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christinebloodwrittings · 3 months ago

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To hunt or be Hunted

Alastor x reader x Lucifer

Chapter 1:

Warnings: Violence.

(Image: Dunes by Logan Feliciano. Source: Pinterest)

The dust kicked up every time you jumped to avoid the thrusts of her trident. It was becoming more and more difficult for you to move, with the blood falling down your side, your vision becoming cloudy, your back getting closer and closer to the destroyed foundations of what was once a building, until you were trapped.

Falling onto your knees, you looked up at her red glowing eyes, the two beasts fell to her side, their growl resonating deep within your bones. “I gave you a chance” she sure did, “I wanted us to be friends” her trident fell against your side, only one of the three knives grazing your skin, “But you just had to, right?” tears fell down her eyes, straight into the dirt under her heels.

“I…I underestimated you” you coughed out blood with a smile, “But I'm not dying here” she proved to be more of a challenge. No regrets, but you should’ve picked your fights a bit wiser. “This just can’t go on” she stilled the trident, trying not to deepen the already open wound, “We went through all the trouble of fighting, and you are going to let me live? Are you insane?” you growled annoyed and sore.

In between heavy breaths, she had an idea, “How about a bet?” one that made your lion ears perked up.

“Ten years, you'll work for me in my project, I believe I can manage to convince you to find something good to do with yourself” she ignited a warm yellow flame on her hand, it danced around her palm without hurting her, “What makes you think I will make a bet with you, or a deal for that matter?” you pushed her hand away, “This” she ignited her trident in the yellow flame.

With the blade she cut through your body and took your soul from you, just as easy as cutting butter. “I will kill you!” you yelled, a roar washing over your voice. She limited herself to smile triumphantly, as her eyes relaxed and shifted colors, “Now you kind of screwed, aren’t you?”.

“If I play along with your bullshit, you promise to give me back my soul?” you used the rubble behind you to push yourself onto a standing position, ungracefully so. “I promise” she offered her hand, the flame dancing in between her fingers.

You finally took her hand, the light shifted into a dark hue going up both hers and your arm, the deal sealing itself on your eyes, changing them from red sclera to a black ones, your pupils remaining a white-silver hue.

It was a big relief when the trident wound started to heal with a hiss. “You’re awfully confident” you shrugged, placing your hand over the burning flesh. “Well, we have a long time ahead of us, don’t we?” she took it upon herself to support you on your opposite side, helping you walk away from the debris.

7 years later

When the hotel fell apart you received an order, “Take everything inside and take it to safety” and so you did. All that was pictures, pets, luggage, everything, you gathered it far from the fight, then she told you to stay put until further notice.

You took a walk around, trying to go unnoticed as you were ordered, going into your phone adding a lot of new kitchen supplies into a virtual cart, when a groan made you look towards the Radio Demon’s crashed studio. After taking a hit of Adam’s guitar-axe, you thought it was amazing that he remained alive.

“Princess, Smiley is alive” your connection through your deal was truly an advantage when far away, “Go see if he’s okay, try to stay out of sight, and if he needs assistance, help him” he was obviously not okay, but you had an order, so you made your way across the sulfuric smelling debris, until you reached the door of his studio, pushing it lightly, shadow launched at you, attempting to scare you away, failing terribly.

“I have an order to check if you are, quote unquote 'okay', demon” the shadow smiled and moved away, allowing you in. Shadows painted over your body a veil, which he could not see through, only the silver light your eyes emitted.

You peeked to your right from the door to see Alastor sitting on the floor, back against his desk, trying to hide a big gush on his chest with his hands, “Are you ok?” he shot you a look that you could call a ‘Fuck you’ and a ‘You have to be kidding me’ mix.

“Are you in need of assistance?” again he didn’t answer directly, he just growled making his prongs a lot bigger, “This intimidation skit will not work on me sir, so answer, yes or no” his ears bent down and stayed flat behind his head, “No” he muttered, refusing any help from your part, “Okay then” his shadow opened the door for you, after a small curtsy to the gesture, you moved away from the rubble, the rocks making tiny crushing sounds under your heel.

His shadow caught up with you, mimicking a stop sign with his arm, “What?” then he made a figure with Alastor’s shape, a needle closing up his wound and then the same demon all smiling and walking, “So you want me to patch him up” the shadow nodded, the smile wider and cheery, “What’s in for me? He refused help, why would I go through all that trouble for free?” then he checks-mate you with Charlie’s shape. He threatened to tell on you, “Good try joker, but you ain’t got shit on me”.

“Alright” you heard the plea from the echo that the radio cabin made.

You made your way back to the demon, as soon as he saw you he took a look at his shadow before his prongs grew any bigger, then at you taking off his shirt, he continued growling and making static noises, it became louder with every step.

As you took his coat and shirt off he noticed the tips of your fingers were a burned black color, your hands a much lighter color in contrast, light yellow, he would dare to even call it pastel, but due to the poor light he couldn’t decide on hues.

Your nails were retractable ones, he noticed how you stopped before you touched the fabric of his coat, your nails went back into your fingers and then you proceeded.

“I’ll stitch it up, but that’s all” you took in the raw hatred in his eyes before continuing. “If you shower, avoid extreme temperatures, and apply alcohol near the edges to keep it from infections” you instructed while partially removing his garments, leaving both his dress shirt and coat hanging down his elbows. The shadow provided you with a curved needle and suture thread, a very resistant one at that.

“What the blazes!?” he shrieked when you undid his belt, only to tie his hands behind his back with it, “I don’t want you messing my work up” you explained, making a pop with your mouth at the end.

As the needle went through his skin, you found it weird not hearing a single peep off of him, then you discovered he was biting his lip, to the point it bled down his chin. “If you need to yell, do so, you’ll only hurt yourself if you continue doing that” his ears went back again, like a plea to make the pain go away, at the same time that embarrassment shot against his spine like a lightning. Then he yelled into the opposite side, to avoid receiving another smack.

When you finished closing the large gash, the shadow wrapped it up in bandages, “There you go” you stood up, dusting your knees before turning on your heels. He cleared his throat bitterly to draw your attention to the fact that he was still tied up, only to receive a disinterested giggle and your utter lack of concern.

“I’ve killed pests for less than this attitude you’re insulting me with” he thought that with an implied threat he would get rid of his binds and also get a little sign of fear from you, sadly his magic was weak, and so was the remaining strength he had, so he couldn’t free himself no matter how much he tugged on the leather.

He had a little bit of hope he could induce some authority toward you, but all he got was his hair pulled backwards and the cold steel of an ax pressed against his neck.

He took a couple of seconds to ask himself, how come you were behind him in less than a second? And also swallow the fact that now he was the one being threatened.

“Knowing how to pick your fights, may save your life one day” The edge of the blade made a sharp noise while being dragged up slowly up his neck, stopping under his chin. “You’ve chosen badly twice in a day, and barely walked alive off the first one” you tugged just a little bit harder on his hair, just to place your authority over his will.

“Tell me, are you dumb enough to bite the hand that stitched you, and die because your bruised ego and your big mouth are taking control of your rational thinking?” you couldn’t measure the amount of hate his stare held, but he attentively took your advice at heart, so he relaxed his eyes and his smile turned less demonic, only answering your question with a soft no with his head.

Withdrawing the ax from his neck, you used the point to let the buckle lose without breaking it, allowing the belt to fall down his wrists. “Start picking your fights more wisely, boy, afterlife 101” you mocked while ruffling his hair right in between his ears.

“Now, I don’t think someone will ask, but if they do, we never had this conversation, rep wise” he nodded, “You better-“ his tongue tied on itself, he reckon your face being inches away from his, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul, deer-est” you chuckled at your own wordplay, while all he could do was stare at your eyes.

“Who are you?” You assumed for a long time that hell had already forgotten you, after thirty years without making yourself present, who wouldn't? Plus, he looked a lot younger than you, he lived on earth at least ten years longer than you, lucky bastard.

��No one” before he could make an attempt to grab your hand, you jumped out the door, disappearing from his sight into the mountain of rubble.

When Alastor made his way back to the new Hotel, he felt tempted to ask around about what he just witnessed, but preferred to keep his mouth shut. He wouldn’t admit in front of the others that the Radio Demon got assisted and handled as a whiny child, so instead he remained the smiley guy he is.

All the rooms got sorted later in the night, with a snap of his fingers everything in the new room looked exactly as it did in the old one. He placed the ruined coat and dress shirt on a chair, resorting to a gray suit he had lying around, “I should start broadcasting” he muttered to himself, making his way to his brand new station situated in the left wing of the Hotel.

After a few hours he came back to his quarters to refresh. He inspected his chest just to reassure himself, his scar had been closed with an almost religious delicacy. It almost felt like lace.

No one would catch the Radio Demon blushing while tracing his wound, but Alastor didn’t mind at the moment.

---

Hazbin Taglist: @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @littlebluefishtail

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 1 year ago

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Hold Still ~ X.T.

A/n: Gender neutral pronouns were used, so gn reader for this one! Pure fluff after the last angsty fic <3

Request: “Xavier x werewolf!reader where R gets into a fight with another student that Xavier pulls them out of and helps patch them up. R is still drunk on adrenaline(or like mildly concussed lmao), and they keep being annoying trying to steal kisses from him while he’s literally trying to help stop their face from bleeding.”

Word Count: 1500+

MASTERLIST

Xavier had gotten there too late to see how it had started, but it was quickly quite clear how it was ending. Y/n wasn’t shifted at all, only their eyes glowing as they went to town on the person underneath them. Xavier had only managed to slip through the crowd and hook his hands under his partner’s arms, hefting them up and away. They had fought, and though Xavier was taller they were stronger and they almost got away. If him not groaning as their foot came in contact with the sude of his leg and them recognizing his voice, they probably would have gotten away clean.

Distracted by Xavier though, their focus changed quickly as they turned from the guy that Xavier didn’t even recognize - except that they weren’t from Nevermore. Which made no sense because they were at school. The town people never came here on their own.

He focused on his partner as their hands ran over his shoulders and down his arms, eyes scanning for injury.

Despite himself, Xavier smiled. “I’m okay.” Of course they had the time and energy to be worried about him when they had a forming black eye, split lip and bloody nose.

Xavier was a little proud to say the other guy looked worse though. Y/n had handled him well.

Not that he should he encouraging that.

Weems was on the scene in the next breath, leaving no room for further discussion. Her eyes ran over something before her worry turned cold and hard as her eyes landed on the boy still on the ground. No one had even tried to help him up, which confused Xavier even more.

Then he saw it.

When Xavier’s art in town had been painted over last year, Weems had given him permission to do something at the school. He had put all of the effort he had into this one, absolutely sure that it would be safe inside the school at the very least.

The wall he’d had his second painting was white, the paint only on enough to cover what he had worked so hard on, underneath. Over the white was splattered, “Monster” in big blocky red letters. At the bottom of the scene on the wall was an open and prepped bear trap.

Xavier felt himself go pale.

The trap was a message of course, the boy probably hadn’t meant to actually catch Xavier or anyone else. But it would have been easy not to see it if you were lost in a book or practicing some practical magic or in regular school stuff - even if you were in a hurry on the way to class. There was a corner that someone could turn around and completely not see the trap at all.

This kid had not only ruined Xavier’s portrait, he had put every single person at Nevermore in very real danger.

No wonder Y/n had gone for the throat.

Weems leered at the boy at her full height and the boy on the ground shrunk into himself. “You won’t press charges, or spread word on what happened here. If you try to I will expose the instigating actions and very illegal trespassing and assault you’ve done. Don’t even get me started on the physical safety threat you’ve made.” It wasn’t totally accurate, but it would he only too easy to play off if anyone tried anything.

Weems had grown a backbone. That was nice to see.

The boy nodded and, once dismissed by Weems, scrambled to freedom. She then turned to Y/n. She didn’t reprimand them as expected. Her gaze simply softened and she sighed. “I know things have gotten difficult for you since getting arrested,” she said softly to Xavier. His eyes fell to the ground, unable to look at his ruined painting.

For the second time now.

“Make me something for my office instead okay?” She asked.

Xavier nodded, looking at her as she kneeled down to check on how Y/n was doing. “Thanks, Weems.”

The woman smiled. “Of course. Now go get your partner patched up.”

Xavier smiled softly, helping Y/n to their feet. The pair left to Xavier’s dorm. Usually they’d be sneakier or at least get some light hearted joking teasing from teachers or reminders of curfew, but today they just walked and everyone left them alone.

Y/n had stepped up for Nevermore ajd taken hits for it. They could have this one.

Once inside, Xavier sat them down on his bed (It smelled like him and he knew they’d like that). Then he got a wet rag, disinfectant and a few bandages. He sat next to Y/n, reaching over to hold their chin as he used the rag to softly dab and wipe the blood away, cleaning the cut.

They hissed, leaning away on instinct. Xavier shot them a half amused look. “We love a knight in shining armor but now I have to patch you up like the good boyfriend I am. So please stay still.”

Y/n did a little pout. “Can’t you just kiss it better?”

Xavier chuckled. Then he sobered a bit as he realized their eyes were dilated and their gaze seemed a little unfocused.

Shit.

“Hey, are you feeling anything abnormal other than the pain from the bruising and cuts?” He asked, trying to move their chin so their eyes would meet his. They seemed to struggling with the task.

Y/n just shrugged. “My head hurts a little. He got like, two good hits in. But only in the beginning. I landed on the ground before he got on top of me and then I sort of flipped us over and-“ They shrugged again.

Xavier frowned. “Did you hit your head?”

Y/n laughed at that. “Several times. Between his fist and the concrete I got a few good whacks.”

Xavier bit back an angry comment. That wouldn’t help them right now. He would chide Y/n for being reckless and apathetic with their well being another time. “Y/n, you have a concussion.” He raised an accusing eyebrow.

Y/n grinned. “Not surprised I got a bit roughed up falling for you.”

Xavier snorted, rolling his eyes and dodging his partner as they went in for a kiss. “You cannot flirt your way out of this. You should have told me that you hit your head. I could have made it worse.”

Y/n sighed, leaning against the end of the bed, first pushing a pillow behind him so the post didn’t dig into his back. “I’m sorry Xav I just. Tired.” They nestled into the bed and closed their eyes, as if to sleep.

Xavier pulled them into a sitting position, heart swelling when they whined. They were so adorable right now…

He had go focus.

“You can’t fall asleep when you have s concussion darling we don’t know exactly how bad your concussion is.”

Y/n rolled his eyes but conceded. “Fine. Continue your treatment Doctor Thorpe.”

A smile ghosted at his lips again, unable to help himself. “Okay sit still and I’ll try to get the rest of your face.”

“Not my face,” Y/n groaned. “My money winner!”

A chuckle bubbled from Xavier as he was caught off guard by the near drunk way Y/n was acting right now. He seemed to be able to focus more easily now and wasn’t slurring his words, and he seemed to be keeping his balancing sitting up fine enough so Xavier was unworried enough to be able to enjoy the shenanigans. “Whatever, Y/n.” He reached the rag forward to wipe more of the blood away. Y/n ducked the rag and leaned in again for a kiss. This time they got a peck before Xavier ducked out of the way. “Y/n,” he chided.

The put on their best pleading face. “One kiss and I’ll sit still?”

Xavier sighed, taking a second before conceding. “Fine.” They made a squeaky noise of celebration before puckering up, leaning in. Xavier chuckled before shifting his hold from their chin to their jaw, leaning in for a long and deep and sincere kiss. When he leaned away they whined and he found himself suddenly sickly in love. “Please let me finish?”

Y/n hesitated, eyes locked on the details of Xavier’s face, drinking in how he was looking at them right now. They pursed their lips. “Xav. You know you’re not a monster, right?”

Xavier felt something warm settle in his chest. Y/n was always so aware and caring of him, even when they were concussed.

God he was lucky. “I know.” His thumb brushed across their cheek, expression soft. He was melted to the floor in love with them.

They smiled. “Good.” They settled into a single spot, lifting their chin and offering their face for cleaning. Xavier went back to work, thanking whoever was listening above that even though people were cruel and mistakes haunted you even when the mistakes weren’t yours - that despite all the bad in the world, Xavier had Y/n. Someone so good they single handedly balanced everything else.

He could paint another picture. They were worth that.

#Xavier Thorpe #Xavier Thorpe x reader #Xavier Thorpe imagine #Wednesday #Wednesday x reader #Wednesday imagine #gender neutral reader

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corvidaemnit · 1 year ago

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Hey so can i have some interesting bird facts? I'm writing a story with a character who loves birds and i would like to hear bird facts that i can make the character tell others

YOU ARE MY NEW FAVORITE PERSON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING.

here are some of my favorites off the top of my head!!

- crows can remember faces and hold grudges! not only that, but they can also spread gossip amongst other crows which can be passed down generationally. if you wrong a crow, there’s a chance even its descendants will despise you

- hoatzins are born with small hooked claws on their wings to grab onto branches when they’re chicks! chicks will hold onto branches and, when faced with danger, they can and will drop themselves into water and SWIM to safety!! cool, right? however, as hoatzins mature they shed their claws and lose their ability to swim- as they have no need for those things anymore

- woodpeckers have long tongues that are supported by the ‘hyoid bone’, two thin strips that run through their tongue and wrap all the way around their skull. basically, woodpeckers have long ass tongues that touch their own skull. they also have been prone to using their tongues as self defense; their tongues are long and sticky so they stick it out at other birds to freak them out lmao

- bearded vultures have the strongest stomach acid of any animal in the world. around 90% of their diet consists of pure bone that they swallow and digest whole. on top of that, despite being born snow-white in color, bearded vultures in the wild are often seen with shades of red and orange painted onto their feathers. for purposes ornithologists have yet to understand, these vultures cover themselves in red dirt and other substances to make their feathers a more desirable color. the theory is that they use this to prevent feather degradation, but I like to think they just enjoy being fancy..

- frigatebirds are a huge subject of interest for scientists because nobody knows exactly how they manage to sleep while flying so much. these birds fly for extended periods of time over large bodies of water, and despite never coming in for a landing- they usually end up being fine. the hypothesis is that they actually take 10 second or so long power-naps while mid-flight, only resting part of their brain so that they can still operate their eyes and wings. neat, right?

- oilbirds, who get their name from the fact that historically people have been known to cook them as chicks for their oil, can echolocate like bats!! this fruit-eating little guy is also the only bird in its family, steatornis, which.. literally just translates to ‘fat bird.’ this is because, as chicks, oilbirds are born and raised to be significantly fatter than their parents. oh also, sometimes they scream so loudly and tragically that they’ve earned the nickname ‘guácharo’, roughly meaning “one who laments.”

- the closest living relative to the dodo is the nicobar pigeon! In fact, dodos are even considered a subset (raphinae) within the pigeon/dove family- columbidae. so… in short, dodos were basically big flightless pigeons. the more you know!

- kiwi eggs take up around 15% of their entire body weight, and are actually considered to be the largest eggs in relation to body weight of any other bird…. despite the fact that kiwis are super small. kiwis are also very reproductive, so females tend to lay a lot of eggs in their lifetime.. like.. close to 100. long story short: ouch.

- birds have knees and ankles and they bend pretty much just like ours!

roping back to corvids.. sorry they’re my favorite hehe

- jackdaws and rooks have been known to not only mate for life, but also choose their partners before they even reach sexual maturity. when eventually reaching maturity, as well, they stay by their partner’s side even if faced with continuous reproductive failure. they’ve also been observed keeping familial bonds and forming friendships!! very social and sweet members of the corvidae family

- the common raven has around 79 different vocalizations and scientists don’t even really understand half of them.

- crows have ACCENTS!!! ok so.. not in the way you’re probably thinking, but it’s the closest a bird can Get to an accent!! and it’s pretty damn cool!! depending on where they live, crows will have vocalizations catered specifically to their area’s murder. the vocalizations remain the same, but have a sliiiightly different tone to them. accents!!!!

- crows understand the concept of zero. this may not seem super revolutionary, but considering the fact it took our overall society to figure it out.. that’s pretty damn cool. (obviously societies preceding us like the mayans had an understanding of zero far before the rest of us did, but it’s still pretty neat!!)

SO YEAH!! THERE ARE YOUR BIRD FACTS!!!!! I never get to talk about this so sorry there’s so much— I got excited haha

I have a lot more but I condensed them to this little list of the ones I find the most interesting! hope this helps!!!!

#birds #bird #bird facts #ornithology #daemnthoughts #rambles

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magicandmaybe · 1 year ago

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gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies.

for @bowserbabe from your secret santa! hi, it's been wonderful getting to know you through the occasional asks i sent. i haven't written fanfiction before, although i do write original content soo you're going to be the first person to read this! any and all criticism is welcome, i'm just looking to start writing more from now on! i'm also super grateful for @tmsource for organizing this so i could stop putting off writing and start again! happy new year everyone:)

Teresa Lisbon was not in a good mood. This was made evident by the fact that she was pressing her thumb and index finger on her temple in a desperate attempt to soothe the headache plaguing her. With a defeated sigh, she opened her eyes and made herself look at the notes sprawled over her desk. This was going to take a while.

~~~

The Texan humidity wasn’t doing Cho any favors. He silently cursed the faulty air conditioning in his office as he made his way to his old friend’s desk.

“Any luck with those files?” He asked, hoping Lisbon had struck gold after they had all started reviewing the case files a few hours ago. She looked up, brows furrowed, as if there was a storm brewing right at the bridge of her nose.

“Not yet. It looks like we’ve exhausted all our leads and the case still doesn’t make any sense,” she replied, her exasperation getting the better of her.

The team’s morale had been at an all time low for the past few days; their latest case had left them grasping at straws for new leads.

Cho attempted to change the subject, wondering how Abbott managed to handle days like this and still close cases while he was boss.

“How’s the new recruit?” He asked her.

Lisbon groaned. “Hopeless. I don’t know what he was taught at Quantico but it definitely wasn’t how to canvass an area. I had more lack sending Wylie out into the field to do his job.”

The agency has brought in someone to replace Vega a little after the incident at the diner. Both Cho and Lisbon exchanged a silent look of shared understanding. The loss of Vega had hit the team hard; in terms of both their efficiency and morale.

Her unmatched enthusiasm was a tough act to follow, and the new recruit was far from capable. Lisbon knew that Cho had taken the loss personally, he was more hesitant now, more cautious. Vega had looked up to him and he knew it; and so he let the memory of her serve as a reminder of his duty towards the safety of his team and occasionally, the fact that she used to make him laugh.

She had been irreplaceable but Cho still took to reassuring Lisbon. “He will learn. They all do.” He also made a mental note to have a chat with their new addition later on.

“I know, I know,” Lisbon said impatiently; “But I still can’t get over this case. How can two seemingly unrelated people end up dead in three same place, at the same time and with the same toxins used to poison them runnjng through their blood?”

“Did forensic get back to you in the evidence found at the crime scene?” Cho asked.

Lisbon shook her head. “A dead end. No DNA or prints at the scene. Everything was wiped clean. Toxicology is working on identify in the poison used but they say it looks like nothing they’ve ever seen before.”

Lisbon crossed her arms in annoyance. “We need fresh eyes. A new perspective. We need…” she trailed off not wanting to finish her sentence.

“Jane.” Cho said. And there was the white elephant in the room; the unmissable Jane-sized hole at the agency.

Lisbon had woken up one day to find her husband missing, with a note beside her saying that he had gone for a run and will catch up with her at work. He never showed up.

She went home sick with worry only to find him by the lake with a canvas. He had been trying to paint one of the trees by the lake.

He told her that he wanted to take a break from solving cases. So she had accepted it and they moved on.

Except, the couch by the big, open windows remained empty and forlorn, as Lisbon and Cho looked over at it.

“Go home.” Cho said. “Get some rest. We can start again tomorrow.” Lisbon tried protesting but was met with silence.

~~~

The walk from the doors of the building she worked at to the nearest coffee shop was a short one, but Lisbon could feel her feet dragging behind her in defiance. Yet, it was the sight of a tuft of blond hair that led her to quicken her pace.

“Jane?” She said in disbelief. Her husband turned, a coy smile dancing on his lips.

“Teresa! Fancy seeing you here,” he said.

“Oh please. You knew I was coming. Did Cho call you?”

“Well I happened to be in the neighborhood. And yes, Cho did call me. He said he was concerned.”

“Did he beg you to come back?”

“I could tell he was contemplating it.”

“And so you’ve been standing outside my favourite coffee shop for what, ten minutes?”

“Fifteen actually. Look, I bought you coffee.”

Teresa couldn’t help but smile as she plucked the he coffee cup out of his hands; and with that it felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

~~~

As she sipped her coffee, Teresa stared at his bright blue eyes. She wondered if she will ever get used to seeing them, first thing in the morning. Would she still feel time slow down every time he smiled at her or made her laugh?

Jane looked up from his cup of tea with a questioning look.

“What?”

It took everything in Teresa to stop herself from blushing as she replied,

“Nothing.”

All he did was smile and pull out a book from the small bag he was carrying.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“A book I found at the library today,” he said. He looked at the cover before declaring that it was Pride and Prejudice.

“Austen huh. I never took you for the reading type,” Teresa said, “Let alone a romantic.”

“Why, I’m incredibly romantic,” Jane said, pretending to be deeply offended. Yet, she noted, the smile never left his eyes.

“I saw this on your bookshelf when we visited your old house a few years ago. The spine was cracked and the pages dog eared. You must have loved it,” he said.

She remembered spending her nights rereading her mother’s old and battered copy, hoping she would be transported to Elizabeth Bennett’s world. She had never told him that. Yet he still knew.

“For years I’ve let Red John dictate my every move. Chasing him was my purpose,” he continues, “Until it wasn’t.”

Jane let out a small sigh and continued looking ahead, deep in thought.

“So, what will you do?” Teresa asked him. She would follow him to the ends of the earth if she could, fate be damned.

Jane didn’t hesitate when he replied. He’s as sure of this as he is as sure of her.

“Whatever I feel like doing. I’ve got time.”

He paused and looked at her with a small smile. A smile which could win the hearts of many, which he only reserves for her.

“We’ve got time.”

#aaaaaaaaaaah hello i just wrote my first fic #which is weird bc its so much different from writing original content #anyways be nice and tell me if i did anything wrong im so new to this game #might post on ao3 if i figure out how to #the mentalist #tmsecretsanta2023 #tmsource #jisbon #jane x lisbon #the formatting looks weird i need to figure that out

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immoralimmortals · 19 days ago

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A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 55: Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One (6)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Chapter Summary: Flytraps close once the butterfly lands on sweet nectar.

Author's Note:

Today we're finally closing up this particular song. Zetsu's time has come! I've had this image in my head for a while and I hope it pays off c: The song for this chapter is Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood. Mentioned is Outliars and Hyppocrates: a fun fact about apples, also by Will Wood.

The content warnings are at comparatively mild intensity but do include references to a suicide and to sexuality.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If you don't hate me, then reanimate me

Prove it to me, baby, lightning in my veins

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The intimate nature of this transformation— this merging of bodies and souls— is that of dreams. When two humans make love, as they so innocently say, they refer to the act in much the same way— that is, becoming one person. He’s heard them say so. Mostly in passing, as if he’s not there; once or twice to him directly, attempting to explain the bizarre, emotional nature of mankind and those who which to couple. Is it not merely survival? Desire? Or instinct? No, they insisted. There’s a reason, sometimes, that sex is called love.

And if that’s true, then what candle can that hold to what happens between these three?

It’s dark and bright at the same time as Zetsu and the woman intertwine down to their very cells, melt and malform and swim like twisting currents passing one another. Multiple bodies of water, yet one as they conjoin and weave like fingers interlocking. It didn’t use to feel this special; invigorating, perhaps, but the novelty wore off fast as travel became a chore, arising from the cold earth to spy rather than revel in this incredible thing that white and black can do together.

But now she’s here.

And that changes everything.

Only many years of practice tells Zetsu that they are now under sunlight and their bodies are not literally one— and barely so. She’s still as close in his chest as when they started, eyes shut in fear of the unknown and incomprehensible, and her hands grip him so tight. Just like that day, the first day they spoke face to face…

She then, too, gripped him for safety even when he was feared.

“Wake up, little ghost,” the lighter one whispers. And she does, cracking open an eye and then looking up at him. The way the plant on his shoulders spread apart around his head, looking like teeth ready to close…

She remembers when they did. When someone died. And therefore remembers what he said about eating the dead.

A staggering step back, quick and then soon apologetic, a flush on her face and fingertips hiding her mouth. Does she regret being so nervous about him, he wonders? No.

“Ah— wow.” Is she impressed? She's certainly startled, but is that the same thing? “Thank you. Zetsu.”

No, but she may regret being close to the likes of him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

These instincts I've managed to stave mean

Monsters must be people too, so oh geez

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Who’d want to be human anyway?

Who pilots all these crude machines?

She hums to herself, just under her breath. It isn’t the kind of moment where she sings big and loud, for others to hear. No, it’s just for her own heart and ears. It’s a strange sort of peace; it feels like the air above water that hasn’t moved for a long time. Stagnant, begging for so much as even a small breeze and getting none. It’s the kind of peace that begs to be broken. That’s why she sits on the ancient bench and mumbles sweet dreams.

Is it even like Zetsu is there?

Snip.

Pink painted nails with ease pinch the neck of a newborn blossomed daisy. As he’s seen many do, the monster hands the woman a flower. She does so love flowers, doesn’t she? Even the dead ones. How fitting.

The split man watches as half-lidded eyes sit on the rusty but smooth wiring, old metal warmed by the sun beaming down in this private little paradise he’s gifted a strange, lonely woman. She doesn’t stop for him; she simply reaches up and takes, takes and takes like it was hers to hold and have anyways. Young grass curls around the edges of her boots as they tap an inaudible rhythm. Lonely...how can she be lonely when everyone is her friend? The less experienced voice in his head wonders if that means they’re not her friends at all. Friends are so often burdens, he’s seen, and there’s no way a mere girl can carry the whole world. In turn, the one more mature tells him that he doesn’t know; maybe affection isn’t quite as simple as that. Far from them to know, of all tongues on this terrible earth.

Why'd you come into this world or come out that way?

Like freaks of nurture, well, isn't it funny?

“Funny?” he humors her, as he’s watched others do when she sings.

The sound of Zetsu’s higher-pitched voice makes the woman perk up, accidentally plucking the petal of a flower she’s been so thoughtlessly manhandling. The nerd is far too delighted to indulge in something way too perfect to pass up, so this fact slips under her nose.

“Well, not ‘ha ha’ funny, but you know…” she smirks, absolute geek she is not sharing this exchange in itself is still quoting the song. What a joy it is, even if private and childish. “...Funny.” Alas, it is only now the performer has seen her error. Eyes widen and lips part as if she really is, truly, aghast at what she’s done. “Oh…!” she whines so sadly, cupping the flower head with her palm. “Oh no… I didn’t mean— ….!”

How bizarre. Is this another show, too, as the lady so often puts on for others? “Why mourn it? We already took it out of the ground… It’ll die regardless.”

“It’s—” She tilts her head and purses her lips. Zetsu has not caught himself staring at her lips like this before; they're full and just a little bit rosy. “—I don’t know. Logically you’re right, but…” The flower is twirled by the stem, the yellow center right where the sun is in the sky, blocking it and glowing with its rays.“...Something about not meaning to,” she ventures. “At least not yet.”

Zetsu doesn’t have anything to say to that, not immediately. After a second of silence, she exhales and mumbles again as she languishes so beautifully, pitifully on the garden bench entwined with thin vines that may be older than she is.

I am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you the red-hot sky

And if you're believers, then why would you grieve for the dead

Instead of a devil that you never prayed for?

How long has it been, he asks himself? Half an hour. Why so impatient? Because…

…

...He expected something to have happened by now, he supposes. Well, maybe he needs to make it happen himself. Go on. Ask her about herself:

“...Is that how you feel? Ghost?”

She stops mid-breath to continue the next line, once more glancing to her guardian. She looks at him, puzzled, and he merely waits like a statue— a headstone, a tombstone, a gargoyle in her graveyard. She swallows. “What do you mean?”

“Plucked too soon.”

Oh.

The muscles underneath her skin tense, needing no other reminder of the secrets he’s dangled over her head. “I guess so,” the woman decides to say. It’s true after all— she doesn’t know. Would anyone? “You said we’re alone here, right?”

“I don’t lie,” he lies, but not about this particular instance.

And yet she hesitates. Something between only him and her is still difficult to get over. Whatever it is, the obstacle is overcome, at least enough so to keep talking. “You ask me that, but you know I did it to myself. Right?”

Now who’s the one that’s not making sense? Zetsu’s full eye glances down at her, lid hooding, though the mere circle over black, too, seems to glimmer with curiosity. How obstinate of her. How does he get this to work…? It’s so easy for everyone else, so there must be a way. Just as a few questions and then the relationship follows suit. What else does he have to give to make her give…?

“Zetsu?”

Just keep pressing on, he decides.

“That doesn’t change the question,” retorts the amalgamate, speaking deep. “Do you think you died too soon?”

...Well that’s a hell of an inquiry if she’s ever gotten one. Yet, somehow, a grin.

“I ask myself that...every day.” And then, with the slightest of a sharp edge: “Don’t you know?I don’t know. If I didn’t end up here, then I think maybe my answer might be...easier to find. Right? Another place, another time, another fucking world.” ...Her smile wavers. “But...I am here. And I like being here. So I don’t know. What do you think?”

“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“...Fair enough.”

“Would you go back?”

She doesn’t hesitate. Not a bit. The smirk grows upon on her face, and the performer tells Zetsu from the bottom of her scarring heart:

“No. Never.”

The next lyrics fall from her lips like turning a water faucet— easy and inevitable. Her eyes shut away too soon for his tastes.

Too weird to love, too scared to die

Too alien to take you home

Horrified at the sight of my reflection in your eyes

I don't belong there

He looks down at her and wonders, deep down, if these lyrics are on purpose. The idea of it bites him. “What is that song about?” he asks, knowing full well. It matters instead what she chooses to say, after all.

...She pauses again. So many questions today...but the woman tries her best to patient. Fingertips again play with the petals in an attempt to keep busy, to stop thinking of the existential dread she's swimming through just to discuss the fact this musician is truly, somehow, dead. But when her kindness falls upon ears as ancient as the planet itself, this woman sounds so mean and coy. “Not fitting in where you’re expected to.”

And that’s all it takes for this dance to end.

“What do I have to do," a dark voice intrudes unexpectedly, "To make you love me?”

Her fingers haven’t learned their lesson. Another pristine white petal tears from its sunny middle.

It isn’t often that Black Zetsu speaks before he thinks— much less before White beats him to the punch. The fact he’s asking this makes it all the more strange to himself. Has he ever said that word before, either half? Love. Love…

Apparently she knows love, even if nothing else, and gatekeeps it away. Hoards it. Divies it up like she's collected the tax and keeping it all except for the few who find her favor. It's disgusting, and the idea fuels frustrated, hate-soaked words. “I’ve danced with you. You sang for me. I give you flowers, and safety. Everything, ghost, that you could ask for has been bestowed, yet you spurn me and act like it is nothing. I’m courting you— I am courting you the EXACT way you did. What else do I need to do?”

And then most of all, a harshness directed at them both for being so stupid:

“I thought you loved everyone.”

Mouth opens...closes...opens… Process repeats as her heart freezes mid-beat. If her melody breaks the silence, then he’s smashing it apart with a closed fist. “I didn’t know you felt that way—”

“Daft girl," the deep voice spits. Though that round eye does not change, it still burns through her skin, the way it glares. "It doesn’t matter how I feel.”

“What—?!”

“I’ve seen it. You reserve a piece of yourself for everyone who asks and even those who don’t.” All these times, lurking, watching, knowing. He’s endured the passing seasons. Her naivety in spring, vibrancy in summer, pensiveness in autumn and now, even, winter’s hollowing sorrow. Maybe taking her here, so far away from it all, like no one else existed, was just him trying to bring back the naivety… Maybe he's the one that's been the fool.

“I thought," she stammers, as what can you say to that? "You just wanted leverage against me.”

And he still does, just not for the reasons she thinks. The split man makes it clear, this time with a soft, aching voice. “If you hate me, just say so.”

Pitiful, big eyes begin to tear up. “I don’t hate you…!”

“Don’t lie.”

“But I don’t!”

“Not even after everything? Blackmail, taunting, threatening to take it all away?”

“Zetsu— ! Zetsu, that’s WHY I have mixed feelings about all this! You’re split in more than just your voices, you know. I don’t...always know what to do with what you give me. You’re saying you want to love me?! AND you think you hate me?! What is it? We gotta be clear. Okay? So you want me to...love you?”

“No. Yes.”

This is pretty overwhelming, for obvious reasons. How the hell do you get out of this? A man with a line down the middle is as literally as possible the embodiement of mixed messages. Love? Hate? Where did this COME from?!

...

The image of him sharpens around the edges as the sun casts its light so perfectly above his shoulders. The expression he wears— yes, even the empty side— it is...familiar.

Familiar as the day he confessed he didn't tell anyone the truth. She always presumed there was a reason for that she'd never comprehend. Everything starts to hit her like a tree tossed down in a hurricane. Watching...waiting...wanting. He's always been there, even when she never asked him to be. Therefore...he's seen everything, even the darkest corners she wouldn't even dare poke at with a broom.

“Zetsu…" the woman continues after a steadying breath. "...If you want me to love you...I mean...I can. Is that what you want?” Repetition is necessary, lest she misunderstands. “Do you want me to love you?” And more importantly: “Do you...love...me?”

…

“I don’t know,” one half says. And then the other adds: “I think so.”

“So you’ve been doing all this...just to feel it too? See if you feel it? Zetsu...! That sounds so...lonely.”

There’s that word again. Lonely. How can someone be so lonely when they’re never alone?

“Zetsu…" the performer continues, setting the flower aside and folding her hands over her lap. "Forgive me… I-I’m just rather taken aback.”

“At least one?” he asks. She blinks.

“One...what?”

“A kiss?”

Oh.

He’s closer now. She hadn't even noticed. But her hand grips the edge of the seat; did she move in as well, to meet him so intimately? God, does she even love him?

Candlelight. That's what his eyes remind her of. Even in the daytime, somehow it’s just like when he found her in the haunted house. No— like outside of it. Holding her close, protecting her from the wind, so calm and so sure even in the heart of a raging storm. A frozen heart, she finds, is beginning to ache with how fast it's come to race. Once more in disbelief, she has to make sure...:

"You...you want...a kiss?”

Somehow the silence tells her yes. Please.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I could drink your blood

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What a conundrum. Is he just yearning because he’s seen her give and he’s received none? Is it her, or is it just the way he's seen her treat the other Akatsuki? This is a dangerous line, and she knows it. Dangerous if he thinks of her as a vessel for what he wants, an object.

But how can she tell him no if he’s, perhaps...never felt love before?

Slowly, carefully, Zetsu gets on one knee and looms over her. There’s a twitch on the white side— the way he looks down, then up, then down. Has he always seemed so hungry…? Has he always ached so much?

“All this time…” Stupid girl, can't make up her mind. “...You’ve waited to see...if…?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Me?” the girl checks in disbelief.

“You.” And he can’t help but add: “And I don’t know why, either.”

If that’s not a good enough reason to try, then what is? Desire like this is the stuff of fairy tales... It’s so simple that it’s like he’s telling her a bedtime story. And she made him feel that way? So beautiful yet so bad...?

Maybe a kiss is the least she can do. That's how she comes to the choice. A girl will abide, give the patient man his perceived due. Chin tilts forward, despite the fear, and eyes close just about when he comes in. It's...delicate. Just there...barely there, as she lets him lead. He smells like a greenhouse and dusty yellow pollen, just as he always has, just as he did in the few moments he's managed to hold her. The idea— fantasy, really— comes to her mind that this kiss has the taste of honey or nectar. It’s...sweet.

He’s seen them do it, so he has no true dread of how to behave. Press against her, move your lips just a little, make sure she feels supported. But it doesn’t matter if he’s doing it right, he convinces himself. There’s nothing right about anyone here. All that he needs is just one kiss. Just one. As long as he can.

…

...But a starving man quickly craves ever more.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If you let me, baby

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Kisame performed this action, he saw, so gently— closed-mouth like the chivalrous knight he is. But the others were rougher. Why not indulge? Why not give it a try? It begins by moving a bit more fluidly, dragging the flesh onto one another. Her face is soft. Her eyelashes tickle. He should get closer, feel it even more.

A nearly urgent press happens and now it’s his turn to hum, though it buzzes only the inside of her mouth. Two hands— black and white alike— come to cup her cheeks, lest she get too wiggly; his little specter needs to stay nicely put. Her tongue tastes like the others he’s eaten...but better. She feels the pressure of the shared body upon hers increase in a few places— his torso leaning full weight on hers, painted fingers with a ring place thumbs to hold her jaw steady; but, with the sharpness of a knife, she feels it most around her lower lip.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Drain you of your love

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tighter.

Harder.

Zetsu's teeth enclose around spongy muscles. A desperate muffle as he begins to bite—

Zetsu!, the poor woman urges him to stop, but it sounds like nonsense as the beast latches. Her hands on his shoulders begin to squeeze and shake. It hurts...!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Until you hate me

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The monster finally lets go, and she's unwitting if he stopped for her comfort or if he merely had his fill.

The garden bench rings its old, hollow tone as she falls on her spine like one would freefall onto their bed. The gasping for air— that’s hers, she realizes, and his. But one thing is merely hers alone. Trembling, fingertips dip into the sticky moisture upon her face; then, they retract.

Upon her hand, held up for display between her and where Zetsu gawks, is blood. Of course there is. He already knows.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I will drink your blood

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What does he think?! Is he scared of himself, just as Kisame is? Afraid to hurt her again, like Kakuzu? What does he feel?! What...?!

…

No.

He smiles.

Unlike everything else, his reaction is his own.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

'Til your lips turn blue

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For the first time in her life, she sees not only white but black grin too. It never occurred to her that it could. His teeth are sharper than needles, brighter than polished swords.

...Disregarding the red that slicks them, of course.

There’s a million things on her mind as her very blood drips from his face back to onto her own as he closes in again, closer...closer...closer. Leaning over. Grinning, wider, wider, wider. Black hand holds her by the jaw again as if daring her to squirm, and a shared tongue drags over her skin so as to clean up his mess. Eyes squeeze shut, shoulders tense as her end, perhaps, has finally arrived. All alone, no one else to know where her body is. How long will he wait to eat her?

Apparently he can't wait a second more.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Drain you of your love

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

…

But the story doesn't conclude so easily. What comes instead of clenching fangs is one purely innocent, closed-mouth and chaste press, gentle and mindful, just as they started, just as he’s seen her do for someone else. It’s the one she seems to like the most, after all. Despite all the flavors of passion, her favorite seems to be simply and utterly sweet.

He can make it more fun than just that.

“I love you,” he confirms. She isn’t entirely sure what his kind of love is, if she’s so delicious as to entice the man to take a bite to eat before her corpse is even cold.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

If you

Want

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#akatsuki x reader #akatsuki x oc #zetsu x reader #zetsu x oc #songfic #aswtn fic

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rinwellisathing · 5 months ago

Text

Paint The Lines, Cut The Flesh: Part 31 second half

Halsin and Jaheira by now had a small group of civilians between the two of them, Jaheira taking the lead, her knowledge of the city unimpeachable. Halsin brought up the rear protecting those who couldn't fight as they made their way into The Upper City. They paused a moment as Jaheira's attention turned to a familiar voice amongst a throng of dying illithids. “You try and make a pawn of Minsc!? You try and hide away Boo to conceal your wrong-doings?” A powerfully built man in leathers felled mind flayer after mindflayer with a large, heavy sword. Jaheira could not fully hide the relief on her face at the sight of him. “Minsc!” She called out as the last illithid fell to his blade. The man's eyes widened as he saw her. “Jaheira? But you were dead! A tricksy creature took your shape and when Boo discovered its treachery, with its dying breath it said it had killed you!” “I am much harder to kill than that, Minsc. You know this!” She chuckled. “But I saw you overwhelmed by cultists, how have you not joined these things?” She gestured to the mindflayers at his feet, their strange ichorous blood pooling. “Ha! Jaheira, Minsc's brain is to smooth for any slithering, crawling little beastie!” He paused a moment, looking to a small ball of fluff at his shoulder. “Eh...except you, Boo!” “Join us, then. We need to get these people to safety.” She nodded towards the group, who seemed unwilling to move until she or Halsin said so, relying entirely on them. With three heroes, their progress moved far more swiftly and they found themselves nearing The Watch Citadel. Halsin could only hope Jaheira's happy reunion boded well for his own and that Sentry was already inside. ---

“Gabraela!” Minthara breathed as the three adventurers passed by a group of mind flayers trampled and frosted with rime on the ground. The tall, imposing tiefling stood in her bloodied armor beside an impossibly beautiful elven woman with long, thick black hair. Several cloaked figures stood beside them. “The Absolute loyalists have usurped our temple. They do not realize this thing will never realize father's perfect end. We rounded up those still loyal to our father and have been fighting them.” She explained, her haunting deep purple eyes full of fury. They softened a bit as she gazed at the drow. “I am glad you're safe though...” “Oh! Please tell us, friends...how is dear brother Sentry? He may be a traitor to our lauded father, but he is still my dear baby brother at the end of it all.” The elf spoke up, batting her long dark eyelashes at Octavia and Gale. Octavia blushed a bit, hunching her shoulders and lowering her head at the attention. Gale seemed visibly uncomfortable as the woman's dark eyes searched his face. “He was well the last time I saw him. He went to confront the brain.” Octavia managed finally. “I'd ask you to help us guide civilians to safety, but...I'm not so sure that's a wise idea to ask of Bhaalists.” Gale wrinkled his nose. “A fair point. Rest assured we will at least secure the streets. Baldur's Gate is our home too and our temple lies beneath its streets.” Gabraela nodded. Their conversation was interrupted by the intrusion of another wave of mind flayers. “You should run.” The beautiful elf giggled and as Minthara took one last look towards Gabraela, she watched the two begin to transform, bones snapping and cracking sickeningly. Gabraela's lower body split and extended, a sinewy, skinless horse body expanding beneath her hips. The skin burst from her upper body and her long white hair fell out in clumps, leaving a raw horned skull with purple light glowing in the sockets. Four lean, powerful arms run through with black and pus-yellow veins held a massive scythe as the dripping, skinless horror began to trample enemies.

The beautiful elf's body began to extend and cover in scales and what appeared to be blood red moss and mushrooms. A pair of insect-like wings sprouted from its back and its eyes went fully black. Its body was like that of a mantis interwoven with a small dragon or a wyvern and the torso of a beautiful woman rose up from it, covered in tiers of fungi and with the long scythe like arms of a mantis. She grinned wickedly, baring terrible needle like fangs and rushed another group of enemies. Octavia gazed in wide eyed fascination, her leather journal open as she scribbled down what she saw. “So any Bhaalspawn can embody The Slayer? And they're all different?” She breathed. “I had only seen Gabraela's slayer form before and only while fading in and out of consciousness as she freed me from Moonrise.” Minthara replied.

“I think I've seen enough Bhaalspawn to last me a life time if I'm honest.” Gale admitted with a shudder as he looked towards the Citadel in the distance. “We should keep moving. The others should be waiting for us there.” ---- Lae'zel dashed up the stairs of the Citadel followed by Shadowheart and Karlach. The Siren's Cove pirates and Priestesses of Umberlee had assured the party that they would hold the docks and urged them to hurry to the rendezvous point and every wasted second, Lae'zel worried that something would go wrong, that Kroger would be unable to free Orpheus, or that he would fall before the chance arose. As the party made their way forward, they encountered another group. “Hey, not to pretend I'm some mind flayer expert, but that mind flayer they've got with them doesn't look like The Emperor.” Karlach pointed in confusion to the being that floated near Kroger as the party that had confronted the brain staggered to a halt just a short distance from them. “It could be Omeluum, the shape of his head is similar.” Shadowheart suggested. “Although the robes are different...Do illithids often change their clothes? I mean, if they're just a projection and all that.”

Lae'zel peered in confusion. This did not bode well, it should have been Orpheus at Kroger's side, not some Ghaik, emperor or not. She stepped forward, about to address her brother, to ask him what had happened, but she was beaten to it. Kithrak Voss looked more furious than Lae'zel had ever seen another githyanki in her life as he stormed up to Kroger, eyes wild with rage. “You held the future of our people in your hands, boy! And you ruined it!” He shouted. Kroger winced but stood firm, neither shrinking away or trembling like he might have back at Creche K'liir. “How dare you parade around with this abomination!” Kroger breathed deeply. “Voss, this 'abomination' is our people's salvation, our people's bravest hero.” He began, but Orpheus brushed past him, eyes on Voss. “Voss! Gith'ka tavki krash'ht” Orpheus addressed him softly. In that moment, Voss' eyes widened in disbelief and he held out a hand to his fellow dragon riders. “Stand down, the true heir has spoken.” Voss cursed, a look of pain on his face as he sheathed his sword. “No...it cannot be....Orpheus, what's happened to you?” He approached him warily. “A sacrifice had to be made, we need to end The Grand Design at all costs.” Kroger spoke calmly, although his guilt still ate at him, the way Voss looked at Orpheus, Kroger dared to allow his eyes for one moment to look back to where Wyll stood. “The duty fell to me, and when it is complete, I must die.” Orpheus explained. “This is the way it must be.” “But what of our people? Our liberation?” Voss replied, Kroger could see there was much he was holding back and he wondered just what the knight's true relation to the prince had been despite himself. “Our people have held my name in their imaginations for years, Voss. Tell them of my fate, some may scoff or dismiss it, but others will believe and will be empowered by it. Our people will be free, you and the others here today will spread my story to them.” Orpheus looked to Kroger and then to Lae'zel. “Yes, of course, we will make sure everyone knows of your sacrifice, my prince.” Lae'zel nodded, striking a solemn salute with her sword. “This will be my oath.”

“Will you help us, Voss?” Kroger asked, looking to the knight. “We must end the grand design, I know this isn't how you envisioned things, this isn't what you wanted, but...” “We stand a chance at defeating the brain. This young hero and his companions hold the key. You must answer to him as you would to me, Voss.” Orpheus gestured to Kroger. He paused a moment, lowering his head and closing his eyes. “But your majesty!” Voss reached out to Orpheus. The illithid gently brushed his hand against Voss' extended hand. “ Your friendship, your constancy – when I fell to despair, they elated me. Thank you, my friend. Sha va zai.” Voss nodded his head with resignation, forcing down the emotion threatening to well up. “Sha va zai.” Kroger looked away, the guilt threatening to overwhelm him now. He told himself this was the right thing to do, the only right thing. There was no other way. He hadn't known what he was taking away from Voss, he couldn't have. “We need to keep moving, the brain won't wait for us to explain everything perfectly.” Jaina interrupted, nodding towards the darkening sky. “Hells, if we could just broadside the damned thing....but what ship could reach it?” “Perhaps it needn't be a ship.” Voss offered finally, looking to the red dragons hovering just beyond the walk way.

Jaina grinned, looking to Lae'zel and then to Kroger. “Never thought of sky pirates, but damn. Your people have the grit for it. I'd say yes!” ---- As the party parted ways from the Githyanki forces, they arrived outside a large set of doors leading to a massive entry hall. Inside were hundreds of people huddled in fear, but alongside the frightened civilians, there stood a host of allies as well. “Zev!” Sentry grinned widely at the sight of the older paladin, rushing over to him. “By the broken god, you're still around!” “Yes, I thought about what you said, Sentry. My Hellriders and I have one last chance to make things right and if this is to be our last stand, at least we'll go out in a blaze of glory.” Zevlor replied, placing a hand on Sentry's shoulder. “Nope! You're gonna survive and redeem yourselves in everyone's eyes and then you're gonna buy me a drink and we're gonna swap stories.” Sentry insisted with a grin. “Oh you found your way here! Nibbles, my sweet boy.” Jaina cooed, hurrying over to the owl bear, now clad in heavy armor. She scratched affectionately at the fur around the sides of his beak and grinned. “And ready for battle too!” She looked to his side to see Dammon standing there. “Your work is excellent, as ever. When this is all done, there's something I'll want to talk to you about.” She nodded towards Karlach off in the distance and Dammon nodded in return.

“Let's put our heads together and see what we can do.” He agreed. “I found some broken Watchers while I made my way here and I think I'm on to something.” “You have done well, little former Sharran.” Aylin beamed with pride at Shadowheart. “Did I not promise my love and I would come to your aid when you needed us most?” She clapped her on the shoulder. “And not a moment too soon, Dame Aylin.” Shadowheart smiled. “It will be an honor to fight by your side again, that brain won't know what hit it.” “There is a Selunite enclave not far from the city, Shadowheart, perhaps when this is all over we could host you there? I'm sure there are a lot of questions you have about your people when this is through.” Isobel offered with a sincere smile. “You've come quite a long way from the scowling, wet dog of a creature I met at The Last Light.” “I can scowl a bit more if you like.” Shadowheart rolled her eyes. “Father....”Wyll smiled as he approached Duke Ravengard, standing discussing the upcoming battle with Councilor Florrick. “Wyll, you've shown yourself to be a hero this day, the hero our city deserves. Only tell me what you need and you will have The Flaming Fist to follow you into battle.” He smiled at him. There was pride in his eyes. Wyll felt his heart surge in his chest at this feeling of being seen, of being understood by his father. All he had ever wanted was to protect his city, and to make his father proud of him. “Thank you father. We will defeat this Nether Brain and restore the city.” He assured him. “When you return, there is a matter I want to discuss...It is far past time you were able to return home, my son, and to the position you deserve.” Ulder began with a nod to Florrick.

“Wyll, your father intends for you to remain here in the city, as Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate.” She explained. “It is time for a change, and you would be a change for the better. Please consider it.” Ravengard nodded his head to his son. Wyll simply stood there, dumbstruck. This was beyond any thing he had ever expected, and in truth, he couldn't even be sure if this was what he wanted. Finally free of Mizora, he could at last live his life on his own terms, with Jaina and Karlach...There were still so many adventures to be had, there were so many people beyond Baldur's Gate who needed him. He wasn't sure what choice he ought to make, he looked to Jaina deep in conversation with Dammon, and to Karlach, who had finally approached Sentry. “Hey soldier...” Karlach gave a grudging nod of her head. “Well, that's certainly a step up from 'ass hole'” Sentry gave a small smile. “End of the world got you sentimental?” “It's not the end of the world, you prick.” Karlach shot back, giving his shoulder a shove. “But look, I could waste so much of the little time I have left being pissed at you, hating you, but I don't want to. In the end, it doesn't matter what you did or what you deserve, I deserve better than to lose my last few hours being pissed off....so I forgive you.” She frowned. “Not for you, but for me.”

“Fair.” Sentry nodded. “You don't have to accept it, but for what it's worth, I am sorry...This is all my fault at the end of the day, and I can't just tell you some stupid little platitude like 'oh, Gortash manipulated me and I see now I never really loved him'. You deserve better than a lie. So I'm sorry for what he did to you, I'm sorry I love him regardless, and I'm sorry for what I did too. Sorry that it hurt you, anyway.” “That's a fucked up apology, mate....yeah, I'd be kinda dumb to accept it, but still, at least you're honest.” Karlach held out her hand. Sentry gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Well, this is our last chance before the final push, I feel like our heroes should say something.” Jaheira nodded towards Kroger, Jaina, and Sentry. “Oh...um...I'm not one for grand speeches.” Kroger protested. “Go on, brother! You must at least try!” Octavia spoke up encouragingly from her place by the door way. Kroger cleared his throat and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, all those eyes on him, he could practically feel them. But he focused his thoughts and gave it a try. “You are frightened, your city is overrun by Ghaik and a malevolent being has cast its shadow over your home. But when things are darkest, we must look for the light. There are always bright spots if we know where to find them. In this darkness, that light is eachother..and...I suppose...the enduring willingness to fight back.” He trailed off. Jaina caught onto Kroger's struggle and picked up. “I have lived in this city for seven years now, not a long time, but that is long enough to see that you are strong, you are resilient! You are a city that stubbornly sat atop the strong hold of a god of murder, a cloister of darkness, and a vampire lord's slaughter pits, but that has never stopped the people here from living their lives and pushing on ahead. You are home to one of Umberlee's greatest servants and one of her most glorious temples, you are the favored port of so many of her chosen champions...and I want you all to know that you are under her protection as well as ours in this moment.” She looked to Sentry.

“I....” He began, pausing a moment. “Fuck....Enver was good at this, not me....” He murmured. “I'm not good at speeches, which, you know, a paladin probably should be, we're knights in shining armor, right? But that's not what wins a fight like this, if I went up against this thing on my own with just a sword and Ilmater's name on my lips, I would get pulped. I would get pulped and people would panic, and it would all be over.” He looked at the crowd around him, the looks of surprise and disbelief on the faces of many of the civilians. “But that doesn't mean it's all over right now! Because I'm not facing that thing alone.” His eyes fell to Zevlor. “It's too common that people dump all their problems on one person and then that person thinks it's their responsibility to save the world all on their own, it breaks you down, it overwhelms you...It steals the best things from you and forces you into this state where all you can do is just try to survive and hope you don't fuck up too badly. But it doesn't have to be that way! Baldur's Gate, you are going to be alright, we are going to take this Nether Brain down because there are a lot of us!” He could see now. Aylin, Florrick, Dammon, an arcane projection of Rolan. Zevlor was still here, Halsin and Jaheira and...shit, that was Minsc...from the stories.... “We play to our strengths, we do what we're best at, we join forces and we kick this thing's ass!” “Yes! Minsc is most adept in the kicking of evil's butt!” The large, rather enthusiastic ranger beside Jaheira whooped with glee, raising his hands and clapping them enthusiastically. “Exactly! We do this together!” Sentry pumped his fist. “We do this together and we live to see tomorrow and we keep on keeping on, like Baldurians do!”

The applause started slow and hesitant, but it was there and soon it began to rise through the room, filling the enclosed space with a roar of approval. Sentry managed a small smile as he took a few steps back and turned, slinking from the crowd to go join Halsin for a moment. “Well...uh....as heroic speeches go, I'm thinking that was MAAAAAYBE a three if I'm being generous? Hm?” He asked as he leaned against the druid. “No matter what you thought of how it sounded, you spoke the truth, Sentry. I know better than most the cost of placing a burden squarely on your own shoulders alone.” Halsin smiled approvingly, his arm gently sliding around Sentry's shoulder, holding him reassuringly. “You taught me that I would need to rely on others, to accept help. Without you I never could have stopped The Shadow Curse.” “You could have, I think...it just would have taken a really, really long time and you might've had to bring Kagha or someone else much less pleasant to be around than me.” Sentry grinned, nudging Halsin playfully. “If I'm honest, I'd sooner have brought a trained squirrel with me than Kagha, there are some torments even I couldn't bear.” He laughed. “So she was awful before the whole refugee situation too, then?” Sentry asked, relaxing in Halsin's embrace, allowing himself this one moment to feel safe. Halsin winced and paused a moment. “I wouldn't exactly say awful, but she was quite comfortable voicing opinions I found abhorrent....we...disagreed...on Silvanus' teachings to a near irreconcilable extent.” “Fair, fair...I certainly 'disagreed' on Ilmater's teachings with a lot of the prissy upper city boys in my training class back at the temple.” Sentry shrugged. “You know, I'm not much for droning speeches and posturing, but that was far less tedious than the type I'm used to. Good work.” Astarion grinned, approaching the two. “But in all seriousness, try not to get pulped, would you? I'd feel just awful if I had even less to live for when all this is over.” Sentry motioned the pale elf closer and pulled him into the embrace as well. “You'll still have me. Death is cheap and I'm really hard to kill, remember?”

“Well, assuming Withers sticks around after all this.” Astarion replied, though he rested in Sentry's arms, his head against the paladin's chest as he took a moment to allow the events of the day to wash over him. “I saw you talking to Sentry....Are you alright?” Jaina asked as she approached Karlach, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah...I think I am. It's like I told him, I've got maybe hours left to live and I don't want to spend them being pissed off, I deserve more than that.” She nodded, gently resting her hands on Jaina's hips. “I want to think of you...and of Wyll...not of how gods damned unfair everything turned out.” She leaned down, pressing her forehead to Jaina's, a little hiss of steam as her warm flesh touched the chilly, sea slick flesh of Jaina's head. “Hey...if you guys have a kid, name her after me, huh?” Jaina gave a small smile, her fingertips brushing Karlach's cheek. “Well, that would be pretty weird considering you're still going to be around, can you imagine how confusing?” “Jaina....we both know I won't be...I'm not going back to Avernus. I'm never going back to Avernus.” Karlach replied, holding her tighter. “What if you didn't have to go alone?” Wyll stepped up beside her, his arm around her shoulder. “What? But Wyll, you and Jaina...there has to be a wedding and then I bet they'll make you a king or something, at least nobility, after all this...” Karlach turned her head to look at him in disbelief. “Weddings take forever!” Jaina shook her head. “Planning is SOOOO long. On the island, it took a year or more for something formal! Most people just get married in the heat of battle, like aboard a ship in a storm.”

“And look, we're in the heat of battle right now...well, just about to be anyway.” Wyll nodded his agreement. “And as to the being a king or nobility, gods below! Nothing could be worse! I'll fight by your side instead of sitting hearing petitioners and going to boring feasts and meetings any day.” “And besides, who knows? Maybe Avernus is just the place to stave off coral lung just a little longer.” Jaina added. “I think we should all go.” “You'd really come with me, knowing how awful it is?” Karlach looked back and forth between the two of them. “Well, it'll certainly take more than one person to take down an archdevil, three seems like as good a number as any.” Jaina nodded. “Besides, I don't think I'm quite done with Mizora, I would love to pay her a little social call when all is said and done.” The tiefling cracked her knuckles with a shark-like grin. “I've had enough of that woman to last a life time, but I do hear The River Styx is lovely this time of year and the banks are an excellent picnic spot.” Wyll joked. “Guys...thank you....” Karlach bit her lip, eyes glistening as she held them both close to her.

Octavia smiled at Gale as she looked around at everyone gathered in the room. “You know, when I was a little girl back at the creche, I never imagined I would be able to observe so many istik in one place.” She was still writing in her notebook as she sat by his side, her head against his chest, feeling the thrum of magic beneath his skin. “I want to thank you for being kind to me, for letting me get close.”

Gale chuckled, running a hand gently through Octavia's pale hair. “Is this where you tell me you plan to whisk me away to your creche and perform experiments? Because I have to warn you, I'm not entirely sure the orb will stay dormant under a scalpel.” “No!” Octavia gave him a playful shove. “I am serious! Most people chased me away or my questions bothered them, but not you.” She continued earnestly. “You had questions too, you cared about who I was, who my people are...you got to know Lae'zel and Kroger...and now I want to get to know the people closest to you a bit better too.” She smiled gently. “And that is why when this is all over, I want to go to Waterdeep with you. I want to get to know Tara, I want to meet this infamous 'Morena Dekarios'.” Gale laughed, scratching the back of his neck and blushing a bit. “Ah! Well, I must say, I am certain mother will be glad to hear it, she would like you a lot, I think....I just hope you're prepared for her. She may have a little notebook of her own prepared.” Octavia smiled. “A woman after my own heart, I think we will get along famously.” ---- The moment of respite passed by too quickly and Sentry, Jaina, Kroger, Wyll, and Astarion stepped out into the chaos and bloodshed of The Grand Design in progress yet again, Orpheus at their side, making their way deeper into the ruins of the upper city. As they passed the bloodied bodies of patriars, their faces still twisted into expressions of terror, Sentry was reminded of Tomi's favorite story of the night she'd slaughtered her family and come to the temple of Bhaal. He looked at every face and imagined each one a perfect mirror of Tomi's unsettling perfection with the last one standing gazing down in her blood stained gown and smirking. He had loved that story when he first came to the temple.

He could see as he looked beyond the bodies to the ruined buildings so many places he recognized. The restaurant he had gone with Enver on the first...well...he supposed...date. The book shop that had been such a disappointment with its lack of copper dreadfuls. Oh, Vanthampur Manor, he almost chuckled at the memory of the meeting he'd attended there with Enver, he wondered privately how that deal had panned out in his absence. Not well, he supposed, considering that Baldur's Gate was still very much not overrun with Zariel's forces and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the Vanthampurs since he'd been back in the cities. “Damn, I kind of liked that lady too, she was funny.” “What are you talking about?” Jaina raised an eyebrow. “What lady?” “Oh, no, just something I was remembering, I haven't been to the upper city in a long time.” he replied as they picked their way across the bodies and debris. Every now and then a choke point of cultists cropped up in their way, but a quick call to arms brought the fury of their allies down. Sentry had to admit, he was particularly impressed by Rolan's contribution, staring with pride and respect at the murderous fire storm that charred their enemies to ash and swept them away. “We're nearly there...just a little further, I think one last climb.” Kroger informed them as he stared up at a tall tower, at the top of which a protrusion almost like a spinal chord hung. “I am very much not looking forward to the climb, though.” “The trick is not to look down.” Wyll gave him a dashing smile.

“Easy enough to say, but in practice...” The githyanki gulped as he watched Sentry begin his ascent, followed by Jaina. The climb wore on their already aching bodies and the height was dizzying. Sentry could feel the tell tale ache of an on-coming nose bleed and Jaina began to feel pity for the fish she and Tibs had caught and raised out of the ocean as children. Finally, they arrived on the platform atop the city, the ridges of the crown atop the brain. Kroger frowned as he watched a red dragon flutter atop the brain, landing, and Jaina and Sentry joined his displeasure at the sight of The Emperor upon its back. “Well, if it isn't the consequences of our actions.” Sentry chuckled with a shrug. “Well, let's make it the consequences of his instead.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. “HEY! You don't have to do this! You really don't have to side with the gods damned Nether Brain just because Kroger freed Orpheus, you can still be on the right side!” The Emperor did not dignify Sentry with a response, only glared and clenched his fists, pods emerging from the ground. From one pod, A tall, good looking male orc with black hair streaked with silver stumbled, dressed in the clothing of a bard. From another, a handsome lean muscled Githyanki with dark hair and a silver armor. Still another yielded a tall, muscular woman with beautiful red hair and the garb of a knight. Another revealed a handsome young man with pale hair and blue eyes in paladin armor. “Is that what you were hoping for, be honest, I won't be upset.” Sentry whispered to Astarion, looking from him to the dream figure. “Is now really the time for that conversation?” Astarion raised a brow. The final pod opened to reveal a tall, slender old woman in paladin armor, her iron grey curls pulled back from her face and her golden eyes trained on Sentry. “You're right, it's not.” Sentry nodded solemnly and then turned to The Emperor with a look of fury. “Oh that is it! I told you how I felt about you impersonating my mum!” He drew his halberd. “I know everything about you.” The Emperor replied. “Your thoughts, your feelings, your weaknesses...and so do they.”

“Clearly not anymore if you would still choose Gerren to try and get a response from me!” Jaina scoffed, glaring at the orc. “We must get to the center of the crown, that portal over there!” Orpheus interrupted pointing towards the swirling portal in the distance. “Sentry, can you get him there safely if we have your back?” Wyll asked, looking to the tiefling. Sentry looked across the battle field from the dragon to The Emperor, to the strange clone beings. He breathed deeply and nodded. “Yes, I can do it...Hey, you guys be safe.” It took one second for all hell to break loose, Sentry and Orpheus began to make their way as quickly as they could towards the portal. The enemy forces made their way towards them, but Jaina called down an ice storm, the ground beneath them slicking and leading them to slip and fall prone, allowing the others to get the jump on them. The battle was a blur of spells and blades, Sentry could not let his focus slip, though, he had to get Orpheus to the crown. He had to see this through. He yanked Orpheus out of the way of a torrent of fire from the massive dragon, pulling him forward as fast as he could. The tiefling shielding the illithid with his body as the hurried forward, pushing through the portal. Not long after, Wyll and the others hurried in behind them, the party finally facing off against their final foe. “No....I cannot...Will not...submit!” The brain cried out. “Good thing we're not asking you to submit, we're just asking you to die.” Sentry shot back. The brain fought viciously, the very ground on which the party stood beginning to crumble around them. Jaina swiftly extended Umberlee's blessings to the others, saving them from an untimely plummet and allowing them a moment to find safety on more solid ground. Orpheus held focus on the nether stones as a barrage of spells and arrows assaulted the brain. Finally, it began to weaken, it began to falter. Its mind reached pleadingly for Sentry. “No...please...join me! Spare me! Become Absolute!”

“It's like I told The Emperor...” Sentry frowned. “I don't want to do that!” And he nodded to Orpheus, who tightened his hold on the power in his hands, his psionic power squeezing the last bit of life from the brain. And then...they were falling. Sentry closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself until he felt a pair of strong hands under his arms. “Did you think I'd let you fall, my friend?” Aylin asked with the kind of heroic smile Sentry certainly hoped he was capable of as well. “Now come, I would be a poor knight indeed if I could not bear two friends to safety.” She sailed towards Astarion's plummeting form, nodding to Sentry to reach out for him. Kroger closed his eyes, wondering who he could pray to now, in what he was sure was his final moment, when psionic energy bore him into the air, leaving him to gently float. Orpheus, nodded to him, floating on the same psionic energy by his side. Jaina closed her eyes and thrust out her hands, lacing her fingers with Wyll's as she called out to her goddess, the whipping winds of a storm over the harbor catching both of them and buoying them gently on the salty air. She opened her eyes and smiled, Wyll smiled back as the two of them sailed slowly and gently back to the ground. As the dust cleared, the party reunited at the harbor on the edge of the pier. Jaina could see her father and brother tending to the wounded near Umberlee's temple. Her mother and Flood Tide Grey administered last rites to the dead and dying. Umberlee's faithful had stood against the illithid empire and won the day, she thought. Kroger stood with Orpheus, gazing sadly at the prince as Lae'zel and Octavia approached alongside Kithrak Voss. “I'm sorry, your majesty...” Kroger murmured. “This was all just another way I didn't think things through.” “But still we thwarted The Grand Design, and still our people will rally around my memory. The sacrifice I made will not be in vain, Kroger of Creche K'liir. You and your kin must spread my name, spread what happened here, across the Astral Sea...it must be worth it.”

Kroger nodded solemnly. “I will...Should I....Should we leave you two alone?” He looked from Voss to Orpheus and both nodded solemnly, Voss' silver sword in his hand at the ready. Sentry smiled at Astarion, taking his hands gently. “We did it! We survived! We survived everything and now we're free.” He grinned. Astarion smiled back, squeezing Sentry's hands tightly. “We are...and I intend to enjoy every...” His expression shot to a wince of pain and then a look of terror. “No...” He winced, pulling back from Sentry. The tiefling could see the sun begin to burn his lover's skin. “Well, it was nice while it lasted...” Astarion lamented, turning and rushing towards the shadows. Sentry hurried after him, already undoing his cloak and preparing to shield Astarion with it. The city would rebuild itself, the friendships forged would remain. There was time now. Without parasites gnawing at their minds, without masters and gods looming over them, without a deadline counting down to their final hours every moment, for now, there was peace.

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namelessmoons-corner · 3 months ago

Text

☆.｡.:° Session I - Part 2 | Wild Beyond the Witchlight °:.｡.☆

Click here to see part 1 of the session note

Where Orion is frustrated, Trinkets wants to try drugs and Antigone begins to hate children.

[TW: drugs]

Diane then gives Antigone paint and brushes, explaining to the adventurers that they need to find half the unicorn's names if they want any answers.

There are eight unicorns, and they are paired off. The adventurers have to solve a riddle to find their names, but Trinket and Antigone start to hit a wall. Orion's player, hearing all of their theory, is becoming more and more frustrated. Looking at them, it's clear they have the answer to at least part of the riddle. But Orion can't help, as he's outside of the merry-go-round. Yielding to the temptation to help his friends, he finally decides to use one of his eight punchable dot to get into the attraction.

With his help, the trio manage to find the name of the four unicorns, and mount them to begin the carousel. Questions are asked, poems are given and locations known.

Their curiosity satisfied, our three heroes (are they heroes yet or only adventurers on a quest?) thank Diana, promising to free her from her curse before they leave the carnival.

As they leave the merry-go-round, they see a sylvanian and a cute squirrel handing out seeds and dandelions ready to be blown away. As they blow upon their dandelion, they hope their greatest wish will come true during this journey.

The three friends study the map for a bit before deciding to go to the Snail Race. On their way, they go past the Lost and Found stand, seeing Dirla and the two children she watches over. You know how I said that the adventurers didn't seems interested in the boys in the last session notes? well they will now be taken with the children for at least 45 minutes real-time.

As they approach the stand, the oldest has a disco ball in his hand and doesn't want to give it back, which angers Dirla, and the feline begins to growl at him. Frightened, he drops the ball and flees, leaving Dirla worried about his safety, as she can't leave the younger one alone and she has to mind the stand.

But the adventurers seem more interested in the young halfling child, Allowin. They ask after his parents and learn that his mother is the one that left him here, while his dad is enjoying snacks somewhere. "Snacks?" is the question. "Yeah, mom says he enjoys coca?" The three share a glance, knowing that this kind of drink doesn't exist in their world. Have they heard something wrong?

Not at all. It would seem the dad is a cocaine addict and the mom is at the Swan boats with a man she calls 'Darling'. Who is apparently not the dad. And the parents are still married. Well… Maybe they could find the mom if Allowin gives them her name and some kind of description. Of course, he calls her 'mom' and doesn't have a name to give them. They know she has green hair and green eyes, but in the colourful carnival, it's not the most helpful of description. Maybe they could try to find the dad later though. If he's conscious.

(Picture of Dirla)

Seeing the adventurers become invested in the child's story, she asks for their help to find Viro, the one who fled earlier. Thinking about how Dirla told them children are seen as lost things and the disappearance of said lost things when the carnival closes for the night, the three accept. After a few minutes searching for the miscreant, they find him in front of a snack stand, pocketing some kind of white, flour-like sweets.

On the small slate with the prices and menu is written "Sweet coke, the best sweet to stay awake!". Antigone is suspicious. They just learnt drugs are being sold in the carnival, and a child is pocketing three sweets supposed to keep him awake and excited all night? No way she's letting him keep them.

On the other hand, Trinket is quite enthusiastic about these sweets. But when he tries to buy some without paying thanks to his role as a Carnival Hand, the seller refuses. He doesn't want to sell to the people working here, which seems even more suspicious than selling drugs in broad daylight.

Antigone manages to exchange the three sweets in the hand of the child for a lollipop, negociating with all the persuasion she has in her small body. With this done, they go back to Dirla with Viro, sternly telling him not to stray again.

And the questions come back. "Where are your parents, kid?". The answer comes quick: "I don't have a dad and my mom's a bitch." Nice kid, this one. Staying calm is a trial for Antigone, while Orion and Trinket are both laughing their ass off on the ground behind her. They can't breathe, this might be dangerous.

"Still, we need to find her before the Carnival ends, don't you think?" - "Well she left me here, I hate her, and you're a slut." Antigone is trying to understand why anyone would have children. She can't come up with an answer, and she'll receive no help from her two friends, too busy laughing as they are.

Antigone asks a few more questions and understands that Viro's mum is an artist and left him here with only a small suitcase containing a change of clothes and a toothbrush. She promises Dirla and the boys to try and find their parents, and the group leaves in direction of the Snail Race.

They all decide to race against each other. At first, it seems like Orion is going to win, but Antigone manages to push through and get first place. Thanks to this, she receives an Advantage potion.

The session finishes on this happy note, everyone a bit tired.

Next time, we'll be able to see Antigone trying to speak with a manager about this drug-selling stand and Trinket hoping to find someone called Canfoo, so don't hesitate to follow the blog not to miss anything!

☽ Moon ☾

#wild beyond the witchlight #dnd session #dnd campaign #dnd shenanigans #d&d #dnd #dnd5e #Moon's dnd sessions #witchlight carnival #campaign notes #session notes #dungeons and dragons #dnd party #dnd bard #d&d 5e #d&d oc #Moon's Witchlight carnival

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definesanity · 3 months ago

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A Life Reflective

For @anonymocha

Laplace's security was said to be second to none, with the Foundation stating the same. Medicine Pocket thought otherwise.

There's no such thing as "absolute safety", their very existence is a walking biohazard.

But, while they were pacing mindlessly around the Foundation, they saw something odd.

Someone painting.

Which is already kinda weird.

MedPoc looked around, shrugged, and then walked towards the figure.

By the time they were right next to them, MedPoc got a good look at her.

Long white hair, a robe and a suit, and really weird eyes. Like. They're purple, but in four different shades.

And she was painting the landscape.

"Not much to see, sorry to say, my friend." MedPoc opted to try and be casual. It's difficult for them.

"There is." the woman replied, her tone curt and bored sounding. "You're just not looking through the correct lens."

...Oh boy, now it gets weird...

"Oh. Really now?" the researcher's tone carried disbelief.

The woman just hummed, and continued to paint. "You are used to the sights and sounds. I am not. Common sense."

"Oho, 'common sense', you say?" MedPoc replied, squinting. "No offence, lady, but wouldn't you have any, hanging around the Foundation?"

She turned to face MedPoc, and they wished she hadn't.

In that single instance, it felt like she knew everything about them. And after a moment, she hummed once more.

"I apologise if I am intruding. I merely wished to capture this landscape." she turned back, and continued to paint.

"...So you're not from the Foundation?" it never hurt to double check, was what they were told. They agree, but they're also found of triple and quadruple checking.

"Correct. I'm not from here. I and my wife are merely passing by before continuing our tour."

MedPoc didn't reply at that, and just chose to watch the white-haired woman paint.

And, soon, she was done. "What are your thoughts?"

MedPoc... had literally zero experience in art. However, they could at least say it looked good.

They looked in the bottom left corner, and then saw a rendition of themselves and the woman, and in the painting was the exact same scene.

"The fu-- how did you manage--?"

"Wrong question. The right one is, when did I manage. And, about three minutes ago."

With a flick of her wrist, her paintbrush seemingly vanished. "My name is Sigurd, by the by. A pleasure to meet you, Medicine Pocket. Catch you later."

"How do you know my--"

And, then, Sigurd was gone. Like. Mist. She's just... vanished. Leaving only her painting.

MedPoc stared at it for a short while. And then blinked.

"What in the fuck just happened?"

#ryuusei's works #reverse 1999 #r1999 #medpoc #sigurd #wacky wahoo lore

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quickdeaths · 1 year ago

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As a general rule, when walking with another woman who wasn't Anzu (and even then, sometimes), Shinobu offered her arm, or at least her hand, rather than have it roughly taken. She nearly offered the same to Peko, before stopping herself at the realization that she certainly neither wanted nor needed it. Instead, she zipped open her bag, drawing out the two drinks as they walked down the hallway and up the stairs in the direction of her lab. "Miss Pekoyama, do you prefer coffee, or green tea?" Their own preference was for the canned coffee, but they'd drink whichever Peko liked less.

To Peko, she held out both drinks, imploring her to take one. "I appreciate your cooperation. I have no issue with the Academy scheduling us for a demonstration, but it seems rather imprudent of the administration to promise something on their own terms, and then expect the students in question to carry it out." It wasn't the domain of a husk, nor the vessel for the Yaguchi Dojo's ambitions, to unduly complain about something, but from a pragmatic standpoint, surely she could hold the position that foisting the management of the event upon students brought with it a higher risk of failure.

As it stood, it was something Shinobu couldn't afford to ignore, prompting a bristling beneath her neat, tidy attire. That members of the Ministry for Cultural Affairs would be in attendance meant, naturally, that it would all get back to her father - whether he came personally, or not. "I don't believe the other third-year students are quite so reliable, Miss Pekoyama, so I'm glad to have you as a co-organizer, rather than another." Indeed, Shinobu only had a passing familiarity with the members of 77-B, but she'd taken notice of the swordswoman - her determination, her uncompromising attitude, the rigorous standards set for herself, all things to which the Ultimate Archer could intimately relate. They even had the same eyes: intimidating red, impenetrable from behind glass.

Shinobu's lab was as one might expect - long in shape, with wood construction, targets and stone discs with rubber exteriors stacked neatly in the corner for easy retrieval, a white line painted across the floor to denote the point at which no shoes were allowed past. There were likely a dozen or so bows perched neatly on a rack, some strung, others unstrung, from all across the spectrum between small, tight, aggressively mechanical Olympic target bows, to tall, elegant kyudo yumi, to a massive European warbow boasting a draw weight of nearly 100 kilograms. A small pane of glass sequestered in safety a corner with a chair and desk, upon which rested a number of folders and loose papers.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Miss Pekoyama." Though their father rarely entertained guests, Shinobu knew it was important to be a polite host, and on the basis of their working relationship, properly hosting Peko was of particular import. "There's rather too much documentation for us to both read and write, so we may, regrettably, be here a while." For Shinobu, that was no great loss, though she couldn't say with certainty for her classmate. A single chair wouldn't help the two of them, but she could at least bring over a low table to work at while sitting seiza. A plate of soy sauce senbei and fresh hoshigaki from the estate was laid out, as well as a bowl of spicy kakinotane with peanuts, followed by a number of forms regarding ordinances, hours, locations, and other such mundane things the two would need to closely read and sign as necessary. Sitting across from the swordswoman, Shinobu adjusted her glasses before pushing her hair back out of her face and looking to the other woman. "Shall we begin?"

class letting out oftentimes granted peko with a sort of solace, nearing a hazy mental stupor in the liminal space between purposes — wherein she needs not to operate entirely as the ultimate kendōka nor as an extension of the kuzuryū clan's whims and desires. perhaps it goes without saying that though she is permitted that semblance of solace, it is not something she particularly cares to indulge in / that she cannot acclimate herself to normalcy in any sense of the word.

instead, she remains seated plainly at her desk, with feet flat against the floor, hands folded onto the smooth wooden surface of the desk's tabletop. thinking, but alert. ruminating, but maintaining her concentration nevertheless. maybe her reigi needed work ——— not as though peko typically allowed manners to fall to the wayside, but it was possible she could strengthen her conduct and furthermore her etiquette, be more curt with her aisatsu.

not as though her shinai was ever treated disrespectfully, at least : it remained well - maintained, splinter - free, with diligently tightened tsuru and nakayui, something of her prized possession. she had stripped herself of the yearning for such mundane things as possessions long ago, but revering her shinai as the greatest thing she could ever own proved productive in reinforcing reigi in the confines of her mind / that everything else could remain valueless to peko, just not that, not anything contained in the realm of kendō's gold - flaked sheen.

it was beyond possible that kendō could be her out from the kuzuryū clan, so to speak — she was skilled enough, proficient enough to bear her shinai like a crutch, but it was a compulsion that never etched itself into her fingertips. who would peko pekoyama be without the kuzuryū clan ? an unfeeling tool without a wielder : without such purpose, she would travel for months and months and months until she could find someone able to operate her in such a manner. and, for what it was all worth, she was content enough dirtying her hands with the crimson guilt of the kuzuryū's / content enough with protecting the young master with all the power she could muster.

what pesky loops for her thoughts to run on. she harbored no intentions of ever being separated from the kuzuryū's, not unless giving her life was necessary. and that was final, final in that she would not grant herself any more needless cogitation of what her life would be like if she were to be stripped of all her defining characteristics, final in that she was peko pekoyama, and she was merely the young master's tool.

cognizance glides neatly away from such a desolate and depraved topic as she processes the sound of knuckles against the door, reacting with immediacy ; gaze shifting towards the opened door, catching sight of the figure that had entered. and, of course, furthermore the beckoning for peko herself, beckoning that has her retrieving her shinai and slinging it over her back, bridging the distance between shinobu and herself. then, a curt bow, hands folded before herself.

❝ yaguchi, ❞ she says, in accompaniment with her bowing, a polite show of understanding. ❝ right, let's go. we shouldn't waste any time. ❞

#hopeds #c; the sun-slaying arrow

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violettduchess · 2 years ago

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Napoleon Week 2022 ⚜️

A/N: This is for Napoleon Week 2022 hosted by the incredibly talented @kissmetwicekissmedeadly and @batteryrose

Today's prompt: scar/ "I can't call this beautiful" is worked into an idea I had for Napoleon hand-holding headcanons, since hand-holding is a really big part of his route.

I also wanted to dedicate this to @kissmetwicekissmedeadly as a very belated birthday present ✨

Writing after the jump!

WC: 1035

The air outside stings the bare skin of your hands like tiny needles, each one a cursed reminder of why one wears gloves in winter. You rush into the mansion, out of the cold, seeking warmth, and literally run right into the man you love. His Northern-light eyes take in your cheeks, the wringing of your hands, both red with winter’s burn. He reaches down, taking your hands in his, his smile as warm as summer sunshine as he rubs them gently, bringing life back into them, his first thought to care for you.

In a ballroom full of candlelight and glittering gowns and white-toothed smiles it is easy to feel disorientated, to spin and spin without a sense of direction in the midst of all that brightness. But Napoleon saves you from the arms of other men, pulling you to him, where you belong. One hand settles firmly on your waist, steadying you. The other takes yours, his gloves soft against your skin. He lifts your joined hands, his lips curving into a smile meant only for you. As the music changes and the new dance begins, you feel his grip tighten, reassurance flowing from him to you, a river of safety and security. His touch is your landmark, always enabling you to find your way back home.

Arthur knows your heart belongs to Napoleon but it doesn’t stop him from using his smooth words, his churning ocean eyes to try and capture your smile while lingering after breakfast. You evade him, his words breezing past you, as transparent as the wind. But Napoleon does not appreciate any of Arthur's flirting. He slides down into the chair next to you, his hand reaching for yours on top of the dining room table. His long fingers curl around your hand slowly, demonstratively, his eyes resting heavily on Arthur, hard as jade. Mine, they say. Elle est à moi.

Your heart races, your skin is on fire. Napoleon is lifting you higher and higher with each kiss of his mouth, each roll of his hips. You swear this is as close to flying as you will ever get, buffeted by fiery wings of want and need. You gasp out his name as the sky grows wider, brighter, all encompassing, and then his hands find yours, fingers interlocking, knuckles white as you both leap at the same time, holding onto each other as you reach the sun and then burn, lighting up the night, together.

Your boots pick their way carefully along the top of the small wall that separates the rolling green fields from the shadowy forest. The stones are mottled gray and white, veined with green moss. Carefully you place one foot in front of the other, determined to make it to the end. Napoleon walks alongside you, his arm lifted, his hand gripping yours. It doesn’t matter that the wall only reaches your knees. Or that you are certain you could manage it without his help. He insists, in the name of your safety. His hand holds you like a lifeline and you know should your ego be wrong, should you slip and fall, he will be there. He will catch you. He will keep you safe, always.

Although your dream has broken and its pieces scatter like torn photographs in the wind, you can feel that the night is not over. In that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, you stretch out your hand and find his. He is asleep, still wandering the corridors of dreaming, but his body knows. His fingers move, intertwining with yours, a reflex as fundamental as breathing. You sigh softly and your body grows heavy as you reach for your dreams again, Napoleon’s touch as soothing as a lullaby.

You stand in the gallery of Theo’s latest exhibit, in front of one of Vincent’s newest paintings. It is a field of wildflowers, swirling with bright, vibrant colors. Colors that reach into your heart and lift it, fill it with hope, with an appreciation for the beauty in the world that often goes unnoticed. You whisper to Napoleon how striking it is, how you can feel the heart of the painting reaching out from the canvas and touching your very soul. He remarks how he has never seen anything quite so enchanting. At the softness in his voice you turn to see his eyes are not on the painting but on you, on the effect it has on you. You smile, feeling a little silly that you should be moved to actual tears, but he lifts your joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It is not silly to him. It is as exquisite as the painting itself.

One moment of distraction while slicing vegetables. That's all it takes for the knife to slip, bare its teeth and bite into the delicate skin on top of your hand. Weeks later you trace the line of the pink scar tissue, your trembling lip caught between your teeth. It's not so bad, the residents say. You're lucky you have all your fingers. But you feel marred, ugly, by something so trivial, so banal, as a kitchen knife. He comes into the darkened bedroom where you sit, watching you a moment. He then moves to where you are sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling your blemished hand. He kneels down slowly in front of you, his eyes like pools of glowing jade, the cosmos in miniature. He takes your hand, ugly and marked as it is, and lifts it to his cheek. He closes his eyes as he rubs his skin against yours, then turns his head to trace the long line with his lips. You are beautiful, he says in a whisper soft as silk. You can’t call this beautiful, you answer. There is no healing in the world that can compete with the light in his eyes when he opens them again. I am Napoleon Bonaparte, he says as he gathers your hands in his and rises, pulling you along with him. I can do whatever I want. And if I must spend the rest of our lives convincing you that you are beautiful to me, with scars or without, then it is my honor to do so.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed

#napoleon week 2022 #ikemen vamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen napoleon #ikevamp napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #ikemen headcanons #violettwrites

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eolewyn1010 · 2 years ago

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Back to sympathizing with Mina as she has sleeping issues. Don't I know the drill. She describes how she woke up at night to find her girlfriend gone; Lucy has finally managed to sleepwalk out of her room. Only in a nightdress, too, lest we forget that Dracula is an Evil Foreign Pervert Who Lusts After White Women. Anyway, so Mina runs out into the night panicking and searching for Lucy. Dramatically Appropriate weather gives us heavy clouds and, of course, a goddamn full moon. Funnily enough, this is only one day off from the actual August full moon in 1897. I can respect that. Very scenic, as usual. Lucy sits in their favorite spot on the churchyard in the moonlight like she's a Caspar David Friedrich painting, and Dracula lurks over her, although he takes flight before Mina reaches her girlfriend, not without giving Mina the stink eye.

The sentence "When I bent over her, I could see that she was still asleep" invites me to make another very inappropriate queer dreams joke, but Mina is quite the sweetheart, making sure to get Lucy warm and being careful to not scare her when waking her up. Lucy sighs and moans in her sleep tho. Dracula is a dirty old man. And Mina is back to telling us of Lucy's pretty and grace, because whatever is appropriate timing? Nightly walk home, clutching to each other - what grim romance in these trying times. Also, Mina is super worried about Lucy's reputation? I suppose that's a Victorian thing; going out at night in insufficient clothing probably equals banging half the harbor's fishermen or something. The other morning, Mina finds punctures on Lucy's neck, assuming she hurt her with a safety pin when she wrapped her up in a shawl in the churchyard. Welp. Lucy is officially a snack now. It seems she can sleep better after Dracula has had a sip; he might leave her alone for a few nights now? Hopefully?

#Dracula Daily #does Dracula get some kind of weird kick out of drinking Lucy on a churchyard?#her backyard would have been just fine too

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flusteredloser · 4 years ago

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sugar sweet

richie tozier x fem reader

category: fluff, fluff, literally just fluff

word count: 3,3k

content warnings: swearing, stealing, slight nsfw (sexual innuendos... bc it’s richie tozier), a driving scene written by a bitch who can't drive, overbearing fluff, sonia

a/n: hello here’s a lil soft fic i wrote in a hyper state today <3 i had ‘beverly’ by ben wallfisch from the it 2017 soundtrack stuck in my head while i wrote the ending so !! enjoy

🎡

"sweetheart, if you don't put your head back in, i'm afraid i'm gonna have to marie antoinette you."

you laughed dismissively at his empty threat, feeling a grin take over. you let the wind crash against your face and through your hair, the scent of sea salt softly filling your nose. if richie thought that you were going to give this feeling up, oh, was he wrong.

despite what he was saying, the sight of morning sunlight streaking through your flying hair and your torso poking out the passengers' window was one richie wished he could get used to. despite his nagging for the past half hour, ranting about the dangers of vehicular manslaughter and mishaps, he couldn't help but beam at your laughter.

he almost hit himself in the head for getting all worked up about safety like eddie always did, but it was something he found himself doing often with you. keeping you safe and sound was one of the few things that kept him from staying up all night. besides, you guys were going to see eddie and the rest of the losers in a bit anyways. the designated role of the pedantic worrier would soon be shrugged off richie's shoulders.

keeping one hand on the wheel, richie’s free hand never left the edge of your knee, not once in the hour-long drive. no matter how far you reached your body out his car's window, his fingers stayed glued around you. you never said anything about the gesture apart from placing your hand over his. being his was something you never got used to, but you were far from complaining.

"richierichierichie i think we're here!" you exclaim, ducking your head back inside the car.

"you sure, dummy? the massive ferris wheel and circus tent means we're close to the carnival?"

your hand leaves his to go shove his temple, "fuck off, rich."

"i know i know, you're really excited," he taps your knee, "so am i."

he pulls into the parking lot, expertly navigating his way through the crowded area before finding a space. an empty space which was coincidentally beside a sketchy beat-up minivan painted with "URIS," in fat letters.

richie laughs, "what are the fucking odds.”

his hand moves from the skin on your knee to the back of your seat, his body shifting to face the rear. you subtly eye your boyfriend sitting in the driver's seat and tried not to physically express any of the thoughts firing in your mind right then. dear god, did he look good today. you end up shamelessly staring at him as he strains his neck to squeeze his way through tight space. his knuckles turn to this ghostly shade of white when he flexed them against the wheel, his rings glinting under the sunlight.

once he finally put the car in park and shifted his weight back to you, he catches your gaze. throwing a wink, he pulls out the keys and stuffs his belongings into his jean pockets.

you’re sure he has zero clue about the effect any of this had on you. sure, he was your boyfriend but sometimes you found yourself feeling scared at how much you liked him. this boy has you wrapped around his finger and he barely knows half of it.

you reach over and run your fingers through his unruly hair a couple more times, enjoying the way the curls bounce back. “you look so good, rich.”

he rolls his eyes at your remark, but you don’t miss the way a small blush reaches tips of his ears. “enjoy it while it lasts, i can’t let the guards recognise me again.”

“i still can’t believe you got fired and banned on the same day, rich. that’s genuinely so impressive, you know that?"

richie rolls his eyes but you see the hint of a grin on his face, “you going soft on me, sweets?”

“could never.” you ruffle his hair, letting your nails glide along his scalp and you laugh at the way his head naturally tips back. richie had no clue why the feeling of your hands in his hair that made him short-circuit, but he wasn’t complaining.

“do we really have to go see them...” richie groans, grabbing your hand and placing it back onto his head when you pulled away.

“richard tozier. i did not pester you to drive us an hour away just so you could fold at me playing with your hair.”

he side-eyes you. “why did i agree to this again?”

“because every day for the last month you wouldn’t shut up about ‘taking eddie’s slushee v-”

“ed’s slushee virginity, riiiight,” he breaks out in a smile, “jesus, can you believe sonia never let him near one in his entire life?”

you tug his fringe towards you and the rest of his head followed, “well, now that he’s all alone there, someone’s got to be there to guide him through his first time, right?”

he faux-pouts back at you, the mischievous glint in his eye sparkling brighter. “fine.”

finally, you let go of his hair and he pecks a kiss against your cheek before putting on his sunglasses and tipping his cap further down his face. opening his car door, you sit there dumbfounded as you watch the 6'2 disguised dork clamber out of his side with your tote bag on his shoulder.

he glances back, offering a hand as if you were going to climb out on his side as well, “c’mon, we don’t have all day.” and richie made sure you knew that by dragging you through the park, evading the guards left and right in under a minute. it was only so long before you spotted a group of idiots wandering aimlessly. bev’s bright red hair was the instant identifier, and watching this bill’s lanky frame grab a fistful of stan’s curls to yank it about sealed the deal.

“stanley, darling,” richie yelled through the crowd, “if you wanted someone to pull your hair that badly you could’ve asked me nicely.” “shut the fuck up, trashmouth!” stan yelled back. “wait. rich?”

you walk over and sling your arm around bev, “you guys haven’t been waiting long, have you?” she grins at the sight of you, “no, but if i have to hear mike argue one more time that the high striker is apparently ‘broken’ i’m going to kill somebody.”

“do me a favour and kill me, bev!” stan’s voice cuts through, followed by a shriek when richie too grabs a handful of his hair.

bev’s hand leaves yours to go smack both boys upside the head. “y’all better stop acting like children before i get fucking fired. i’m not going out like dumbass richie here did.” she eyes the rest of them, who all halt in their tracks.

“yes, ma’am,” the chorus sighed.

🎡

"ed's, i swear on your mother's smokin’ bod that blue is the. best. flavour. there's literally nothing wrong with it."

"you just called blue a flavour, richie-”

"because it can be. it doesn’t matter if blue and red colouring are the same, you can feel the difference.”

"no, i really can't. i don't understand how the colour blue could possibly be-"

richie groans, "fine, eat your mommy's packed lunch like the big boy you are." he teasingly starts to wave his cup in front of eddie's eyes.

"quit it, rich. if eddie doesn’t want toxins in his body, leave him be." ben interjects before sipping his own neon drink.

the boys huddled together around a picnic table they had managed to snatch before the carnival’s lunch rush swept over. richie and bev used to work in the carnival last summer, the two-week period spent with one another supposedly being “worse than the devil’s asscrack.” the comment itself earned richie five slaps, one each from the boys, and a high-five from bev. that was until richie got permanently banned (which you still don’t know how) and now bev carried on by herself whenever they roll back into derry.

currently, you and bev were on your way back from the concession stands, attempting not to spill anything. you each held at least four bags of carnival foods and drinks in your arms, bev also balancing the few candy bars she stashed under her shirt. teeter-tottering your way back to the boys, richie burst out in laughter at the sight of you struggling.

“as graceful as a job you’re doing with that, sweets, do you want some help?” he smirks, already swinging his leg over the chair.

“nope, nothing to see here,” you groan at richie’s smug grin. “rich, i swear to god if you come near me i am going to-”

“hurt me, hit me, murder me, mmhm. i’m sure you’ll do a whole lot of damage.” he winks, swiping the bags from your arms.

“freaky.” stan muttered, churning his slushee with the straw. you grumble at richie’s endearing irritating act of heroism and plop yourself next to stan empty-handed.

“here, you want some?” stan raises an eyebrow, offering his blue slushee towards you.

“thanks stan, but he’s got my...” you glance towards richie, half-expecting to see him distributing the snacks, only to see him aggressively nudge the slushees in eddie’s face. “you know what, i’ll take it.”

stan scoffed, “what, you thought i was offering this from the depths of my generous heart? i thought you knew me better-"

the sound of plastic crinkling and eddie’s yelp cut through stan’s sentence.

you look back at the sight of richie threatening to pour the ice into eddie’s hair, eddie shrieking and wildly missing punches at richie. dear god, your boyfriend was such a menace. richie and eddie never spent a day where they weren’t at eachother’s throats though, but anyone with a pair of eyes could see that they deeply loved one another. rich had that effect on people, you think. he was rarely overtly loving, but it’s not like he needed to be. you guys just knew.

ben smiles sweetly between you and your gaze on richie. “you’re staring again, y/n.”

you immediately snap out of it and go to slug ben in the shoulder. “was not.”

“was too.”

"was. not."

"was too!"

you narrow your eyes at ben who sheepishly smiles in innocence. he reaches over to grab a couple onion rings from your bag to which you lightly slap the back of his hand. he groans, trying again from another angle, “just because i pointed out your goo-goo eyes at trashmouth?”

bev snatched a couple rings from across you and threw them at ben. he chuckles gleefully at the perfect catch. “you know, he’s not wrong,” she points out.

“for the last time, i wasn’t staring,” you groan.

“not about that, genius. the way you’re absolutely whipped for that dick.” she smiles. “i mean,” you barely conceal your smirk, “the dick is pretty g-”

"not what i meant," bev sighs while the rest of them groan at your words.

“seriously though,” bill asks with genuine curiosity, “how did you even end up together? how do you even like someone that much?” bev tuts from the other side, “tread lightly there, denbrough.”

“shut up, you know what i mean. it’s trashmouth we’re talking ’bout here.” bill grins, “it’s a mystery how someone can shut him up so quick.”

you laugh to yourself, thinking about the few times you get to see richie completely speechless. “it’s not that hard, you know?” you shrug softly at the way the losers nod. you may all pretend to hate the life out of him but he always had a special place in each of your hearts. “he cares with everything he’s got, no matter what. he’s always there for you even if you don’t want him to be. i just...i don’t think he’s been anything less than...”

“-if you say ‘perfect’, i’m going to hit you.” stan says.

you roll your eyes at stan, “fuck off, but... but yeah. it’s so easy to love him and i honestly owe you guys an apology for being so annoyingly whipped for that dork,” you joke.

aside from the distant bickering coming from richie and eddie in their own little world, a silence hung over the six of you. it was too quiet. wondering if you said something wrong, you scan over them, only to be met with six variations of a smirk. more than confused, you chuckle nervously. “i was joking about the apology thing but if you really want-”

“you said ‘love.’” bev laughed.

“what?”

“you said ‘love,’” she repeated. “that you loved him.”

“i... of course i love him, he’s..” not trusting any more of the words coming out of your mouth, you cut yourself off and gather your thoughts.

of course you loved richie. each and every one of you loved your resident trashmouth, he was one of your best friends. the two of you were the closest of friends, an insufferable duo for years before you began dating. it might have only been a few weeks since he asked you out, but it’s not like too much changed from when you were friends.

there was only more love, more affection, only slightly more sexual innuendos (majority of them were solely just to piss off stan).

so of course you loved him. more than you did when you were friends. which he’s gotta know... right?

“fuck, maybe i do owe you guys an apology.” you joke.

“don’t think twice about it, this is nothing compared to him. if i took a shot for every time he went on some sort of love ramble about you, i’d be fucking dead.” bev replies, “and then he would carry on.”

you laugh, shaking your head in denial, “c’mon, he does not do that.”

“are you blind?” mike speaks up. “you’ve had him since the first day you joined us at the barrens. i can still see fourteen-year-old richie ogling you clear as day.”

you stammered at your response, tripping over your words. “mike, i think you broke her. she’s become bill,” stan teases.

you go to shove stan again and sorely miss. “anyways, my point is...”

you avoid their eye contact and go back to churning stan’s slushee. “he has my heart, fuck, he’s got all of our hearts. like, is he an asshole? sure. does he get on my nerves every other day? definitely. will he be the death of me? probably. but i l-”

“i sure hope you’re winding up to something there, sweets.”

you snap your head up from your dreamy rambling to see richie smirking next to you and eddie squeezing himself next to bill. you feel yourself go bright red at the realisation that he had been listening.

“i- no. that was it.”

“you sure? you going off about me... ‘but’...” richie pushes, quoting your words.

“richie, if you genuinely think you have redeeming qualities, i suggest some self-reflection.” stan quipped. “yeah, i was just pointing how much you bother us. no ifs, no buts,” you jokingly agree.

“mean,” richie rolls his eyes, shifting back in his seat next to you.

he’s gotta know... right?

you wink and stick your tongue out playfully, to which richie raises an eyebrow at. he glances between the blue drink in your hand and your tongue, his gaze on your lips making you nervous.

“now, what?” you sigh, wiping the ice from your mouth and pretending that you weren’t dying to know what was churning in that brain of his.

“nothing,” richie shrugs smugly, “just that i’ve always wanted to know how my cock looked blue.”

the comment took you off guard, your instant blush only fuelling richie’s grin. without hesitation, you lean over with a faux-pout, an act that has richie’s eyes wide. “careful there, trashmouth,” you tease loudly. “you keep this up and you’ll see how stan’s looks blue.”

bev immediately gasps with her hand over her mouth, followed by mike’s stifled cackle as he slapped richie’s back. the rest of the group looks frankly stunned, and stan’s face is on a whole different level of red.

richie doesn’t even look the least bit angry. his jaw is dropped slightly and he runs his hand over his jaw, trying to stop the chuckle that leaves his throat. if anything he looks proud.

shaking his head with a smile, he slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. “that’s my girl,” he grins.

“yeah, that for sure is tozier’s,” bill says.

there’s no way any of you miss the way richie’s face goes red under that comment and your heart skips a beat when he squeezes your side. when no one’s looking, you lean up and kiss by his ear, absolutely delighted by the deeper shade of red on his face.

“darl, if you don’t stop that i’m going to go as red as stan,” he whispers into your hair. the both of you look back at the boy who’s trying to concentrate on his slushee and not the blush that’s continued to creep to his neck. “i’m actually getting concerned.”

you giggle, “shh, he’s fine.”

“no really, i give it a couple seconds before eddie pulls out his medical fanny pack,” richie says.

you look up at him as you’re tucked into his side, his arm still slung around your shoulder. his dark hair and eyelashes caught the sunlight, his blue eyes glinting as he glanced back. his lips were tipped into their signature cheeky smile, almost like a cue that he was going to say something out of hand. you felt the swell of your heart grow as he raised his eyebrows, prompting what he knew you were going to say.

“you know, earlier...” you whisper, looking down to his hand intertwining with yours. “i just... i wanted to say that i... you know... that i-”

“i feel like i should be offended at how hard it is for you to tell me you love me, sweets,” he whispers back, clearly trying to keep a straight face. fuck. “oh god please, you know i-” richie shushes you, kissing the crown of your head. “it’s okay, i know.” you can feel the curve of his lips against your hair. “i love you too.”

trying to tame the aggressive blush and stupid smile that reached your face, you follow his gaze over to eddie. just like richie joked, he had this fanny pack laid on the table in front of stan. you weren’t listening to anything they were saying, but you watched the way stan was squirming from eddie, insisting he did not have heatstroke. mike stood right behind stan, pinching his cheeks and periodically wrapping his strong arms around stan to stop him from squirming. bev was leaning across ben and bill’s laps, joining in and poking her fun at eddie and you notice how bill’s hands traces figures along bev’s side. ben gazes at the group of them, chiming in every so often when stan’s quips got too violent.

it was one of those moments you wish you could freeze.

after a while, richie whispers into your ear. “do you think they’d even notice if we left for the ferris wheel?”

you break your eye contact from the group to gaze up at him. “nope, not at all. you think you can sneak us some tickets?”

“please, you think i got kicked out of here for nothing?” he scoffs.

“is this how you’re going to get banned again?” you grin, poking his side, “stealing tickets for your girl?”

with a soft smile, he takes your hand to subtly stand and back away from the group. with stifled giggles, the both of you manage to make it at least twenty feet without the losers even noticing. the second you two were out of earshot, richie wraps his hand around yours and begins to run, “i wouldn't want it any other way."

🎡

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erisdiamas · 2 years ago

Text

Eyes peered and glued onto every step that the young 'parent' 's took matched with a tightening grip on their staff.. slinking around the streets.. a white fox mimicking the masked one's movements swiftly in toe- crouching in the nearest convenient wall- ready to pounce!

"Nah, Olg? I'd admit the place was a little... orthodox but there's no doubt in my gem that it could've been revived with or without us! You'd never believe it, we managed to get a whole new neighbor after the last paint job- even paid in SLUGS!" Eris had been.. well.. coping ever since losing the forest despite truly feeling a sense of belonging with the others.. she felt quite silly missing the place she once made her home.. the warmth of the personalization.. stars, Betsy- regardless, who's to reallyy blame for the trails of petals that somewhat littered the halls?

"I don't think anybody should be on their own, she seemed almost relieved that she found us!" The tugging at her curls interrupted the thoughts invading her head- the residual 'goop' from the tiny Titan excessive chomping coated the strands.

"You think she's the only one?

Masked up and donned in gold, orange and white- donning nothing but a half crescent kitsune mask popped out of the underground in a twinkle of luminescent light.. the tiny creature with the figure seemed to flow with exactly what the other needed- yipping as the magenta jewel on it's forehead glew as the fuzzy Palisman rematerialized in their gloved palm- multicolour eyes lit up the alleyway.

"I believe a conversation is highly overdue, as your presence deeply boggles me- talking is a obligation.. for the safety of our citizens..I intend to do whatever it takes." Cold words pierces through her tone in place of a gentle facade- glaring at the pair through the holes of the fox mask.. ready to strike and nip at any given movement.

Shopping with a slimy yet fuzzy baby that keeps wrangling out of your grasp with a pair of curious grabby hands touching everything in every aisle- to say the entire chase was stressful, you'd have to be severely underestimating the almighty will of Sol Feargash.

The hooded woman spun a tiny spell circle in the air as the vines emerge (cue the little baby clapping, eyes full of sparkles upon seeing the pretty vines dance) wrapping around the silky Titan and safely dropping them into the halfling's arms.

Eris, on the other hand- the young woman was scrambling to apologize for the mess they've made in yet another store.. luckily for them, they're already in the messiest district they could've found themselves in.. but when its the third shop that week- you start to test some witch's patience.. on some days, it'll be fine.. this doesn't appear to be that day.

So yes! The figure has been observing the pair and their. . . Odd demon.. selkie.. spawn creature for the past weeks watching as they fumble around into integrating somewhat around the rather broken part of the utopia- noted by the tall one with manelike hair frequenting it.. with her special friend with the cloak and staff.. learning that the latter of the pair has fangs and an anger to boot- also noted by the vendors that would flee when they'd come into frame.. nonetheless, they were still undocumented and wandering her kingdom.. all the answers that she could get.. the masked individual decided they'd be better answered directly.

♡

The aftermath from the fiasco earlier caused them to be kicked out! Walking home with nothing but a kelp bottle to soothe the now fussy child- babbling out of frustration because they seemingly had to leave the 'playground' causing them to 'weh!" In the process- grabby hands reaching to be fed by the warm bottle- promptly snatching it from forest girl's hand.. only to whine once more because they weren't being hand fed.. the pair seemed used to it though.. gently humming to the child melodies in the streets.

"Gash, I know the apartment is.. well.. quite quaint but I'm sure it's large enough for a garden! I think Olga would reallyyy appreciate how much of a fresh coat, it'd add to the front.. business will be blooming!!" In time, they were down on their luck until their landlord decided to show the slightest bit of mercy.. albeit strict, Olga has been letting them stay due to them being the only help these days... especially with the alleyway nursing but that's neither here nor there.. the pair was just grateful to be there.

@ouroborosbled

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amor-immortalem · 3 years ago

Text

Replaced

Genre: Heavy Angst, Angst with a somewhat happy ending.

Warning: The following piece is my take on the replaced! au with Arella. Dark themes lie ahead. If you are triggered by feelings of abandonment, suicidal ideation, or outright suicide, this mini fic is not safe for you to read. Please continue at your own discretion.

A/N: I did it guys! I actually managed to break myself with this mini fic by digging into my own abandonment issues. It was fun- cathartic almost. Please enjoy! Also, spoilers for the lesson 16 incident.

What does it feel like to be replaced? If you were to ask Arella, she’d say it felt bitter and painful. Like someone was holding a white-hot branding iron to her stomach and pushing it in to the point it ate through all the layers of her skin and was now searing through her stomach or like someone was rubbing salt into a open, festering wound.

When Diavolo had announced to the other student council officers that a new exchange student would be joining their ranks, Arella was excited- especially when she found out the new student was a female- there was only so much Arella could talk about in a house full of men and one genderless individual that they would understand, all of them having been assigned male at birth and whatnot. So, another woman among their ranks would be a breath of fresh air for her. And it was for a time being- until the brothers had taken favor to this new human.

It started within months of this new exchange student arriving. One by one, her favorite demons started hanging around her more often. It wasn't like Arella could be mad at them. This human was novel and oh so different from Arella. She was everything Arella was not, from her blonde hair to her well-developed body- even her height, which matched closer to the brothers. She was everything human world media told a girl she should be. She even looked like she fit in with them- having taken to the Devildom like a duck to water even without being able to use magic.

Arella wants to be angry with this girl, but she can’t. This girl, named Melissa, was so sweet it was almost enough to make Arella sick. She was smart, innocent, and -above all else- selfless. It was apparent the boys adored her immediately. One by one, Arella was losing them to the charms of this new girl. The first to go was Satan, clearly smitten by her love of books and knowledge of obscure but very talented authors. The second to go was Asmo, often taking her out to clubs or on long shopping trips that often lasted well past curfew. And just like that the other brothers started to follow suit. Game nights between her and Levi? Gone. Drawing up budgets with Lucifer? Not anymore. Going out with Beel to cafes? Not in her wildest dreams. Naptimes up in the attic with Belphie? Hah! Fat chance. The last and most painful to pull away was Mammon- her first man. The one who swore he would always be there for her when she needed him. And oh how she needed him.

Just like when Arella had first come to the Devildom, Mammon was given the task of watching over Melissa by Lucifer. At first Arella tried to justify it as Lucifer worrying about the girl’s safety as even though his brothers had gotten better at controlling themselves, they still had their moments.

As time went on however, she started to notice the little things. Missed movie nights between them, date nights often forgotten about in favor of showing Melissa his favorite spots around the city, the loss of any physical intimacy. Soon, he stopped seeing her all together. Things that she and Mammon did together were now reserved for Melissa: casino trips, movie nights, pranks on Lucifer that would have the eldest chasing after them, running around the city until it was nearly what could considered to be the Devildom’s equivalent of dawn. She knew he was completely gone when she walked down to the dining room for supper one evening and overheard them just casually flirting. Mammon didn’t even make any attempts to dissuade Melissa’s advances. He remembered he actually had a girlfriend, right? Right?!

Or were they even a thing anymore? It had been months since they’d spent any substantial time together outside of classes and even then, he’d moved seats to sit closer to the new human. He’d either ignore her texts or straight up just ghost her altogether. As she listened to them, she had to push down the possessive tendencies that tried to force their way out of her. She pushed them back down into the flimsily locked box they had always been contained in and burying them down in the deepest parts of her mind, forcing herself to accept that she was no longer wanted- no longer loved by the family she thought she’d found. She returned to her room for the rest of the night and for the first time since the initial weeks after arriving here on her first visit, cried herself to sleep.

The next time she interacted with any of the Avatars, it was Lucifer ordering her off to school telling her that she had better not be late and tarnish the good name Lord Diavolo and the exchange programme. Arella only nodded and promptly left the house, not even bothering to finish her morning cup of tea. The walk to school was lonely, Mammon had left earlier with Melissa and it was then, with a broken heart, Arella decided she would leave them all to their new toy. They wouldn’t bother her. They didn’t need her. At least she had Solomon and the angels, didn’t she? No, it didn’t seem to be the case either judging by the mass of unanswered texts.

As she entered class, Arella took her usual seat only hoping Mammon would choose to sit with her for once, would just choose her for once in general. But it wasn’t meant to be. Of course, it wouldn’t. Why would he bother to choose her when there was someone who was much better for him than her? Someone who wasn’t selfish or possessive or... or... worthless... She subtilty looked over her shoulder to watch as they cracked jokes and laughed together and she felt tears pool in her eyes- heart aching at the thought that she would never have that again and the sweet memories she’d made with the demon. The spot she once saved for him was now taken by another demon.

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

Two months more of this- it had been eleven since Melissa joined them. None of the brothers even looked Arella’s way anymore- often forgetting she lived in the house with them in the first place. When she tried to reach out to any of them it was Melissa needs this or Melissa and I are doing this, so she just stopped. She stopped eating, stopped taking care of herself save for basic hygiene needs. No one came to check on her. There were no texts, no calls, nothing. They’d gotten all they wanted out of her and now she was like a cast aside doll. She thought about reaching out to any of them but decided against it. They were demons and she was just an insignificant human. It's not like they actually cared and Arella was a fool for allowing herself to entertain the thought.

She should just go home. But where was home? The human world held nothing for her to return to. Sure, she had that degree in biochemical engineering to fall back on but after having a taste of true happiness, would she even enjoy a life doing that? Maybe she could just go back to her original plan. The plan she had made when she first signed on to the exchange programme. 23 years was certainly long enough to experience everything life had to offer, right? She always did tell herself if the year on the exchange programme didn’t work out, she’d end it all. The idea was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.

With her mind made up, Arella swung her legs over the side of the bed. A smile was painted on her face. Her cheeks stained with tears; emerald-green eyes bleary from all the crying she’d done over the past two months. No one would miss her. They left her- abandoned for the better human like she was an unwanted pet. What did she expect though? No one ever stayed. No one ever cared. No one ever loved her enough to begin with. She was always thrown away like the trash she was after her purpose was fulfilled.

With what little strength she could muster, Arella stood as she uttered a spell and a portal opened. She gladly stepped through it, finding herself in her childhood home as it closed- a place filled with nothing but suffering and pain for her. What a fitting place for her own painful end.

“Hello, Mum, Myles... I’m... home... Isn’t it lovely... that you were right after all? I’ll be with you... soon...”

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

Missing his call on her D.D.D. was the first thing that Mammon noticed. He knew he hadn’t been the best boyfriend ever since the new human arrived and the demon felt guilty for that. He’d put so much energy into helping Melissa get a date with his younger brother that he hadn’t realized how much time had actually passed- how it had been almost a year since he’d done literally anything with his girlfriend. She was probably pissed at him and rightfully so. Now that he had actually looked at his calendar, there had been so many planned dates and movie nights he had missed with her and all he wanted to do was make it up to her somehow. She probably thought he didn’t want her anymore which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He missed her- missed hanging out with her, missed the dumb jokes they would crack and the laughter that followed, missed the pranks they would play on Lucifer that often ended up with them strung up from the ceiling together. He missed the late-night cuddles and having her tucked up under his arm at night as he held her close. The bed they had once shared was considerably colder now that she was no longer there.

Mammon made his way down to her room. That was the only place she could be. Arella never left her room anymore. She always left for school earlier than anyone else too, choosing to skip breakfast outright, so Mammon couldn’t even catch her to talk then. He thought about reclaiming his seat next to his human but every morning he found her chatting up another demon that had taken his old seat. He often felt his possessiveness spike most during those times but did he even have the right to feel that way after neglecting her for the past eleven months?

As he drew closer to her room, he could see Beel knocking at her door, asking if she’d like to go visit that new café she had mentioned a couple weeks ago. When there was no answer, the Avatar of Gluttony would frown, unsure if she was just asleep or just actively ignoring him. That was the second sign something was wrong. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, Arella was always happy to entertain their whims.

“She’s not answerin’ ya, is she?” The second-born asks as the sixth-born shakes his head, looking like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road. “I’ll go in ‘n see if she’s awake. I have to talk to ‘er anyway.”

Beelzebub nodded as he left back to the kitchen- likely to eat his hurt feelings away. None of them really had the right to feel this way after they’d just ghosted their favorite human though. As he opened the door, Mammon stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn’t there, her phone lay on the bed lit up with missed texts from Asmo and Levi.

Immediately, he took off for Lucifer’s study. If anyone would know her whereabouts it would be Lucifer, right? The family patriarch had the uncanny ability to know exactly where every resident of the House of Lamentation was at any given time so long as they were still in the Devildom.

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

After considering her options, Arella was left indecisive. There were a number of ways she could end her own life. She wouldn’t lie, before the exchange programme she would fantasize about the many ways she could kill herself. Would it be by hanging like she found Myles? Or perhaps she could slit her wrists like her beloved mother. If the car in the garage still worked, carbon monoxide poisoning was a valid option too. There were sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet- a large handful of those would definitely do the trick... Ah choices, choices. As she smiled to herself, the human wondered if any of the brothers had noticed she wasn’t in the house anymore. The chances were unlikely as they were all too busy with their new human but if they had, who was it?

Would it be Asmo, Levi, Belphegor? Surely, it wouldn’t have been Mammon. He’d long since moved on, probably enjoying the start of a new relationship with Melissa. It hurt that he couldn’t have been bothered to even break up with Arella in the first place. What happened to forever? Had it all been the honeyed words of a liar?

She shook her head. It was best not to think too much on it but she still couldn’t help it. Once she was gone- once their pact faded away- would he regret this? Would he regret losing the person who loved him so unconditionally that it was almost embarrassing?

With her mind made up, Arella grabbed a knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen and carried herself up to the master bedroom where she had found her mother four years prior. As she lie on the bed, she pressed the knife to her wrist deep enough to cause substantial bleeding. She drags the blade up her arm, watching as the crimson liquid gushed from the from the wound. She thinks it’s beautiful- a fitting end for a vile creature such as herself.

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

“Lucifer!”

“What, Mammon?” The eldest didn’t even bother to look up from the ever-growing stack of paperwork on his desk.

“Did Arella have plans tonight?” The Avatar of Greed asks as his brother finally looks up at him.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I also haven’t seen her all day. As her mate, you should know, shouldn’t you? As far as I’m aware, Arella hasn’t left the house and is still in her room probably practicing her mag-”

In that moment, both demons felt a sharp pain shoot up their arm as if someone had taken a knife and was drawing a line up the inside of their arm. The same pain was radiating from the places where their pact marks were located. Mammon clutched at his chest as he fell to his knees, the symbol representing his girlfriend radiating with pain that reached down to his heart. If the screams of the others were anything to go by, they felt the same thing.

“She’s not in her room!” The white-hair demon manages to gasp out. What scares him most is that he can feel their pact fading away.

Lucifer’s heart leapt up in his throat as the realization hit him. It wasn’t her practicing magic that he had sensed earlier, it was her casting a spell. She opened a portal to the human world and had gone through. He now realizes the mistake they’ve made as he remembers back to the confession she had made to him over a year ago one night when neither of them could sleep and opted for a late-night cup of tea. She had told him that he and his brothers had saved her life that first year during the exchange programme. That if things hadn’t worked out so well, she had planned to take her own life. Back then, he thought nothing much of it since the problem had resolved itself. But with how they had essentially pushed her aside in favor of Melissa, she would have felt unwanted bringing the suicidal thoughts back full force. They had to get to her and fast before it was too late.

Always fast on his feet the eldest, opens a portal of his own, knowing of only one place she would go to take her own life. Both brothers would hop through, landing in the dusty house with a thud. The smell hit them faster than either of them could process it. Blood. And a lot of it at that.

Mammon was the first to scramble for the stairs while Lucifer made a break for the phone, having forgotten his D.D.D. on his desk in the rush to get through the portal. The second-born knows the layout of Arella's house too well, having been here with her multiple times before this. Back in better times when she knew just how much he loved her. As the smell of fresh blood grows stronger, he finds her resting on the bed, a smile on her face as the knife lay between her body and the arm that was still slowly losing blood.

Faster than a flash of lightning, the demon tore his belt off and was on the bed immediately. He took her arm, fastening his belt around the upper part in a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. He shook her frantically, tears spilling down his face freely.

“Arella! Arella! C'mon, baby, wake up! Please!” His voice came out in a scream and he could only vaguely hear his brother speaking on the phone with emergency services. “We’re sorry! Don’t leave us! Don’t leave me!”

With every passing second, Mammon could feel her life slipping away through the pact that was still searing his heart. This was the price of his actions- of all their actions. Her blood was on his hands, literally. He should have done more. He should have been there. He could have called or texted or even just picked up the damn phone when she had called him, but instead just like the blood that had slipped from her arm, the Avatar of Greed let her slip through his fingers. She was gone and there was no bringing his human back this time like they had when Belphie threw her body down the stairs after he’d strangle her to death. He and his brothers had spent all that time protecting her from other demons but they couldn’t protect her from themselves.

Once the EMT’s got there, the demon stepped back from the blood-soaked bed in a state of shock- a state of disbelief. There was nothing they could do for her now. She had no pulse, no signs of life. He dropped to his knees unable to believe that his human was truly gone. His throat felt tight as more tears came. He was only just able to register the feeling of the Avatar of Pride’s embrace as they cried together- something they hadn’t done since the fall, since Lilith passed.

The two demons were informed that the coroner would arrive to collect her body shortly as they left the room. Slowly they got up, Mammon taking her body in his arms as he fought back the urge to sob. The pair returned to the House of Lamentation with Arella’s body in tow, cradled carefully in her mate’s arms. As they stepped through, they were met by their brothers and Melissa. Even the Angels, Solomon, and the Royals were there waiting.

“She’s gone,” The eldest’s voice cracked as a pained grimace formed on his face, more tears slipping down his face. Mammon couldn’t even lift his head to look them in the eyes as the crying, wailing, sobbing started.

“We didn’t deserve ‘er.” The second-born chokes on his tears, feeling utterly broken inside. “We did this to ‘er. All... All seven of us did this... She reached out to alla us ‘n we ignored ‘er.” He’s the angriest with himself.

The prince and his butler only watch on, tears in their eyes. Diavolo remembers all the good times they’ve had with Arella. The way she made the lives of the Avatars better, the fun she brought to the student council meetings, the beautiful light she’d brought to the Devildom. She’d made such an impact on the lives of all of these demons and angels. As selfish as it was, Diavolo didn’t want to let any of that go.

“Bring her back, Barbatos.” He orders and his loyal servant steps forward.

“Place her on the ground, Mammon.” Barbatos says calmly, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times and for some reason the Avatar of Greed obeys the order.

Once she’s on the ground, the green-haired demon pulls open her mouth and takes Mammon’s hand in his, producing a dagger and slicing the white-haired demon’s palm tipping it to side and allows the blood to drop into Arella’s mouth. As the crimson liquid flows down her throat, the effect is immediate- Arella's body convulsing violently before she gasps for breath as the gash along the inside of her arm heals.

Everyone- demons, angels, and humans alike- stare wide-eyed at the scene. Lucifer looks up to his longtime friend in disbelief. He had just...

“Let this teach you all a very painful lesson. I’ve given her life as a demon, do not take this chance for granted. You will not get it again. She needs rest for now, but in a day or two, Arella will reawaken.” The prince’s voice is stern as he peers down at the former human who would now become a very powerful demon. “Treat her right this time.”

It’s with that that Diavolo and Barbatos take their leave. The rest was up to the brothers now to care for her and right the wrongs they’ve made.

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The Bad Ending

Find more on my masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date?#obey me angst #mammon angst #replaced!mc au

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