…” Alastor pipes in, looking up at all the options, “You could absolutely win this little game. Why not try for that fellow over there?” He points up to a small platypus hanging on the wall. Esme raises an eyebrow and turns to look at him, looking up to see his eyes having budged from it, his ears twitching in curiosity.

My, how gender norms have changed. 

“Fine.” She sighs, walking with Angel to the little seats. She sits elegantly on the stool with her legs crossed, leaning forward and gripping onto the handles. She feels something drip on her hand, looks down to see red. “Is this blood?” She raises it to her mouth and licks it. 

O Positive to be exact. 

She laughs and grips onto the handles once more, “Perhaps I do like this game.” The buzzer goes off and Esme smirks, looking over to Angel’s controller and narrowing her eyes. The Siren’s eyes glow brightly as both his and the other sinner’s controllers cease their blast of liquid. Angel gasps and squeezes his controller tightly, “What the f-” He realizes and turns to Esme, “Cheater!” 

“I have no idea what you’re referring to…” She says with a smug chuckle as she keeps her hands steady on the controller, guiding the liquid with her mind to hit the target, making the bullseye rise to the top. 

A loud ding goes off and Esme is high-fived by the worker. 

“You snake!” Angel pouts. 

“I’m not a snake, I’m a siren…” Esme smirks, sticking her tongue out to him. She turns to the worker, “The platypus, please sir.” He hands her the stuffed creature and she walks back over to Alastor, seeing his smile stretching a smidge more than usual. 

“What a fine choice, my dear!” He beams. 

“Here.” She smiles sweetly, her eyes sparkling in satisfaction seeing him so enamored by the win. 

He clears his throat and straightens up, “It’s not mine, dearest…” He nervously adjusts his bowtie, obviously a little embarrassed to want such an adorable thing, but his eyes don’t leave it.

“Oooh of course not~” Esme giggles, knowingly, “But my hands are so tired after playing that little game, so why don’t you hold it for me, amore?” 

He takes it quickly, causing her smile to become a little brighter as the two walk through the park, Angel still complaining to the worker in the background for allowing Esme to cheat. 

As they walk, Alastor’s eyes stay glued to the platypus. All the while, Esme’s eyes stay fixed on his expression. “What should I name him?” She asks, her voice laced with amusement. 

“Him?” 

“He seems like a dapper fellow, don’t you think?” 

He smiles. Esme’s heart swoons knowing this is a sincere, genuine kind, not part of that phony mockery he has plastered all the time. “Albert?” He asks, “Alvin?” 

Esme laughs, “Alright Al, way to stroke your ego.” 

“An A suits him!” He protests. 

Esme smirks playfully. She pauses before, “Little Al…” She says with a chuckle, “Our child if you will, since ours is not here.” 

His grin closes to a soft closed mouth smile, a twinge of sadness but also affection, “Lovely.” 

The two keep walking, this time heading to the exit to start on the travel back home, their voices echoing in the distance. 

“Hey, he’s got your eyes….” 

“Esme…” 

“Haha, kidding, kidding…” 

──── •✧• ────

🖤Words: 1115 🖤

~ Artemis🦌💗

[delimeful]

the roots of something greener (1)

G/T July Day 9: Rainy Day

patreon prompt: kid logan trying to make a deal with fae janus for nyn! hope you enjoy :)

warnings: magical deals, threats, unwilling transformation, implied parental neglect, mentions of starvation and abandonment

-

The first time the child found him, Janus was already in a foul mood.

The day had started out with a light drizzle, and as the hours crept by, it had slowly grown into a far more irritating downpour.

This wouldn’t have been anything near a problem for most fae, and certainly a meager handful of years ago, Janus would have hardly spared it a fleeting thought. Even if he didn’t care to waste any magic on a simple repelling spell, he could have simply slipped between realms, abandoning that particular stretch of human land until the storm passed.

Now that he was banished and bound, however, his options were far more limited.

There would be no leaving the human realm, not until his time was served. His sentence wasn’t so harsh as to confine him to a single circle, but being able to jump between this and that ring of mushrooms didn’t help him much when the rainfall was present over the entire forest.

He grit his teeth as a stray drop managed to make it through the leaves above him, the thickest canopy he could find over one of his rings.

Though it was only a single raindrop, it drenched his head and shoulders with ease. His form in mortal realm was limited by the space he was allowed, and the only proper faery rings within these woods were barely large enough for a human to step a single foot into.

He wasn’t sure if only being able to manifest at the same size as a child’s doll was an intentional part of his punishment, or merely a bonus. Either way, it was certainly humiliating enough for him to resent it.

It was in this soaked, resentful mood that he heard the distinct pattern of human footsteps, leaves and other detritus crunching rhythmically underfoot.

“What curious timing,” he muttered irritatedly to himself, turning to face the intruder with a smile that was almost certainly a little too sharp for human tastes.

… And then promptly lowered his expectant gaze a foot or two, because the human approaching him was unquestionably a mere child.

Young, likely barely a decade old, and with the thickest, blockiest pair of spectacles Janus had seen in ages. While the child wasn’t dressed for the weather, he was carefully holding a deep blue umbrella over his head as he picked his way over the muddy forest floor.

The little thing froze for a moment at the sight of him, and for a moment Janus thought perhaps this was some unwise youth that had wandered off from his parents, with no idea what was before him.

Then, he straightened up formally, eyes glinting with excitement, and it became clear that the child knew exactly what Janus was, and likely thought he knew exactly what he was getting into, as well.

(Part of Janus was admittedly relieved. Being locked out of his home realm meant there was no easy defense against humans who stepped into the space of the ring, and he really wasn’t in the mood to dodge the grasping fingers of a toddler who thought him a toy.)

“Salutations,” the child greeted belatedly, quickly reaching up to adjust his rain-splattered glasses with his free hand. The umbrella drooped slightly without the support of both of those undersized arms. “I’m searching for the, um, the fair folk of this wood. I’d like to make a deal.”

How bold, to open with such an attention-grabbing phrase. Janus reclined back slightly, attempting to look regal even with his hair plastered in wet strands across his face. “Well, now. Isn’t it good manners to introduce yourself before making requests of strangers?”

The child’s face pinched slightly, but he’d clearly done at least some research. “You may call me Logic.”

Janus hummed. “Well met, Logic. I go by Deceit.”

“Deceit?” Logic echoed with a frown. “I thought fair folk weren’t able to lie.”

“They’re not,” Janus agreed pleasantly, some of his humor returning to him at the usage of a familiar bit.

For all his flaws, none of the humans he’d tricked over the years could claim they hadn’t been warned from the start.

“Then why,” Logic started, before shaking his head firmly, dismissing the line of questioning in favor of his original goal. Whatever had brought him here, it was clearly important to him.

It always was, when they were willing to make a deal for it.

“I’d like to make a deal,” he repeated, setting his shoulders and stiffening his posture. “I want to learn how to use magic.”

Janus refrained from letting the derisive edge sneak into his smile. “And what could you possibly have to offer in return for that?”

“I can offer you equal knowledge in exchange,” Logic responded, wearing a very serious expression that looked quite amusing on such a young face. “I may be young, but you’ll find that I’m very good at researching.”

The offer was exactly what he should have expected from a human child, especially one that had never dealt with the fae before. It was likely that his little research hobby was the only reason he’d learned enough to make it this far.

“My, you certainly have a lot of confidence in the value of knowledge, don’t you?” Janus mused, distantly glad that it was him that the child had chosen to annoy with this, rather than a more power-hungry sort. “Very well, I accept the terms of your deal.”

He held out a hand, and almost immediately regretted it. He’d forgotten how easily dwarfed he was, like this.

When Logic reached out, however, it was with a slow and careful hand, his face scrunched up intently as he used two fingers to emulate a handshake. There was no pinching pressure or crushing grip, only the distinct warmth of human contact and the slight electric spark of the deal being sealed.

It almost made Janus feel bad for what he was about to do.

“Your first lesson,” he announced, pulling his hand back and flexing his fingers absently, “is to never make such open-ended deals with fae.”

Logic recoiled slightly, looking slightly bewildered, and Janus forced his smile into something crueler as the sting of magic grew sharper.

“An offer of any knowledge I please, so long as it’s of equal value? You haven’t even clarified which kind of magic you’re so desperate to learn.” Janus leaned forward slightly, wrapping his hand around the invisible cord of the deal. “I could request your name, control over the very essence of your being, and all I would be required to do in exchange would be provide you with instruction on magic of suitable power. Your terms are exploitable, little one.”

He let the implied threat linger, watching as the implications sunk in and the child’s worry began to turn to fear. The sight of it was a sour curl in his gut, but this was a lesson better learned here and now, rather than later and with more permanent consequences.

“Of course, I have no particular desire to teach you any magic at all, let alone the complexities of magic strong enough to be equivalent to a name.” Janus slowly released all but the tiniest sliver of the potential the deal held. “Hm. I think a demonstration of simple magic will do, to satisfy both your curiosity and mine.”

Transformation spells were painful and slow when cast a certain way, a fact that many of his kin had taken advantage of when dealing with humans. Janus kept the magic brief and painless, because for all his flaws, enjoying the needless suffering of a child was not one of them.

With a snap of his fingers, the child’s form shifted to something more thematically appropriate.

The umbrella clattered to the ground, catching on the breeze and skittering a few feet away from the kitten that now sat on the ground before him, blinking in disorientation.

“Consider our bargain complete,” Janus informed the kid, finally able to speak to him at eye level. “As the last tidbit of magical knowledge I’ll impart, have this: recognition is the key to returning you to your true form.”

Looking as though he was composed of more fluff than flesh, Logic let out a tiny, confused meow. His eyes were surrounded by distinctive, blocky markings, the spitting image of the chunky square glasses that he wore as a human. It was the easiest possible condition Janus had ever set; it was near-impossible to look at the kitten and not see the resemblance.

With a flick of his hand, the kitten was whisked to the edge of the woods that he’d entered from, where there was surely a guardian nearby to find him and undo the minor curse before the sun had set.

With any luck, the experience would scare the kid off from any further attempts at playing with magic he didn’t understand.

Job done, Janus glanced at the abandoned umbrella, lying far out of reach of his undersized mushroom ring, and then turned away with a sigh.

What a waste.

–

Janus hadn’t been one to keep track of the time, before, but that may have simply been because time was much less linear in the faerie realm. The length between one moment and the next could be stretched or squashed, and so time tended to be more of a feeling than a fact.

In the human realm, things were much simpler. The sun rose and fell and rose again, and that was a day, every time without fail. He could hardly lose track of something like that.

As such, Janus knew that two full days had passed when he next saw Logic.

Logic, not the child, because he was still, inexplicably, in the form of that tiny, barely-weaned kitten.

It had been sheer luck that Janus spotted him; he’d been moving between one ring and the next throughout the day, absently looking for any stray detritus that had fallen close enough to his ring to be tugged fully inside. Any shelter made from such impermanent materials was destined to be temporary, but Janus was tired of the chill, and willing to take any reprieve from the elements he was offered.

Looking at the soggy little beast that was crouched a few meters away, Janus felt an odd sense of guilt crop up within him. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who had been enduring the weather.

Fur matted and damp from the on and off rain that had plagued the area, body trembling from cold or hunger or a combination of the two, Logic looked like the definition of pitiful.

And why wouldn’t he? For all intents and purposes, the child apparently spent the last couple of days trapped in an unfamiliar body and stuck in a hostile environment, with no aid to be found.

… Why hadn’t someone recognized him? For that matter, why weren’t there humans traipsing about through the trees in search of a missing child?

Logic sneezed miserably, interrupting what seemed to be an attempt to use his new, keener nose to track down a meal. His tiny ears angled back in a distinctly feline form of frustration, a gesture that would have undoubtedly been cuter if he hadn’t been so visibly on the brink of starving.

Well. Janus wouldn’t get his answers if he just left the child there, would he?

“I know you, child,” he said, voice carrying enough to make the kitten’s head snap around toward him. “I didn’t expect you to still be scurrying about like this. Why in the world would you not simply go home?”

Acknowledging his true form did the trick. The spell unraveled like he’d pulled on a loose thread in a knit blanket, the magic falling away with ease and leaving the child in his oversized spectacles sitting there in the dew-dappled grass.

For a moment, he remained like that, folded over on himself like a baby deer laying still and hoping that predators’ eyes would skip over him.

Janus met his gaze and raised a prompting eyebrow, waiting for an explanation on how such a simple curse had gone so wrong that the fae who laid it, of all people, had to be the one to free him from it.

In the next second, Logic had sprung to his feet and bolted. His steps were wobbly and likely fueled by panic alone, but adrenaline was undeniably effective in getting him very far away, very quickly.

“Rude,” Janus muttered to the empty air he’d left behind, and then followed the kid as far as he could manage through his rings, making certain this time that he’d actually left the forest behind.

There still wasn’t a single other human around, let alone one that appeared to be looking for something as valuable as lost offspring. Janus tried not to let the information grate against his scales, with only mild success.

In the end, he still wouldn’t get his answers. It didn’t matter. The child had clearly been scared off for good, so there was no use pursuing the issue further.

He shouldn’t dwell on things he couldn’t change, anyhow.

–

The third time Janus encountered Logic, the child found him first.

It was another overcast day, with a light sprinkling of rain that was certain to become something miserably damp within an hour or two.

He hadn’t expected any more visitors, and certainly not any that would make it to one of his rings and lurk there, so he’d been more puzzled by the relative dryness of the leaves beneath his feet. In fact, he hadn’t realized anyone was near, let alone guessed just who was sitting at the edge of the faerie circle until a tiny, presumptuous throat cleared.

(Such obliviousness was out of character for him. If the kid had been a snake, he could have bit Janus.

Good thing he’d picked a kitten before, instead.

Even if those, too, had fangs of their own.)

Logic waved a hand, showing no signs of his previous panicked flight– except there was a slightly harder set to his shoulders, Janus noticed, like he was preparing for a difficult fight.

He’d brought a bag with him this time. It was partially open, and Janus easily made the connection between the spare pieces spilling from it and the plastic canopy that had been painstakingly assembled over his mushroom ring. Large and durable, it was currently diverting the rain away from Janus’s circle with streamlined ease.

“Hello, Deceit,” the kid greeted. “I’m back for my next lesson.”

Between them, the deal rekindled, sparking dull embers back to life at Logic’s willful insistence. With a willingness to keep providing knowledge, he could theoretically continue to learn for as many lessons as he paid the dues for. It was one of the many loopholes that were applicable to such open-ended deals, but Janus certainly hadn’t anticipated the child using it against him.

How interesting. It seemed there were still things an ages-old fae couldn’t predict, after all.

From beneath the comfortable shelter of an oversized dollhouse gazebo, Janus tipped his head back and laughed.

[adaptacy]

A Found Flame {Pt.8}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: got to the astral boat scene... cried a lil. got to the mystra meeting... punched my monitor a lil. /j anyways i made a new divider thing cause the other one was a placeholder and uhmm dont judge it pls i am nawwwt an artist i just slapped together some bits n pieces

Word count: 1.2k

He couldn’t have been more than sixty miles from Daggerford when he first felt it. Hardly subtle was the sensation that bordered on the edge of painful – a stinging pain, like a papercut or a pinch – as the orb was disturbed. He pulled his brown mare to a halt, who offered only an irritated whinny, and his palm pressed to his chest. Even when it was buried beneath three layers of fabric, he could feel the buried beat, thumping against his ribs in some attempt to escape. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or fear that rendered his throat so irrationally dry, and his eyes flicked to the saddlebag to his left, reminding himself that his dagger rested mere inches away, should he need to use it. 

Not that he felt it was truly an option he could make – not when they remained in Waterdeep, waiting for him. Not when his mother sent letter after letter requesting his presence, worrying about him spending all of his time in that damned tower. Not when he still had so much to do, to teach, hells – to learn.

But the weave didn’t care. Mortal worries, mortal fears, mortal disobedience. What the weave wanted from him, it would take, and no bargaining would score him any better. 

It beats again, but the reasoning is beyond him. He stumbles, awkwardly shifting off of his horse and staggering off of the road, the saddlebag now in his hand. The horse whinnies once more behind him, giving a stomp of disapproval, but it doesn’t yet flee. 

Another beat, and this one echoes in the very earth around him, the leaves of the woods – the Misty Forest, he concludes – trembling at the power that he holds? The ground shudders, and again, he stumbles, falling to his knees, dirtying the plush plum of his coat. One hand presses against the trunk of a tree, desperate for stability, and the other rustles through his bag, hissing as his fingers grace the silver blade of his dagger, staining it with fresh blood. Then they find the hilt, and the weapon is retracted. He meets its eyes �� his own eyes – and he feels the judgment. The shame. 

What a mess he’s become. A terrible waste of talent. A miserable slum of what was once a wonderful wizard. How far he’s sunken, wallowing as a lowlife where he once had a seat at the very table of the Lord’s Helm. A short-lived seat, it was, but the stark difference of status is nauseating. 

He hasn’t said all that needs to be said. He hasn’t seen his mothers face in, what, years? Certainly not since this gods-forsaken blight has invaded his body. He hasn’t told her he loves her, not face-to-face, in perhaps even longer. He used to share tea with her every other week. He used to brag to her about his newest studies, read his journals to her as she praised her son as though he’d done something truly life-changing. He’d promised her – promised her that he would do something with them. That, one way or another, he’d change the world, for her, for his prodigious talent, for Mystra–

Gods, Mystra. 

They’d never understand. Perhaps nobody could – the mere idea of godhood isn’t something the average mortal fumbles with the concept of. To touch godhood, real godhood, to feel godhood’s embrace, to taste godhood, to love and argue and plead with godhood? 

No, nobody could understand. 

There was, once, a reason he wrecked his body to such unfathomable levels. A beautiful, divine, wonderfully perfect reason. A reason he’d hunted down the extent of her reaches, dared to tussle with some influence even larger than his goddess, a reason he threatened the very origin of the weave itself. 

There was a reason he’d gotten so far, and fallen even further. He liked to believe there was a reason he was chosen. A reason beyond his charm. A reason beyond her playfulness. How arrogant everyone else must have been – reminding him again, and again, and again, that he was not special. Not to her, not to them, hardly even to himself. How sweetly she spoke to him. How highly she praised him. How generous she’d been, to so fondly accept his kisses, his touch, his love, only to sever all ties the instant he strayed too far. 

His grip tightens on the dagger, and the earth trembles again – he wants to find a purpose. Beyond being the plaything everyone says he is. Beyond being just a muse in her long history of flings, of mortal manipulation, of abandoned chosen after abandoned chosen. His eyes close, and he tries to find a sense of belonging in his memories with her. Whether it be in her lectures, her fleeting warmth, her luring coos or her mystical prowess. 

He tries to find a sense of belonging seated at her side. So many years of his life, wasted to entertain her for a mere fraction of her trite immortality. In decades, he’ll be nothing more than a few lines in even fewer books, a word of warning to young wizards everywhere. He’s read them before, the names thus far belonging to men all but unfamiliar to him. Karsus, Dornar Silverhand, Khelben. Even Elminster shared such similar encounters, only ever brought up in quickly-fading exhales, shame stringing the sentences along, unwilling and cold. 

Youth lent him such forgiveness. Disregarding the tales were easy – this Mystra would be different. This Mystra would love him the way he loved her. 

But he’s no longer the doe-eyed seventeen year old he was when he granted her the benefit of the doubt. Instead, he’s nearly forty, and tired, and weary, and finding himself at the receiving end of a ridged, steel-forged blade, the orb pulsing, twisting, battling to overrule the beating of his heart.

And the woods shake again, and he feels the apical tip press into his skin, earning a hiss of discomfort from his bared teeth. 

He pressures the blade further, but the earth shakes again, and he’s thrown off his balance, the blade lodging instead in his shoulder, and he groans in overwhelming discomfort, his irritation for the misplacement only overshadowed by the pain searing through his nerves. 

The orb doesn’t erupt, but the sky certainly does, splitting to cast a large darkness over the forest – over the entire world, for all that he knows. He rolls onto his back, fighting to remove the blade from his shoulder, but his grasps are awkward and far too hesitant. A large, snaking mass of flesh-like anatomy swipes over the forest, knocking trees around him, and his chase for suicide is halted by an intense horror, completely unaware of what in the hells is happening above him. He coughs, choking on his pain, and another curse of biology crashes into the forest. 

He’s able to follow the form to its root, finding a terrifically unfamiliar hard-encased body of flight soaring the sky above him. At last, he rips the dagger from his shoulder, crying out at the tearing of muscle, and he instinctually tosses it aside. He hears the horse, at last, galloping to a safety he can only yearn for, and he’s not even granted a chance to see which direction it ran before the appendage of likely certified doom separates into smaller tendrils, the trees knocked aside once more until one grazes his torso, perhaps only by a mere stroke of luck, or the lack thereof, and he’s whisked into a pitch-black loss of consciousness.

[odditycircus-2002]

When Baraka saw You grow Wings

(A small drabble idea that came to mind that I decided to write down for my mental health. Also because I know what it's like dealing with back problems.)

To clarify from one of my headcanons post for Mortal Kombat 1, when Medusa!Reader was transformed, you didn't immediately grow wings. That would come later on when you ran away to the Tarkatan Colony.

/

Barka noticed how you retired to your quarters earlier than usual, which wouldn't be too concerning. If it weren't for how often you lean against something while groaning in pain and how you're often scratching at your back. Yet, you would wave off anyone’s concerns, stating that it’s just temporary and manageable. Baraka isn’t too convinced though, judging by how sluggish you are by the next day from a lack of sleep. The former merchant and tribune may not have much medical expertise, but he wishes you’d let him or ANYONE of the colony look over you. It doesn’t help at all that you cover yourself head to toe in a hooded cloak and robes, or constantly wear a mask. A mask he’s never seen you without.

Baraka eventually gets his wish, in a way, when he and his hunting party returned with a decently sized boar/like creature only for a young man afflicted with Tarkat to run up to him, out of breath. “Baraka, come quick! There-There’s something wrong with the Healer!”

The afflicted man wasted no time to rush toward your dwellings where a sizable crowd of Tarkatans had gathered outside. They are murmuring anxiously amongst themselves, wondering what will happen to them if their only Healer dies. Immediately, Baraka understands the concern when he hears a strained scream echoing from your home.

"WHY DID HE LET ME LIVE?!?"

The former tribune barks for no one but him to enter, for now. The crowd parts away for him as he makes his way into your living space.

He pushes aside the curtains hanging in your doorway, spotting you on your sleeping mat. You are curled up into a tight ball with your back to Baraka, mask off to the side. Your sides rise and fall as you take in deep breaths, trying to manage the agonizing burning pain that wracks your back. “Y/N? Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, please!”

Baraka pleads as he kneels beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. Only for you to let out a pained groan, before you grab your hood to hide your face.

“Don’t look pleassse!”

You hiss out before letting out a shout you barely choke back. Baraka pulls his hand away before he gets up and looks over to your apothecary cabinet. He grabs a small pot he’s seen you use for newly torn open skin, before then reaching for a small bottle filled with painkilling herbs he recognizes from his military days. Baraka then grabs a cup to fill with water from a canteen you often carry before kneeling beside you to place down all these items.

“Just take this, they help with the pain don’t they?”

You manage to rasp out,

“Noooo… saving those… for … others”

Baraka’s eyes widen at your words before his brows furrow.

"I admire that even now you're thinking of the colony. However, you're no good to anyone if you don't help yourself first."

You open your mouth to refuse, only to shudder violently as another wave of pain fills your body. Once you're able to speak again, you finally reply

"F-fine. Just... look away... please."

Baraka nods

"Understood."

He then turns around, listening to you pull yourself up, at least enough to take the herbs and down the water. Baraka speaks again when he hears you open you open the small pot.

"I could help with your back."

Silence fills the air as you contemplate Baraka's offer, before you shift on your mat to lie back down with your back to him.

"Fine. You can look now."

Baraka faces toward you once more to find the pot open. He picks it up before taking a look at your back, only to find it to be writhing as if there was something stuck underneath the clothing, now stained with two dark spots that smell strongly of blood. Baraka moves his gaze toward the door at the sound of footsteps, as a member of his hunting party parts your curtain to inquire about you.

''I'll be caring for her. Make sure everyone gets their portions of the prey we caught. Inform the rest of the colony that we are not to be disturbed UNLESS it's an emergency. "

"Yes sir."

The other Tarkatan then walks away to carry out his orders. With no more distractions, Baraka turns his attention back on you. Without another word, he grabs the back of your tunic and tears it open like it were tissue paper. His eyes widen at the sight of what looks like two bleeding bumps writhing between your shoulder blades. Upon closer inspection, those bumps looked to be something like the tip of claws.

"How long?"

Baraka inquires.

"About a moon ago. I don't know what's happening to me... I'm really scared, Baraka."

A heavy silence falls between you, as Baraka gets to work on putting the salve on your back. The former tribune notes how it's firmer than humanoid flesh with F/C scales speckling your back. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel the cool salve dampening the pain in your back.

"Baraka?"

The man makes a noise of acknowledgment.

"Could you please stay with me? For the rest of the night, I mean."

You don't see the soft expression on Baraka's face.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/N."

This proves to be true as for the rest of the night until the first light, Baraka stayed by your side. He only left to get you more water and food for you to eat, respecting your wishes and turning away as you do. He offered you a hand to hold as a stab of pain occasionally ripples through you. Eventually, you would pull yourself to his lap, wrapping your arms around his waist while burying your face into his stomach. Baraka didn't have to ask why you did this when a loud CRACK and SNAP echo within your dwellings.

"GAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

You scream as you dig your nails into Baraka's flesh. The latter lets out a reflexive growl but doesn't push you away. Your howl was loud enough to attract some passersby, including the Tarkatan from earlier, to poke their heads into your living space. Baraka quickly dismissed them and repeated how no one else was to enter.

After they left, the sound of wet tearing fills the former tribune's ears. Baraka watches with widened eyes as something like a folded clawed arm covered in blood starts to emerge from your back. You pant heavily as your hold on Baraka temporarily lessens, before you then start to sob quietly.

"Wh-why did he do this to me? Why? Why?"

A somber look settles on the afflicted man as he mutters some words of both encouragement and assurance, as you had done so many times for your dying patients.

"I promise you, I'll make the man who did this to you pay tenfold."

Baraka's not sure you even heard him over your sobbing, but he'll promise this as many times as you need to hear.

So the cycle repeats. You would shudder and spasm in pain, before you shriek in pain as the limbs in your back slowly emerge. Baraka would let you scratch him up and endure the ringing in his ears, before supporting you in any way he could. This includes water, some more pain medication, or an assuring touch. Finally, by first light, the pain stops.

The limbs on your back fully emerged from your back, which turned out to be full-blown wings. Your wings were bat-like and leathery, strongly resembling those of a Vaternian. Not for the first time, the colony's leader ponders what exactly you are or becoming. No matter, having you finally resting in his lap after an entire night battling your body, Baraka is glad to see you're alright.

[glitterrosesnzz]

Swirl

after. MONTHS. i have finally completed this Wanderer fic everybody clap

word count: 5k

Of all the people that Aether had been expecting to see as a participant at the Interdarshan Championship, the Wanderer was not one of them. 

The Hat Guy name was completely unexpected as well, and it had honestly taken everything in Aether’s power to not burst out laughing the instant that the other was introduced on stage by that name. The fact nobody else seemed to think of it as strange made Aether outright think he was hallucinating for a moment, but a simple glance at Paimon’s equally as confuzzled expression dismissed that idea. 

After briefly talking to the other contestants, Aether tracked down the Wanderer to the side of the stage- 

Turning the corner, he caught sight of the Wanderer ducking his head into his hand, once- twice- three times, his hat giving off a faint jingling sound with each movement. Aether raised an eyebrow, but was cut off by Paimon before he could even begin to form a sentence. He remained in silence, watching as Paimon and the Wanderer snarked at each other, taking his time to analyze the Wanderer’s appearance. 

Nothing seemed… obviously wrong, but Aether just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just ever so slightly… off. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He… somehow looked slightly paler, maybe? Or maybe not, he was a puppet after all- could his skin even get paler? 

Aether probably shouldn’t ask him that. 

Learning that Nahida was the reason the Wanderer was in the Akademia, and was going by Hat Guy no less, wasn’t much of a surprise. Still, Aether took the small lull in conversation that followed to ask his more pressing question. 

“Are… you doing alright?” He asked, slowly, rolling his eyes when, as expected, the Wanderer glared at him. 

“Tsk, I’m doing fine. There’s no need to concern yourself over me- hey- hey! What are you doing!?!” The Wanderer hissed as he attempted to back up as Aether strode forwards, only for his back to end up hitting the boxes behind him, practically trapping him as Aether tilted his hat back slightly, and leaned down to lightly press their foreheads together. Aether hummed as the Wanderer went completely still- staring at the Traveler with something in between confusion and anger. Even Paimon was floating off to the side, silent in shock at Aether’s seemingly spontaneous movement. 

“Checking you for a fever.” Aether quietly explained, as it was, Aether didn’t feel any heat- in fact, if he had to guess, he’d say that the Wanderer was running slightly colder than most people. “Something just felt… off. Figured you might be sick.” 

“I don’t get sick.” The Wanderer huffed, “I’m not some kind of weak mortal, remember? Now get off me.” 

The Wanderer forcibly shoved Aether back, Aether stumbling slightly with the motion, bumping his head against the Wanderer’s hat, knocking it further askew. With Aether out of the way, and his hat no longer shading his face, the Wanderer ended up getting hit in the eyes with a stray ray of sunshine. He let out a high pitched gasp- and Aether watched with slight concern as he turned to the side, stifling four sneezes into complete silence. 

“Bless you.” 

“Snf, unnecessary…” The Wanderer muttered under his breath, readjusting his hat so that the sunshine could no longer hit his face as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand- which had Paimon grimacing in disgust. Aether tilted his head to the side. 

“Unnecessary since you were nearly a god, and are as close to blessed as can be, or…?” He trailed off, smirking a bit as the Wanderer re-centered his glare on him. “Either way, you might want to take things easy-” 

“Enough idle chit-chat- you’re better off wasting your time with the other contestants.” The Wanderer interrupted, crossing his arms. He maintained his glare for a minute, before his expression shifted to a small, slightly evil looking smirk. “Someone’s about to get very unlucky, can you guess who?” 

“Ugh, how is anyone meant to relax with you around?!” Paimon groaned, floating along beside Aether as he turned and walked away. “We’re going to need to keep an eye on this one…” 

Aether couldn’t help but to agree, albeit, it was for a slightly different reason than Paimon thought. He still couldn’t help but feel like something was up with the Wanderer, and given that little… display he had given, Aether wasn’t going to drop this subject so soon- he hated to say it, but he genuinely was concerned for the other. There was a point to the fact that the Wanderer couldn’t get sick, he was a puppet afterall, he likely wasn’t susceptible to the same things that people were. But still, there was something off, and if it wasn’t a normal illness, then, well, what was it? 

Past-enemy that he was, Aether still didn’t want the guy to end up passing out in the middle of a competition because of some mystery condition. 

There was going to be a lot to keep an eye on during this competition, but it shouldn’t be too hard to pay a little bit extra attention to the Wanderer’s actions, would it? 

-

Aether was just about ready to strangle the Wanderer. 

He was astoundingly hard to keep track of. It had only been 20 minutes since the first round of the competition had started, and he had already lost track of the Wanderer’s position no less than 3 times. His only saving grace had been the trackers given to each participant to trace their movements during the game- and even then, it had taken him five minutes to find the Wanderer’s exact location again. 

Mainly because he hadn’t expected the Wanderer to be sitting at a table in the corner of a cafe’s terrace. 

Aether walked over to him with as much false-calm as he could muster. He’d left Paimon behind to keep an eye on the other contestants- someone needed to record the rest of the competition while Aether investigated the one participant who was not participating. 

“What. Are you doing.” Aether deadpanned, coming to a stop in front of the table as the Wanderer lifted his head to acknowledge his presence. 

“What does it look like?” He said, lifting his cup of tea to his lips to take a small sip. “You were the one who said something about me ‘taking it easy’, right? I’m just taking your advice. Not that it’s necessary, but it sure beats running around like a clown in a circus. I’m no clown.” 

Aether let out a tired sigh, pulling out a chair to sit down across from him. 

“Says the one going by the name ‘Hat Guy’. Why are you drinking tea anyways? It’s like, a million degrees outside right now- wouldn’t you be better off drinking something cold? They do make cold teas, you know.” Aether watched as the Wanderer stiffened almost imperceptibly at his question, something he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for anything to give an indication of what was up with the Wanderer. “Is your throat-” 

“I’m fine.” The Wanderer hissed, setting his cup down on the table with an audible clack- Aether was concerned for a moment that the cup would actually crack from the force of it, but it thankfully seemed to be undamaged. The Wanderer leaned forwards, resting his elbow on the table, holding up his face with one hand. “Really, I don’t understand what in the world has you so concerned anyways-” 

Aether reached across the table, and snapped his fingers in front of the Wanderer’s face, summoning a small flash of light with the motion. It wasn’t an ability he used often, his few remaining powers from before landing in Teyvat reduced to nothing more than small, harmless sparkles and flashes, but in this case it served it’s needed purpose. 

The Wanderer’s face twisted in a way that Aether was starting to rather easily recognize, as he leaned back and away from the table. 

“Oh- fu-hH... fuck y-hIHH-” The Wanderer’s head snapped forwards into three completely silent stifled sneezes, followed by another short, hitching gasp, the final stifle escaping his forced silence into something more vocal. “Hh’nNxti!” 

“That, is why I’m concerned.” Aether said, “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you sneeze before.” 

“What, so I’m not allowed to sneeze now?” The Wanderer leaned forwards again, gripping the edge of his hat with his hand- possibly to be ready to shade his eyes from any future flashes of light. “I didn’t take you to be so controlling, Traveler.” 

“No, no, it’s not that.” Aether rolled his eyes. “Of course you can sneeze, you’re clearly photic after all-” 

“I am not-” The Wanderer paused- practically biting his own tongue as Aether held his hand out again, fingers poised to snap. He tugged the edge of his hat further down. “...So what?” 

“I’m just saying, being photic doesn’t explain why you were sneezing even before me and Paimon started talking to you-” 

“Paimon and I.” 

“You have no right to try and ‘proper-grammar’ me right now. I expect that kind of stuff from Nahida, not you.” 

The Wanderer’s only response to that was a cocky smirk as he picked his tea up again. Aether sighed. 

“Don’t think you can distract me that easily. I know there is something up with you today.” He said, maintaining pointed eye-contact with the Wanderer. 

“And I think that you’ve finally gone paranoid. Tell me, do I really frighten you that much?” The Wanderer said, laughing a little- cutting himself off with a barely restrained series of coughs that had Aether’s face switching from irritated back to concerned in an instant. 

“I knew it. You’re sick.” 

“I am not- Like I said earlier, I can’t get sick. …The tea just went down the wrong way.” The Wanderer avoided eye-contact, staring off to the side. They were both well aware that that excuse was complete bullshit- despite having picked his cup back up, the Wanderer had yet to sip any of his tea again, there had been no tea in his mouth to have gone the wrong way. Aether was about to call him out on it- 

His communicator went off. 

“Aether, you need to come see this!” Paimon’s voice rang out, and Aether let out a sigh. 

“I’ll be right there.” He said, waiting for the click indicating that Paimon had hung up, pulling out the device to check the other contestant’s locations as he stood up before glancing back at the Wanderer. “Don’t think I’m going to drop this. We will be talking about this later. I’m not afraid to drag Nahida into this if I must.” 

The Wanderer scoffed. 

“Be my guest.” 

-

It was only after the first round of the competition had wrapped up, that Aether realized that, with all the contestants' trackers turned off for the day, he no longer had any way of finding the Wanderer. He searched around the main stage- not surprised to find absolutely nothing, not even the slightest trace of the other. 

The only other place he could think of to check was the Sanctuary, which meant, of course, getting Nahida involved. To be completely honest, Aether hadn’t truly planned to bring Nahida into this so early, he was kinda hoping that the Wanderer would cave in first, but there was no chance of that happening if he couldn’t even find him. 

“...Nahida?” Aether called out, letting the doors of the Sanctuary softly close behind him. He stepped in, glancing around. There was nobody in the main room, which meant that Nahida- and the Wanderer, if he was here, were off in one of the side rooms. Sighing, Aether decided that he would check the library first- outside of the small garden that had been installed, the mini-library was the most common place where Nahida could be found. 

He gently knocked on the door before entering, letting out a small sigh of relief upon hearing Nahida’s voice call out “Come in!”. Aether stepped into the room, taking a moment to take in the room before focusing on where Nahida was seated on top of a chair covered in pillows, multiple books open on the table in front of her. 

“Oh- Traveler! I hadn’t been expecting you!” Nahida hopped down out of her chair, walking over to greet him. “I’d been kinda hoping that you were the Wanderer- he hasn’t come home yet.” 

“He hasn’t?” Well, that got rid of the possibility of finding him here. “Do you… have any idea of where he could be?” 

“Hmm…Nope! I can tell he’s in Sumeru, but his exact location is beyond me. …Why? Did something happen?” 

“Well… There’s something just, a little off about him?” Aether tilted his head to the side, wondering how best to explain the vague feeling he had, before deciding to just settle on presenting his main theory to her. “I think he might have come down with something- like a cold.” 

“That…shouldn’t be possible.” Nahida’s brows furrowed as she thought. “Being a puppet, he shouldn’t be able to get sick.” 

“That’s what he said too…” 

“But-” Nahida glanced up, like some kind of realization had just struck her. “I did think there was something a little off about him too, the last time I saw him. I just thought that I was imagining things.” 

“Considering that I’m also sensing something off? Unless two people can have the same hallucination, something is definitely up.” Aether said, “When was the last time you saw him, by the way?” 

“...About 2 days ago, actually.” Nahida hummed, glancing off to the side. “I didn’t think much of it- he’s spent a week in the forest without coming back before, but now that you also think there’s something up… Hm. Maybe I should try and find some way to check in on him…” 

“I mean, he’ll… probably show up for tomorrow’s round of the competition, right?” Aether asked, “You could always come to see-” 

“Ah- no. Unfortunately, I can’t go, there are some… other things I must take care of.” Nahida let out a forlorn sigh. “But… you’ll be there, won’t you, since you’re a commentator and all? You’ll continue to keep a close eye on him, right?” 

“...Well, he can be rather hard to find sometimes, but… I’ll do my best, Nahida.” 

-

Aether couldn’t help but feel worried when he couldn’t immediately spot the Wanderer at the competition’s main venue in the desert. What if something had happened to him- what if he’d passed out in the woods somewhere? 

He had informed Paimon of his suspicions about the Wanderer’s condition last night, so he wasn’t all that surprised when she shot up into the air to get a better vantage point to look around, only to sink back down to float beside him with a small shake of her head. No luck on that front then. 

There was a small beep from their devices as the second round of the competition began, and Aether quickly flipped to the section displaying the trackers on the participants. 

The Wanderer’s title of “Hat Guy” flickered on the screen. 

Huh. So he was in the desert- within the competition grounds even, just like everyone else. 

Why hadn’t he been at the venue, then? 

Highly suspicious (and also worried), Aether decided to check in on him, first. 

…Only to be severely side-tracked by stumbling upon a half-passed out Tighnari. 

He’d been just about to run back to the main venue, for both water and possibly a medic team- when he very nearly ran into the guy he had been initially searching for. The Wanderer looked no different than he had the day prior, but something was setting off even more alarm bells in the Traveler’s mind then there’d been yesterday. 

“Here- give him this.” The Wanderer held out a completely full water bottle- but that was not the first thing that Aether took note of. 

“Your voice is… a lot rougher today.” He noted, “Is your throat okay?” 

“I’m fine.” Somehow, this sentence sounded weaker than it had the day before. “My voice is the same as always, the stress of the competition is just making your poor little mortal body hear things. That’s not important though- just give him this.” 

The water bottle was practically shoved into Aether’s hands. Paimon clicked her tongue. 

“Are you sure it’s okay to give Tighnari this? What if you’re contagious?” She asked. Aether had to admit, it was a good point. Whatever was up with the Wanderer, he didn’t want to be giving it to Tighnari. The Wanderer tsked. 

“I’m not contagious, I don’t even get si-....sick…” He trailed off, a dazed expression on his face- and Aether knew instantly what was about to happen. There was a brief silence- the Wanderer’s face twisting as he seemed to be trying to resist the inevitable, before his eyes fluttered shut with a hitching breath. “Hihh…hIH- hEH’xNtiu! Hh- hH’nxt! HN’xTii! Heh- hiH’IsHKiu!” 

It seemed he wasn’t capable of stifling into silence anymore- not to mention the one that had completely gotten away from him at the end, complete with a small gust of anemo that surged forth- shockingly cold, for a desert wind. Aether barely suppressed a shiver. 

The Wanderer, for his part, recovered fast, straightening himself back up and readjusting his hat as he sniffled. 

“Not sick, huh?” Paimon said, prompting a glare. 

“...I just got some sand up my nose, that’s all.” Okay, his voice definitely sounded a bit hoarser than before, there was no way the Traveler was imagining that. “...I didn’t even drink out of the bottle though, if you’re going to be that paranoid about it. Barely even touched it outside of handing it to you just now.” 

Aether… supposed he could believe that- not the sand part, there was no way that was true, but the water bottle being fine was probably true- and speaking of which, how on Teyvat had he completely forgotten about the half-passed out person behind him- 

He only took his gaze off of the Wanderer for a mere second, but by the time Cyno arrived, and the Traveler finally felt like he had a moment to turn around… He was gone. Again. 

As Cyno helped Tighnari to his feet, Aether flicked open his device- thankfully, it seemed like the Wanderer hadn’t left the area, as his name was still flickering on the screen. Still though- possibly sick-and-in-denial puppet or not, Tighnari currently took priority- Aether could only hope that the Wanderer didn’t vanish into nowhere again while he was helping Tighnari back to the venue. 

…Except he did. 

Sure enough, after making sure Tighnari was safe and sound, Aether opened his device again- only to find that ‘Hat Guy’ had seemingly vanished. A brief round of asking around revealed that he had also withdrawn from today’s competition- but that didn’t ease Aether’s worries in the slightest. 

The Wanderer could’ve gone anywhere. He could be fighting in the forest, or walking through the desert- and he could collapse out there, and no-one would be any the wiser. 

-

Hearing that the Wanderer had fought some guys, before vanishing again, was at the same time both relieving and concerning. At the very least, whatever was going on with him, he didn’t end up passing out mid-battle. 

Kaveh took up most of Aether’s attention shortly after, however- he did make note that the Wanderer seemed a lot more quiet than usual. 

This was doubly affirmed when Nahida showed up- the Wanderer in tow… and every single response the Wanderer gave was in nothing but a whisper. 

It seemed like, for some reason, he expected that none of them would notice. 

One shared look with Nahida and Paimon confirmed that all three of them did, in fact, notice. 

“Alright, Mister.” Nahida put her hands on her hips, looking up at the Wanderer with a serious expression on her face. “Now that all the other stuff is out of the way- what’s up with you? And don’t think you’re going to get out of this by just vanishing like you did last night.” 

Nahida had found the Wanderer last night? Huh. Looks like there’d been some interactions Aether had missed out on. 

“Heh, and what do you plan on doing about it?” Wanderer whispered- leaning down slightly with a smirk on his face- how he could act so confident when something was clearly wrong, Aether had no idea. “You can’t keep me here.” 

Nahida’s eyes flashed with green light. 

Without any other pre-warning, vines sprung out of the ground, wrapping tightly around the Wanderer’s ankles. The Wanderer let out a curse- his voice breaking halfway through in a way that sounded outright painful, as he immediately tried to fly up out of the vine’s grip. 

Only to be pulled right back down to the ground- with enough force to make his hat fall off. Aether reached out and caught it before it could hit the ground, but- 

“HN’xTii!” There was no pre-warning as the Wanderer snapped forwards with a sneeze, only just barely stifling it into his hand. Aether had only a second to realize that it must’ve been in response to the sun, before the Wanderer was sneezing again, thrown into a small fit. “HH-hH’nXtiu! hEH’xNtiu!! HihH-hH’NXt!!” 

“You know stifling isn’t good for you, right?” Nahida commented, even as a stray gust of cold wind made her shiver. Aether had to agree- those stifles had sounded desperate and almost painful. The Wanderer didn’t respond, one hand hovering over his nose, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not he was going to sneeze again, while his other hand went up to shield his eyes from the sun by covering them entirely. 

“...Give me my hat back.” He eventually sniffled, and he sounded so terrible that Aether genuinely considered giving in for a second. 

But only for a second. 

“No. Not until you tell us what’s going on.” Aether said, crossing his arms, the hat in his grip jingling as he did so. “Nahida confirmed that you shouldn’t be able to get sick, so don’t even try that argument again, we’ve already been over it. But, there’s clearly something wrong, and we’re not going to let you leave until you tell us what it is.” 

The Wanderer, still gave no response, instead standing there silently, vines wrapped around his ankles and hand over his eyes. 

After another minute of a silent stand off, Nahida gave a tired sigh. 

“Well… we did give you ample time…” She muttered, “Paimon, could you come here for a moment? I need your help with something.” 

Wanderer’s whisper of “what do you think you’re planning?” was outright ignored by all three of them, as Nahida brought her hands together, summoning a small flower- considering Aether couldn’t immediately recognize it, it was likely one native to Sumeru. Nahida carefully crushed it up, until it was nothing more than petals and pollen in her hands. 

With nothing more than a short and simple telepathic message, she dumped the pile into Paimon’s waiting hands, and Paimon was off on her little mission. Slowly, being careful not to make any sound, she floated up, until she was above the Wanderer’s head- 

And then she dropped the pile of petals directly on top of him. 

“Wha-” The Wanderer’s breathy exclamation of confusion was cut off as his breath instantly caught on a hitch. “Hehh-hiIH- hiH’IsHKiu!!! Hh’shKiu! Hih-heH’inKshiu!!” 

The sudden gust of ice cold wind blew the petals and pollen away, and both Paimon and Nahida found themselves fleeing to hide behind Aether’s back to escape the biting cold that came with it. Aether noted, faintly, that the lines on the Wanderer’s body were glowing an icy blue, instead of their usual anemo teal- and that, when the Wanderer’s eyes cracked open with small tears, they were glowing the same colour. 

“B-Bu’er, wh-hh…why would y-you…Hh…” The sunlight landed directly in the Wanderer’s eyes, and he ducked his head, clearly fighting against another fit, if the tense way he was holding his shoulders was any indication. Was he holding his breath? Aether was pretty sure he was. 

Finally taking slight pity on him, Aether walked forwards and gently placed the Wanderer’s hat back onto his head. The Wanderer’s hands immediately went up to pull the brim of the hat down, shielding his face from any more beams of light. 

“Uh, where did the ice come from?” Paimon questioned, and Aether turned to look at her in confusion, before following her eyes down and- yep, sure enough, that was ice on the ground. In the desert. In the middle of the day. Yeah. Okay. 

“Wanderer?” Nahida slowly moved forwards, still shivering a little, clearly unused to being exposed to any kind of colder temperature. “This is extremely abnormal. You have to tell us what’s going on.” 

The Wanderer shook his head, still looking down, shoulders tense. Aether leaned down to Nahida and whispered to her conspiratorially; 

“I think he’s holding his breath so that he doesn’t sneeze again.” Considering for a moment, he then added on, “Probably embarrassed by the fact he sounds like a kitten-” 

“I do no-hH-hIH’ksh!! H’nXti!! Hh’NxTiu!!! N’xTt!! Heh-hHiKshiu!!!” The Wanderer’s protest was cut off by yet another kittenish fit- as well as another gust of ice cold air, his hat getting knocked slightly askew. Aether watched in slight fascination as the patch of ice on the desert floor grew slightly wider. Fit finished, the Wanderer gasped slightly for breath. Nahida, despite shivering, walked forwards, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him down slightly so that she could fix him fully with her expression of concern. 

“Wanderer. Please.” She said, “Tell us what’s wrong.” 

Silence. 

And then the Wanderer tsked, pulling his hands out of Nahida’s grip, readjusting his hat again. 

“You’re all worried over nothing.” He hissed, “I just… got hit by a Fatui member's attack. Ice shot, y’know.” 

“That’s not nothing!” Nahida gasped, “Are you hurt?!”

“Of course not!” The Wanderer’s voice broke again, and he coughed, before continuing. “I’m fine. It’s just… a little elemental residue. It’ll go away in a bit.” 

“It doesn’t seem to be going away.” Aether noted, ignoring the glare the Wanderer shot at him. “In fact, you’ve seemed to be getting worse.” 

Nahida snapped her fingers, before pointing at the Wanderer accusingly. 

“I told you stifling was bad for you!” She said, “You’re just keeping the remaining elemental energy inside of you!” 

The Wanderer tsked again- not confirming but also very obviously not denying her observation. Nahida put her hands on her hips, staring up at the Wanderer with an unimpressed expression. 

“So, then… how do we fix this?” Paimon asked. Nahida’s expression did a complete 180 as she turned to smile at Paimon. 

“It’s simple, really, he just needs to kitten-sneeze it out!” 

“Not a kitten sneeze.” Wanderer muttered, but was steadfastly ignored, even as he continued. “I can’t just turn Sumeru into a winter wonderland. Besides, it’s not like I can just sneeze on command-” 

The vines that had been gripping his ankles let go, only to move shoot upwards to wrap around his wrists instead. 

“What are you-” 

“So that you don’t stifle!” Nahida explained, simply; “And besides, we can always get rid of the ice afterwards. Now, Traveler?” 

Both Nahida and Paimon moved to hide behind Aether once more, and the Wanderer didn’t even have a second to protest this development before Aether was snapping his fingers in front of his face, summoning a bright flash of light. 

The Wanderer’s breath hitched immediately, unable to get out a single complaint before he was pitching forwards into another fit of kittenish sneezes, his hat falling off from the force of them. 

“HhiH’IsHKiu!! Heh’Shkii!!! HahH…heH’ishiu!!! ‘Kshi!! H’inKshiiu!!” The swirling burst of anemo and cyro was almost enough to make Aether stumble back as he summoned a geo shield to protect both him, Nahida, and Paimon. The ice spread across the ground, steadily increasing and covering an eight foot radius. A few snowflakes appeared, and the Wanderer’s next hitching breath was visible in the cold air. “HiihH- Ishhiu!! HihH’inkshii!! H’eshii!! ‘Kshiu! Hh’iKShiu!!!” 

The Wanderer gasped for breath, and it was only after a minute passed with no further sneezes and accompanying burst of freezing anemo that Aether slowly lowered the geo shield. Carefully, to avoid slipping on the sudden layer of ice surrounding them, Aether strode forwards, picking the Wanderer’s hat up off the ground and placing it back on the others head for him, yet again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, slightly adjusting the hat as the Wanderer’s hands were still tied. The Wanderer’s eyes blinked open, hazy with tears, and Aether noted that the fading glow was back to it’s usual teal. 

“Was th-” The Wanderer’s voice, which quite frankly sounded painful, gave out on him. Aether figured that, with how vocal his little fit had been, that only made sense. 

“Here, here, let Paimon say it for you!!” Paimon floated up beside him, slipping into her ‘best’ impression of him. “‘Was that really necessary?’ That’s what you were gonna say, right?” 

Based on the Wanderer’s pissed off scowl, yes, that was exactly what he had been going to say. 

“It was very necessary, in fact.” Nahida shivered, and Aether reached down and picked her up so that her bare feet weren’t touching the cool ice. “It would’ve taken a week at the rate you were going, and you would’ve only gotten worse over that time.” 

She snapped her fingers, the vines disappearing, and the Wanderer instantly crossed his arms, looking away from them. 

Nahida let out a sigh. Aether, after a brief moment, sighed as well. 

“C’mon.” He said, adjusting Nahida slightly and turning around. “Lets head back to the Sanctuary and get the both of you warmed up- I’ll even make that bitter tea that you like so much. At the very least, drinking something hot will help your throat.” 

A small, cool breeze hit the back of Aether’s neck, and he just barely kept himself from yelping, turning slightly to see the evil smirk on the Wanderer’s face. 

Aether’s only response was to roll his eyes.

[pinkchangelingdemon]

Dealing with demons in a basement isn't is the best idea

This is the story of sweet naive Mark and his friend Michael.

A mortal month ago, Michael was helping his friend Mark store the christmas decorations in the basement of the buidling where Mark lived with his mother, and they "accidentally" summoned a demon. At first they thought he was the hot dude Mark's mother pays rent every month, I mean, I looked exactly like an exact naked copy of that stud but my eyes gave me away. You know, when I'm weak, even if I shapeshift, they are still red and glow.

You should have seen their faces! they couldn't keep their eyes away from the snake hanging between my legs. They were almost hipnotized by it. So when I offered them to make a deal, to give them the ability to possess hot dudes like me... while of course teasing them stroking that enormous dick... the fools said yes without hesitation.

After that, I dramatically vanished laughing while turning into a red mist.

If it wasn't for both of them being there with me, they would have thought they went crazy.

Back at Mark's house... of course I followed them inside that horrible building... well, they were still processing what just happended when they heard a knock in the door. Mark was the one to open it.

It was a plumber, sent by my lovely friend, the landlord.

He was a young and fit plumber, maybe my friend had a "personal interview" with him before sending him to that floor. Hehe

What? I am a lust demon what do you expect?

Ugh your are the worst! The point is while Mark was with the plumber, Michael was alone, falling asleep after carrying so many boxes. So a few whispers in his ear on how to use his new power and... the plumber started coughing.

Mark was about to call for help, but before he could do it, the plumber started to undress in front of him.

"what the fuck!?""It worked, Mark","M...Michael?" "Oh fuck his dick is HUGE!"

No more words were needed. The three of them made their way inside the house, were a innocent plumber helped two twenty years old nerds loose their virgnity betweed moans. Well, yeah, of course the plumber enjoyed it! After all, it was his dick the one used to make that horny nerd scream! But he also loose something that day, money! hahaha!

But here's the thing...after the first round, Mark suggested if he could top the plumber straight ass. Michael said no.

Other idea popped his mind, maybe let Mark borrow the body for a while. Same answer, no.

They both got annoyed, argued until Michael left still inside the plumbers body.

They fighted and fighted and fighted. He used to be a shy kind guy, but after possessing the plumber he was mad with lust. My bad, I guess.

Every time Mark said he was going to possess someone, Michael possessed them first and made Mark his bitch.

No, he wasn't into it and got tired. So after one loud discussion inside the bodies of two gym hunks, they split up.

...

Last week, to Mark's surprise Michael called him. But when he answered instead of his effeminate voice, on the other side was a masculine voice and he was crying.

After helping him calm down, he explained everything to Mark.

I saw it, he was reckless. He was trying to possess one of the guys from a basketball team during their practice but the coach saw him coughing. He wasted no time and kissed him trying to do the Heimlich maneuver, but when he felt the coach lips, they lost consciouness.

After that he was stuck as Mr. Grayson, the coach... What? There hasn't been a situation like that in three mortal centuries!

Even with his meaty and strong body, Michael couldn't pretend. Yeah, he was consumed by lust... but living other mortal's life was too much for the dumbass. He couldn't even look at his wife!so he moved to one of the apartments in that cursed building where his friend lived. Yeah, where I was trapped by that bitch!

Everything was going according to my plan.

He had no money, so I convinced my friend, the landlord, to find another way for the coach ro "pay him"...

Of course they fucked, stupid! The whole building heard the moans every time the landlord's cock penetrated the virgin ass of the coach. I even took control of my friend to feel it first hand, and made that horny bitch scream.

After that, Michael instead of becoming one of my lust servants, he became a bitter prick. After all he lost his ability to possess other people, while his friend was having the time of his life.

Envy demons, right?

He quit his job as coach and the gym, after all he didn't know how to do shit. So his days consisted on eating, watching TV, masturbating and being bossy with his fool friend Mark.

"Bring me beer, bring me pizza, fix the wifi..." oh, Mark was furious. He even attracted a rage demon!

It only took a week. Michael was drunk and threw a bottle at Mark's face. Luckily I turned him intangible.

He was furious. He charged against the burly body of the coach, ignoring he was still intangible.

You already know the result, uh?

After coughing for a whole minute he was in control of coach Grayson and Michael too.

Before he could have second thoughts the doorbell rang.

It was my horny landlord ready for the payment of the second week, masturbating in front of him. Ah, I picked him well.

"Ready for round two" he said before entering the apartment, where again he fucked without mercy the coach now controlled by sweet naive Mark. With every penetration, Mark, Michael and coach Grayson moaned.

They didn't last long against my good servant. While a torrent of cum was liberated from their shared dick. I made sure to seal these two fools inside the body of their coach.

Clever, right?

Now every time they fuck, every time they moan, every time Mark have a horny thought, their three souls combined feed me their lust.

So... Who's paying this round?

.........................................................

Check out how the landlord was possessed by one of his tenants! Here:

[bellonalabelle]

You're Just a Man || Namor X Goddess!Filipino!Reader

Note: Reader shall be referred as “Purigadang pada sinaklang Bulawan” or “Bulawan” in short. SPOILER AHEAD!

Summary: The feathered serpent god faced The Goddess of Wealth and Greed's Disapproval of his way of attempting to create an alliance and declaration of war.

Warnings: Angst, Hurtful words will be exchanged, Ego and pride will be stepped on.

Below the belt comebacks.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Revered with beauty and a face of perfection, Namor cannot help but admire how his goddess of a wife’s brows furrow as he continues to paint on the walls.

“Yet again, you are not listening to me.”

The brush halted from gliding on the smooth surface as She turned her back at him with her arms crossed.

The golden ornaments that adored her hair created a gentle sound as it followed her movements.

"In k'iino', Just this once can you not see this the way i do?”

Namor asked as he placed his paintbrush down to face his wife and Queen. He did not mean any disrespect to his wife’s opinion on capturing the princess of wakanda and the scientist.

If it be any other argument They would usually come into a compromise that leaves both parties happy.

However the safety of their underwater kingdom is at stake and he could not afford to waste time.

“You are being reckless, seeking alliance yet you sanctioned death on the scientist.”

she turned to face him

“And now you captured the crown princess, the only remaining heir of Wakanda. Do you have any idea what you just brought upon us? Our people?”

She questions as she steps closer to him, chin up as she looks at him eye to eye through her thick lashes. If he had not made her his wife, she would’ve been his greatest nemesis.

For she is the only one who dares challenge him and will win.

“I do not plan on harming the princess unless necessary. She must see what I must protect in order to form this alliance. "

he brings up his arms to cup her cheeks,

"She must see that annihilating that scientist will keep Talokan safe from the surface dwellers”

He Caressed the warm soft flesh as if speaking an unspoken apology, The Deity allows this as her piercing gaze looks up at him.

“And what if she disagrees? There is no guarantee that she will see it your way.”

Namor replied with ice in his words

“Then wakanda will be the first to fall against our war with the surface world”

Bulawan looks at him exasperated as she removes herself away from his grasp.

“You underestimate your foes, I have forgotten that you are still mortal after all."

Her words felt heavy on his heart as his expression turned cold and stoic.

“I have told you many times that your callous ways will one day prove to be ineffective, maybe that day is upon us.”

She speaks from experience, she knows that there is no changing her stubborn husband’s mind. She has seen how this kind of situation played out too many times.

Namor took offense with her words as his own brows furrowed, growing frustrated.

“My Callous ways have proven to be effective through centuries and have kept my people safe.”

His gaze cold as he looks down at her in an attempt to intimidate yet she only met his gaze.

“Since you claim you’re so much wiser, Why is your life spent all alone before our alliance?”

Silence filled the air as his words hung over them, he only realized the weight of his words when the deity's golden orbs showed hurt.

Being reminded of what she has lost Centuries ago left a bitter taste in her mouth, especially since it came from someone who she thought she could trust.

He attempted to take back his words yet it is far too late as the deity takes a step back from him.

" In yakunaj, i did not mea–"

They are interrupted by someone clearing their throat as they announce their arrival.

"K'uk'ulkan, In Reina, The princess is here"

They both face the direction of the entrance. Bulawan, no longer in the mood to argue, decided to cut the conversation short as she faced him.

"One day…you will know what I speak of, one day you might understand, One day…But that is not today because after all…"

Her gaze was stern as she spoke

"You're just a Man."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[unreadpoppy]

Family Portrait

Raphael x Gwen

Summary: Raphael decides it's time to have a paiting depicting all the members of his family. Sibling shennanigans ensue.

A/N:  Ok, this is most likely the last thing I’ll write in this AU(which i'm calling the betrayer AU) bc I want to write about Gwen actually being Tav. Also, for the sake of this, imagine that bc of the crown, Raphael’s immediate family (wife + children and himself) are immortal. 

Read on AO3

Read Betrayer here

The walls of the Raphael household were mostly decorated with portraits of himself. Over time, he had commissioned more paitings, bu now, some included other familiar faces.

In his bedroom, there was quite a large painting of himself alongside his wife, Gwendolyn, both dresses as they did on their wedding day. Around that were eight small individual portraits of each of their children when they were young.

Gwendolyn and Raphael’s offspring were all tieflings, whose skin tones varied amongst reds and pinks, although their youngest, Mydul, had a more purple-ish color, much like his grandmother. Some had blue eyes, red eyes, the same eyes of his father and a few had mismatched ones. Their hair varied through different shades of purple and black, and all were graced with four horns. 

Now that all of them were older, Raphael decided it was time for a family portrait. He commissioned his most prestigious artist and he sent a message to his children, all spread across the realms, who were quick to answer to their father’s call. 

Soon, the whole family was in the throne room, Raphael and Gwendolyn sat on their seats, him wearing the crown and her wearing the tiara. Some of their offspring were standing while others had arranged a loveseat to sit upon. 

The place was silent, the only sound heard was of the brushstrokes of the artist. Only a few minutes had passed when one of their sons voiced his displeasure. 

“This is extremely boring.” Aldric huffed. “I had to cancel one of my parties to just…stand here and do nothing.” Out of all his siblings, Aldric was the most extroverted, often spending his time in social events, charming and fooling poor mortals too entranced by his lavish looks. 

His older brother, Basil, and his sister, Tyria, exchanged looks. The two of them were always more inclined towards warring and fighting and although Tyria was a good dancer, neither of them were particularly fond of spending the time they could be training, on senseless parties. 

Basil chuckled. “It seems that the little prince would rather be inside another random woman than be with his family.” 

Aldric shot him an angry look. Although it was true that he liked to whore around, he’d rather not have their parents know of that. 

“Basil!” Gwendolyn cried out. “Do not be crude.” She could feel that it would be a long day. 

“Apologies, mother.” He said and shut up. 

The quietness didn’t last long, and soon, Myrdul spoke. “Father, how long will this take?” 

The youngest of the eight, Myrdul spent most of his time in the Prime Material Plane, having become an adventurer, just like his mother once was. Wasting an afternoon of this was not his idea of fun. 

“It will take as long as it needs to.” Natahlia, the oldest, replied. She stood in between their parent’s seats, one hand on Raphael’s shoulder. He didn’t reply, simply nodding at his daughter’s words. He had raised her well. 

“Fret not, brother, you’re not the only one suffering.” Mathilda spoke up. Of all of Raphael’s daughters, she was considered to be the most beautiful by the other lords of his court, which is why, often, Mathilda would spy on them, play niceties while gaining information to pass on to her father. 

“Mathilda, I know very well that your schedule was cleared for the day.” Gwendolyn spoke. Her daughter turned to look at her. 

“Pardon me, mother, but this is very tiring.” She sighed. “Spending hours sitting or standing still, doing nothing.” Mathilda looked over to her two of her siblings, Kyron and Brynn, who were sitting next to each other. “In fact, I think the only ones here enjoying themselves are the resident bookworms.” 

It was true that Brynn was the shyest of the family, spending most of her time in her father’s library, and while Kyron did well during social gatherings, he much preferred the peace and quiet of reading a book. 

Kyron rolled his eyes in annoyance. “It’s not my fault you’d rather be throwing yourself at every lord you see.” He snapped at his sister. 

Mathilda stood up, angry. “How dare you?! I do it for father!”

“Both of you stop acting like small children!” Natahlia said. “Mathilda, sit down, and Kyron, keep it to yourself.” 

“And why can you boss us around? Just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean anything.” Mathilda challenged. 

Natahlia crossed her arms and was about to reply when -

“All of you, shut up!” Brynn, who was usually as quiet as a mouse, stood up and shouted. “Stop whining and complaining. By the Nine Hells, no one is going to die because you spent a few hours of your oh so precious day with your family!” She then addressed her parents. “Forgive me, father, mother.” 

Gwendolyn smiled at her. “You have done well, Brynn.” She then turned her attention to the rest of her children. “You’ve all heard your sister. Enjoy moments like this, when we are all together. You never know when you can lose it all.” 

All, except for Raphael, looked down, almost ashamed. They settled down back to their places. 

Finally, the Archdevil Supreme spoke. “Do not forget we still have dinner after this. I have raised all of you better than this, and I expect good behavior.” 

A series of grunts and “yes, father” was heard. Gwendolyn chuckled and held her husband’s hand. Casting Message, she whispered to him. “Despite everything, I’m proud of them. Of how well they turned out.” 

Raphael looked at her and replied. “I am too.” 

[mommybookwyrm]

WIP Wednesday

I actually finished chapter 2 of Heartstrings!!! Now I just need to edit and revise a little and it should be ready to post by the end of this week.

Anyways, enjoy a snippet from Wyll's POV below the cut.

The lower level of the ruins were now quiet, the undead protectors once again lay in the dust at the feet of the forgotten god of the temple. All but one of them that was.

Wyll watched as the silent skeleton walked along the edge of the large chamber, more or less avoiding the small group as they made camp among the bones of the place. It was more than a little surprising when they had risen from the sarcophagus, asking them for the value of a mortal life.

They had taken a long look at all of them but had stopped and looked almost perplexed when their gaze had reached Astarion, a gaze that had made the pale elf obviously uncomfortable.

Wyll started at the sound of tin plates clattering to the floor and the sound of Shadowheart and Lae'zel once again throwing strings of insults at one another. Wyll sighed, wondering how bringing the githyanki into their group was going to end in anything other than blood, especially after her attack on Astarion earlier that day.

A stern word from Felyn'da and some placating gestures from Gale soothed over the disagreement for the moment and the latter announced that dinner was ready.

Wyll had to admit that it smelled worlds better then the meal from the night before did. Gale had made some kind of stew with the provisions they had found which had included meat and spices.

He took the bowl that was offered to him and dug in immediately, flinching only a bit at the still hot meal.

"Any idea where Astarion went," Gale asked, holding another bowl most likely for the aforementioned elf.

Wyll quickly scanned the large chamber and found that he did not see him. "I'll go see if I can find him," Wyll said, shoving more food into his mouth before he placed his bowl down and stood.

It wasn't hard to find the other man. Across from were they had set up, one of the walls had half caved in at some point in the centuries and opened up to a small underground stream.

Astarion stood at the edge, staring up at the ceiling. Looking himself Wyll could see a wooden hatch that no doubt lead to the surface, the rotted remains of a ladder lay on the ground underneath.

"Planing on trying your hand at some fishing again?" Wyll teased.

Astarion only answered him with an annoyed grunt. Okay, Wyll supposed he deserved that.

"Gale is finished with dinner," Wyll said. "It's actually quite good this time."

"I'm not hungry," Astarion said simply. Wyll wanted to call him out on that lie. He knew that the other hadn't eaten anything during breakfast that morning nor could he remember seeing Astarion eat anything through out their search of the ruins.

"I'm sure it's not the sort of fare that you're used to," Wyll started, "but it does you no good to go without. You'll need your strength for our journey tomorrow."

Wyll couldn't read Astarion's expression as the other turned to look at him then. He couldn't read much of Astarion to be honest, except for earlier that day when the elf had been absolutely terrified.

He was a good actor though and Wyll could see when he made the transition. His body, almost always tense since Wyll had pulled him out of that pod the day before, rearranging into a casual fluid walk as he approached. He placed his hand lightly on Wyll's arm as he passed, smiling and Wyll could feel his face flush at the contact.

"Of course darling you're ever so right," he drawled. "Wouldn't want me to waste away now would we?"

Before Wyll could get his tongue to work to voice an answer Astarion passed and released him from the strange spell. He turned to watch the other walk away, forcing his eyes to stay focused on the other's white curls and refusing to let them linger further down.

He looked away and back to the water, which he now had a sudden urge to plunge himself wholly down into. Well, that was something.

Distantly he could hear mocking laughter that he chose to ignore.

[fangirls-fanfiction]

Chapter 16 was done rather fast (I had gotten some of it done before I posted the one yesterday)

♦️𝙰 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝; 𝙰 𝚁𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙♠️

[TW the first part of this chapter has descriptions of violence (near death experience) and blood as well as guns and fire (and death) I promise there won’t be other chapters with as much blood and violence in the future]

♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Even as they yelled after her, she ran. Even as she heard the distinct sounds of gunshots, she ran. Even as her legs begged her to stop, she ran. She couldn't stop, it was between life or death.

In an attempt to lose them, she dashed down an alleyway. Turning around to see if the coast was clear, another gunshot fired just as she tripped and fell.

It was the end if the line. She scrambled to get up, only tripping and falling over once more. Such bad luck, tripping not once but twice; going down an alleyway with no way out; trying to pickpocket a man whilst not knowing he was the leader of a gang.

Such bad, bad luck. That's all she was good for, bad luck.

"Nowhere to run now, lil lady."

"I'm— I'm sorry! Please! I didn't mean any harm... I'm just so far away from home and I have nothing... I promise it won't happen again!" She begged for their mercy.

"There ain't no such thing as 'forgiving' in this here town. Besides, don't you know not to take things that don't belong to you?"

"Of course! I'm sorry! Here!" She tossed him his wallet. "Really! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to— "

"Too late for that, lil lady."

All four silhouettes aimed their guns at her, the girl shielding her face as she braced for impact.

But instead, she heard one of the guys screaming.

Quickly uncovering her eyes, she watched in horror as one of the gang members was caught ablaze by some unknown force. After he was scorched to ashes, another one's gun blew up in his face, causing him to fall over and his body catch in fire. The leader and one other man stood alone as a cloud of purple smoke and bright spark appeared in between the girl and the gangsters.

As the smoke cleared, she watched in horror as they all recognized who had joined them in the alleyway.

"Hello boys." The Devil sneered.

Wasting no time, the two gangsters shot at the demon, only seeming to knock her back slightly. With a snap of her fingers, the barrels of both of their guns were bent, pointing directly at them.

"Shoot another damn bullet… I fucking dare you." The Devil spoke darkly.

The two gang members ran off, the Devil still standing with her back to the girl. She had no idea what the demon had in store for her. She herself had never seen a four person gang turn to a two person gang run off from one person. Not only that, but she was the Devil. Her purpose was to cause misery and break mortals' dreams and create chaos. Who knows what she was planning for her now that the gang was gone. It didn't matter how many times those gang members had shot her, she was the Devil.

Though, as the demon stood there, the girl became less and less convinced. The gang had surely shot her more than a dozen times, but she was immortal, she would be fine. Right...?

Swaying back and forth slightly, the Devil finally fell to the ground with a thud. Her trident clanked to the cement, bouncing just out of her reach. Not that she was reaching for it, she didn't move a muscle after she fell to the ground.

Taking that as a miracle, the girl hurried out of the alleyway and past the fallen demon. Coming to the end of it, she stopped dead in her tracks.

Devil or not, the demon had saved her life and here she was running off without so much as a thank you. She turned around a bit, the demon still not moving. Walking back into the alley a few steps, she stopped when she felt she was far enough away that she could run if the Devil were to wake up.

"Are... Are you ok...?" She asked, her voice echoing in the alleyway.

But the Devil didn't react whatsoever.

"Ma'am, are you ok?" She said more confidently, taking one more step closer.

Still nothing.

Just then, she saw it. A large wound on the Demon's hip, swimming in blood.  Panicking, she looked around as if someone was nearby who could help. But at this time of night, the streets were desolate. Not one person. Just her and the Devil.

Kneeling down to be more level with the demon, she felt a sharp pain near her stomach. Immediately placing a hand over it, her white glove turned red from the blood of the bullet wound.

'I didn't dodge the bullet...' She stared in complete horror.

Snapping back to reality, she noticed that the demon's wound was only getting worse by the minute.

Untying her neckscarf, she was hesitant to actually follow through with this plan. This was the Devil after all. Glancing at her face, the girl let out a sigh before letting out a deep breath and began dabbing the blood to hopefully control the bleeding. Her father had taught her a bit about first aide- But nothing about demon blood. Not that she thought that she'd ever need it; in the 20 years of her life, she never once thought that her first encounter with the Devil would be like this. So she handled this situation as she would for a human. Applying pressure, she finally took another glance at the demon. Able to concentrate on her appearance now, she was almost surprised. Aside from the horns and tail, the Devil looked pretty... Average. Despite all the stories she had heard, the Devil's appearance seemed to contradict almost all of them. The demon almost looked friendly, but she should've known better. The demon most likely used this form to trick people. Though fallen down on the ground unconscious and bleeding, the Devil looked rather defenseless. Not in a negative light, but in a damsel in distress kind of way. She'd almost call her beautiful, though that just felt... Odd. Pretty or not, she was still the Devil. Like, the mistress of all Evil and the Queen of Hell.

Turning back to the wound, her efforts hardly seemed to be working. Her neck scarf appeared to have hardly done anything. Putting the scarf aside, she looked around. Panic setting in, she realized that she had no idea how to deal with this effectively.

She jumped at a quiet groan, the Devil's eyes blinked open to a narrow slit. Her eyes were an empty, yet oddly beautiful, shade of gold. Glowing in the darkness, her eyes fixed on the girl, the girl freezing in place. Though the demon seemed less angry and more confused. Unfocused. Like she was trying to remember what had happened. Hesitantly, the demon sat up, the girls falling backwards and backing away. She coughed as blood entered her lungs, making her fall back against the brick wall of the alleyway. She struggled to breathe, as she watched the Devil stand without much effort and go to her trident.

With a single strike to the ground, the magic of the demon's trident had healed her wound. She glanced back at the girl, who panicked, trying to explain herself but instead threw herself into a coughing fit, falling to the ground.

"You're a Dice, I presume?" The Devil knelt down to be level with her. "I'd recognize that dapper clothing anywhere."

"Go away— " She started, coughing once more.

"I see they got you pretty good." The Devil ignored her comment.

Unable to speak and verbally tell her to go, the girl mustered up all her strength to swing at the Devil, the demon easily catching her fist.

"Listen, this is important, I can help you... For a price." The Devil let go of her hand. "Judging by the fact that you're inhaling your own blood, you've only got a few minutes." She went on. "You can either die here or let me help you; for the small price of working for me under a contract."

The girl sat up, opening her mouth to speak, only to fall right back over in a coughing fit.

The Devil extended out her hand for a handshake, awaiting her to take the deal. Barely able to breath, her vision began to get fuzzy as she stared at the Devil's hand. Using what was left of her strength, she took the chance, agreeing to the deal and shaking the Devil's hand.

Not even a moment later, her lungs cleared, giving her a chance to breath once more. Feeling around where her wound once was, she was relieved to see that it was gone. She was ok. She wasn't going to die.

Her gaze redirected to the Devil to thank her for what she had done, however, her heart sank as she stared right at a contract and a quill.

"That's an awful lot of fine print."

"Don't worry about it, no one reads it anyway." The Devil placed a pen in her hand.

"I..."

"Don't go back on your word now... I hate it when people go back on their word." The Devil growled.

Nodding quickly, she hesitantly signed the contract, the shimmery, gold parchment disappearing with a spark as her own left the paper.

"There we are, the deal is done and the oath is sealed." The Devil sneered. "Welcome aboard, Miss Queen Dice."

♣️ ♣️ ♣️

Queen Dice blinked awake that morning. It wasn't often that she had that dream of her first encounter with the Devil. Though they were happening more often than normal since she and Luci had started dating. It was just the beginning of a painful thought in her mind.

Their whole relationship had started with a simple contract 10 years ago... So was that all that it was...?

At some point the two of them had fallen asleep in the demon's bed together. She had been helping her Boss calm down from her stressful situation the day before and time had just gotten away from both of them.

Dice rolled to face the other, only to find the bed was empty. Of course, this was no surprise, she was well aware that her boss was quite an early bird, even when she slept over.

Queen Dice was slow to get ready for the day, that same painful thought lingering in her mind long after she'd woken from the dream.

For years, her Boss never really cared about her. The Devil made it painfully obvious that Dice was just another one of her pawns that was easily replaceable. That had gone on for years, even after she'd been rehired all those years ago. But everything seemed to change when the Cup sisters had beaten them at their own game they were desperately trying to win. After the whole 'good for nothing lackey' thing, Queen Dice was at her last straw with the demon.

But something between then and the Devil begging her to come back had changed. Luci had a new found respect for Dice. She treated her as an equal. She no longer felt like she was just another stepping stone for her Boss. Something had changed. But Dice didn't know exactly what that was. It was going on four years now since that had happened, and Dice couldn't be happier with her current life. Yet she couldn't help but wonder if the contract she signed was the only thing holding them together. That their whole relationship was based on a deal made when Dice had absolutely nothing left to lose.

Walking out to the throne room whilst putting her hair up in its usual style, she caught sight of Luci down a hallway.

"Hey, Luci, I need to ask you something— "

Without a word, the demon placed a finger over her lips, gesturing to the door she was currently by. Of course, Queen Dice knew very well that this was the room the girls had been staying in. With her ear up against the door, Luci was clearly listening in on their conversation and didn't want them to know that. Hesitantly, Queen Dice pressed her own ear against the door, listening closely to what was being said behind the door.

"Of course they don't want us around, Mugsy, they hate us."

"I know... I just thought... With Elder Kettle gone..."

"We just have one month, then we can leave..."

"You're right... You're absolutely right... Why would they want us to stay...?"

Queen Dice looked at Luci, the demon clearly baring a heavy heart. She sighed as she walked on to her throne room, Dice in tow.

"Boss?"

"They think we hate them... Sure... I did... But that was before..." Lucifer sat upon her throne, placing her face in her hands. “Now… It’s different.”

"They need to know that we don't, dear." Queen Dice made an effort to add a little comfort to this situation.

"How can I... We... Let them know that we don't?" Luci mumbled.

"We could always just... Tell them."

The Devil sat up for a moment thinking, her gaze was unfocused as she was deep in thought. Though it wasn't long before her eyebrows creased, her expression full of doubt.

"What... What was it that you wanted to ask me?" Lucifer asked, her gaze trailing up to Dice.

"Oh uhm... I..." Queen Dice cleared her throat, her green eyes darting back and fourth across the room. "It's... It's nothin'..."

"It sure doesn't seem like nothing."

"I promise it's nothing. Absolutely nothing you need to worry about. Just a stupid thought." Queen Dice chuckled.

The Devil tilted her head to one side, her doubt being replaced with concern.

"I... I gotta go... Do something..." Dice backed up and turned on her heel to go to her room.

Slamming the door shut behind her, she covered her face with her hands. It was so confusing, Luci was one of the only people she felt that she could have a normal conversation with; yet here she was, struggling to share what was so bothersome. 

It wasn't long before there was a gentle knock at her door.

"Dice...? Is... Is everything ok? Do you need to talk?"

Queen Dice let in a shaky breath, her emotions finally tearing her guard down.

"Yes." She said as the tears began.