#he snapped his horn in a bar fight

[dromaeo-sauridae]

*sigh of relief* i finally drew him again

[lucifersgirl]

Some Halloween legends say that demons will walk among people.

Imagine Reader meeting Lucifer Morningstar on Halloween night; he’s so alluring in the midst of everyone in their costumes.

“I like your ringmaster costume. It stands out.”

He grins. All of his teeth look so sharp in the moonlight. Was it part of his costume?

“So does your Devil costume.”

“Thank you. I love Halloween.”

(Could be SFW or NSFW if you want.)

I LOVE THIS!! Keep these amazing requests coming, my friends!! Enjoy!!

Happy Sinful Sunday by the way ;)

Halloween

⚠️WARNING⚠️ - THIS WRITING CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. SMUT BELOW. MDNI.

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As you opened the door to the party, the smell of cheap perfume, booze and cigarettes came rushing to your nose. Vampires, werewolves and other various creatures roamed around the room, dancing and laughing. You yourself were dressed as a devil. Your short dress was swaying as you walked to the bar, faux tail bouncing and horned headband sitting proudly atop your head.

“What can I get you, ma’am?” The bartender, who was dressed as a zombie, asked you.

You ordered your usual and, after you received it, took a long sip.

A man walked up to the bar and took a seat beside you. “I’ll have whatever she’s having,” he said.

The bartender nodded and walked off.

“I like your ringmaster costume. It stands out,” you complimented him.

He grinned. All of his teeth looked so sharp in the moonlight. Was it part of his costume?

“So does your Devil costume,” he nodded at your attire.

“Thank you. I love Halloween.” You took another sip of your drink, your mind relaxing as the alcohol kicked in. “What’s your name?” You asked curiously.

He smiled that toothy smile of his again. “Lucifer. Pleasure to meet you, my dear.” He held out his hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied as you took his hand. “I’m ______.”

“Well, hi, ______,” he said, taking a sip of the drink he had ordered. He shuddered. “Oh, man,” he laughed, “that’s good.”

You giggled. “Strong too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he laughed again.

You spent a few more minutes talking, laughing together at the bar. You had both ordered three more drinks.

Lucifer moved his hand to your knee. “I’d like to take you home,” he slurred.

“Be my guest,” you flirted, finishing your last drink and standing up.

Lucifer linked arms with you and walked with you out the door.

“My place is just around the corner,” you told him. “We can go there.”

Lucifer nodded before moving his arm around your waist. “Alright with me.”

————————

When you finally arrived at your place and locked the door behind you, Lucifer pulled you in for a kiss. He groaned, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip. He smiled against your lips when you granted him access. Your clothes seemed to disappear as your tongues wrestled with each other, each one fighting for dominance.

“Wait a minute,” you pushed him backwards. “Do you have a split tongue?”

Lucifer grinned before he stuck his tongue out. “Wanna see what it can do?” He asked in a sultry tone.

You nodded, smiling cheekily. You led him to your bed before collapsing onto it.

Lucifer pushed you even further up the mattress before picking your thighs up and resting them on his shoulders. He pressed a few teasing kisses to your thighs before kissing your cunt.

You moaned in want, earning a chuckle from the man between your legs.

Lucifer immediately dove into your cunt, sucking on your sensitive nub and licking stripes up your clit. His tongue slipped in and your of your hole quickly. He moaned at the taste of you, suckling on your every part.

You whined, the coil in your stomach snapping. “L-Lucifer!” You cried as you came undone on his tongue. You ground against his tongue, riding out your orgasm.

Lucifer groaned, not letting a single drop of your cum go to waste. After you had calmed down, Lucifer set your thighs down.

You finally got a look at Lucifer’s dick. “God,” you whispered.

He giggled. “Is it up to your standards, ______?”

You nodded, now creeping towards the man. You took Lucifer’s cock in your hand and stroked it a few times before pressing a kiss to his tip.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his head tilting back slightly. “That’s-ahm-that’s nice…” His moans increased in pitch, turning into whines and whimpers as pleasure overtook him.

You licked at his slit, effectively teasing him. You stroked the parts of his cock you couldn’t fit in your mouth and gripped his balls in your hand, squeezing them slightly.

Lucifer gasped, his hands fisting the sheets. “Mnnh!” He whimpered as his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him. “Oh, ______! I-AH!-I’m gonna-MPH!-I’m gonna cum! Oh, fffuuuuuuck!” He cried, bucking his hips up as his own coil snapped.

You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on swallowing the seed that filled your mouth. You sucked him off through his orgasm, riding him through it. Once Lucifer’s hips stopped bucking wildly and he had calmed down, you pulled off of him. “Feel good, handsome?” You asked him teasingly.

He nodded, a blush spreading over his face. “Lay back, darling,” he said breathlessly, gently pushing you down on the bed. “It’s my turn to play.”

You giggled, reluctantly laying down.

Lucifer climbed on top of you, his eyes glazed over with lust. He put on a condom, a small gasp leaving his lips as he gently touched his sensitive dick. He gripped his length, slowly rubbing it against your dripping cunt. He finally slipped his tip into your waiting hole, a groan leaving his lips as his head tipped back a bit.

You gasped as Lucifer thrusted into you slowly, his cock reaching deeper into you each time he pushes in. “Oh, god…” you moaned as he bottomed out inside of you, his length filing you up completely.

“Oh, you feel so good,” Lucifer groaned, his hands gripping your hips harshly. His face was contorted in pleasure, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if he were focusing. “D-d’ya need a mi-minute?” He gasped as your pussy clenched around him involuntarily.

You shook your head ‘no’. “‘m ready, Lucifer.”

Lucifer nodded as he pulled halfway out. He thrusted into your cunt, a moan escaping the both of you. He bit his lip, a trickle of blood flowing out. He took one of his hands and placed it above your head, leaning over you and pressing kisses to your neck, sucking gently.

You whined lowly as Lucifer continued to thrust into you. “Oh, fuck, Luci~!” You moan as his dick hits that spongy spot inside of your cunt.

“I-Ahm!-I like that title,” he moaned into your ear, pressing a kiss there as well.

You took his face in your hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Your tongues fought each other once more as you drank in each other’s moans.

“Hugnh, ______! I’m g-gonna-ANGH!-cum! Oh, fuck! MPH!” He whimpered, the coil in his stomach building up once more.

“I’m c-close, t-AHM-too, Luci! Oh, FUCK!” You cried out as you came on Lucifer’s cock, cunt spasming around his length.

“Fffffuuuuuuuck, YES!” Lucifer nearly screamed as his second orgasm of the night ripped through him. He bit your neck as he ground into you, riding both you and himself through your orgasms.

When the both of you had calmed down, you tilted your head to look at Lucifer.

“Round two?”

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[stressed-and-fluff-obsessed]

Hi! I couldn’t find your request but I believe @hatsumiikun requested Lee!Alastor and Ler!Lucifer so here you go!

Long Time Rivalry

Summary: Alastor and Lucifer are fighting again so to prevent the two from tearing apart the hotel Charlie locks them both in a room, chaos ensues

Small T.W: Swearing‼️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s wrong babe?” Vaggie asked Charlie who was slumped in a chair reading over some reports, “Nothing it’s just…with the next extermination coming up and my dad moving into the hotel things have just been stressful.” Charlie muttering leaning into Vaggie’s embrace as the fallen angel hugged her, “it’ll be okay. We’ll get through this.” Vaggie reassured and just as she did a loud crash came from downstairs.

Looking at each other in confusion Vaggie and Charlie rushed out the door and down into the lobby where they heard the noise and saw not an uncommon sight too much anymore.

Husker and Angel were standing behind the bar counter while Niffty stood on top, and Alastor and Lucifer? They were fighting. Like usual.

“Dad really?” Charlie called and got Lucifer’s attention, “Come on Char Char it’s too fun to mess with this bellhop!” Lucifer grinned and summoned his six wings, flapping up to the chandelier and perching up there.

“Can’t get me up here can you Bambi~” Lucifer taunted Alastor whose ears curved back, his eyes turned to radio dials and his antlers grew to show his displeasure, “What? Is Bambi a little angry?” Lucifer teased and Alastor’s whole body started growing as a low inhuman growl emitted from his mouth and black shadowy tendrils started snaking out from his back.

“Alastor! Not here!” The sound of Charlie’s voice made one of his ears rise showing he heard and followed the sound of the voice, visibly flinching as he saw how the colors of her eyes switched and two red protruding horns showed on her head and he noticed how Lucifer flinched as well as he saw her.

“You two will tear apart the whole hotel if you keep this up!” She growled as Alastor shrank to his normal size and his eyes went back to normal and Lucifer flew to the ground and folded his wings back as Charlie marched over and grabbed both of them by the arms and dragged them into the hall.

“Ooooo y’all are in trouble now!” Angel called after them earning a smack over the head from Vaggie.

~*~

“Charlie where are you taking us?” Alastor questioned but was quickly silenced as she turned around and shot him an icy glare.

Finally after what felt like forever she dragged them to Lucifer’s room and sent them both inside but before closing the door she told them, “You two are going to stay in here until you get along and heaven help me if I come back to find the room destroyed I’m going to be mad.” Charlie snapped at them, shutting the door and marching down the hall back to the lobby.

Back in the room with the boys they quickly settled in spots far away from one another, “Just so you know the only reason I’m not attacking you is to make Char Char happy, not at all for your benefit Bambi.” Lucifer sneered, “As am I.” Alastor sneered right back.

This was going to be a long get-along session.

~*~

Eventually they found ways to entertain themselves, and food came in when they requested it but it took a lot longer than Vaggie and Charlie anticipated, they had stayed in there for two days already and still no signs of progress, until one day a new discovery was made.

It was just a normal day, wake up, get ready and then proceed to completely ignore each other until food arrived and go about their day to day activities in the room. “Why are you standing so close to me?” Alastor snarled as he stood beside the King of Hell in a window overlooking Pentagram City. “I’m standing close to you? I was here first Bellhop!” Lucifer shot right back, elbowing Alastor in the ribs but he didn’t expect the deer demon to stumble away with a growl, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Alastor…what was that?” Lucifer asked, a mischievous grin starting to make its way onto his face as Alastor back away a few more paces, “It was nothing, just forget it Your Majesty.” Alastor spoke, beginning to walk away from Lucifer.

“Oh yeah? If it was nothing then why are you walking away from me? Are you afraid~?” Lucifer taunted and that was the stick that poked the bear because at that moment Alastor whipped around to glare at Lucifer who was now grinning like a fox.

“What did you just say?” Alastor growled, eyes turning to radio dials as he approached the King of Hell. “You heard me.” Lucifer growled right back and suddenly tackled Alastor, the two of the wrestling like kids on the floor, “G-Gehet off me!” Alastor snarled but couldn’t help but laugh a little at the silliness of the situation.

“Not yet Bambi!” Lucifer exclaimed, wrestling with Alastor a moment more before shoving him flat on his back on the rug, straddling his thighs to keep him in place and grinning in victory.

“Get off me.” Alastor snapped, “Mmmmm no.” Lucifer snapped right back, grinning cheekily as he raised his hands and wiggled his fingers at Alastor, grinning brightly as the deer demon flinched away from the motion. “Never pegged you as the ticklish type Bellhop~” Lucifer taunted, smirking as Alastor growled again.

“You know you really should show me a bit more respect, I am your king after all~” Lucifer teased before bringing his hands down to give Alastor’s ribs an experimental squeeze, smiling in satisfaction at the harsh flinch it received.

“Bad spot?” Lucifer pondered, getting his answer as Alastor’s eyes narrowed, “Okay then we’ll leave this spot for later shall we?” Lucifer chirped before changing spots and prodding and scratching over the fabric covering Alastor’s stomach making the Radio Demon double over with a wobbly grin, “D-Dohohon’t.” Alastor tried to sound threatening but couldn’t as he still fought the wave of laughter that threatened to burst through.

“Awww but why not?” Lucifer mock-pouted, switching to scribble over the length of his sides making Alastor jerk away from the touch with a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a concealed laugh. “What’s the matter Bambi? Too scared to insult me again?” Lucifer grinned as Alastor growled again and shut his eyes, still fighting off laughter.

“F-Fuhuck you Your Hihighness!” Alastor snapped at him, nearly breaking at Lucifer’s mock-offended gasp, “You know that wasn’t very nice Bellhop, maybe you should be punished for that.” Lucifer tried to sound scary but couldn’t help the large grin splitting his face as Alastor yelled out a protest before crumbling into laughter as Lucifer attacked his bony ribs.

“How do you like that!” Lucifer taunted, bringing his hands around to scratch at the back of Alastor’s ribs that made the radio filter in Alastor’s voice slip a little and was replaced by a loud sound of radio static in the air.

“Fuhuhuck you and stahahahap!!” Alastor pressed out through his giggle fit. “Wow that wasn’t very nice Bambi, maybe I should do something about that hmm?” Lucifer hummed, grinning like a kid who just received the best birthday present of his life.

Ever so slowly he kept one tickling hand on Alastor’s ribs and with the other hand used two fingers to walk up to the top of Alastor’s head and the deer demon immediately caught on and started squirming in an attempt to keep the King’s hands away from that dreaded spot.

“Quit squirming Bambi you’re messing up my rhythm!” Lucifer mock-scolded, using his tickling hand to shoot up and scratch at Alastor’s underarm while the two fingers continued walking upwards.

Alastor growled right as Lucifer’s hand reached the base of his ears and started gently scratching at the fluff there, with one more scorning look at Lucifer Alastor’s ears bent back and a small whine escaped him before giggling madly as his ears were playfully attacked.

“Aww does this tickle? Not so dangerous now are ya?” Lucifer teased, relishing in the way Alastor opened his eyes and glared at him before being thrown into another fit of laughter as Lucifer’s hand that was previously attacking his underarm moved to his neck to flutter there keeping Alastor in a fit of hysterical giggles.

Alastor endured the soft tickles for a moment more, and would deny to his double death that he’d actually enjoyed it before jerking hard and switching to cackling madly as he felt something soft and feathered brush up against one of his hooves.

“Haha! Bet you didn’t expect this did ya Bambi!” Lucifer’s jolly voice spoke and the Radio Demon cracked one eye open and looked at Lucifer but his attention wasn’t on the devil’s stupid face, it was on the large red and white wings protruding from his back that were currently attacking his hooves.

The sound of microphone feedback filled the air as it cut out a moment later and was replaced by loud laughter. “F-FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!!” Alastor cackled as one of his worst spots was targeted along with his ears but that quickly changed as Lucifer’s hands switched from his ears to trace gently along his antlers as Alastor’s laughter became increasingly more desperate.

“Give it up Bambi! I’m not stopping till you tap out!” Lucifer challenged with a grin, watching as panic flickered across Alastor’s face for a moment before it was gone again and just as he suspected, a few seconds later through Alastor’s cackling fit he felt a familiar tapping on his upper arm, Alastor was giving up.

With a jolly laugh Lucifer stood and flapped off of him, standing close by to check if he was okay. “You okay there bud?” Lucifer asked, still sounding prideful but Alastor didn’t miss the slightly concerned edge as he lay there catching his breath.

Finally after what felt like forever, Alastor sat up, opened his eyes and flipped Lucifer off with an equally challenging grin before bursting out laughing after seeing Lucifer’s mock-offended face before fallen angel tackled him back onto the rug.

~~~~

“It’s been 3 days, do you think they’re okay?” Vaggie asked as she and Charlie walked down the hall to Lucifer’s room where they were still being kept.

“Oh yeah I have no doubt they’re okay, but the room I’m not so sure, it’s not like they get along the best but that’s why they’re in there.” Charlie replied with a hopeful grin.

When they finally reached the door they heard a crash followed by a muffled curse, looking at each other Vaggie and Charlie sighed and pushed open the door but was met with an entirely unexpected sight.

Lucifer and Alastor were wrestling on the floor but they weren’t being serious, they were play fighting. Lucifer’s wings were out and they were flapping as he tousled with Alastor and Alastor wore his signature grin but it actually seemed genuine like he was having fun! Vaggie stood there, jaw slack at the new sight and Charlie stood there with a delighted look on her face and when he the two noticed them they scrambled to stand up.

“The room’s not destroyed and you two are getting along! Congratulations! I’m proud, you two are free to go!” Charlie chirped but Lucifer glanced at Alastor and Alastor glanced at Lucifer. “Thanks kiddo we did need this and we’ll be down in a sec, just as soon as I kick Bambi’s ass here for being disrespectful!” Lucifer challenged, “Right back at you Your Majesty.” Alastor challenged right back.

“Okay then just be sure not to kill each other!” Charlie grinned, shutting the door and right afterwards a laugh sounded followed by a crash and muffled curses but Charlie and Vaggie knew they weren’t going to hurt each other, but they learned another thing that night.

They had a new trust exercise for the rest of the group to try.

(Woah this one was fun, sorry if it’s long or cringe I tried :’) )

(And sorry about the wait, I’ve been swamped with schoolwork but I hope you enjoyed! ^^)

[kimmie2me]

# 01. New Beginnings

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

.....

The buzz of the precinct was a steady hum, a living organism that shifted and grew louder with each burst of activity. Officers hustled past in crisp uniforms, phones rang with persistent urgency, and the air was laced with the faint, acrid smell of burnt coffee that had been sitting in the pot for far too long. You stood in the middle of it all, a rigid statue amidst the chaos, feeling the weight of the day settle in your chest like a stone. The knot of tension between your shoulders tightened with every sideways glance from your colleagues, their whispered conversations just loud enough to remind you that today, you were the center of attention—for all the wrong reasons.

Not long ago, this place felt different. Just weeks ago, you were the fresh-faced rookie who bounced into the station with Officer Kaminari Denki at your side, your shared laughter echoing down the halls like a melody too carefree for the sterile walls of a police department. Kaminari had a way of making even the longest shifts bearable, with his jokes that teetered dangerously on the edge of bad taste and his habit of turning everything into a game. You’d spent countless hours patrolling the streets together, the two of you in sync as you navigated the tangled mess of Musutafu’s bustling districts. It wasn’t glamorous work—breaking up bar fights, issuing citations to street racers who sped down city blocks like they were in Fast & Furious—but it was yours, and you owned every second of it with the reckless energy only a rookie could have.

But things change. Oh, do they change. What started as a routine day had spiraled into the kind of catastrophe that earned headlines and made chiefs reach for antacids. You and Kaminari were on patrol near the West Quarter, an area known for its perpetual state of barely-contained chaos. It had been uneventful enough, the kind of shift that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, fate would let you off easy for once. But then came the call: a potential lead on a wanted criminal, one whose record read like the script of an action-thriller film, all high-stakes heists and narrow escapes.

Kaminari’s eyes had gleamed with a spark of adventure, the look of someone who lived for the thrill. You matched it, your own pulse quickening with a mixture of nerves and excitement. This was it—a chance to prove you weren’t just the department’s newest pair of boots on the ground. But what you hadn’t counted on was how easily anticipation could slip into arrogance.

The details from that day were a patchwork quilt of half-formed memories, stitched together with regret. The flash of silver as the suspect’s car screeched around the corner burned bright in your mind, a ghostly echo of metal and adrenaline that haunted your thoughts. It had been a chase you thought you were prepared for—a chance to prove yourself in the field, to show everyone you weren’t just another rookie stumbling through the ranks. The road ahead blurred into a tapestry of city chaos: blaring horns, the red glare of brake lights, and the murmur of bystanders caught between rubbernecking and fleeing.

“L/N, we’re losing him!” Kaminari’s voice crackled through the radio, panic simmering beneath the urgency. His fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly you could see the strain in his knuckles, pale against the dark vinyl. He glanced at you, golden eyes wide with the kind of nervous energy you’d come to recognize as both infectious and reckless.

“I’ve got this,” you’d snapped, more to yourself than to him, your heart pounding a war drum rhythm in your chest. The street was tight with the mid-morning rush; cars inched along bumper to bumper, creating a narrow, suffocating maze. But your eyes locked on the gap forming between a lumbering delivery truck and a black SUV. It was risky, sure—your mind whispered don’t—but the scent of opportunity tasted too sweet to ignore.

Before Kaminari could protest, you jerked the wheel to the right, forcing your way into the lane. Tires screamed, rubber burned, and a wave of curses surged up from drivers as you narrowly dodged mirrors and hoods. You swore you could feel Kaminari’s gaze slicing through you, disbelief painted across his face as he yelled, “L/N, what the hell are you—”

The words died in the air as the chain reaction began. The delivery truck’s driver, caught off guard by your maneuver, slammed the brakes, the cab lurching forward and back like an angry beast. Behind him, the screech of brakes was a symphony of panic, a cacophony that would play in your mind on a loop for days. You saw it unfold in slow motion—the delivery truck veering left, clipping a sedan that skidded across two lanes before colliding headfirst into an oncoming car. The domino effect fanned out from there: one crash begetting another, the crunch of metal on metal, shouts turning to screams. The suspect’s car disappeared into the chaos, a silver blur swallowed by the pandemonium.

You froze. For a heartbeat, your entire world contracted into a pinpoint, a silence so complete that even Kaminari’s frantic voice sounded distant, as though you were underwater. The air was electric with the scent of burnt rubber and gasoline, the morning light turning the shattered glass into tiny prisms scattered across the asphalt. The initial shock dulled, replaced by a crushing wave of realization that gripped your lungs and refused to let go.

“L/N!” Kaminari’s voice shattered through the noise, dragging you back to the moment. He had abandoned the car, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame. You followed, your legs heavy as lead, your breath a stuttering mess. Around you, people shouted and ran, their faces blurring into one incomprehensible mass of fear and confusion.

“What were you thinking!?” Kaminari grabbed your arm, eyes wild with anger and fear that sent a bolt of guilt straight through your chest. He wasn’t Kaminari "your friend" now; he was Officer Kaminari, forced into damage control because you’d gone rogue. You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came. What could you say? The weight of your decision pressed down like an iron hand on your back, making you feel as though the ground itself might crack open and swallow you whole.

“I—I thought…” Your voice trailed off, lost in the din of sirens that were now piercing the air, flashing lights painting streaks of red and blue across the carnage. The scene you’d created was one out of a nightmare: cars tangled like twisted vines, smoke curling up from crumpled hoods, a woman leaning against her steering wheel, dazed and bleeding from her forehead. The suspect was long gone, his escape cemented by the very maneuver you’d convinced yourself would make you a hero.

Kaminari’s expression softened just enough to let exhaustion seep in. “You thought what, L/N?” he whispered, as if the fight had been drained out of him, replaced with the hollow ache of disappointment. “You thought this was worth it?”

Before you could respond, Chief Toshinori Yagi arrived, flanked by other officers. His face was a masterclass in controlled fury, a storm masked by stoic calm. He didn’t need to say anything—his eyes, lined with the weight of years spent leading rookies like you, spoke volumes. He took in the scene, the wreckage, and the panic, and when his gaze finally met yours, it was like staring into the eye of a hurricane.

“Get those people medical attention,” he ordered, voice steady but clipped, before turning to you and Kaminari. His brow furrowed, the hard line of his jaw tightening. “Inside. Now.”

The aftermath was a blur of reprimands and reports, a haze of sterile office lighting and your own shaking hands as you scrawled down every excruciating detail of your failure. Every line, every word was another twist of the knife, another reminder that this was all you. Your reckless choice. Your mistake.

....

And as you sat across from Chief Yagi, whose patience and grace seemed boundless even now, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. The lines on his face seemed deeper, the gray at his temples somehow more pronounced.

“You’re a good officer, L/N,” he said finally, the weight of disappointment turning his voice rough. “But being good isn’t enough when lives are at stake. Mistakes like this cost more than reputations—they cost trust. The question is, how do you plan to earn that back?”

There was no easy answer, no way to smooth over the raw edges of the guilt carving its way through you. You lifted your head, throat tight but voice steady. “I’ll prove it, sir.”

And in the silence that followed, the echo of your promise resonated with a determination tempered by regret. The kind that comes only when you know there’s no one to blame but yourself.

“You’re better than this,” he had said, voice low but unwavering. It was those four words, more than anything else, that threatened to undo you. Because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d spent the rest of that week in a haze of paperwork, back-to-back debriefings, and whispers that followed you like a shadow. Even Kaminari’s reassurances did little to break through the barrier of guilt that fenced you in.

“Officer L/N,” Yagi began, leaning forward with the practiced authority of someone who’d delivered both commendations and condemnations in equal measure. His fingers tapped lightly on the desk, a slow, rhythmic beat that matched the thrumming of your pulse. “The events of last week were…” He paused, searching for the word. “Unfortunate. But I believe in second chances.”

You blinked, not quite trusting your ears. “Sir?”

He sighed, the weight of leadership momentarily softening the hard lines of his face. “I know the kind of officer you are. This job isn’t just a career to you—it’s a calling. That mistake, as costly as it was, doesn’t erase your potential.” He let the words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “But redemption isn’t handed out on a silver platter. It’s earned.”

A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, quickly tempered by the reality of what was coming next. The chief’s gaze sharpened, a glint of steely resolve slicing through the air.

“I’m reassigning you,” he continued, the finality in his voice sending a jolt of anticipation—and dread—down your spine. That sounded better than handing over your badge. “You’ll be working under Detective Bakugou.” ...Or not.

The room fell into an eerie silence, the kind that stretches on so long it makes you doubt you’ve heard correctly. Your brain scrambled to make sense of it, latching onto the name like it was a live wire. Detective Katsuki Bakugou. The most volatile, unyielding, and infamously difficult officer in the entire precinct. A man who’d sent even seasoned detectives into early retirement with nothing more than his sharp tongue and a glare that could strip paint from walls. This was who Yagi thought you should work with?

“Sir,” you started, carefully masking the quiver in your voice with a layer of forced composure. “I’m not sure that’s… necessary.” You glanced at the brass nameplate on the chief’s desk, as though it might offer some divine wisdom. “Perhaps Officer Kirishima or—”

“No.” Yagi’s tone cut through your protest like a blade. “This isn’t a punishment, Officer L/N. It’s a proving ground. If you want to keep your badge, you’ll show me—and yourself—that you can handle this.” His expression softened, but the resolve remained. “Detective Bakugou is demanding, yes. But he’s one of our best. If you can hold your own with him, then you’ll prove that you deserve to wear that uniform.”

Your mouth opened, words failing as the full weight of what he was asking settled over you like a heavy cloak. The silence that followed was answer enough. Chief Yagi’s eyes met yours, the smallest hint of encouragement in their depths. It was that unspoken trust that twisted in your chest, somewhere between hope and resignation.

“Understood, Chief,” you said finally, the words tasting foreign on your tongue. The choice was clear, even if it wasn’t easy: face Bakugou Katsuki and whatever trials came with him, or hand in your badge and let the dream you’d clung to slip through your fingers.

The corners of Yagi’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile but close enough to suggest approval. “Good,” he said. “Report to him at 0900 tomorrow." You nod and get And, Officer?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t let him scare you off. Show him what you’re made of.”

Oh. If only it was that easy..

As you left the office, the noise of the precinct crashed over you, louder and more chaotic than before. And somewhere in the back of your mind, beneath the nerves and uncertainty, a spark of determination lit up, defiant and unyielding.

....

The next morning, you pushed open the station doors, the familiar jingle of the bell above ringing out like the start of a death march. The precinct was as loud and bustling as ever, but today, the noise had an edge to it—a buzz of anticipation and gossip that seemed to latch onto you the second you stepped inside. A few officers glanced up from their desks, whispers trailing behind you like cigarette smoke, seeping into your ears despite your attempts to ignore them. You clenched your jaw, shoulders squaring with a false bravado that you didn’t quite feel. The corridor stretched ahead, a gauntlet to run before facing whatever fate awaited you.

As you approached, you heard raised voices filtering through the office door—Chief Yagi’s calm tone clashing with Bakugou’s explosive indignation.

“Y’can’t be serious, Yagi! I’m not babysittin’ some rookie!” Bakugou’s frustration echoed, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter of the precinct. "Especially not one who’s a fuckin’ hazard!”

“Bakugou, you need a partner,” Yagi replied, his authority clear. “You’ve had too many clashes with your past partners, and I think she’d be perfect for you. She’s got potential and could learn from the best. It’s a win-win!”

“Yeah, right! A win for who? Not me! I don’t need some extra newbie screwing things up for me!” Bakugou spat, clearly unimpressed.

“Trust me on this,” Yagi insisted. “You’re going to be a great team. Just give it a chance.”

The door swung open as you stepped into the scene, and you saw them: Chief Yagi stood with arms crossed, his sharp gaze meeting yours with a nod of acknowledgment. Beside him, Bakugou looked like a live grenade with the pin half-pulled. He stood with his weight on one leg, tapping a foot so aggressively you were surprised the floor hadn’t cracked. His eyes blazed with an intensity that could sear skin, and the muscles in his jaw clenched hard enough to splinter bone.

Great. Just great.

The second Bakugou’s crimson glare zeroed in on you, it felt like the world narrowed to that singular look, full of disdain and barely leashed rage. If a stare could detonate, you’d be nothing but cinders.

“Y’late, newbie,” Bakugou snarled, venom dripping from his words.

You raise an eyebrow as you check your watch, frowning. “What? But... it’s 8:58—”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” Bakugou cut in, stepping forward with an intensity that made even seasoned officers flinch. “Two minutes might as well be ten in my book. Y’think suspects wait ’round for ya t’ decide you’re ready t’ do your damn job?”

“Detective,” Yagi warned, his voice smooth but firm, wrapping authority around Bakugou’s outburst. It was enough to make the blond pause, if only for a breath, before he rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Whatever,” Bakugou spat, the word like a hot brand. He turned back to you, eyes narrowing to slits. “Listen up, rookie. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re the Chief’s charity case or if he thinks you’ve got potential. You screw up on my watch, and I’ll make sure ya wish you’d handed in your badge yesterday.”

The threat hung in the air like gunpowder. You swallowed hard, keeping your chin up even as the knot of anxiety in your gut twisted tighter. “Understood, Detective.” Your tone was forced, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Good,” he said, voice dropping to a growl. “Now move your ass. We’re already behind schedule thanks t’ you.”

With a nod from Chief Yagi that could almost pass as sympathy, you fell into step behind Bakugou, your heart a thrum of nerves and defiance. The day hadn’t even started, and already, you knew that facing Bakugou was going to be the kind of trial that either made or broke you.

But if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that you didn’t come this far to break. Not now, and definitely not because of some bomb-tempered detective who thought he could scare you into quitting.

Bakugou didn’t glance back as he stalked toward the exit, barking over his shoulder, “Keep up, rookie, or I’ll drag your sorry ass out there myself.”

Yeah, this was going to be hell.

[briarberrythornedhart]

Prompted by: “sitting in his lap would probably fix me”

“Hey!” Eddie snapped his fingers in your direction. “You’ve got initiative, what’s your move?”

It works, his long, strong, fingers are able to snap you out of the near fugue state you’d been in, just staring at the dungeon master and lusting after him with every fiber of your being, pining because he is so close and so far away and sooo unattainable. You clear your throat.

“I try to reason with…”

All the groans from the other players and the slap of Gareth’s hand to his face suddenly overwhelm you with noise and you feel ever so slightly unwelcome again.

They weren’t gatekeeper-misogynists at all and had welcomed you without prejudice - they’d had girl members before so you were nothing new… but your wanting to solve everything through non-violence was getting on even sweet Grant’s last nerve. He’s biting his nails, which you know means he’s losing his cool too.

“Silence!” Eddie commands the other players. He leans your way from his perch in his throne. “They are goblins. You don’t speak goblin, they are going to attack you…” It’s a teeny bit patronizing. He is equal parts threatening and pleading with you. Warning you he can’t save you from yourself. He isn’t going to go easy on you. He isn’t the type and that has only intensified your crush on him.

“You have the perfect spell…” Lucas points to the relevant spell on your character sheet. Max’s boyfriend is hoping to smooth things over, help you make a good decision, for the good of the party.

But you are relentless. “They are not mindless zombies, they have language and art. They live in villages and raise their children. You can’t tell me they are evil because of their... genetics. It’s the god Maglubiyet who is the real villian.”

Eddie smiles but it is 40% grimace. “I agree with you.... and Whilst I respect your commitment to your alignment and your character, you know you can’t personally resolve milennia-old war between the Goblins and....everyone. And you are running out of time, one is raising a horn to his mouth....”

“I bend down and draw in the dirt road - I draw a box...” You sketch your idea on some loose notebook paper from your journal. “With three stick figures in it, and then draw jail bars over the stick figures.”

Eddie watches you - bemused - as you attempt to negotiate a hostage exchange via cartoons drawn in dirt.

He nods, lips set in the smirk that usually means he’s contemplating a rug pull. “The Goblins look at your drawings. Their mouths hang open. One scratches his protruding belly. One nudges the other with his elbow. Dustin, you rolled next highest Initiative. What do you do?”

You know Dustin has your back. And Lucas will probably want to see how your gambit plays out. But Gareth sneaks up behind the goblins and captures them and everything devolves into violence from there.

Jeff ends up with a Goblin speared on his sword, Grant gets an injury you’ll have to heal next game. No one seems pleased. You feel like you’ve been through the Kobayashi Maru test.

Eddie calls a break for pizza and asks you to hang back for a second.

This is when I get kicked out for ruining the game for everyone, You think.

“You are working through something, aren’t you?” Eddie is hugging his knees in his throne. He is threading his pointer finger through the worn holes in his jeans and popping the threads.

“What?”

“Well, you have been staring... like eyes unfocused and hands clenched and - like - it’s totally okay you don’t want to fight. It’s not all about dungeon crawls and fighting baddies... but if you need to talk about... it. Whatever it is - I’m here. You know.... I c-care. Okay? We’re friends - I want you to know I’ll support you.”

“That’s sweet.” It is - it stings like a slap that you are only ever going to be friends, but it’s sweet too. Sweet-Bitter.

Eddie sighs, looks down and then back up at you through his messy curls, “You know, sometimes I think you’d be happier as dungeon master. You wanna try running a one-shot sometime? See if you’d like it?”

You laugh, “As if you’d share your throne.” You tease. He’s got you all wrong. You don’t want to be in control. You just want him to tell you to do different things. Put you in different situations. Hellfire Club has gotten so much more difficult lately because you can’t stop thinking about Eddie and wanting him in every way.

“I totally would.” Eddie looks faux hurt. He scoots himself to the side in the throne, closes his legs together like he NEVER does and brings his hands in to shove between his knees, leaving you maybe 6-8 inches of space. “Look, I can make room.”

“That’s not enough room for my ass.” You shake your head, smiling. Probably blushing, you feel the heat on your cheeks.

You measure your hips and hold up your hands to show him.

You think he probably doesn’t notice that you bite your lip whenever he is this close. You can just catch the scent of his leather jacket and his aftershave or deodorant whatever it is that makes you want to tear his Hellfire club shirt off with your teeth?? Whatever it is, It’s delicious.

“I see your point. You’re just gonna have to sit in my lap.” He shrugs. Smirks. Pats his thigh.

[courtingchaos]

Wooo I’m feeling some kind of way recently. Stress will do that to you.

A/N: this is fluff but seriously, no minors. I mean it.

But like, paint this picture with me.

Older Eddie (Professor Munson in my imaging), remembering all the things that make you happy. He notices you’re upset because job stuff and you’re having a hard time being in your 30’s and he gets it. It wasn’t that long ago he was there and he’s been watching you ghost around the townhouse for a week. Hair clipped up and the same pajamas you’ve had on for at least three days. He still trips over himself to see you though, even unwashed and snapping and sad. Every day he comes home and searches for you, and every day this week he’s found you in the spare room you’ve slowly turned into your space.

He’s told you he’ll clear it out and get you real office furniture but that makes you sink deeper into your depression. You talk about not being able to pay him back and he’s never once expected that.

You don’t have to. He doesn’t want you to. Let him do something for you. He just wants you to feel better.

And maybe that starts a fight because he’s already got his career and his friends and his money and his home. You’re floating in a job you hate and looking for another one to bide your time in because you actually hate the degree you spent 7 years getting. You only did it to prove to everyone else you could and now?

Now you live off of your boyfriend in his big, expensive brownstone. He’s 12 years into his field and settled and also 25 years older than you.

So what is it? You only like charity cases or something? Gotta rescue the idiot?

He knows you’re mad. He knows you lash out like this. He knows you’ll push so that everyone else leaves and you can feel like you got left instead. So maybe he snaps back at you for a second. Reminds you if he didn’t want you living with him and dating him he could find someone more age appropriate (he says with an eye roll). When you stomp up the stairs to your room he yells up to you that if he didn’t love you and was 20 years younger he’d be throwing your shit out onto the pavement outside, damn the old money next door.

Maybe you avoid him till the weekend when he’s home the whole time. You haven’t slept in the same bed and you haven’t answered a single knock or text or FaceTime. He sends you little flower emojis and a string of stars. He finds a tiktok about the Mars rover that he knows you’ll want to see and sends you some screen shots of the new menu for the whiskey bar you two like to go to. While you were sleeping he slid into your room and left your Sunday morning fancy coffee on the nightstand and when you finally wake up and notice it, you can hear him moving around in the kitchen.

You still feel like shit but at least you know he isn’t kicking you out. You know he wouldn’t, not over a stupid fight like that but still. It’s when you’re wrapped up in your robe and heading down stairs to finally speak to him you notice the bedroom door open. The bedroom you normally sleep in, with a sticky note on it. An arrow pointing in with a smiley face and crudely drawn horns. On the bed there’s a little paper bag from the expensive soap place you rarely buy from and it seems Eddie has outdone himself again. The rose shower melts and the lemon soap and that stupid body pouf you like so much that smells like candy. If you cry about it in the shower you don’t tell him and he doesn’t bring up your puffy face when you finally pad into the kitchen.

He’s baking something, it smells sweet and you spot the split packaging of the orange cinnamon pillsbury rolls in the trash and you have to swallow the lump in your throat. He hates those so you know he ran these errands yesterday when he left for those few hours. Probably ran by the grocery store first and then into that boutique that he always complains smells too much. He pauses when he see you staring into the trash can, silent and still. Doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to try and catch your eye.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what to do about anything and I’m panicking.

He just shrugs and smiles. He gets it. He always gets it. There’s something in him that always gets your mood swings and that deep seated anger. He’s never asked you to try and snuff that flame out, just helps you tend it.

It’s a controlled burn. You gotta let it get all the kindling out so new shit can grow.

Eddie pulls you into a hug and you lean into him. Breathe him in slow to try and get that lump to go away. You thank him for your shower and then gesture sadly behind you at the oven and thank him for the cinnamon rolls you know he hates. He laughs and it rumbles against you. He hums along to the music and you tuck your head into his neck and realize he’s got Neil Young on. There’s an old man joke on the tip of your tongue but then he starts singing along to Harvest Moon and you shut up. The tears you’ve been holding in since getting out of the shower push up and over and stain your cheeks and wet his old tshirt and he just shushes you. Sways you against him until the timer goes off and he sways you over to the stove and manages to get the round pan out without burning either of you.

Maybe it’s a rainy day and the drops patter against the windows. Eddie knows you like the rain and he dances you across the living room so he can crack the window so you can hear it coming down.

Because I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again…

Sings quietly into your hair and tucks you up close and let’s you cry on his shoulder and when he feels you slowing down, taking those deep breaths to steady yourself, he pulls his phone out and replays the song so he can properly dance with you. He wants you to laugh so he holds your fingertip and first knuckle, acts like he’s playing a tiny harmonica. You giggle and he feels better, lighter. There’s color in your cheeks again and you’re looking him in the eye before you give him a kiss and drape back over him.

It’s cozy and it smells like cinnamon rolls and you’re swaying with him and you both are happy.

[thecluelessdoctor]

How would you write/rewrite Exes and Oohs? Aka. episode that exposes Moxxie's mafia backstory.

OH HELL YES OK

First let's start with what's wrong with the episode.

My major problem was that again, tone was terrible. It wanted a imitating tone anytime crimson was in screen, but it made him a fucking joke.

Chaz also felt lazy, like I don't mind a character that only cares about dicking down, its hell after all, but chaz felt like a terrible plot element for drama, especially because they made him be the ex of both Moxxie and Millie, which is just crappy. And how would Millie and Chaz meet?? We have no evidence Millie left wrath before joining IMP, same with Chaz. Chaz in general just didn't need to exist

So, how would I fix the episode?

It's not a bad episode, but it isn't good either. And for once backstory doesn't feel forced because Moxxie has been shown to be incredibly good with weapons, and know alot about them, so it kinda makes sense we was once apart of a mob.

Anyway

Rewriting the episode

The episode will begin the same, I.M.P getting a call to go to greed. Moxxie seems uncomfortable with the idea, but they go anyway.

They end up at crimson's place, crimson not being there, but they are instead greeted by someone of the mob who only refers to crimson as Boss. Moxxie recognizes the place instantly, and attempts to back down. Blitz being blitz, makes him go anyway.

The mob person brings them to a meeting room, with very little lighting other than the green light through the cracks though the curtain, a dark figure sitting behind a desk, a plume of smoke making it even harder to see who it was.

Moxxie seems almost scared as the trio is shoved in, and the door shuts behind them. Crimson, the figure behind the desk talks to them about why they are really there. He's very blunt and says he wants Moxxie.

Blitz objects, saying mox is one of his best employees. Crimson obviously isn't happy with this answer, and with a snap both Blitz and Millie are dragged out, leaving Moxxie in the room with Crimson.

The curtains are opened, allowing Moxxie to see crimson.

Crimson talks about what Moxxie cost the mob when he got caught, and then completely left the Mob for some cheap job. The mob was on Mammon's wanted his, and Moxxie was going to pay. Moxxie retaliates, threatening crimson. Crimson is unamused, and has Moxxie dragged away, and locked into a room separated from Millie and Blitz

Cut to Millie and blitz, who are in two separate rooms, stripped of any and all weapons. Blitz is trying to think of a way out. They couldn't get through the door, with it being locked and plenty of gangsters outside, that wasn't a option. The window wasn't a option from them either seeing how they were on the 2nd or 3rd story. Millie is in despair, desperately trying to break out.

Cut back to moxxie, who's on a first floor room, locked in, without any weapons. Luckily the person who through him in there didn't check for the window being locked or barred.

Moxxie escaped through the window, sneaking around outside. Luckily not to many gangsters were out. He had to find a way to get Millie and blitz out

Que him being caught, and completely bad ass fight scene because he deserves it. He takes the weapons off the Hellborne gangster. Now he had a way.

He had two guns, both full, and four mags, and a knife. He found another unlocked window that didn't lead to a room, and he broke back in, checking as many doors as he could.

He manages to find Blitz's room, and shoots the lock, alerting gangsters in the building. He gives a gun to blitz, as well as a mag. Que bad ass fighting scene

They manage to find Millie in the fit of battle. Moxxie tosses Millie the knife and more fighting.

They make their way out of the mansion, but not with our a encounter with crimson, who shoots Moxxie in the arm and horn. Very painful

Crimson claims he will get his revenge, planning to shoot Moxxie fatally, before blitz shoots him. Not accurately, but good enough to wound crimson enough to retreat. They steal a car, and attempt to get to the nearest hospital.

The episode ends with moxxie in a hospital with Millie beside him, asleep.

outro

THE END

Naming this episode 'Close Call'

[defensivelee]

Six Lives Won't Make You Happy: Thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me

A dog fight, a mock trial, a humiliating execution: James certainly has his schedule full this time around! He has decided there can only be one winner in each of these, but Bentinck and Mary have other plans, and so do others he would not expect, clawing at the edges of his heart. Victory seems inevitable with his enemy finally kneeling before him, but that's where he makes his first mistake...

Of course, here is the AO3 link! Please enjoy this one, I think it's my favorite so far.

CW: explicit violence (more than usual), torture, murder, death, use of guns, drowning, fire, heavy drug use, addiction, smoking, drinking, implied/referenced domestic abuse, implied/referenced child abuse, objectification, dehumanization, indoctrination, public humiliation, rape threats, sexual assault, normalization of rape/sexual assault, implied/referenced child sexual abuse, implied/referenced non-consensual incest, implied/referenced pregnancy from rape, mild necrophilia.

“You could never tell now, but your father used to fight in the arena, too.”

Mary looked to her uncle as he sat down beside her at the bar, his massive, striped horns catching the neon lights above him. He flicked his tail dismissively when the bartender came by; much to her surprise, he had not come here to drink.

“He did?” She pushed her hair from her face, sticking to her with sweat. In her drunken daze (though she had so far smoked more than she had swallowed any substance), she couldn’t remember if James had told her such a thing. She couldn’t imagine why anyone other than an Ally or a hostage would fight in an arena. It was fun but pointless bloodshed, the risk too high for the reward.

“Yes. In the Southern Kingdom, while we were in hiding.” Charles laughed. “He acts as if he’s ashamed of it. I hope he isn’t, because there’s nothing wrong with what he did there.”

“He killed people?” That wasn’t a surprise. He still did it all the time.

“Well, yes, but that’s not the part he worries about.” Charles curled his lip back to show his teeth, lifting a finger to tap at a canine. “Right here, Mary, he used to have tusks. Long, regal things, and rare, too.”

“He’s talked about them,” she said. She’d heard about them often, actually, when she was younger. The days were all blurred and incomprehensible in her head; even if she were sober, she could remember very little from that time, but she knew that in their games, he had liked to say that he was going to bite her. She would hold up her little hands to his mouth, and he’d snap his teeth, flashing the golden ones at her, and she’d fall back with a squeal.

Her mother said that he used to bite her all the time. She always teased him for it, said that he acted like he still had those big, glorious tusks of his. He said that he was glad they were gone, for he could speak and eat properly now, but sometimes Mary thought he was lying about that.

Everything was alright then, when her mother was still alive. When James still loved Mary because she was his daughter and nothing else. Now she had to give him reasons to love her, reasons justified in blood and devotion.

“Good, otherwise this would be a very awkward revelation,” Charles said, tapping his tail against her shoulder. “Anyway, they worked wonders in the fighting rings. King Louis had never had a human in his arena before, so he sent James in, expecting him to die...but he won, Mary! He had never bitten anyone before, but in that moment he tore right through a devil’s throat and became the first human in centuries to kill one of those divine beings.”

“And did you ever kill one?” Mary hoped she didn’t sound too accusatory. But she had to wonder, then, why James wasn’t the one leading the Disciples if he had managed to kill a devil before his brother.

“Yes, Mary, many times after,” Charles said, his yellow eyes widening slightly. “I’ve told the stories before.”

“Forgive me.”

He smiled and continued. “It wasn’t the last time James fought for the Sun King, and the ring certainly wasn’t the only place. Louis turned him into his little fighting champion. Those powerful tusks were the only reason James wasn’t immediately killed when he entered the Southern Kingdom.” He shook his head, lowering his voice. “They saved his life then. They secured victory after victory. And yet...what good was it for Louis?”

Mary shrugged. She knew little of that devil save for the spell that called him, and the protections he had extended to her father. And even that she could not make sense of.

“It was Louis who ripped them out,” Charles said. “But it wasn’t the end of the world. By then, James could defend himself without biting once. It was just as well; devil blood is disgusting. Have you ever tasted it? Slightly metallic, but more than that, it’s a stinking, bitter liquid, burns your throat like alcohol.”

“Sounds like fun,” Mary said. She stared listlessly ahead at the glowing clock on the wall, reading the Infernal on the walls. Or so she tried, but she hadn’t understood the written words in a very long time.

“Maybe to some people,” Charles said thoughtfully. He flung his tail over Mary and laughed again, and she laughed too. “The fight’s about to start; come, sit next to me! We could even bet on the winner. I say it’ll be that feisty little dwaallicht remnant we caught last month.”

“Oh, no, thank you, sir,” she said, getting up. “I’ll be with my father.”

Charles stood up with her, following her to the back, past the stages and the smiles, where she opened the door and heard the cheers from the ring below. It was the same as always, blood everywhere, the brothers smoking and cheering on the relentless death.

“I just- do I have to go?” she asked, looking back at Charles.

“I can cover for you,” he said. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes, please, I-” She stepped away. “It’s just the same thing every time, you know? It’s boring. Suffering needs a reason; that’s what makes it satisfying.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, perhaps with confusion, though she didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t understood what she said or simply didn’t believe it. But he shrugged and walked past her towards the stairs.

“I’ll just say you were a little more fucked up tonight,” he said. “Don’t talk to any strangers out there, Mary.”

“I won’t.”

“And who knows?” He waved a hand at her. “Maybe we’ll get an Ally in here soon. It won’t be so boring then, won’t it?”

She shook her head. “Not at all,” she said, and turned away, just about collapsing back into her seat.

🝰🝰🝰

The fight’s about to start.

The agitated cries of four hundred Disciples filled the room, all looking down to the arena and anticipating the fight and subsequent execution. Fights like these were held once a month when Charles was alive, maybe twice if James couldn’t wait any longer. Of course, he saw no reason to delay them any longer than his supposed mourning lasted, so here they were again, Mary sitting between her sister and father.

“I don’t know how he expects Marly to fight,” Anne said once James had turned away to speak to Maria. “Something happened yesterday—”

“Whatever it was, he’s an Ally.” Mary shrugged. “He’ll be fine.”

Anne lowered her voice. “James stabbed him. In the fucking thigh. He could’ve hit an artery in there, do you know how dangerous that is?”

“Well, he didn’t, so Marly should have healed up nicely.”

“Have you ever cared about anybody that he’s hurt?” She leaned in towards Mary, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Even yourself?”

“If he’s hurting anyone, they deserve it.” Mary rolled her eyes and pushed her away. “We’ve talked about this, Anne. Everything we do here is for the sake of our future!”

“The sake of our future!” Anne mocked. “I’m not even going to be a fucking Overlifer, you’re the heir! Where would that leave me?”

“Um, my second-in-command?”

“WHY THE FUCK WOULD I EVER WANT TO SERVE YOU?”

“Anne, will you stop yelling?” Maria leaned over and scowled at her stepdaughter. “You can argue about whatever it is later.” She gestured down at the arena. “We’re about to witness justice being served, your father doesn’t need the extra stress.”

“It’s an execution,” Anne said dryly.

“Which is still justice,” Maria said, looking back at James expectantly.

“That’s right, Anne, and you’ve caused enough trouble for me as it is.” James glared straight ahead at the arena. “You know what could have happened with Marly? He could have bled out, he could have been out for a while, and then who is going to bomb all those trains? It isn’t going to be me.”

“I’m not the one who stabbed him,” Anne said, it being her turn to roll her eyes.

“It was your fault!” James leaned over Mary, who ducked back in her seat, looking frantically between her sister and her father. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, you insolent, ungrateful girl! Come here-” He reached out towards Anne’s horns, and Anne shuffled to the side. “Stop moving!”

“James, by all the stars, enough!” Maria pulled back on his tail, and James turned to her with blazing eyes.

“Don’t tell me how to discipline my daughters,” he snapped.

“I- I’m not telling you to do anything,” she said, clearing her throat as he settled back down beside her. “I’m just suggesting that maybe you’re causing a scene and maybe we should get on with the fight. There’s four hundred of our people here, and they’re all looking at you.”

James snorted like a slighted bull. “You see, Anne? You see what you do?”

Anne sat back down with a huff, turned pointedly away from Mary, who realized she was breathing hard, her heart beating its way out of her chest. She looked down and buried her face in her hands.

Calm down. He’s not mad at you. Everything’s fine.

If anything, he’s pleased. He’s very pleased with you.

Why did Anne have to be like this? It was as if she searched for every opportunity to enrage James, to go under his nose and mock him and Maria behind his back like a true heretic. She knew what would happen, and still she did it anyway.

“Why can’t you just obey?” she asked out loud, her voice shaking. “Why don’t you understand how things are?” Then, slightly louder: “Is it true? You won’t serve me when- when James—” She couldn’t finish the sentence; losing Charles stung, losing her father was unthinkable.

Anne swallowed with what looked like great effort and focused her gaze ahead on the sands. Her tail came to a rest behind her. “I- do- do you really expect me to answer that right now?”

“I guess not. I’m sorry.” Mary looked back at James, who glanced down at her and took her hand, smiling as he adjusted the microphone over his mouth. In an instant, all kindness was gone from his eyes as he looked to his Disciples, his grin suddenly one of contempt.

“Hello, my dearest, beloved subjects,” he said, quieting down the last excited murmurs and whispers. “It’s been long since our last fight, hasn’t it? As a reward for waiting so patiently, I have made sure this one will be as exciting as it’s never been before. Most of you by now have heard of a dwaallicht spirit’s attempts on my divine lives, and both times we have beaten him, crushed him like the worthless dog he is!” He leaned back and waved his arm about triumphantly. “That’s right, today we have here the legendary Duke of Monmouth!”

The Disciples did not cheer as usual, instead looked on in disgust. From one end of the arena, the aforementioned spirit was dragged out onto the sand, his blank white eyes widening as he looked out at the audience. The chain was unclipped from his collar.

“Heretic!” cried Maria abruptly, her voice carrying nearly as well as James’ microphone did. “Look upon this heretic!”

At that the Disciples joined in on the chant, heretic, heretic, heretic, jeering and hissing, fangs bared and tails whipping in the air. James didn’t say a word, only watched through lidded eyes as Monmouth stumbled back and shook his head.

Mary, too, kept her mouth shut. She knew that if she joined in, it wouldn’t sound sincere.

This is going to be...unreal. Though she was sober today, it all still felt like a dream. It was a stupid hope, her wish to wake up before he had to die.

“Good girl,” her father murmured at Maria. Standing, he smiled at Monmouth and raised his voice once more. “We have no room for traitors like this spirit. Charles was too friendly with these little beasts, and I have tolerated it. But no longer! All his mistresses, all his half-bred children— they are not welcome here unless they serve us from their proper places beneath us.”

“And I can serve you!” Monmouth yelled over the noise of the audience. “You don’t have to kill me, you- sir, please, do you remember when I was a boy? You were the one who taught me how to use my powers to help you. I was named after you!” He reached his magnificent claws out as if he were about to call for his shadows, but a second glance around seemed to remind him that he couldn’t win a fight here. Instead he attempted to smile. “Sir, you- you can’t say this is what my father would have wanted.”

James snorted. “And what do you know of that? He was never your father, he was only my brother. Do you think he’d turn the whole world over to defend an insignificant little mutt spirit, all to go against me? His real blood, the only person he ever gave a fuck about?!” He shouted the last part out, then shook his head. “No. I will not spare you because you have deluded yourself into thinking that I ever loved you as a nephew. You only affirm that I am making the right decision with this insolence.”

Monmouth flicked his ears back in horror, and James looked back to the audience. “This is not just any fight. This is an execution that he cannot win his way out of. And his executioner we all know very well. My champion, my Ally, my most beloved John Churchill!”

Marly entered from the other side, resplendent in the small golden chains hanging off his shoulders and waist, and the shimmering green of his rings, earring and nails. As usual, most of his body was exposed to the audience, showing off the tattoos that James so loved; only his chest and crotch were covered by black and green silk. And around his face was strapped a traditional accessory of the Allies who fought in the arena of an Overlifer: a gold wire muzzle.

Despite this, he always sauntered out in the same way, so sure that he would win this fight like he had won all the others. Today he walked only with a slight limp, but Mary could see no wound on him; much of his thighs were covered by the chains and jewels. Other than that, he seemed fine, as she had guessed. Maybe his smile was even more annoying today.

Should have stabbed him harder! She rolled her eyes when James waved down at Marly, who knelt on the sand before him and bowed his head low.

“I have no reason to believe that he should fail today,” James said, and Mary recognized the slightest hint of a warning in his voice. “Remove the muzzle.”

Sarah hurried out behind Marly and began to gently pull the muzzle from his face, her tail twitching as she looked from him to James. The excitement buzzing in the air seemed to pause when she leaned in to kiss Marly, gripping his hand tightly. James only raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Sarah skipped up the seats to sit next to Anne.

“Your greatest honor is to die,” he went on instead.

There it is. Mary’s heart skipped a beat. It was about to begin.

“Today, I will refuse it,” Marly replied. He raised his hand in the air and called up a spear from out of the devils’ realm, and James sat back, his tail lashing forward once in satisfaction.

Monmouth held his hand out cautiously as Marly approached him. “Wait,” he said. “Marly, you- you and I, we’re—”

“We are nothing!” Marly stabbed his spear into the sand, and behind Monmouth, another one sprouted up from the ground, brushing by his tail. The spirit yelped and ran to the side, his wounded tail flying between his legs.

“Are you making this boring on purpose?” Marly narrowed his eyes. “Fight, damnit!”

“I’m not going to fight you after what happened last night,” Monmouth said firmly.

You have to at least try to survive! Mary clenched her fists on her legs.

Marly looked around at the Disciples, some of the front rows having grown quieter with curious whispers, all wondering out loud about what Monmouth could possibly be referring to. James seemed unaffected, merely tilting his head to the side when Marly looked up at him.

“It is not your place to mention that,” the Ally spat, glaring back at Monmouth. “You think I can’t fight now? You think anything can stop me? I have the power to destroy everyone here!” He threw the spear at the dog, barely missing him as he flew into the air, now a raven as he had been when Elizabeth shot him.

“Oh, you son of a—!” Marly called for the spear again as the bird flew frantically towards the exit. James stood up then, his eyes wide, but he had no need to worry as the spear melted in Marly’s hands to form a long chain. He threw it out at Monmouth, and it wrapped all around his wings just as he was flying out, pulling him back sharply. He fell to the sand with a dissatisfied caw.

“I thought you would have learned by now,” Marly said, dragging Monmouth back towards him. “I can only catch you easier in the sky.”

“Very good,” James muttered, sitting back down. He turned to Mary. “He better turn back before Marly kills him. Where’s the fun in killing a little bird?”

“It wouldn’t be a face we recognize,” Mary said.

“Yes, that’s exactly the problem.”

Mary sighed, looked back to the fight.

“You want a real fight, Marly?” Monmouth flapped his wings, trying and failing to shake the chains off of him. “Very well.” The shadows and ribbons around him began to draw closer to his body, his wings and feathers appearing to grow and grow until they were not feathers but fur. Sharper teeth glistened from a snarling black mouth, raised high in a powerful bark.

Mary’s eyes widened. A real dog.

And he’s huge!

“Shit, John, don’t waste time!” Sarah whispered frantically. “Kill him now!”

Monmouth ripped off the chains with a fierce growl, beginning to pace around Marly, a new confidence under his starry black pelt. “We haven’t had a real fight in a long time,” he said.

“You think I can’t handle an animal?” Marly pulled the chains back in, letting them wrap around his wrists.

Monmouth snarled again, leaping at Marly and throwing him back against the sand. The Ally rolled to the side as Monmouth brought his jaws down on his stomach, scoring wounds along his waist and thighs. The audience cheered as they had in the beginning, and James lit a cigarette, grinning down at Marly as he dragged himself out from under Monmouth, his blood dripping onto the sand.

“Maybe I shall be their champion after this,” the spirit said, stepping forward.

Marly slammed a hand down on the sand, and three spears drove upwards from the ground beneath Monmouth, digging into his belly. He let out a shriek, rearing up on his hind legs and tearing the spears out of his body. All save for one disappeared back into the sand, and Marly took the last one, pulling himself back up to his feet.

Monmouth was panting now, licking his whiskers, before running once more towards Marly, snapping his jaws in the air. Marly jumped to the side and onto Monmouth’s back, forcing his spear into him before the dog could manage to throw him off. Monmouth turned in a circle, desperately trying to shake Marly off, but the Ally only buried the spear deeper until it poked out through Monmouth’s chest.

“Too easy,” James remarked. Raising his voice, he shouted, “More, more, Marly!”

Marly smiled up at him, then pulled the spear out, eliciting a loud whine from Monmouth. He stumbled forward, unsteady on his feet, and Marly took hold of one of his ears, the spear shrinking down into a whip. He brought it down against Monmouth’s haunches, and the dog sprung forward, once again bucking in the air to throw Marly off. But he was too weak to thrash around any harder, only spinning around as Marly whipped him. The sound was familiar to Mary, sending a thrill through her.

At last Monmouth bowed his great head, his shaking body returning back to its usual humanoid state. Marly twisted the whip in his hands, turning it back into a spear and bringing it down through one of Monmouth’s folded ears. Monmouth cried out, his shivering slowly coming to a stop as Marly stepped off of him. He ripped the spear carelessly back out.

This heartless bitch! Mary swallowed hard, feeling James’ hand on her shoulder.

“What, can’t fight anymore?” Marly kicked Monmouth in the side. “Get up.”

Monmouth said nothing. His gaze was fixed on the ground in front of him, but he was not dead, Mary knew. No, this was Marly’s power that James loved so much, the ability to drain the movement from a person when he drew enough blood from them. It was rather useful, Mary supposed, to be able to end a fight quickly, but she imagined it as some kind of cheating, even though there were no rules.

“Kill him now!” Maria yelled beside James. “Now!”

This is what happens, Monmouth, you should have known. Mary narrowed her eyes as Marly turned his spear into an axe. He raised it slightly, as if in hesitation, but surely he knew it was too late for that now.

This is what happens when anyone defies James.

Marly brought the axe down on Monmouth’s neck, and the shadows engulfed him fully, pooling around the sand like blood. Marly waved them away, letting the axe fall into them and disappear back into the realm of the devils. When he stepped away, the body was gone, leaving nothing of the remnant.

He’s with Charles now, wherever that may be. Mary bowed her head. She didn’t care what James said; Monmouth had always been family, and she’d remember him as she liked. Oddly she wasn’t as upset as she thought she’d be. Maybe she just had to give it a few days.

Or maybe she had no problem with this after all, but she had no idea.

“The traitor is dead!” Maria called out, springing out of her seat and raising her tail and fist triumphantly in the air. “Long live our Overlifer, long live James Stewart!”

She was met with echoing sentiments from the Disciples, some of them even applauding their leader, and this time Mary joined in. James laughed with almost giddy delight like she’d never heard from him, flinging an arm over her and leaning in to kiss her face.

“You know I do this all to protect you,” he said, “though he really wouldn’t have ended up down here without you.” He lifted her head in his hands, and she looked into his glistening eyes. “I love you.”

“I- I love you too!” She attempted to smile, but he thankfully broke away from her and walked over to Anne, ruffling the hair between her horns.

“I forgive you for last night,” he said. “Just don’t do it again.”

Anne coughed, leaning away from James’ cigarette. “No- no, of course not.”

“You know I love you, Anne.”

“Yeah.” She stood up and began to follow Sarah down towards Marly, flicking her tail at her father. “I know very well.”

James sighed as he watched her go, turning to Maria. “Sometimes I wish she had stayed small. She was a lot sweeter. And a far better listener,” he added with a snort. “Nowadays it’s like I give her one order and she feels compelled to do the exact opposite.”

Maria shrugged. “Maybe you should let her live on her own. I mean, she’s been with you so long—”

“I would prefer to stay here, Maria,” Mary interrupted. “And I’m sure Anne would as well. We’re the heirs, we need to stay where our Overlifer is should anything happen.”

“Exactly,” James said. “They’re safer with me, Maria. The whole world would break them if given the chance.” He shook his head. “I have been protecting them since they were born, and I will do so until they die.”

He made it sound as if he would outlive them both. It was possible, Mary knew, and likely, even, with the way she went about things. She had already decided that that wouldn’t be so bad, either.

They were to host a very late dinner that night back home, much to Mary’s disappointment— she’d been looking forward to getting high again and streaming into the morning. But James said she had to be sober for the celebration, since it wouldn’t be just family.

She didn’t really care for any of the Disciples there, though, and she might as well have been drunk for the way she watched them laughing in the limo on the way back through her tired eyes. She fell asleep leaning on Anne, half-dreaming of the vicious dog still barking, with blood staining its teeth. It was Maria who woke her up a while later, gently adjusting the glasses back over her nose, and she followed everyone inside in something of a stupor.

She stopped by her room first to look for her lighter; everyone would be smoking there, so at the very least James would have to allow it for her, as well. When she stepped back out in the corridor, standing alone in the vast darkness, the booming, merry conversation below tempted her to retreat back into her room.

James’ voice was louder than everyone else’s, which was unusual— that had been the role of his brother’s. But she realized then that it was on the same floor she was on, coming from down the hall, where his room was. She headed toward the stairs first, but in the end she turned back to follow James’ voice. He had no reason to be up here if he had to entertain his guests.

“Well, heal it up quickly,” he was saying from behind the door. “I don’t want you bleeding out like that in front of everyone.”

“It’s not that fast,” answered Marly’s voice, and Mary stifled a sigh of relief that it was only him and no one else. “Besides, I was bleeding out in front of four hundred of your people and you said nothing then.”

“It’s the arena, you are in fact expected to bleed a little.”

“So they can expect it again now.”

“Ah, John,” James sighed. “You know, I do love that about you...”

Mary didn’t hear the rest as she backed away. Whatever happened between the two was none of her business, but it certainly was Maria’s.

“I think James is done looking at you for the night,” Mary said as she sat down at the table, quiet enough so as not to arouse the attention of the Disciple guests, but loud enough so that Maria could still hear her over them.

Maria sighed. “You know it’s always like this for a while after every fight. Both in and out of the arena.”

“An Ally doesn’t deserve to have such attention showered on him by an Overlifer,” Mary grumbled.

“No.” Maria glanced up as James walked in with Marly at his side. “He doesn’t.”

Mary had no idea why her father wanted her sober; as the night went on, everyone around her drank to the point of what might have been death had Marly not quietly slipped their glasses away from them and told them to get a grip on themselves. It was the worst thing about him, the worst thing about the whole circle of Sarah, Anne, and a few others— they thought they were so much better than everyone else here.

But it wasn’t even close. She was the heir, and Marly was an Ally, a sycophantic, sickening Ally kissing James right in front of the latter’s wife. She had hated him before, but she hated him more now for all he had done tonight. James returned every little kiss and touch until it would have been voyeuristic for Mary to stay any longer. She nudged Maria and murmured that she was going back upstairs.

As she stood she heard someone knock on the front door, and she rolled her eyes. Whoever it was, they were lucky James was too drunk to notice anyone new; he would have had their head for coming this late to his celebration. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Mary, baby, hello!” Elizabeth Villiers wagged her tail at the sight of her. “Is your father in?”

“Um, yes, but he’s—”

“Perfect! Bring him in, Anne!” Elizabeth turned to the side, and then the aforementioned sister pushed past Mary, shoving forward the furious, wiggling body of William Henry Nassau, letting him fall hard to the ground.

Mary stumbled back in shock. “You- you actually got him.” His hands were tied rather messily behind his back, his face obscured by a tight blindfold and gag. Around his horns, ropes had been woven in and tangled like webs, and it was from their excess that Anne pulled him back up on his knees, forcing his head up towards her.

“I followed your orders,” she said, glowering down at William with a cold satisfaction Mary had never seen from her before. “If you had known half of the shit he’s done to Hans, it would have been much easier to capture him. Trust me.”

“Is that so?” Mary laughed nervously. “Ah, well, great job.” She had drank very little tonight, but she thought she might be sicker than anyone else now.

Anne looked up, the cruelty in her eyes replaced with the usual concern Mary had come to associate with her. “This is what you wanted, right?”

Mary swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m not- not mad, I just didn’t expect it, I mean—” She stared at William’s tail, lashing with indignance. “You really did it. You might have just saved the Disciples.”

“Have I?” Anne looked down at the floor, and Mary took her hand.

“Yes. Thank you, dear, it means everything to me.” She pushed the hair from Anne’s face and smiled at her. “James is going to be very happy.”

“I know.” Anne still didn’t look up.

Mary hurried back to James, who was coughing in the midst of his laughter, another cigarette lit in his hand. Marly sat on the table in front of him, one of his legs on the Overlifer’s shoulder, and they both glared at her when she tapped at her father’s tail.

“Forgive me,” she said, bowing her head at her father, “but the Villiers sisters have returned. They have William with them.” “Are you serious?” James stood up, looking around at his guests.

“Yes. He’s by the door.”

“Marly—” James coughed again, then handed his cigarette to Marly, waving his hand. “Tell everyone! Go, go! Meet me there.” Turning to Mary, he took her hand. “Take me to them.”

Elizabeth was tying the ropes around William’s horns into somehow even more elaborate knots, an increasingly difficult task as William bucked his head up and down like a displeased horse. She stood up when she saw James, and Anne brought her foot down on William’s back, forcing his head down on the floor.

“Well, well, he looks much nicer like that, it must be said,” James said, running his tail over William’s spine. “You see, Lilli? You’re much prettier when you keep your mouth shut.”

William clenched his fists. Behind them, a few of the Disciples guests, led by Marly, came warily out of the dining room, their eyes wide as they stared down at the rival Overlifer.

“And hopefully we never will have to hear you speak again,” James said. He nudged William’s horn with a foot. “How many lives do you have left? Five, at least, right? Nevermind, I’ll ask you later. Then we can figure out how many executions I need to plan. Oh, Mary, we are about to have so much fun—” He looked back at his Disciples watching. “And once we get rid of their leader, dealing with the fuckin’ Devils will be much easier. That Ally, too, the fuck was his name? Ah, Bentinck...loyal Hansi.”

Anne’s grip seemed to tighten around the rope she held, her gaze fixed on William before her. James turned to her and Elizabeth with a lopsided smile.

“Such good girls,” he purred. “I ought to reward you; what are you thinking? Perhaps you would like the greatest gift of all, the divine touch of an Overlifer such as I...” He ran his tail under Anne’s chin, lifting her head up, but she pushed it away, shaking her head rapidly.

“Money would do just fine,” she said.

“Are you sure? I can make you-”

“I’m very sure. Both of us.”

James glanced uneasily at Mary, then flicked his tail at Anne. “Your loss, ladies. One last thing— take our prisoner to one of the smaller arenas outside of the city, with Mr. Spencer, and make absolutely certain that he does not escape.”

“We can’t leave him here?” Anne asked.

“Fuck no, that’s like rescuing, say, a wounded bear, and bringing it into your house just for it to tear you apart later.” James shook his head firmly. “I’ll look at him tomorrow. We have a great trial planned for you, William, you hear that?”

“Trial?” Mary said. “For what? We know everything he’s done, don’t we? Nothing is going to stop us from killing him.” At these words, William curled his tail in closer, and Mary wondered then if this was the last glimpse she would catch of him before his executions. It was a cruel wish of hers, but she wanted to say goodbye, at least, thank you for the hope but I didn’t need it anyway.

“It’s more of a ceremony than anything.” James shrugged. “It’s new for everyone here, nobody has seen an Overlifer’s execution before, like how they used to do it in our oldest days.” He lifted his tail at Anne, who stepped off of William and pulled him back up to a sitting position. James then took William’s chin in his hand, wiping at the drool from underneath the gag. “Tomorrow I’ll set things right with you. Tomorrow.” He pushed William’s head back, spitting down onto his face, and the Disciples laughed as James walked back over to them.

“If he escapes,” he went on, staring at the Villiers sisters, “after all this, I will seriously fucking kill you.”

As soon as he was gone, Mary cleaned William’s face up with her sleeve. “Alright, keep a close eye on him. Knock him out if you have to.” She drew back when William tried to twine his tail around her leg.

“He’s perfectly safe with us,” Elizabeth said, patting William on the head. “Besides, I’m sure he has enough of a concussion from the beating Anne gave him.”

“What? Anne did it?”

“He deserved it,” Anne muttered, looking away. “He’s no better than your father.”

“He’s far worse than him, actually,” Elizabeth said with a pointed look at her sister. “Alright, William, let’s go!” She tugged at the rope in a manner not unlike that of a loving master to their dog, but William did not stand, instead jerked his head from side to side, pulling himself towards Mary.

Oh, William. Mary turned away, began walking up the stairs to her room. “Just go with them,” she called. Deepening her voice and thickening her accent, she added, “Tomorrow I’ll set things right with you.” She heard laughter behind her from the sisters, and smiled to herself as she went into her room, collapsing on the bed.

Her followers had been expecting a stream tonight. She knew some of the younger ones would be worried about her, and she’d seen enough theories about her role in her father’s supposed terrorist group (which, impressively, were all correct) to know that there would be speculation about this if she didn’t apologize and come up with an excuse in some hasty post. But she couldn’t even bring herself to do that. Despite all the noise downstairs, she fell asleep.

It was the sound of her door opening that woke her up later that night, or rather in the earliest hours of the morning. She noticed that everything had fallen nearly silent now, the only sound being the footsteps approaching her. She looked up, saw that it was only Maria.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Nothing.” Maria looked around the room with wide eyes as she closed the door and sat down beside Mary. “Marly’s just taken my place on the bed again, and I’m not listening to that. Do you mind if I- if I sleep here, with you?”

Mary shrugged. “I don’t mind.” She stared up at the ceiling as Maria got under the blankets next to her, wrapping an arm and her tail around her. The embrace was as warm and protective as it had been when she was younger, and she leaned into it, giggling when Maria pushed strands of hair away from her face.

“I heard about William,” Maria said.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

“Do you think it is?”

Mary turned away. “I guess I’m supposed to.”

“Right.” The two were silent for a while, long enough that Mary thought Maria had fallen asleep, until she spoke up again. “There’s more devils in here than usual.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mary was too tired to pull Maria away from her tormented little world tonight. Sometimes it was fun to play along with the delusions, the hallucinations, though James never saw the sense in encouraging it.

“Yes.” Maria shuffled closer to Mary, glaring out at some unseen enemy in the darkness. “I don’t know why they’re so angry at you tonight. They’re usually very quiet here.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ll protect you, alright?”

“You sure will.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“You’ve done enough.” Mary smiled over at her. “I don’t trust anybody else with the devils. Go get them, girl.”

Maria smiled back, but in the way that Mary knew meant she saw right through the supposed sincerity and found amusement instead. She was tired of it; well, so was Mary. Her stepmother turned away with a sigh, and Mary let her hand fall from the bed, praying for the devils to take it and drag her down to their realm.

🝰🝰🝰

The sun glared through a hole in the wooden roof, on occasion blinking down at William when a wispy cloud passed over it. He only knew this because the light over his closed eyes would go away for a moment, and then he’d open one eye and it’d be just a little darker where he sat.

His body felt much too stiff now, and every little movement from where his hands were tied, high above him on a pole, sent an angry spark down to his shoulders, his back, all the way to the base of his tail. It was coiled around the same pole, tied higher than even his hands so that the tip dangled just over his head. He wanted to look down, shoot daggers with his eyes at all the Disciples here, but in the position his head was forced up in, the only thing he could see was the sun, on his knees before it like a servant of the Southern Kingdom.

Fucking Anne. It was all he could think in the midst of what might have been delirium or some kind of fever. He felt sweat fall from his hair to his neck, and yet he was freezing, his spine pressed against the cold metal behind him. Having stared at the sky since last night, he thought he was perhaps still caught in a dream.

Damned Villiers girl. Fucking Anne. Fucking Hansi.

Ooh, that was new. Was he seriously going to be mad at Bentinck?

Yes, he decided. In fact, for all he knew his Ally had betrayed him, whether he had intended to or not. He couldn’t believe that of Bentinck, but when he shut his eyes again, all he saw was the way that lovely blue gaze had fixed on Anne. And he knew that Bentinck would die for her, would kill for her.

Was I never enough? I gave you what you wanted. What does she have that’s so much better?

William bit into the gag, hearing his own breaths heavy around it. Bentinck wasn’t stupid. And yet, this was the second time he’d been left behind, left alone so Bentinck could fulfill his private little ambitions with a Disciple he either hated or loved. Did he think William could wait for him to finish?

Bentinck would come for him. He had to, or William would know then that, yes, this was all real, intentional, and that yes, Bentinck was willing to betray everything he’d ever known for one Disciple lover. And he didn’t want to know that.

In the meantime, in his mind he was thinking of all the ways he was going to kill the Villiers girls, but especially Anne for the utter humiliation she had forced him through with the gun. And then he’d get James, and then Mary—

Poor Mary! She had sounded shaken when they brought him in, and he had wanted to stay with her. But, if he remembered correctly what Anne said, it’d been her orders. What did she want from him?

She’ll save me like she did the first time. He’d known, when he was younger, that if there was one thing he would not let his father take from him, it was going to be Bentinck. That was what set him free. And if Mary was anything like him, she would do the same; she would realize that there was no blood family in the world worth losing him for. For all he had shown her, she owed him everything.

He didn’t know why everyone had such a problem with it. This romance shit was easy.

He heard someone yell ahead of him, over the voices of the working Disciples. Out here in the tiny arena, what looked more like an arena for dog fights, all they had been doing was herding dwaallicht spirits back into cages. They would slap spells onto the bars that the spirits would occasionally slip through with enough power, and then the Disciples had to go chasing after them. He saw one run past him out of the corner of his eye, kicking sand up towards him.

“Ugh, I’m sick of doing this shit,” he heard another Disciple say, kicking a spirit back into its cage and throwing it into the truck. “Back at the club, the spirits never escape, and James doesn’t even use any spells!”

“It’s because they’re so scared of him,” one replied. “That’s what I’m thinking. They smell the six lives on him. And it was the same with Charles too, Ferocity rest his soul.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice? So feared and respected you just can’t be bothered?”

“Sounds kind of lonely.”

“We have an Overlifer right here, why don’t we ask him?”

“No, you fools.” It was a deeper voice, speaking with its own streak of authority. “The Villiers ladies said not to take off his gag. They said he had even managed to cast the Louis spell once with no trouble at all.”

“That’s fucked. He can just call up the ruler of the Southern Kingdom at any time, no big deal.”

Yeah, real fucked, isn’t it? William straightened himself up against the pole, and he heard the Disciples gasp as if they expected him to call Louis up with nothing but his fucking eyes.

“I really appreciate it, Mr. Spencer, but I don’t see why James would trust us with, you know, the only other Overlifer in the world,” said the first one that had spoken once they had all seemed to recover from their brief fright. “He’s not going to escape, but like, what if he does?”

“He won’t,” came the self-assured voice again, so-called Mr. Spencer. “We brought him to the very edge of a fine society for a reason. If he slips out, we’ll catch him quickly, like we’ve caught all the spirits.”

Try me. William huffed through the gag.

“Man, I’m bored,” another stranger piped up. “You guys want to call snake’s eye for an eye?”

William froze. They wouldn’t do that here, would they?

Hurry up, Hans! He tugged frantically against the ropes, trying to snap the ones tying his legs down, and a Disciple walked over to him, swinging a cattle prod around on his gleaming red tail. His eyes were not malicious, but curious as he pressed the cattle prod to William’s side.

William jolted, his whole body tensing as the Disciple leaned in, smiling in a sort of disinterested way. It was worse than any smug triumph, but all he could do about it was glare defiantly back at him, biting as hard as he could into the gag to stifle his gasp.

“Boring,” the man remarked, stepping away, and William realized it was Spencer. He let himself fall limp, the tip of his tail twitching furiously as Spencer smiled back at him. “I don’t think he would take very kindly to it.”

“But it’s an Overlifer...”

“When will we ever get a chance like this?”

“Enough,” Spencer snapped, his gaze darkening. “We don’t have James’ permission. If any of you lays a finger on him, I’ll cut it off. Get back to work.”

The Disciples obeyed, grumbling, and William stared at the man in front of him. His dull, pink hair was obscured by a hood of black and red silk, like the ones that Ally servants usually wore, but he didn’t have the rest of the usual attire save for the black gloves. They were, however, marked with red pierced mullets all along his arm, meaning that at the very least he was some sort of spirit handler. His horns were striped in the usual Eastern, black-and-white manner, decorated with rings and chains dangling between them.

“Don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” Spencer asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag from it with the smile back on his face. “Heard you have asthma, among other things. This fresh air must be nice, hm?” He brushed his tail against William’s cheek. “My name’s Robert, but dwaallicht spirits call me Master Spencer.”

Oh, great. William winced, trying to shift his head away from the tail.

“James will be here for you before it’s dark,” Spencer went on. “I have no idea what he plans to do to you. He still has us torture people for information, but...” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone, I just think he wants to do it for fun. It doesn’t work, does it? I mean, it never has for me. Anyway, just be aware you might not be coming out of here in one piece.”

As if he hadn’t already guessed!

The sun was setting when the Disciples began to leave, leaving only Spencer behind. By then William’s breaths were coming out in raspy gasps, and the aching all over his body had faded into the background, though he knew it would return with a vengeance once he was free. More than anything, though, he was bored, and only found entertainment in all the ways he was imagining he was going to yell at Bentinck.

Spencer stepped out of the arena, his gaze fixed on something beyond William. The Overlifer was still for a moment before realizing he was alone here, and he began to toss his head back, trying to use his horns to rip through the ropes. All the while he pulled down on the ropes binding his wrists above him. It burned, and he paused for a moment before feeling the cattle prod shock his tail.

“Ah—!” His eyes widened, and then Spencer was walking around him, flanked by James and Mary.

Mary! William tried to pull his head down to look at her. She stepped behind James, who smiled down at him.

“Finally got a noise out of you,” Spencer said with a shrug. “We’re getting there.”

“It’ll be much more than that when I’m done with him,” James said. “Leave us, Spencer.” His vassal having obeyed him, he walked over to William, his horns blocking the sky above them. “Good afternoon, William. How are you today?” He reached down to stroke William’s horn. “Please don’t be so upset about this. You already know that you should have never been born. I’m sure you heard it many times when you were young, but it only holds more truth now. You were never meant to lead the Devils of Orange-Nassau, and you were never meant to challenge me.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “And now, your fate is to die. Your father really was a fool, but then, so was your mother, for not strangling you before you even took your first breath.” He lashed his tail, and Mary stepped forward, slicing the ropes from William’s wrists and tail and shoving him to the ground.

Now, get up! Fight! But as William lifted his head, his body seemed to lock in place, burning with every breath he took. More than that, he was dizzy with both hunger and a headache, and he let his head fall. Here was a chance to escape, but, miserably, he knew he couldn’t take it.

“Fucking weak,” James spat. “Look at me, up here. Look at me.”

William kept his gaze on the ground, and he was met with James’ foot slamming down on his horn, forcing his head on its side. He tried to kick out as Mary stepped onto his tail and began to tie his hands behind him again. He glared up at the grinning figure standing over him.

“Charles and I saved you, you ungrateful little brat,” James said coldly. “And all we asked was that you never receive your six lives. I truly thought for the longest time after your father died that you still had some sense of honor, that you respected the promise you made to your mother. For that I still held some respect for you, for still fighting me despite knowing that you had only one life to lose.”

You never respected me. William tried to wrench his head free. Certainly, he had made that promise, but it was in the midst of a delusion, a frantic hope, on a day when he thought he was destined to be anything less than an Overlifer. He hadn’t expected James to think he would actually keep it. Even back then, sitting in the car with tears in his eyes, he hadn’t believed it of himself.

“Maybe I would have taken you in,” James went on. “Maybe I could have loved you. Your mother meant a great deal to me, more than even a sister— I would have proudly helped her with her child after all we had been through together. But it was you your father came for; he shot Mary because he had you.”

No. He never cared for me. William’s eyes widened as James leaned in. There was a frightening expression on his face, a hungry enthusiasm he remembered from that horrible night, the last night his mother was alive. When they had fled to James and Charles in the hopes that they could finally escape William’s father. Knowing they would only make him angrier and still going anyway.

“It was you who killed her,” James said, lifting William by his shirt collar and pulling him up. “I still see her in your eyes, the way she would glare at me when she would tell me she wished I was better. The way she looked at me before telling me she was getting married to a man who had raped her just to create you!”

William stared back in horror. How could he bring that up now?

James smiled back at him. “Even before your birth, all you did was hurt her. I know she loved you, and even if I can’t fathom why, I will kill you and fulfill what she would have wanted.” He leaned in to whisper. “She would rather see you dead than fighting me. She was an Easterner, through and through, and only realized her mistake when your father murdered her.”

“No!” he cried out through the gag, and James laughed, throwing him back down on the sand. A shudder ran through William’s body as he landed, his tail twisting inwards in pain.

“Her last words to you made that much clear,” James said. “You know, I can never get that out of my head. How she looked at me, and then at you...a scared little boy...poor little one.” He kicked William in the side, and William clenched his fists so hard that he felt his nails begin to draw blood from his palm.

Her last words. He didn’t remember them. He knew he had heard, and yet the moment he saw her bleeding out in James’ arms, his father staring ahead with those empty eyes of his...all of it had faded. He forgot how to speak, how to understand.

“She was right.” James knelt down to pull William’s head up by his hair. “It should have been you.”

So that was what she had used her dying breath for. To tell him that she wished he was in her place.

He had called her traitor all this time, traitor for trying to escape; he couldn’t say that now. He glowered at James, trying to blink back his tears that came as if he had just lost her all over again.

“Crying already?” James shoved him back and stood up again. “It isn’t even your trial yet. Pathetic.”

William lifted his head defiantly. Behind James, he saw Mary staring in silence. Staring at him. It might have been with pity or horror or both, something so kind as that. And he had no idea why; for all he knew, she had it far worse with someone like the monster before him.

“Well, I hope your father taught you a little something about defeat,” James said. “It’ll pay off now.” He shrugged his shoulders back and smiled. “I look upon you with the eyes of a serpent.”

No! William shuffled back in terror, only allowed to shake his head to express his refusal. In the back of his mind, he realized he had been waiting for this moment with the heaviest dread; he could not let it happen again. Not to him.

He fought desperately against the ropes, holding his tail out towards James to keep him away. He heard his rival laugh above him, and he looked up at Mary as if she could stop him. He knew she couldn’t.

But James merely shook his head, still laughing. “Oh, William. You think I’m serious?” He narrowed his eyes. “I’d rather die than touch you. That’s an honor you don’t even deserve.”

Good, because it’s an honor I don’t want. William brought his head down, trying not to let the terror show on his face. He wasn’t afraid. He couldn’t be, James was leaving him alone. It was fine.

So why was he shaking?

“Spencer,” James called, looking away. “I’m done with him. Do what you like.” He flicked his tail dismissively down at William. “I’m excited to hear much more from you at the trial, and then the execution. Maybe the first one won’t be so much to you, but you can only die so many times before it starts driving you mad.”

“That’s what it did to Charles,” Mary said, and James nodded.

“That was just his problem,” he said. He glanced back at William one last time before walking away, motioning with his tail for Mary to follow him. But she merely watched him go, sitting down beside William as soon as he was gone.

“Don’t say anything crazy,” she said, reaching behind his head to take off the gag. “William.”

“Mary,” he breathed, licking at his lips. He hadn’t realized he’d been drooling so much. He shut his mouth, swallowing gratefully, finding that he had nothing to say after all. He just wanted to sleep.

“I- I had no idea he was going to do any of that,” Mary said. She looked around before leaning in to push the hair from his face. “I don’t know anything about what he just said!”

“It’s nothing...”

“Well, it has to be something!” She helped him sit up, drawing back as if in fear before kissing him. William winced but returned the kiss.

“What are you going to do about all of this?” he asked as he pulled away. “You’re going to have to kill your father.”

“What?” Mary stared blankly at him, and he coughed.

“I mean, that’s what I did. When he threatened to kill Bentinck...” He trailed off, realizing Mary was glaring at him.

“You killed your father?” she said. “By all the stars, William, that’s- I’m not doing that just to save you!”

“What are you talking about? Aren’t I worth more than an abusive piece of shit who-”

“He’s not abusive!” Mary cried. “Devils below, you sound like Anne! Both of them! He- he loves me, and I’m sorry if your parents didn’t, but not everyone is like that.”

“My mother did love me. She was just afraid.”

“Really? Wishing you were dead was love?”

“She thought it was better than the way I lived,” he let out in a rush. He had never said it before, not even to himself nor in his head, as if he had never realized it, but he knew now. “She was wrong, but she didn’t say it because she hated me.” He lowered his voice and looked down as Mary reached out to hold his face. “If- if she did hate me, though...I would not— blame her.” He gasped, realizing he was crying, and Mary wrapped her arms around him.

“Mary, look,” William began, shifting back. “I- I lived through all of that, and I’m here now, where I’ve always wanted to be. You’re already older than I was when I killed my father.”

“Don’t start with this again,” Mary warned.

“I couldn’t have imagined it, either,” he said. “I didn’t have anyone to save me, but you- you have me.”

Well, there was always de Witt. But that was someone no one could ever know about. He swallowed at the memory of the execution and tried to smile at Mary, who now looked at him with disgust.

“You think you’re my savior?”

“I just want to help,” he insisted. “I think everyday of living under my father, and how you live, and I- I hate to imagine it. Mary, you need to get out, I don’t want to have to fight you—”

“Oh, so you just want to eliminate an enemy, is that it?” She only gave him a sad smile this time. “What gave you the right to stay, then?”

“I- I had to lead them—”

“So you don’t think I’ll take over the Disciples after my father dies?” she asked. “Fine, I don’t either. But I love him, and he loves me, and I intend to serve him until the day I die. I’m going to finish what you never could.” She stood over him, and as he looked up at her, his breath caught painfully in his throat.

Ferocity help me!

“I’m going to fulfill my father’s destiny,” she said. “Not rip it away from him. And if that means you have to die, then so be it. I’m sorry, William, I’m really glad I met you.” She smiled at him, her eyes glistening under the rising moon. “I think so, anyway. You and I— did you ever think it was anything worth fighting for? I killed you.”

“You’re not going to save me?”

“You will be saved.” Mary stepped away. “Goodbye. I’ll try to keep an eye on Bentinck for you after you’re dead.”

No! William wanted to call out, but he didn’t want to bring James here; that would only give her trouble. So he watched her go, still searching for something to say, anything that would convince her, before Spencer stepped out under the darkness.

“I feel like I heard more of that than I was supposed to,” he said, and William’s eyes widened.

“Don’t you dare tell her father, you-” He was cut off when Spencer pushed the gag back in his mouth.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” he said. “I won’t. I have my own secrets.” He laughed in a sort of dismissive, exhausted way as he knelt down to pull the ropes off of William’s legs. “We all do here. If Mary wants to leave, fine by me.”

William was brought inside into the barn full of screeching, hissing spirits. Some of the more humanoid ones were covering their ears, but perked them up when they saw William pass by.

As uncomfortable as it was to lie on the hay in one of the larger cells, where many smaller spirits were sleeping, he greatly preferred it to staying outside in that arena, stinking of blood and death without dignity. He only wished he was untied so he could stretch out; the pain was all the same.

“Try to sleep,” Spencer said, hopping on top of one of the cages. “You’ll want to be wide awake for your trial tomorrow.”

🝰🝰🝰

“My lord, are you in there?” A servant knocked on the door. “It’s almost time and you’re not even downstairs. Do you need help?”

Bentinck groaned and lifted his head from his hands. He might have needed help doing his makeup again, now that he was looking into the mirror, but he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Then they might ask why, and then he had to explain that he’d just lost the only two people in the world who mattered.

“No,” he said. “I’ll be out in a second, hold off the visitors for a little while.”

“If you say so...” He heard the servant step away, leaving nothing but the sound of rippling water to soothe him. He closed his eyes.

He was fine. He was fine, of course, at least his head was, though everyone had thought it was such a horrible shock that one of their beloved Allies was injured, which was the dumbest, fakest thing he’d ever seen. Only Govert Bidloo, William’s ridiculous doctor and spy, had brushed off his injuries, saying he’d be fine the next day, like always— and, much to Bentinck’s annoyance, he was right.

If anything, he had asked more for William, who was definitively not fine. Bentinck had hesitated to tell him, knowing very well how Bidloo would react.

“You left him alone with a Disciple?!”

“Well, I was alone with one too-”

“Both of you, idiots! Unbelievable! I can’t believe this is the man destined to rule the world!”

“I’m going to go get him, and then I’m going to kill those Villiers girls.”

“Oh, that would be very nice, our facility really needs new bodies.”

It had offended him in the moment, but the way Bidloo was speaking to him made him feel something of a whipped dog; he had no inclination to defend William in front of him. For the longest time Bidloo had been the only one able to speak that way about their leader, and no one had said anything about it.

The worst thing was that, once again, he was right. What an idiot Bentinck had been! To believe that these Disciples had ever had anything beyond James on their mind, to ever dare to love one— it was worse than treason! He knew William would forgive him, as in all things, but it was more than he deserved.

And now he had to go save him, killing as many of those damned Disciples as he could on the way there. If he could, he’d kill James and Marly, the arrogant snakes, but it was Elizabeth he was looking forward to strangling the life out of. Treacherous viper!

Then there was Anne, whom he couldn’t do anything to.

He knew she had loved him. It hadn’t been enough, apparently, but she had loved him, of that he had no doubt. And he had loved her too; no, he did love her, despite all the attempts he had made to hate her now, to try to think of how furious William must be and all the things James was doing to him.

What she’d done was unforgivable, and here he was, trying to fix his makeup and go meet his followers, all while realizing that he couldn’t kill the Disciple who had done this. It was pathetic, it was betrayal.

“Ferocity,” he breathed out, stumbling back into the little stream of water in his room. The heat had never made him dizzy, but today it did, and he sat down in the water, looking down at his reflection, blotted out by the dim lights over his head.

There was yet another knock on the door, and Bentinck clenched his teeth. “I’ll be right down there!” he yelled.

“Well, your thoughts are very loud, could you perhaps quiet them down a little?” came the voice.

Ally George! Bentinck swallowed, forcing himself to think of nothing but the water flowing past his fingers. He only realized he hadn’t answered when George opened the door, looking around the room in wonder.

“Oh, it’s beautiful in here,” he said. He walked over to push aside the vines and flowers falling from the walls, examining the posters of old brand deals and photoshoots hidden under them. “Ooh, that one’s pretty— oh, alright, that’s nudity- um-” He stepped away, glancing at himself in the vanity mirror, before stopping beside the flowing stream, running his fingers through the small waterfall spilling over the wall. “Wow. It looks so much nicer in your room.”

“Thank you,” Bentinck said. “Can you leave now, please?”

“You sound very troubled,” George said sympathetically. “I love a Disciple too, you know. Her name is Anne, but this one’s Stewart, not Villiers.”

“I believe I noticed when you first came here,” Bentinck said, sitting back up on the ground. “How much did you hear?” Nosy bitch, he added silently, at which George made a visible effort to ignore.

“I’ve only been up here for a few minutes,” he said. “But when you’re sitting by the waterfall, it dims it a little. I couldn’t hear it from where I was, but the water seems to quiet you down, doesn’t it?”

“I guess.” Bentinck shifted uncomfortably. He’d never thought of it that way.

“So, James has your master? William?”

“Um—”

“Anne told me about it yesterday!” George said, his eyes brightening. “Oh, it sounds like they’re going to have a lot of fun over there. I mean, not fun for William,” he added apologetically, “nor very fun for your Anne, if her love for you is real.”

“It’s real!” Bentinck insisted.

“I don’t doubt it, but it’s hard to tell just through your thoughts,” George said. He shrugged. “I mean, loyalty to the Disciples is a very difficult thing, from what I hear. No one there is happy anymore, not under James— some never were happy. But you stay anyway, you know? It’s so hard to walk away.”

“I would have run from James a long time ago,” Bentinck said, finally letting all his thoughts back out into the open. Everything he tried to hide, he was sure George knew, either through James’ daughter or Marly or through his own observations. And out of everyone who could have had this power, perhaps George was the best choice, after all.

He’s not...technically an enemy. Bentinck sighed.

“No,” George said. “I could never be a Disciple, after everything James has done to Anne.” He leaned in and smiled down at Bentinck. “See, maybe you could run from them. But could you run from William?”

“Of course not, he’s my friend.” Bentinck shook his head, glared back up at George. “How many times do I have to say it to people? He’s not like James!”

“And if he were?”

“Then I wouldn’t love him like I do. It’s not that hard.” He rolled his eyes.

“It’s very easy to say you would leave,” George said. “But you didn’t grow up there. You didn’t see James as a younger man, you didn’t see the lengths he went to protect his daughters, you didn’t hear the promises he made to Marly and Maria. You didn’t hear the promises he made to everybody.”

“You think I don’t know how a cult works?” Bentinck asked.

“One would expect a better understanding from someone who’s in one.”

“The law may say we’re a cult,” Bentinck said, standing up again, “but we know what we really are. We are the protectors of the new faith, a new world that we’ll bring forth when all of you Allies are dead and the Disciples are defeated.” He stepped towards George, who backed away, his eyes widening. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“Yes- yes, very- ah, very well,” George stammered. “But you can’t say any of this is-”

“What? Is what?”

“I’ve looked deep into the minds of both Disciple and Devil.” He shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know how any of you can think like this. I don’t know how you can call yourselves good.”

“Must look that way to an outsider,” Bentinck said, watching with satisfaction as George seemed to melt back into the wall. “But James is the only true evil here.”

“Yes.” George swallowed. “Yes, he is.”

“I’m glad we can agree on that.” Bentinck turned away, splashing George with a flick of his fingers through the waterfall. “Maybe we can agree on something else.”

“Please don’t finish that thought.”

“We’ve both lost someone to James.”

“Anne isn’t dead.”

“Not yet, but-”

“Oh.” George’s eyes widened. “Your father.”

What? Bentinck looked at him with bewilderment before realizing who he’d been thinking about mere seconds before, the face that had come to his mind before he’d even known it.

No, it’s not him! That was a long time ago! But the images came anyway.

The flick of a blade in the air, a raised tail, horns gleaming with blood—

There’s so much of it.

A hand running through his hair—

It was all his fault.

Lies woven through promises, told through endlessly black eyes.

Stop listening- I know you’re there— ENOUGH!

George flinched back, and Bentinck looked to the waterfall, focusing on the sound until he thought the blood on his hands had washed away with the water.

“You’re right,” George said gently. “It was a long time ago. I’m sorry.”

“James can’t take William too.” Bentinck thought of nothing but his tongue forming the words. He would not lose William; he wouldn’t even dare imagine it.

“Truly, I would help you if I could. But I can’t say I condemn what James does and then turn around and align myself with William.” At the corner of his vision, George smiled. “I’m only here for Anne, no one else.” Bentinck heard him open the door. “You should probably go down there. Your followers are waiting for you.”

Damn them all, Bentinck wanted to say. Damn them if Anne is not among them any longer.

🝰🝰🝰

Mary wagged a finger at the camera as she spoke, addressing the thirty thousand people watching her. Sometimes, it was hard to love her followers, knowing that many would die when James ruled the nation, and that she deceived them, but having smoked enough tonight from her glass pipe, right now she loved them all equally. And she knew she meant more to them than any Ally. Whatever she said, they would respect her and listen, and slowly, they would find themselves under the world of the Disciples without even realizing.

That’s how we make them ours, James.

“Let me tell you something before I go, chat,” she said, leaning back on her chair. Glancing at the window, she saw that James was getting into one of his cars with Maria at his side, the sun setting over them. There was a strange pang in her chest as she watched them go, but it was only for a second, and then she was smiling back at the screen.

“I worry about the state of Altos Diablos, honestly. I don’t really like to talk about politics on stream, but you hear about the bombings and the assassination attempts...” She sighed at the thought, at how often she’d been at the heart of them. “And you just wonder, will it ever be safe? Grand Cabaret is becoming more and more openly hostile, and it’s looking like it might be war. Real war. And we haven’t had real war on this planet for a very long time.”

She flicked her eyes to the chat. Good, it was working; many said the same thing. A war was coming.

“Alright, I’ll be clear, then.” Now that I have you.

She leaned in from her chair, pushing the stuffed tigers and rabbits and wolves to the side, all of them gifts from either her fans or her father. Her followers adored them, had even helped name them, but there was no room for them now. “I don’t think it’s heresy to criticize our government,” she began. “Allies are chosen to lead us, so why is Master Lucky proving again and again that the devils might have been wrong?”

Yes, yes, yes, this was it— much of her chat was confused, but one by one they began to tentatively agree. She didn’t care if they said it just to please her, it did please her!

“Some Allies are better suited to other things with their fame,” she said. “For example, we would never say Ally Marly is qualified to lead us, right? Just because he’s an Ally?”

Devils below, can you imagine, she saw one message say as it flashed by, and she laughed.

“No, no, it’s unimaginable,” she said. “Lucky should have stuck with his position in the army. Such a military-minded man can’t lead a nation wanting peace! Here’s my idea!” She slammed her hand down on the table. “We get the devils back in charge! Bring back the Four Kingdoms! Summon them like the ancients used to do, get them to solve our problems for us! You know, I hear good things about the Hanoverian devils of the Eastern Kingdom.”

Are you okay? asked a donation as it popped up on the screen.

“Me? I’m great! Why would you ever ask that?” Mary shook her head in disbelief. “I mean, you know, I shouldn’t even answer! That’s not for you to know! I’m perfectly fine!”

They’re going to make you apologize for this later, said another subscriber.

“What? Who the fuck is they? The Allies? The devils?” Mary narrowed her eyes. “You guys? ‘Cause I’m not taking any of this back. Just because my daddy’s controversial doesn’t mean I have to be!” She groaned and leaned back against her chair again, pushing her hair from her face. She was sweating, she realized, and the pounding of her heart was agitating her.

“Just think about what I’m saying!” she yelled as she sat up. “It’s not radical to say the devils would do better! Because they would!”

Now they were getting worried; she was losing them. Some of them liked to see when she was high on stream, others not so much. It seemed like there were a lot of the “not so much” crowd here tonight.

“You’re all going to see one day, and you’ll be grateful for it,” she said. “Good night! I’ll be live later this week, maybe on Friday. Pretend this never happened.” With that, she ended the stream and started to laugh, picking up one of the wolves that had fallen to the floor. She held it close and laughed even harder.

It’s not long now, not long at all. James would fix everything. All the kids who had watched her when she started five years ago were now nearly adults, forming their own opinions of the world around them— and some of them would turn to her father for answers.

It was all going as he had intended. And who could ever suspect her, he liked to say.

“They love you more than I do.”

“By all the stars, Mary, what the fuck are you doing in there?” Her sister’s voice came from outside the door. “Are you high again?”

Mary nodded but didn’t answer. She spun herself around on her chair, humming as she pet the wolf.

“Damnit, Mary,” she heard Anne say. “Hurry up, I need to talk to you about something. Quickly, now that James isn’t here!”

“Ugh, fine, what is it?”

Anne opened the door, and Mary tossed the wolf at her face. Anne caught it rather clumsily, setting it back on the desk and walking over to lean against the window. Her tail closed the blinds behind her.

“You shouldn’t get high in front of so many people,” she said, glowering over at Mary as she searched through the files on her computer. “Are you listening? It’s already caused enough of a scandal!”

“And I’ll have you remember that that’s what got me so many followers,” Mary said, fanning herself playfully. “What do you want, anyway? You never come here. If you wanted to join in on the stream, it’s too late, and if you want drugs, you have to wait for James—”

“I don’t care about your stream or your crack, or whatever it was this time,” Anne snapped. “It’s about Monmouth.”

“Oh.” Mary laughed without meaning to. There was sickness at the back of her throat. “Pretty good fight, huh?”

“No,” Anne said, raising an eyebrow. “Not at all. I don’t care about the fight. I mean, I do, but-” She paused, making an effort to swallow. “But it’s over now. Monmouth is dead, our last hope is- he’s dead.”

“Last hope?” Mary shook her head. “That’s James. They may have the same name, but don’t confuse them with each other. Now that’s just insulting.”

“Our last hope to escape James, I mean!” Anne cried. “I wouldn’t want to see Monmouth rule either, but at least he wouldn’t have kept us here.”

“Escape?” Mary looked over at her, bewildered. “Come on, Anne, why on earth would you want to escape? We’re happy here! We’re safe! We’re going to inherit the world when James dies, and we’ll lead everyone to peace and prosperity, and they’re going to love us— we’ll be their saviors.” She waved her hand about as she spoke. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“I’ve never said I wanted that. And neither have you.” Anne flicked her tail dismissively. “Besides, you don’t just make people love you. You have to earn it. And you’ve done very little to earn it from this nation.”

“They’ll be grateful when they realize,” Mary murmured. She lifted her nails to her lips and nipped absently at them, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, it sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Anne said. “Ruling by fear?”

“No one’s afraid of us.”

“They should fear you.”

“Me?” Mary let out a shaky sigh. “They have nothing to fear from the Disciples as long as they obey.”

“And it’s the same with us,” Anne said. Her eyes were bright in the gathering darkness. “James is fine until he isn’t. You want to call living with him safe? You want to say we’re happy?”

“I’m very happy,” Mary said. She was drawing blood from her nails now; it hurt so bad.

“Mary, quit doing that,” Anne said, walking back over to her. “I know we- we have a destiny. But it could have been fulfilled without everything James has done to us. It could have been fulfilled without fear and pain.”

“No,” Mary breathed out. “Never. It was all necessary. Every drop of blood.”

“Even Charles?” Anne lashed her tail with frustration. “Don’t you see where this religious war got us? We’re losing people, everyone is losing people—”

“Charles was the most necessary death of all.”

“What? Yeah, maybe- maybe to you.” Anne stepped back as Mary stood up. “You’ve always wanted to see James in power.” She hesitated before adding, “He killed him, Mary. James killed his brother. You and I, we’ve always known it.”

“Oh, have we?” Mary laughed. “Why does everyone always say that?”

“Because it’s true. You know it is.”

“Maybe,” she said, glancing to the side towards the drawers under her desk. “But no one knows him like I do. Killing is a great thrill to him, but it all changes when you bring his brother into the equation. Of course he wanted Charles dead. He’d lost his mind, Anne, do you remember that? And he wasn’t even that old! Well, as it was, James saw that the Disciples needed a stronger leader, right? Someone more certain in where their destiny lay.”

“So he killed him,” Anne said. “We all know how it ends.”

“No, no, no, no!” Mary said, clapping her hands. “No, this is where it gets better. He loved Charles, you see. He always did! I mean, I can never understand that— if I had to kill you, I would.”

“What?”

“No, there’s no time!” Mary went on. “What was I saying? Ah, yes, I mean, no. James did not kill Charles! But he did tell me, one lovely night, that he was worried for his brother and for the Disciples. He told me he was so very, very concerned, that something had to pass...”

“He told you about this?” Anne’s eyes widened.

“Oh, he didn’t just tell me. He gave me one fascinating order, just one, but by far the greatest I have ever received—”

“You killed him.”

Mary nodded ruefully. “Should have seen the look on his face. Poor thing.”

“Mary, you-” Anne raised her voice. “You killed him—!”

“Yes. So, you know, in the end, I guess James and I did betray him.” Mary opened a drawer and dug through the tangled wires. “It was out of love, or whatever you want the excuse to be today.”

“You’re heartless,” Anne whispered. “Did you see the state of his body?”

“Of course I did, I’m the one who left it like that.” Mary found what she was looking for and turned to Anne. “So what now?”

“What now?”

“Well, you know, James kind of told me to...kill anyone who found out?” Mary pulled one of her knives out from the wires, twisting it in her fingers and lifting it up towards Anne. “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know why I told you any of this. I guess I thought it would be kind of funny, but now you have to die, so...not really.”

“You’re going to kill me?” Anne stumbled back, holding her hand out defensively. “Right now?”

“Yeah, when else do you want me to do it? When I’m sober?” With that, Mary lunged at Anne, shoving her back against the wall and raising the knife over her head.

Anne gasped and caught Mary’s hand by the wrist, lifting a leg to kick her in the stomach. Mary grunted sharply and fell back, and Anne tossed her head back as hard as she could, her horns shattering the window behind her.

“Fuck, you’re paying for that!” Mary shouted. Frantically, as Anne ducked out of the window, Mary drove the knife forward, managing to pin the tip of Anne’s tail to the wall. She heard the scream come from outside at the same time she heard a snap, and then she was staring at nothing but broken glass and the fluffy, decorated tip of her sister’s tail.

She’ll bleed out! Mary pulled the knife out and thoughtlessly followed Anne through the window, letting out a yelp as she landed hard on her feet, pausing to catch her breath. She saw Anne’s tail disappear through the trees ahead, and Mary ran after her. She hadn’t expected to kill someone today, but she wasn’t complaining.

She wasn’t tired yet, simply winded; she thought she could run forever. Anne certainly couldn’t, Mary thought as she advanced on the lashing tail. 

Just as it came within reach, as her fingers brushed the bloody fur, her foot halted under her, running into what might have been a branch or a lifted root. She let out a cry as she fell forward, managing to catch herself before she landed on her face.

By the stars. She propped herself up against the tree behind her, realizing how loud she was panting. It was the only thing breaking the silence here; sometimes it would be the screams of James’ prisoners, but no one would ever find them here. Anne had already disappeared.

“Oh,” Mary gasped, lifting her head to the sky. She had almost caught up. And then what?

Even if I loved you once...

Of course, she should have guessed. James hadn’t been able to kill Charles, either.

🝰🝰🝰

He was woken by Spencer after a fitful night of sleep, a boot’s heel slamming into the tip of his tail. He bit into the gag and hissed like he had when he was a child, but Spencer wasn’t fazed. He took hold of one of William’s horns and lifted his aching head up, tying a blindfold over his eyes, and then tugged at the rope around William’s wrists, forcing him to stand.

He was pushed back onto a wooden stool, where Spencer tilted his head up with the slightest of touches. He felt something fitted around his neck— a collar. It was made of leather, William could tell. It seemed to tighten around his neck when something was clipped onto it from the front, a chain judging by the rattling sound.

“That will do very well,” Spencer murmured as he pushed the hair out from under the collar, brushing it back with what might have been a comb.

There was the sound of something else clicking and jingling, and William realized there were horn bands being clipped around his horns, the gold chains and assorted gems being spread between them. Then he heard something like scraping above him, his head being jerked back. His horns were being trimmed, but to what extent, he could not guess.

He felt the chain go taut, forcing his head to tilt slightly upwards. The gag was slipped out of his mouth, and he let out a relieved gasp, taking deep breaths.

“What- what’s all this for?” he asked.

There was silence on Spencer’s end save for footsteps heard a distance away. William lashed his tail indignantly. “You do not get to ignore an Overlifer. Is this for the trial?”

“I don’t like it when dogs bark senselessly at me,” Spencer said, his voice coming closer. “Open.”

“For what?”

He was met with a backhanded slap to the face. He stumbled to the side, nearly falling off the stool if it weren’t for Spencer pulling him back up by the chain. The sting became a burn when he felt a gloved hand cup around his cheek, the thumb forcing itself past his lips. William huffed and bit down as hard as he could.

“Fuck—!” Spencer sprung back. “See, this is the thing about all Western spirits. They all bite.”

“Call me a spirit again and it’ll be your throat next,” William growled.

Again, Spencer did not answer. Instead, he felt fingers dig into his hair, pulling him out of the stool and then slamming his face against the wall. William’s teeth came down on his tongue, and as he stumbled back he tasted blood over his lips as well, falling from his nose. He thought he could have fainted. The hanging gems rattled by his ears.

“Oh, James isn’t going to like that look,” Spencer said, the wince evident from his tone. “But I have a feeling the hot stick wouldn’t have worked on you, anyway. Will you behave now?”

“You- you really think—”

William was cut off by his tail being suddenly twisted at the base, where the sharp bend was. He let out a fierce hiss through clenched teeth, and Spencer’s free hand came around his neck, pinning his head back on the Disciple’s shoulder.

“We cannot have a trial and execution without obedience and discipline,” Spencer said. “Count the seconds I hold your tail this way or it will only get worse.” As he spoke, he coiled the tail around and around his wrist, and William gasped, kicking fiercely at Spencer’s legs behind him.

“I will kill you myself—!”

“Common, easy threat,” Spencer said. “But a false one. You will not get out of here to kill anyone ever again. Count for me, little one.”

Little one! William tried to think of any spells that would work without any slip of paper, but that was an ability reserved for Allies and his six life. A life that, if all went horribly wrong here, he would reach soon.

He tried to kick again, but Spencer curled his own tail around William’s legs. His breath was warm beside William’s cheek.

“Go on,” he said. “Just count. It’s so easy.”

“Fuck you,” William snapped.

“So it shall be this way,” Spencer said. He brought his hand back up to William’s hair and pushed his body down against the floor. William winced as his chin came down on it, dust rising up beside him.

Not now! He inhaled sharply and coughed, feeling Spencer’s heel on his back as he tried to sit back up on his legs.

He felt his tail bent over something like a ledge, what might have been a cell door. “Same as before,” he heard Spencer say. “Just say it.” He began to press William’s tail down over the ledge with one hand, the other pulling back on the tip.

William coughed again, a shudder running through his body. He would not count, he would not do anything these Disciples told him to do. Yet it was taking a greater and greater effort to keep his mouth shut, whimpers beginning to form along with his wheezes.

No, no, no, don’t make a sound.

He felt something snap at his tail where Spencer was holding it. He bit his lip hard, failing to muffle a shriek, but Spencer did not stop.

“That’s just a few bones,” he said. “There’s more where that came from. I will go until all of this tail is broken, if I have to.”

“One—!” William cried hurriedly. “Two. Three. Four.”

“Very good. Until ten.”

“Five. Six.” Tears came to William’s eyes as Spencer squeezed his fist around the broken bones. “S-Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten, now let go!”

Spencer dropped the tail, and William curled it in with much effort, trying to catch his breath. He was forced up to his knees by the chain on his collar, cutting away yet more air.

“Now,” Spencer said, “that looks good.” There was another gag shoved into his open mouth, but this time his lips did not close around it. It was his bloody tongue hanging out instead, leaving his jaws open, drool forming there relentlessly. The blood was cleaned from his face, his shirt unbuttoned so his saliva would not stain it. At this he turned away with a grunt of displeasure.

There was the sound of a phone ringing, and Spencer dropped back. “Good morning, sir,” William heard him say, “did you sleep well?”

There was a pause, and then Spencer laughed. “I was just asking. Yes, he’s still here.”

Is he talking to James? William tugged at the ropes around his wrists. He tried to push his tail in between the knots, but the force of it would send a sharp pain from the bottom of his spine all the way to his horns. He shuddered and tried to swallow back a groan.

“Yes, I’ve been doing- yes, I know,” Spencer was saying. “But he’s given me quite a challenge, I-” He stopped, then sighed. “Yes, he will be there. I broke his tail, and maybe his nose, too- oh, please—” There was the sound of something whipping the air; an irritated tail, no doubt. “It’ll be difficult to get him to hold still. I’ve just made it easier for you. No, I haven’t- he’s not dead— fine, give me a moment. I’ll be there soon.”

William jerked his head back in the chain, only for it to pull him forward onto the ground. It was in something of a daze that he realized Spencer was pulling his hair again, dragging him outside, the approving hisses of the spirits fading behind him.

Maybe I will die here. It came to him like a thunderbolt. He should have fought like one, but then—

He recognized the motion all over again, the roughness of being shoved into the trunk of a car. He tried to kick out at Spencer, but his movements felt too sluggish, his head pounding like he was high all over again. But there was no peace here, only a dim sensation of panic as he felt a hand run through his hair.

“I see now why you were granted six lives,” Spencer said.

What? William’s face flushed as he felt the saliva wiped away from his chin again. He heard Spencer step back, and the door was shut over him.

At least his mouth was open this time. With the movement of the car, though, he felt something else begin to drag him below, where the devils lay. They wanted him now. In a dizzying moment he came to the conclusion that his father was among them, and that he had to fight, but he did not want to...the darkness became absolute; what a waste.

🝰🝰🝰

Bentinck’s phone was ringing again, late into the night. He felt as if he’d been on calls for most of the day, scolding the Madams and the bombers and the dealers for their insolence to their Overlifer, who was perfectly fine, thank you very much, he will get back to you in a few days, now stop calling; he’s very busy. Nobody needed to know William had been captured and that he wasn’t back yet.

Well, he would be back tonight, Bentinck had decided, before anyone found out. He wasn’t sure where William was, but maybe stopping by some of the Stewarts’ many residences would give him a clue. Or, better yet, he was already there.

Right now, however, he had to answer this last call. He picked up the phone, his sigh becoming a groan when he saw who it was.

He answered and placed it on the table as he worked on loading his gun. “Hello, Bidloo,” he said. Of course, the one man who William would trust with this information was also the most annoying.

“I’m outside,” Bidloo said.

“What?”

“Outside...your house. Open up.” “I’m sure William would appreciate your concern, but there’s no need for you to come in,” Bentinck said, laughing nervously. He shrugged off the tension on his shoulders and tried to remember what some of the Infernal spells were, in particular the ones spoken in the dialect of the Southern Kingdom. Those were the most useful, but the most elusive.

“I will bomb the place if I must,” Bidloo said. “What are you doing this time? How many men are in there?”

“It’s- it’s just me, Bidloo,” Bentinck said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re planning to go get him by yourself, aren’t you?”

“Well, who else is going to?”

“I could do it. Easily.”

“Then why haven’t you?” Bentinck snapped. “Look, you’re welcome to try, but you know you were never very good at the spells, nor protecting yourself from them. And they all know you well, especially James— he’s got a reason to want vengeance, after all the Disciples you’ve institutionalized.”

“Oh, yes,” Bidloo said, as if he were remembering a fun day of his childhood and not the countless sessions of torture.

“Well, here’s something you don’t know,” Bentinck said. “You don’t care about death. It’s all impersonal to you, isn’t it? Doctor.”

“Oh, you know, it puts food on the table.”

“It would be a waste to let you go out there and kill everyone who stands in your way,” Bentinck went on, “because it would mean nothing. Meanwhile, I have something I need to do over there. Right now, they’ve taken my friend, and when I was a boy, you know James-”

“Murdered my father,” Bidloo interrupted. He barked out a laugh. “So you think only you can kill him. You think it’s only fair.”

“No, William has to do that, but...maybe just one life.”

“You don’t make the death of a person right by killing someone else,” Bidloo said. “You’re just killing more people. Revenge is just a concept, Hansi.”

“Don’t call me that,” Bentinck said, his face flushing.

“In any case, sounds like you’ll get way too caught up in other things that don’t pertain to the mission. Like your emotions.” Bidloo lowered his voice. “You’ll need someone there to orient you. With your power, you could become a truly threatening force to the Disciples. You just need to focus.”

“I’m not going to let you come with me.”

“Why not? I have something that you know you need. You can’t go out there without it.”

“Really? You?” Bentinck snorted. “And what the fuck could that be?”

“Some doll named Anne Villiers,” Bidloo said, yawning as he said the name. “The spy who deceived you. You, Bentinck, she deceived you. Someone who should have seen the motivations of the Disciples in her long before they came to fruition. Alas...your emotions were quite a distraction, weren’t they?”

“You—!” Bentinck jolted. “You have her?”

“She came to our facility, yes,” Bidloo said. “She was asking for you. Silly girl, I took care of her for you, don’t worry.”

Bentinck hung up and walked outside, past his gardens and past his gate, where Bidloo was waiting in his car, poking his cat-like face out of the window. His rather jarring appearance was illuminated by the fluorescent street lamp above; while one horn was huge, striped, curling in towards Bidloo’s head in the typical Northern manner, the other was cut short near the base, the remains of it unevenly spiked.

“Did you kill her?” He felt as if his heart had frozen in his chest, tensing for the answer.

“No, she has valuable information, I’m sure,” Bidloo said. “But she refuses to share it with me. She said she needed to speak to you outside of your meeting hours, but didn’t know where to look— save for our facility, of course, seeing as there’s a Devil running around the place.” He pointed a finger at himself with a chuckle. “She showed me the R and said she could do dreadful things to me if I didn’t help her.”

“She threatened you?”

Bidloo shrugged and rolled down one of the back windows. “Ask her yourself.”

He looked up, refusing to believe that he saw her then, sitting behind Bidloo, her eyes wide as she brought a hand up to adjust the hair around her face. It was that movement that convinced him; it was Anne.

“Hans!” She leaned out the window, accidentally kicking Bidloo as she did so. “I- I thought he was lying, and he was going to kill me, or something— like he has with everyone else. He was kind of rough, I mean—” She paused, looking up at Bentinck’s stunned face. “Oh...”

“Anne,” he breathed. “You did come back.”

She hesitated before opening the door and leaping into his arms, squeezing her own around his neck as if she’d been waiting for it. “I love you, Hans, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” Her voice broke, and she seemed to become smaller, burying her face in his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“You know I would always forgive you.” Bentinck stroked at her hair, surprising himself with the truth. “From the moment I realized, I forgave you.”

“No...” She looked up again. “But that’s what made it so easy, Hans.”

“It was worth it.”

“You- you know, I didn’t want to leave you.” She let out a bitter sigh. “I didn’t want to lie to you, either, but Mary ordered it of me, and James, he- well, you know James.”

“Too well,” Bentinck growled. “This is all his doing, Anne.”

“The truth is, I didn’t do it just for him,” Anne said, her gaze hardening over. “I mean, for Mary, of course I would do anything for her. But after everything you’ve told me about William...I thought that maybe you would-” She stopped as Bentinck leaned in, his eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“You think I would be better off without him,” he said.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Hans.”

“He’s my friend, Anne, for the last time—”

“If Mary treated me like William treats you, I would have already left the Disciples,” Anne cut in. “And come to you. But there’s a reason I’ve stayed.”

“If William treated me like how you say he does, I would have already left, too,” Bentinck said firmly. “I know you mean the best, but- but he’s my friend, and I love him, and now he is in danger because you- because you thought it was good for me.” He turned towards Bidloo, trying and failing to blink away his tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do now.”

“I’m sorry. I knew it would be this way.” Anne’s hand slipped into his.

“Just don’t- don’t get caught up in things that don’t concern you.” He ran his thumb over her hand, though he intended mostly to soothe himself. He felt scars there, near her wrist.

“One last time, then?”

“What?” He turned his head back to her.

“Tonight is William’s trial,” she said, “and his first execution. It may have already started. That’s why I had to find you again. I don’t like him, but things would only get worse if we let this happen.”

“What?” Bidloo spat from the front. “And you didn’t think to tell me that first?”

“Why would I tell you anything? You kind of kidnapped me.” Anne waved him off. “We have to go, Hans.”

“Yes- yes, let’s go.” Bentinck started to step away, but then glanced back at Bidloo. “And I suppose you’d like to take us there.”

Bidloo turned his icy gaze to the Ally. “Why, thank you for the invitation.”

🝰🝰🝰

A hand came down on his head, pulling at his hair and jolting him out of his uneasy sleep. He was still breathing hard, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, becoming more dizzy with every sharp wheeze of his. He deliriously wondered if he had lost a life, and now the cold air that he was breathing in was from the realm of the devils.

“William. Hello, darling.”

No devil could speak like this. He turned his head to the side, and a thumb suddenly shoved itself into his mouth, forcing his tongue down with a sharp nail. He gasped, heard laughing from above.

“He looks like a mess,” came the voice. It was James, William realized, and it made the reality before him more certain. He had to escape or he would die.

No one is coming to save you!

He kicked a leg out, trying to sit up, and the chain on his neck was pulled hard, forcing him up on his knees. He lashed his tail behind him, letting out a heavy sigh at the renewed pain there. He had almost forgotten.

“Come on out, step lively! You’ve been sleeping all day.” That was Spencer’s voice, the voice of a snake as cheerful as ever. There was a gloved hand on one arm, a firmer one on the other, helping him stand with deceitful kindness. He swayed on his feet, wondering if he should run now, but the chain remained taut. He wouldn’t get far.

Or I’ll just fall on my nose. He looked up, trying to make anything out through the blindfold.

“You know, it’s kind of nice, this silence from you,” James said, his voice making William’s head seem heavier. Like a venomous lullaby. “It’s nothing at all, really, but it’s a sound that few are blessed to hear.” The hand came back around William’s head, another one on his cheek, the same one that had been in his mouth seconds before. He recognized the movement, his heart speeding up.

He jerked his head back, but James brought him closer still, slipping his tongue into William’s mouth. It wasn’t a kiss; no, this was the first taste of many that would undoubtedly come later, and some would venture further than others. He stifled a cry, trying to lift his head as James ran his tongue along the roof of William’s mouth, down to his teeth, and finally his lips, where the tongue lapped away William’s drool and replaced it with its own.

Devils below. He shuddered as James stepped back, his breath leaving him when he bent forward and began to retch, the tip of his tail shaking. He might have fallen if it weren’t for the hand buried in his hair keeping him up. He wasn’t sure if anything came out of him, but he could taste nothing at the back of his throat.

“I thought your father would have taught you better than that,” James said, the disapproval evident in his voice. “Well, Spencer, bring him in. I have to make sure everything is ready. I can trust you to watch him again, yes?”

“It’s been my great pleasure, sir.”

What was this place? The heat as Spencer pushed him inside convinced William it was a Hoerenkast, a strange choice for an execution. These places meant nothing to Overlifers, and it would surely be noticed if someone was brought to die here, especially someone like William.

They were all watching, he thought, and laughing. No one cared. He’d kill them all when he got free.

“We’re coming to some stairs,” Spencer said into his ear. “Be careful. We have time.”

Stairs? William could hardly keep himself up when he was still. His legs shook as he was pulled up the steps, his tail held out stiffly behind him in an instinctual attempt to keep him balanced despite the sharp pains near both the base and the tip. Spencer still held on to him, though William was tempted to bat him off. He didn’t need help for this.

He fell to his knees once they made it to the top and he heard a door close behind him, his head still forced up by the chain. The collar felt as if it were choking him, cutting off the air he had already so desperately needed. He hoped he wouldn’t have another attack— Spencer was not the sort to help him.

“Oh, little one,” he heard Spencer say, a tail running under his chin, “we can’t have you passing out in front of everyone. Would you like some water?”

Please! William nodded rapidly. His throat had been increasingly dry these past few days; he had been given nothing to eat nor drink. Eating very little he was used to, often skipping meals since he was a boy, but the pangs in his stomach could hardly go unnoticed now, and water he could not go without. Certainly he couldn’t escape like this.

“I know where I can find your weakness,” Spencer said, his voice low behind William. “You’re very easy, you know.” A sharp heel dug into William’s back then, pushing him down so that his chin rested on the floor. Before him, he could hear the gentle running of water, and realized that they must have been by one of the Hoerenkast’s streams.

“There’s your water,” Spencer said. “Drink.”

This was the water he was offering William? From the warm stream, where countless Allies had sat before? He shook his head, trying to lift himself back up again, but Spencer brought his heel down on his head next, sending a fire down William’s spine. He grunted and narrowed his eyes under his blindfold.

This will be the first and last time you treat an Overlifer this way. Who did Spencer think he was, treating William like a common spirit? Even rival Overlifers deserved respect.

He doesn’t believe in me. He felt his face warming up, whether it was from anger or embarrassment he couldn’t say, but he heard Spencer sigh.

“Are you going to make me regret this? Drink.”

Like a fucking dog? William took a shaky breath, but obeyed, bowing his head further to lap from the stream. It was bitter, bringing no relief with its warmth, and then he realized he couldn’t even swallow with his mouth forced open. He tried again, lapping up more, but he only coughed once it reached his throat, feeling it drip back out of his mouth.

You sly fucking rat. He shuddered as the heel pressed down harder on his head. What had he looked like to Spencer? Like the obedient little spirit the Disciple wanted?

Well, he would never be that. He paused, then sprung up, throwing Spencer’s heel off of him. He turned his head around wildly, when he felt a hand grip his hair hard, forcing his head up until tears came to his eyes.

“Behave,” Spencer said simply, and then his head was pushed into the water. William gasped involuntarily, water filling his throat until he choked on it, his open mouth still refusing to swallow it. He stiffened, spasms running down his back to his tail. His nose was burning; he thought the water might have been boiling—

“Had enough of a drink?” Spencer asked as he brought William back up again.

William was still gasping, coughing with water running from his nose and lips. Inexplicably, he was trying to swallow, but it only made him choke more, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

He heard the door open, a stern, familiar voice say, “Is he ready? James is about to make the announcement.” It was Ally Marly, and even in the midst of this shitshow William felt the fur on his tail stand straight up at the sound. “What are you doing to him?”

“He wanted a drink,” Spencer replied, “so I gave him one.”

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” The chain on William’s collar was pulled upwards, his hair being tugged along with it, and he stumbled to his feet, too stunned to do anything but follow the two Disciples. “James isn’t going to be happy with how you made such a mess of his hair.”

“Cute, isn’t he?”

Marly snorted. “Sure.”

He was going to die for the third time. He couldn’t say it scared him, but with every step his body only shook more, the emptiness in his stomach growing.

🝰🝰🝰

Only the most trusted of Disciples were allowed to watch the execution of their greatest enemy, only the most useful. They were all here, all people Mary knew and hardly liked, just as she despised the looming presence of the Tenth Honor Hoerenkast. She supposed it was all a very symbolic, triumphant thing, to kill an Overlifer in the temple of their most obnoxious rivals, but she couldn’t stand the devils that were watching from the stained glass or the tapestries. At least it was only them, and no one else— Marly had asked all the servants and other Allies to leave the place to him today, for an “event.”

Stupid, obedient Disciples. Everybody here, standing in the largest meeting room where Marly usually met with his starry-eyed followers, waiting for their glorious Overlifer to begin speaking. She didn’t know why, but today, she hated them all.

James was sitting on Marly’s throne, smoking as always, his head leaning on Maria’s shoulder as she stood beside him. They were speaking to each other, and though Mary was closest to them she couldn’t make out anything. It was only when Maria looked up and beckoned for her to come that she heard what James was complaining about.

“Where is your sister, Mary? We can’t start if everyone isn’t here.” He twitched his tail furiously with annoyance. “She’s always doing this shit.”

“I don’t know,” Mary said honestly. She hadn’t seen Anne since she had fled yesterday. She had kind of expected her to return at some point, which made no sense, now that she thought about it. Coming back wouldn’t mean she would be spared, especially if James knew now.

But he didn’t know. Mary had decided not to tell him— she could handle Anne on her own, and when she was dead she could tell James all about it and watch his eyes light up with pride. For now, though, he didn’t have to know, because then Anne didn’t have to die just yet; there was no clock ticking for Mary, urging her to do it now, now, now, kill your sister.

She could do it whenever she liked. She could decide all on her own. It wasn’t deceit or treason, surely, as long as she still did it.

She would do it, of course. She wasn’t like James. For now, she just had to deal with the displeasure on his face as he looked around the room, then sank back into the throne with a sigh, lifting his cigarette to his lips. “She’ll hear about this when she gets back,” he muttered, “I’ll drill it right into her fucking skull.” Oh, Anne. Mary sighed. Always making things worse for yourself.

“And your little Villiers friends?” James asked. “I see Elizabeth, but where is Anne?”

“That...I don’t know, either.” That was a little bit more worrying, though at least this Anne had the advantage of having actually pleased James immensely a few days back. He couldn’t be too harsh on her, could he? She was the reason they were all here.

“I’m starting to suspect treason from your sister,” James said, “and insolence from your friend. Tame that girl, Mary, or I’ll have to do it myself. As I must do all things around here,” he added with a yawn.

I’m sorry, you’ll have to remind me who captured William and who didn’t, came the tempting retort in Mary’s mind, but she only smiled and bowed her head.

“Yes, sir.”

“James, please, today is supposed to be a happy day,” Maria said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mary could see that she was already tense, the tip of her tail stiffly twitching behind her. “Don’t stress too much about it, you’ll make your nose bleed again.”

“I’m not stressed,” James snapped, batting her off. “But can you blame me for wanting my daughter here to witness this victory? This is the longest she’s been out of my sight, and it is at the worst possible time.”

“It’s barely been a day,” Maria said. She reached down to take his hand, lifting it to her lips to kiss it. “She’ll come back. Just get on with it, before William finds a way to escape. The longer we wait, the less time we have before someone inevitably comes and tries to rescue him.”

“We don’t have to wait for them,” Mary added.

James paused, then stood up, kissing Maria on the cheek as he did so. “Very well,” he said. “We shall begin.”

Finally. Mary stepped back, taking her place back beside Elizabeth. She had no regrets over this, none at all; she only wished she could have been the one to capture and kill William, as had been the original plan for years. It was a simpler way for him to go, the way Charles would have liked, without ceremony nor honor. But Charles was dead, and now his brother...

Well, he’s a little different, isn’t he? She took a deep breath and looked up at her father. And William was never meant to go out so easily, by the hands of someone like—

You.

“Welcome, all Disciples, to the first of many trials for our captured Overlifer,” James began. “This is an ancient ceremony, one that hasn’t been performed for centuries. However, today I’d like to bring it back as a celebration of our victory. Our enemies are now on the verge of defeat. We have their leader.”

No one else deserves him. Mary held her hand over her heart. It was going too fast for all the nothing that was going on. So do it, James.

Kill him.

“The Overlifer must answer for his crimes,” James went on. “He must admit that what he did to us was wrong, and that his existence, in reality, holds no meaning. He must acknowledge me as the true authority of humanity. He must beg for my forgiveness.” His eyes glinted, and the Disciples all leaned in with interest. “But it will not be granted.”

At that, the curtains flew open behind the audience, and they all looked back to see William himself, dragged in by Ally Marly and the spirit handler Robert Spencer. At the sight of him the Disciples began to cheer and roar, jeering at him as he walked by each of them.

“Fucking snake! Look at him drool!”

“Half-drowned mouse!”

“We got Spencer on this guy? He must be pretty damn weak!”

“Call snake’s eye for an eye, sir, let him service us!”

“Bring him down!”

“Let him kneel!”

Devils below. Mary’s eyes widened as William came by her. He was in an even worse state now, wheezing through his open mouth as water dripped down his face and hair. The tip of his tail was strangely twisted, his shirt ruffled and torn open at his chest, a blindfold tied around his head. His horns, however, were trimmed into sharper and neater points than Mary remembered, with chains of gold tied in between them.

“Kneel before James Stewart, animal,” Marly said, slamming his heel down on William’s tail. William jumped, hissing under his breath, and Marly pulled on the chain on his collar, bringing him down before the stream running in front of the throne. Spencer bowed towards James, then ducked back into the crowd of Disciples, his eyes flashing as he watched William.

What’s he looking at him that way for? Mary shook herself with disgust.

“Wasted no time,” she heard James say as Marly handed him the chain. “Good boy.”

Marly made no comment, merely sat beside James on the armrest of the throne and smiled down at William.

Self-satisfied cunt. Mary rolled her eyes and fixed her gaze on William. Under the dim light of the candles above he was beautiful, a figure at its finest when it was bound, his wet locks gleaming like his eyes would have had it not been for the blindfold. With his head forced up, he looked as if he were defying James.

“Look at that,” Elizabeth muttered beside her.

“I’m looking.”

James cleared his throat, and the whole room fell silent. They all watched their Overlifer stand, his eyes no longer anything but cold, his lips letting loose gray smoke. He brought the chain closer and stepped over the stream..

“Look upon this blasphemer, this criminal,” he said. “William Henry Nassau; our most persistent enemy, and the most convincing of liars. I shudder to think what deceit he infects his Devils with to ensure their loyalty to the wrong Overlifer.”

Really? Mary could almost laugh.

“When he is dead, the Devils will come under my control, under the right Overlifer,” James continued. He stepped forward, pulling the chain up until William was forced to lift himself off his legs. “They shall never remember you, William. You, who were born through evil, and have led the life that your father wrote out for you from the moment you were born.” He curled his lip back in disgust. “It’s pathetic to watch. You’re just like your mother.”

Why bring that up now? Mary swallowed. He just had to get it over with!

William’s only response was a wide lash of his tail. James glanced at the audience, then pressed his cigarette down on William’s tongue.

The shriek that came from him was what broke the spell; as he fell back, crying out and shaking his head, the Disciples began to laugh again, some of them clapping their hands. Maria’s eyes widened behind James, but she said nothing.

“Our glorious leader has finally gotten a scream out of the imperturbable Defender of the Faith!” Marly yelled, invoking the ancient name for the leader of the Devils of Orange-Nassau. “Long live James Stewart, long live the Restoration!”

The Disciples echoed his call, Elizabeth joining in with much enthusiasm. Mary hesitated, then lifted her head to take up the cry, watching William furiously pull back on the chain. James did not look up, kept his gaze frozen there, upon William. The only indication of life from him was his tail swaying slowly behind him in satisfaction.

He raised his hand, and the Disciples eagerly shut up again in no time at all. James brought his hand down to lift William’s head, untying the gag and pulling it out of his mouth. There was a pause as William swallowed, closing his mouth and then opening it once more, this time to spit at James, “Fuck you!”

Oh, William. Mary shook her head, the gasps of the Disciples audible around her.

“Is that all you can say?” James asked. “Nothing to defend yourself?”

“I don’t- I don’t have to defend anything that I-” William cut himself off with a cough. “That I have ever done. I know who the real Overlifer is here. It’s not you, you- you fucking fraud! Do you think you have any right to treat me this way? If I would ever kill you, th-there would be no ceremony! You don’t fucking deserve it, you piece of shit, fucking creep—”

“Do you realize from where you’re talking right now?” James tilted his head to the side. “I can make your death so much more painful than it has to be.”

“Ha!” William laughed viciously. “You were already planning on that. Sadistic bitch!”

“What was that?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear? I knew you were getting old, but you’re hardly in your fifties!” William laughed again. “But you did hear! I called you a bitch and a sadist, both, even—”

James drove his knee upward, striking right under William’s chin, sending him flying back against the floor. He let out a hiss as his head landed, and James snorted, circling him with a flicking tail.

“Had your fill?” he asked. “Insolent brat.”

Mary’s breath hitched as William sat up again. “Never,” he said. “Lying, cheating, arrogant viper, relying on your daughter to do everything for you! Lazy, apathetic—”

It was James’ turn to hiss like a primitive devil. He took William by the neck and forced his head under the water at the stream, bringing his heel down onto it again and again. He took William’s flailing tail and twisted it around his wrist.

“Holy shit,” Elizabeth snorted.

Now he’s really mad. Mary looked down at the floor, her vision blurring before her. It was just as it had been at the fight— this sick uncertainty in her, even without her father’s eyes on her. But they would turn towards her soon, she was sure of it.

“Are you alright?” she heard Elizabeth ask. “Mary, pay attention.”

“I- I know.” Mary inhaled sharply. “It’s just- just the drugs again.” She looked up again, realized with horror that her father was looking straight at her.

“You do not get to say anything about my family,” James growled, nodding once at Mary and then glaring back down at William. “What do you think you would know? Hm?” He pulled William back out, kicking him in the side as he bowed his head, coughing and taking in raspy breaths. Surprisingly, he managed to bite back any noise this time, though he shuddered at the impact.

“Nothing to say now?” James smiled back at the stunned audience, as pleasant as he had been at the beginning. “Very well. Let the trial begin. Like the fight from before, it can only end in one way— death, as many times as it must come to him.” He brought William’s head back up by the chain, speaking over the hacking coughs. “William Henry Nassau is charged with the following crimes—”

“You- you and your fucking theatrics!” William cut in with evident effort. “Flashy bitch! That’s why you have- you’ve got your wife on one arm and an Ally on the other! An affair with an Ally, now that’s fucking rich from an- an Overlifer who claims he’s valid!”

Shut up, William, by the stars! What did he think he could do from this position?

Maria narrowed her eyes and glared at Marly, flicking her tail dismissively at him. James looked between the both of them, then turned back to William, his eyes bright with rage.

“Oh, you never know when to shut up, do you?” he snarled. He lifted William up by his collar and stepped over the water, throwing him back against the throne. “Then let us go through your crimes this way, shall we?”

“I plead guilty to all of them.” William curled his lip back in a sneer, his tail twitching erratically.

“So you admit it,” James said. “That you did send assassins after me, my brother, and my most valuable Disciples.” As he spoke, he drove his fist into William’s face, hard enough for William’s head to bounce back and blood to begin dribbling out of his mouth and nose.

“Yes,” William gasped out. He still bared his teeth.

“That you did kidnap, torture, and execute hostages you promised to return to us unharmed.” James dug his fingers into William’s hair and shoved him back to the ground, keeping his hold on William’s head to land another blow on it.

“Yes.” William bit hard into his lip, making a sound like he was trying to swallow, and James let him fall.

“That you did cause the death of my people in your terrorist attacks all throughout the nation, whether it was intentional or not.” He landed another vicious kick in William’s ribs, then his neck, and finally his head, where a startling crack was heard from his horns.

“Yes.” From where Mary was standing, she could not see his face as he answered.

James took the chain from William’s collar and swung it carelessly around in his hands. This time he did not pull William up, rather he let him stay on the ground, and instead raised the chain behind him and then brought it down against William’s back.

“AUGH—!” William roared, his whole body jolting, and the Disciples leaned in with renewed fascination.

“That you did intercept our lines of weapons, narcotics, Westerners and Northerners, whatever it may be, and caused us a great loss in profit.” James folded the length of the chain in, bringing it down again with more force.

William’s answer came in his scream. “Yes—!”

“That you did disrespect me and my divine authority.” James held his foot over the tip of William’s tail and did the same as before. Mary swore the screams were louder this time.

“Yes!”

James didn’t pause anymore, not beyond a few seconds between each lash of the chain. “That you did murder your mother as a boy.” His voice seemed to grow quieter with every accusation, as if in a nervous anticipation.

“Yes, by the stars— yes!” William was still quick to answer, though Mary thought he might have been choking on his own blood, dizzy with agony even she couldn’t imagine.

“Murdered his mother? What’s all that about?” Elizabeth murmured.

Mary shook her head helplessly. To James, it must have looked that way, and he must have believed in it; therefore he was correct.

“That you did break the promise you made to her before her death,” he went on. He kicked William again, knocking him back down as he tried to right himself under the relentless whipping. The chain made a lovely, unfamiliar sound as it came down.

William let out a long, breathless shriek, breaking off with a retching cough. “YES!”

“That you did murder my brother,” James finished, pulling William closer by the chain and lifting him in the air by his neck. He really was so small. “Three times over.”

William did not answer, and James smiled as he lifted the blindfold from his eyes, revealing the many bruises underneath. But those very eyes were still narrowed in defiance and hatred as they raked over James.

“I-”

“It’s a yes or no question, William, don’t make this difficult for us,” James said, squeezing his fingers tighter around his throat. “It’s the same as all the other ones.”

I’m so sorry, Mary thought, involuntarily, then cursed herself for it. But she saw William’s eyes roll back, heard his breaths begin to quiet down, and thought right then of how needless it all was, every drop of blood spilled to arrive at this moment, every breath stolen away. She wasn’t satisfied at all.

And you, William? Would you do the same? She focused on his quivering lips. He wanted to say something. Of course he did.

“You’re asking the wrong person, sir,” came a firm voice from behind the audience.

Mary turned, along with all the rest of the Disciples, and recognized her sister there, illuminated by the numerous candles near the entrance. Her eyes shone as she lifted her head, and Mary realized that behind her stood what must have been an Ally, if she could guess from his dark eyes. Ally George, she remembered now. A new Ally of New Amsterdam, the one who could read minds.

Does she know him? She winced when his gaze passed over her. Ah, don’t look at me—!

“Anne, my princess, you’re just in time,” James cooed, letting go of William. The latter fell to the ground, gasping sharply, and Marly called a spear from the devils, holding it over William as if to guard him.

“Don’t call me that,” Anne spat. “Liar.”

James raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that? It’s a lot coming from someone who disappeared without notice right before this momentous execution. You missed the best part.” His eyes widened when he saw the Ally standing behind her. “And who is this you brought us?” He twitched the tip of his tail at Maria, whose hand drifted to her gun.

“Why does it matter to you?” Anne asked.

Don’t make him mad again! Mary ducked her head as James stepped over the water, his tail lashing slowly like that of a cat poised to pounce. Indeed, his eyes were the same way— focused on nothing else at all.

“If you bring an enemy right before me, then of course it matters to me,” he said. “Unless this Ally wants to join us.”

“Nobody would want to join you after all you’ve done.” Anne turned her gaze to all the rest of the Disciples. “Your crimes, even as an Overlifer, are excessive. But I’ll only name the one that everyone here cares about. Ferocity knows nobody gives a shit about how you’ve treated us.”

“What are you going on about now?” James rolled his eyes. “Anne, come in here. Step aside from the Ally.”

Anne edged closer to George, and Mary swallowed. Oh, they do know each other. A little too well.

“I confronted Mary a few days ago,” Anne began, and Mary’s heart stopped. “She confirmed something I had already suspected, from the moment I saw our late Overlifer’s body. That James Stewart is responsible for the death of his brother.”

“What?” James turned to glare at Mary.

“I- I wasn’t—” Mary didn’t know what to say that would keep James’ secret any longer. There wasn’t any excuse she could offer other than she was high, but even that made no sense to her. She couldn’t fathom herself, her own reasons, her own life.

The Disciples were staring at Anne with an angry sort of confusion, like they didn’t quite believe her yet, even with the lack of any denial on James’ part— not until she said the next thing.

“Ah, responsible, yes,” Anne said, “but not quite the assassin. I’m sure it comes as no surprise that it was Mary who murdered him, under his orders. She told me this herself with the utmost honesty. But, in case you still don’t believe me, I’ve brought us a mindreader.” She looked to George expectantly. “What’s my father thinking now?”

“He’s wondering what to say to convince them all that you’re lying, or crazy, or both,” he said, rather pleasantly. “I think you’re neither.”

The Disciples recoiled like swiped flies, letting out shocked hisses and whispers, their frantic gazes darting between Mary and James and then back to Anne. James’ eyes widened, but he said nothing to defend himself.

“Without any remorse,” Anne continued, “it was the both of them that carried out this plan, and they succeeded because none of you could be bothered to look within our own ranks, towards our so-called leader. Do you think evil knows any limits?” She lifted her tail, the once-beautiful tip now bandaged and bloodied. “Do you think James would have been content to die without the glory of his brother? No, he is greater than one life.”

“So he needed six,” a furious voice muttered from within the audience. Mary couldn’t tell who it was, but that was what pushed the quiet Disciples over the edge, finally allowing them to set free their outraged, horrified cries.

“Say it isn’t true! What’s your defense, sir?”

“Mary told her this? How do we know she was telling the truth?”

“How do we know Anne is telling the truth?”

“That’s Ally George, isn’t it? His powers aren’t a lie!”

“Was Monmouth right, then?”

“Did you do it, sir? Did you kill your brother?”

“We can’t be too hasty—”

“Mary, is it true?”

That last one was Elizabeth, watching Mary back away fearfully. There was not hatred nor suspicion there, only a cold certainty.

“I- I must follow his orders,” was the only thing she could manage.

In all of this, James remained silent. He was staring at Anne with something unreadable in his eyes. She stared back, lifting her head as if to challenge him.

“It was William, wasn’t it?” Marly asked behind him, keeping his spear over William. “You loved your brother, you- you wouldn’t have.” He reached out towards James, then drew back when he received no answer.

“You still think Anne would lie?” Sarah hopped over the stream to stand at his side, and he sighed bitterly, looking back down at William.

As he did so, Maria ran over to Mary, taking her by the shoulders. “Mary!” she cried. “I- I told you James had killed Charles, he told me himself, he was so proud of it, but- if you knew, Mary, that it was you— why didn’t you tell me, did you think-” She took a shuddering breath, her eyes filling with tears. “How could you do this?”

“Did you expect me to disobey?” Mary’s voice broke; she was crying, too.

Maria hesitated, as if she were about to say something else, but then James raised his hand, calling for silence. Miraculously, he was obeyed, though Mary guessed it was no longer out of respect, but impatience. They wanted to hear his explanation, his excuse, more of his lies that they would happily swallow up if it meant they could go back to hating the true enemy— William, still lying breathlessly before Marly.

But, for once, he did not lie. “Yes, I ordered Mary to kill Charles,” he said simply. “And she did very well. I never expected her to reveal this information, much less so easily,” he added, in a tone that sent dread through Mary, “but it’s out now. What will you do about it?”

The Disciples did not reply, frozen in terror. James raised his voice.

“I ask you, what will you do?” he shouted. “What do you think you can do to me? I have my six lives now. I was chosen by those trembling devils, scared of my power! Do you hear that? My power! They knew what I had done when I came to them, and they didn’t care. They know an Overlifer must do anything to forward his destiny.” He shook his head slowly, lapping at the blood that had started to run from his nose with his tongue. “Charles had lost his mind. He was not fit to lead us any longer; I freed him, and I freed you. Ungrateful little rats.”

“You really expect nothing to come out of this?” Anne blurted. “He’s a traitor, everyone! Do something!”

James laughed, even as the blood ran into his mouth, staining his golden teeth. “What?” he asked. “What are they supposed to do? As long as I have my six lives, they’re mine and they know it. Their loyalty cannot waver. They realize now that this was not the act of a traitor— this was an act of love.”

Love. Love. What is all this, love? Mary couldn’t even pretend to believe it anymore.

It was a moment before Maria pulled away from Mary to stand beside her husband. “I stand beside James Stewart,” she announced, “always.”

And then, much to even Mary’s shock, the rest of the Disciples began to relent, echoing her promise, bowing their heads as they did so. Elizabeth did the same, and Mary soon followed, hoping it was real enough for James. She didn’t know if it was real enough for her.

Marly was the last one to speak. “I follow James Stewart.” He did not look at the Overlifer.

James grinned at Anne, who looked around at the Disciples in bewilderment.

“Love,” she whispered, then, louder, “love! If that’s your definition, then I love you, too, sir.” With that, she took the gun from her belt and shot her father in the head.

“James—!” Maria caught him before he fell, his body convulsing in her arms. Mary ran to help her as the shouting Disciples rushed beside her, crowding around their leader— desperate to do anything, but knowing they could do nothing when they saw the blood pouring from his shattered face. He was already dead, his first life spilling all over Maria.

Mary reached out to take her father’s hand. She waited for the fingers to squeeze around her wrist, to bring her closer. She heard Maria crying out his name, holding him to her chest protectively as the Disciples leaned in.

You’ll come back. Mary let go of his hand with some difficulty, stepping away as the candlelight swam and blurred around her. She let out an involuntary sob and covered her mouth. 

Just do it soon.

Someone had to die for this, and she knew who. Looking over the crowd, she looked up towards the entrance, towards her sister.

She was speaking to Sarah, Marly at her side, nodding as if he were listening. Anne held a spell out towards him, and he seemed to read it over before nodding once more. Then she looked behind her shoulder, meeting Mary’s gaze.

You killed our father, Mary wanted to scream. But she couldn’t bring herself to pull out her gun.

And I’ll do it again, Anne seemed to respond with her sneer. She turned decisively away with Sarah and George, dropping the spell on the floor. Her lashing tail knocked over two of the candles by the curtains as she left.

What did she—?

The flames of the candles brushed against the curtains, and the fire started slowly...burning away at the stars...flickering over the slip of paper on the ground...and then Mary realized what the spell was for.

“Louis help me!” she uttered in horror before taking one of her own spells from her pocket, praying it was the right one. Slamming it on the floor, she screamed, “Louis le Grand, délivre-nous du tout mal!”

The shadows came up at the same time as the explosion, shielding all of the Disciples. It had never once worked for her before, but now they seemed to embrace her with their protection, as if they’d been waiting for her and not the other way around. It was a strange sensation, and she wagged her finger in a circle almost too eagerly, letting the shadows retreat again.

Thank you, Your Majesty, she thought as she looked around the room, though there wasn’t much to see aside from the smoke, rising high over the flames that surrounded her. Her eyes stung at the heat, and she bowed her head, running back towards Maria.

“What- what is all this?” Maria yelled over the panicked exclamations of the Disciples.

“Fucking Anne! And-”

“Western fire spell, it looks like,” Marly interrupted as he ran up beside them, kneeling down beside Maria to brush James’ hair from his face.

“A whole spell was used?” Maria’s eyes widened. “We have to get out, now!” She lifted James in her arms, and Marly began to help her; remarkably, she hissed at him to back away.

That’s right, traitor. Now there was something Mary would have to tell James when he came back. Perhaps Marly had even known what Anne was here to do. Sarah undoubtedly had.

“Up here!” she heard Spencer cry out. She looked back and saw him shooting one of the stained glass windows, the faces of the devils falling before them. He shot out two more and looked expectantly back at the Disciples, gesturing with his tail to follow him out.

William! Mary remembered. She had to get to him before the inevitable stampede did, pushing past her to escape.

“Oh, it’s so hot in here,” Maria panted beside her. “I think I’m going to faint.”

“That would be a really bad idea,” Mary said unhelpfully. “I’m taking William.”

“What? Why not just let him die here?” Maria asked. She looked smaller than ever beneath the towering flames, with her husband slumped in her arms. “We don’t have time to waste on him!”

“Maybe you don’t.” Mary ran ahead to the throne, where, perhaps worryingly, William still lay. The fire was drawing ever closer, she realized, clawing at the windows as if it wanted to follow the Disciples out. She saw tails getting singed on their way out.

It’ll be more than that if we don’t hurry. With the windows shot out, who knew how long it was until flashover?

“William,” she said as she crouched beside the body lying before her, turned away from her with only a twitching tail to indicate its terror. “I’m here.” She lifted him in her arms, perhaps a little rougher than Maria would have.

He was still alive, thankfully, and conscious, though he looked like he was on the way out, his eyes drifting open and shut and his chest heaving rapidly. Mary untied his hands and stood up, grunting at him to hold on to her neck. He had enough strength to obey, but not very well.

“You- you said goodbye to me,” he whispered against her cheek.

“You’re not leaving after this,” she said, and he laughed, shaking his head.

“No. Neither of us...”

Nearly all the Disciples had emptied out, leaving only Maria dragging James out of the window. Marly helped her up, precariously balancing over the windowsill. It was a little higher than what a normal human could jump to.

“Mary, hurry if you’re going to take him!” Maria called. “I’m not leaving here without you.” She hesitated before jumping back down, running to Mary’s side. “Is he heavy?”

“Not- not at all.” Mary was breathing hard; she wondered if it was the smoke she was breathing in. She had to keep her head low.

“Marly, take William,” Maria ordered, taking William in her arms and pushing him up towards Marly. “I’ll help Mary up.”

Marly shook his head. “I have to take James first. William can afford to lose this life.”

“But we can’t!” Maria said. She gasped as the flames seemed to fly at her face, and she stepped back, holding her tail over Mary. “Hurry up, Ally, or we’ll burn alive in here!”

“Just...hold on a second. I’ll be right back.” 

“What?” Maria raised her voice. “Get us up there or so help me James!”

“Our leader cannot die,” Marly said. With that, he took James by his shirt collar and hopped outside, dragging his master with him.

“Fucking Allies!” Maria looked around the room frantically, and Mary held William tighter. The fire rose higher before them, blocking out their last three hopes with its heat and what must have surely been its anger.

“You should have- have left without me,” William said. “You only have one—” He broke off, his body shaking all over with the force of his coughs.

Oh, that was right. She was going to die here. It wasn’t such a bad way to go, but oh, so woefully dishonorable, at the hands of traitors.

Traitors like Marly. He wasn’t going to come back, of that she was certain.

“We don’t have time to wait!” Maria pressed closer to Mary, her tail flicking with terror. “Do you have any protection spells left?”

“Not ones that can stop fire.”

“Oh, no,” Maria breathed, looking up at the ceiling. “Even the devils are fleeing. No...”

“Now’s not the time, Maria.” Mary only wished she could make this death less painful for William. She didn’t know what was worse; being beheaded or burning alive.

“Mary.” She felt Maria’s hand on her wrist. “Please- please don’t be afraid.”

“What?” “The only thing that scares me more than this is losing you.” Maria blinked, and her eyes seemed to flicker through the smoke, the only soft light among the flames and darkness. “When faced with that, you’ll see this is nothing at all.” She raised her voice, and shaking as it was Mary only felt more afraid.

“Maria—”

Maria screamed something in an ancient tongue Mary didn’t know, wrapping her arms around both her stepdaughter and William. Mary closed her eyes as the heat all around them might have killed them, when the darkness was lit by the endless blaze tenfold.

But she realized she could still think, she was still awake, and when she looked up she saw Maria still holding her, the massive white wings from her back being the only thing shielding them all from certain death.

  🝰🝰🝰

There was smoke in the distance, Bentinck noted as he rested his head against the window of the car. Bidloo was driving rather recklessly at this point, cursing drivers under his breath, but all of Bentinck’s thoughts were on William, now that Anne was back with him.

“Is that the Hoerenkast?” he heard her ask from behind them.

“Why would they burn anything for an execution?” Bentinck turned his head sharply towards her. “Are they—?”

“The first execution wouldn’t be so brutal,” Anne rushed to reassure him. “James said that he’d drag out the suffering even more each time. Maybe...maybe it’s something else.”

“What would a first execution look like?” Bentinck knew that was the wrong question to ask, but he couldn’t look away. He had to know what he was facing, what would happen if they were too late.

“Just the usual, I think,” Anne said. “Slit his throat. Let him bleed out.”

Well, we’ve seen countless of those, haven’t we? He’d seen how the blood ran out, how the prisoners choked on it, how their eyes widened when they saw their life spilling on the ground.

But, of course, neither William nor Bentinck had ever been on the receiving end.

He had already convinced himself that it wasn’t the Hoerenkast that was on fire, so when they stopped in front of the building and saw the smoke rising from the windows, from the open balconies, it felt as if his breath had been knocked out of him.

Like William’s breath surely would be if he was in there. He began to open the door, but Bidloo held a hand over his shoulder.

“Are you trying to get hit? We’re still on the street!”

“You’re not seriously asking me to wait!” Bentinck argued. “William is in there!”

“Nobody knows that,” Bidloo said. “So at least try to look calm, alright?” He hesitated before adding, “I’ll let you off here, just don’t do anything stupid. But get out now, we’re causing traffic!” He shoved Bentinck towards the door, and the Ally opened the door and stepped out into the street. He looked back as he crossed, realizing Anne was following him.

“I didn’t even have to ask.” He smiled down at her as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “I knew you’d be with me.”

“And I knew you were going to attempt something stupid,” Anne said. She looked up at the Hoerenkast, speaking over the distant sirens approaching. “Back here again, huh? Well, you’re not going in there this time, Hans.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Bentinck shook his head. “You know that nobody in there is going to save him!” He began to walk towards the entrance, where it didn’t look like the fire had reached yet, but Anne took his hand.

“Mary- Mary might.”

“You’d risk his lives for might?”

“You’d risk your life for William?” Anne glared at him, pulling him towards her. “You’re powerful, but you’re not invulnerable. You can’t just walk through fire.”

“Maybe the fire hasn’t even reached him yet,” Bentinck said. “Anne, I have to do this. I’ve explained to you before how much I need him, and how much he needs— me.”

“You don’t need anyone in your life, Hans, you just think you do.” Anne lifted a hand to cup Bentinck’s cheek, taking a sharp breath. “But I want you to be happy.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t be happy if you’re dead. So just—” She kissed him then, and he shut his eyes, nearly forgetting everything else. He couldn’t allow himself to, but he let her warmth slow his heart, ground him in this reality, where he could have her and William and they could all be happy.

“I trust you to survive,” she said as she backed away. “I know you won’t let me go with you, so at least take that.”

“With pleasure,” Bentinck said. He looked up, realized with alarm that there were Disciples he recognized crowding the sidewalk, some of them with singed tails or horns, most of them coughing. They were coming from the back of the Hoerenkast, glaring up at it as if they were questioning the audacity this heretic structure had to dare to burn with them inside of it. And yet...among them, he could not see James, he could not see Marly nor Mary, and, most importantly, he could not see William.

“Go with them,” Bentinck said to Anne. “Don’t let them see you with me.”

“I love you,” she said, turning away from him.

And I love you. He didn’t need to say it out loud to know that she knew. Ducking away from the crowd, he waited until they were all looking either at each other or at the street to dart inside the building, shutting the door behind him.

It was remarkably calm here at the lobby, where a servant was usually there to greet him. He wondered if Marly had the place cleared for the execution; he had the authority to do so, and no one would have questioned him for it. It would just be an event for the pleasure of the devils, surely. William had Bentinck do it all the time for his own events.

They really don’t even have fire alarms in here? Bentinck looked up, seeing faint wisps of smoke on the ceiling. It was the oldest Hoerenkast in the city, yes, but there had to be some sensible upgrades made along the decades.

He knelt on the floor, sending his senses out everywhere around him, letting himself melt into the distant sounds and smells. He was the smoke, he was the flame, he was the aura—

Who’s there?!

He jolted out of his focus, his head jerking up in terror. Never once had he heard a voice interrupt him. But he recognized it, knew where it was coming from, and that was enough for him to go on ahead, the air becoming lighter and hotter around him as he advanced through the winding halls.

As he turned a corner he found the source of the fire; one of the meeting rooms, the largest one here, where Ally Marly always met with his followers. The whole of that hall was beginning to catch on fire as well, with the tapestries hanging on the walls burning away. It was through the haze of smoke that Bentinck saw the aforementioned figure step forward.

“It was you,” he said to Marly as he approached. “I thought you would have left with your Disciples by now.”

“I had to come back in,” Marly hissed. “Trying to hurry this shit along.”

“So you want this place to burn down?” Bentinck asked. “It seems needlessly dangerous to do it while everyone is inside.”

“Makes it more believable,” Marly said. “Just another one of those terrorist attacks.” He yawned, and that was when Bentinck saw that he dragged a limp body in one hand, dangerously close to the flames spreading around them.

William? He leaned in with narrowed eyes, only for a spear to come up in front of him, nearly slicing through his eye had he not jumped back at the last second.

“Why does he matter to you?” Marly held the body up. The head, torn open and bloody, was nearly unrecognizable, but the jagged horns convinced Bentinck of its identity.

“James,” he breathed. “He’s dead.”

“Once, maybe.”

“Did William do this?”

“William! Ha!” Marly grinned. “He is already dead as well.”

“What?” Bentinck shifted his glare back to him. “Where is he? Is he in that room there?”

“You’re not going there.”

So he is! Bentinck bared his fangs, raising his hand to call the claws of the devils to help him. They came to him like they never had when he was a boy, and as he brought his hand back down he shot them forward, glowing little blades heading towards Marly’s neck.

Marly leaped up with impressive speed, high above Bentinck, still holding James. He landed on one of the windowsills and tore a tapestry down easily, with strength that Bentinck thought might have failed him in this heat. He waved it in the air, the subsequent winds fanning the flames back, letting them move faster towards Bentinck.

Go now! Before it gets worse! He would not stay here to fight Marly, not this time. He ran forward, jumping as high as he could over the flames, waving the smoke away with minor Northern wind spells and keeping his head bowed. He could breathe in smoke like the devils could, but he didn’t know for how long, and that didn’t stop his eyes from stinging both at the brightness and the ever-increasing heat.

He heard glass shatter once, twice. Marly was breaking more windows, more oxygen was being let through. He stepped forward, trying to make anything out through the smoke, only for something to burn at his legs.

“Ah—!” He sprung back, but stopped short when he felt heat touch him there too. He could not move from his place. Were his clothes on fire already? He rolled back on the ground, kicking his legs out to try to put it out.

Oh, shit. He looked up desperately, seeing glowing eyes glinting at him through the smoke, a flippant hand waving it away as simply as if it were a bird. There was Marly, walking through fire, now holding James in both arms with more care than Bentinck thought that man deserved.

“There will always be someone more than you,” Marly said. “The devils have chosen me.”

“They chose me too!” Bentinck cried, his breath hitching and breaking off with a cough.

“Ah, Lord Portland, dripping poison onto everything he touched,” Marly went on. “A fearful beast in his time. But Lord Marlborough bested them all; the commander of fire and thunder and power ruined every devil that came his way! You’ll have no such privilege.” He looked almost manic, with his wide, red eyes and the sweat dripping down his hair. “My lord.”

“You think you’re the only one who can survive this?!” Bentinck spat. “You’re not any more powerful than all the other Allies.”

“With James at my side, I think I rather am.” Marly lifted the limp head in his arms, leaning in so that he almost kissed the bloodstained lips. “I didn’t want this to happen. I wish I could be happy with him. I wish I didn’t—” He paused, his voice breaking. “I wish I didn’t feel like I could hate him everyday. Like I could kill him. How can you be happy with him?”

With him? Bentinck began to crawl forward, muttering the wind spells again. It was a very narrow path to drag himself through, and he had to curl in on himself as the fire would begin again behind him. He bowed his head, praying he knew where he was going.

“I wish I could just let him die. And you can do that so easily right now. So why don’t you?”

“I have never known fear like you, my lord.”

“I hope all four of you die here,” Marly said at length, and then there was silence behind Bentinck, nothing but the roaring of the fire to fill Bentinck’s ears.

All four of you? Well, who were the other three? He looked up dizzily.

“William!” he called. “William— please!” He didn’t know what he was begging for. He knew he was in the room when the darkness was replaced by nothing but orange, orange, orange, everywhere around him, where even the wind spells couldn’t help him.

I can’t go in there like this! He could call King Louis, the only spell that could protect him now— if the king decided to listen. And nine times out of ten, he never did, even to the most skilled of Allies.

I have to try. He rested his head on the ground, shutting his eyes and pounding his fist on the floor.

Louis le Grand, délivre-nous du tout mal.

He didn’t dare believe, but then he felt the heat begin to draw away from him. He could still hear crackling, wood creaking; had it worked? William said everything was silent among the shadows. He cautiously looked up and gasped.

It was not shadows, but James’ wife, Maria Beatrice, with that blinding aura of hers. Maybe she was someone whom Bentinck should have feared, but she never joined the fights, never went out to kill. She was always beside James, his quiet, perfect little love.

Now she stared down at him with majestic, feathered wings held up defensively over his body to keep the flames away. Clinging to her was Mary, swaying like she were about to fall (and indeed she might have, seeing the exhaustion and confusion on her face), and in her arms she held William.

William! His head lay against Mary’s chest, his tail and arms hanging limp.

���No,” Bentinck blurted, stumbling to his feet. Maria watched him warily as he leaned in towards William.

“I knew you would be here,” Mary said simply. “Do you want him?”

“That’s not even a question,” Bentinck snapped. He held his arms out for William, and Mary handed him over as she leaned back on Maria’s wings. Bentinck didn’t know of any spell that gave anyone wings as big as these, especially ones that rendered Maria impervious to fire, but he couldn’t be bothered to ask right now.

“William,” he said, his voice shaking as he moved the hair from William’s bruised face. There was blood all over it, still falling from his nose and lips. It had made a mess over his neck, where there was a curious collar strapped there. “What did he do to you?”

William didn’t answer. He was wheezing sharply, and dangerously, and Bentinck decided that talk could wait until later.

“I don’t suppose you’ll walk me out,” he said to Maria.

“James would be so very, very happy if you died here,” she said. “Don’t you want him to be happy?”

“N-No, not really.”

Maria hummed thoughtfully. “I let you go the first time Mary killed him, and he didn’t even look my way. You know, there always has to be someone to stop him.”

“Yes.” Bentinck bowed his head. He had no idea where she was going with this, but maybe if he agreed with her they could hurry this along. William wouldn’t last long here.

If he has lasted at all. William had grown eerily quiet in his arms.

“We’re not letting him go after this,” Mary coughed beside Maria. “We can’t, not now that we have him after all this time.”

“There can only be a proper confrontation between them at the end of the world, when the trumpets of the apocalypse sound at last,” Maria said. “It’s no good trying to force an execution. No, both Overlifers are greater than that.” She nodded at Bentinck. “Stay under my wings.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He still didn’t know what she meant, but followed her as she walked through the fire, as unbothered by it as Marly had been. Perhaps she was an Ally too, albeit one that James had kept secret, but Bentinck couldn’t see black in her eyes.

“What apocalypse? What the fuck are you talking about, Maria?” Mary was hissing. “I’ve tried to be nice about it, but you know how James feels about letting your delusions affect the way we do things. If you let him go because of this, he’s going to kill you. And I don’t want that for you.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Maria asked.

“No, but—”

“Then we have nothing to worry about. Trust me...he’ll be pleased when the time comes.”

They ran into the firefighters on their way out, who were rather startled to see the generally unharmed group, especially Maria, who had not even a hint of soot on her face like the others. She folded her wings in behind her as they stepped outside.

“Is everyone okay? Somehow?” asked the one firefighter that had followed them out. “What spell did you use, my lady? It might be useful for us inside.”

“It’s not a spell anyone else could use,” Maria said. “I’m sorry. I wrote it myself.”

She did what? Bentinck turned his head sharply towards her.

“Oh- well—” The stranger glanced back at Bentinck through his mask, then stepped towards William in alarm. “What about him? Is he conscious? Come, let me take a look at him.”

“That- that won’t be necessary,” Bentinck said, backing away and holding William closer.

“What? But look at him, my lord, he’s not—”

“I’ll take him to a hospital myself, thank you.”

“But he needs to be checked over now.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Bentinck insisted again. “I promise, I know what deadly looks like, and this isn’t it. He’s under my- my divine protection and preference. He’ll be fine, at least for a little longer.” It was bullshit, but most people seemed to fall for it. He hoped this man was also most people.

The man paused, then bowed his head. “Very well. But I advise you to make it quick, my lord. It looks like he inhaled a lot of smoke.”

“I’ll be going now, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

He could tell he hadn’t made an entirely convincing argument, but what else was he to do? He was right, after all; checking over William wasn’t necessary, and nobody could look at him now without revealing the dangerous secret.

Because you’re already dead.

He nudged William’s horns, watching the head roll slightly to the side against his chest. He hadn’t imagined it; the labored breaths had stopped.

Aren’t you?

“Hans!” That was Anne calling for him. He turned away as she approached, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “You actually got him.”

“Thanks to Maria,” Bentinck muttered. “No one else.” Could he have saved this life if only Marly hadn’t been there to stop him? Or was William already losing this one when he got inside?

He must have known. He must have thought I left him there. He ran his fingers through William’s matted hair, strangely wet and dry at the same time. He could smell the blood all over him, and he tried to imagine what it was that had caused him to bleed so much, what kind of pain he’d felt before he died.

“I’ve never wanted to do anything else but save you,” he said, trying to smile down at the body. “I’m sorry.” He blinked rapidly, but he let his tears fall once Anne wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing up close behind him.

“He lost a life?” she asked.

“His third,” he said, finally allowing himself a sob. “Already his fucking third. Six lives are supposed to last you, Anne, but everyone- everyone wants him dead. He must have been afraid. He must have been so afraid.” He took a shaky breath and bowed his head, burying it in William’s neck. “I would have lost him that first time.”

“He would have lost more if you hadn’t come for him,” he heard Anne say into his ear.

He didn’t have to lose any at all. If it weren’t for the deceit of the Villiers sisters—

No. He looked up, turned towards Anne. She had to follow orders. She was afraid.

“I- I suppose it had to happen,” he said.

She nodded. “And he’ll be all the more powerful for it. You were very brave to go in there, Hans.” She lifted a hand towards his face, then drew back with a nervous laugh. “But you need to get cleaned up, seriously.”

“Bentinck!”

They both looked up then, seeing Bidloo run towards them with his head bowed, like a charging bull. Under the red lights of the fire trucks, he looked more like a vengeful spirit as he approached, peering down at William in Bentinck’s arms.

“Why aren’t you getting him checked over?” he asked. “What if he-”

“He’s dead, sir,” Anne cut in. “There’s nothing more we can do for him. And there’s nothing we should do for him— we can’t make it known to anyone else here.”

“Dead?” Bidloo stumbled back, his eyes widening. “What- but you— no, Bentinck, let me look at him.”

“I’m sorry, Bidloo, I tried,” Bentinck said. “But it was too late, he couldn’t breathe—”

“It’s always too late for you!” Bidloo shouted, startling the Ally. “You can never get to him on time, you can never be at his side when he needs you— why do we even have an Ally if he’s fucking useless to us? His power means nothing! You put yourself through this for nothing!” He glared at Bentinck for a moment, then turned away with a huff.

“Come on,” he said as he walked away, his voice ominously low. “I’ll drive him to your place.”

Bentinck swallowed and turned his head up to the sky. He couldn’t make himself follow, not yet.

“He’s right about that last part, though,” Anne said.

“Not helping.”

“Maybe if you—” She cut herself off, and Bentinck looked down again to see both Elizabeth and Mary walking over to them.

“What now?” He glared pointedly at Elizabeth, who laughed and waved at him.

“You will remember that Maria saved your life,” Mary said.

“She did?” Anne asked. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t even know how she did it,” Bentinck said, shaking his head helplessly.

“I wish she hadn’t,” Elizabeth said with a dismissive flick of her tail. “Anne, have you been with this guy all day? I was waiting for you at the execution! Why haven’t you just knocked him out and taken William back yet?” Her eyes glittered. “It worked well enough the first time.”

Bentinck opened his mouth, an excuse for her ready in his mind, but Anne held her hand up to silence him.

“I’m going with him,” she said. “I’m not coming back here. I’m done with James, and you and Mary, especially Mary— you should be, too.”

“You are?” Bentinck couldn’t stop the delight from springing onto his voice. “Anne—!”

Elizabeth’s tail furiously whipped the air behind her. “I said he wouldn’t love you.”

“Even if he didn’t, I would have left, anyway,” Anne said firmly. “I didn’t know where I would go without him, but I know now. I’m not going to serve the man who has abused his whole family, my best friend—”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Mary said, clearing her throat, and Anne turned to her, her gaze softening.

“Mary, please,” she said. “Come with me. I don’t want to leave if I don’t know that- that you’ll be safe.” She reached out and took Mary’s hand, squeezing it in her own.

“Trying to steal the princess away right from under our noses!” Elizabeth hissed. “I don’t care what happens to you, Anne; James will be hearing about this.”

“You will not be telling him, Elizabeth,” Mary said, batting her on the shoulder. “That’s an order.”

“You’re just letting him go? Letting both of them go?” Elizabeth gestured at William. “We are so close, Mary. Do you want to make your father furious when he comes back?”

“When he comes back— is he dead?” Anne asked, her eyes widening slightly.

“Yes, for a little while, anyway.” Mary shrugged like she was pushing off the memory of however her father had died. Bentinck wondered if it had been in the fire as well. “You can go, Anne. Watch over William for me.”

“You’re not coming?” Anne tilted her head to the side. “Mary—”

“I just can’t,” Mary said with a bitter sigh. “He doesn’t need to lose two daughters in one night. I have to stay, I have to believe that things can get better. I’ll never be safer than I am with him.”

Does she really believe that? Bentinck couldn’t imagine William ever saying that about his own father.

Anne glanced at Bentinck, then ran into Mary’s arms, refusing to let her out of the embrace.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she whispered, her shoulders shaking.

“They’ll never make us enemies,” Mary promised. “Neither William nor James.”

“I love you. Please take care of my sister and- and yourself.” Anne pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

“I’ll do my best.” Mary turned towards Bentinck, though she kept her gaze on William. “You can take him now. Just remember what Maria said— he can’t keep running forever.”

Bentinck gave her a slight nod. “William will be the last one standing. Thank you, and...thank Maria some more for me, too.”

“She doesn’t want to hear it,” Mary said. She whisked away, back towards the Disciples, but Elizabeth stayed longer, her gaze becoming harder by the moment.

“I’ll kill you both myself,” was all she said before she turned to follow Mary.

The ride to Bentinck’s house was mostly quiet, with Bentinck trying to shake the soot and ash off his hair, face, and clothes. William could get cleaned up later— certainly he didn’t mind waiting at the moment. He noticed Anne staring at him with an amused glint in her eye, visible even in the darkness.

Bidloo was the one who carried William inside, setting him on Bentinck’s bed, which Bentinck suspected was intentional. But he didn’t object, instead sitting down beside William and fiddling with the burnt tail. He noticed it was twisted unnaturally near the tip.

“I still wonder what they did to him,” he said. “This is broken.”

“I’m sure he’ll tell us himself when he wakes up,” Bidloo said, keeping his gaze on the ground.

If he wakes up, Bentinck added to himself, though he knew William would. It was only his third life. And then he would be on his fourth...three more deaths and then Bentinck could really say his friend would never wake up again.

And he lost the first three so quickly...

“Don’t let him die again,” Bidloo said, as if he’d just been thinking the same thing. “He’s burning through these lives.”

“I know.” Somehow Bidloo saying it out loud made it more real.

“I can’t- I don’t want to deal with that.”

“I’m going to protect him, Bidloo, I promise.” Bentinck reached a hand towards Bidloo’s shoulder. “Nothing else will come first. I failed before, but- it won’t happen again. No Disciples will ever get their hands on him after this.”

Bidloo snorted. “Some promise.” He glanced at Anne.

She had stayed quiet this whole time, staring at William with an unreadable expression. The white light trickling in through the windows shone upon her tiny horns, her glossy, dark hair, giving her the appearance of a woman made of ice with how still she lay beside Bentinck.

She looked like she could shatter, he realized. There had always been danger with the Disciples, certainly, but there was no one more wanted in the world than a traitor.

🝰🝰🝰

No one could know who had died.

No one could know he was dead.

It was a hope of nonsense, a hope that would be disappointed by morning. But it was still there, as heavy as the body that Marly dragged along with him.

He had to take it to Anne. Or he had to tear James apart himself. And then that hope would be reality.

But “reality” is so boring.

He saw the car waiting in the distance. There was no one else here, watching him from the shadows. It was just him and James. Him and his— master. The love of his life.

A lie. She was only up ahead.

John, don’t do this to me.

He was imagining it.

I gave you everything.

That didn’t make that any less true.

He lifted the body up, bringing it towards his face so that the head came to lean against him. He felt the lips press to his neck, like they always did. The only difference was that James did not sigh against him.

Is that it, sir? Do I take your breath away? Marly leaned back, smiled up at the empty eye. One seemed to have been shot out, or there was too much blood to see it; no matter, there was still the other one left, sightless and beautiful.

He bowed his head and met James in a kiss. How many times had James kissed him awake, he thought wryly; how many times had he lay there in a petrified daze and James had kissed him anyway?

In the end he turned away. He could have left him to die here, but—

I have never known fear like you.

[theladyofdeath]

"I swear to god Cassian, if she vomits, you're cleaning it up"

A/N: This was meant to be answered in 500 words or less...I think I failed. Anyway...please enjoy this angsty, hot mess! x

Ship: Nesta x Cassian, modern au

Warnings: liquor, language, self loathing.

"I'll be just a minute. Don't move."

Rhysand sighed dramatically as Cassian let himself out of the backseat and ran toward the entrance of the club. It was boy's night out, and he was ruining it, but he didn't care. The second he opened the drunken selfie Nesta had sent him, he knew she shouldn't be alone. The club she was at had a reputation, and Cassian would be damned if he let Nesta drink herself into a poor situation that she'd be regretting in the morning.

Once he was inside, he couldn't see a damn thing. The house lights were off and colorful lights were flashing all around him, instantly giving him a headache and making him nauseous. He much preferred a bar to this hellhole. Nonetheless, he started making his rounds, scoping his way through the chaos. After a few minutes, he made his way to the bar and flagged down the bartender.

"I'm looking for my friend!" he hollered over the pounding music. "Short blue dress, golden-brown hair, way too much to drink!"

The bartender chuckled. "Sorry, I've seen a lot of those tonight!"

Cassian frowned and looked around, rubbing the back of his neck before setting back out to find her. It took about fifteen minutes, but he finally found Nesta on the second floor overlooking the dance floor, sitting on some guy's lap and giggling uncontrollably, a drink in her hand.

She didn't notice Cassian until he was standing in front of her and her new companion with his arms crossed. Her eyes widened. "Cassian? Cassian! This is my friend...um..."

"Eri-"

"I don't care," Cassian said, shortly, and held out his hand. "Come on."

Nesta frowned, her brows furrowed. "Why? I'm having fun."

"Your words are slurred and your eyes are practically closed. Come on."

"Is this your boyfriend?" the guy asked, his arms tightening around Nesta.

She snorted. "Fuck no. This is...my...this is Cassian."

Cassian's jaw locked. That response pissed him off far more than it should have. But really, was it to hard to even admit that they were friends?

"Rhys and Az are waiting outside. We're going to take you home," Cassian explained, trying to keep his frustration in check. "I'll toss you over my shoulder if I have to. Come on."

"No," Nesta answered, sipping from her fruity drink with her tiny straw. "Go home, Ca-AHHH!"

True to his word, Cassian wouldn't take no for an answer. He had pulled Nesta out of the stranger's grasp, spilling her drink in the process, and pulled her away. "Where's your shit?" he asked, ignoring her new friend's curses being yelled over the music behind them.

Nesta was trying to squirm out of his grasp but she couldn't even walk a straight line, so it wasn't much of a fight. When she didn't answer him, he stopped and looked down at her with a raised brow.

By the Mother, she was drunk. Swaying on her feet, her eyelids were heavy, her lips parted, her cheeks red and blotchy. Her hair was a mess and her mascara was running, as if she'd been sweating her ass off on the dance floor. The lipstick she had been wearing in her selfie had been kissed off.

"What?" she snapped.

Cassian still held onto her hand. "I asked where your stuff was. Unless you can't remember."

Her eyes narrowed. "Of course, I remember. It's..." Her words trailed off as she looked around the club. "Um. Oh! The bar!"

Cassian was trying to be patient, but considering it took them another fifteen minutes to find her stuff, his patience was running thin. The moment they were walking outside, Nesta remembered that she did not, in fact, want to be saved.

As soon as they were out in the cool night air, Nesta snatched her hand out of Cassian's. This time, he let her.

"I'm going back inside."

"No, you're not."

Rhysand honked his horn and rolled down the window. "Will you two hurry up? We have places to be, Cass!"

"See? You have places to be," Nesta snapped, but she swayed on her heels and Cassian reached out to steady her. She closed her eyes and groaned, surely trying to control her need to vomit.

"I'm taking you home," Cassian said, and his tone left no room for argument.

"You're not my father," Nesta snapped, "and you're not my boyfriend so I don't know what the hell you think you're doing here, coming to ruin my fun."

Cassian's shoulders tensed. "I'm trying to protect you." His voice was low, his fists clenched. "I'm trying to get you home safely so that you don't end up in some asshole's bed, not able to remember a damn thing in the morning."

"Some asshole's bed?" Nesta asked, stepping toward him until their chests were practically touching. "Is that jealousy? Is it your bed you wish I was in? Do you want to fuck me, Cassian?"

Her breath smelled horrid but Cassian fought the urge to spit that fact in her face as his jaw locked. Even if he had spent plenty of nights wishing that Nesta was in his bed, he wasn't about to admit that to her now. "Know what? Fuck you for making me out to be the bad guy right now."

"That's it, isn't it?" her eyes were bright as she looked up at him beneath her lashes. "You want me, and you hate that someone else was about to take me home, so here you are."

She was drunk. He knew she wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. He tried to remind himself of that as his temper rose. "Come on," he snapped, and went to take her hand, but she shook her head.

"You want me, Cass?" she breathed, and ran her hands up his chest. "Then take me."

"Stop," he said, but the word was weak. He didn't feel like doing this, not now. A sudden exhaustion swept over him as he wrapped his hands around her wrists. "I'm taking you home. Now."

"Why wait?" she said, and kissed his jaw. Cassian pulled her back so that the contact broke, even though the feel of her lips set his skin on fire. "Fuck me here. There's a perfectly good brick wall right there."

She gestured to the side of the building behind her and nearly fell over. Cassian reached out to steady her, once more, but as he grabbed her hands she took them and placed them sloppily over her breasts. "Come on, Cass. Fuck me."

He snatched his hands away with a curse before tossing her over his shoulder. She hit his back and bit his shoulder, which hurt like hell, but he didn't budge until he was opening the backdoor of Rhys's car and dropping her inside. He rounded to the other side quickly before dropping down beside her and telling him to drive.

"I swear to god Cassian, if she vomits, you're cleaning it up," he muttered, glaring at his friend in the mirror as he put the car back into drive.

Azriel gave Cassian a sympathetic look from the passenger seat before glancing at Nesta. "Maybe crack the window. She doesn't look so good."

Cassian leaned over and rolled it down a few inches before buckling Nesta in, just as they pulled onto the main road.

"Just go to my apartment, it's closer," Cassian said, when Nesta groaned. Her face paled and she truly did look like she was about to get sick. He hoped she waited until they were back out of the car, or Rhys would never let him forget it. He was anal about his precious Camaro.

They drove in silence for all of five minutes before they pulled into the parking garage of Cassian's apartment complex. He had just gotten Nesta out of the backseat before she puked on his shoes.

Rhysand swore, and Azriel's sympathetic eyes lingered on them as Cassian sighed. "Go have fun. I'll call you tomorrow."

They reluctantly agreed and Cassian knew the moment they drove off that Rhysand was swearing up a storm. He knew how Rhysand felt about his relationship with Nesta, if what they had between them could even be called a relationship. Nonetheless, Cassian held onto her until her stomach was empty before gathering her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs to the second floor. Nesta groaned as her eyes closed, and a few minutes later, they were crossing the threshold of Cassian's studio apartment.

"You smell like shit," Nesta muttered.

"That would be my shoes," Cassian replied, shutting the door behind them with his ass. He kicked them off by the door before carrying Nesta further inside and dropped her on his bed. Once he was sure that she wouldn't roll off, he went to see just how bad the damage was to his favorite boots. He cringed at the sight of them before pushing open the sliding glass door to the balcony and setting them outside. He'd get to them later. They needed some serious attention.

Right now, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, Nesta needed him.

He slipped off his jeans and tossed them on top of his boots before making his way to his dresser and tugging on a pair of clean sweats, happy to be freed of all vomit. When he turned toward Nesta, she was slowly sitting up with a groan. Cassian ran to get the trashcan from the kitchen and had just made it in front of her when she started heaving again.

"Fuck," he muttered, taking her hair in his free hand and holding it back. "How much did you drink?"

She lifted her middle finger in the air as she hurled again. Cassian sighed and waited it out before setting the trashcan aside and holding out his hands.

She blinked, swaying where she sat. "What?"

"I'm cleaning you up. Come on."

She stared at his hands for another second before taking them, fully resigned to her fate. "Go out with Rhys and Az. I'll be fine."

Cassian pulled her to her feet and when she swayed again, he gathered her back into his arms and made the short trek to the bathroom. "I had a long day, anyway. We'd already been out for a few hours. I was ready to come home."

If she knew that was a lie, she didn't call him out on it. He sat her carefully on the vanity and started taking off her heels, setting them aside. He handed her a bottle of mouthwash before turning to fill the tub.

"You don't have to do all this," she said, quietly, and now that her stomach was empty, her head was surely starting to clear a little bit. "I can take care of myself-"

"Yeah, you've proved that," he snapped, then took a deep breath. When he turned back to Nesta, he sighed. "You could at least go out with your sisters so that you're not endangering yourself by drinking so fucking much alone. Guys are dicks, Nesta, you have no idea-"

"I'm not stupid, I know," she snapped back, and Cassian's mouth snapped shut. "Maybe I don't want protecting, and maybe I don't want saving, Cassian. Maybe I want to go do reckless shit and put myself in bad situations."

Cassian shook his head and turned back toward the tub, turning off the faucet. "Get in the tub, you smell like puke and smoke."

Her jaw set stubbornly. "Stop telling me what to do."

"I'm trying to help you!" All of Cassian's calm demeanor left him. It evaporated, and pure frustration consumed him. "Just drop the act for ten fucking minutes and let me help!"

Nesta didn't flinch. She hardly reacted at all. "I didn't ask for your help." The venom in her words sent chills down his spine. "You showed up, uninvited, and ruined everything!"

She pushed Cassian away, hands flat against his chest, but he didn't care, it didn't bother him. This wasn't the first time she pushed him away, both physically or metaphorically, and it wouldn't be the last. "Get in the bath."

They stared at each other for a long time, and when Cassian reached for her, she slipped herself off the counter and angrily started slipping out of her dress. Her breasts were freed in front of him, like she didn't even care, and Cassian's eyes drifted away the moment he saw them. He turned his back to her and started towards the bathroom door. Nesta barked a laugh that held no humor, no light.

"What? You can be the knight in shining armor but you can't see me naked? Surely you've seen a naked woman before, Cass. Surely this is what you wanted, coming to save me. Don't tell me you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart, you-"

Cassian stepped out of the bathroom and slammed the door before she could finish her spiteful rant. Her words fell flat once the sound of the door echoed throughout the small space, and he hated himself for lingering outside of the door to listen, to make sure she was okay.

The water sloshed in the porcelain tub as Nesta sank herself within. She sighed, and then the softest of sobs filled the space. She thought he couldn't hear, thought he wasn't paying attention, thought she had pushed him away enough to have this private moment, but it hadn't worked. He was still right there, as he always was.

He knew Nesta. He knew Nesta more than he knew most people, with the exception of Rhys and Azriel. He knew her, and it didn't matter how much she pushed him away. They were two halves of the same coin, their souls shared a space, and one day she would realize that he was not the villain. And he would wait for that day, because he was a fucking dumbass. Because when that day came, when she forgave herself for her faults and found peace with herself, with her past, she would be his, as she was always destined to be.

He knew that she knew it, knew that she was fighting it because she didn't feel like she deserved an ounce of happiness.

Cassian sighed as he fell back on his bed and ran his hands down his face. He stayed like that for a long time, waiting for Nesta to come out of the bathroom. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and when half an hour came and went, Cassian grew worried.

Having found his calm, he stood from his bed and knocked on the bathroom door. When no answer came, he started to panic, but when his hand fell on the knob, the quietest of voices came from within. "Yes?"

Cassian swallowed, his chest heavy. "Just checking in. You've been in there a while."

Another few seconds of silence passed. "I, um....I need a towel."

Cassian took one from his little closet and brought it to the bathroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes."

Cassian turned the knob and entered the bathroom. Nesta laid in the tub, her head the only thing above the water. Dark circles drowned her eyes and she looked exhausted, as if she had used every last ounce of energy on her tears. Cassian didn't let his eyes wander her body. His eyes stayed connected to hers. Her hair was still dry.

"You didn't wash your hair."

She shrugged.

"Did you wash your body?"

She shrugged, again.

Cassian sighed, dropping the towel. He grabbed a washrag off the counter and sat down next to the tub.

"It's hard to wash hair in a tub," Nessta said, quietly, emptily.

"Yeah, well," Cassian sighed, "the shower head is broken. I have to get a new one. At least wash your body." He took the washrag in his hand and drowned it in soap. "Here."

Nesta took the rag and ran it down her body until Cassian deemed her acceptable.

"Sit up."

She had no fight left in her. She did as she was told.

He grabbed the cup he'd been using to rinse his hair with and filled it with water before dumping it over Nesta's head. It was cold. She didn't seem to care. She didn't seem to notice. She didn't even glare at him. She hardly moved.

"Here," he said, holding open the shampoo.

Nesta didn't move. "My hair is fine."

"There's puke on the ends."

She shrugged.

Cassian's jaw locked as he poured the shampoo into his hands and ran it through her hair. He massaged it into her scalp and ran it through to the tips of her golden-brown locks. Her eyes closed and she let out a long breath. He rinsed her hair until it ran clear, then pulled the plug and stood, grabbing the towel and holding it up.

It seemed to take all of Nesta's energy to stand and step out of the tub. Cassian wrapped the towel around her, then left the room to let her dry herself off.

In the meantime, he went to the kitchen and filled a glass with water before finding a bottle of Ibuprofen to put on the nightstand for the morning. Then, he went to his dresser and pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. Both would be way too big, but they would be comfortable.

"Here," he said, coming back to the bathroom. Nesta took them, her eyes empty as Cassian went back into the bedroom and laid himself down on his bed. He listened as Nesta dressed, as she used his brush to brush out her hair. He was surprised she managed to do that, despite her current state.

She came into the room a few minutes later, exhausted and dressed in his clothes. He pulled the blankets back and she didn't hesitate before she fell into bed beside him, wrapping herself up in his blankets. Cassian stayed quiet, on top of the blankets, his legs crossed.

"Sleep it off," he murmured. "I'll head to the couch once you-"

"Don't," Nesta whispered, staring at the wall. "Stay. Please."

Please. It was a word that Nesta rarely spoke, one that he was convinced was only reserved for him during her greatest time of need. It was a selfish request, they both knew it, but they also both knew that Cassian would do just that. He would stay.

Every time.

He would stay.

Minutes passed in utter silence before Nesta reached behind her and took his hand. His fingers clasped around hers and neither of them said a word as Nesta's breathing evened out. Cassian's body lost its tension and he found himself slipping under the blankets, but keeping to his side. He continued to hold her hand, though. He never let go.

Even when morning came, their hands remained together, clinging to one another as if nothing else mattered.

[s-creations]

Fluctuates Chapter 4 - Drinking at a Bar

One-Shot entries for the #RadioStatic Week 2024.

Yep, I'm doing this again! I'm going to make sure that I can keep track with uploading this time. Also, I will be sticking with the Fluff path, because I need more Fluff with these two.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Alastor/Vox (RadioStatic) Warnings/Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lots of Fluff because I want it, Rosie will be in this, Probably other characters not sure at the moment, Husk has arrived as well!

Vox had no idea why he thought this evening would actually be calm. 

Maybe because bar crawls were a Vees Friday tradition. All three heading out to the closest distributors of alcohol to end the work week with a loud and drunk evening. Now it was just Vox and Alastor, the latter asking Vox out as a way to have a one-on-one celebration of their current victories. Just them.

Maybe it was the fact that it was a Wednesday, hump day (heh) of the week. The day where the majority of sinners would rather stay home than go out for another night. That way they could properly recover before going out once more. 

Maybe it was the fact that this ‘party’ of two had gone to a dive bar. One on the outskirts of the city that was barely used, especially in the afternoon, but on that Alastor insisted on going to. Meaning the time of the week and the day helped with making the already empty area practically a ghost town. 

Maybe it was the fact that he was with Alastor this time. The Radio Demon getting a very rare wild hair to go out on the town. Even crazier with wanting to actually drink in public. But Alastor was, technically, the calmest demon that Vox knew. 

All together, that should have equaled out to an evening where Vox would just listen to Alastor tell a few stories from when he was alive and down in Hell before they both turned in. Just a night on the town, the two of them. Nothing too crazy.

But no.

Why would that ever happen in a place like Hell?

Because here’s what it actually boiled down to. 

Alastor finding the most hole-in-the-wall bar to ever exist in the city. That held only a few customers, sure, but some of the most rough, do not mess with sorts that Vox had not seen in some time. With more seeming to turn up out of nowhere the moment the two of them had claimed a seat. All compacted together in a place that left little room to breath, let alone fight, with an air of tense stillness that Vox thought it was going to snap at any point.

Oh, and Vox had no stable connection on his network out here. Just great. A blind eye in the roughest part of town. 

And if that wasn’t just the most perfect slice of crap cake to ever be handed over to the Media Overlord, Alastor seemed a bit more jovial than normal. Even if he hadn’t downed that much, he acted a little out of character.  Which, Vox uncomfortably noted, drew a lot of unwanted attention onto them. No doubt the patrons took interest with how lowered Alastor’s defenses seemed to be. 

And who wouldn’t want a shot at taking the Radio Demon down.

So now the supposed quiet evening was nothing more than the stress ever building in Vox as he kept an eye on Alastor and the other sinners away. The bartender at least had enough wits about them to keep a good length away, even if he looked more bored than worried about the situation. Only approaching when called over to pour more rye.

Alastor was regaling another tale from his human years, no doubt from the numerous murders he’d done. Explaining in fine detail as to why the person deserved to die and how it was all pulled off. But Vox was barely paying attention. Instead, head leaning on his hand, he was keeping a side eye on a patron that was inching closer to them. 

A sinner that was practically tall as he was wide, with the head of a bull and horns that branched off into three different points for each, had started the night tucked away in the corner of the room. But as the hours passed, he kept getting closer. Leaning against the wall. Moving to inspect the broken jukebox that hadn’t produced a single note that entire night. To eventually sitting at the opposite end of the bar from where Alastor and Vox sat. 

All the while, Vox’s defense rose. Probably looking just as ‘casually’ as the other sinner did. But he knew that if someone was stupid enough to try to start something, he had to be quick enough to end it. Even if that meant, at the very least, getting Alastor out as soon as possible and to something that Vox could use to get them out of this neighborhood. 

“Are you even listening?”

Vox blinked, eyes turning away from the unwanted listener to Alastor. Who was offering the closest thing he could to a frown. Which was the smallest smile with furrowed brows of worry. 

“Ah,” Vox cleared his throat, “Sorry, no I was.”

“You sure? I just got to the best part, you normally laugh.”

“Sorry, just feeling…a little tense is all.” 

“That’s why we’re here tonight, isn’t it? To loosen up just a little? You’ve barely had anything to drink. My good man,” Alastor called out while waving a hand to the barkeeper, “If you would be so kind as to top us off.”

“I think you- we’ve had enough, Alastor.”

“Nonsense, we’ve just started!”

“Yet you’re acting more off than usual.” Vox muttered weakly. Shaking his head, the Media Overlord continued with, “Still, maybe we should finish up this party at my apartment, yeah?”

“Oh, that stuffy apartment. Now, I’m not saying that I’m not fond of the way you spend your money. I get it. New Overlord status comes with a hefty pay raise. But you can’t be stuck inside all the time. Getting out can offer a new…perspective.” 

“We’re in a bar right now.”

“You know what I mean.”

As the barkeeper approached once more, Vox’s words to send them away died on his tongue. A flash of something metal catching his attention. The sinner from across the way had attempted to slowly and covertly pull a dagger from his jacket. An angelic dagger. 

Fuck. 

Just as Vox started to get up, intending on grabbing Alastor’s wrist to make a rush to the door, was halted when something shoved him closer to the other demon. Alastor smoothly wrapped his arm around the stumbling Overlord as the sounds of someone choking on their blood filled the air. Trying to orient himself quickly, Vox charged up an attack as the other demon held the angelic dagger tightly as he charged forward. Barstools toppling over as he tried to close the distance as quickly as possible. 

Only for shadow tentacles to shoot out from the ground and pierce the attacking sinner with ease. The body instantly slumped, dropping to the ground when it was no longer held up. 

Vox blinked slowly, mind slowly catching up with what he’d just witnessed. Still resting against Alastor’s side, the Media Overlord turned to find out what had happened behind him. The bartender had blocked another angelic dagger with a pack of unopened playing cards. The wielder of said weapon had their throat slit, his front covered in blood. 

The rest of the patrons were up at this point, their own weapons visibly shaking in their hands as they waited for someone else to try. 

“Wha…” Vox stumbled slightly as Alastor stood now. Arm still wrapped around the Media Overlord to the point where Vox had to wrap his own around Alastor’s shoulders. Flushing darkly as he realized how intimate this position was. 

“Gentlemen!” Alastor called out, sounding nothing like the carefree rambler he’d been a few minutes before. Instead, his smile was tight, eyes narrowed as he flickered his attention from sinner to sinner. “I know what you’re thinking and I must say, do you really think that I’d become that inebriated in public? Perish the thought. And how rude for you to feel that you had the right to interrupt our date night.”

“Alastor-” Vox’s whisper was cut off when Alastor squeezed his hip gently. 

“We’re not here for you,” one sinner snapped out, “Just hand over the big head and no one gets hurt.”

That caused Vox’s screen to flicker momentarily with confusion. “Wait, you’re not here for Alastor?” 

“We weren’t even expecting him! We heard you were changing your bar crawl date and figured we could use that to our advantage! But we were met with Radio Demon and his stupid cat instead!”

“Rawr.” The barkeeper said in the most deadpanned voice. 

“Well, I must say that I am terribly upset that you decided to ruin our evening,” said Alastor, “It would be in your best interest to leave. Now. Before I turn this into a proper bloodbath.”

One sinner took the option and, after dropping their weapon, ran out the door. The supposed ‘leader’ yelling out a “Coward!” before facing the Radio Demon once more. On his part, Alastor looked more annoyed than worried at the number that faced him. In fact, he pointedly sat back down, Vox unwillingly following to where he actually ended up in the Radio Demon’s lap.

“Husk, would you mind pouring another drink while I deal with this annoyance?” 

“You ass! Get up and fight, you can’t-” 

Vox winced slightly as the sinner’s head was popped off easily. Eyes following the numerous tentacles that appeared seemingly from nowhere as they practically tore everyone apart. His attention was pulled away feeling lips brushing against his neck. Turning to find Alastor’s eyes narrowed on him. The Radio Demon’s cheeks flushed from the alcohol no doubt rivaling Vox’s own heated screen.

“Come now, we’re out on the town together. Leave them to their business and we’ll enjoy the rest of the evening before turning in. How does that sound?” 

“O-Okay.” Vox responded softly, more than happy to accept the alcohol ladened kiss. Easily able to ignore the screams of panic and fear as he tasted the rye on Alastor’s tongue.

Husk let out a huff as he cleaned off a new pool of blood from the countertop. “Don’t pick my bar as a date location next time.” 

[mistfallengw2]

2, 8 and 17 for Aurelia combat asks? (or anyone more appropriate)

@violentnornography

GW2 OC Questions: Combat Edition ⚔️✨

2 got answered here

-

8. Do they have any visible scarring or lasting injuries from previous combat experiences? How did they get them? How do they feel about them?

Her pre-Mists scars were few and barely evident, as her late mate always took great care of her wounds since they were cubs, to the point she kept treating any visible scar until fur could grow back on it. She wouldn't have minded sporting cool scars like most of the warband did, but Ardea considered any of those as her own failure to keep her bandmates safe, so Aurelia allowed her to do her thing at least on her.

Her revenant powers came with particularly strong self-healing abilities, to the point what was barely visible beforehand was completely cured and gone in a matter of minutes after receiving Glint's facet. With everything Aurelia went through in the Mists, that power lessened a bunch, but it still kept her free of scars (even bad wounds would scar within hours/days, and the subsequent scar would be gone within a week/month).

The only thing that can scar her permanently is strong magic that does enough damage to overcome her self-healing powers, like Balthazar's or the one Eir's longbow was enchanted with. The first left visible scarring on her chest after she was impaled by his sword (she survived due to the facet getting shattered and flooding her with magic, which kept her alive while the self-healing went into overdrive to attempt fixing that disaster, but his fire killed her first) and even being revived couldn't fully undo the damage, while Bangar's arrow kept burning from within (it was powerful enough to hurt the ice dragon, so her enchanted armor was no match, let alone her flesh) and it quickly depleted her magic as it tried to continuously undo and contain the damage, making the Scrying Pool necessary to save her. Aurelia doesn't particularly like to show those scars, but at least she's gotten less self-conscious about them over the years.

Though not a scar, she only has one of her horns left intact. One of the lower ones broke off when she was flung away by the explosion caused by Kralkatorrik's attack that killed Aurene, and she later had both filed down for comfort (later wears some accessories made by Adamas with Aurene's crystals), while the left upper one snapped in half during the airship crash in Cantha (missing half later replaced with Aurene's magic). While she's not happy about them being broken, she likes having something of Aurene with her at all times.

-

18. Can they handle themselves in a fight without using weapons? And without using magic? What would they do if they were in a fight and disarmed/unable to use magic?

Back before her Mists misadventures, when she didn't have any magic, Aurelia was not someone who'd ever back away from a fight. Being as strong and big (if not bigger) than most male charr is an advantage she never avoided using, often charging into enemies using just her armor's spikes as "weapons" and even occasionally picking up smaller foes to throw or hit others with, regardless of whether she was actually disarmed or not. Back then, drunken brawls were one of her favorite off-duty activities, and a norn friend of Daunte once claimed she was a bar brawler worthy of legends and that he was lucky to have always had her on his side.

That said, while those skills came in handy when her magic was unreliable for the first few years of having it, now she doesn't look for occasions to fight like that anymore. If she was in a real fight with no access to magic or weapons, she'd fight only if she had a reason to, otherwise she'd try to escape or deescalate.

[yesistolethisurl]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Characters: Tav, Original Male Character, Scleritas Fel, The Dark Urge

Additional Tags: Tav and the Dark Urge are separate characters, Vertigo Symptoms, Implied Cannibalism, Imprisonment, Captivity, Memory Loss, Nail Injury, Disturbing Themes, Warning: The Dark Urge, The Dark Urge does not appear but their presence is felt, no beta we die like my honor run, Tiefling Tav, Wizard Tav, BG3FicFeb, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Loose interpretation of 5e rules

Summary:

A man awakens in a cell with a splitting headache, acute vertigo, and no memory of who he is. This is, unfortunately, not the worst part of his tenday.

or

"What was Tav doing when they were abducted?"

Stale, musty air coated his tongue and clung to his face as the man felt consciousness come back to him. Vertigo still spun his vision, but he pushed himself to sit up. Dug his fingers into the rags he had been sleeping on, still damp with sweat.

Deep breaths, he told himself. One, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

Out, two, three, four.

Deep breaths, then move.

Focus came more readily to him as he opened his eyes. Beyond the cell bars, torch light shimmered off an assortment of jars and flasks that lined the opposite wall. In front of them, a table of some kind, with strips of leather folded neatly on it. Tucked away in the corner beyond, a sparse desk. A quill in a drying ink pot its only decoration.

His own cell was even more stripped back. A pile of rags that he was now sitting on, and a bucket that didn’t seem to have been emptied for some time. No windows were visible, but next to the desk, a doorframe peaked out of the shadows.

The man stilled, listened.

There were footsteps, a faint rumble of conversation, then fading off into nothingness.

The man called out, then flinched. He tried again, and a croaking, wheezing, thing answered instead. Once more, shouting this time, and no words would come from him. He gripped the bars and shook them, rattling the iron.

Help me, he thought. I’m in here, please help me.

A deep breath, and then another cry, bouncing off of the stone. Thought would not connect to tongue. He collapsed forward, palms smacking against the floor.

The vertigo was back. Cold sweat crawled down his neck. The room swung around him counterclockwise before resetting, then turning again, again, again.

The man lowered himself back onto the rags, biting back a self-pitying groan. No patter of footsteps reached him, no whispers from the other side of the door. Only the occasional crackle and pop from the torches filled the air. He shivered, wishing he could take one down from the wall and warm his hands.

He closed his eyes, and the spinning slowed. He saw no point fighting sleep, the strength he’d mustered melting away. The sound of the torches snapping and crackling, like patrolling guardsmen calling to each other in the dark, faded into the background.

Someone must have lit them, the man thought. Someone would be back to light them again.

Sleep proved to be a temporary balm. He didn’t know how long it had been, but his awakening had been heralded by a needle-fingered pain, at first taping, then prodding, then gripping its knuckles through his skull.

He pressed his forehead against the floor, stone grinding against his horns. The undercurrent that had been spinning the room earlier had graduated to a riptide, pulling him along in whichever direction it deemed fit. The man tried to swear, growling in frustration at the word-gunk that came out instead. He clutched at his rag bed, and begged his lungs to breathe.

One, two, three four.

The room lurched in a new direction.

Hold, two, three, four.

The needle-fingers turned to a vice.

Out, two, three, four—

It was like a synapse snapped back into place. The man gasped, eyes watering. The pain relinquished it’s grip, fingers dragging in lingering shivers down the nape of his neck and along his jaw. The rotation of the room slowed, not unlike a millstone grinding to a halt. The man rubbed his eyes and looked around. Details that had evaded him earlier now readily presented themselves. His bed was not simply rags, but the remains of shirts, trousers, blouses. No level of quality or sizing seemed to unite them, other than their present condition. Scraggly, shredded golden brocade lay together with rough spun gray in the same heap. Possibly the same material as his threadbare tunic. The smell of stale sweat clung to it all.

His hand came away tacky and grime covered as he brush some strands of hair from his face. His hair was shorter than it should have been, his beard patchy and unevenly trimmed. What was most startling, though, was the state of his claws; cracked and caked with dried blood, they’d been shorn down to the finger, almost to the nail bed in some places. On the wall next to him, scratched in lines marred the rock, all at seemingly random lengths and orientations. He pressed his hand against the wall, his own blunted claws visible in what dim light there was. Traced every single line, the repetition of the ritual settling easily into the muscles in his fingers.

Keys rattled in the dark, and the man turned in time to see the wooden door sliding shut, then stopping. The one who had entered was almost goblin-esque in stature, perhaps a bit taller than average. His shoulders were slopped forward, setting his posture at curve, hands held behind his back. His livery was shredded and restitched in various places, a mangled and sleeveless overcoat draped over him, the outfit completed by a feathered top hat wreathed by what could be mistaken for a snakes skeleton. Torchlight flickered against his gaunt features, showing the cracks in the chalk white of his face.

The steward caught his gaze, sneering, before slamming the door shut. He flinched, and the creature made a hacking sound that he realized was amusement. He’d never heard so much venom in a giggle.

“Do you still not care for your slop?” the steward said. “The masters rules are not optional, wretch. You either eat, or you starve.”

He watched the creature work for a minute, meticulously wiping dust away from some of the jars lining the wall. The liquid inside them clouded, obscuring the specimens within. The man gathered himself, then spoke.

“Who is your master?”

The steward stopped and turned back to him, dropping his grin.

“Who do you serve? I'm assuming they're the owner of this laboratory?”

The steward didn’t respond, only creeping closer to his cell, beholding the man like he might lash out. He could see now that “gaunt” had been a generous descriptor. There was hardly a spare inch of skin on the creature’s face that wasn’t hewn against bone, save for around his mouth, where dead skin had begun to peel away. He clapped suddenly, then snapped several times, as if to see if the man would flinch again.

“Gracious me,” the steward murmured as he turned away. “Gracious, gracious me. To have dared to doubt the master’s brilliance, oh, even for a second. So much to do, scalpels to blunt, bindings to sharpen, so much to do!”

“Wait, please. I don't know why I'm even in here. Have I done something? Was there some sort of trouble?”

The steward turned back to him, something foul and vicious twinkling in his eyes.

“I dare say there has been trouble, and you're in the thick of it. But not to worry, dear fellow, for the Master will enlighten you to your purpose here. And then the game shall begin again.”

The man gripped the iron bars of his enclosure.

“Why not start the game again now? You and me.”

“Oh, but I would not dream of denying my master the pleasure! And it would hardly be sporting. Why, you’ve scarcely recovered enough of your brainmatter to retain your previous title.”

“What title? What are you talking about?” The steward didn’t respond, simply picking up a rag as he began to polish one of the many flasks on the back wall again. “At least tell me your name, or my name. Give me something to go off of,” the man called out.

“Oh, I'm certain it will come back to you in time. Best enjoy your meal while you think on it. A hungry mind can only do so much thinking before it begins to eat itself.”

The steward blew out the torches before he left. No prodding, pleading, or fawning had won the creature over. His loyalty was at least commendable. Whatever master he served, the steward was adamant that they be the one to answer the man’s questions. His attempt at a threat had only earned him another malicious titter before the steward slammed the door shut, keys rattling all the while.

The man’s tail curled and un-curled, flicking in irritation. Too many questions swam in his head, too many unknown variables. He’d been here long enough for the steward mock him with some sense of familiarity, but how long? And where, where was he? A compound? A fortress? A prison? The constant sound of dripping water and the damp stillness of the air suggested it was somewhere underground, but beyond that? And the steward knew something of him, a title, his title, he’d had one. Gone with all other sense of memory, no anchor beyond this wretched cell, no name, nothing and no one—-

Deep breaths, the man told himself. Deep breaths.

The steward had made one good point; the gnawing feeling in his stomach was effecting more than just his physical capabilities. He hadn’t thought to give the bucket more than a cursory glance when he…came back to consciousness? He wasn’t certain how to describe what had happened, but his mind felt clearer for it. Or at least it had, before hunger made itself impossible to ignore.

It did beg the question, though; if that bucket had been for his meals, what exactly had he been using as a privy?

The man chose not to dwell on it, and pulled the bucket closer. A wooden spoon sat limply inside, sticking out of some great, big lump of…something. Even with his heightened sense of vision in the dark, it was difficult to distinguish what exactly was in the bucket. It smelled of rotten cabbage and mud. Certainly something organic, then.

He jostled the lump with the spoon, gagging at the renewed smell. Had he eaten any of this? He couldn't have for a while, if the pain in his gut was any indication.

He poked at the mass, turning it over.

Molars.

Three gray and yellow molars, still attached to a fleshy segment of jawbone. The middle glinted, a gold cap still clinging to the crown.

The bucket hit the wall with a loud ‘thunk’ as he shoved it away, covering his mouth and nose with both hands, as if it could protect him from the contents. The man pressed himself into the corner, rattling the cell partition.

He looked down at his bed of rags and repressed the urge to retch.

He wasn’t certain how long it was until he pried his hands away from his mouth. His breathing still wouldn’t slow, wouldn’t slow, wouldn’t calm down, gods above and below—

The man threw himself against the bars and shook them with all of his might. He howled and begged, please, dear gods, I’m here, I’m here, don’t leave me in here, please. His voice finally giving out after what felt like hours, but what must’ve been mere minutes. The drips of water, and the occasional scuttle of rodents feet were his only reply.

He knelt, pressing his head against the bars, spent. The room began to tilt as he caught his breath, the sense of some numbing fog hanging at the edge of his senses. Something clinked against his knee, and his fumbling hand reached out for it.

A small, straight splinter of iron that must have chipped off of the gate. Too small to use in the lock, but as a component it could—

Component.

Spell components.

Hands shaking, the man set the splinter down as gently as he could. He cupped his hands together through the bars.

“Fiat lux,” he whispered.

Blue flame sprung into hands, at first small, then rising to the size of a flamebolt before settling. A soothing warmth swelled with the flame, the scents of the room more muted now. He held the flame close as he could, only surrendering it to lie down when his eyelids began to droop and his focus began to fade.

In his sleep addled state, he could imagine the various hands that had passed over the scraps he now lay on, wondered if their previous owners had had any inkling of where their clothing would end up. Whether they’d been granted ignorance, or had been his forbearers in this cell.

The man’s hand tightened into a fist. Pressed the sliver of iron into the meat of it. If this “master” had wished so badly to play some game with him, they should have cut out his tongue first.

At the rattle of keys at the door, the man shoved a fist full of rags over his scratched in writings in the stone. No more time for calculations. The plan would move forward.

The steward staggered in, eyes downcast as he snapped his fingers to light the rooms torches. All of the care he’d put toward the containers lining the shelf had seemingly evaporated overnight, as he grabbed one haphazardly and swilled down it’s contents.

“Well? You have anything to say for yourself?” he slurred towards the cell.

The man blinked at him uncomprehendingly and grunted. The creature stared before his face twisted in rage, and flung the flask at him. Glass shattered against the cell door, scattering in every direction.

“Mongrel. A pox on you. A pox upon this day, and all that follow,” he spat, grabbing two more and plopping himself down at his desk. Through the liquid, the man could see swollen shapes squish against the glass. The man watched him, rolling the sliver between his fingers. He had been planning to lure the creature over, but perhaps he could preserve his strength a little longer. The man brushed what glass he could away from his rag pile, and lay back down.

With his back turned, he could hear the steward sniffling piteously, the occasional weeping muffled against the desk. He flexed his hand into a fist, relaxed, flexed. Patience.

The man loosened his posture, kept his breathing soft and steady, until the steward began to snore, slumped over his desk.

He crept close to the cell door, and stretched his arm through the bars.

“Veni et iuva me,” he whispered.

A spectral blue hand appeared in the empty space. When the steward did not stir, he motioned for it to get closer. He could see the ring of keys, sitting tidily under the steward’s waistcoat.

He inched the hand closer, meticulously untying the knot that held them in place.

In a second, the keys began to droop. The man twisted his wrist, and the hand snatched them before they could hit the floor. His heart was hammering in his ears, twisting in his gut. The man recalled the mage hand, and the apparition snapped back too quickly, hitting the cage door.

The keyring clattered against the iron.

He froze, eyes locked on the figure at the desk.

The steward snorted in his sleep, then resettled.

Hands shaking, the man took the key ring from the hand before dismissing it, then lay them down on one half of the rags. He raised the other up, exposing the ritual circle he’d carved. He murmured an incantation, and the cell, the steward, and the rest of the room was rendered completely still.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes of silence, if he could stretch it. Ten minutes to complete his work.

He felt the lock grind open and gave the door a cautious push. It scrapped in deep grooves against the floor, but made no noise. The man stood, took a deep breath, and then moved.

No surgical tools, nor any other implements were in the room, despite the stewards instructions to himself. Not even a pen knife for the desk. He could see now that both the desk and table were stained with a rusted brown, even as the stewards spittle added to the mixture. The steward let out a silent hiccup, hat tilting ever so slightly off of his head.

The man pictured running back to the cell, fashioning a shiv from the glass and the rags, ending this loathsome creature here and now.

The wooden door unlocked, swinging easily on the hinges. Quicker to lock the steward in here, at least for now. If it came to that…well, then it would have come to that. He gave the steward a final look, then snapped the door shut behind him. Eight minutes remained.

The smells of the laboratory were, blessedly, fainter once the man was outside of it, though not completely absent. Indeed, the air seemed more humid out here than in his cell. Veins of water seeped out from between the stone, leaving puddles in the crags of the hallway. The torches in the hall sputtered, struggling to stay lit with the extra moisture in the air.

Underground it was, then. But underground where? For all he knew, he may as well have been locked in some section of the Undermountain. The man moved carefully, testing the rock underfoot occasionally for any vents or pressure plates. With his luck, he probably was.

The hallway turned and twisted, but never once split. The man could feel the Silence spell still hold, despite however far he’d walked. Five minutes left.

As he crept along the wall, the man felt something bump into to his shoulder. He looked to the wall, the same pattern of stone and brick mixing together. He pressed his hand to it. In the same instance that he felt the brick outline of a door frame, the illusion came apart. A crude iron door with a small, barred window now stood before him. He looked in, half expecting to see another poor soul in a cell. Instead, there was a rust stained work bench laden with various items, arranged in a row.

The man went for the key ring, but to his surprise, the door creaked open with the faintest nudge. The steward must’ve been too drunk to remember to lock up. Beyond the arrangement, the objects on the table didn’t seem to have much in common. A weathered napsack. A purple drawstring pouch, faintly smelling of fire quartz and balsam. The paw of a rabbit, or rabbit-like creature affixed to a small pewter chain. An old robe and boots, haphazardly patched together. At the end of the table, scattered pages interrupted the neat arrangement, ripped out a stained tome, whipped around in every direction and spilling onto the floor.

The man gathered some of the fallen pages up, then paused. Whoever had torn this tome apart had only gone after the back half of the book. Not that it’s author had been much tidier. Just looking at a spare scroll for a firebolt spell, the script was slanted, ink splotches staining the surrounding paper, as if written in a hurry. He gathered the pages together in the tome, felt the heft in it in his hands. He’d held this book before.

He looked back to the other items on the table. Had they all been his, or were they an amalgamation of trophies?

A door screeched on it’s hinges in the distance. No time for guesswork, he’d spent too much time here as it was. The man swept the remaining items into the sack, foisting it over his shoulder. Two minutes. The silence still held, he could feel it. Had the steward awoken anyways? Another door jutted out, the frame wider than any he’d seen yet. Beyond it he could here whispers. He slowed to a crouch, listening around the corner. Two voices, masculine, upper city from the accents.

“Be quick about it. Lady Orin wants this place cleared before any of the Banite’s men come sweeping in,” the elder speaker said.

“You think they knew about this place?”

“From the way the mistress told it, there wasn’t anything the fallen one wouldn’t have surrendered to him.”

A pause, the sound of tools twisting against miniscule gears. The place was trapped, then.

“Was it true, then? That the previous chosen was, um. Of favored heritage?”

“For all of the good that it did. And Lady Orin is “of favored heritage,” so learn to bite your tongue, novice,” the elder snapped.

The man pressed an ear closer to the door, brows furrowed. Patriars did as patriars pleased, usually gracelessly, but what would one want with him? Had one of their number decided that they didn’t play with the lives of their neighbors enough? And ‘chosen,’ chosen for what? Something that would put them at odds with Bane worshipers, evidently. Of all the gods who could be arrayed against the Black Hand, to approve of a ‘chosen’ setting up shop down here…

A sickening chill settled into him. Humanoid sacrifice was outlawed, even with the city’s permissive policy towards religious tolerance. Putting a citizen of Baldur's Gate to death, even in the name of a god, was still a capital offence.

That hadn’t stopped certain patriars from trying to get away with it.

The click of a lever, the stretching of fiber.

The sound of a crossbow being loaded.

“Mind yourself,” the elder voice said. “There could still be those loyal to the fallen hiding here.”

Thirty seconds left on the Silence. The man snatched the tome from his bag, praying that the incantation he needed was there. His finger stopped over the page near exactly.

The door creaked open.

In that moment, the iron splinter slipped from his grasp.

“Wait. Did you hear—”

The man slammed his hand down on the iron. “Non movere!”

Spectral, blue chains danced around the men, and a skin of arcane energy froze over their bodies, leaving the two locked in a twinned look of astonishment.

No time to celebrate. The man shot past them, the snarls behind gritted teeth following him. Within seconds, he felt the spell slip from pure distance. Pain gripped his limbs, his lungs ached. He could swear he could hear three enraged voices behind him now. Even slicked with moisture, the cobblestone ground against his bare feet. The walls and floor blended together now, dashing and darting forward, ever forward.

A metal ladder stuck out of the darkness so abruptly, the man had to keep from running into it. He grasped the farthest rung he could and started up, two rungs, four rungs, six rungs, getting closer every second.

Something thudded into his shoulder. Warm wetness trickled down his arm as it began lose its feeling. The man looked down, saw the fletched end of a crossbow bolt sticking out of him. Saw the one who had fired it. The younger of the pair was scrambling up. Even armored, he was gaining on him now. The man locked his legs and elbows around the ladder rungs.

“Fulgur!” he screamed.

Electricity coursed through him, every nerve ending in him set ablaze, his jaw locked so tightly he feared his teeth would crack. He heard the younger man howl, then go silent as a metallic clang hit the stone below.

Burning nerves warred with the wave of numbness that was now spreading through his chest. The man pealed his hands off where they’d near melded themselves to the metal, pulling himself up and up until he reach a metal covering overhead, the plate refusing to budge. Forward, forward, forward was all that mattered. The cover gave way, finally, and he clawed his way higher, up and out.

Lantern light dappled cobble stone streets in the distance, while cool, stone walls encircled the street around him. A back alley, then, probably lower city. No light decorated the windows above, but the stars, the air, gods, how sweet the air was.

No time for that now. The man shoved the manhole cover back into place, then dragged a barrel full of trash from the alley corner on top of it. The sounds of drunken slurring and enraged sobriety echoed against the stone, melding into a single cacophonous melody. Even at this elevation, the smells of Grey Harbour wafted over him. By the nine, he never thought he could miss the smells of rotting fish so.

The man looked up, then looked again in disbelief. The stars were gone. Not covered by clouds, but something else, some vast shape of darkness moving to cover the stars, one by one. An alien groan filled the air, and the shape began to unfurl. Began to reach downward.

He tried to run, force his legs to move faster as every muscle of his body burned and cried out from disuse. Something slammed into his back, and a thousand prickling pins shot through the mans nerves before turning to a swaddling numbness. He felt himself fall, landing against some slick surface, and then fell into unconsciousness.

“Tell me; who are you?”

[stressed-and-fluff-obsessed]

(you don't have to respond to this :D) I found your blog a moment ago and I'm a fan of all your fics! If you would like to, of course, it would be nice to see another Rosie & Alastor fic from you (I love these two) (your previous fic about them was amazing, I'm sure any similar story would be just as good, especially since not many people put Rosie in the role of a lee, that's a sweet change) Please don't do anything you don't want to tho! It's just a suggestion in case you're bored or something ^^

Thank you so much and I most certainly will!

I wasn’t sure which one you wanted as the lee but I think it was Rosie, so sorry if I got it wrong let me know if I did!

Long Nights

Summary: Rosie’s working late quite a lot to the point where Alastor notices and investigates the reason

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why him. Lucifer was getting on his last nerve again teasing him about being a deer and calling him Bambi and whatnot and it was getting on his nerves.

He watched as Lucifer got up in his face and started teasing him. “To think a powerful overlord like you has the form of one of the most fragile and scared animals on earth, isn’t that adorable~” Lucifer taunted him and his eyes shifted to radio dials, his antlers grew and a pale green aura started glowing around him.

“I would suggest you stop sometime soon Your Highness.” Alastor bit out that last part, displeasure clear as day on his face. “Oh? And why would I do that? You’re so much fun to mess with!” Lucifer grinned, summoning his wings before lifting himself to Alastor’s eye level and flipping himself upside down.

Alastor’s tendrils grew from his back and his grin became wider before he used one of the tendrils to point behind the King.

Confused at what this Bellhop was pointing at he flipped himself right again and fluttered down to the ground again before turning around and nearly flinching at the sight.

Charlie stood there, arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face, her tail and horns were out as well. “Dad.” Charlie snapped, “Sorry Char Char.” Lucifer apologized and stole one more glance at Alastor, “This isn’t over Bellhop.” Lucifer sneered at him and in turn Alastor did the same.

Lucifer averted his gaze from Alastor and put his wings away, twirling his cane behind him and walking off to Husker’s bar for a drink.

Alastor then relaxed, his features reverting back to normal. He then noticed the concerned Princess approaching him and he turned to face her. “Are you okay Alastor? I know how my dad can be.” Charlie asked him, concern present in her voice.

“Not to worry my dear I am perfectly fine.” Alastor replied with his usual grin, “Now if you’ll excuse me Charlie dear I have a few errands to run, I’ll be back soon.” Alastor told her, sweeping past her and out the door, hearing the princess’s goodbye over his shoulder as he left.

He didn’t really have errands to run, he was on his way to visit his dear friend Rosie. He’d noticed she’d been working a lot lately and wasn’t free as much as she used to be and kept canceling plans so he was going to find out why and what was wrong with his friend.

He walked down the streets of Hell on his way to Cannibal Town, most demons giving him space on the sidewalk in fear of his position and the other more foolish demons that wanted to start a fight with the infamous Radio Demon well…you know what happened.

When he’d reached the gates of Cannibal Town he walked into the town, quickly being greeted by some shop owners and playing kids which he returned the greeting with a small hand wave.

By now with how much he visited, most of the cannibals recognized and knew him even without his stories.

He walked to Rosie’s emporium and opened the door, closing it behind him and looking up finding himself shocked to see that the line was its usual length, so what had kept this woman so busy? Alastor quickly found a free table and ordered himself a drink as he watched his friend work.

She seemed very occupied in what she was doing, constantly rushing from one thing to the next trying to get everything done, he supposed she didn’t get all that tired?

But still he watched her, making sure she wasn’t overworking herself and so far she was doing a wonderful job and he’d hoped it stayed that way.

~*~

A little while later he saw that Rosie had only gotten busier so he decided to try to help her out. He merged with the shadows disappearing from his chair and reappearing at her side making her jump.

“Alastor good to see ya but don’t scare a girl like that and I’m workin!” Rosie grinned, smacking him on the arm playfully while going back to her work.

“My apologies my dear it just seemed like you could use a little bit of assistance.” Alastor told her, gesturing to the long line leading from her counter but she only waved him off.

“It’s fine Alastor I can handle it, I’ll call you when I’m done but for now I need to work so shoo!” Rosie told him, raising and using one hand to shoo him away. Alastor chuckled at his friend’s antics, she was always rather dismissive when he visited while she was working, a trait he admired in her.

So heeding her request he merged with the shadows once more and reappeared back at his table where his microphone staff sat.

He picked up the precious artifact and placed a few bills on the table to cover his earlier drink before waving a goodbye to Rosie and exiting the emporium.

~~~~

Alastor then with nothing to do decided to wander Cannibal Town maybe for something to do. Alastor wandered the town square where he saw children playing with each other, shop owners selling things like balloons and food, other cannibals talking with each other, you know the normal things you would see in a town square.

Being well known and not too feared in this town a group of young cannibals spotted him and waved him over for a conversation. Alastor noticed their request and walked over, quickly being dragged into their conversation.

“So Mr.Radio Demon, how are things with Ms.Rosie?” One of the cannibals asked him, “Quite well I must say, although it does seem like she’s been rather busy as of late.” Alastor replied and the group then understood why he was here.

“Ahh yes Ms.Rosie has been quite backed up with all the orders she’s been getting, she’s managing herself well but it is a lot of work.” One of the other cannibals told him, placing her chin in one of her hands.

“Do you know why that may be?” Alastor asked her and she nodded, “A lot of our people are a little shaken up by the last extermination so they’ve been going to Ms.Rosie for help seeing as she is our leader.” She answered him.

“I see, thank you but I really must be going.” Alastor told them and waved goodbye as he wandered off. He then started wandering towards the exit of the town when he remembered….he could just teleport.

Annoyed radio static came from him at his own foolishness and walked to a rather shady spot under a building and merged with the shadows to return back to the hotel.

~*~

When he returned he walked through the door and was quickly greeted by Charlie. “Alastor! You’re back early, how’d it go?” She asked him as he twirled his cane behind him.

“Quite well, I had to return early because I had already gotten everything I need.” Alastor replied, “Now if you’ll excuse me dear I need to return to my room.” He finished, brushing past her and up the stairs, hearing her farewell as he left.

He walked up the flights of stairs and down the dimly lit hallway until he reached his room. When he arrived he entered the space and found himself to be rather hungry.

To solve this problem he shifted into his more demonic form and placed his microphone staff against the wall before disappearing into his foggy swamp to go hunt.

A little while later he reemerged with a dead deer and placed it on his table on the line between his swamp and his room and sat down to begin eating.

Shortly after he’d started eating the phone that he always kept for emergencies (not really used for emergencies with Rosie) buzzed and his gaze locked onto it.

One of his ears flicked curiously before pinning back to his head and his grin became more strained, he hated technology.

But with a sigh he stood and still refused to touch the phone and summoned one of his tendrils to pick it up for him and sure enough it was Rosie telling him she was finished.

He hummed in approval and set the phone down, glad to be rid of the disgusting device as his ears raised again and his grin became normal as he abandoned his food and left his room to walk down to the parlor.

He exited the space and walked down the hallway quickly reappearing in the parlor and heading for the door once more. “Where are you going Al?” Charlie’s voice spoke up and he turned.

“Just going for an outing my dear I’ll be back soon.” Alastor replied with his regular smile and swept out the door, shutting it behind him.

Deciding to take the teleportation route again he stepped into the shadows of the hotel and quickly made his way into the shadows and back towards Cannibal Town.

When he arrived once more his shadow just had to put him in the most unfortunate place…

“Why the hell are you here?!” Susan shouted at him and his ears pinned back in displeasure as he stared down at her. “I’m here to visit Rosie dear Susan.” Alastor replied, it was taking all his willpower not to teleport away from her.

“Well leave she doesn’t want you here!” Susan snapped at him, and Alastor audibly sighed.

“Don’t get smart with me!” (Cue more unintelligible Karen shouting)

A little while later the shouting drew Rosie out of her emporium as she swept outside the sight from the source of the shouting almost made her burst out laughing.

Alastor stood there with a sarcastic look on his face staring down at a very angry Susan shouting at him like her life depended on it. Rosie chuckled some at the sight and made her way over to her friend.

“Susan dear can you leave ol’ Alastor alone for me?” Rosie asked her and she huffed, flipping the bird at Alastor making Rosie laugh out loud before shuffling away.

“Whihiy dohoes she hahate you so muhuch my friehend?” Rosie giggled and he rolled his eyes, “I have no idea my dear but come on then, let’s not wait out here all day.” He remarked before heading inside of the emporium with her.

Now inside the building Rosie shooed him to the back and had him sit down at a table there where she had already prepared tea. “Thank you my friend.” Alastor told her as she took her own seat.

“So why’d you come? I know I haven’t been able to hang out as much I’ve been really backed up with work.” Rosie told him but he waved her off. “It’s not a problem Rosie, you do what you need.” Alastor replied making her smile.

“Thanks Al, so what have you been up to?” Rosie asked him, taking a drink of her tea. “Oh nothing important just the usual, dealing with His Majesty, Susan, Charlie back at the hotel, all the works.” Alastor smiled as he took a drink of his own tea and let out pleased radio static.

“This is different my dear, new brand?” Alastor asked her, looking down at the beverage. “Oh yes it’s one of my favorites since the local tea shop owner released it, isn’t it just divine?” Rosie informed him, excitement lacing her voice.

“It is.” Alastor replied, taking another sip of the tea. They sat in silence for a moment before Alastor spoke up once more. “So why have you been buried in so much work?” The deer asked her and she looked up, confused.

“Alastor were you not paying attention? I told you I have a lot of work after the last extermination silly.” Rosie playfully reprimanded him but he only shook his head.

“No my dear I mean you’ve always been so organized but lately you’ve been working late and constantly rushing around, what happened?” Alastor asked her, but little did she know he was up to something.

“Well you see I-“ Rosie’s sentence got cut short when she felt something poke her in the side and she jumped. She shifted her attention to where her side was poked and saw the slip of a black tendril.

Her gaze quickly shot up to Alastor who had also shifted and had his chin in one of his hands leaning on the table with a smug grin. “Al, don’t look at me like that.” Rosie stared at him but also keeping her attention fixated on the tendril beside her.

“Look at you like what my dear? I’m not doing anything~” Alastor replied but she didn’t miss the teasing tone in his voice or the way his fingers flexed. She was left pondering for a moment why his fingers did that when she felt it poke her again and she jumped.

Quickly she stood up and he did the same, practically mirroring her movements as she backed away from him and he followed her until she was backed into a wall.

“Cohome on now Ahal you don’t have to doho thihis!” Rosie tried protesting, holding her hands out. “Oh but you’re wrong my dear.” Alastor replied but then he shadow merged again leaving Rosie temporarily.

He then reappeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her and started dancing his fingers along her ribs “I do have to.” Alastor teased and she quickly burst out into bright laughter.

“Ahalahahastohor” Rosie yelped as he hit a particularly bad spot and a pleased hum of radio feedback escaped him. “Yes my dear?” Alastor teased, playing it casual as if he wasn’t currently tormenting his best friend.

“Whihihiy?!” She asked him through her giggles and he grinned wider, “Because my dear you need to relax! Take a break once in a while you’ve been working too hard!” Alastor replied, moving down to claw at her stomach making her jolt at the change in spots.

“Ihihi’ll take a breheheheak!” Rosie tried bargaining with him but he only hummed, “Mm I’m not sure I believe you.” Alastor told her, grinning at the way she shook her head.

“Seems I was correct then, I must convince you to take a break my dear, I could do this all night~” Alastor taunted and she shook her head with a snort. “Dohohohon’t!” Rosie protested and he laughed, “I’m afraid I can’t do that Rosie dear.” Alastor replied, switching to scribble over her sides.

“Ahahahal!” Rosie laughed as he switched, he was being mean today! “Yes my dear?” Alastor replied all nonchalantly, that prick. “Stahahahap!” Rosie protested again and he hummed thoughtfully, “Will you take a break?” He asked her and she only shook her head.

“Nohohohoho way I still hahahahave work to dohohoho!” Rosie told him and he shrugged, “Suit yourself.” Alastor told her and before she had a chance to question what that meant his hands jumped up to scratch and prod at her upper ribs.

Being so close to her worst spot she jumped and nearly elbowed him in the face behind her making his fingers slow some and distorted radio static come out of him that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“Ihihits not fuhuhunny.” Rosie snapped playfully at him, she wasn’t actually upset. “I beheheg to dihihiffer my friehehend.” Alastor replied before composing himself and going back to attacking her upper ribs, the sudden jump back into the playful torment making the Cannibal overlord jolt.

“AHAhahaHAL!!” Rosie yelped, laughing harder since Alastor was now so close to her death spot and the arrogant ass knew it too. “One last chance my dear, will you take a break?” Alastor asked her, voice now speaking directly in her ear making her shudder, his fingers had also stopped to allow her an opportunity to reply.

She took a deep breath and through some nervous giggles replied with, “No way.” Rosie replied and he raised a brow at her courage and even laughed some before shrugging. “Your funeral.” He told her before his hands wormed underneath her arms and started scratching at the space there.

She immediately jolted, pinning her arms to her sides effectively trapping Alastor’s hands. “AHAHAHAL WAHAHAHAIT!!” Rosie laughed hard as he kept it up, surprised radio crackles escaping him but he still didn’t let up.

“You know what to do to make this end dear~” Alastor taunted her and she shook her head, “IHIHI HAVE WOHOHORK TO DOHOHO!!” Rosie protested and he shook his head, “Not once I’m done with you.” Alastor replied with a cheery grin and she thought about it.

He wasn’t lying she knew how ruthless he could be and he was proving a mere fraction of it right now, would a small break be so bad?

“AHAHLRIGHT AHAHAHAL YOU WIHIHIN I’LL TAHAHAHAKE A BREHEHEAK!” Rosie informed him and just to be a little prick he replied with, “Sorry what was that?” Alastor grinned, “AHAHAHAHAL!!” Rosie cackled and with a laugh he finally let up, carrying her over to a chair and setting her down but she immediately jumped back up.

Alastor grinned, quite impressed by how quickly she recovered, the red from her face had already dissipated and she had a confident look on her face, she is an overlord after all. “Ihihim going to gehehet you bahahack for thahahat!” Rosie challenged and he started backing away.

“Sorry Rosie dear but not today and you better take that break or else you’ll be seeing me again very soon.” Alastor warned and Rosie was confused by the ‘Not today’ part until she saw as he stepped into the shadows and merged, completely disappearing from her emporium.

“Wait that’s not-!” Rosie called but he was already gone, she huffed and crossed her arms remembering his earlier threat.

She might wanna go take that break now.

(Sorry this one is kinda long and sorry if I got it wrong in any way 😓 again let me know if I did but I hope you enjoyed!)

[dannythedanman]

A Little Hazey

Fandom: Wings of Fire

Words: 909

Characters: Original Female Character, Original Male Character

Relationships: Original Male Character & Original Female Character

CWs: Implied parent loss, implied infant death, mentions of infertility

Summary: A heartwarming story of how Rhodinite adopted Haze <3

A/N: If you are not prepared to wanna rip your heart out, don't read. If I felt this way while writing this, I don't wanna know what it's like to read it. (Yeah btw this story ain't beta read). Got inspired to male this after my #redkitespeeddate entry!!

CRACK!

Just then, the IceWing hatchling suddenly gained consciousness with a sudden jolt. His eyes snapped open and looked from side to side.

He had landed in a particularly thick bush, his eggshell spread across the branches with bits of it still sticking to his gooey self.

Although he was scared out of his mind, he stayed put. He didn't know why, but his primal instincts told him to, so he listened.

He listened to the sounds of grief-stricken roaring. To the sounds of wingbeats. To the sound of a hole being dug and the loud thump that came after it.

When silence finally settled over the land, it all set in.

The little hatchling was hungry, scared, and confused. He wasn't sure what was going on. All he knew was that he wanted his mama.

--●--

Rhodinite hummed happily as she plucked the wild blackberries from the prickly bush. With each pick, she tossed them into her claw made wicker basket.

This was one of the pink SkyWings' favorite pasttimes, it had always cheered her up when she got sad.

She fidgeted with her makeshift metal horn wrap as she scanned the bushes for more blackberries.

Just then, she heard a whail. The shrill sound plunged deep into her soul and immediately activated her fight or flight response.

She whipped her head around and barred her sharp teeth, scanning for any potential threats, but she found nothing.

The sound drilled on, peircing her eardrums. She stumbled forward, trying to locate the sounds origin. Its pained cries tortured her heart.

The search led her to a patch of shrubbery that surrounded a relatively tall mountain.

She peered into each bush until she had finally found the maker of the noise.

It was a tiny IceWing hatchling.

The sight shocked Rhodinite. She immediately scooped him up into her arms. Despite all the confusion, her motherly instincts took over, and she began to coo the crying infant.

"You're so young...where's your mama, honey?" She paced around the area as the hatchling began to cease its crying.

The hatching had begun to suck on her talons when she encountered a long path of dirt with a sign above it.

"  Snowflake and Her Daughter  "

        "  May They Rest Well  "

Rhodinite looked down pitifully at the small dragon. His ribs stuck out from his chest as he mindlessly continued to nibble at her.

"Poor baby..." She mumbled to herself.

She knew what she had to do.

--●--

Rhodinite had put the dragonet in the basket she way carrying the blackberries in when she flew back to her hut. When she had gone to pick the dragonet out of the basket, all that was left of the blackberries was a blue smear across his face.

She didn't mind, though. She had fallen in maternal love with him the moment she saw him.

Rhodinite had known from a very young age that she was incapable of having dragonets of her own. Although she pretended this fact didn't bother her, it was a constant dull pain in her heart.

She had planned to adopt a hatchling once she met her special someone, but she guessed the universe had other plans with this little fella!

When they arrived at home, Rhodinite immediately bathed him, much to his dismay. Nevertheless, it seems like he forgave her after it was all said and done.

After his bath, he toddled around the living room. Rhodinite took in his appearance. More specifically, how...unique he looked.

For the most part, he had the standard white and grey coat you'd expect an IceWing to have. But the strange thing was the amount of purple he had.

She knew that it wasn't uncommon for IceWings to have some purple in their gene pool, but the top of his body was a light purple with his wings being the darkest shade of purple she had ever seen on an IceWing!

The again, she hadn't seen many IceWings in her 30 years of life, so maybe this was normal?... it couldn't be.

It wasn't until she had hit a roadblock in her internal dialog that she realized the baby hadn't been given a name! This thought struck her body with paranoia. How could she name an IceWing when she was a SkyWing!?

She scooped up the currently unnamed hatchling as she wracked her brain for name ideas. He giggled as he leaned into her embrace.

"What about Zero? Like Sub-Zero? Would that be cool?" She murmured half to herself and half to "Zero."

Before she could even consider his response, she scrapped the name idea. "Too edgy."

She tapped her foreclaws on the wooden sidetable as she looked out her window.

The sun had begun to set, cascading an array of pinks, purples, and golds across the sky. She squinted her eyes at the setting sun, feeling bits of inspiration come forth through it.

She wanted his name to include a hint of SkyWing in there to show his new mother being a SkyWing, but didn't want to stray too far.

The baby cawed in her grasp as he noticed the new colors of the sky. Rhodinite let out a short nose laugh as her heart was filled with joy.

This moment was perfect. Her son was perfect. She wanted to give him a name that would make her think of this perfect moment every time she heard it.

The perfect name entered her brain.

"Haze..."

[anewstartfanfic]

To help you all with voting, here's a snippet of each:

Reader's wish:

“___________________ I know Ishmari told you to not change the past in anyway but there’s something that needs to be changed for a good cause,” she looked at Mr. Lore with confusion, “I know it sounds like you’re betraying Ishmari but these three things have to be done,”

“B-But I promised,”

“I know but please,” he took her hands into his and gave her a comforting smile, “I need you to do just three little things, please. I promise it’s not going to alter anything drastically and it’ll be a very subtle change. If Ishmari becomes angry, I’ll take the blame,”

“O-Okay,” he took out three letters and gave it to her.

“Make sure the Pirate King receives this letter, make sure Void receive this one, and make sure that you give this one to Whitebeard,” she nodded, “Hey, hey don’t look so scare, you know I wouldn’t do anything that would harm anyone or anything, right?” she nodded.

Calva Trials:

“Welcome to This Year’s Calva Royale!” a man appeared at the podium. Lesser hated this man more than anyone in this town and that was saying a lot. This was their fearless leader’s lackey, Sleaze, who was the embodiment of sleaze. He was a short, portly and greasy man. He wore a long coat and carried a walking stick that doubled as a weapon. He was clean-shaven with long, dirty blond hair, “As many of you know, today is the day that our contestants fight for a lot of great power and prestige in our fair city! Now for those who don’t know! Many will fight but only one winner in no holds bar a free for all!” The crowd went wild. Lesser kept her hand firmly on her weapon. This was the now or never and she knew there were many who would not hesitate. Sleaze continued, “For those of you who don’t know, this is our first day, the Weeding Day. Those who are worthy will make it to the Next until there’s only one left! Now fighters get into position, ready! One…two…COMMENCE!” Lesser immediately dodged a bullet coming at her. She threw one of her throwing knives into the man’s throat. She then maneuvered her way through the crowds and stabbed and gutted anyone who came within a foot radius of her, being careful to not hit any Outsider out of principle. The crowd went while cheering and shouting about killing. She could hear Dom laughing and saw a man being dragged away and swung into ground and people by the neck on her whip. Lesser was attacked from behind. She grabbed the woman by the hair, flipped her over before snapping her neck. She then saw a busty blonde with spiked brass knuckles beating a man with her bare fists. When she was done, jumped on another man and did the same. She then noticed a sniper from a vantage point getting ready to get her from behind. There was one thing Lesser didn’t like and that was anyone shooting from the back in a fight.

“BLONDIE DUCK!” The blonde ducked as the bullet whizzed past her head. The sniper turned only to be shot point blank by Lesser in the head.

“Thanks!” Suddenly Lesser was choked from behind and lifted up. She clawed and pried at the person’s hands and kicked. She saw someone coming up in front of her with a weapon getting ready to strike. The person’s grip suddenly loosened, dropping her. She gasped for air only for a moment, went after the fleeing would be assailant and slit their throat. She turned to see a large tall woman with auburn hair hacking her strangler with a meat cleaver before tossing him away. She looked at Lesser with a smile.

“Karma, cherie!” Soon she started to make work out of the rest of the fighters until she heard a loud horn. She and Dom immediately stopped. So did the blonde and redhead. Those who didn’t were immediately shot on sight. The entire arena was covered in blood and bodies, some dead, some barely clinging to life. Sleaze laughed.

“Beautiful! Just beautiful! It looks like we’re in for a beautiful week of carnage! Audience behold! Your seventy finalists of the Calva Royale!” the crowd went wild, “Contestants, clean up and prepare for tomorrow at dawn! Those who aren’t here at dawn forfeits! Any latecomers will be eliminated at the gates! Go home and have fun!” they were finally permitted to move and leave. Dom went to her and puts an arm around her shoulder.

“We made it!”

“Barely, I got sloppy,”

Mafia Game:

Vivi was heading to Ribbon class per usual. She was usually one of the first ones there and today was no exception. It was the summer session which was shorter but everyone still had a lot of fun. She got dressed and was about to leave when she felt someone in the room with her. She stopped and looked around. She immediately went looking to see if someone was in the room with her. She heard and saw nothing. Suddenly she was dropped down on. Vivi screamed but was immediately gagged. The figure took out a red marker and slashed her face arms and then hopped off her, took a water gun with fake blood and squirted all over her. Vivi fell dramatically and fell limp onto the floor. A little while later, the girls saw Vivi on the ground “Dead”. The girls all immediately panicked as she was one of the first victims.

“VIVI NOOOOOOOOOO!” __________________ said

“Don’t die on us Vivi!” said Kaya

“Girls…is that you?” said Vivi looking around dramatically

“Shhhhhh! Save your strength!” said Penny, attempting to help by rubbing the marker off her.

“Girls…I don’t have much time left…I’m sorry,”

“Vivi what are you saying?!” said _________________. Vivi raised her arm out to give off her final words:

“I shall be avenged!!! I SHALL BE AVENGED!!! I SUSPECT KID—blegh!” Vivi went limp. Plum held Vivi in her arms and looked at the sky.

“EUSTAAAAAAAAAAAS!!!!!!”

[wendigonamecaller]

Deadly Kiss.

Desc: Asher wasn't a bad person. She was quiet, well behaved, and had a gentle beauty about her that naturally made people flock to her. Asher was a good person, until she was given a reason not to be. 2002, she's only 22, never willingly been intimate with anyone, when police stumble upon her body in the Tennessee senator's home, a single gunshot wound to her head and a gun in her corpses grasp. She wakes up in hell, with a new appearance and powers, which present her with new opportunities, until she meets Angel Dust and becomes mixed up in Charlie Morningstar's hotel, unevitably becoming mixed up with Alastor.

Taglist: @sparrowrye

Pt. 13: Who Owns Who?

Alastor and Asher were taking their time walking back to the parlor, until a loud noise and the hotel rumbling startled them. "Close your eyes, my dear." Alastor instructed.

Asher closes her eyes and feels her surroundings shift a few times before Alastor's hand leaves her lower back. Asher opens her eyes and sees the hotel in the middle of chaos, loan sharks were attacking and Mimzy was cowering.

"Of course." Asher growled, severely pissed that Husker was right and still got his shit almost beat in by Alastor, which makes her lips lift slightly into a snarl.

All because of this pudgy showgirl that obviously wasn't in her prime anymore. Asher teleported in front of the bar, smiling sadly at Husker before reaching over and grabbing Mimzy by the neckline of her dress and hauling her over the bar top with only one arm as Alastor shifted forms and took off after the loan sharks.

"Give me one good reason not to fuck you up." Asher snarled, ears puffing out their fur and standing stiffly on the top of her head.

Mimzy doesn't get to answer as Midnight pulls Asher off of the much shorter girl. Mimzy sneaks her way out of the hotel towards Alastor who was now done fighting and was just relaxing in the view of his carnage. He makes Mimzy leave, before re-entering the now chaotic hotel.

-♡

"I work for her you can't just do that Light!" Midnight snapped, attempting and failing to tower over Asher as everyone watched.

Asher's ears twitched and her right eye turned gold. "She brought bullshit to this hotel, which may I remind you is my home right now, and you expect me not to get pissed? I've made better progress in under a month here than I've ever made anywhere else." Asher says, voice oddly calm.

Alastor tilts his head as he watches and Husker gets ready to grab Midnight and throw her out. "What, you wanna get a free ticket to heaven after killing more than you should've as a human? That's not how that fucking works Ash." Midnight growls, before regretting it as Asher's other eye glows gold and turquoise chains appear on Midnights neck and wrists, knocking her to her knees.

The entire hotel goes rigid as Asher yanks on the chains, forcing Midnight down fully. "I sincerely hope you didn't mean that as an insult, Midnight. Even so, if you ever say that again.." She begins, approaching Midnight slowly.

"I will bind your soul with a pact so that the only time you ever see the light of Hell is when I'm using you for background entertainment, otherwise I will rip you apart piece by bitter fucking piece and devour you like the meal you're running from becoming." Asher growls, her claws extending dangerously long and her demonic horns and wings making an appearance as her eyes turn from gold to red and her gray skin darkens to black.

"Yes ma'am, I understand." Midnight murmured, her fur fluffed out in alarm and fear.

"Excellent, you're dismissed." Asher says, going back to normal.

She turns around, finding the hotel beginning to relax. Angel Dust laughs, Charlie looks in shock, Vaggie's expression is dark but she can see the fear, Husker is utterly terrified by the display, Nifty looks like she's gushing and Alastor's eyes hold surprise briefly before going back to his chaos loving self.

Lucifer laughs before stepping forward. "Magnificent, a doe owning a fox soul, and owning it delightfully in a menacing way. My dear, are you an overlord?" Lucifer asked, standing awfully close to Asher.

"No, I am not. I had a chance to be, but I have better things to do than kill twenty four seven all because Vox is a hungry bastard." Asher says.

"Absolutely darling." Lucifer says, kissing Asher's knuckles.

Asher pulls her hand away, slyly wiping her hand on her shirt. Alastor prances into Asher's line of sight, his smile was strained and she could vaguely see how a vain in his temple was pulsing with an effort to not massacre the Devil.

He reached out and fixed the laples of the waist coat he'd let her wear to hide her tail. He dusts off her shoulder and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, a fleeting moment of intimacy passing between them and Asher feels her pulse speed up once more.