#i mean we have to assume they were made by a humanoid creature considering their resemblance to humans

[mbat]

by the way i think its really funny that the gems cry, cause theyre literally artificial which means that whoever made them also thought to make them with the idea of emotional regulation coming from tears, which implies so many things to me lol

[spaceferren-comics]

heyyyyyy i have many questions about your project because it’s awesome 😎

what IS Typhon? how did he come to be?

how did everyone meet?

who is considered the most powerful of all the characters?

love these characters so much i’ll consume y’all’s art

Tysm!! For Typhon, since he’s got so many different alternate versions (Typhon Valac aka Horror Typhon, Snatched/Main Universe Typhon, Mooties Typhon, etc) Im gonna assume you’re referring to Typhon Valac since that’s who ya made fanart of! :33 I’ll have his long ass story down below cuz even the basic synopsis is long lmfao

Irl we all met over roblox rp servers LMFAO, but in universe we met mostly through various comical means

Of all our OCs the most powerful is like Toy-Maker, who’s basically an unknowable force of unbridled chaos. He’s sorta like if you mixed Bill Cipher, Jevil, Dimention, Klefka, Marx etc. into one horrific mix lmfao

(Long story ahead for Typhon Valac, prepare thyselves)

Typhon Valac

Horror Typhon (also known as 'Typhon V' for 'Typhon Valac') is a humanoid yet monstrous wendigo-esque rabbit creature. This demonic beast appears very much like a skinny, starved, yet muscular ghoul- with torn and tethered rotting skin that loosely clings to the muscular frame of the creature. However, he strangely wears a pair of almost cartoonish white gloves, not much different from say Mickey Mouse or the likes, likely tied to his past as a Disney Employee/Animator.

Typhon V is the twisted spirit of Cecil Cuminotto, an Italian immigrant who worked as an animator at Walt Disney studios in the mid 1980s (during most of Disneys layoffs, and while the company was in a massive slump). in Burbank, California. Cecils' life could best be described by two words: Constant Work. Indeed Cecil worked day and night, doing above and beyond what should have been necessary- always under the threat of fire from the uptight and rigorous company. However it was his passion, so for the most part, he didn't mind- and in his spare time, he even liked to make sketches and rough animations of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit (though he hid this from the company, as he didn't belong to Disney at the time) to entertain himself or his fiancé.

This would all change tragically however as come 1984, said fiancé, Katherine Gell, who died tragically in a horrific car accident with a young and inebriated Nicholas Martin- tragically, on the day of their honeymoon no less. Distraught at his loss, Cecil asked for a few months off to process his grief- and was denied, and was thus not even allowed to attend his own SO's funeral. This sent Cecil into a massive downward spiral of depression in and out of the workplace, his own mental instability making him begin to see her everywhere he looked- like a phantom haunting him. His guilt ate him alive- and in a desperate bid to reprieve himself, he reached out to friends and family alike- neither able to help him.

Distraught and mentally ill, Cecil did everything he could to make the constant pain and misery end- such as drowning himself in a waterfall of drugs and alcohol. Noticing his changed demeanor at work, he was investigated- and dozens of anti-depressants and liquor bottles were found hidden in his desk. Immediately fired, the now purposeless addict only continued his spiral by subjecting himself to more and more dangerous concoctions of drugs, alcohol, and anything that could make him simply stop thinking anymore. After taking a particularly lethal (and large) dose of Heroin, Ecstasy, and Hard Vodka, Cecil died alone and painfully in a dark alleyway, forgotten and left to rot. His intense rage, guilt, pain, and overall suffering made his spirit linger- refusing to move on, and thus: a voice called out to him.

A sultry and booming voice, one compiled of millions of collective voices, actually. An entity that simply called itself 'The Darkness' reached out to the distraught spirit- offering Cecil power, resolve, and the ability to get revenge against everyone who made his life so miserable. Unsure at first, the all-powerful eldritch god promised Cecil everlasting splendors, and that getting revenge/inflicting suffering on everyone who ever wronged him would bring him peace. And with peace, maybe, just maybe, a chance to see his fiancé. Cecil leapt at the chance, agreeing to bring forth as much pain and misery as humanly possible into the world of the living.

And thus Typhon V was born, his spirit possessing his still rotting corpse- and his darkness tainting and corrupting the already rotting body into something no longer human. Now having a rabbit-skull-like face to cover his own rotting face below it, long and gangly ears, and generally disproportionate features for a human. Ironically, he got to keep the gloves he once drew nonstop- now forever a piece of him and his attire.

Typhon V is no longer Cecil- even if he may have remnants of who he once was. Only hate and a desire to bring forth suffering upon his victims remain. Like a Shakespearean, he was reborn from the tortured soul of Cecil, a tragic figure whose life was marred by despair and addiction. Typhon V's genesis was thus marked by a harrowing demise—a consequence of the vices and suffering that ultimately consumed him. Bound by his insatiable thirst for retribution against the people he views failed him, he emerged from the depths of the beyond, like a plague soon to be unleashed, twisted, and malformed. He first targeted his family, slowly but surely picking off all the Cuminottos, often the cause of death being deduced as a 'Suicide'. However, even after their demise came no salvation- as Typhon kept them in a personal hellscape of his own design- a horrific personal little world where the souls of his victims reside. This black-and-white world, not too different from an old-school Disney cartoon, is where the demon regularly plays Cat and Mouse with unfortunate victims' souls who've been caught.

[purplecowbell]

Are We Writing Fantasy Species Correctly?

Let me paint a picture that may be familiar to the average fantasy fan. In a world with only one distinct human culture, the humans are surrounded on all sides by the other races. The Elves are living in their forests and are snooty, or wise, or druidic hermits. The Dwarves live in the mountains as either warriors, or miners, or crafters. Goblins are either greedy, or envious, or dirty kleptomaniacs. The evil Orc raiding parties terrorize all the kingdoms. What is this world supposed to represent?

Many accuse that many fantasy and science fiction races are racist. Often they do have merit. Indeed, some depict other sentient humanoid beings as being biologically evil or have their culture taken directly from racist propaganda. But some critics argue that most depictions of “races” as being inherently racist are due to them being bio essentialist in nature. But how else can there be different species? If there is no change in biology, there can’t be fantastical races or species. There can be differences in biology, but what many fantasy writers fail to consider is that the use of species isn’t racist because they don’t depict one race as evil, but because the lines between races become biological certainties rather than social constructs.

For as long as fantasy and fantastical stories have existed, human-shaped creatures have been metaphors for something else. Greek Gods were metaphors for forces of nature, ghosts were representatives of an unresolved past, and fairies were (among many things) landmarks for the contemporary norms. But when writers try to make fantastical races that cast a shadow and bleed like anyone, the metaphor no longer becomes one of greater laws and trends but instead about people and populations. And to look at the history of this trend in fantasy we have to examine the grandfather that crystalized the genre: J.R.R. Tolkien.

The Origin

Tolkien, in his grand epic, drew from what many fantasy writers at the time drew from: religion and myth. He borrowed heavily from Norse mythology and their heroic tales for his protagonists, but also a dividing line between the Good races and the Evil ones (yes, he did borrow a stark line between Good and Evil, that is an assumption of cosmology and how species might work that is not assumed). But then he had those forces fight in a haunting depiction of the horrors of war he personally experienced. Many points he made about war were valid or outright correct: he values not the weapons but what they fight for, one must fight for what’s right and push through despairing times, and that the horrors of war irrevocably change people. But the problem with these metaphors, both the cosmological structure and the metaphors of war, is that they do not mix with each other without some worrying implications. Trying to make a realistic war using unrealistic people on one side says something (whether he means to or not) about real wars. World War 1 did not occur between literal angels and demons; it happened between people. The people he fought were not biologically more evil than him, and the enemy had their own civilians who weren’t responsible for the actions of their country. And the people he fought with weren’t biologically determined to be on the right side. Tolkien did not set the story during the Third Age’s civil war, with humans fighting humans, what actually happened in WW 1. He set it during a war with a clean and solid line between the countries, cultures, and races. All the good Kingdoms of Men, Elves, and Dwarves fought bravely against Sauron and his nation of soldiers. I’m not saying he did this in bad faith, but I think too many people haven’t noticed the nuance and repeated the foundation of fantastical races without improving.

The Result

You see it all the time in fantasy, with too many examples to count. How many times have you seen a world where there’s only one human nation surrounded by nations consisting of only one race each? Or, failing that, how many times have you seen a world where all human nations are specifically European and only other species have vastly different cultures? They’re in young adult novels, comic books, cookie-cutter fantasy manga, and most predominantly, it’s seen in games, both video and tabletop roleplaying. It’s especially concerning that it’s seen in engaging media like video games or TTRPGs (table top role playing games). I understand why, often the decision is economic or due to laziness. If every species can be a part of every country, then you need one model for each species for each country, much more efficient if each country has only one species, but those economic decisions negatively impact amateur creative ones. TTRPGs are a method of play that encourages — and sometimes requires — people to start making their own worlds and write their own stories. If everyone gets into the practice of imagining worlds with these divisions, they may not break out of it as they create stories outside of the system. Now I’m not saying all writers are making stories where one species is Good and one is Evil, that’s not as common nowadays. But defining nations and cultures by species makes a metaphor about real life whether the author intends for it to or not. What it does is establish the social construct of race into a biological fact without any distinction of nuance. Worse is when the non-human races are given traits that justify their own oppression. But I’m not addressing those that want to justify racism, I’m addressing well-meaning people who want to avoid this trend that fantasy can’t seem to move past.

The Solutions

There are three solutions we have for this trend: and none of them require writing a comprehensive epic covering every aspect of the world and race. The first is to represent our real world races as humans. By having more representation, the writer proves they understand all humans aren’t biologically separated. This gives a lot more breathing room for the use of nations and cultures of other species. This solution is best for those that want to explore the other species as actually alien as opposed to “weird” humans. By actively recognizing the actual diversity of humanity, one’s perception of humanity and its hypothetical relationship with another species is better solidified as being truly something other than human.

The second option is to narrow your lens of focus without cutting reference to others. A lot of simple fantasy does narrow its focus down to one kingdom, but the problem is that they narrow it down to the point of cutting off contact, relations, or even reference to other countries and races to the point that readers may assume they’re the only countries in this world. There’s a difference between setting a story in New York City and setting it in a New York City with the only reference to other places are the evil Lizardfolk that resemble rural stereotypes. You can narrow the lens while including the existence of trade routes, treaties, or other intercultural relations.

And the final option is to not have it matter. But you can’t just not care, you have to commit to not caring. You have to make all fantasy “races” literally have no cultural differences or divisions at all. For this option you can make elves, orcs, goblins, and dwarves not different species, but just a type of human mutation that some people have (for the last example they literally exist in real life). Goblins don’t have to be vermin representing corruption on two legs, they can just be humans who happen to be short and have a green skin disorder due to random alchemical mutations that have passed down. There isn’t a “nation of elves” separate from The Kingdom of Men; there just happen to be businessmen, or rednecks, or fast food workers in Urban Fantasy America that check “elvish” on their medical files for blood transfusions. Think of them more like the My Hero Academia “quirks” or just have it as an aesthetic for readers, players, and other contributors to have fun with.

To my fellow sympathetic writers, don’t fall into the trap of putting too much focus on making diverse cultures and personalities for each of the species. It’s good, the “Planet of Hats” trope is boring for most of us, but it distracts from the problem. If the only representation of a religion, ethnicity, or culture is found in another species, the work is still suggesting they’re somehow biologically separate from humans, otherwise known as “normal” people. Don’t get me wrong, if you want to write Jewish Elves or Taoist Orcs, go for it, the exploration of the self through reflection of the other is great. But putting those traits only into the biological “other,” might send the wrong message. Don’t forget those differences are within each other too.

Medium link

[lairofdragonagelore]

Arbor Wilds: Temple of Mythal - Part 1

Main Quest: What Pride Had Wrought

The Arbor Wilds is a thick forest located south of the Dales in Orlais. As most of the forest is uncharted and unexplored, many that daringly venture into this alien-like land never return. Some believe that dryads inhabit the area. In fact the "Sentinels"—Sentinel elves— guard the land against outsiders. Many ancient Elven ruins lay dormant and abandoned within the forest, rich with ancient elven artefacts and treasures, such as the Temple of Mythal.

This post contains the following sections

The Forest

The Gates of the Temple of Mythal

[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]

[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]

The forest

With Morrigan’s advice, we head to the Temple of Myhtal, thinking that Corypheus wants an Eluvian to cross the in-between planes and access to the Fade physically. However, it’s never explained in the game why and how Corypheus would get “godhood” powers just by accessing the Fade.

This dense forest is filled with elvhenan ruins and statues. Usually the archer statues are used to guide us to the entrance of the temple. We find the typical elven statues: Elven hart statue, Elven Archers, Howling Fen'Harel statue, Elven Owl statue and Sitting Fen'Harel statue. 

It seems this forest had a lot more of structures that were reclaimed by nature. We can see the remaining ceilings of enormous chambers. I assume that, considering what we learn in Ancient Elven codices, Temple of Mythal, if we are reaching the Temple of Mythal, it is likely that a big set of buildings would have grown around it, as the cities used to do around the main temple. Probably the remnants of this city is what we see along the jungle. [The Temple of Mythal]

We also find along the path Red Templar encampments which have little to offer.

At some point we kill a sentinel, and the game brings our attention to their unique design: they don’t look Dalish. They are bulkier and bald. The armour of these elvhens can be seen in detail here. I find it curious how they pauldron and knee protectors are made in the shape of a face, iconography more typical of Orlais, because in Orlais’ case, it represents Andraste. Would this mean that for these elvhens, this face in their armour is a representation of Mythal?

Hard to tell. Mythal’s face has never been seen in her iconography, not even in her concept art.

The Gates of the Temple of Mythal

When we finally reach the entrance of the Temple, we notice it is surrounded by a lake, a configuration that may be considered similar to the Citadel du Corveau, in the Exalted Plains [main fortress surrounded by water].

The entrance to the temple is flanked by two Dragon Myhtal statues that work like a defence system as we see when Corypheus tries to force his entrance to the temple. In the background we have some enormous Humanoid Mythal statues, and a bridge made of yellow/brown mosaics [typically found in elvhenan buildings, easily seen at the final chamber of the The Lost Temple of Dirthamen or in the Cradle of Sulevin].

The temple lies on a circular platform surrounded by Elven hart statues.

The entrance door has the typical dragon-like shape associated with the dragon form of Myhtal. As usual in Elvhenan design, the frame of this door is surrounded by typical elvhean patterns.

The cinematics of Corypheus forcing his entrance while the sentinels defend the temple shows to us that after Corypheus is stricken by a deadly ray that comes from  Dragon Myhtal statues, and dies disintegrated, he is reborn in a Grey Warden [blighted creature]. This process is exactly the same that Archdemons have. This is a hint for us to suspect that Blight (magic?) allows a kind of effective immortality. 

Then Corypheus' dragon appears and the whole group has to run across the bridge and close the door of the temple before it attacks, giving us access to the main section of the Temple: the rituals [aka puzzles]

Arbor Wilds: Temple of Myhtal - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

[bambi-lesbian-posts]

I'm certain I've talked about this before on here but whenever I see someone who like. Very sincerely believes in alien conspiracies (generally speaking, I mean those who believe in the humanoid green aliens who make crop circles and are much more advanced than us) I just sit there and think. Like. I'm certain Other Life exists or at least has the capability to exist. So to that effect, I do believe in aliens. But also. I think the Other Life is more than likely bacteria, rather than a species that is not only more advanced that human life but has also Visited Earth Before.

Which, if you ask me, is a much more interesting theory, because that means you can speculate its potential evolution and living environment. Because we (NASA specifically, i think) have been searching this galaxy and nearby galaxies for planets that are of a similar size and climate to Earth As It Is Right Now to find potential lifeforms. Which I think is a bit unrealistic and odd, because scientists recognize that Earth's bacteria started in completely different conditions from Modern Earth, and it is theorized that all plants and lifeforms developed from that very bacteria. SO.... planets with similar conditions to "baby Earth" would be more plausible if we're looking for Other Life in general, or at least the potential for Other Life, right? Which means warmer temperatures, higher concentration of minerals, an atmosphere that would definitely be considered unbreathable for Earth's creatures...

I also think that searching for Other Life in places similar to Earth is probably for the purpose of Traveling Safely to That Location etc etc but like. Aside from gaseous planets, it feels unrealistic to assume that climates and sizes and chemical composition(that sounds incorrect, but i mean planets with the same minerals and gases etc) similar to Earth are the only ones likely to support life because OUR life developed specifically for these conditions. In fact, we MADE these conditions. We had a whole range of bacteria that could not physically handle oxygen, only one type of bacteria on Earth could handle oxygen and that is because it produced it, effectively killing every other bacteria on the planet that couldn't escape to deep waters and volcanoes. So the lifeforms and the climate could have been Very Different from how it is now, and it's worth pointing out that there were lifeforms on this planet even before the climate changed.

I dont even know what I'm talking about here. I originally had a point but I got sidetracked and started just. Talking to myself. Lol.

[duhragonball]

What version of the Saiyan Tuffle War do you prefer: the Tufflew subjugated the Saiyans or the Saiyans just straight up obliterated the Tuffles

Between the two options, I think I prefer the first one, simply because all the Tuffle characters we've seen have been diabolical villains, and it sort of undermines them as bad guys if the Tuffles were innocent victims in the war. But that's just a personal preference.

I'm not suggesting that the Saiyans were all sweetness and light either. But it seems a little naive to have an advanced civilization just welcome a bunch of Saiyans onto their planet with no ulterior motives.

I say this because most of what we know about the Tuffles is based on Baby's appearances in Dragon Ball GT. Supposedly, Baby was created by the last survivors of the Tuffles, and they "infused" him with the genes of their king, whatever that means. Baby only had two objectives: to take revenge on the Saiyans, and to to convert or destroy all non-Tuffle life forms. And that's... pretty fucked up when you stop and think about it. Baby was such an over-the-top villain in GT that it was easy to just go along with whatever crazy shenanigans he was up to. But he was programmed by the Tuffles, and presumably the Tuffle King was totally on board with this. If he had lived to see Baby Vegeta ruling over the restored Tuffle Planet with the entire population of Earth infected with his nasty mind control eggs, the King would probably be pleased.

And yeah, the Tuffles would want revenge against the Saiyans, but what did Earth ever do to them? Or any of the other planets Baby menaced? You can make the argument that Baby was a doomsday weapon that went beyond the intentions of his creators, but I think he did exactly what the Tuffles wanted him to do.

And that begs the question: If Baby's reign of terror was the last gasp of the dying Tuffle species, then what sort of weird stuff were they up to before? I'll put some thoughts on this under the cut.

First off, I think it's kind of weird how there's not a clear picture of what a Tuffle is exactly. I went looking on the DB Wiki for some pictures and found this Tuffle design by Akira Toriyama.

That design prevailed in DBZ Episode 20, and also in Plan to Eradicate the Saiyans, when King Kai explains how the Tuffles welcomed the Saiyans to settle on their planet when they crashed there in a wrecked spaceship. The implication from Plan is that the Saiyans didn't just show up one day. They were refugees who needed help, and the Tuffles invited them with open arms.

But it's weird how the Tuffles in DBZ #20 are depicted as being much smaller than the Saiyans, but in Plan they're basically to scale with each other. Maybe that's a continuity glitch, and no big deal, but then you have Dr. Lychee, who looks like this:

He starts out as a regular-looking guy, and then he becomes this blue creature who looks a lot like a prototype for Baby. The blue form is supposed to be nothing more than one of the phantoms created by Hatchiyack in the OAV, like the phantom incarnations of Frieza, Turles, Cooler, and Slug. But those phantoms looked the same as the originals. Why does Lychee look so different? Is this a form that Tuffles can naturally assume?

Which brings me to Baby and his "Tuffle Parasites". By the end of his run in GT, Baby basically identified as a Tuffle, rather than a creation of the Tuffles. When he started infecting Earthlings with his eggs, he called them Tuffles too.

Then you've got Kamin and Oren from Super Dragon Ball Heroes. Apparently they're considered "Neo Machine Mutants", which are Tuffles modified become like Baby, for lack of a better explanation. I'm not sure if this was established in the DBGT days or not, but I guess the current lore is that Baby, Oren, and Kamin were natural Tuffles who were augmented into the form we see here.

I guess what I'm driving at here is that the Tuffles seem to have a very broad definition of what a Tuffle is. For them, it seems to be more about a way of thinking and feeling than any particular appearance or body plan. A machine can be a Tuffle. An Earthling infested with a parasite can be a Tuffle. So maybe those miniature humanoids in DBZ #20 were just one more variety of Tuffle.

I get a real transhumanist vibe from the Tuffles, particularly from the notion of archiving their King's DNA into Baby, and the way Dr. Lychee continued to exist as a "Ghost Warrior" after his natural death. Oh, and the Tuffles of Universe 6 augmented Kamin and Oren. That wasn't for revenge, by the way, they just wanted to see if they could do it, and apparently Kamin and Oren were outraged enough by this that they turned on their creators. Throughout the Dragon Ball franchise, the Tuffles are known for their advanced scientific knowledge, and also for making all these freaky creatures.

And maybe they weren't all evil. I wouldn't go that far. But I get the feeling that their leaders welcomed the Saiyans to their world because they saw a potential resource that they could exploit. Maybe they just wanted the Saiyans to pacify the uninhabited parts of their planet, or maybe they though the Saiyans could help them against other enemies. But maybe they saw the Saiyans as potential test subjects for their experiments. Just a thought.

I don't think the Tuffles necessarily subjugated the Saiyans, but it might have been more of a case of rising tensions. They lived in separate parts of the planet, with the Tuffles in the cities and the Saiyans in the wilderness, but the Saiyans grew more numerous, and the Tuffles probably saw that as a threat, and the Saiyans probably started to wonder why they needed the Tuffles at all. A lot of things might have instigated the war, but it wouldn't surprise me if the flashpoint involved Tuffles experimenting on Saiyan prisoners. If something like that came to light, then it would become a matter of survival. The Saiyans would have to wipe out the Tuffles to avoid being "Tuffleized" or worse. And the Tuffles would have to crush the Saiyans in battle to maintain control of the planet. There could be no return to the status quo; it would have to be total war until one side was completely defeated.

Once the war began, it must have taken a long time for the Saiyans to win. King Kai said that the lunar cycle on Planet Plant was eight years, and that each full moon allowed the Saiyans to gain ground in the war. So this implies that it took several full moons to end the war, so the conflict might have lasted decades, or maybe even a century. There might have been a few armistices or truces during that time, as each side would want to try to regroup and get as much momentum as possible before the next full moon. At least, that's how I'm picturing it.

One causus belli that sticks out in my mind is that the Tuffles were apparently a spacefaring people, but the Saiyans couldn't do much in space until they made contact with the Arcosians, and then King Cold's organization. So maybe the Tuffles were purposely keeping the Saiyans confined to Planet Plant, either to prevent them from escaping, or to isolate them from other civilizations. The Saiyans would take this poorly, I'm sure. So that might have a lot to do with it.

To be sure, the Saiyans of this era were real rat bastards, no doubt. I'm sure a lot of Tuffles of the time would make the argument that they were trying to contain the Saiyans as a matter of self-preservation, or even for the good of the greater universe. But I also suspect that the Tuffles aren't just friendly-looking anime folks. Creatures like Baby, Hatchiyack, Kamin, and Oren give us a peek into their more inhuman qualities, qualities that the Saiyans probably knew firsthand. It's possible that King Vegeta thought he was the one doing the universe a favor when he wiped the Tuffles out.

Something else to consider, in Episode of Bardock, we meet the Plantians, who were apparently the original inhabitants of Planet Plant. At some point, they were gone, and the Tuffles were living there instead, and then the Saiyans showed up and wiped out the Tuffles. So what happened to the Plantians? Did they just migrate to another world, leaving Plant empty for the Tuffles to move in? Or did the Tuffles do something to them? Food for thought.

[whoovesnassistant]

A Hello, A Thank You, And A Brain Dump.

Dear PwPP team,

     I am a recent fan, and I am quite an odd one. I am a lover of everything Doctor Who, so much so I have memorized everything about the Doctor and his interactions during the 2005 revival. Yet since I have watched basically all the doctor who media I had access to (Excluding the most recent season because it does not interest me in the slightest, no offence to 13’s actor) I was without any Doctor Who content that actually interested me.

      Well until I made a discovery. You see, when I was moving to a new house, I found a figure I did not remember owning. It looked like a My Little Pony version of Doctor number 10. It fascinated me because It was officially licensed! So, I went down a rabbit hole, and found a whole new Doctor Who community, lost to YouTube, or even, Internet time entirely.

       That’s a little bit of a dramatization, but the point still stands that I discovered something that a lot of people forgot. The thing is, I know nothing about the My Little Pony area of fandoms, but I found this new world of Doctor Who so fascinating. Not only that, but it was a whole community!

       It was intoxicating! Doctors that I’d never dream of! And actually seeing the doctor see something he truly did not know! But most of all… people who understood what made Doctor Who, Doctor Who.

       I’m not a My Little Pony fan, not in the slightest, but as a Doctor who fan, your series is beyond stellar! I know when people understand Doctor Who or not, and you all did know on a level I don’t even thing some real Doctor Who show writers do! Also, your adaptation of the doctor feels so real, it is just stellar! 

       So, now I have to thank you, all of you. You gave me hope about the future of Doctor who will be bright and full of life! You let me see a new world of story telling. I never saw audio plays used like a legitimate series to such effectiveness and its truly brilliant and has inspired me to try to work on something similar, in due time.

        Yet, lastly, thank you so much for the pure, utter joy your work emanates. Yet again, I’m only a Doctor Who fan, but this  series has genuinely gave me more enjoyment that some Doctor Who episodes. It is just, raw, stupid, enjoyable, and oh so timey-wimy fun! Even with some real Doctor Who-esc  dark/sad moments that makes it feel like I’m listening to a real BBC and Hasbro collaboration!

       In fact, the work of your team gave me a Idea for a episode I just couldn’t keep in my head. I know you most likely have plans for all the future audio plays, but I  am a story teller through and through, so consider the last part of this letter like a pitch. Yet again, I’m not trying to be entitled and be like “Here’s my idea, Now make it!”, no I literally have no other living soul to share this idea with and its killing me.

        Now if I had to title it, it would be a two part play called “Turn Timer” and “Pestering Past”. “Turn Timer” would start with the Tardis crew just bumbling around in time and space. Maybe heading from or to an adventure. Yet when the Tardis enters modern times, it gets thrown off course due to a temporal blackhole (Or something?) making the Tardis materialize in front of a mansion that should not exist, that stands right dead center in the Evergreen Forest (if I got it wrong don’t kill me). The master of the house would be a unicorn named Turn Timer, and would be letting any travelers stay.

       Yet when the Doctor reluctantly stays in a room, they discover that some of the travelers have been seeing a hairless ape-like creature attacking residence, even Turn Timer who would have been attacked, saying that they just popped up a few months ago and he’s been trying to cover it up for business.

      Soon, after the Doctor and Tick Tock (Sorry but I have to say this here, that name did NOT age well) go off without Derpy who does not quite trust Turn Timer because…. well I made the name reverse Time Turner for a reason. Yet both the Doctor and Tick Tock does not notice the clearly weird name, so that means duel plot! Yay!

       Eventually the smart duo would figure out that these creatures are just human like Autons. Yet, since humans, or even humanoids, don’t exist in this universe, this is extremely odd (at least I think,  I still know jack about My Little Pony). Also Imagine this would lead into some funny jokes about how the Doctor needs to explain what the hell a human is, and I just imagine Tick Tock confused Autons being exactly like humans and not just modeled by them.

       Meanwhile, Derpy would be grilling Turn Timer (Also again, only a Doctor Who fan but I can just imagine the Donna theme here and it makes me smile) and I Imagine that 70% of this second plot would be jokes. Until before the Auton realization, where Turn Timer makes the mistake of saying Doctor instead of Time Turner (Which I assume he would sign in as) and would be forced to knock out Derpy. Now, after they figure out the Autons are Autons, and the jokes are done, I’m guessing that Turn Timer would project some sort of communication hologram or magic thingy to the Doctor so they can have an exchange that goes along like this.

   TuTi   “Hello Doctor! Sorry but i did not expect for your assistant to be able to see past my perception field.”

 Doc    “ What did you do to Derpy Turn Timer?”

     TiTo “and what perception field?”

   TuTi “ Oh don’t be daft, Doctor! I swear ever since you regenerated you have become so thick! you can’t even see what is so clearly obvious!  You only know one person who would know the correct configuration for a humanoid Auton, and be smart enough to do it! ”

    Doc, in his serious voice, “ Who are you?”

     TuTi, Outraged “Don’t act like you don’t know! We are best friends! The bestest of friends that have ever existed. Long before you started taking your pets onto your Tardis.  You know deep down, and you are running away from it! Like you ran away from your universe! Our Universe! I am tired of seeing your adventures in this world like you did not live in another.”

    TiTo “Who are you then?”

    Doc, still serious “Don’t humor him”

      TuTi “ Oh Doctor….Can’t even ask your own questions anymore can you? How far you have fallen from what you once were. You once could snap your fingers and make army’s turn and run away. Now you can’t even keep your pets (Companions) on a tight enough leash anymore.”

      Doc “ Wait, fingers? how did you-”

     TuTi “Oh now you are getting it. Finally, we are getting back the Doctor that counts. My Doctor, The Oncoming Storm! The Great Exterminator! The Destroyer of Skaro! And lastly, The Timelord Victorious!”

     Doc panicked and angered yelling (Probably) “Who are you?”

     TuTi “ Finally…. Well… I am the master of the house.. the Master! Of the house.”

   That is where “Turn Timer” would end and go into “Pestering Past”, which would pick up with the Master finishing his evil monolog and him and Derpy being in some sort of cave with the Masters Tardis being rigged as a paradox machine. Derpy would probably be in some sort of status field but still being able to interact with the Master.

     I am sure they would discuss why the Master was so obsessed with getting the Doctor to recognize him. The fact that in the Doctor Who universe,  The Master was so utterly empty without his “Best Friend” he could not stand to exist in a world without him, So he tracked the Doctor down, even through different universes just so he could have fun with his “Best Friend”.

     Also probably  telling Derpy more about the Doctor than he has. And most likely telling stories about when the Doctor was very angry, and why he is the last of the timelords.  I thought this would be a very interesting thing to pop up later on, a Derpy is wondering if the Doctor is worth being around if they could do such a thing then turn around and say its horrid.

    On the topside, I’m imagining the Doctor more scared and upset than seen in your audio plays. The fact that he came to a whole new universe, a place to make a new start and have less weight to carry, has been shattered by probably the only person that could have followed him. And to make it worse, it was someone who knows almost as much as the Doctor without his self control, and knowledge of his past life.

     When the Doctor and the New Master meet face to face, I imagine it would be a battle of chaotic personalities on each side. Also, In my characterization of the Master, I think he would be sarcastically energetic to counteract the Doctors normal energetic craziness. Also, for the hell of it, let’s make the Master obsessed with pegasi instead of unicorns because narrative symbolism.

      Lastly, we would learn that creatures that don’t belong in the world of My Little Pony (Cybermen and Terror are my best examples) where caused by the Masters Paradox machine. This gives a reason why they appeared and connects things in a neat little bow. Also gives a reason for Tick Tock to be mad too, due to the fact that the Master indirectly fueled the war he lost his family and time period for.

      And that’s all I have. I don’t know how it would end except I think the Master would snatch Derpys Tardis key to use it to make something to keep tabs on the Tardis crew.

     I’m sorry that half of this thank you and appreciation letter was more about my ideas than how I adore yours. Everyone on the PwPP crew to me is absolutely stellar! You all have made something truly amazing from a Doctor Who story telling standpoint. Lastly, please have fun making your audio plays or whatever you go on to do. It breaks my heart watching people create and have no fun in it.

With love and appreciation,

Raven.

We’re happy this show has brought you plenty of Doctor Who entertainment, even if you’re not an MLP fan. It’s always fun to learn about people who are generally a fan of one but not the other, who are still big fans of our series.

We aren’t really taking any ideas since we have a solid outline of what the rest of the episodes will be, and we can’t really reveal what characters might be appearing later. Your idea was a fun take on the Master though, perhaps consider writing a fanfic, as I’m sure people would enjoy it and we’ll be willing to post fanfics here.

[saintandsinnerwrites]

A/N: Saint and I decided to try to write this prompt collaboratively. (Also somehow I managed to delete the ask so here’s a screenshot lmao) I primarily wrote Jan and she did Rosé. It was a fun way to fill this prompt. Let us know if you enjoyed our little collab 😘 -Sinner

CW: monsterfucking, inhuman anatomy, and blasphemy probably

Blacklist tag cwmonsterfucking if you’d rather sit this one out 💖

-

Jan couldn’t deny there was something strange about the sorority house, but she liked the girls so much that she’d accepted her bid and pledged. Education was now over and it was time for initiation.

Jan did think it was odd that the ritual was one at a time instead of all together as a pledge class, but each night at midnight one of the pledges would go down to the basement alone for their initiation ritual and tonight it was Jan’s turn. She had to admit she was a little nervous.

Denali had been in her pledge class and had been initiated the night before and she’d told Jan not to be scared and just ‘let it happen’, whatever that meant.

Jan was dressed all in white as an angel, complete with wings and a halo, her soon to be full sisters all in black as they prepared Jan for her initiation. She held her big Jackie’s hand, waiting for them to tell her it was time.

When it was, she descended quietly to the basement, not sure what to expect. The whole sorority was upstairs. Surely it was nothing too bad? All the girls were nice and sweet. She couldn’t imagine them doing anything bad to her.

Jan looked around the fairly plain basement. Oddly, the only thing down there was a plush bed. Jan looked under it. Nothing. She sat on the side and waited for something to happen...

Rosé looked on from the shadows when the girl was led downstairs for her initiation. An angel costume, huh? Well that was certainly interesting, and she smirked to herself knowing damn well the other girls did that on purpose. Jan was her name as she had overheard Jan's sorority sisters talking about this very day. She knew Jan had no idea what was about to happen, none of them did. They were just led to the bed to await their fate, but all the girls loved every moment of their little ritual. After a couple minutes Rosé decided to speak to her, but still stayed cloaked in the darkness. “Are you excited about your initiation? Anxious? Curious?"

Jan jumped at little at the unexpected voice and then gasped at the owner of the voice. The... creature? Beast? Devil? was completely red, furry in parts with hair horns, large inhuman ears, and long nails or claws, but a still rather humanoid appearance.

Jan was surprised, but the creature was smiling at her. She was pretty, with a curvy figure and a handsome face. “Very curious. Are you the one initiating me?” She had wondered who would do the actual ritual with the whole sorority upstairs. “Who are you?”

"I am." Rosé chuckled, mainly to herself. Bless this girl. She was so fucking cute. “I'm the Devil, baby. But you can call me Rosé"

Maybe it was the years of Catholic schooling but Jan just stared at her. She was so humanoid it occurred to Jan, a theater kid herself, that this was probably an actress in a costume. “The Devil huh? You don’t look like The Devil. The one and only?”

"Tell me, what exactly do you expect the Devil to look like?"

“The most beautiful of God’s angels, Lucifer Morningstar, who became Satan himself, The Devil. You are not he?” Jan looked at her skeptically. “I would have paid a lot more attention in religious studies if the devil had looked like you.”

"I am going to stop you right there at 'he'. God, nor I, the Devil, are men or male presenting at all. But we all know the human men writing everything down hated women, so here we are. With yet another inaccurate portrayal of the divine and the damned. Though, I don't consider myself damned in any way, just a hedonist, babe."

Jan frowned. “Is this part of the initiation ritual?” This actress was really into this role...

"I like to correct those who still believe the falsehoods those so-called churches taught them. But no, it's not. The initiation ritual is much more physical."

“Physical?” Jan stood up. She was a cheerleader and a soccer player. She could do physical. “What do I do?”

Rosé walked over to her and pulled her close, "I can tell you're curious about me. Touch me."

Jan couldn’t lie. She was very curious about this devil. “Your costume and prosthetics are incredible.” She very gently stroked an ear, not expecting it to be warm and responsive to her touch. “Oh!”

"That's because it's not a costume, baby," she said with a chuckle. "Also, it's quite appropriate that you're dressed as an angel. Or maybe it's inappropriate, considering the circumstances."

“Inappropriate?” She asked quizzically. She was starting to wonder if this wasn’t a costume. “What do you mean?”

"Do you realize what being dressed up as an angel means for this initiation?"

“...isn’t everyone?” She hadn’t seen Denali dressed as an angel yesterday. But like her she’d likely arrived in just her white dress.

"No, lovely, only virgins are dressed as angels," Rosé purred.

Jan assumed that was part of the initiation, not realizing fully what Rosé meant. “Oh is that why full sisters wear black? They get ‘devirginized’?” She made air quotes.

"Essentially, yeah, it mainly signifies that their ritual is already complete, but no longer being a virgin is just part of the territory," Rosé explained, tipping Jan's head up to face her. "Do you get what I'm saying, darling?"

Jan studied her eyes and then realized. She blushed deeply. “Oh!”

Rosé pulled Jan into her lap and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "I'll make it good for you, baby. I've always made every single girl I've been with cum fucking hard. I'd never hurt you, I'm only about pleasure."

Jan blushed deeper. “I’ve never even been kissed before,” she admitted.

Her brows rose, "Never? You're too cute to have never been kissed."

Jan blushed. “I went to Catholic school my whole life. This year is the first year I’ve ever been away from home. And I just don’t like any of the boys here?” She blushed. “I’ve never liked a boy actually. Any boy.” She blushed deeper. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” But Jan did feel safe and comfortable around Rosé...

"You're in luck, baby, because this entire sorority is a bunch of lesbians," she cackled. "But I am glad you're opening up to me, I don't like to fuck anyone who I don't get to know at least a little bit."

Rosé gently tilted her head up to look at her again and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She wanted to rectify the little issue of Jan never being kissed immediately. Her lips were soft and sweet and Rosé knew that kissing her would be blissful each and every time. She understood why Jan wasn't allowed to have any sort of sexual experience, but it was still a travesty in her eyes.

She loved that Jan was getting more comfortable around her, and more comfortable with intimacy in general, but she would still take it slower with her. At least until Jan asked for more, and not to be a little cocky, but Rosé knew that once they got into it, she would absolutely be begging for more.

"Tell me what you want, baby~"

Jan stared at her wide-eyed and innocent. “I don’t know what I want. Isn’t it a set ritual?”

"Right. Catholic," Rosé snickered. "And no, certainly not. The ritual is individualized. Here, let me show you."

She carefully pushed her back onto the plush bed, running her hands down her body. When she trailed them back up, she pushed her dress up with her. Leaning down over her, she pressed more kisses to her jaw and down her neck. She still took it slow, looking for any cues of hesitation, but found that Jan was giving her none thus far.

Jan wore simple white cotton panties under her dress. She certainly hadn’t expected for anyone to see them. But she didn’t feel shame, only curiosity about what Rosé was going to do to initiate her. Her nipples felt sensitive and she felt a heat in her lower belly. This was all so new and unexpected.

Rosé gave her another kiss, one that was deeper, this time pushing her tongue into her mouth with a little more force. Her fingers found their way between her legs, rubbing at her through her panties. Little by little she would bring Jan's arousal forth, making her soaking wet and fucking needy for her.

Jan gasped, knowing this was naughty, taboo and forbidden. Was she going to Hell for this? Absolutely. But Jan didn’t care. It felt so good. It didn’t take long at all for her to feel things she’d never felt before and didn’t fully understand, but she knew that she needed Rosé to keep going and give her more. “Please...” she whimpered. “Please.”

"You're so cute," Rosé chuckled against Jan's skin before she sucked on her neck. She kept rubbing at her, but now her fingers were against flesh and she could feel just how wet Jan was getting. With claws retracted, she pushed one of them inside the blushing girl beneath her. Slowly she'd prepare her, make sure she was fully worked open so she would have an amazing first experience.

Jan gasped as her fingers slid inside. She’d expected them to be sharp, as she’d seen her claws, but they weren’t. There were so many new good sensations going on Jan couldn’t process them all. She bared her neck, surrendering to the experience. Denali had told her to just let it happen and finally she knew what she meant. She whimpered. “Rosé! Please! I need more.”

"Well, someone's getting into it~ But that's okay, I love that you are." She slid another finger into her, fingering her faster and a little harder, maybe she'd make her come on her fingers first. Having a multiple orgasms never hurt anyone.

Jan gripped her furry shoulders. “Please! It feels so good!” Her hips rocked against the fingers inside her, eagerly chasing after her own pleasure. “I never knew it was this amazing.”

"You never got the chance to experience it," Rosé purred in her ear. She worked her deeper, faster, loving that she was chasing her own pleasure at this point. The poor girl deserved it. She also assumed that she had never touched herself so this was the first time she experienced any sort of pleasure like this.

Jan was losing her mind. Why had she be warned away from this for so long? Thank goodness she had great core muscles so she could rock herself onto Rosé’s fingers, because she was desperate for more at this point. “Rosé!!”

"Do you think you can handle a third finger, baby~?" she asked, wanting to be sure before she gave her more.

Jan nodded. “Please! I’ll take anything you give me.”

"Let's just keep it to my fingers for right now, babe." She did add a third one though, knowing that Jan really could take it. She was so wet and so needy, she was well aware Jan's body craved this so fucking badly and Rosé was going to be the one to give it to her.

Jan had never felt like this before. She clung to Rosé like her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the feeling.

Rosé could see that she had reached that intense climax. She fingerfucked her through it until her body slumped back down onto the pillows beneath her signaling that she was fully spent from her first orgasm. Rosé wasn't going to go right into the next one, instead she wanted Jan to come down from this one and relax for a moment. She has never had these sorts of experiences before, and Rosé did not want to overload her.

"Are you doing all right?"

It took Jan a second to regain control enough to nod. Her breathing was ragged, but she’d never felt better.

Rosé pulled her fingers out of her and licked them clean before wiping them off on the sheets. "I take it you enjoyed that~"

She nodded. “I never realized it was like that.”

"Well, now you know, love~"

Jan bit her lip. She wondered if that was it, her initiation complete. She kinda hoped there was more.

She stroked a furry shoulder tenderly. “I do... but I feel like there’s so much more I don’t know...”

"I'm not done with you yet, I just don't want it to be too much at once."

“I’m ready for more, even if I don’t know what that is. Please, Rosé. Will you show me?”

"I love how eager you are now," she murmured against her lips before kissing her. "I'll definitely show you."

Rosé sat up and pulled Jan's panties off. She unlaced he dress and let it fall off her so that she was completely naked beneath her. Gently, she caressed her skin, running her fingers between her breasts right down to her pelvis. Goddamn, she was so gorgeous, she could get lost just touching her, kissing her, so much so that she had to pull herself back down to earth for a second. She didn't want Jan to feel exposed though, and it was only fair that she get rid of her own clothing too. Her garment had a long, full body zipper making it easy to take it off.

Jan hadn’t realized how much of that was clothing as the devil was suddenly naked before her. Jan gently reached out and touched her, like Rosé had done to her. “You’re stunning...”

"Yeah~? Tell me something I don't know, babe." She laughed, "Thank you though, I'm glad you think so. You are too, absolutely fucking gorgeous. I can't wait to ravish you, to have you moaning and mewling underneath me."

Jan blushed, her thighs rubbing together shyly. “May I ask, is it true that if you don’t put it in... the front it doesn’t count?”

Rosé was so taken aback by that question, but didn't show it on her face. God, these poor humans really were fucked when it came to, well, fucking. She hated how taboo sex was in the mortal realm, all because of how virginity was basically worshipped in her adversary's religion. It irked her to no end, because most humans wanted to engage in sex and they deserved to have actual education on the subject so they can keep their sex lives fun and safe.

"That is absolutely false. Anal sex is sex, and it counts. That is just a stupid ploy perpetuated by stupid boys who want girls to sleep with them. It can be pleasurable when done correctly, but for your first time it will feel so much better right here," she said as she slid her fingers down between her legs.

Jan blushed. “Sorry it’s all just so new to me. But I trust you. And I want you.”

"You don't have to apologize, lovely." She kissed her again. "Also, tell me if anything gets too intense, okay. I don't want you to think you don't have a say in your own pleasure."

Jan nodded. “Thank you. Shall we get started?” She didn’t know how to do it but she trusted Rosé.

"Of course, love~ But I will warn you, my anatomy is not the same as yours, or any human's honestly. I mean, I can mimic it to be that way, but normally it's like this," she said, letting her tentadick come forth and rub against her.

Jan gasped. “Oh!” She hadn’t expected it to be able to stroke her on its own. Did men have that in their pants too?? She bit her lip. “Will I... will I get pregnant?”

"No, babe, I'll make sure of that. Magick and all. And to answer your other question, because I know you're thinking it, no men don't have this," she told her with a smug smirk. As if a man could live up to what she was about to give her.

Jan blushed. “You can read my mind?”

"No, not really, but I just knew you were thinking about that." She chuckled a little as she continued to tease Jan. Still rubbing at her, wanting her to be a whining, desperate mess before pushing inside.

"How much do you want this, baby?"

Jan blushed. “Oh.” She rocked her hips, loving how it felt at her entrance. “I want it so badly,” she purred. “I’ve never felt this good before.”

"That's my girl."

Rosé started to enter her inch by inch, making sure she was okay as she gave her shallow thrusts at first. She wanted to make sure Jan could take it before going deeper. Rosé could tell that Jan was already completely hers, and she couldn't help but to let that go to her ego, just a little bit.

"Goddamn you feel so good."

Jan scooted down so that Rosé could get deeper into her, so eager for it all. She felt... full but in the best way possible, loving the sensations of Rosé pushing inside her slowly. “Ohhh you do too!”

Rosé's movements started to quicken, and she gave it to her somewhat rougher, still being careful of the fact that this was her first time. Of course, Jan was doing nothing but moaning her head off and Rosé took that as a sign to keep going, increasing her pace little by little. "I've heard you're quite the vocalist~ Let's see how loud I can make you sing."

Jan wasn’t ashamed of the sounds she made, didn’t even know that was a thing most people would be ashamed of. As an athlete and a singer, Jan had excellent lung capacity and vocal abilities. “You want me to sing for you?” She asked breathily, so caught up in the pleasure of it all.

"I mean, I'm going to make you sing regardless."

Rosé grabbed her hips and started to fuck her hard now that she was worked open and oh so willing to take it all. Watching Jan's eyelids flutter closed, her mouth open with such sweet sounds coming from it, along with her nice tits bouncing with each thrust made Rosé love this even more. She wasn't sure what to expect with Jan being so closed off from sex, and so innocent at first, but now? Now, she was sure she'd end up like Denali and Mik.

Jan raised her hips up to meet Rosé’s thrusts, gripping the blankets as she moaned loudly, trying to sing for Rosé just like she wanted, enjoying every second of it all. Jan vaguely wondered if her sisters above could hear her singing out for the demon.

Rosé reached between her legs and started to rub at her, "I want you to cum for me, baby. I want you to cum fucking hard.”

Jan whimpered. She was close but she wanted more. Jan chased Rosé’s touch, crying out loudly as she squirted.

Rosé grabbed her hips and fucked her through it, groaning as she chased her pleasure this time. She'd make her cum again, she'd make her cum three, four times before the night was through at this rate. She knew she was overly sensitive now and it would be so easy to destroy her completely.

Jan gripped her shoulders, clinging to her, desperate for more. She wouldn’t mind if the Devil turned her over and switched so she could take her from behind. Honestly, she wouldn’t mind whatever Rosé wanted to do to her. She was so utterly hers.

Rosé leaned down and murmured in her ear, "Do you want more, baby~?"

“So much more,” Jan panted. She was energized and greedy for more. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

Rosé knew that all the other girls loved it when she turned them over and fucked their brains out, and so she'd do the same for the cute little Catholic girl who just lost her virginity to the Devil herself. That in and of itself was hot as fuck. She pulled out and flipped her over before sliding back in all the way to the hilt.

"Fuck~" Rosé moaned.

Her lips found her neck, kissing the warm skin and giving Jan a little love bite there, just something to remember her by after the fact. She kissed down her shoulder blade and took in all her cute sounds she was making at all the touches and kisses. Rosé sat back up, grabbed her hips and continued to ruin her, able to fuck her even deeper now.

"Fucking take it, take everything I give you. I know you love it, you little slut~”

Jan moaned her pretty little head off, absolutely loving this new position. “Give me everything, please! I’m yours! I’m your little slut!”

"Damn right you are, you and all your sisters love my big cock inside your tight little cunts," she cackled, giving Jan a spank. "Did those uptight nuns ever spank your cute ass with their rulers?"

Jan blushed. “No, I was a good girl.”

"I'm not even surprised by that, you've been such a good girl for me too~"

“I wanna be the best,” she admitted.

"The competitive type then, I take it?" Rosé chuckled.

“I played soccer for years,” she confirmed. “I always like to win. I have to be the best.”

Rosé couldn't help but to snicker a little, oh playing on her competitive nature would be fun. But perhaps another time, for now she just wanted her to feel good and cum as many times before she was completely exhausted.

Jan had to wonder if Denali had been like this too, as her sister was just as competitive as she was. But she didn’t really want to think about her right now when she had this lovely devil absolutely destroying her in the best way.

“Harder, please!”

She grabbed the back of Jan's neck and shoved her face into the pillows as she fucked even harder, not holding back. She knew at this point Jan wanted every single thing she had to give and that she could take it. It was cute how Jan went from blushing virgin who had never even been kissed to a moaning little slut wanting the devil's cock to destroy her pussy. It was a wonderful turn of events.

Jan didn’t stop to think about anything but the pleasure of the moment. She’d never realized sex could be like this. Why had she been denied this for so long? She didn’t want to give this up.

“Are you only around for initiations?” she inquired.

Rosé snickered, "No, baby, I can fuck you whenever you want~ Well, as long as someone else doesn't have me already."

Jan pouted. She definitely needed to be the best now. She pushed herself back into Rosé thrusts, trying to get her as deep as possible. “But I need you,” she moaned.

Rosé knew damn well that little quip would bring out her competitive nature. She had to wonder if Jan and Denali would try to compete for her tentadick, that would be amusing to say the least. "Don't worry, baby, if you really think that I can't satisfy you and all your sorority sisters, then you don't know me at all."

“Oh I have no doubts you can satisfy me. Or anyone lucky enough to share your bed.” Jan just wanted it to be her all the time.

"Is someone feeling a little selfish? A little envious~? A little lustful?" she purred in her ear. "That's cute~ Give in to all those feelings, baby."

Jan knew this was a sin... many sins actually, but she didn’t care. She needed Rosé to want her as badly as she wanted her. “Yes. I want you so badly. I don’t want to have to give you up. I wanna keep going as long as I physically can.”

"I can go all night, darling, and you know I will give in to any temptation~" Rosé purred. And she would, she'd give it to her as long as she could stand it, but she knew that Jan was getting to the point of exhaustion just by the energy that vibrated around her.

Jan kept giving it her all, trying to impress the demon with how much she could get it, but she was definitely tired. She’d cum... five times? six? She’d lost count. But she wanted to be the one the demon came to. This was the demon she’d cling to. She’d made her choice. “Rosé!” she cried out.

Rosé had held off long enough and she was full on animalistic, and she grabbed Jan's hips and fucked her hard until she came just as hard inside her. She fucked her through her orgasm until she was completely spent. "Fuck... goddamn that sweet cunt of yours was amazing."

Jan panted, utterly spent. She’d cum so hard when the demon did that she barely registered the words and could only moan in affirmation. She reached for Rosé, for her hand, for some kind of affirmation that she’d done well.

Rosé pressed a kiss to the back of her head and murmured in her ear, "You were wonderful, babe~"

Jan attempted to turn around but she couldn’t quite manage. She just wanted to face the demon and be held by her for a bit.

She pulled out of her and laid down beside her, pulling her close and giving her a kiss on the forehead. Despite who she was, she sure as fuck wasn't going to leave a girl alone with no aftercare. After all, she was a hedonist, she wasn't evil.

Jan snuggled closer, kissing the crook of Rosé’s neck where she’d curled into. She needed the closeness.

"You doing okay babe?"

Jan nodded. “I just need you to hold me for a bit...”

"Of course, lovely. I'm not just going to leave you."

Jan smiled. “That was...” she didn’t quite have the words for it but she offered a soft smile. It was incredible, pleasurable, and so much more than Jan had ever expected it to be. She hadn’t anticipated losing her virginity to a demon... but that was something she’d have to come to terms with later. Right now she just wanted to cuddle.

"Mmm, just rest, baby." Rosé kissed her forehead and trailed her fingers through her hair. She knew this was a lot for the girl, the sexually repressed Catholic virgin at that. Rosé didn't see it as a ruining, she saw it as an awakening. She always thought it was unfortunate that so many women don't have amazing sex, that they settle for mediocre, or even bad sex, that they don't know how to ask for it, or to pleasure themselves. She also hated the fact that so many women didn't get the aftercare they needed after intense sex, but that is exactly why she wanted to open the eyes of these women.

Jan drifted off, feeling safe and cherished in the arms of the demon.

Rosé pressed another kiss to her forehead, letting her rest against her, knowing that she was exhausted after that rigorous session. She was glad that Jan got to experience this, and that she enjoyed it as much as she did. She also couldn't help but to be a little smug about being Jan's first...

Upstairs they got the signal that Jan’s initiation was complete. Denali went with Jackie to go fetch Jan and tuck her in. They took her upstairs and got her into her bed.

Denali climbed in with her and held her close. “I’ll stay with her, Jackie.” Denali couldn’t wait to hear all about Jan’s first time, especially since they’d heard her singing. The story was bound to be good.

[maximumsnow]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Faith (Airdorf Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: John Ward (Faith Video Game), Amy Martin (Faith Video Game) Additional Tags: Michael is kinda here too but not the main focus, yet anyway, First game has five endings but here's another one because I don't have problems, Faith Crisis, Other note John is Specifically called A Young Priest so he's like mid-twenties here, Canon typical violence referenced, I've been calling the verse this leads into the demon children au, But I'm not sure how much further I want to go with dedicated writing, So enjoy this and I may or may not come back with more.

Summary:  What if John was able to speak with Amy at the end instead of only having the option to shoot her or leave her to die?

The gun was heavy in John’s hands. There was only a single bullet in it, and the words written in red on the wall made it clear who it was for.

“KILL HER.”

This was the only way to finish the job, wasn’t it? Amy was already too far gone physically to be brought back, and putting her soul to rest was how he had to end it.

Wasn’t it?

That’s what his teachings had taught him. They had been very insistent that there was generally a point of no return, and Amy had crossed it.

Then why would she run? Was it a ruse?

Why was a demon telling him to end her life? That in itself should be a red flag, shouldn’t it?

When had he gotten to the point that killing a child would be the kindest mercy he could offer her?

John knew what the demon possessing her could do. He had been front and center to the performance, and it still haunted his nightmares, despite what he had told the psychologist. The fact that everyone kept telling him it couldn’t have been real only added fuel to the fire of his broken mind.

His reflection felt less and less like him as the days passed.

He shuddered as he stepped out of the broken down house. The woods were eerily quiet outside of the wind blowing through the trees. The white creature that had chased him was nowhere to be seen, and he didn’t hear the telltale rustling of trees that warned him of its coming.

Even if she was still possessed, Amy’s body would still be weak after the confrontation in the attic and throwing herself out of the window. Whatever he did next had to happen now, or all the lives lost would be for naught.

The blood trails were hard to follow, but even when the red blended in with the foliage, the sharp smell of rust would guide him along.

If she wasn’t dead yet, he doubted she would be alive for much longer. Human bodies only had so much blood they could lose, and demons were quick to forget that when playing with their pawns. The consequences were only temporary for them, after all.

He had to finish this. Not break down like he had a year ago.

That was what he told himself as he continued his hunt through the dark woods.

The sound of crashing through the underbrush caught John’s attention, and he swung the gun in that direction and waited with baited breath and a thundering heart.

When a herd of deer ran by, he didn’t ease his stance until silence fell again, and he was sure that whatever had spooked the animals wasn’t coming behind them.

He contemplated going in that direction, on the off chance Amy had gone that way, but the blood trail was too fresh for him to ignore. And the likelihood of finding something else was high.

Eventually, the trees opened into a clearing, and at the far end, he could see Amy. The torn hem of her dress was flecked with blood, and even from this distance, he could see blood seeping through the cuts in her back. She was facing away from him as she staggered towards the woods.

John had to make a choice.

He could shoot her and end it now. He could let her live, and the demon could use her for more death and destruction before she perished. He could leave her, and she would die from her injuries because the demon had already left.

One could never tell which ploy a demon would use to kill their victims. It was often safer to kill a vessel to make sure the demon couldn’t hurt anyone in that form anymore.

But she was a child.

And he wasn’t even a decade older than she was.

Please, God, take this cup away from me.

His eyes were starting to blur.

… When did his face get wet?

Trails of tears were falling down his face as the weight of what he was contemplating fully hit him. The grip on the gun had grown shaky as it pulled him down.

He dropped it when he dropped to his knees.

I can’t do this, Lord.

The safety was still on, thankfully, but the impact made a noise that made the mostly purple blur turn into a brown and purple blur.

When he wiped his eyes, he could see the red void her face had turned into pointed in his direction.

I’m going to die.

The realization should have scared him. Especially since he knew how violently his end would be at her hands. But all he could feel was a vague sense of relief and guilt. It would no longer be in his hands to do this, but everything indicated that he had failed her again.

Unless…

“Amy, is that you?” He didn’t mean for his voice to catch on her name, but he knew he was throwing a hail Mary.

“You’re that priest? Why are you...” He wasn’t sure how she could see given her condition, but the way her head moved indicated that she was looking him up and down. He could see her body tense as he assumed she saw the gun.

She backed away from him, but her legs did not agree with the movement and she fell to the ground. “It’s gone! I swear!” She started to scoot herself backwards. She probably didn’t think he’d believe her.

Did he?

The distortion in her voice was gone, but that was something the demon could easily turn off when it wanted to. That was how it convinced the officers that what happened the year prior was a vast misunderstanding gone horribly wrong.

John’s arms refused to move. “I-”

Why can’t I do this? I can’t fail her again. I can’t. I can’t. I can’tIcan’tIcan’t-

“Watch out!” Amy’s voice cracked as she suddenly jumped to her feet. The movement wasn’t smooth given her condition, but she started bolting in his direction.

He couldn’t do it. Instead he fell forwards onto his hands in fear as he waited for the end.

That’s when he heard it. There was rustling behind him, and he was again reminded of the other creature hunting in the woods.

“FAAAaaaATHhHEEeeeERRRrr!” The cry activated the habit of yanking his crucifix out, and he swung it around behind him as he tried to turn and stand at the same time.

It wasn’t necessary.

As the creature leapt towards him, a red arm swung out over him, caught its face, and threw it against the ground.

His eyes traced the arm back to its owner, and it went back to Amy’s face. The connection made him scramble away from her, but she collapsed as the arm retracted back into the void.

“Leave her, demon!” He cried out as he pointed the crucifix towards Amy. At this point, he wasn’t expecting the command to work, but the gun wasn’t practical to grab for now, and the protection the crucifix offered was better than nothing.

“Purge the demon, now! Before he gets back up!” She called out instead. She wasn’t jerking away from the cross, but she wasn’t really in a state to run, either.

… He couldn’t point the cross at both of them, and the tangled limbs on the white creature were already starting to scramble to stand up again.

He had to take a chance.

John finally stood up tall and pointed the crucifix towards the demon possessed creature and started to recite the Latin that Father Allred had forced him to memorize. Even if his own faith in a higher power was fading, his faith in the words was strong.

The creature caught on to what he was doing, and the unnaturally long arms and legs started to crawl backwards.

Until the red arm once again appeared and latched onto a wrist that was far too thin for a creature this size.

It struggled against the grip and screamed a wordless cry that reverberated in John’s ears, but he could vaguely still hear Amy over the horribly loud noise. “Keep going!”

He kept speaking the words of the rite even as his ears started to ring, and he persevered even as a clump of dirt was chucked in his direction.

As he finished the last word, the screaming and flailing suddenly stopped as the creature suddenly dropped limp.

The red arm disappeared as well, and John could fully take in the scene. The white vaguely humanoid creature was laid out like puppet with the strings cut, and the glowing red eyes were shut as if they were asleep. Amy’s bloody form was nearby, and since she was face down, it was easy to forget what had happened to her.

She hadn’t reacted to the crucifix even when the creature had pulled her into the line of fire, and he now had to consider what that meant. As well as figuring out whether the rite had worked on the other… what he had to guess what had once been a human.

Neither reacted to the cross being pointed at them now, and even if the host appeared unconscious, demons did not like holy symbols being directed towards them.

The gun was close by, he remembered. Even if it only had one bullet… He stopped.

Instead he stowed the crucifix away and stood over Amy with an offered hand. “Can you stand?”

There was a moment of silence, and he suddenly feared that maybe it was too late. Then a quiet voice said, “Yeah. It hurts though...” She turned over and weakly reached for his hand.

He pulled her up and offered her a shoulder to lean against. “You lost a lot of blood. I have some bandages in my car, but we have to get there first.”

“What about...” She trailed off as she looked towards the unconscious person.

John weighed his options, before lightly pushing her away. She got the hint and balanced herself so that she could stand without him. In a move that he only learned from one of his college friends, he picked them in a fireman’s hold. The hands and feet were only barely off the ground, but despite the their relatively large size, they were much lighter than he expected.

Whatever that demon had done to this person’s physical body was extreme. He highly doubted this would ever come undone. Much like what had happened to Amy’s face.

Thankfully, Amy could manage without his aid, because even if the other formerly demon possessed person was lighter than expected, he was not someone who lifted for a living.

The trek back to the car was extremely quiet. He had so many questions to potentially ask Amy, but he didn’t think she would be able to give straight answers right now.

He also had questions for the person passed out on his shoulders.

The car was a welcome sight on the side of the road, and for the time being, he laid the person down in the back seat. It was cramped, to say the least, but there was a chance that someone could drive by, and possibly freak out if they saw them.

As for Amy, he bandaged the worst of the wounds, but the first aid kit he kept in his car was not meant to handle so many at once.

“We should probably go to the hospital,” He said as he patched up a nasty gash on her arm.

“How are we going to explain this?” She said with a wave at her face. If her face had simply been mutilated, it would have been difficult, but the red void made it impossible to explain to an everyday person.

He sighed. “I don’t know. But you jumped out of a window-”

Amy interrupted, “I know. I was in the backseat of my own body.” The reminder made her voice tremble.

There was a visible flinch as he muttered an apology. Instead he tried to go back to the original topic. “We can try a mask or something, but most places don’t like it if they can’t see your face,” he mused aloud.

“You know that won’t work.”

“… I know.”

With the worst taken care of, she sat in the passenger front seat, and he got in the driver’s side.

Night was starting to fall as he followed the winding roads back to the town he lived in, and Amy passed out within a few minutes of the drive starting.

With both of his passengers out cold, he could think on the last few hours without interruption. He hadn’t needed to take a life tonight, and he was grateful for that above all else. He hadn’t signed up to be a priest in order to kill people.

… Frankly, he hadn’t really signed up to fight demons like this, either, but that was what his training had been focused on, for some reason.

While he once would have attributed his success to Providence, now he wasn’t so sure. There were a lot of lucky circumstances today, for sure, but a part of him was. Uneasy. About what was to happen next. He wasn’t considered experienced enough to say that the exorcisms were successful, but they had to be if they weren’t reacting to the crucifix anymore, right?

He wasn’t sure even what the next move could be for Amy and the other person, but he had a few contacts in the Church that were still willing to speak with him.

Maybe someone else with more experience would know what to do.

[t0tallyspine]

It was quiet in the library, just like it usually was. The room was ancient and dusty, the only clean places being the chairs that were sometimes used, the short patches of clean floor where the chairs were moved back, and the footsteps left by someone who visited this place not that long ago. Only one table was completely cleaned our and shiny, looking like it was freshly washed – the one Caro was sitting at, a thick book in leather cover in her hands and a look of concentration on her face. At a glance you could think she was completely closed off and not really enjoying the read, and that would be a pretty solid assumption considering the fact that the name of the book suggested its old age and historical nature, which may seem boring to some. But that wasn’t the case for Caro, as her eyes were shining brightly with excitement and curiosity, her finger moving over the lines almost reverently.

She may have gotten into the Zablr base by chance and some doubts were still alive and crawling through her mind, but now that she’d seen this treasury of knowledge, she was going to do everything to make sure she didn’t get kicked out.

Caro found the diaries of Karl Jacobs! And she wasn’t entirely sure, but they actually looked like the original versions, with shaky handwriting and spelling mistakes, which made her all the more eager to start going through each one. She’d only read two of them before, both pretty short and she was sure edited horrendously with chunks of text obviously missing, but the girl still loved them immensely and was disappointed when she learned those were the only ones found. But, as Caro knew now, not the only ones existing.

But she put the diaries aside for now, leaving the best for last, and instead settling down with a less fantastic, but nevertheless interesting and fascinating book. She was already halfway through when she heard a hesitant voice say,

”Hello. What are you reading?”

She couldn’t quite tell which direction the voice was coming from; it sounded ridiculous, but it was as though it was surrounding and enveloping her, echoing against the walls and furniture without any direct source. Caro looked around but didn’t see whoever asked the question, so she decided the stranger was probably shy and was hiding somewhere amongst the bookshelves.

”Hi! Hold on, I’ll see the name…”

She closed the book to look at the title and yelped in surprise, dropping the book ob the table. There, on the wooden surface, she saw a single eye without a iris that was looking at her intently.

”Ouch!” the voice said, and then added, “That book sure is… heavy. I didn’t have time to move. Could you maybe… lift it up?”

Caro’s eyes widened. Was the voice she’d been hearing coming from the eye? She hurried to get the book off of it and the eye started blinking rapidly, slightly red from the hit.

”I’m so sorry, I just didn’t expect… well, an eye under my book.”

The voice sounded embarrassed as it replied, “No, no, it’s my fault completely, I didn’t mean to scare you like that! I got so used to this form I forget that new people appear.”

The voice laughed and said, “Give me a second, I’ll try and fix my first impression.”

The eye proceeded to literally blink out of existence, and Caro let out a nervous chuckle. She’d already met Cube, so she knew there were not quite humanoid creatures living in the walls of the base, but the situation still caught her off-guard. But she didn’t have time to ponder over the new meeting: the door to the library opened with a loud bang as it hit the wall, and in the doorway the girl saw a tall person with short blue hair, a halo above her head and small gray wings that were barely visible behind her back. She was wincing, probably because of the loud noise, and holding a long wooden box in her hands.

“Hi again!” the stranger said in greeting and smiled awkwardly. “I’m so sorry you saw my angel form first, that must have been. Horrifying.”

’Angel form..? Right, the eye!’ Caro realized and reassured the girl in front of her that it was fine. She decided to remember the angel comment to find out more later.

“I’m Spine, by the way! And you are…”

”Oh, I’m Caro Kann. It’s nice to meet you!” Caro introduced herself.

“The pleasure is mine,” Spine replied and tried to reach out a hand for a handshake, but almost dropped whatever she was holding and grabbed it with both arms again. Then she made sure the box wasn’t going anywhere, she actually thrust it towards Caro and smiled brightly. “Here, this is for you! As a gift to the newcomer.”

She was surprised at the gesture but accepted the offer, replying, “Thank you! And… what is it?”

With the same carefree smile Spine answered, “I have no idea! That’s kinda why I’m giving it away. I opened it and there’s a bunch of little figures. They’re pretty, but not my style, so I thought maybe you’d like them more.”

Caro was cautious of whatever was inside that box. The base was old and held many secrets, a lot of which, she assumed, weren’t that safe. But there were times she thought it best to take the chance and go for it, just like she did with the invitation letter – and look at her now, surrounded by the amount of amazing ancient books she wouldn’t be able to read in a lifetime! So she took a deep breath and looked inside.

To her joy, Caro, contrary to her new acquaintance, knew exactly what the mysterious figures were. She took out a beautifully carved king, obviously made by someone very talented, and smiled widely.

”It’s called chess! It’s a game, I’m actually really good at it.”

Spine jumped up and down on the spot and clapped her hands excitedly, her halo now glowing brighter.

”Really?That’s so cool, can we play together?”

”Sure! I’ll teach you. Chess is pretty complex, there are a lot of rules and…”

”Wait. Do you need to think a lot to play it?”

Caro’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I mean, yes? It needs logical thinking, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The girl jerked her hand away from the box and shook her head. “Sorry then, not my field of expertise. No complex thinking is my motto.”

Spine was about to say something else when she froze, as if listening to something. Caro tried to listen too but didn’t hear a thing, apart from the wind howling outside. The blue-haired girl was silent for a good minute, before suddenly yelling, ”Mcpe, I’m coming, wait up!” and darting into the hall. At the door she turned around and waved her hand.

”I’ve got to go now, sorry. Have fun with your… chess. We should play other, simpler games or read books together sometime.” Her smile grew softer, and she added, “Hope you enjoy your stay.”

Character Caro Kann belongs to the awesome @the-caro-can!!

[death-himself]

If a Karen Gives a Flower

Part of the Four Human-Eating Monsters and An Apathetic Florist AU!

Summary: When Virgil got a dying flower from an angry Karen, he wasn't expecting to also get his boyfriend's brother a boyfriend

Warnings: Enough fluff to kill an army

Word Count: 2,357

Previous Next  (AO3 Link)

The day started with a Karen giving Virgil a dying flower and ended with him being nearly hugged to death by a giant drider. How typical.

Virgil heard the bell jingle as a new customer stepped into the shop, turning to see a woman with a bob cut in probably her late forties walk in, holding a wilting potted plant.

“Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you today?” She huffed, setting the plant on the counter.

“Can you bring this thing back to life?”

“Excuse me?” She pushed the plant closer to him, looking him directly in the eyes.

“I found this flower at the edge of this forest I drive by every day to work. It had such beautiful petals, they were bright pink with white spots on them. I thought it would look nice on my desk, but then it just started dying. Can you fix it?”

Virgil took a deep breath, biting back his desire to point out that plants aren’t like cars; he couldn’t just fix it.

“Well ma’am, it looks like this might be a Deptford Pink. They’re somewhat easy to maintain, so I’m not quite sure what you could have done wrong. The pot looks a bit too small for it, though. And have you been keeping it in the sunlight?”

“Why would I have to?” She scoffed. Virgil wanted to slap her.

“It’s a plant, ma’am. It needs sunlight, and Deptford Pink’s need full sunlight in order to properly grow.”

“My desk isn’t in the sunlight, though! There has to be something you can do.”

“I mean...I guess if you want it to be on your desk you could maybe move it onto your desk whenever you’re working and then move it back into the sunlight when you’re done?” That seemed to properly offend her, and Virgil was happy about that.

“I’d like to speak to your manager, you have no right to talk to me like that.” Virgil nodded, walking into the back, biting back a grin. He opened and closed the door, waiting a few seconds. His coworker Thomas gave him a confused look as Virgil walked back out.

“Hello, I’m the manager, is there a problem here, ma’am?” Virgil asked with a sly grin. She scowled, walking out the door without another word.

Thomas came out from the back, putting a few flowers out on display. “What happened?”

“Karen.”

“Oh.” Virgil looked over the plant the lady had brought in. It was definitely dying, but it could probably still be saved. Virgil took it into the back, grabbing a larger pot for it and filling it with more nutrient-rich soil. He then reached for the flower and carefully took it out of its old pot, placing it gently into its new one.

It seemed to shudder. Virgil blinked, noticing how it swayed unnaturally back and forth for a moment, before seeming to relax and go still.

Virgil looked it over for a moment. Part of him told him that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Part of him reminded him he was dating four supernatural creatures. How strange was it really for a flower to act a bit weird?

He placed the flower in the sunlight, and it seemed to shudder again. Virgil glanced at the door leading to the actual store. Thomas was still out there, out of earshot. He sighed. No harm in making sure.

“How are you feeling?” He asked the plant. It didn’t respond. “I’m talking to you, I know about beings like you.” It still didn’t respond. Virgil shrugged, giving up and walking back to the front. Guess it was just his mind messing with him.

He got home and carried the flower in, knowing Roman and Patton would probably like it. As usual, he took his shoes off, turned around, and there was Patton.

“Welcome home!” He cheered, coming in close and kissing him on the lips. “How was—” Then he noticed the flower. Virgil had expected Patton to get super excited—he always loved when Virgil brought home plants from his shop—but instead he looked almost freaked out and confused.

“Uh...what’s that you got there, Vee?”

“It’s a Deptford Pink, this Karen came in and started saying all this dumb shit, so—”

“That’s not a flower...” He spoke lightly, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I...I don’t know! It has a weird smell! It doesn’t really smell like a flower, but it also doesn’t smell like a human, or a vampire, or any species I’ve met!” By this point Logan, Janus, and Roman had come by to welcome Virgil home, but stayed silent to listen to Patton.

Roman tilted his head to the side. “It’s not just a flower?”

“Perhaps it’s another species we are unaware of, then. The only one that comes to mind pertaining to flowers are nymphs, specifically the Leimoniads.” Logan spoke, walking over and taking the pot from Virgil’s hands, studying it from every angle.

“That’s exactly what they are.” Janus said, grabbing the flower from Logan and holding it close to his chest. “I remember back when I lived in my forest there were dozens of nymphs and dryads. Particularly land and river nymphs, those were very common.”

Janus sighed as he looked down at the flower nymph. “Their life forces are connected to the kinds of areas they are born in. For flower nymphs such as this one, it’s valleys and forests. If they are taken out of those areas for too long, their plant will die, and with it, the nymph will die as well.” Patton whimpered.

“Can we just take them into the forest behind the house? Would that work?”

“Possibly. It’s not very common for a nymph to have to reconnect their life forces to another source.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot!” Roman declared, taking the plant gently in his arms and scurrying out the door. Virgil watched him leave for a moment, before remembering that he was the only one in the house who actually knew how to plant a flower. He cursed, gathering up whatever gardening tools he would need and running out the door after him. “Roman you fucking dumbass, wait up!”

Remus hummed to himself as he drew on the walls with animal blood. He was bored, and just couldn’t get to sleep. He was tempted to just break into Virgil’s house and mess with his brother and his soulmates for a bit, but resisted. Virgil would force him to clean up whatever mess he’d make, and for a human, the guy was surprisingly scary.

He groaned, lying back down on his stomach in his web. It was so boring in the cave without anyone else there.

His ears perked up when he heard in the distance two voices.

“You humans are so slow!”

“It’s not my fault I only have two legs!”

“But why are you so slow?”

“Hey, Jan is slower, so—”

“Don’t go comparing yourself to someone with no legs!”

Oh, Roman and Virgil. What were they up to so late at night? Remus shrugged, scuttling out of the cave, deciding to see for himself.

“You have four times as many legs as me, and eight times the amount Janus has, you’re an outlier that shouldn’t be counted in the whole “who’s slow test.” 

“How dare you!”

“I dare.”

“Maybe our new friend here can be our deciding vote, huh?” He leaned closer into the flower, raising an eyebrow. “Should I, the handsome and incredible Roman, truly not be counted in a test such as this one?” The flower shuddered. Roman squinted. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“I think they’re saying “Get out of my personal space” Prince Charming.” Roman huffed, moving away from the nymph again, holding them a bit further from his body.

“How come they haven’t turned into some like...pink humanoid person by now? I mean...that’s how nymphs are usually depicted in Greek myths.” Virgil shone his phone’s flashlight around at the trees, wondering if any of them were dryads in disguise.

“I think I remember back when I was very young.” Roman said. “I used to have this dryad as a friend. She said that since her life force was connected to the forest her pine tree lived in, if she were to somehow be disconnected from her forest for too long, her body would go into her tree and she would be unable to take any form outside of her tree until she regained her energy. This nymph is probably just too tired to take form.”

Virgil hummed, walking out into a meadow near the twin driders’ cave. “This place’ll probably work, right?”

“Maybe. Does this place look good to you, my flowery friend?” The flower swayed back and forth. “I’m assuming that’s a yes?” The flower swayed again. “Excellent!”

Virgil dug a hole deep enough for the flower to be moved into, pulling it out of the pot gently and placing it into the hole. The flower shuddered, before swaying back and forth again, seeming to be pleased. Roman smiled.

“Would you like us to leave you alone to rest?” The flower swayed and shuddered. They decided to take that as a yes.

“I guess that means we’ll be leaving, then.” Virgil yawned. “About time. I just wanna eat dinner and go to bed.”

“You and me both.” Roman waved at the flower as he stood up. “We’ll check up on you in the morning, alright? Sleep well!” The two headed back home, continuing their debate about who can be considered slow or fast as they went.

Remus slowly crawled out into the meadow as the two left. He had been too far away to understand what was going on, but apparently they had come out just to plant a flower. He laid down next to the plant, studying it closely.

“What’s so special about you?” The flower swayed without any wind to move it. “Huh. Weird. You some kind of nature spirit?” It continued to sway back and forth.

Remus reached out to touch it, before remembering a certain run-in he had with a dryad before. He had been picking pine needles out of his hair for weeks after touching her. “Can I touch you?” The flower shuddered. “Is that a no?” It began swaying again. “Okay.” He let his arm drop.

“So where’d my brother and his human find you?” No response, which made sense considering flowers can’t speak. “I think Virgey works at some kinda flower shop, right? I don’t get humans with that whole “flower shop” thing. If you want flowers, just fuck around outside, y’know?”

Remus couldn’t completely understand the flower’s swaying and shuddering, but the nymph seemed interested in what he had to say, and that was enough for him. He continued to talk and rant to the flower, appreciating any bit of movement he received.

With a yawn he finished up his story about the first time he killed a human with his bare hands, finally beginning to run out of things to talk about as the sun began to rise. His throat was a bit sore from talking all night, but he was satisfied. His eyelids slowly began to droop.

“Thanks for keeping me company!” Remus squeaked, his eyes flying back open and looking up. Sitting on the opposite side of the flower from him was a three-foot tall man with long, messy pink hair, pale pink skin, and white freckles, smiling at him.

“Woah.” Remus breathed. “You’re hot as fuck.” The nymph chuckled, looking down at the pure black palm of his hand.

“You don’t look so bad yourself!” He hesitated, looking at the handprint on Remus’s chest. “Is it alright if I touch you?” Remus’s face split into a grin, and he nodded eagerly. The nymph took his hand and gently laid it over Remus’s soulmark. The black from both creatures faded away.

Remus cackled happily, pulling the nymph in close and holding him tight. “I’m Remus! I don’t think I introduced myself last night, but I’m Remus! We’re soulmates, holy fuck! Roman can fuck off with his four soulmates, you’re better than all of them combined! I love you, you cute little shit!”

The nymph laughed along, allowing himself to be twirled around and carried as Remus basically danced around the meadow. “I’m Emile! I thought you were my soulmate! While you were talking I saw the hand on your chest and it looked about the size of my hands so all I had to do is put two and two together and bingo bongo!” Emile hugged Remus tighter.

Virgil and his soulmates came out about half an hour later. By that point Emile had already told Remus everything that had happened. The moment Remus saw Virgil, he got up and scrambled over to him.

“Virgil!” He tackled the human, pulling him into a hug that could have very easily broken Virgil’s bones. “You saved my boyfriend’s life! I love you!”

“What?” Virgil choked out. “Lemme go!” Remus let go with a cheer. “I have a boyfriend and he’s hotter than all of you!” Emile waved.

“I’m Emile, I’m his soulmate! Can you believe that?”

“I’m assuming you’re the nymph Virgil and Roman brought out last night?” Logan asked.

“Yup! It’s good to meet you all! I don’t know how to repay you for what you did, but thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Just keep this idiot occupied.” Virgil jabbed a thumb at Remus, trying to regain his breath.

Roman came over to Emile, looking him over for a moment, before smiling and pulling him into a hug. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen my brother this happy so...thank you.” He whispered.

Later on they moved Emile’s flower to just outside of Remus’s cave, that way they would be able to properly live together. Whenever the two were invited over to Virgil’s house, Emile would pot up his plant and bring it with them, since he was tethered to the flower. They made it work, and Remus was excited the entire time.

[inkwell1013]

Lillies and Roses

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

Genre: Humor, Oneshot, Outsider POV, Flowershop AU (just barely)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mistaken infidelity, mild elements of body horror

Summary: Cameron has been running his family’s flower shop for years now. When a handsome yet peculiar redhead walks in to buy flowers for his boyfriend, he thinks nothing of it. But when that very same boyfriend comes in a week later to buy flowers for his fiancé, Cameron finds that he has a decision to make. Does he tell Crowley that Aziraphale is two timing him with Anthony or does he keep the secret? Or Crowley has two names and confuses a poor, innocent florist.

- - - - -

Cameron woke up early, as he always did. He brought in the latest shipment of flowers and swept up the shop floor ready for the customers. Things were always quiet in the mornings, when he was the only person in the store, and he took the opportunity to listen to some music while he worked.

Things were quiet most of the time. His shop was small, and he got just enough customers to get by. That was fine with him though. He enjoyed his quiet, unbothered life.

Whistling along with the music, he set up a few arrangements on the centre table and decided to work on a few special orders whilst he had the time. The door to the shop creaked open a few minutes later, and the bell rang, letting him know he had his first customer of the day.

He turned around and gave them a friendly smile. “Good morning,” he said. “How can I help you?”

The man was strange, though Cameron couldn’t immediately put a finger on what was unusual about him. It was a collection of odd traits which, when combined, made for an overall peculiar man.

He was wearing sunglasses even though it was bright and sunny outside, and Cameron swore he saw a flash of yellow eyes from underneath the dark lenses, but that was probably just his imagination playing tricks on him.

The man’s movement was almost serpent like and when he opened his mouth to speak, a forked tongue flickered out. Cameron blinked in surprise but when he looked again, it was replaced by a regular tongue.

Snake eyes. Snake tongues. Slithering. Serpents.

He shook his head. He was just imagining things. Covering his surprise with a classic customer service smile, he spoke. “Pardon?”

The man frowned. “I said, I want to buy some flowers for my boyfriend.”

How unusual… He even hissed his words like a snake.

“I can help you with that sir,” said Cameron. “Any particular type?”

The man thought for a moment. “Lilies,” he said at last. “He likes lilies. White ones.”

“You’re in luck,” said Cameron. “I got a fresh shipment of those this morning. It’ll take a little while for me to make the bouquet, but you’re more than welcome to wait in the shop.”

The man agreed and Cameron went to fetch some lilies from the back room. He found some suitable flowers and brought them out.

“So, tell me a bit about your boyfriend,” he said, pulling out a pair of scissors to cut the stems to the correct size.

“Why do you want to know?” Crowley asked, leaning up against the centre display table.

“Just making small talk.” Cameron wrapped the stems of the flowers with an elastic band.

“He owns a bookshop in Soho,” said the stranger. “Our anniversary is soon, so I thought I’d surprise him. Lilies are his favourite flower.”

“That’s sweet of you. He’s a lucky guy.”

“If anything, I’m the lucky one.”

Cameron nodded absentmindedly, holding the bouquet upright to check that everything was in order. Once he was sure that everything was in place, he laid it back down on the workbench and pulled out a notecard and pen.

“The flowers come with a personalized note,” he explained. “What do you want me to write on it?”

The stranger thought for a moment. “Could you write ‘Happy anniversary Aziraphale. I’m really glad Armageddon didn’t happen. Love Crowley.’?”

“What?”

“It’s an… inside joke.”

Cameron laughed. “And a unique one for sure,” he said. “How do you spell Aziraphale?”

Crowley spelt it out for him, and Cameron scribbled it down, along with the rest of the message. Then, he rang him up at the till and took the payment.

“I’ll come again soon,” called Crowley, as Cameron waved him goodbye.

***

Two weeks later, on a chilly spring afternoon, another strange person came into the shop and Cameron couldn’t help but be reminded of Crowley when he saw him. On first impression, he was unassuming - the only thing even slightly unusual about him was his unnaturally white hair. Still, there was something unequivocally wrong about him. Something off.

Cameron blinked and when he opened his eyes again, the man was gone. Instead, a creature was hovering before him. Concentric rings of eyes twisted around each other, framed by six wings which were large enough to touch either side of his shop.

He blinked again.

Two of the wings curled in on each other, forming a vaguely humanoid shape. The creature wrapped two of its wings around its body and Cameron watched in horror as three heads lurched their way from the thing’s shoulders. There was a human head in the centre, flanked by a lion’s head on the left and an ox’s head on the right.

He blinked again.

The creature cocooned itself in its wings. The two sets of remaining wings merged into a single pair. The wings were thrown backward revealing an otherwise normal human form, save for the bright while halo floating above it.

He slammed his eyes shut, blinded by the light. When he cautiously cracked them up again, he was faced by a regular man.

“Are you alright my boy?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine. I was just a little out of it,” said Cameron.

Had it all been in his head? He would have to go and see a doctor if these… hallucinations continued.

“How can I help you?” he asked, doing his best to keep his worry at the back of his mind.

The stranger gave him a friendly smile. “I’m looking to purchase some flowers for my fiancé,” he explained.

“Then you came to the right place!” said Cameron. “What kind would you like?”

The man considered for a moment. “Red roses, if you have them,” he said

Cameron nodded. “You’re in luck - I think I still have some of those left. This will only take a moment, so you are welcome to wait.”

Cameron went through the same motions he had gone through two weeks ago and every day since: fetching the flowers from the back room; arranging them; cutting the stems to size. The familiar routine was a comfort to him, especially after the strange occurrence that had happened just moments prior.

“So, how did you and your fiancé meet?” he asked.

The man smiled. “We’ve known each other for a long time,” he said. “When I first laid eyes on him, I knew he was different. But we didn’t get along at first. We were quite different people, and our families were… I don’t want to say at war, but it certainly felt like that sometimes. We were on opposite sides of a conflict we had no part in.

“Despite all that, he kept surprising me with his kindness and compassion. We ran into each other again and again, and somewhere along the line, between the clandestine dinner dates and getting drunk together in my bookshop, I realised I liked him. And I realised I loved him not long after. Things fell into place after that.”

“That’s so sweet,” said Cameron, as he finished making the bouquet. “Would you like me to write a note to go with the flowers?”

“I would like that,” said the stranger. “Could you write ‘For my dear Anthony. You bring light to my life. All my love, Aziraphale.’?”

Cameron went to write the message, but his pen stilled halfway through as his brain caught up to him.

Aziraphale.

This was Crowley’s boyfriend.

And he was buying flowers for a man named Anthony.

His fiancé named Anthony.

Cameron desperately tried to keep his expression neutral, even as his heart was racing. He hurried through the rest of the note and thrust the flowers into Aziraphale’s hands.

“I’m afraid we’re closing soon,” he announced, ringing Aziraphale up at the till. Aziraphale handed over the money and Cameron shooed him out the door.

Once he was sure that Aziraphale was gone, he let the horror he was hiding show on his face. Aziraphale was a cheater. He was cheating on Crowley with Anthony, and there was precisely nothing that Cameron could do about it.

***

Looking up a stranger in the phonebook made Cameron feel like a stalker.

He was surprised when his search turned up no results. You would think someone with such an unusual name would be easy to track down, but there was no one anywhere in the phonebook with the first name Crowley. It was like he never even existed. Aziraphale’s name wasn’t in there either.

He searched for them on social media too, which was an equally fruitless endeavour.

In a last-ditch effort, he searched for their names on the internet. When he searched for Crowley, the only search results to show up were some fictional characters and a brief Wikipedia page on a biblical demon.

Aziraphale’s name garnered even fewer results. There are a few reviews for bookshop in Soho owned by a man with the same name, which he presumed was Aziraphale.

He also found a blurred black and white photograph of a man under the images tab. The man was probably Aziraphale’s grandfather or something, though the family resemblance was almost uncanny; they could have been twins. If the photo weren’t so old, Cameron would have assumed it was Aziraphale himself.

He closed his laptop, having exhausted all his options. There was nothing he could do.

***

The shop door slammed open, and the sudden thud made Cameron jump. Whipping around, he was greeted by two familiar faces – Crowley and Aziraphale.

“My apologies,” said Aziraphale (cheating bastard). “We didn’t mean to startle you. It was the wind.”

Cameron cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “It’s fine,” he said. “I was a little distracted anyway. How can I help you?”

Aziraphale grinned like the adulterous douchebag he was. “We’d like to buy some flowers please,” he said.

“Any particular type?” asked Cameron, plastering his face with a bland costumer service smile that barely managed to cover up his scowl.

“We’ll have a little look around, if that’s okay?” said Crowley, arm still wrapped around Aziraphale’s shoulder. Cameron gave a quick nod, and the couple started wandering around the shop. Somewhere along the line, they split apart, ending up on other sides of the shop. Cameron had found his opportunity.

Aziraphale was examining a bouquet of azaleas when Cameron caught up to him, with what could only be described as a serene expression on his face. He whispered something to them, and Cameron swore that they brightened up a little at his words.

He was talking to the flowers. First the snake eyes, then whatever had happened when he first met Aziraphale, then their presence on the internet (or lack thereof), and now the guy was having a conversation with a bunch of azaleas.

This pair was seriously weird. They matched each other in that way – like two particularly ugly Christmas sweaters or strange modern art sculptures. They fitted together so perfectly that it was difficult to imagine them apart. It was difficult to imagine that Aziraphale would fracture their relationship by doing what he had done.

“I know about Anthony,” he hissed, venom clear in his voice.

“Pardon?

“I know that you are a cheater, and I will expose you if you don’t come clean right now. Please, spare him any further heartbreak.”

He expected Aziraphale to blow up at him, or get defensive, or even cry.

Instead, much to Cameron’s surprise, Aziraphale laughed so hard that he could barely stand up, having to grip a hold of the table to keep his balance.

“Crowley are you hearing this?” he chocked out. “I’m a cheater, didn’t you know? Two timing you with Anthony.”

“Yes. You’re a real scoundrel alright,” said Crowley, wrapping Aziraphale up in his arms. “Adultery. What an unforgiveable sin?”

“Well, you certainly know something about unforgivable sins, don’t you dear?” There was an undeniable smirk on Aziraphale’s lips, that Crowley mirrored.

“I can show you another unforgivable sin if you want,” he whispered into Aziraphale’s ear.

“Crowley! You bad boy.”

“Its in my blood. Can’t help it,” said Crowley with a quirk of his eyebrows.

Cameron found himself feeling rather irritated and left out of the conversation “I’m still here,” he snapped. “What on earth is going on? Why are you two so happy?”

How could these two go right to flirting after he had dropped a nuke on their relationship?

“We don’t mean to upset you dear,” said Aziraphale. “It’s just amusing. That’s all.”

“I’m telling the truth. I swear! He came into the shop two weeks ago to buy flowers for another man.”

“Those flowers were for Crowley,” said Aziraphale.

“But they were addressed to a man named Anthony,” insisted Cameron.

“Anthony is my first name,” said Crowley.

“…What?”

“Did you really think Crowley was my first name?” he laughed. “Anthony is my given name, but I usually go by Crowley. It’s just a preference.”

“You said they were for your fiancé!”

“Yes,” said Crowley. “I proposed to him three weeks ago. I am his fiancé.”

Everything clicked. “He’s... Oh my God. I feel really stupid. I am so sorry. That was… I am so sorry,” he stammered.

Crowley patted him on the shoulder. “Its fine kid. I would have assumed the same thing if I were in your situation.”

“No, it’s not fine. I need to apologise.” Cameron face was bright red. This was so embarrassing. “I assumed the worst of you,” he said. “And that was wrong of me. You have my sincerest apologies. I’ll be happy to give you a refund.”

“No thank you,” said Aziraphale. “In fact, we have a favour to ask. Would you cater our wedding?”

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. You’re a good lad, and your flowers are to die for. They’re easily the best in London. Will you do it?”

“I’d love to!”

There were lilies and roses at the wedding.

[theshatteredrose]

Relic Keepers: Awakening of the Red Lily (Chapter 22) - Original Novel

AN: Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy reading~

Ao3 | Wattpad | Inkitt | FictionPress

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 22:

The Red Lily looked just how Eishirou remembered it; crystals a vivid red, the gold stainless and flawless. It was the splitting image of what he had seen from the underground mosaic and the recordings he had viewed.

Yet, he had seen it adorn to a crown in a recording.

He remembered that specifically because in the recording, it sat upon an altar, surrounded by flowers and greenery. Obviously worshiped or held in high regard to some compacity. There was definitely a sense of admiration and respect toward the relic.

The Red Lily before him was only that of the centrepiece. Nowhere during his visual inspection of the piece did he find any markings indicating that it had once been a part to another piece. Though, it was highly likely that it was lost to time. Or it was removed at some point.

It didn’t really matter. He was simply curious.

He wanted to learn more of the Red Lily itself. He wanted to hear that voice again. The one that spoke to him in the tower. The one that called him something. Radiant Soul.

But the relic remained silent. There was mana present. He could sense as much. However, for whatever reason, he couldn’t access it.

Eishirou uttered a disappointed sigh as he opened his eyes and lowered his hands. The Red Lily sat on a study pedestal in the centre of the research centre. A clear plastic frame held the relic upright, allowing for the best visual presentation.

“Anything?” Jacob asked from the observation deck.

“No, nothing,” Eishirou replied as he pressed the switch to encase the Red Lily in light, clear glass to ensure its safety.

“Maybe you’re still enduring the aftereffects of mana depletion?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Jacob tried to comfort. “The Red Lily is here now. We can take our time.”

Eishirou still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “I guess.”

Though, that suggestion did sound reasonable. If he was, maybe the relic was, too? Maybe it just needed a bit of time itself to recharge. If that was the case, then they should place it in a mana enrich environment.

He quickly voiced his thoughts to Jacob.

“Hmm, that sounds reasonable. I’ll arrange for it to be placed in a mana chamber after lunch. Until then, we have other subjects to consider.”

Eishirou took the stairs to the observation deck and made his way to his desk. Placing his bag to the floor next to his chair, he sat down and pulled out his tablet. Jacob was absolutely right when he said they had other things to consider.

“I’m curious about that stained glass in the tower,” Eishirou revealed as he flipped through the photos he had taken of said mosaic. “Though, all I have to work with is snapshots.”

“Something that will stay that way for a while,” Jacob was quick to point out.

“Yeah.”

From the protectiveness in Jacob’s voice, Eishirou was certain that even if there weren’t two missing teams of Elites, he wasn’t to be heading back there any time soon. Not that he could find fault in Jacob’s caution and protectiveness.

“Those humanoid ShadowDwellers were unlike the others on the island,” Eishirou murmured as he flipped to the photo of the cave painting.

“Not much is known about ShadowDwellers in general,” Jacob explained as he moved to his own cluttered desk and sat down. “But there is one consensus that is agreed upon; they're a product of their environment. ShadowDwellers are created from mana themselves. So, it makes sense if an ancient tribe of humans believed in mythical creatures than those memories could be retained in the environment around them, thus giving ShadowDwellers an intention and form to bring to the physical realm.”

Eishirou lifted his gaze from his tablet to look over at Jacob. “Residual memories and energies?”

“Right.”

“So, those humanoid ShadowDwellers have the potential to be the residual energy of the humans that once lived there?”

“Possibly.”

“Then it’s safe to assume that those cave paintings I've seen so far are an indication to the types of ShadowDwellers that inhabit Flutterlight Forest,” Eishirou mused as he flipped more of his photos and stopped at the first one he took. “Which means...”

“Which means?”

Eishirou grimaced. “There's a giant spider ShadowDweller somewhere on that island…”

Jacob was silent for a moment before sarcastically stating; “Sounds exciting.”

“I rather not,” Eishirou muttered as he flipped past the photo and tried to push aside the vison of an enormous spider lurking somewhere within Flutterlight Forest. Worst still, towering over the trees of Flutterlight Forest.

A-at least it couldn’t sneak up on them, right?

…Those humanoid ShadowDwellers did, though. Changing their shape and size. Acting more like a liquid than a solid.

“Mana can manifest in a multitude of ways, huh?”

“That’s right,” Jacob quickly returned as he leaned back in his chair and rested his feet casually upon his desk. “There’s mana in literally everything. And it can take the form of anything. It all depends on intent.”

Intent…

Intention manifesting into a physical presence. Was that all that there was to it?

“Do you think that if an intention is strong enough, it could lead to a consciousness?”

That question caused Jacob to fall silent for a moment or two. He appeared genuinely surprised by the question before quickly falling into thought. “There is still much we don’t understand about mana, either,” he admitted. “That is a good question. Anything is possible.”

Jacob leaned back into his chair and rested his elbow on the armrest. “Something on your mind?” he asked as he rested his chin in his palm.

Eishirou didn’t answer immediately. He glanced down at his tablet. The photo of the underground mosaic on the screen. “The Red Lily appeared just when it was needed. Was it drawn because of desperation? Or because of something else?”

Jacob remained silent as Eishirou continued to muse aloud.

“Could I have unwittingly called upon it?”

He glanced over the observation deck toward the jewelled relic. It seemed to glint and sparkle under the lighting. Almost as if in response to him.

“But, if I did, why can’t I now? Am I missing something?”

“It’s possible that the relic will only react under certain circumstances,” Jacob interjected. “And you met those circumstances within the tower. If that is the case, I’d rather not have you in a situation like that again.”

No, he didn’t want to put others through that, either.

“Which means we’re unlikely to know the true power of the Red Lily,” Eishirou added.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we can’t research the myth and legend behind it,” Jacob was swift to remind him. “If everything was known at the beginning, then it wouldn’t be as much fun, would it?”

Eishirou couldn’t argue with that. “Yeah, you’re right. The Red Lily will just have to keep its secrets for now.”

No point in getting frustrated. He should count himself lucky that the relic had returned with him. It was there. Safely kept within the museum. It was close by. He didn’t need to trek all the way back to Flutterlight Forest to find it.

“There’s someone I think you should speak with,” Jacob suddenly announced.

Eishirou tilted his head to the side. “Who?”

“Professor Jairus. He specialises in mediation and the manifestation of mana. He may be able to help you find a way to link with the Red Lily once more. Under control conditions and away from danger.”

“You think that’s possible?” Eishirou asked as he sat up straight in his chair.

“Anything is possible at this point,” Jacob replied as he leaned forward in his chair to shuffle through the files and documents covering his desk. “At the very least, we can learn whether or not this avenue is worth the effort. What do you say?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a try.” Eishirou didn’t see the harm in trying. If nothing else, it might help him with his medical and restoration training.

“Let me speak with him first before we make any concrete plans, hm?”

That was reasonable. He probably needed to fill in some information to Professor Jairus before any real training could start.

Jacob leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk. He then unexpectedly rested his chin in the palms as he focused his attention completely on Eishiou. “By the way; you and Zayne seem close.”

There was some kind of insinuation within Jacob’s voice. It brought a blush to Eishirou’s cheeks immediately. “Ah, well, yeah?”

Jacob continued to stare at him for the long, most awkward second. “Love at first sight, huh?”

Eishirou practically choked on a sharp intake of air.

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Jacob said, having the audacity to find amusement out of his reaction.

“Th-that’s not it!”

“Oh? Well, do tell!”

Eishirou’s face burned and his blood pumped in his ears from sheer embarrassment. He was aware that Jacob was just teasing him. Zayne was handsome and cute in a way. But he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him.

Sure, he felt safe with him. And liked his company. And knew that he could rely on him. And…

Gah!

“I’m not having this conversation with you!” Eishirou insisted most firmly as he took to his feet and quickly gathered his stuff.

“Come now, don’t be a bore!” Jacob laughed. “Give me details!”

“I’m leaving now!”

Jacob’s laughter followed him out of the research labs, and he quickly made his way through the rest of the museum.

Even if he did have a crush on Zayne, he didn’t want to discuss it with Jacob. He was like a father figure to him. And it would be downright embarrassing to talk about those kinds of things. Even in jest.

Although, he couldn’t really blame Jacob for wanting to tease him like that. Or for making an observation. He had only known Zayne for a few days. A week, probably. But they had become really close. To say that they developed some kind of a bond wouldn’t be a wild accusation to make.

But he…couldn’t be in love with the guy, right? He was an Elite, after all…

“Eishirou, there you are!”

The sound of a familiar voice calling his name, pulled Eishirou from his thoughts. He immediately stopped in his tracks and lifted his head up to look down the path he was on.

Oh, it was Professor Tyrone.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Irwin stated as he hurried over to him and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I heard everything that happened. I cannot believe you were in such a dangerous situation.”

“O-oh, yeah, it was pretty intense,” was all Eishirou could manage in response. He honestly wasn’t all that familiar with Irwin looking as serious as he was. He had always appeared carefree and jovial.

He…must have been really worried.

“What was that Elite team doing?” Irwin continued with a shake of his head. “They were meant to protect you.”

“They did!” Eishirou immediately instead. But he fell silent a second later and winced. “It just…got out of hand.”

Bit of an understatement, but the sentiment was fair.

Irwin, however, didn’t feel the same. “Out of everyone there, you were the one who ended up in the infirmary. Eishirou, that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

While Eishirou understood the concern and worry, he still wanted to protest. “We were ambushed. They couldn’t have predicted that. Besides, I may have awoken up in the infirmary, but I wasn’t injured. And I got out, right? So, they were the ones who were responsible. They did what they were supposed to.”

“Not good enough,” Irwin returned swiftly as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Our precious little Eishirou must be protected at all costs.”

Eishirou blinked before a small smile made its way to his lips. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious,” Irwin insisted, somewhat childishly with a pout, prompting a small chuckle from Eishirou. He soon righted himself and gave him a sincere look. “But I’m glad you’re alright. I’ve been sick with worry ever since I got that communication from Jacob.”

“That’s right, you were conducting your own expedition, huh?”

“Yes, but not to Flutterlight Forest,” Irwin replied with a nod. “There was a smaller island. More like a swamp located north of the island.”

Eishirou immediately perked up in interest. “What? What’s it like? Anything interesting?”

“Now, now,” Irwin returned with a slightly chiding tone. Going as far as to poke Eishirou in the middle of his forehead. “I’m still processing data. Be patient. With things the way they are with Flutterlight Forest, and if you’re patient, you might be able to visit there, too.”

“Really?”

He really hoped he could. Get back out into the field and find some more intriguing discoveries. Maybe the small island held some clue to the Red Lily, too. North of Flutterlight Forest, he believed that was the direction the stain glassed within the lighthouse was positioned.

“By the way, Eishirou?”

“Yeah?”

“I heard about the relic, too.” Irwin unexpectedly clamped a hand on his shoulder again. “And, perhaps it would be best that no one else does.”

Eishirou blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Through you and the relic, you granted an elite some impressive skills. Skills to turn the tide of battle. To grant him near invincibility.” He squeezed Eishirou’s shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m just worried that other Elites might want the same. I’m just worried that they might try to harm you to get what they want.”

Was…was that really a possibility? Would an Elite really do that?

“I…wasn’t going to tell anyone, anyway,” Eishirou muttered.

Irwin gave him a comforting smile. “I’m sure you weren’t. I’m just being protective. I think we all are.” A broad grin suddenly made its way to his lips and he reached out with a hand to ruffle Eishirou’s hair. “After all, you’re our favourite little researcher!”

“H-hey!” Eishirou stuttered in embarrassed and lightly swatted at Irwin’s hand.

“Take is easy, yeah?” Irwin continued as he dropped his hand to his side and watched in mild amusement as Eishirou patted down his hair. “Don’t go putting yourself in dangerous situations like that again.”

“I’ll try not to,” Eishirou reassured as he wrangled control over his brown hair. “But if I do, I trust Zayne to get me out of it. I should get going.”

Just as he said that, his communicator buzzed from his pocket. He immediately reached for it and pulled it out. As he flicked on the screen, a familiar yet surprising name appeared on the screen.

“Ah, it’s Zayne,” Eishirou stated as he turned to regard Irwin briefly. “See you later, Professor Tyrone. I promise to stay out of trouble!”

“Remember to take it easy,” Irwin reminded him before he turned away and headed down the path, waving an arm idly over his shoulder. “And stop calling me professor!”

Eishirou turned his attention back to his communicator and answered it. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Zayne’s image returned. “You busy?”

“No, not really,” Eishirou replied as he idly wandered along the path that would take him back into the main hub of the academy. “Are you done with training?”

“Not yet. Listen, can you do me a favour?”

Eishirou blinked. “What is it?”

“I left my spare mana cartridge in our room. Can you bring it to me?”

Eishirou stopped mid-step and frowned. “Ah, I can. But I don’t think I can enter the Elite Training Centre.”

He couldn’t really imagine them letting a Passive just wander in like that. Though, to be fair, he never tried. He just assumed that he couldn’t go. And in all honesty, he never had a reason to visit the training centre.

“You’ll be fine,” Zayne immediately replied, insistent yet reassuring. “I wouldn’t ask if I thought you would be hassled. Just enter through the bleachers. I’ll see you.”

Well, Eishirou couldn’t deny the request after that. Even if he was still hesitant. “Ah, ok.”

“Thanks,” Zayne could be seen grinning on screen. “Appreciate it!”

“See you soon, I guess,” Eishirou replied before he closed the call. He stared at the handheld device for a moment before he shook his head.

Well…looked like he was going to see the inside of the Elite Training Centre.

[sepublic]

What constitutes a ‘Demon’?

There’s been some discussion amongst this fanbase about what exactly a ‘demon’ is. We know they come in a wide variety of shapes and forms, and we know that demons are evidently capable of full sapience (but not all of them are).

From what we know thanks to King, our not very preeminent scholar on the matter, demons are “grim tricksters of the twilight, creatures of sulfur and bone,” that they “live only to create chaos and misery”, and all have a weakness to purified water (and passive-aggressive comments).

What purified water exactly is in the context of this show, I’m not sure and it might not even be elaborated upon, but it’s fun to think about! So perhaps ‘demon’ refers to any creatures with a weakness to purified water. While King’s account should admittedly be taken with a grain of salt, considering how inaccurate he was with the Snaggleback (or not, since according to @anistarrose we may have simply encountered a juvenile and not a full adult), what his words seem to imply is that demons are nocturnal, are said to cause chaos, and are made of sulfur and bone. That last bit intrigues me the most- Humans already have sulfur in our body, so that implies that demons have a particularly high ratio. That, or witches simply have little to no sulfur in their bodies, seeing as how humans aren’t from the Demon Realm and wouldn’t be included in that context.

But what about magic? I’m of the assumption that demons can’t do magic, and perhaps that’s what differentiates them from witches. However, in Covention, two witches from the Bakers Coven try to invite King, which seems useless since we know he doesn’t have a magic bile sac.

And how do we know? In Episode 8, Eda is in King’s body and attempts to cast magic while trapped at the Kitty Cafe. Eda is an incredibly skilled and experienced witch, so she’s never had an issue with the skill of casting magic, and even if King had an incredibly diminutive sac that hasn’t fully developed, it should’ve yielded at least some kind of spell. Eda states that she’s “no longer a witch” indicating she knows King isn’t, and Roselle and Dottie agree.

However, if one considers the theories about King having once been the King of Demons, and even the Boiling Isles Titan, then... he could be a one-of-a-kind person. Meaning, there’s no one like him, so no one actually knows his true capabilities and nature. However, King is certain that he was the King of Demons, so for now, let’s just say he is one.

So why would those two Baker Witches be interested in King joining, if he can’t do magic? Perhaps they don’t realize he’s not a Witch because they’ve never seen anyone else like him. Maybe it’s just a throwaway gag/joke that I’m taking too seriously. Perhaps non-witches have some value to covens as testers and voluntary subjects. Amity says the Covention is only for witches, did those two bakers just assume King was a witch because he was there? We see this guy at the Covention;

And he looks a lot like this demon;

But it’s highly likely he’s just there as a placeholder background character.

Could a demon perform magic if you transplanted a magic bile sac to their heart? If so, would ‘demon’ more specifically refer to beings who are born without magic, but still capable of it later on down the line? Eda seems to be under the impression that Luz can’t ever gain a bile sac, so presumably neither can demons, but maybe there’s a difference between human and demon anatomy to be considered.

The line blurs when we acknowledge Adegast, AKA that one-off minor villain who died in his debut. Eda calls him a puppeteer, specifically a “demon who specializes in scamming and manipulating people.” Adegast is a demon, but he can also conjure powerful illusions. Do these illusions count as magic- Specifically, illusion magic? When we first meet ‘him’ in his wizard illusion, he briefly summons two spell circles, but is that actual magic or just an illusion that looks like magic (versus actual magic that creates an illusion)? Perhaps Adegast’s illusions technically aren’t magic, at least not magic as the Boiling Isles defines it (presumably something to deal with a bile sac). If he were an Illusion Witch, why is he in the Potions business? Is it like Willow, where she was placed into a track she wasn’t good at?

We see Adegast create an illusion by spraying Luz with a cloud of smoke, and when his puppets are destroyed, they dissipate into smoke, so perhaps that’s what they all are; Just smoke and mirrors, minus the mirrors. So because Adegast’s illusions don’t come from bile, it’s not magic, ergo he’s not a witch and this lends further credence to the ‘Demons are those who can’t do magic’ theory. On another note, we see Adegast revert to a smaller ‘true’ form after being wounded by Luz... is this form the result of magic, or just an illusion or the effects of a potion?

(If his illusions don’t come from magic and he can’t perform it, then Adegast probably shouldn’t have entered the Potions business when Potion magic is such a big deal that there’s a designated major coven for it. Even if he got Eda out of the way, he’s competing with literally every other Potion Witch in the Boiling Isles, and they have the advantage of magic! Maybe he uses his illusions to make his potions seem more potent than they are, who knows? This lends to the unpleasant image of him spiking potions with his illusionary gas, but this show has always been pretty horrifying, so.)

Hooty is referred to by the Demon Hunters as a ‘house demon’. There’s the possibility that Hooty was made by Eda, since her owl constructs resemble him so much, and Hooty mentions Eda teaching him everything he knows. However, the Demon Hunters also mention removing Hooty from the house, when he IS the house... Perhaps this is a case of characters not fully understanding who they’re interacting with? We do see living alarm bells at Hexside and the Covention center, and a doorknob that tries to eat Luz in Episode 2. Could the term demon also apply to living fixtures who are made for a purpose?

If demons also refers to living beings who are made, I assume Abominations don’t count as demons because they don’t eat and thus aren’t living, which would explain that distinction.

Is that why Eda calls the Bat Queen a demon, since palismans are living beings who are made? However, we don’t know if Eda is aware of the Bat Queen’s palisman nature or not, so her being a demon could just be an assumption on Eda’s part. Palismans also presumably have magical abilities (and we see the Bat Queen appear to use a spell to bind Willow and Gus). So, CAN Demons perform magic, or is there a misconception here?

There’s also the possibility that ‘demon’ is just a catch-all term. An othering term, meant to describe anything that isn’t a witch. Only... witches come in a wide variety of appearances, some more inhuman than the rest. Are witches all the same species, and thus able to procreate with one another (and thus a demon is a being a witch couldn’t reproduce with)? Do all witches, amongst their bile sacs, share a common DNA or ancestry? Are they all the same species, merely different in appearance because that’s just the way they work, or because of magic causing changes? Or does it just refer to non-humanoids?

Maybe ‘demon’ is just a societal definition, and a loose one at that. Maybe it DOES refer to animals and beasts, but because of social biases, some characters are called demons when they’re not? Beast-keeping is a term, but Demon-keeping isn’t, as far as we know. Getting into further speculation, could ‘demon’ refer to the original inhabitants of the Boiling Isles? Could witches have come from another land beyond the bones of the titan? Are demons the creatures born directly of the titan’s flesh, or perhaps the parasites that inhabited its body? The descendants of its equivalent to gut bacteria and white blood cells? The Boiling Isles is located within the Demon Realm, which could imply they’re progenitors of some sorts. Of course, maybe demon also has multiple definitions as well.

Overall, here are my proposed ideas for what defines a ‘demon’ in the Boiling Isles;

-Not capable of magic due to lacking a bile sac

-The indigenous population of the Boiling Isles

-Wildlife in general, as well as those linked to beasts or like them

-A social term for those perceived as more animalistic, regardless of such an observation has actual scientific accuracy or not. Perhaps the social aspect of the term is also for beings who aren’t immediately identifiable, don’t belong to a specific species, are one-of-a-kind, etc. AKA it’s the Boiling Isles equivalent to the term ‘cryptid’

-Non-humanoids

-Those vulnerable to purified water, with a presumably high concentration of sulfur making up their anatomy

-Anything living that isn’t a ‘witch’, specifically the species (this applies to living constructs as well, presumably, though if it extends to Palismans is unknown)

-An unknown, perhaps yet-to-be introduced factor

-A term with various definitions and meanings depending on the context

-Some combination of the above-mentioned ideas

What do you guys think? It is worth noting that King refers to demons as “creatures like me,” which implies perhaps some shared genealogy/something objective and physical, not just societal, but who knows? Perhaps the most important question to ask is;

Am I overthinking things?

[sparkie96]

“Break the Chains” Preview

(Summary: Vergil originally came to Spain looking for something to strengthen himself after his defeat at the hands of Dante and after his liberation from Mundus. He ends up finding more than he originally intended to. 

Leon manages to get Ashley back home, but had failed to save himself from Saddler. Good thing Vergil shows up while he’s being humiliated. Rated M for Suggestive Themes, Violence, and Language.)

The sky was the same color gray it had been all morning, making it difficult to determine what time of the day it was. The road had been long and unforgiving, and Vergil hoped he would find what he was looking for when he got to the area. The demons and their weapons that he could use for his own use...or at least help him defeat his own brother, now that the threat of Mundus was no longer. 

But Dante? Defeat after defeat, time after time...it was becoming taxing. He couldn't beat him and no matter how he tried to avoid him, he couldn't shake him. Soon, Vergil would need to figure out either a new way to beat Dante...or perhaps, choose a different path entirely.

Most likely the latter if he continued on like this. 

But, here he was, traversing the backwater hellhole of Spain's lesser known areas in search of what? He really didn't know what it was yet. The Alpha was tired and he hoped he could find whatever it was he had been sent out here to find. He hoped it wasn't just a fool's dream or empty rumors. 

As he had gotten closer, he could hear laughter and music, but it wasn't like the other dozens of times he had heard either. No, the laughter was not like that of happiness...or perhaps it was but at the expense of another person's happiness or well being. Like how Mundus used to laugh when watching Vergil suffer. That sadistic type of laugh that made one's spine ice over in fear...or made one's heart light with rage. It was an evil sound.

And Vergil was plenty familiar with evil. 

He continued his trek into the village, wearing his hood lower over his eyes just in case. He had been away from the human world for a very long time, and there was no telling what these beastly creatures were like now. The ones he had encountered when he went through another nearby village hadn’t been very friendly, at least not by human standards. And he was pretty sure that humans' heads were not supposed to explode into thrashing tentacles nor were they supposed to have such deep crimson eyes. 

As he entered the town square, he noticed that there had been a small crowd, gathered around what he could not see, but he could see a sort of platform. On said platform, seated in a red throne was a man, wearing purple robes with a staff of some sort. The staff was clearly not normal, tentacles protruding from it and flailing freely about. The man in question didn't look normal either, gold orbs focused on something down below as his head sat propped in his hand. The leader, if Vergil had to guess. Why else would he be sitting higher than everyone else and seated in such a gaudy throne? 

Speaking of everyone else, the crowd laughed and mocked whatever was in the center of them. Some threw rotten fruit and vegetables, others threw coins. This made the white-haired man even more confused. Vergil managed to push through the crowd, head kept low as he made his way to the middle and then the front. He seemingly was able to blend in with them, letting him pass with ease. Once he got to the front, he wasn’t sure what he had been seeing, but he felt very disgusted. 

In the center of the circle was a petite blond male in very odd garb. Had it not been for the demeaning words in Spanish or the way the men holding him down while the one beat him and shoved him down, shoving his face down into the dirt, Vergil would have assumed the blonde to be one of the crowd and made for entertainment. It was obvious that the blond was supposed to be entertainment, but he wasn’t enjoying it and he was clearly not one of them. Dull looking eyes flickered from blue to red back to blue, staring ahead and clawing at the ground, as if doing so would get him out of this situation. 

“Still so stubborn, American.” The leader laughed, “Just submit...enjoy yourself. You know you want to. You have no reason to fight anymore.” 

Vergil looked to “The American”, feeling...something as their eyes met. It was like the blond knew that Vergil was not like the others, and Vergil wasn’t sure what to think. He shook his head slowly as the human looked at him. He felt that pang of...pain? Fear? The laughter and sounds rang in his ears, he could hear his mother’s voice in the distance, calling out and yelling his name...hearing her screams. The humans or whatever they were twisted into demonic looking creatures, leering down at him. 

He clenched his eyes shut and swallowed back another breath, trying to push back the horrifying memories. He had felt weak...he couldn’t save his mother. He met the human’s eyes and he didn’t know if it was in his head or not, but he swore the blond begged him for help, a hand weakly outstretched toward him. 

“VERGIL!” Eva had screamed, his mother’s eyes flashing before his own as he heard her blood curdling screams. 

He hadn’t even been thinking when he took out his sword, his usually calm composure melting away as he tore off the ratted cloak he had been wearing over top of his usual outfit before he began cutting down the humanoid creatures around him. He couldn’t hear the screams as he cut them down, in fact, it didn’t even sound like they were screaming at all. More so hollering in anger, even as the Yamato sliced them down. 

It made killing them that much more satisfying. 

“Get up.” Vergil commanded, grasping the blond’s arm and hauling him to his feet. 

The half-demon looked away at the blond’s current state of undress, taking off his trench coat and wrapping it around the human’s shoulders, instructing the younger to button it up. Vergil cut down more of the insane villagers. The cult leader stood above them, laughing and asking Vergil who he was and what he thought he was doing here. And why was he so intent on ruining his fun punishment of the “American Agent”. 

“You don’t even know who this man is, do you?” Saddler asked, “Leon here ruined my plans, killed my men, and let the President’s daughter flee...him and his collaborators.” 

Vergil leveled his sword at the man, watching him cautiously while standing protectively in front of this “Leon”. He growled low at the remaining villagers and their leader, settling on the pus colored gaze of the man before him. He didn’t know why...but he felt this strong need to protect the human behind him. Whether it was because he was reminded of his failure to protect his mother...or his failure to fight back against Mundus. 

And the bastard before him wasn’t helping that anger. 

He had been on autopilot when he killed this man and the remaining villagers, turning to the human before him. Leon hadn’t moved an inch, still too paralyzed with either fear or shock...maybe both. The blond looked up at him, his irises now a red color, like the others. Except this man wasn’t attacking him. His eyes seemed to fade from red to blue, Vergil cupping his chin and looking into his eyes. 

“You’re not like the others.” Vergil stated, “But you have whatever they have.” 

Leon looked up at him, nodding his head, “They infected me with the Plaga.”

Vergil hummed, “Good...I need it.” 

Leon narrowed his eyes at the man, raising a brow, “...what?” 

“The “Plaga” as you put it...I need it.” Vergil elaborated, “It made that man stronger...so I believe it could do the same for me.” 

The human was quiet for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of laughter in an almost hysteric manner. Vergil raised a brow, looking down at the younger with interest and mild annoyance. He had just saved Leon’s life...and the blond was laughing at him. Leon cleared his throat as he settled down, apologizing for laughing, but clarifying that the parasite wasn’t exactly an “energy booster”. More of something that took over and killed whatever consciousness that was left in their mind. 

“It takes over…” Leon recalled, “It makes you feel like shit...and then it takes over until there’s nothing left.” 

Vergil listened intently, “I would still like to examine it...if you don’t mind.” 

Leon took another deep breath, but then looked up at the man skeptically, “Who are you?” 

“You’ll find out when I get that parasite.” 

“...yeah...not gonna happen…” Leon replied, “It’s kind of attached to my spinal cord…” 

Now it was Vergil’s turn to raise a brow as Leon explained to the best of his ability about how the parasite attached itself to the spine of its host after it hatched. Leon also showed him the pills he took to suppress the growth of the parasite. Even after his capture, he had been able to take them and resist the parasite and Saddler’s influence over him through it. 

“Except it looks like I’m stuck with it.” Leon sighed, “Considering he destroyed the machine and the only way to get this damn thing out of me...and I’ve only got a few of these pills left.” 

Vergil looked the human over, stroking his chin as he did so, an idea coming to mind, “I think I can help in a way that we both can get what we want.” 

“How so?” Leon asked. 

Vergil proposed Leon coming back with him to his realm. He may or may not have had means to get the parasite out of him, feeling pity for the younger after all that had happened to him. He didn’t want the human to suffer anymore than necessary. When Leon questioned him about his intentions, and why the man had helped him, Vergil admitted that he understood what it felt like to be humiliated by the enemy. To be a slave to the will of another. And he wanted to help Leon “break the chains”. 

“I helped you, you help me.” Vergil said, using his sword and cutting a hole in the dimensions, “Do we have a deal, Mr…?” 

Leon held out a hand, giving a small smile, “Leon Kennedy.” 

Vergil looked down at the offered hand and then back up at the blonde, accepting it, “Vergil.” 

[alarajrogers]

Untitled Picard/Q-ish fic

This is very rough -- no beta, we die like women -- and I don’t even have a title for it yet, but I wanted to get it out there because it’s late. It was supposed to be for Tapestry Day, Feb. 15th.

It is very subtle Picard/Q, and could be interpreted as friendship rather than romantic feelings, because that is how I roll. It’s set in the current Star Trek: Picard series (up through episode 5), and explains why Q hasn’t been around to help Picard with things like supernovas killing billions of people (and for that matter other things that are spoilers so I won’t mention them but would affect his son.)

There was someone sitting in his study.

There was someone sitting in his study, and Laris and Zhaban were nowhere to be found. Quietly Picard edged toward where one of the various hidden phasers that Laris and Zhaban insisted on hiding in his study, dining room, bedroom and pretty much everywhere was stashed.

“You’re not very stealthy in your old age, mon amiral,” a voice said. A voice that was familiar, but that he hadn’t heard in… had it been decades? At least twelve years, to be sure.

“Q!” Picard stepped forward into the study, unable to control the joyful smile on his face. As soon as he was close, though, he took half a step back, literally taken aback by what he saw.

Q looked old.

Not as old as Picard himself, perhaps, but his face was lined and worn, his dark hair shot through with silver. He also had facial hair, a mustache and a brushing of beard on his chin and jawline.

“You look almost happy to see me,” Q said. “Well, you did. Now you just look shocked.”

“I never expected to see you age,” Picard said. “But I suppose you can take the form of an old man as easily as you took the form of a young one.”

Q smiled wryly. “I can, yes, but… there’s always been an element of truth in how I appear to you. I’m not doing this to make some sort of commentary on the fact that you’ve aged… a terrible mortal habit, there, but I don’t imagine I’ll break you of it any time soon.”

“No, I think not,” Picard agreed, nodding. “Are you saying you feel old?” He sat down in the chair that faced Q. “I remember when you told me of your new responsibilities in the Continuum, you said they’d age you prematurely, but I took it for a joke.”

“It was a joke. That’s not… why.” Q closed his eyes. “I know you called for me. You asked me for my help, didn’t you? And I didn’t come.”

“I… assumed that your responsibilities had become too onerous to spend time in the company of mortals anymore,” Picard said, carefully.

It had hurt. When Starfleet had refused to help the Romulans, when there were so many stranded and desperate and Picard had no resources to save them… he had called out to Q. Better to owe his omnipotent sometime-nemesis, sometime-companion something than to cling to his human pride and let billions die.

Q hadn’t come. Picard hadn’t seen him since… since several months before the supernova. Q had said nothing, then, to imply that he wasn’t going to come back.

Picard had spent a long time convincing himself not to feel betrayed by that.

“No, no,” Q said. “I’d have made time for you, if not…” He shook his head. “The one time you break down and spontaneously call for my help, and it had to be for this.”

“So there was a reason for it.”

“A very good reason.” Q snapped his fingers, and a glass of something alcoholic appeared in his hand. Another one appeared on the end table next to Picard.  “Not the house brand, but I imagine occasionally you indulge in something you didn’t grow yourself?”

“Occasionally,” Picard said. Q would get to the point, eventually, and he had learned patience. He picked up the glass and breathed deeply of the aroma. “This is… actually from Betazed, if I don’t mistake it?”

Q nodded. “Adwana wine. Not particularly strong as alcohol goes, not to humans, but it interferes with telepathy.”

“Are we worried about telepaths?”

“Not… exactly.” Q took a sip. “When I’m in human form, the same brain centers that mediate telepathy in humanoids allow me to connect back to the Continuum. I’m not, currently, an extradimensional being driving a puppet around. This is me, mostly.”

The wine tasted rather like sake, but with a sweet undertone that was distinctly fruity and yet wholly un-grape-like. Almost like… blackberries, he thought. But not quite. “You’re shutting down your powers. Why?”

“I don’t want to have them right now,” Q said. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, the Calamarain’s not going to show up on your doorstep. I can’t possibly fully shut myself down with a drink or two. I just… I don’t want to be so aware of it.”

“I suppose you have your reasons.” Picard set the drink down. It really wasn’t to his taste.

“And you’re just waiting with bated breath for me to tell you what they are, aren’t you?”

“That is why you’re dropping hints, I think.”

“You know me so well.” He twirled the drink in his hand. “Tell me, Picard. You had hypotheses, I’m sure. What did you guess was the reason I didn’t come when you called?”

“I’ve said. I thought your responsibilities—”

“There were other things you thought, though.”

“So I see the adwana isn’t interfering with your telepathy that much.”

Q shook his head. “I’m not reading your mind, but I know you.” He leaned closer to Picard. “Jean-Luc, there has never been a day in your life when you haven’t been considering multiple possibilities for everything that happens.”

“Well, I thought perhaps you were forbidden to interfere. Or—”

“Or?”

“Or that… well, why would you care about humans? You have your own life in the Continuum. You have a son. Perhaps your… interest in me was… a passing thing. Something you have no need for, anymore.”

“Mon amiral. Sometimes you don’t know me at all.” Q sounded mock-hurt. “But then, I imagine the truth would be… impossible for you to guess at.” He leaned forward. “I didn’t abandon you willingly, Jean-Luc. Yes, I had more going on in the Continuum than I’ve had in billions of years, but… in the Continuum, I’m a leader now. People look up to me. I’m not sure I have friends there even now. Allies, comrades-in-arms, but… no Q sees me as myself.”

“Well, by definition I don’t see you as yourself, since you have to take a different form to interact with me.”

“Yes. Ironic, isn’t it? I can most be me with a creature who literally can’t even see me. Worthy of being included in a stand-up comedy routine.” He took another deep sip, and then set the glass down with emphasis. “I was dead, Picard.”

Picard raised both eyebrows, head going back. “Dead? How?”

“Did you ever wonder… how could a supernova of one star, however large, start triggering an instability in space that blows up other stars?”

“Neither Federation nor Romulan science was ever able to explain that,” Picard admitted. He remembered something, then. When the Q killed each other with the weapons they’d used in the civil war… it had caused supernovas. “Good God. Did the war break out again?”

“In a sense.” Q looked down at his hands, folded in his lap in uncharacteristic stillness. “There was a bomb.”

“I assume you mean some sort of metaphorical something that best translates to my perceptions as a bomb?”

“Oh, no. An actual bomb. Made of Continuum-substance, of course, you wouldn’t have perceived it except through analogy, but… something that explosively releases raw energy of a form that disrupts the pattern of anything made of Continuum energy and tears it to shreds? Sounds to me like a bomb.”

“By any other name,” Picard said quietly. “But – you were dead? What do you mean by that?”

“I mean I was dead. Someone set off a bomb in the Convocation and… a dozen Q died. Which is actually a very large number. I realize it sounds like a trivial number to you—”

“No. You’ve told me that the Q number in the thousands, if that, and even if there were trillions of you, a dozen deaths are never trivial.”

“Thank you for that.” Q took a deep breath. “I was one of the casualties. The others… didn’t have a son. No Q was willing to spend the time and energy needed to put a dead Q back together, no Q had a pattern to follow they could use for reference to do so anyway… except my son. He used himself as the pattern and he spent the past… I don’t actually know how many years putting me back together and I don’t even know if I’m the same me anymore—”

“Stop.” Picard put his hands on one of Q’s. “You’re alive. That’s what’s important.”

“I don’t know if I am,” Q whispered. “I mean, yes, I’m alive, but am I me? I spent billions of years trying to preserve my identity, so many other Q trying to influence me, and now…”

“Listen to me, Q. Life changes us all. Being what you are, I imagine you don’t have much experience with the concept of scars, but even you changed over time, just from the demands of life.”

“This is a rather large change, Picard.”

“Yes. It is. But what’s the alternative? You can’t go back to what you were before, can you?”

“I suppose not.” He stood up and went to the window, looking out. “You know I would have come if I could, Jean-Luc, right?”

“I know.”

“And there’s nothing – I can’t fix it. I can’t fix any of it.” He looked back at Picard. “Do you know – of course you don’t. I changed things. We were – having an argument. You and I. Not important what it was about. But the point is… I altered the past.”

“Wait. What did you do?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He walked back toward Picard. “It’s all gone. All the changes I made. Retroactively. Because we can’t do anything in the region of space affected by the bomb.”

Picard stood up. “Tell me what you did that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Q sighed. “We were arguing about whether I actually care about you mortals. You were very upset. You pointed out that Data died and I did nothing, and he saved my life one of the few times I was vulnerable. You said that I live on the scale of a god and I can’t relate to mortals enough to be friends with one. So, I fixed it.”

“You fixed what?”

“I arranged for Shinzon to be adopted by a human scientist and taken off Remus in his childhood. Never grew up with the hatred and resentment of humanity. Resented you, but he ended up going into Starfleet anyway. No attempt to destroy Earth. So Data didn’t die, you didn’t suffer clone angst, Charlie – that was what his name got changed to – had a happier life and didn’t run around telepathically raping half-human women. Everything was wonderful.” He leaned his forehead on the wall. “And then there was the bomb. And every change made by any Q, ever, in that region of space, was reverted to whatever it had been before it was changed. And I was dead.” He swallowed. “And now – I’m back, but I can’t bring him back. I mean, I could, he died in Earth orbit, but how am I supposed to bring him back in a world where you idiots would declare him illegal and there’d be assassins trying to kill him?”

“Q. It’s all right.” Picard walked around a chair,  and reached up to his shoulder. “No one expects it of you. Data wouldn’t have expected it of you.”

“You did, once.”

“Apparently that was in an alternate universe. I don’t think you can hold that against me.”

“But you were right.” Q closed his eyes. “I wanted him to live.”

“So did I.”

Q sat down on a sofa that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Picard sat next to him. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve… wanted to tell you, for some time. I never realized, back in the days when you came to visit me frequently… that I’d miss you, as much as I did, if you didn’t come back.” He held Q’s hand clasped in both of his. “I… did consider the possibility that the Romulan supernova represented your civil war resuming, and that I hadn’t seen you because… you’d become a casualty. To be honest, when there were no further supernovae, of course I was relieved because unexpected supernovae are horrible, but it also occurred to me that, if there’d been a conflict among your people, you’d resolved it. And if it was resolved so quickly…” He swallowed. “I thought that meant you were alive.”

Q raised an eyebrow. “What part of me suggests to you that I’m good at resolving conflicts quickly, Picard?”

“The fact that you did. The first time.”

“Obviously not well enough, or no one would have planted a bomb.” He took a deep breath. “So. You missed me?”

“I did. Although I wasn’t going to tell you, if you came back and it turned out your reasons for not coming to see me in so long were trivial.” Picard smiled.

Q laughed. “I suppose you don’t consider death all that trivial?”

“Not at all.” He let go of Q’s hand. “I’m glad you’re alive now.”

“I… suppose I am as well.”

“You suppose?”

“So many died, Jean-Luc. So many. And I’m alive.”

“That’s survivor’s guilt. It’s normal.” He smiled wryly. “There are times when I’m still miserable with guilt that I’m alive and Data isn’t. Or Jack Crusher.”

“Was he as boring as his wife?”

Picard raised a finger and shook his head. “None of that. We’re past the stage where you insult my friends, now. I expect you to keep a somewhat civil tongue in your head.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Oh, how will I ever live up to this overbearing expectations?” He looked at Picard. “It’s like you think I’m a good person.”

“Now that I know something of the culture of the Q Continuum? I do think you’re a good person. About half your flaws are species-or-culture specific, and the other half don’t outweigh the ways in which you try to do what you see as the right thing even when you have to fight your culture to do so.”

Q smiled slightly. “I think you’ve finally gone senile, Picard.” Picard stiffened slightly. “Wait. Did… you get a diagnosis?”

“Assuming that the thing you showed me was a real possible future at the time… I’ve managed to put it off for some years, based on the warning you gave me, but it’s not curable. Yes. I have Irumodic Syndrome. Thank you for the extra years, by the way. I wouldn’t have known to take the treatments that can slow it down or put it off, if not for you.”

“And you’re just going to let this happen?” Q stood up and started to pace, angrily gesticulating with his hands. “You’re all right with just losing your mind? Your intellect, your memories? You’re going to let all that disappear in a haze of confusion and end up in a nursing home drooling applesauce onto your bib?”

Picard turned his hands out and up in his lap, a shrug without shoulders. “I don’t see where I have an alternative. I suppose I could die in the course of this quest, and then I’d avoid it…”

“No.” Q spun on his heel and faced Picard. “There’s another way. Come with me.”

“Come… with you?”

“To the Continuum,” Q clarified.

Picard stood. “Q. You know I have no desire to become something other than human.”

“It isn’t about what you desire.” Q started pacing again. “I know what you want, Picard. If I was making this offer because I care about you and I don’t want to see everything that made you you slowly evaporate before you finally shuffle off this mortal coil and I never see you again, I know you’d say no. ‘I have no desire to be anything other than human, Q’, like being human is the ultimate achievement.”

“It may not be the ultimate achievement, but it is what I am. And if you’re not making this offer because you don’t want me to die—”

“I don’t want any more Q to die,” Q said, walking toward Picard, his eyes completely focused on Picard’s. “You’re a diplomat. You’ve stopped countless wars, talked species who were torn apart by civil war into negotiating with each other. And my war isn’t over, not if someone is planting bombs. And the next one could be my son. Or Amanda. Or my ex. Irritating as she is, I don’t want her to die. I don’t want any of them to die, even my enemies.” He knelt in front of Picard, looking up at him. “Please, Jean-Luc. I’m not asking because I want to make you a god and gloat about how you misuse power – in the Continuum we’re not omnipotent, anyway. I’m not asking because I don’t want you to die – I don’t, but I know you won’t accept a reason like that, and I accepted your eventual death as the consequence of caring about a mortal back when I first figured out that you were more to me than a project. I’m asking because the Q don’t have anyone like you, someone who can compromise but who has the kind of iron will and courage of convictions needed to demand that everyone around you compromise too.”

“My ability to compromise didn’t help the people of the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone, in the end,” Picard said softly. “It didn’t save the Romulans.”

“Yes, yes, are you sure you don’t already think you’re a god? You certainly take the blame like you think you’re omnipotent.” Q stood up. “I know you’ve failed at things. But you’re better at this than me. You’re better at this than any Q in the Continuum. And they won’t listen to you if you’re a mere mortal.”

“But they’ll listen to me if I’m a brand new Q?”

“Yes. Because you’ll make them listen. And because my faction will support you.” He paced again. “You’re worried about misusing your power? We can keep you from coming back to this plane of existence until everyone you cared about is dead, so you’re not tempted to intervene. You’re worried about not being human? Well, when you’re dead you’re not a human being because you’re not being anything at all. If you can contemplate ceasing to exist, how can you refuse to contemplate ceasing to exist as you are, transforming rather than dying?”

Picard took a deep breath. “If you’d come to me a few weeks ago, I might have said yes, but… I have obligations, now. I have to find Data’s other daughter, and protect her.”

Q took a deep breath. “I know where she is, but she’s beyond my reach.”

“So she’s in the Beta Quadrant, somewhere near the area of space affected by the Romulan supernova.”

“Yes.”

“And you can’t save her or help her because she’s in a place where Q power doesn’t work.”

“Yes.”

“I already know where she is, Q. She’s on the Artifact. Bruce Maddox told me, a short while ago.”

Q nodded. “Of course you do. But are you aware that when you came in and found me, you thought you were actually back home with your Romulan bodyguards?”

Cold washed over Picard. Q was right. When he’d sensed that someone was in his holographic study, the one that had been programmed to look exactly like home… he’d thought he was home. He’d thought that Laris and Zhaban were around somewhere and that the phasers they’d hidden about the room were also here. “I… yes. You’re right. I can’t deny it.” Picard took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t change anything. As long as I have enough of my mind here in the present that I can keep fighting, I need to find Soji and protect her. She’s all I have left of Data, and… I couldn’t save her sister. I owe it to Data, I owe it to Dahj to find Soji before the Zhat Vash do.”

“And that’s more important than preventing a war. A war that will cause supernovae and kill trillions of mortals as collateral damage, if it breaks out again.”

“I don’t have long to live, Q. Do I? By Q standards?”

“You could live another sixty years and it would be an eyeblink by Q standards, but… no. No, I think you have less time than that, and you know why.”

Picard nodded. “And you told me that you could, in theory, still resurrect Data, but you don’t want to bring him into a world that has banned his species. Which implies that if I died, you could, in theory, resurrect me.”

“Not if you’re in the dead zone when you die.”

“Yes, true. But if a transporter can create copies of people or hold a pattern in a buffer for 80 years, I’m fairly sure you can copy a pattern and hold it in a buffer as insurance against my death in a place you cannot reach.”

“Are you giving me permission to do that?”

“I’m saying yes. To your request. But not now. I’m still alive now, and I have obligations here. I’m not ready to give up my human existence and leave behind everyone I’ve ever known or cared for… yet. But you’re quite right. The nature of mortality says that sooner or later… I will, whether I want to or not.”

“You’re saying yes?” Q looked stunned.

Picard smiled. “I realize that my saying yes to you is an unusual occurrence, but it’s hardly unheard of.”

“I just…” Q shook his head. “I should have known. I picked you for the ability to think outside the constraints of the human condition. I’ve known all along that I could take you at the moment of your death, assuming you’re not inside the dead zone, but I didn’t realize you knew, and I didn’t think you’d give me permission.”

“There’s nothing about death, per se, that’s particularly marvelous,” Picard said dryly. “As a species, mortality gives us a reason to strive, while we live. As an individual… I can’t live forever as a human, and I shouldn’t, and I don’t want to. But from the perspective of everyone I care for, there’s no difference whether I die and cease to exist, or whether I become a new form of life but break my ties with my former existence. And…” He swallowed. “If there is any chance, any chance at all, that I can prevent what happened to Romulus from happening to other worlds… yes. Yes, very few sacrifices are too great for that. I’m willing to give up my death, and my humanity upon my death, to try to prevent war in the Q Continuum.”

“But you’re not willing to give up what remains of your life.”

“No. Soji is beyond your reach, you’ve said so. I presume the Zhat Vash are mostly beyond your reach as well. And I don’t want you stepping in to solve my problems, anyway.”

“Don’t friends help each other?”

“Yes. But friends also don’t demand godlike exercises of power from friends. You thought I’d be upset with you because you tried to save Data, and you failed, because of the bomb. Data wouldn’t have expected that of you and neither would I… alternate timelines regardless. Perhaps my grief was more raw when I said what I said in that other timeline, or perhaps you made me so angry I lashed out. Here and now, though… I want you to understand. You are not my friend because of what you can do for me, with your powers. I’ve never wanted you to do anything for me with your powers; the only time I ever called on you it was because billions of lives were at stake, and that was worth more than my pride as a human.”

“But Soji isn’t?”

Picard closed his eyes. “If you had the power to snap your fingers and ensure her safety, I might say yes, but you’ve told me you don’t. And I don’t want the Zhat Vash deciding to target the Q, not in your people’s weakened state… yes, I know, I know, you’re still omnipotent, we mere mortals can’t possibly hope to harm you, et cetera… but I know the Borg were attempting to work on a means of capturing and assimilating one of you, and that was before you had a war and invented weapons that work on your kind. I can’t rule out that the Zhat Vash could find a way to harm you if you turned your power on them as a blunt force instrument but didn’t have the power to find and stop them all.”

“I think that’s a silly thing to be afraid of, but I’m touched by your concern.” He said it as if it was sarcastic, but the expression on his face was tender. “But very well. I’ll stay out of your quest. I’ll let you live out however long you have, in your human life. I won’t do anything either to hasten or to prevent your death. And when you die, I’ll repair your mind if I have to, if Irumodic Syndrome has taken too much of it away, and I’ll make you a Q, and you’ll come to the Continuum with me to save my people, and your galaxy.”

“To try my best, at the very least,” Picard said.

Q smiled like a man who didn’t want to smile but couldn’t help himself. “You have no idea how delighted I am to hear that.” He spread his arms. “Hug?”

Picard chuckled. “I don’t do hugs, Q, I’m far too emotionally repressed for that. You know better.”

“I do, yes.” Q laughed… and then leaned in and kissed Picard on the cheek before Picard could stop him or back away. “Is that better? I understand you Frenchmen kiss each other like that all the time.”

“Two hundred years ago. Cultures change. We also don’t use expressions like ‘mon petit chou’ anymore.”

“I can’t call you my little cabbage?”

“Not without sounding hopelessly out of date and archaic.”

“You didn’t seem to mind the kiss, though.”

“I’m too old to let myself get riled up by your pranks,” Picard said, smiling broadly.

“What if it wasn’t a prank?”

“Then I’m too old to let myself get riled up by that, either.” He gripped Q’s arms by the elbows. “But don’t wait to come visit until I’m dead and it’s time for our bargain to come due. I’m going to worry about you if I don’t see you.”

Q shook his head. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

Picard released him. “And if you want to propose to me, you have to wait until we’re on the same form of existence. The stress of trying to arrange a wedding at my age really could kill me.”

Q choked on laughter for a moment. “Well, in English, ‘commitment’ is another term for being locked up in the funny farm, and that about sums up how I feel about marriage. But I’ll be absolutely sure to take you out on a few dates while you’re still human. Wine and dine you while it matters.”

“I look forward to it.” Picard glanced at the holographic replica of a clock. It wasn’t moving. Of course not. “Well, whether you have stopped time or not, apparently I am still growing tired, and the hour was late when you came to visit. I need to return to bed.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your beauty sleep, mon amiral.”

“I think I liked ‘mon capitaine’ better.”

“I did too. You never should have let them promote you.”

Picard shrugged. “Time moves forward. We can’t desperately cling to the past, even if it made us happier. Life gives us no choice but to keep growing and changing. Even you, I think.”

“Yes.” Q nodded in agreement. “Even me.”

“Take care of yourself, Q.”

“I’d tell you to do the same, Jean-Luc, but I know you won’t. Not while there are still swashes to buckle and fair maidens to save.”

“Well. I’ll charge into danger without much regard for the odds against me, but I promise to take care of my health, at least.”

“That’s the best I’ll get out of you, I suppose.” Q grinned, and manufactured a hat, obviously so he could tip it. “Until next time, then.”

And he was gone.