#hopefully next time i explore!

[for-quill-with-love]

I was having trouble sleeping again.

I was losing time, too. I would get lost in thoughts I couldn't grasp, staring at the wall or out the window until something pulled me out of it. Most of the time it was a buzz from my comm telling me I had another message to answer.

I was wallowing. I needed to shake things up. I couldn't remember how I managed to keep myself busy before.

I found myself searching for the candles I'd found, but I didn't have a way to light them. I hadn't collected any gravel or flint when I'd gone mining.

And they were the wrong color regardless. Even if I couldn't remember what color they should be.

I abandoned the candles where they sat, grabbing my tools and some food as I stumbled out the door. I wanted different colors of wood to work with, and I hadn't gone far yesterday.

It was time for me to do some proper exploration.

There was old growth birch, along with more of those little cocoons everywhere.

I found more weird fruit trees-- they were easy to spot among the trees, with different leaves standing out like a sore thumb.

Turns out I didn't have to figure this all out completely on my own. There was a section in my comm for identifying stuff. It pulled up my camera, and when I pointed it at something I didn't know the name of, it obliged.

There were figs and apples and oranges and pears, along with more kiwi, and a smaller bush that yielded 'lemons.' The lemon was especially bitter and sour. I spit it out the moment I'd tried it.

I also found a bush that dropped yellow seeds. My comm called it 'corn'.

They were edible, but hard. they would probably work something like wheat. The bread I had was nice, but it was bread. With all the new foods I was finding, surely I could make something with them.

I just had no idea how.

I also stumbled across a roofed forest.

Apart from a jungle, that meant I had access to all the different types of wood I cared about.

Acacia could go rot in the savanna where it belonged.

I found sugarcane, and a patch of alliums that turned out to be something else entirely. It looked like another 'wild' crop, called an onion.

A nibble told me it was edible, but it tasted somewhere between bitter and sour.

I put others in my inventory and set about collecting everything I could carry from the roofed forest.

The mushrooms would also be a great source of food, and now if I got hurt there would be the option of making suspicious stew for any injuries that were too bad to just let heal on their own.

And the berries! I found a new type of berry. My comm said it was a cranberry? It looked so similar to sweetberries that I thought they were right until i put one in my mouth.

It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Cranberries weren't as sweet as a sweetberry, but they were just as delicious once you got over the mouth-twisting sour burst.

There was a simple, giddy joy in trying to eat anything I found that seemed edible.

My pockets were getting full now, so I decided that was enough exploring for the day.

I took a swim in the ocean on my way back to grab handfuls of kelp and to clean the mud off of both me and my dress. I would be salty later but it was refreshing now.

It was time to start a farm. I would be out of bread sooner than later, and it would be good to have something to take care of.

And with crops came the ability to raise animals.

I was so close to having everything I would need.

[raiiny-bay]

some WIPs from the 80s AU i never finished

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Ah, coffee. The nectar of the gods. Both a blessing and a curse in one.

When it had first made it's way into Hell, Lucifer hadn't given it much thought. Tea had been the go-to wake up drink for thousands of years, and while a nice drink, it had never done much for him in the stimulant department. He had maintained for years that coffee would likely have the same lack of effect as tea.

Right up until he'd had his first cup of joe.

And hadn't he been wrong. He'd nearly been bouncing off the walls for hours, before spectacularly crashing later that day. It had taken some experimentation, but he had found that if he drank half a cup of coffee over an hour, followed by slowly consuming the rest over the course of the day, it gave him the boast he needed without sending into an energy-high followed by a massive energy-crash.

Oh, what he wouldn't have done to have coffee for those first couple of years after Charlie was born. Lilith may have become Charlie's main caretaker following her toddler years, but Lucifer had been her go-to parent for those first several years.

Easy baby or not, Charlie had never had much of a sleep schedule. It was something that had followed her into her adult years. Lucifer was fairly certain that was his fault, as that was a trait they had in common. Lilith had been an early to bed, early to rise sort of person. Worse, she was a morning person.

Since mastering the art of drinking coffee, Lucifer had joined the rank of coffee lovers and dependents, unable and/or unwilling to start his day without one. Some days, it really was the only thing that woke him up.

That particular morning was one such morning. He had been up most of the night, first at the ceremony and then taking hours to unwind enough to sleep. He had eventually fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, not that long before people would start waking up and starting their day.

Half asleep, despite the late morning hour, he wandered downstairs to the kitchen. As he passed the foyer, he thought he saw Angel and Cherri suspiciously hide their faces behind their hands as they whispered to each other. Charlie and Vaggie were huddled off to the side, the former making some rather extravagant hand motions at the latter. Husk might have looked like he had swallowed a lemon, which didn't look too far off from his usual disgruntled mood, so it it didn't set off any alarm bells.

If Lucifer had been more awake, he might have guessed what all the fuss was about. He might also have brewed his coffee and then immediately teleported back to his room to avoid any gossip about his (lack of) love life.

As it was, he wasn't a fully functioning fallen seraphim until the caffeine started to hit his blood stream and he missed all the cues.

Twenty minutes later, Lucifer walked back out of the kitchen with his prize in hand. The cup was already a third of the way drank, steam still rising up out of the cup to show it was pipping hot. Caffeine not having had remotely enough time to work it's magic, Lucifer proceeded to make his first mistake of the day.

He walked into the main-lobby-slash-living-room.

Charlie immediately tuned into his presence the moment he walked into the room, which should have been a clue she was on the look out for him. Her vaguely nervous expression should have been another one.

Lucifer, in his sleepy state, only picked up on the latter one. "Morning, Char-Char." He wrapped his hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into his fingers. "Everything alright?"

Charlie took a deep breathe, rubbing at the back of her head. "Well, dad, we, um..." She trailed off, her gaze flinting over towards her girlfriend, who held both of her thumbs up in encouragement. Charlie smiled, but the quality of it fell between strained and for real, which only served to alarm Lucifer even more. Pressing her hands together, she pointed both of her pointer fingers at him. "We wanted to congratulate you."

"Congratulate me? On what?" Lucifer had the nagging feeling he was forgetting something. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he just wasn't a morning person. Getting the strong impression he was going to want to be awake as possible for this conversation, he proceeded to make his second mistake of the morning.

He went to take another gulp of coffee, just as Charlie said, "Well, on your new relationship with Alastor!"

Lucifer choked, the coffee going down the wrong pipe, something he had always felt was a bit unfair considering he was never quite certain if seraphim had lungs. It somehow still never stopped him from nearly choking when someone said something so outlandish it was outright ludicrous. Startled, Charlie darted forward, hand patting his back as he attempted to wheeze and hack up a possibly non-existent lung.

When he felt capable of talking without immediately coughing, he managed a half strangled, "What... relationship?"

Charlie exchanged another look with Vaggie. She continued to rub his back as she explained, "Well, we saw the videos of your dancing with Alastor and thought..."

The blonde king placed his head in his hand, suddenly understanding the, well, misunderstanding. He had known people were going to draw conclusions, but he hadn't thought about how it would look to Charlie. She had known they were going to the ceremony together, but he somehow doubt it had crossed her mind that it might go as far as an evening full of dancing.

"There's no relationship," he denied, running his hand down his face. "No relationship what-so-ever, really." He smiled at her reassuringly. "Alastor just likes to dance."

In a show of how comfortable Angel had gotten around him, the porn star shamelessly pointed out, "He wasn't the only one enjoying that dance." He leaned his chin on his hand, smile outright teasing and knowing. "Looked like you were going to do a bit more than dance for a moment there."

Lucifer's treacherous mind went back to the moment in question: the moment where all it would have taken was leaning just a little bit forward, and then they would have been ki--

He ruthlessly cut off the thought as he felt his cheeks heating up. He had resolutely refused to think of that moment since it had happened. He had refused to think about the fact that it had been haunting his dreams during what little sleep he had gotten. He was certainly not going to think about that moment in front of his daughter, her girlfriend, and her friends.

He cleared his throat, holding up one of his hands. "There is no relationship," he emphasized. He turned to Charlie, taking hold of one of her hands in his own. "I don't know if there will ever be anyone after your mother, but if there ever is, I promise I will tell you." He paused, adding, "Preferably before it winds up on a gossip rag."

She smiled at him, relief visible in her eyes. She patted the back of his hand with her free one. Supportive, she said, "I'm not going to say I wouldn't be thrilled if you and mom got back together, dad, but I just want you to be happy." Her mouth twisted at the corners. "Even if it's with Alastor."

Lucifer winced. "Not happening." He took back his hand, wrapping it back around his mug to give himself something to hold onto. Turning to the hotel's oldest resident, he asked, "How... bad is it?"

He didn't need to explain what 'it' was.

"Oh, it's bad." The spider sinner giggled as he held up his phone, a news headline in big bold letters read, THE KING OF HELL SHACKING IT UP WITH THE RADIO DEMON? "It's been all 666 News would talk about last night."

Lucifer resisted the urge to put his face back in his hand or retreat back up into his room and not come out for the next century. It could really go either way, at that point.

A touch of sympathy could be found in Angel's eyes as he said, voice as close to reassuring as the blonde had ever heard it, "Aw, don't worry, your Majesty. I'm sure it'll blow over as soon as the next scandal pops up."

Which, knowing Hell, wouldn't be that long.

Lucifer internally groaned. It wouldn't be soon enough, if one were to ask him. He almost glanced up at the ceiling, towards the direction of Alastor's radio station and suite. He wondered if the Overlord had seen the news and how he was responding to it.

Knowing him, he was likely thinking of how to spin all of this in his favor, if he decided to entertain it at all.

Unwilling to let the news or thoughts of a certain radio demon sour his morning any further than they already had, Lucifer scrambled to change the subject. "So, how are things going with the trust exercises?" He didn't have to try hard to look interested in his daughter's latest plans, although he mentally apologized that he was mostly asking to distract her from his own issues. "Thought of any new ones?"

Charlie, bless her, was all too happy to talk about her latest plans. Snagging his arm, she tugged him over to a corkboard she had set up. Various hand drawn notes and print outs were pinned to the board. Some had parts of them crossed out, while a few had stars on them. "I think I have some new ideas!" She pointed to the ones with the stars on them. "I was thinking maybe we could try this one out at the next meeting." There was nothing forced about this smile when she turned it on him. "What do you think?"

Happy to have something else to think about and even more happy to have her asking for his impute on anything, he squinted at the page she was pointing to. On it, it gave detailed instructions about different team building exercises and how to carry them out. The one in particular that she was pointing to was called, 'Human Knot.'

It appeared to be fairly simple. A group of people stood around in a circle and got themselves 'tangled up' by taking the hands of two other people. The goal of the exercise was for the group to untangle themselves without letting go of anyone's hands. It sounded like it might be a fun activity, if everyone was willing to get touchy-feely with everyone.

Alastor would never agree to participate in this. Lucifer wasn't certain he would enjoy participating in this, either. The thought of touching so many people who weren't family or close friends was overwhelming. At least, while sober. It gave him too many Twister vibes and the less he thought about that game the better.

There was a reason it was Asmodeus' favorite 'family' game.

Scurrying out of the wood work, Niffty appeared with a needle the length of her head. Speared through on the end of it was a cockroach the size of her hand. Disturbingly enough, it was still twitching. She peered up at the board, her eye lighting up at the details of the trust exercise. "Ooooo! That one looks fun." She peered up at Lucifer in that way she did that always set his hackles up. "I can hold hands with all the bad boys in the room..."

Lucifer laughed nervously as she scurried off as quickly as she had appeared. Something of his true feelings must have shown on his face, because Charlie's smile was beginning to slip. Which was just not allowed. "It's fine," he rushed to reassure her. "I'm just worried not everyone will want to participate, because of the level of touching." Desperate to save her good mood, Lucifer pointed to the option underneath the one she had showed him. "What about this one?"

She leaned in, reading the name. "Two Truths and a Lie?" It wasn't one she had starred and her tone was a bit dubious.

Angel appeared at their side. He stabbed the board with a finger. "Now there's a fun game, especially if you turn it into a drinking game." He waggled his eyebrows at them, suggestively.

Vaggie rolled her eyes. She came up behind the sinner, her hands on her hips. "We are not doing any drinking games during trust exercises."

The sinner pouted at her. "Is it your mission to suck all the joy out of my life?"

The former exterminator was unimpressed. Ignoring his theatrics, she asked, "What does the game entail?"

Angel's phone pinged with a notification. Loosing interest in the conversation in favor of whatever it was, he wandered off across the room to pull it up. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw the spider demon become caught up in what sounded like a video clip, he wasn't paying enough attention to make out the audio.

Feeling invested now that he was interested in potentially participating, Lucifer jumped in to answer. "Pretty much what it says on the tin. You tell two things that are true about yourself, along with a lie. The goal is for everyone to try and figure out which is the lie."

Charlie tilted her head to the side. "And this is supposed to... build trust?"

Vaggie seemed to be catching on. "It's a way to get to know people, babe. You get to tell people thinks about yourself, while they try to see how well they know you in return."

The host of the hotel didn't look convinced.

Lucifer cracked a grin. "Come on, it sounds like it'll be fun, Charlie." He lightly patted her on the arm. "We could try it out now and see what you think?"

She looked to him, and then to Vaggie, who nodded. Charlie mulled over it, before nodding her head. "Okay! If everyone wants to play it, then we can do it during the next trust exercise." Getting more excited the longer she thought about it, she hugged her father around the shoulders with a single arm pulling him in tight against her. With her other hand, she pointed a finger to the ceiling. "We could have a meeting right now, in fact!"

"Uh, I hate to interrupt," Angel cut in, coming back towards them. His tone more than anything, caught their attention. He sounded horrified. "You guys might want to see this."

Lucifer, Vaggie and Charlie shared a glance between themselves. They all gathered around Angel's phone, which he had turned around to face them. Tapping the play button to start the video, a familiar voice came out of the teeny speakers.

"Breaking news: A new video was dropped today showing not everyone played an equal role in the fight on Extermination Day." Katie Killjoy's face was replaced by an aerial shot of the roof of the Hazbin Hotel. In the background, angels flooded the skies, hinting as to what day the video had been recorded. The recording itself appeared to be mid fight between what was quickly identified to be Adam and Alastor. Lucifer's eyes widened, his stomach dropping as he realized that despite having taking on the most powerful angel to visit Hell after Lucifer, Alastor didn't have any angelic weapons on him.

Why? Why would he be so reckless. Lucifer had seen the shield wielding angelic spears, so why didn't Alastor have any?

Holy shit, he had actually taken him on with just his own shadows.

The recording fizzled, temporarily cutting off as Alastor throwing Adam into the old hotel sign. Lucifer's blood turned cold as it phased back in, just in time for Adam's guitar to come down and slice effortlessly through Alastor's staff. The radio host looked confused for a moment, before realizing the extent of the damage. This much Lucifer had already deduced from seeing Alastor's broken staff weeks ago and while he had been suspicious that more had happened, it was still difficult to watch what happened next.

"It seems Hell's resident old timer bit off more than he could chew," Katie was narrating as Adam swung his guitar - made of pure angelic grace - straight across Alastor's chest, sending the sinner soaring across the roof. His momentum was only stopped as he hit the barrier. The sinner crumpled to the roof, blood splattering the ground beside him, damning evidence that had disappeared when the hotel had been nearly destroyed in Adam's attack not that long afterwards.

Tiny hands and feet scrambled up Lucifer's back, signaling Niffty's return. She must have been drawn back by the commotion. Normally, he would have been extremely uncomfortable with being used as a living cat tree for her to climb, but in this instance he was too absorbed by video to pay her much attention. A part of him also knew that she and Alastor was close, whatever their relationship was with each other. It would have been more surprising if she hadn't shown up.

"He needed so many stiches after that." Niffty made a low, mournful noise at the sight that greeted her on the phone's screen. "He was in so much pain..."

Lucifer's whole body froze up. Alastor had needed stiches?

As if coming unfrozen, Charlie gasped in horror, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Vaggie's expression was grim as she placed a hand on her elbow. As angels who had seen the kind of damage angelic grace could do to sinners, rare that such a weapon was employed, Lucifer and Vaggie both knew that such a wound should have been fatal.

Lucifer had thought that Alastor's staff had taken the brunt of the attack. That maybe he had only been grazed, at worse. That should have been the extent of the damage.

It had never occurred to him that Alastor might have taken the attack full on.

It was baffling that Alastor was still alive.

The video didn't come with audio, so they couldn't hear what Alastor was saying as he did the first smart thing he had done since he decided to take on Adam without a useful weapon and retreated. "And there you have it everyone," Katie was saying, her tone and smile gleeful as she soaked in the suffering of someone who had quite the distance to fall. "The supposedly big bad Radio Demon running away like a with his teeny, tiny, fluffy little tail between his legs like the fucking coward that he is."

The screen pulled away to show her cohost, Tom Trench. "Do you think he ran off to wherever he was hiding for seven years?"

"Who gives a shit, Tom." Katie turned her head in such a way that it appeared to break her neck. "He's a washed up has-been who should have stayed away--"

The phone disappeared, Charlie having darted forward and hit the pause button. Her hands hid the screen from view.

For a long moment, the present group blankly stared off into the middle distance, trying to digest what they had just seen. Each of their faces ranged from out right horrified (Charlie's) to grim (Vaggie's and Husk's) to some level of worried (Angel's). All of them were thinking the same thing: about Alastor's disappearance for several days as they rebuilt the hotel and the varying degrees of relief everyone had felt when he'd reappeared, seemingly just fine save his missing staff.

No one had questioned why he'd disappeared.

No one had followed up to make certain he wasn't hiding a wound and potentially actively dying.

But now they all knew. There was no unseeing this, just as there had been no unseeing Sir Pentious' last moments as Adam vaporized him like he was nothing.

Lucifer, personally, was kicking himself for not checking on the wound when he had Alastor trapped. He had known something was potentially wrong - had seen the evidence in the damage to the microphone - and yet he had allowed Alastor to side track him like a willfully blind fool dancing to the piper's tune.

Lucifer found himself moving before he'd even made the conscious decision to do so. He plucked Niffty off his back, the little maid making no protest as she was lightly placed down on the ground. His cup of coffee went onto the coffee table. The moment his hands were free, he was preparing to open a portal to Alastor's room.

"Dad?" Charlie's voice calling out to him made him pause.

He turned to her, placing a hand on her other elbow. "I'm just going to check on him."

She placed her own hand over his, squeezing it as she bit her lip. "Dad, you saw how badly he was hurt." Guilt was visibly crashing down over her as her eyes welling up with tears. "I knew something was wrong. Why didn't I check to see if he was okay?" Vaggie stepped in and hugged her as Lucifer squeezed her arm.

"He clearly didn't want any of us to know he was hurt." He debated saying anything about the blood drinking. Alastor had looked tremendously better afterwards and it might go a long way to easing some of her worries about how injured the sinner was. He just didn't know how to explain how they had gotten to that part.

He decided to settle for a partial truth. "He didn't tell me how hurt he was, but he's already let me help him some." Charlie sniffled, turning hopeful eyes on him. "If I had to guess, I'd say the wound is all healed up." He smiled at her reassuringly. "I'll see if I can get him to let me check to make certain everything is better, okay?"

She nodded, wiping at a tear. "Just, make certain he's okay." She moaned, low and wounded. "I can't lose him too, dad."

Lucifer looked to Vaggie, who nodded back to him. "I got her, sir."

Lucifer stepped back. His instinct to stay and comfort his offspring at war with his desire to make certain Alastor was okay. The only reason he was going to be able to do so was because Vaggie had her and he was likely the only person who could make certain their resident radio host wasn't being eaten up from the inside out by any residual grace Adam might have left behind.

A quick burst of magic opened a portal directly into Alastor's room. He stepped through without waiting to see if Alastor might need any privacy, not wanting the sinner to potentially turn him away. He was going to get that idiot into letting him inspect that wound once and for all, even if he had to sit on him to do it.

Curse Alastor and his stupid pride for not having said anything! He could have put in it the favors with his microphone, for crying out loud.

"Alastor!" His voice echoed through the room, disappearing off into the bayou. Lucifer scoured the sinner's room from top to bottom. He didn't see him in his bed, nor at the fireplace, nor at his little table in the bayou. He raised his voice to as loud as he could make it without causing any damage. "Come out, you asshole, before I hunt you down!"

No response.

There was a possibility he was out in the bayou, as there was no way of being sure how far out it extended without going out into it. He had one foot out on the grass, when the old fashioned radio on Alastor's bookshelf crackled to life.

"Greetings, sinners! It's come to my attention that there seems to be some questions about my health recently."

Lucifer threw himself across the room, grabbing hold of the radio. His head darted up as he stared up at the ceiling. He could teleport himself into the station, but that risked interrupting the Radio Demon's broadcast. Until he knew what exactly the sinner was planning, he didn't want to spook him.

It didn't mean he couldn't keep an eye on him, though.

He crossed the room in seconds, throwing open a window. Looking up, he could see the On Air sign was lit, indicating that Alastor was indeed in his radio tower. Launched himself out of the window, Lucifer took flight as Alastor said through the radio, "Never fear, dear listeners, because nothing as simple as a silly angel could take out the Radio Demon."

Lucifer snorted, coming up to hover in full view of studio. 'Silly angel,' he calls an actual archangel that had destroyed the hotel and by all rights should have killed him.

Inside the studio, Alastor spotted him. The sinner's eyes were aglow, pupils turned to dials. He had grown as large as the room would allow him to get without taking the roof off, antlers extended out like fingers reaching out to the sides of the room. A bright green 'x' marked the spot on his forehead. As his eyes fell on the little king, a streak of black drool dribbled down his chin as his smile elongated far beyond what should have been possible for his face. His fingers twitched and curled, a single finger pointing to the other side of the tower. "In fact, I think a certain voyeur needs a little reminder as to why he should mind his own business."

Lucifer frowned, not understanding what Alastor planned to do at first. It was only because he had come out the side of the hotel, furthest from his own room, that he isn't hit by the powerful wave of radio waves bursting forth from the tower. Startled, he jerked out of the way, spinning around mid-air to see where they were going.

He watched, unsurprised to see them heading for VoxTek. It figured that Vox was behind the video. He'd had footage of other parts of the fight, it shouldn't be surprising he had been spying on Alastor when Adam had come a calling. When he didn't see another wave leave the tower, he chanced moving around the obstruction the tower made of the view to better see what effect that wave was going to have.

It was difficult to see from that distance, but he could just make out the wave hitting the satellite. Could see the plum of smoke rising up as the machinery went dead. The satellite was still standing, but it likely wasn't operational. At least, not for the moment.

He raised an eyebrow at the redhead through the window. Petty, much?

Depending on how terrible the Alastor's eyesight was - deer had notoriously bad eyesight- it was entirely possible he couldn't see the damage he had inflicted himself. Regardless of his poor eyesight, he somehow knew anyway, perhaps having that much confidence in his attack. Alastor's grin was pleased as a cat having caught a canary. "Friendly reminder that I won't be as lenient next time."

The radio in Lucifer's arms cut off with a crackle as Alastor reached out and flicked a switch on his board. The two stared at each other, waiting to see what the other planned to do next.

When Alastor didn't move other than to settle back down into his more default appearance, Lucifer decided to come to him. He disappeared in a swirl of magic, reappearing a moment later in the studio. He fully materialized back into being behind the redhead.

Alastor didn't turn around, continuing his work as if he didn't have his back to someone who could easily kill him with a flick of the wrist. Lucifer took the time to study him more in depth than he had in the previous months. The sinner didn't move like he was in pain. Then again, he never had. The only indication he had ever given that something was off was when he never called on his microphone in the months before he got Lucifer to repair it.

There was nothing to tell he had ever taken a hit of pure angelic grace to the chest. Lucifer didn't feel anything coming off him either.

A visual inspection wasn't going to be enough, when it came to this kind of wound. If he was to do a proper inspection, he was going to have to talk Alastor into letting him touch him. It was almost a shame he hadn't known when he was healing Alastor's ribs and side two nights ago. He could have checked then and this whole conversation could have been avoided.

The silence extended. Lucifer was suspicious Alastor knew why he was here and was planning to wait him out. The little king fiddled with the radio's dials, suddenly glad he had decided to grab it, if only to give him something to do with his hands. One of them was going to have to kick start this conversation. It might as well be him. "You didn't say Adam got you in the chest."

The sinner made that little 'hm' sound he liked to make. It could have been in response to what the blonde had said. It could have just been in response to something Alastor was seeing on his equipment.

"Angelic grace is bad for sinners, you know." Lucifer's hold on the radio tightened, not quite certain if he was being ignored or not. "It can grow like a cancer until it burns you up from the inside out." He leaned from foot to foot, feeling more twitchy the longer Alastor didn't speak to him. He stopped the moment he noticed he was doing it. "You should have said something."

Whatever Alastor was looking for, he seemed to find for he nodded at his equipment in satisfaction. He finally rose up off his settee, the movement as fluid as ever. "There was nothing to worry about." He stepped around the furniture, waving off the concern as if batting away a fly. "I had it handled."

"'Handled'?" Lucifer's eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Handled how, exactly? By having Niffty sew you up?" His grip tightened on the radio, enough to make it give a little creak of protest, but not enough to truly threaten to break it. "You couldn't have known I was going to offer my blood. And just because it healed the physical wound that doesn't mean it cleared the grace."

Alastor's eyes zeroed in on his radio in Lucifer's hands. The thinning of his lips indicated he wasn't thrilled with the idea of his property coming to damage. "What exactly do you propose to do?" He reached out to reclaim the radio.

Lucifer took a step back, keeping himself and the radio out of arms reach. "Let me check the wound."

The sinner's fingers twitched before curling in. He let the hand drop. "What does that entail?" He followed after the blonde, first one step and then another, meeting each retreat with an advance.

Lucifer continued to back away until his back hit the window. On reflex, he glanced behind him. All that stood between himself and a drop was a thick panel of glass.

Alastor took advantage of his distraction to steal back his radio. "Out with it. You're too twitchy for this to be a simple look over."

The blonde flexed his hands, now empty of anything to use for stress relief. "No, I'd have to touch your bare skin to be sure there's nothing there."

The hand not holding the radio came up, all four finger splaying out as Alastor laughed out a short, sharp, "Ha!" He wagged a single finger of the same hand at the seraphim. "Not going to happen!"

Before Lucifer could protest or attempt to make his case, Alastor disappeared into his shadows. He scurried past him, slipping down the trap door and out of the studio.

Lucifer stared at where the redhead had just been, gapping. That... That idiot! Didn't he hear the part where he could be infected with the equivalent of a deadly poison that could be eating him up from the inside out?

Growling, Lucifer opened a portal back down into Alastor's room. If Alastor wanted to see who was more stubborn, the hundred-something year old sinner or the first sinner himself, Lucifer was more than up for the challenge. Stepping through, he found Alastor over by his book shelf, returning the radio back to it's prior resting place.

Frustrated, Lucifer marched over to him, seriously considering throwing up a barrier around the room to keep Alastor from running away again. "Hey! I wasn't done with you, mister!"

Alastor finished setting the radio to his preference, and then turned around to meet him head on. "I hardly see how we have anything more to talk about." He placed his hands behind his back, the very picture of unconcerned. "I've already declined your offer."

Lucifer threw his hands up. "Aren't you worried? This isn't a game! This could be your life on the line!"

Alastor leaned in to his personal space, his lips starting to twist into a smug, cat like grin. "Tell me, sire, why are you so worried?"

"Hello? Really?" Lucifer crossed his arms, defensive. "Have I not said that if Charlie cares than I care?" He sighed, looking away and begrudgingly adding, "She was really upset when you went missing and it would break her heart if something happened to you."

Alastor considered him for a long moment. Suddenly, a very loud buzzer tore through the air, causing the blonde to jump. "Hm, no, I think not." He flicked at one of the Lucifer's blonde flyways with a single finger, eyeing him up and down as the shorter of the two glared at him. "You know, I could almost believe that was the reason." He leaned away, tapping his chin. "But we both know that's not the whole truth."

He stepped around him, walking away and putting some distance between them. "I propose a little deal."

Lucifer scoffed, defense turning to irritation. He was starting to regret attempting to help this asshole. "You can't be serious."

Coming to a stop half way across the room, Alastor came to a halt. "Oh, come now, sire. Not that kind of deal." He spun around, one heel coming together to click against the other. One hand settled against the small of his back, while his staff appeared in the other. He used it to point at his uninvited guest. "If you tell me the real reason you care so much and I like the answer, I'll let you see for yourself that I'm perfectly fine."

He almost couldn't believe his ears. Lucifer stared at him, incredulous. "Are you actually holding your life hostage over this??"

Alastor twirled his staff, a mock considering look on his face. He shrugged, far too nonchalant for the subject. "Hm, I guess I am."

Lucifer could feel his self control fraying at the edges. He had clearly been far too lenient with this sinner if Alastor wasn't even remotely taking him seriously. He held up his hand, palm facing the redhead. It would be easy to just knock him right off his feet with a small burst of power and hold him in place while he just checked to see if he wasn't actively dying. He really ought to. It might just remind this arrogant little sinner who was at the top of the food chain and who was at the bottom between the two of them.

Alastor stared at him down, patiently waiting him out.

After several long moments of arguing with himself, Lucifer lowered his hand. He hissed, as much at himself as it was at Alastor. He couldn't do this by force, not because he wasn't incapable of doing so, but because he was trying to get Alastor to agree of his own free will. "Fine!" He stalked over to the deer demon, coming to a stop just before actually touching him. Pointing his finger up at Alastor's chin, he confessed, "Fine, I'm worried because I'm a fool and I actually care about you! I would be genuinely upset if something happened to you, are you happy??" He pointed at the bed behind the redhead, nearly breathing fire as he growled, "Now sit down and let me help you."

Alastor nodded at him. "There we go, your Majesty. Isn't it better to tell the truth?"

"Sit!" Lucifer pointed at the bed, this time with more emphasis, his tone making it abundantly clear he was not going to repeat himself again.

The redhead proceeded to show that he had some self preservation instincts in that stubborn head of his, because he didn't press Lucifer's buttons again. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs and settling his hands on his knees, body language just as carefree as ever. "Would any skin do?" He held up his hand, indicating he was willing to take his glove off to give him access to bare skin.

Lucifer took a series of deep, calming breaths. He was tempted to just smother the redhead, but since that would defeat the purpose of preserving his life, the blonde put the idea on the back burner to come back to later. It would make for entertaining fodder to think about while he was trying to fall asleep that night.

When he could speak without possibly setting something on fire, he shook his head. "No, I need access to the wound." He let some of his empathy for Alastor's dislike for touch seep into his voice as he said, honestly, "Sorry. I'll try to make it quick."

Alastor paused, a quick flash of trepidation appearing across his face and then disappearing just as quickly. His smile took on more of a mask like quality, as he reached up and began to undo his tie. He set it down beside himself, the protection gem Lucifer had gifted him resting up against his thigh.

His fingers didn't shake, didn't tremble in the slightest as he unclasped his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, but his discomfort was visible in every line of his body.

Button by button, he revealed first his neck and then his chest. A thin layer of - soft, Lucifer' treacherous mind reminded him - brown fur lined his shoulders, disappearing under his shirt. A lighter, fluffier bout of fur ran down his chest, fluffing up as it was freed from the restraint of Alastor's shirt. A nasty, ragged scar peaked out the bottom of the poof of fur, running along his side. Partially hidden, the scar appeared to run from Alastor's left collar bone to the last of his right set of ribs.

How he was still alive continued to baffle Lucifer, no matter how thankful he was. He held up his hands. "Can I approach you?"

Alastor gave him the stink eye, ear twitching. He almost looked insulted. "By all means, sire. Be my guest." His fingers gripped the sides of his shirt just a little too tightly, belying his words with his true feelings. When he released the fabric, it was almost like he was prying his own hands free. He settled his hands in his lap, back ramrod straight.

Lucifer moved carefully, but not too slowly. He knew Alastor wouldn't spook. He wasn't actually a wild animal. It was still polite to approach with caution, in case he needed to stop at the drop of the hat. The redhead watched him approach like a hawk, ear twitching with every noise Lucifer made.

Lucifer came to stand in front of him, close, but not quite allowing their knees to touch. He reached out, finger ghosting over what he could see of the scar. It must have been painful. The skin over the collar bone alone was thin. The length of the gouge threatened quite a few ribs. He couldn't tell how deep it had gone, but it had not healed prettily.

He pressed the tips of his fingers to the skin near the base of Alastor's ribs, the fur just as soft as it had been on his arms. Lucifer forced himself to focus, to ignore this tidbit of information and store it in the same box he kept all the other things he was slowly learning about the redhead's body, but wasn't allowed to think about. He closed his eyes, reaching out his senses.

Alastor felt human, his sins dripping like fresh blood from his soul. Lucifer could feel the way the power of his soul mingled with the darkness of his abilities. The wound itself had indeed completely healed, although traces of its damage ran deep. Several bones had been cleaved straight through, the organs beneath clipped. Alastor had only survived as long as he had because of his particular brand of magic being uniquely adept at keeping things sewed into place and Niffty was apparently very good with a needle. Without both, he would have bleed to death for sure.

Most importantly, though, to his vast relief, Lucifer could find no trace of Adam's grace anywhere within the sinner's body. Despite the obvious damage it had made, somehow, nothing lingered behind.

Alastor caught his wrist, his grip tight enough it might have bruised another sinner. Lucifer's eyes snapped open. He allowed Alastor to pull his hand away. He didn't try to free himself when the redhead didn't immediately let him go.

"Well, sire?" Alastor looked up, his sitting down giving Lucifer the height on him for a change. "Am I going to live?" This part was said with a degree of teasing, as if to say, see, I told you so.

The fallen angel reminded himself, not for the first time, that, no, he did not, in fact, want to strangle this guy. He smirked down his nose at the redhead, enjoying the fact that he could do so for a change. "Unfortunately." He ignored the way Alastor smiled at him, as if he knew how much he was enjoying being taller for a change. "You're either secretly an angel or just one lucky asshole. No grace leftover whatsoever."

Alastor threw back his head and laughed. "As you can see, your Majesty," he said with no small amount of mirth, "I am certainly no angel."

Lucifer snorted. The Radio Demon was a sinner, through and through, and quite happy with that fact. Some humans never got over their lot in the afterlife, but Alastor had embraced it with eyes wide open.

He watched the redhead loosen his grip on his wrist, his brain promptly short circuiting as Alastor twisted their hands around until he could intertwine their fingers. "Um."

"Since his Majesty has taken such good care of me..." Alastor reached out with his free hand, snaking it up and around Lucifer's waist. The blonde might have squeaked when he was pulled forward, legs automatically parting to stand on either side of the redhead's. He only stopped when his knees hit the side of the mattress. It also brought their faces within inches of each other. Alastor's voice was noticeably deeper as he offered, "I think this deserves it's own reward."

Eloquently, Lucifer managed, "Um?"

"Your reward is: I'll let you in on a little secret." Amused with his response, Alastor stared up at him, eyes half-lidded as he stated, "I also seem to care about you, Lucifer Morningstar."

Lucifer froze, too stunned to speak. He felt like he had utterly and completely lost the script and had no idea where this was going. With anyone else, he might have been able to take that statement at face value, but Alastor had long since taught him that no weakness was too small for the redhead to exploit. Sputtering, he asked, "What?"

"Ah-ah, I know you heard me." Alastor's thumb rubbed along the edge of the top of Lucifer's pants, a simple back and forth motion the blonde was suddenly all too hyper aware of. Goosebumps broke out along the alabaster skin under the fabric. "No need for repeats just yet."

Lucifer wanted to pull away so he could clear his mind and think.

He wanted to lean in and soak up every bit of attention Alastor was willing to give him.

He swallowed. "But... but you don't even like me?" He meant it to be a statement, but it came out too much of a question. He knew he hadn't read the sinner wrong, and yet, here they were, very much off script for their usual back and forth. To say he was confused would be an understatement.

"Come now, your Majesty." Alastor narrowed his eyes, giving the blonde a gentle shake. "I think I know my own heart."

Lucifer didn't dare to breathe. "And what does your heart say?"

"That I can't think of anyone who suits me better than you do." Alastor leaned ever so slightly closer, their noses brushing as he brought their faces as close as they had been just before Mimsy had interrupted them. As close as they had been during their dance during Octavia's coming of age ceremony. "What does his Majesty's heart say?"

"Are you asking if we can get together?" Lucifer was getting too many mixed signals. He had to know what Alastor really wanted. "Romantically?"

"And if I am? Would you 'get together with me', sire?" Alastor's expression was surprisingly patient, as if he had all the time in the world to devote to sorting this out. "Romantically?"

Lucifer thought about all the times Alastor had tried to usurp his place at his own daughter's side. Thought about all the terrible, hurtful things he had said before and after Lucifer moved in. Thought of all the ways they fought and clashed with each other.

He also thought about how Alastor had helped him down from his panic attack. How it had felt to have someone come to his defense, even if he hadn't needed it. How it felt when they danced, both in private and in public. How the weight of his body had felt laying on top of his own.

He would be completely crazy to agree to this, but there was only one answer he could give.

"Yes."

Alastor's smile turned triumphant, but not mocking. "Fabulous!" He stood abruptly, knocking Lucifer off balance. The only thing that kept the little king from falling over backwards was the redhead's arm coming up around his shoulders. Lucifer's face briefly brushed a chest full of downy fur as he was spun around. The back of his knees barely had time to brush the mattress as Alastor deposited him down onto the side of the bed where he had been sitting second beforehand.

Lucifer stared blankly ahead of himself, not certain what had just happened. Not certain what was happening.

Alastor released him, stepping back and letting go of him completely. Lucifer's heart dropped down to his feet, for a split second thinking that he had gotten this wrong. That he had misread the situation. That this was just another game--

A hand pressed against his cheek, snapping him out of his spiral. When Lucifer looked up at him, he noted that the redhead had merely been buttoning up his shirt.

Alastor ran a thumb over his cheekbone, and then gave him a pat. "Now, I believe there's at least one person downstairs who would like to hear I've received a clear bill of health. Shall we go reassure her?" That patient expression was still firmly in place, his gift for reading people allowing him to pick up nearly immediately that Lucifer's mind set had begun to go downhill.

Lucifer still wasn't sure he understood what had just transpired between them. He needed Alastor to just be clear with him. "Wait, what about--?"

Alastor was already spinning around on his heel, slipping his arms into his coat and heading for the door. Over his shoulder, he called, "Come along, sire." He paused near the door, turning just enough to look back at Lucifer, who was still rooted to the spot on his bed. The sinner held out a hand, palm up in invitation. "I did say us, did I not? I believe we might have an announcement to make, do we not?"

A wave of relief washed over Lucifer. "You..." He jumped up from his seat, not quite running, but certainly not simply walking across the room to take hold of the offered hand before the offer was retracted. The leather of the glove was smooth and cold to the touch as he wrapped his hand around it. Lucifer stared down at their joined hands, marveling at the fact that he was being allowed to do so. He looked up at Alastor. "You want to go public? Just like that?"

He somehow would have thought Alastor would have just let people come to their own conclusions. He seemed the type to enjoy the attention of everyone's speculations.

Alastor pressed his free hand to his chest. "Sire!" His tone was scandalized, although his eyes were squinted with mirth. "Did you intend for me to be your dirty little secret?"

"No!" Lucifer flushed, trying to pull his hand back, only to be denied. He admittedly wasn't trying to free himself very hard. "I just..." He frowned, genuinely concerned. "It's so early and... new." He stared down at their hands, squeezing lightly. "Literally just now, new."

Alastor fell silent. He didn't appear to be offended by the protest. "Very well, your Majesty," he conceded. He released Lucifer's hand, bemused by his king's look of mourning at the loss of contact. "We will keep this between ourselves, although I doubt anyone is going to be fooled."

Lucifer decided if they were really going to start dating or whatever they were doing, they were going to nip that in the bud. Hands on his hips, he pointed out, "Well, they certainly might if you keep calling me that."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know... 'your majesty' and 'sire.'" Lucifer waved a hand in the space between them. "You can call me by my name. I know you know it." He smirked up at the sinner, regaining some of his confidence now that he was back on firmer ground and understood the situation better. "You said it not even ten minutes ago."

"Hm, Lu-ci-fer," Alastor said, drawing out the word as if he were tasting it. Trying out how he liked it. He pulled face. "I'll think about it."

"Ugh, why do you have to be so difficult?" Lucifer grumbled, half heartedly. He reminded himself that he had more or less done this to himself. He had accepted this idiot into his life with each inch of allowance he'd given and had now agreed to become romantically entangled with him on top of everything else.

"Ha!" Alastor opened his door. He held out his cane in front of him, indicating that Lucifer should go first. "We both know if I were agreeable all the time I would be boring." When the blonde cleared the door way, the redhead joined him in the hallway and shut the door behind himself. "And then where would we be?"

Boring was the last thing that came to mind if Lucifer were to describe Alastor. Alastor and boring were so utterly and completely not on speaking terms, they weren't even speaking the same language. He let the sinner set an easy pace as they made their way down the hallway to the main staircase. "Maybe." He was tempted to elbow the sinner, but just because he had been allowed some liberties, he wasn't certain how much (if anything) had changed on account of the change in their relationship status. He put it on a to-do list of things to discuss the next time they were alone. "But it would be nice if you were at least agreeable sometimes."

He wasn't actually expecting any sort of agreement on that part.

Sure enough. "It's too early in our relationship for me to start agreeing with everything you say, darling," Alastor snarked back without missing a beat. The ends of his lips quirked into something closer to a smirk.

Lucifer felt a shiver run up his spine at the pet name. No one had called him that in... well, he didn't even remember the last time Lilith had called him that. Called him anything other than his name, really. He had forgotten how nice something as simple as an endearment was.

Alastor's smile edged a little closer to a smirk until it was almost more smirk than smile at his reaction. Lucifer had the sudden foreboding feeling that the redhead was going to milk that new discovery for all it was worth.

He wasn't terribly worried about it.

As they made their way down the staircase, walking side by side, not touching, but standing a little closer to each other than, Lucifer felt like things might actually be turning around for the better. He was getting to repair his relationship with his daughter. He had a brand new romantic relationship to explore, something he hadn't had the chance to do in some ten thousand years. He was still having depression spells and there might be some backlash from Alastor's and Vox's ongoing sniping at each other, but it wasn't anything they couldn't handle.

He stared at Alastor out of the corner of his eye, an almost giddy feeling taking root in his heart as it started to really sink in that someone actually wanted him. Wanted to be with him.

He didn't have a clue what the sinner was thinking, nor was he absolutely convinced of Alastor's motives. He still had whatever his second favor was. However, mysterious motives and taciturn attitude aside, Alastor wasn't half bad as a catch, if he did say so himself. If Alastor was being honest about this, he thought they maybe actually had a shot at this.

Yes, Lucifer thought to himself, a slight skip in his step. Yes, he quite thought things were indeed looking up.

For a brief moment, he forgot that the universe hated him, always on the look out for when his life might be headed in a happier direction. That the universe had it out for him.

And it was more than happy to remind him of this fact.

tbc

Part 19

[espurr-roba]

[matchalovertrait]

— detailed character sheet tag

Tagged by @elderwisp!! Thank you so much <3 I already did this for Noemí once, so let's do this for Erick now!

Here he is as an adult lol. His (and Noemí's) birthday post hasn't been posted yet, so no, you guys haven't missed a post.

But anyway, I decided to try to recreate his old face!! It's not exactly the same, but close enough I think:

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial: Wealthy | Moderate | Poor | Impoverished |

✚ Medical: Fit | Moderate | Sickly | Disabled | Disadvantaged | Not Applicable

✪ Class or Caste: Upper | Middle | Working | Unsure | Other

✔ Education: Qualified | Unqualified | Studying | Other

✖ Criminal Records: Yes, for major crimes. | Yes, for minor crimes. | No | Has committed crimes, but not caught yet. | Yes, but charges were dismissed.

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

extroverted | introverted | in between

disorganized | organized | in between

close minded | open-minded | in between

calm | anxious | in between

disagreeable | agreeable | in between

cautious | reckless | in between

patient | impatient | in between

outspoken | reserved | in between

leader | follower | in between

empathetic | vicious bastard | in between

optimistic | pessimistic | in between

traditional | modern | in between

hard-working | lazy | in between

cultured | uncultured | in between

loyal | disloyal | unknown

faithful | unfaithful | unknown

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: Excellent | Good | Moderate (He probably got into a few school fights trying to work through his feelings. His parents didn't pay attention much attention to him.) | Poor | None

 ≡ Literacy Skills: Excellent | Good | Moderate | Poor | None

✍ Artistic Skills: Excellent | Good | Moderate | Poor | None

 ✂ Technical Skills: Excellent | Good | Moderate | Poor | None

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: Never | Special Occasion | Sometimes | Frequently | Alcoholic

☁ Smoking: Tried It | Trying To Quit | Quit | Never | Rarely | Sometimes | Frequently | Chain-Smoker

✿ Recreational Drugs: Never | Special Occasions | Sometimes | Frequently | Addict

✌ Medicinal Drugs: Never | No Longer Needs Medication | Some Medication Needed | Frequently | To Excess 

☻ Unhealthy Food: Never | Special Occasions | Sometimes | Frequently (His wife is a baker, hehe.) | Binge Eater 

$ Splurge Spending: Never | Sometimes | Frequently | Shopaholic 

 ♣ Gambling: Never | Rarely | Sometimes | Frequently | Compulsive Gambler

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith: Monotheist | Polytheist | Atheist | Agnostic

☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: Yes | No | Don’t Know | Don’t Care

✮ Belief in an Afterlife: Yes | No | Don’t Know | Don’t Care

✯ Belief in Reincarnation: Yes | No | Don’t Know | Don’t Care

❃ Belief in Aliens: Yes | No | Don’t Know | Don’t Care

✧ Religious: Orthodox | Liberal | In Between | Not Religious

❀ Philosophical: Yes | No

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: Had a child or children. (Ángel and Dulce <3) | Has no children. | Wants children.

◑ Relationship with Family: Close with sibling(s). | Not close with sibling(s). | Has no siblings. | Sibling(s) is deceased.

◔ Affiliation: Orphaned / Adopted / Disowned / Raised By Birth Parents (He has no contact with any of his family members back in the U.S.) / Not Applicable

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: Heterosexual | Homosexual | Bisexual | Asexual | Pansexual

❥ Sex: Sex repulsed | Sex neutral | Sex Favorable | Naive and Clueless

♥ Romance: Romance Repulsed | Romance Neutral [doesn't care] | Romance Favorable | Naive and Clueless | Romance Suspicious

❣ Sexually: Adventurous | Experienced | Naive | Inexperienced | Curious 

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: Male | Female | Agender | Other | None | All

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: Male | Female | Agender | Other | None | All

I tag:

@miralure @ruthplaysthesims @authorspirit @living-undead @gooretrait

@babzyz @monets-pixels @anamoon63 @mdshh @stargirl-trait

@nzrowe @linalinsims @simmenycricket @aurorangen @elysiantrait

@akitasimblr @windslar @peachypiichi @bouncytrait @cawthorntales

@coatedinhoney @yibsygerbits @swallowprettybird @bloomingkyras @ktysh

@berrycactus @virtualfolk @deardiaryts4 @nerdysimming @changingplumbob

@wrixie @seriallovertrait @cinamun @druidberries

[mmmatchasims]

sneak peak!

bpr posts will start going up on tuesday and i will try to get in game this weekend and take as many pics as i can - we're sooo close to the end of gen 3

[vaalthus]

Akriloth the Protector  Akriloth the Destroyer  Speculations...mostly ramblings

I have to say the recent Inn fight for Akriloth was somehow both an odd breath of fresh air and bewilderment. To see this dragon of fire, who has been antagonistic to the point that trait of theirs has transcended timelines, being not only visibly earnest towards the presence of other humans but also enraged towards the threat of cruelty and suffering was rather cathartic, to say the least. 

Now of course within the context of Dragonfable’s current lore regarding the Great Elemental Dragons, the visage of Akriloth in the Inn does not come as a complete surprise. With the ability to reincarnate as many times as necessary to preserve the balance, it is only natural that there would be a version of Akriloth capable of displaying noble traits, such as empathy or compassion, especially at the very dawn of their creation after the Twins went missing. The result? An Akriloth who is duty-bound to protect the balance of Lore and the domain of Fire.

 Though this begs a simple question? Why is the incarnation of Akriloth encountered in book 1 so destructive and arrogant? Why is it does he seem to care nothing of human life nor even maintaining the balance? 

What drove them to utterly annihilate Maar? It is here I would like to speculate as to why this change in goals occurred by examining events that potentially pertain to the state of Akriloth’s place in Book 1.

First, I would like to examine when the iteration of the Akriloth we encountered in the Inn likely existed. Judging by the look of them, I’d say there’s a good chance that this is perhaps the very first one that was created by Fiamme, the avatar of fire, namely for one reason: the jewelry that adorns Akriloth’s head. The reason I believe this points to this one being the very first incarnation of them is that if we consider that the Avatars made each Great Dragon to essentially copy the role of the Drahr Twins after they had disappeared, it is possible they also tried to replicate some of the symbolism that came with their appearance, namely the jewels and gold the Aequilibria embellished the twins with. 

Admittedly, however, this piece of evidence may fall flat if we take into account say Genokratos, for example, since if we assume that based on their size and knowledge that they truly have never died, and therefore never reincarnated, then it begs the question of why all the great dragons weren’t adorned with jewelry. Unless Genokratos did have some bling on them before outgrowing it.

Alternatively, I also believe that it is entirely possible that gold encrusted onto Akriloth’s face might be a human addition of all things. The reason I believe this to possibly be the case is because noticeably there are three orange feathers, possibly his own, affixed to his horn via golden studs. Now why might this be evidence that humans were responsible for this? Well, some of the obsidian castings that contain the remnants of those that lived on Maar, curiously, have feathers, seemingly in a pair of three, wrapped around their heads. It, of course, is entirely possible that inhabitants that occupied Maar simply wear the feathers to pay homage to Akriloth himself, but I like to think it’s entirely possible that when Akriloth started working more closely with the humans as their protector he grafted on his feathers to show respect to a preexisting cultural practice. 

If the pierced  feathers are in fact a result of human influence, I wonder at then the red gem, presumably the Heart of Maar itself, that hangs from Akriloth’s snout, if it too was perhaps a crystal that was sacred to the people of Pelekoa that they gave to Akriloth to symbolize their trust and pact with one another. Assuming of course, that the gem is not at all related to Akriloth ties to the Plane of Fire.

Questions about which version of Akriloth this is, before the one we fight in BK1, or why he’s stacked in golden drip aside, I think we can reasonably assess at least when the version we fight in the Inn was active and that time is likely a little while during or after the Shadowscythe made their move 1000 years ago.

 The evidence that I suspect supports this belief is the dragonlord attendants that accompany Akriloth in their boss fight with namely the Fang of Akriloth attendant giving the most damning evidence as they hold a dragon amulet in their hands.

 As many of you reading this know, the dragon amulets were made by the Avatars as a means to foster trust, and likely a modicum of respect, between humans and dragons so that they might stand a better chance at striking back at the forces of Doom. The threat of the Shadowscythe likely also explains why the dragons are noted to be “sworn or promised” to protect humans because after all who would they need protection from initially? Furthermore, I suspect the Shadowscythe likely are the beings that Akriloth possibly accuses of suffering and cruelty, in our fight with them, given inflicting such brutality is effectively their modus operandi. Additionally, as a being meant to impose destiny and protect the balance, it makes sense as to why their hatred of them specifically would be everlasting.

Whatever the case we can safely say that this Akriloth, along with their attendants, has been dead for some time. What exactly killed them I cannot quite say. It could have been the Shadowscythe or some other force, but I believe what is clear is that they all likely died together defending Maar in one final stand against their enemies. At least, that is what I infer from Scales’ and Fang’s popup dialogue when they are on their last legs in the trio fight anyways.

This brings us to the mystery surrounding the events that led to the tragic fate of Maar and those that inhabited Pelekoa. I truly wonder where the relationship between Akriloth and the rest of the world broke down. Clearly, the incarnation we are more familiar with had reached the adulthood stage of most dragons meaning they likely had to have at least two or three hundred years of experience alive before they were slumbering beneath Maar. 

The reason why I say “before” their slumber is because Pelekoa seemed to have a vested interest in making sure Akriloth remained undisturbed for some reason, as outlined in the design notes designated: Jaania’s Thorns (which details Tipu and Ahimsa’s backstory), almost as if they knew exactly what would happen if he ever woke up again. Though I suppose its just as likely that something amiss while Akriloth was asleep as well.

Either way, this is where things become confusing. Akriloth was known as the fabled defender of Maar and yet the very fact that the Pelekoans wanted to keep Akriloth’s presence a secret would indicate that for some time they no longer saw the Great Dragon as their trusted protector. So, what went wrong? For all intents and purposes, it feels like nothing should have gone awry. It’s outlined in Jaania’s Thorns that Pelekoa was a place where its human occupants lived in peace with the dragons residing there, in addition, it was also the place where the Guardians of the Fire, the holders of the Fire Orb created by Fiamme, dwelt. 

For some time, Maar seems like it should have been a stronghold for order and stability of the Balance. So, why in one dark moment did its most legendary defender destroy it all?

Clearly, something went wrong, but when and why? I’d say whatever steered Akriloth toward the path of destruction likely occurred before he took his molten nap. Though the question is what could it have been? Well, I think there might be three potential candidates here. The first is quite possibly the Shadowscythe itself. We know that the adventurer responsible for waking Akriloth up was fooled into finding them in the first place which likely means whoever tricked them wanted Akriloth to be disturbed in the first place. We know that members of the Shadowscythe often have far reaching plans when it comes to obtaining their ultimate goal to the point, they will slowly nudge events along in the hopes it will lead to enough chaos in the future to gain the upper hand. If we consider this line of thought, then perhaps an agent of Doom, quite possibly the Mysterious Stranger, infiltrated the city of Pelekoa and discovered that Akriloth was sleeping beneath the earth. Knowing full well that Akriloth was in a delicate state while under Maar, this agent leads an unassuming adventurer, foreign to Pelekoa, to wake Akriltoh up so that they would destroy the island and its defenders. All the while getting the benefit of Akriloth making a beeline for the Land of Dragons and subsequently throwing the region into further chaos.

The second canidate, though perhaps not as likely, is the Magesterium. The reason why I peg them as a candidate behind Akriloth’s lack of care is primarily two sources, or rather the existence of at least one of them. 

We know, according to Voyna, that the dragons present on Azaveyr betrayed their oaths to protect the humans there. 

Now for what reason the Azayveran dragons turned their backs on the humans cannot be said but what I find curious is that this relationship between them and humanity was characterized as an alliance of all things. 

An alliance of all things implies that both sides had to have some mutually beneficial incentive in mind to want to enter it in the first place, so what could it have been? 

Well, again it was likely the threat of the Shadowscythe as who else would humanity need protecting from?

Circling back to the conflict with the dragons, Voyna’s journal entry mentions that their people’s highest-ranking mages, likely early Magesters, were sent out across the sea, to the Land of Dragons, to find something, anything, that could help turn the tide against the dragons in their favor. Now with the recent quest of Project Casca being released, we know this was the Fissure, and by extension the piece of the mana core that was previously in their custody. Before Roirr basically ate the damn thing. 

With these details in mind, I’d say there’s a good chance they crossed through Maar either on their way to the location of the Fissure or on their way back from it when they acquired the fragment of the Mana Core.

So, what if, while Akriloth was relatively still young, the collective mages and forces they brought with them fought their way through Maar, fighting its inhabitants, and in the ensuing battle managed to either significantly wound Akriloth enough to the point where they were forced to sleep and recover beneath Maar for centuries or the Mages used their magic, which I can imagine was the refined type if they were going back to Azaveyr, to trap Akriloth beneath Maar keeping them from escaping until this magic lost its hold when that unknown adventurer was fooled into finding Akirloth’s lair. In either scenario, I’d imagine Akriloth would be pretty pissed off that they were attacked and confined in this manner and possibly would have condemned all of humanity for suffering such a fate, even blaming their allies for not being able to properly protect them.

Alternatively, this could have also taken place long after the conflict with Voyna/the Whisper had concluded and the Shapeless Empire had been established, though likely still in its infancy as an empire. It may be possible that scenario I described took place on Maar just some time after the humans were able to push the dragons out of Azaveyr though I imagine this time around such an event involving the Magesterium’s interference would have been way more covert.

The third, and perhaps oddest of all candidates, is that the culprits of Akriloth’s ire and madness were the Pelekoans themselves. If we consider once again the details outlined in Jaania’s Thorns, the Pelekoans kept Akriloth's presence as their most well-hidden secret. Potentially, this would mean they quite possibly never wanted Akriloth to be disturbed from their slumber. So, what if the reason for this course of action is because those generations before Tipu and Ahisma were responsible for keeping or forcing Akriloth beneath Maar to sleep. It would explain why Akriloth made sure to kill everyone and everything on the island. Imagine that for years, and past lives, you protected the lives of these humans that were supposed to have your back only for them to turn on you and imprison you for Avatars knows how long. You would probably want to wipe them off the face of the Lore as well.

 Now I do find this theory to be somewhat unlikely for two key reasons. Namely, my skepticism comes from what Tipu and Ahisma tell us as when we question them about their background at the base of Jaania’s tower they tell us that they were meant to be heroes amongst their people. Now that might not seem like it means anything at first until you glance at the breastplate that is present on both twins’ armor. It shares striking similarities  o the Fang of Akriloth attendant’s breastplate on their armor.

 This resemblance leads me to believe one of two things: that Tipu and Ahisma were being trained as dragonlords and had dragons that are now very much dead if Tipu’s words are anything to judge by or they may have quite possibly been trained to be the new attendants of Akriloth in their generation. Combine that possibility with the fact that both the dragons and humans on Maar were still living in harmony before Akriloth woke up and it begins to become confusing as to why they specifically would trap Akriloth below the island destroying that bond in the process.

 The fourth possibility, although the least interesting one among them, is that this version of Akriloth was just an asshole with a bad temperament from the get-go this time around and the Pelekoans knew if anyone woke them up early, they’d all be screwed regardless of anyone having done anything to Akriloth personally. Heck this scenario doesn’t even necessarily require Shadowscythe interference just some mischievous goober that thought sending someone to get eaten by Akriloth would be funny .Jokes aside, it is certainly possible that this Akriloth was just never raised correctly given that even after destroying Maar, Akriloth takes actions that specifically threaten the Balance. Care towards human life aside, you would think the one thing they were born to uphold and not threaten would be Akriloth’s next step but nope, he just wanted to burn everything to the ground after waking up from his lava nap. Which does seem feasible given it is mention in Book 1 that they needed to be raised properly to do their job. Which tragically might mean that whoever was responsible for caring for Akriloth this time around simply failed to instill in them the proper values to uphold their responsibilities

Unless, of course, Akriloth was always just predestined to be evil this time around if we consider that their actions were required of them when the prophecy of the Twins went into motion again. Although that seems like a stretch.

 With my speculations regarding the truth of why the tragedy of Maar occurred concluded, I think we need to look towards where Akriloth could go from here. The reason I say this is because by the end of the finale of the orb saga, Akriloth has already reincarnated. 

Furthermore, despite previously being within Sepulchure’s custody when his new fortress was destroyed by Drakath, the baby version of Akriloth managed to escape the catastrophe and is now somewhere on Lore doing who knows what. 

I firmly believe that this new incarnation of Akriloth being found will make all the difference between them being the Protector they once were and the monster we’ve come to remember them as.

Ah, but that concludes my thoughts on Akriloth for the moment. Man, this ended up being way longer than I intended. Oh and here’s a link to the Jaania’s Thorns DN: https://www.dragonfable.com/gamedesignnotes/Inquisithorns-5641 

Ya know in case anyone was interested in reading that source.

[cheriafreya]

I'm still over the moon for getting him as my first 5 star I can't shut up about it

[phagodyke]

I will say while I've loved most of elden ring I'm really glad I'm down to just 2 more main boss fights (malenia + maliketh) before I start the endgame boss fights... whew 😮‍💨

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!! <3

[brown-little-robin]

The Peacock Room, Adeline’s Mansion, New Jersey

[sanguineterrain]

Kurt wagner and tail stuff!!! I love that boy! I love how you write! I love the tail! Smashing them together we got a a little piece of heaven! So Kurt wagner with s/o and some tail action pretty please!!

(Like if you need some more then that: for example, the times before they were together Kurt’s tail always seemed to gravitate towards reader (I’m an advocate that Kurt’s tail is like a fricking mood ring) wrapping around them, touching them. The times when they were together! And the time reader wraps their hand or something around his tail or something)

Love your writing! You’re awesome and amazing! And I want to say in advance, thank you so so much for doing this ask! I will treasure it dearly! And if you don’t do the ask then thank you so so much to taking the time to read it! Have a lovely day!

ouuu this is a sweet request <3 tail boy! thanks nonnie :) hopefully I did him justice 🫶 changed the request a bit but kept the same idea about the tail. may write a part 2... we'll see!

kurt wagner (nightcrawler) x gn!reader. fluff, cooking, gambit and rogue trying to talk some sense into the reader.

note: I tried to capture kurt and gambit's accents. however, as always, I'm open to feedback on them. It's definitely not my intention to offend or miswrite anyone!

****

The smell of bubbling cheese wafts from your pot as you stir. It's been a while since you were able to cook for yourself and have a nice meal, always running out to do something or another for the good of the planet.

"Smells good," comes a familiar voice. A moment later, a tail curls around your wrist as you shake some paprika into the pot.

You look away from your stirring into golden, irisless eyes. Kurt grins at you.

"Mac 'n cheese," you say by way of greeting. "Want some?"

"Please und thank you."

Anytime you cook, you offer Kurt to share. You frequently have the thought that you spoil the hell out of him, but you can't help it.

He helps you out by putting away the milk and cheese. But he's never far; his tail remains on you. It slackens from your wrist, then explores up your arm and around your elbow.

It's nothing new, of course. The first thing you learned about Kurt Wagner is how physically affectionate he is.

"That tail seems to have a mind of its own, elfie," you say, smiling down at the pot.

"What do you mean?"

"It's always holding onto me." You turn off the burner.

"Ah." Kurt drops his tail. "My apologies. I can ease up, as you say."

You shake your head. "Don't. I don't mind. Never have."

So Kurt gives you one final tail squeeze. The fur on his arm tickles you as he brushes past. You watch him in confusion.

"Where are you going?" you ask, halfway through scooping two servings of the pasta.

"Not far," he says brightly. "Jean wanted me to bring spoons from the kitchen." He holds up three metal spoons with his tail.

"Spoons?"

He shrugs. "An experiment. Who am I to question a scientist's whim? I promise I will be fast."

He teleports away, and you have a mind to cover Kurt's bowl with a plate. You bring both bowls to the table. At last, a proper meal.

You don't mind eating alone, but that hardly ever happens with Kurt around. Even if he's just eaten, he'll nibble on whatever you've made. You don't know where he puts all that food—perhaps in another dimension—but he makes it a point to eat with you, regardless of whether you've cooked or not. Even if you're in the middle of the forest eating a tin of beans, Kurt will plant himself right next to you and keep you company.

He's a good friend. The best friend you've ever had, actually.

"Woo, smells good!"

Gambit comes in first, followed by Rogue, since the two are never seen apart anymore. Gambit, nosy that he is, makes a beeline to Kurt's covered bowl.

"And what's in here?" he asks, lifting the plate.

"That's Kurt's," you say. "You can get some from the pot."

"Mais, it's Kurt's, huh?" He glances at Rogue, who grins. "Hear that, chère? Not sure if I should take from the pot. Might take my head, too."

You squint as they share laughter. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, nothin'," Rogue says sweetly, taking the seat diagonal to you. Gambit sits next to her.

Your frown deepens. "I didn't say you couldn't have some, G, I just—"

Gambit shakes his head. "Don't go worryin' 'bout that. I'm just teasin'. I think it's cute how you feed the furball."

"Excuse me, I feed myself first," you say, and shovel a forkful of pasta into your mouth.

You hate not being in the know. It happens frequently, being that you're not a mutant. You're here on a personal invitation from Charles due to your "technology skills."

Really, you'd been brought here to fix Cerebro. And after that, you'd sort of just... stayed at the school. Charles had offered you a room, Kurt had won your friendship (or, perhaps, you'd won his), and you'd never left.

"Well, what do you mean, anyway? So what if I feed Kurt," you say, unable to stand not knowing.

"Just seems like where you are, Kurt's never far," Rogue says, watching you eat.

"Yeah, so? He's my friend."

"Oh, un ami. Is that what we're callin' it?" Gambit asks, eyes gleaming with mirth.

"What else would you call it?"

They look at each other in that Siamese cats way. Often, you've had the thought that they can read each other's minds—no powers needed.

"You really don't know?" Rogue asks, voice softening.

"Know what?" you ask impatiently.

Gambit makes a quiet noise in his throat. "Y'all don't know. He's gone on you."

Your brows rise. "Kurt? Don't be silly, Remy."

"Oh, great. You're both in denial," Rogue says, rolling her eyes. "Haven't you noticed how touchy he is around ya? Always huggin' and clingin'."

"Kurt's like that with everybody," you say. "He's like that with Logan!"

"Mais, the tail, it never lies," Gambit says with all the wisdom of someone centuries older. "He don't go wrappin' that tail 'round anybody."

Rogue nods sagely. "True. And he's always puttin' that tail around you."

"But he's..." You put your fork down in frustration. "That's ridiculous. Kurt would've said—I mean, there would've been a sign. He would've told me. Kurt doesn't hide anything from me."

"This is new for him, honey," Rogue says. "He's never been in love for real. He's not gonna act rationally."

"Alors, look at it this way. La Raison parle, mais l'Amour chante. Hm? His body betray his words. It sings to you. Jus' like I sing to ma cherie."

He reaches to take Rogue's hand, eyes practically heart-shaped. Rogue lets him, smiling in that secret, shy way of hers whenever Gambit is sweet on her.

L'Amour...

"Kurt is not in love with me," you say. "End of story."

They both heave sighs.

"Just watch his tail," Rogue says. "Kurt can hide a lot, but he can't control how he—"

BAMF!

You flinch as Kurt teleports into the kitchen. He grins and waves, then bounces around the table to greet the others.

"I'm back!" he says. "I hope my mac did not get cold. Will you be eating with us?"

"No, that's okay," Rogue says, looking at you meaningfully behind Kurt's back. "Rain check. We've gotta go train."

Gambit winks at you. "See y'all."

They disappear quickly. Kurt turns to you, blissfully unaware of your newly formed nerves.

"I am sorry I was gone for so long," Kurt says, sitting down to his bowl. "Jean had some questions about my abilities. Apparently, she's trying to replicate them in a machine."

"That's okay," you say. "Rogue and G kept me company."

Kurt beams. "They are so good for that, yes?"

He shovels a mouthful of mac 'n cheese into his mouth and groans in appreciation. His tail instantly curls around your wrist.

"Amazing!" Kurt says. "Perhaps your special ability is your cooking, hm? I would believe it."

You laugh. "Danke, elfie."

"Bitte schön," he says, eyes lighting up at your German. He frequently informs everyone about how good your German is becoming, even though you hardly know ten phrases.

His tail begins to stroke your arm. You wonder if he's aware of it. If he knows how his tail betrays him.

But no, that's outrageous. And even if it was true, it's not like the feeling's mutual, right?

"Oh, and," Kurt says. "I got us tickets to that show you wanted to see. They're playing it at the theater downtown. We can go on Saturday, ja?"

"You... oh. Wow. I told you about that ages ago, Kurt. You remembered?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he says, tilting his head. Like it hadn't occurred to him to be anything less than thoughtful.

"No, I'm just—thank you. That's really nice of you."

Kurt beams. "I am excited to watch the green witch und her pink friend sing!"

He keeps eating, unaware of the way he's made your world tip on its axis. Because now you know.

You're in love with Kurt Wagner. And the feeling just might be mutual.

[twistedbloodstain]

What are you planning on writing from now on? Amazing series btw I was always waiting for updates LOVED IT

thank you so much!!! <333

im def working on the two seperate one shots asked for the marquis im very eager to write one of them bc it includes the marquis being a BIG SIMP for the reader, the other’s a trophy wife! reader. it’ll be interesting to see the dynamics between them. in addition that aftermath fic is definitely in the works. i’ve made a piece of dialogue for that but i don’t have enough time to finish it 😞

in addition i’m in the middle of the keith toshko fic but i still haven’t finished it

[jesslovesboats]

Hello friends, I am back with more reading recommendations for your agonies! Next up we have the long awaited and much requested Sad Boat Fiction list. As with all of my lists, this is NOT exhaustive and there WILL be great books left off, and also you may or may not like these books! I only rec things that I've personally enjoyed or that come highly recommended by trusted friends, but taste in books is incredibly subjective, especially with fiction. If I missed your favorite, please add it in the comments or drop it in my DMs!

Now that I'm feeling more settled in my new job, I will hopefully have a lot more time to make book lists and do more virtual Readers' Advisory. I have lists in the works for women in polar exploration and companion reads for the HBO War series, but if there's something else you would love to see, please send me a message!

Classics of the Genre

At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver

Media Tie-Ins

Who Goes There? (Filmed as The Thing) by John W. Campbell, Jr.

The North Water by Ian McGuire

Cold Skin by Alfred Sánchez Piñol

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Graphic Novels

Whiteout by Greg Rucka

How to Survive in the North by Luke Healy

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

*this is only fiction in the broadest possible sense of the term, but there is a shiny new American version of this book coming out with a gorgeous new cover and you should pre-order it immediately

Science Fiction

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin

Antarctica by Kim Stanley Robinson

Romance

Under a Pole Star by Stef Penney

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley

My Last Continent by Midge Raymond

Inspired by the Terra Nova Expedition

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

The Birthday Boys by Beryl Bainbridge

Terra Nova: A Play by Ted Tally

Antarctic Navigation by Elizabeth Arthur

*this is only fiction in the broadest possible sense of the term, but there is a shiny new American version of this book coming out with a gorgeous new cover and you should pre-order it immediately

Inspired by the Franklin Expedition

The Rifles by William T. Vollmann

Minds of Winter by Ed O'Loughlin

Solomon Gursky Was Here by Mordecai Richler

On the Proper Use of Stars by Dominique Fortier

Literary Fiction

The Voyage of the Narwhal by Andrea Barrett

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy

We, The Drowned by Carsten Jensen

Inspired by the Classics

The Route of Ice and Salt by José Luis Zárate

Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund

Modern Day Antarctica

How the Penguins Saved Veronica by Hazel Prior

South Pole Station by Ashley Shelby

Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple

Polar and Nautical Horror

Where the Dead Wait by Ally Wilkes

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver

Cold Earth by Sarah Moss

The Deep by Nick Cutter

All the White Spaces by Ally Wilkes

Dark Water by Elizabeth Lowry

The Deep by Alma Katsu

Happy reading!

[thewildwaffle]

Friend Shaped

The professor clacked his beak sharply three times in the front of the room. The students, around 40 individuals, and many species from across the galactic arm hushed almost immediately. “Welcome back, class. The day for your first planet-side mission to Nemulon 3 is fast approaching, and we've still got a lot of safety training to cover, so let's get started.” The professor stepped aside to allow a projection to display against the board behind him. A picture of a blue, green, and gray planet shone brightly against the dark tapestry of space. Nemulon 3 had been discovered deca-orbits ago but offered a wide variety of biomes that were the perfect blend of challenging and safe to train new recruits to the Galactic Alliance’s Exploration Fleet. “Today we're covering some alien fauna you may encounter while conducting exploratories. Most are small enough that they won't pose much of an issue, but we do have a few category 5 lifeforms that you need to be aware of.” The display behind the professor changed from an image of Nemulon 3 from orbit to a chart topped by 5 images with their respective labels: karindru, oold, dini-dini, barintuna, and great lavalen. Before the professor could start in on the next part of his lecture, a voice spoke out from the middle of the classroom.“That looks like a dog.” The professor stood with his beak half open. He was certainly not used to being interrupted, let alone this early in the lesson. “A what?” He finally choked out. There was a pause as if the offending student was thinking better about drawing more attention to themselves before slowly putting their hand up in the air. It was a human. Cadet Valentina, if the attendance role had been accurate. “I said it… it looks like a dog.” Human Valentina inhaled as if gathering the courage to say more. “They're a carnivorous canine species on earth that humans domesticated thousands of cycles ago and selectively bred to be pets.” The professor’s beak closed with a snap and some of the features near the base of his neck ruffled slightly. “Nemulon 3 is 47 light years away from Earth. Any similarities between each planet’s fauna is purely coincidental, a product of parallel evolution.” The human bowed her head and said nothing else, so the professor continued. “Now, for many of you of larger stature, a single karindru might not pose much of a threat, but their real danger comes from their numbers. They live, travel, and hunt in packs. Thankfully, their method of communicating with each other in their packs are quite loud, so you will hear them long before you see them, and hopefully, before they see you. Typically you’ll hear anything from yipping, chirping, and howling.” “Kind of like coyotes.” The professor stopped and stared at the human again, feathers ruffling once again. “Another kind of canine species back home,” Valentina offered quietly. If the professor was capable of growling, he might have been tempted to at that moment. Instead, he sighed slowly. “I can assure you, trying to get close to these will likely end with your injury or death.” “Well, that's what ancient humans thought about wolves too, but then we bred them into dogs and now they’re our best friends.” “Karindru are not, nor are any native creatures on this planet, your friend. Not now, not ever.” The professor turned sharply back to the board. The entire class was dead silent. Few even dared to breathe. It was quiet enough, in fact, to hear the human mumble under their breath, “If not friend, then why friend-shaped?”

The human was promptly given detention and assigned extra homework of writing “I will not try to domesticate any native fauna on Nemulon 3” one hundred times by hand.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

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