#if he really suffered the extent of the injuries I personally want him to have he would not survive lmao

[potatoeofwisdom]

Thinking about my silly little minecraft au and wondering if it would be more or less angsty if Leo is sent hurtling through dimensions during or after the events of the movie…. 🤔

[rainforestakiie]

Hello! Please ignore this if you wish. I promise it will be the last time I ever bug you.

I was wondering about a story in which Adam is first orchestrated to be human’s representative in Heaven. Mutely translating to Adam picking up all the work Heaven rather not bother with. First, orchestrating the residence and basic necessities that would make humans comfortable. Emily helps but angels can only understand humans to an extent.

Adam is mentally exhausted and muffed that his afterlife has been inundated into a full time job. What made it worse was Heaven never acknowledges anything he’s done. The inventions. The farming. Parenting, etc. all of it is simply expected since he’s Adam. The one that ate the apple and nothing else.

He’s already tired by the time Sera gives him another job. Consulting with Hell. The population has basically tripled in hell after the flood and it’s beginning to be a problem. Adam, has only ever been reminded about how much of a fuck up he is. How much his descendants are sinners. How Lucifer tricked him. Or when Lilith left him. It’s all that’s ever spoken to the man that, on earth, as moved passed it. He’s had a life. The worse and the best of it. He’s suffered through his own hells of diseases, injury, disasters, child death. Winters. Bad harvest. Near starvation. All of it. And his reward has been to never stop hearing about that stupid apple, Lucifer. Lilith and Eve.

Now. He has to go and talk to them once a month. Because Heaven wouldn’t want to dirty their hands even a little.

So he goes. And the moment either of them even looks at him, Adam just mentally shuts down.

And pretends not to know them. At all. Greets them like he would any representative. Never calls them by name. Never raises his voice above monotone. And if asked about anything beyond the work, he just plays dumb. He’s just Adam. Just here to do a job. Eden? What Eden? Who’s wife? Oh, apples? Nah. I prefer pears.

If Lucifer gets annoyed and tries to get a raise, Adam just treats him like a stranger. Business. Ignoring them most of the time. Till Lucifer just snaps.

Anyway! That’s my idea. Had it for a whole year. Please ignore it. I was just happy to get it off my chest.

I’ll leave you be now. Thank you!

hello! i love this idea! i think i might have gone a little crazy? i hope you like this! i worked hard on it. i really loved how it came out~

Shut Down

Part 01 - Part 02

hope you enjoy it! and so so sorry for the wait!

The golden haze of Heaven shimmered faintly, eternal daylight casting soft halos on everything, but Adam’s heart was heavy with a darkness that could not be gilded. He stood at the edge of a celestial orchard, one he had designed—by necessity, not desire—watching humans wander the perfect rows of fruit trees. They laughed, basked in a perfection he had painstakingly carved from nothingness. Each fruit held just the right amount of sweetness. Each pathway was wide enough for families to stroll hand in hand. This place wasn’t handed to them; he had built it, from the dirt up.

But none of them knew that. No one knew, or worse, no one cared.

Emily was the only one who ever said thank you. She was small for an angel, slender and fragile looking, with eyes like quiet storms. She tried to understand humanity, tried to help Adam navigate the impossible demands Heaven had placed upon him. But angels were built for praise and worship, not empathy.

“I think the fountain by the entrance could use a little lighter,” she said one day, perched on the edge of the pristine marble basin.

Her voice was tentative, the kind of careful tone you use when you know the person you’re speaking to might break if you push too hard.

Adam wiped sweat from his brow—a pointless habit in Heaven, where no one sweated, but old habits die hard. He stared at her, his exhaustion a dull roar behind his eyes.

“Do you think that’ll make anyone notice it?” he asked bitterly. “Or me?”

Emily didn’t answer. She never did when he spiralled like this. She just stayed close, her silence a quiet balm he didn’t know he needed.

Heaven, for all its glory, had become Adam’s eternal workplace. He was its reluctant architect, its farmer, its mediator. He had planted the first seeds of the orchard. He had taught the humans how to tend them, how to live in this unnatural perfection. He had invented games for the children and written laws to keep peace. And yet, the angels looked right through him, their faces serene and empty, as though all of this had simply sprung into existence the moment humanity arrived.

And why wouldn’t they? He was Adam. The Adam. The man who had eaten the apple, ruined Eden, and dragged humanity down with him. That was the only story anyone cared about.

So when Sera appeared with another task, her wings glowing with soft, celestial light, Adam felt the last thread of his patience snap.

“You’ll need to consult with Hell,” she said, her voice dripping with divine authority.

Adam blinked at her, incredulous. “Consult? With Hell?”

“They’re experiencing… issues,” she said vaguely, as though the words burned her holy tongue. “Human souls. Integration. Something about inefficiencies.”

Adam laughed, the sound sharp and humourless. “Of course. Because when there’s a problem no one wants to deal with, it’s my problem.”

Tilting her head, Sera’s expression as blank as polished stone. “You were the first human. It is your role.”

“My role,” Adam repeated, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. “My role was to live, to love, to die. That was supposed to be it. I didn’t ask to be some… some cosmic janitor cleaning up Heaven’s messes!”

Emily reached for his arm, but he pulled away, the movement sharp and unkind. He regretted it immediately, but he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth.

“I gave up everything for this,” he said, his voice breaking. “My rest. My peace. My soul. And for what? So I can spend eternity fixing problems no one else wants to touch?”

Sera’s serene expression didn’t waver, and that only made his anger burn hotter.

“Why don’t you send an angel?” he demanded.

“They lack the… context,” she said, as though that explained everything.

Laughing again, hollow and bitter. Adam weakly smiled, “Of course. Because understanding humanity only matters when it’s inconvenient for you.”

Sera disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving Adam alone with Emily and his fury. He sank onto the edge of the fountain, his head in his hands.

“Adam,” Emily began, her voice soft.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Just… don’t.”

But she didn’t leave. She never left. Instead, she knelt beside him, her presence steady and warm.

“They’ll never thank you,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, startled by the raw honesty in her voice.

“They’ll never thank you,” she repeated. “But that doesn’t mean what you’ve done doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t feel like it matters,” he said, his voice trembling.

“It matters to me,” she said, and for the first time, her voice cracked.

Adam looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the truth in her eyes. She cared—not because it was her duty, not because she was an angel, but because she had seen his struggle and chosen to stay.

The weight of her gaze was almost too much to bear. But in it, he found the faintest flicker of hope.

Maybe this wasn’t the eternity he had wanted. Maybe it was thankless and exhausting and infuriating. But as long as Emily was there, as long as someone saw him, maybe it wasn’t entirely unbearable.

And so, when the gates of Heaven opened, revealing the dark, twisting paths that led to Hell, Adam took a deep breath and stepped forward. Emily followed, her presence a quiet promise at his side.

Hell was nothing like Adam had imagined. It wasn’t the fiery pit artists had painted or the grotesque chaos preachers had warned of. No, Hell was a kingdom. Cold, sprawling, and alive. Its skies were the colour of bruised steel, its rivers slick with an oily shimmer that reflected the low, glowing embers scattered across its barren expanse. The weight of despair was heavy in the air, like the static before a storm.

Stepping through the gates; Adam’s footsteps silent on the cracked obsidian ground. He had been here so many times now that the surreal horror of it barely registered. Heaven’s emissary to Hell. What a joke. A cosmic errand boy for a celestial bureaucracy that couldn’t be bothered to handle its own messes. Hell’s population had tripled after the flood, and, naturally, it fell to Adam to negotiate solutions. Heaven didn’t want to “dirty their hands,” and Hell… Hell just enjoyed the game.

“Adam,” came the silken voice that made his stomach churn.

Lucifer sat on a throne of jagged iron, lounging with the kind of ease that only someone who ruled Hell could manage. Beside him, Lilith perched like a shadow come to life, her dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and malice.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” Adam said flatly, bowing just enough to be polite but not enough to seem subservient.

Smiling wider, a wolfish grin that would have once made Adam’s heart race—not in fear, but in something he didn’t care to name anymore. “Majesty? Highness? Come now, Adam. When did we become so… formal?”

Adam didn’t answer. He placed his satchel on the obsidian table before the throne, pulling out scrolls and ledgers.

“The population problem is worse than Heaven anticipated,” he said, his tone devoid of inflection. “I’ve outlined potential solutions. We can start with increased partitioning of—”

“Adam,” Lilith interrupted, her voice a purr. “Don’t you even want to ask how we’ve been? It’s been, what… a century? We missed you.”

His hands stilled for the briefest of moments before continuing to unfurl the scroll. “This isn’t a social visit,” he said without looking up. “I’m here to work.”

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on a hand adorned with rings that glinted like fresh blood. “Work. Is that what they’re calling slavery these days?”

Adam didn’t respond.

“You always were good at taking orders,” Lilith murmured, her tone cutting but light, like a blade wrapped in silk.

He ignored her, pointing to the first chart. “Here is where the population density is highest. If we redistribute—”

“Don’t tell me you’re still sour about what happened in Eden,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice a low hum.

Adam didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance up.

“Eden?” he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him. “What Eden?”

Tilting his head, Lucifer studied Adam like a predator watching wounded prey. “You know. The garden. Paradise.”

“Oh,” Adam said, his tone as dry as ash. “That Eden. No, I don’t think I recall.”

Lilith smirked, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her eyes.

“Come now,” Lucifer said, leaning back lazily. “You don’t remember the apples? The tree?”

“Apples?” Adam asked, arching an eyebrow as though the word itself was laughable. “I’m more of a pear person.”

Laughing, sharp and short, but it didn’t have the bite she’d hoped for.

Lucifer’s grin faltered, just slightly. He straightened in his seat, his golden eyes narrowing.

“And Eve?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

“Who?” Adam asked, tilting his head in mock confusion.

Lucifer’s expression darkened. “Your wife, Adam. The one who bit the fruit and became the mother of humanity? Surely you remember her.”

Adam stared at the chart in front of him as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Can’t say I do,” he said. “Must not have made much of an impression.”

Lilith’s smile twisted, her irritation starting to show. “You’re not very good at pretending, Adam.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend,” he said, finally looking up, his eyes flat and lifeless. “I don’t remember because I don’t care. Now, can we move on to the overpopulation issue, or are we going to sit here dredging up meaningless trivia all day?”

For a moment, the room was silent. Lucifer and Lilith exchanged a glance, their confidence shaken by Adam’s complete detachment.

Leaning forward again, Lucifer’s grin returning, but it was forced now.

“You’ve changed,” he said, his tone laced with faux amusement.

Adam met his gaze, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something cold and unyielding.

“No,” he said quietly. “I just stopped caring.”

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Lucifer leaned back, his smile fading into something more thoughtful, and Lilith shifted in her seat, her sharp edges dulled by unease.

Adam turned back to his charts, his hands steady and sure. He felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness, not even relief. Just a hollow calm that carried him through the motions.

They could jab at him all they wanted. They could bring up Eden, the apple, Eve, all the failures they thought defined him. None of it mattered.

He was just Adam. Just here to do a job.

~#~

The grand hall of Hell was colder than usual, its vast expanse of jagged obsidian and molten gold eerily quiet as Adam stepped through the iron doors. His footfalls echoed, but the absence of Lilith’s pointed laughter or biting remarks gave the space an unfamiliar hollowness.

Adam’s gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on the empty throne beside Lucifer’s. His eyebrows twitched upward for a fleeting second before settling back into their usual indifference. He made a soft hum of acknowledgment, then casually unfurled the scroll of contracts in his hand.

“Well, Your Majesty,” Adam began, his voice as flat as ever. “If we could start—”

“Are you going to ask about her?” Lucifer’s voice was a low growl, the words cutting through the silence like the scrape of a blade.

Adam paused, glancing up at the fallen angel’s sharp, smouldering gaze. “Ask about who?”

Teeth clenching, the muscles in Lucifer’s jaw tightening.

“Lilith,” he hissed. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious?”

Adam blinked; his expression impassive. “No.”

He shrugged, setting the scroll on the obsidian table between them. “I don’t care enough to ask.”

The casual dismissal hit Lucifer like a slap. He rose from his throne, his wings flaring slightly, casting long, jagged shadows against the flickering walls. “You insufferable, self-righteous—”

“Are we doing this or not?” Adam interrupted, his voice carrying the faintest edge of impatience. He gestured to the paperwork. “I’ve got things to do. If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled into the armrests of his throne, his claws scraping the iron. His golden eyes narrowed, burning with a fury Adam didn’t bother to acknowledge. Finally, with a sharp click of his tongue, Lucifer hissed, “You’re really pissing me off, Adam.”

Adam didn’t even flinch. “Then perhaps we should—”

Before he could finish, Lucifer disappeared in a flash of golden flames, the heat licking at the edges of Adam’s sleeves. Adam sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Dramatic as always,” he muttered under his breath. He gathered his papers, turned on his heel, and left.

The next meeting was quieter. No jabs. No sharp comments. Lucifer lounged on his throne, his usual smirk absent, his posture uncharacteristically tense. Adam wasted no time getting to work, spreading the golden parchment Sera had drafted across the table.

“The contract outlines an extermination of souls to ease overcrowding,” Adam began, his tone monotone. “Heaven has already approved—”

“She left,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice soft but strained.

Adam didn’t stop, his eyes scanning the contract as if he hadn’t heard.

“Lilith,” Lucifer continued. “She’s gone. Just got bored of me, I suppose.”

His tone was bitter, but there was an undercurrent of something raw beneath it. “She didn’t say much. Just… left.”

Stiffening, the faintest twitch betraying the crack in Adam’s mask, but he kept talking. “The terms are standard. A simple signature will—”

“She said I wasn’t enough,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. His golden eyes were fixed on Adam, searching, waiting for something—anything—to flicker across his face.

Adam sighed, setting the parchment down. He finally met Lucifer’s gaze; his expression still as unreadable as stone.

“What does this have to do with the contract?” he asked, his voice flat. “The quicker you sign it, the quicker this is over.”

Eyes flickering with anger and something else—hurt, maybe. Lucifer stared at the golden parchment, his lip curling in disdain. “I won’t sign it.”

Adam’s patience was thinning. “Neither of us wants to be here, so—”

Lucifer’s bitter laugh cut him off. “That’s funny. Because I do want to be here.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised for the first time in a long while. But Adam recovered quickly, his tone slipping back into its formal detachment. “Very well, Your Majesty—”

Chair screeching as Lucifer shot to his hooves, fire erupting around him.

“Call me by my name!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like thunder.

Adam stared up at him, unimpressed. “You are the King of Hell,” he said flatly.

Slamming a fist against the table, the impact sending cracks spidering through the obsidian.

“Don’t play this game with me, Adam!” Lucifer snarled. “You know who I am! I’m Lucifer! Lu-ci-fer!”

Adam didn’t flinch. His expression remained blank, disinterested, even as Lucifer’s fury blazed hotter.

“You were my friend once!” Lucifer bellowed, his eyes flaring blood-red, his horns curling upward as if they were reaching for the heavens. “Do you even remember what that means? Do you remember us? Do you remember Eden?”

Folding his arms, Lucifer’s gaze cold and unmoved.

“Eden?” he repeated, his voice like a dagger wrapped in frost. “Never heard of it.”

Lucifer’s wings flared wide, and his voice rose to a near scream. “It was our home! Our home! You and I—we in it together! We were supposed to be everything!”

Meeting his blood-red gaze without a hint of fear, Adam’s tone colder than Lucifer’s fire was hot. “And yet here we are.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucifer’s chest heaved, his fiery aura flickering, but Adam remained still, a glacier unmoved by the storm.

Lucifer sank back into his throne, his horns receding, his eyes dimming. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Adam picked up the parchment, holding it out. “The contract, Your Majesty.”

Glaring at him but said nothing. The fire in Lucifer’s eyes burned low, smouldering with something heavier than anger.

He didn’t sign it that day.

~#~

The air in Hell’s grand hall was heavy with tension as Adam entered again, his steps slow and deliberate. Lucifer was already lounging on his throne, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his golden goblet glinting in the dim light. The contract lay untouched on the obsidian table between them, just as it had been at every other meeting. Adam’s eyes barely flicked toward it before he set his jaw and approached.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, placing another copy of the parchment before Lucifer. “The extermination initiative—”

Waving a dismissive hand, cutting him off. Lucifer sighed. “Let’s not start with all that boring drivel, Adam. I’ve got time today. Do you?”

Exhaling quietly through his nose, a faint tick betraying his irritation, but Adam maintained his calm façade. “The contract—”

“Do you really not care about Eden anymore?” Lucifer asked, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

Pausing, Adam’s fingers twitching as they hovered over the document. Slowly, he looked up. “Eden is… irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

Laughing softly, the sound carrying a strange mixture of bitterness and fondness. Lucifer smirked, “Irrelevant? You loved Eden, Adam. I remember how your eyes would light up when you showed me your latest discoveries. Every new flower, every creature, every little thing—it was like seeing the world through your eyes for the first time.”

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, though his grip on the parchment tightened ever so slightly. “If you’re not going to sign the contract, we can—”

“You used to drag me all over that garden,” Lucifer continued, ignoring him entirely. His eyes glimmered with distant memories, glowing red and gold as he stared through Adam like he was looking at a ghost. “You’d get so excited whenever I came to visit. Remember? You’d grab my hand and pull me to show off some ridiculous little plant or how you’d taught a bird to sit on your shoulder.”

Adam’s voice was as flat as stone. “I don’t recall.”

Lucifer grinned faintly, his eyes narrowing with amusement, though there was a flicker of frustration behind them. “Don’t recall? I spent days with you at the beginning—night and day, making sure you didn’t poison yourself or drown yourself.”

He leaned forward, his voice warming. “You were so innocent. So sweet. So… human.”

“I’m still human,” Adam replied coolly, adjusting the golden feathered quill in his hand. “And this is still a waste of time. If you won’t—”

Gaze sharpened, Lucifer’s grin growing wolfish. “I taught you how to care for wings, remember? You surely used my technique on your wings?”

His tone turned teasing. “You couldn’t stop touching mine, asking a million questions. You were obsessed with the way they shimmered in the sun.”

Adam’s golden wings shifted slightly behind him, but his expression remained frozen.

“Sera taught me to care for my wings,” he said curtly. “I don’t remember an angel in Eden. Certainly not one who would let me touch their wings.”

The shift in Lucifer’s demeanour was immediate. His face darkened, his lips twisting into a sour frown. His gaze bore into Adam, intense and almost pleading, but Adam didn’t flinch.

“I was in Eden,” Lucifer snapped, his voice low and sharp. “I was your archangel. Your guardian. How can you pretend I wasn’t there?”

Shrugging, Adam’s tone dismissive. “Because you weren’t?” He said it like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child.

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly as the temperature in the room spiked. His claws tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his throne.

“Then how,” he hissed, his voice dangerously quiet, “Did you get that scar on your thigh?”

Adam’s composure faltered, just for a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked to Lucifer, then down to the table, before settling back on the contract. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Inching forward, Lucifer’s fiery gaze locking onto Adam like a predator cornering its prey.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “You fell down a cliff. Scraped your leg open on a jagged rock. I was the one who healed you.”

His voice rose slightly, tinged with anger. “Do you remember that, Adam? Your first taste of pain?”

Adam’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone neutral. “I don’t remember falling,” he said simply.

Lucifer’s wings flared wider, his patience fraying.

“You cried for hours!” he snapped. “You couldn’t understand what had happened to you, why you were bleeding, why it hurt. I carried you back to the spring and healed you myself.”

His voice softened slightly, almost pleading. “You trusted me, Adam. Do you really not remember?”

Adam finally looked up, his face impassive but his eyes faintly cold.

“I remember plenty,” he said flatly. “But not you.”

Recoiling slightly as if the words had struck him. Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his fiery gaze bore into Adam’s unflinching mask.

For a long moment, the hall was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then Lucifer leaned back in his throne, his expression twisting into something bitter and raw.

“Of course,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you?”

Adam picked up the quill again, his focus returning to the contract. “If you’re done reminiscing, perhaps we can proceed with the matter at hand.”

Lucifer didn’t respond. His wings folded tightly against his back, and he stared at the parchment with a glare that could melt stone.

He didn’t sign it. Again.

~#~

The grand hall was eerily silent when Adam entered, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Lucifer was already there, sprawled across his throne with a confidence that felt exaggerated, almost theatrical. The obsidian table between them bore the familiar contract, but Adam didn’t bother expecting progress. He strode forward, his demeanour calm and professional, placing the golden quill beside the parchment before sitting down.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, his tone flat and businesslike, “the extermination contract. Heaven’s representatives are still awaiting—”

Lucifer cut him off with a gleeful chuckle, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Adam, must you be so boring every time? We have centuries together, yet you insist on skipping the pleasantries.”

Adam blinked slowly, unimpressed. “Pleasantries won’t sign the contract.”

Ignoring the quip, Lucifer’s grin widening like a Cheshire cat’s. “Let’s talk about something more interesting—like Lilith.”

Adam’s expression didn’t flicker, though he adjusted his posture slightly, folding his hands in his lap. Lucifer took the silence as an invitation to continue, his voice practically dripping with smugness.

“You do remember Lilith, don’t you?” Lucifer asked, his grin sharp and mocking. “The first woman? Your first wife?”

Adam tilted his head, a faint crease forming between his brows as though he were searching his memory.

“I remember… another woman,” he said slowly, his tone detached. “But I can’t say what her name was or why she left. If she did leave, though, I suppose it was for the best.”

Freezing, Lucifer’s smirk faltering. “For the best?” he echoed, his voice incredulous.

Adam shrugged. “I don’t even remember her, so she mustn’t have been very important.”

The words struck Lucifer like a slap, and his smugness dissolved into irritation. His wings twitched, his claws tapping against the armrest.

“She was important,” he snapped. “She left because of you. You were cruel to her, dismissive, demanding—don’t you remember what you put her through?”

Adam looked at him evenly, his face an unmoving mask of neutrality. He waited for Lucifer’s rant to burn itself out before cocking his head slightly, as though observing a child mid-tantrum.

“Are you finished?”

Lucifer blinked, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically unsure. He slumped back into his throne, glaring at Adam. “Do you really not feel anything for Lilith?”

Adam shrugged again; his expression unreadable. “Obviously not. I don’t even remember her.” He paused, tilting his head. “You mean the queen, right?”

Lucifer nodded stiffly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then no,” Adam continued smoothly, “I don’t remember meeting the queen before these meetings.”

Lucifer let out a frustrated huff, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—a flicker of desperation, perhaps. He leaned forward again, his voice softening as he pressed on.

“Lilith and I… we spent so much time together in Eden. Sneaking around, giggling, learning, experiencing everything for the first time.” His tone turned smug again, though there was a nervous edge to it. “We had so much fun, Adam. You… must remember that?”

Adam sighed, shifting his weight slightly. “I really don’t care what the king did with his queen. It’s not my concern.”

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly. “Of course it’s your concern! She was your wife!”

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together as though trying to make sense of the words.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” he asked, his tone flat and almost bored. “If what you’re saying is true, then you haven’t been much of a friend.”

Lucifer stiffened, his smug demeanour cracking. “What do you mean?”

Adam rolled his eyes slightly, twirling a finger in the air as if outlining the obvious. “Let’s say, for your sake, that your story is true. You just admitted to me that you—my supposed best friend—went out of your way to teach me betrayal. To show me what it felt like to be cheated on.”

He paused, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. “Imagine. My wife and my best friend.”

Lucifer sat in stunned silence, the words visibly sinking in. His claws dug into his knees, his wings trembling slightly as he stared at Adam with wide eyes.

“That’s… the truth,” he murmured finally, his voice quiet and almost hollow. “I’m a terrible friend.”

Adam’s gaze didn’t waver. “But hey,” he said dryly, “None of that actually happened, so who cares?”

Lucifer’s head snapped up, his golden eyes blazing. “It did happen!” he hissed. “And it should matter!”

Adam shook his head, his expression calm and disinterested.

“Not to me.” He pushed the contract forward again. “Now, about the extermination initiative—”

Lucifer ignored the parchment entirely, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something fragile.

“Did you… really hurt her?” he asked softly. “Like she claims?”

Adam looked at him sharply, his brows raising in faint disbelief.

“You know,” he said slowly, “for someone who claims to be my best friend once, to have known everything about me, you should already know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?”

The words hit Lucifer like a physical blow. He stiffened, his claws digging deeper into his knees, his wings shuddering as the weight of Adam’s words sank in. For a moment, he looked almost small, his fiery arrogance dimming.

Adam waited a beat, then tilted his head, his tone turning brisk and professional again. “Are you ready to focus on the contract now, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his wide eyes fixed on Adam as though searching for something—anything—beneath his impenetrable mask. But Adam simply stared back, calm and unmoved, until Lucifer finally slumped back into his throne, defeated and silent.

He doesn’t sign the contract then either.

~#~

Adam sat across from Sera in Heaven’s towering council chamber, his face calm but his wings faintly drooping with frustration. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, her eyes sharp as they bore into him.

"Adam," Sera began, her voice firm. "Why is this taking so long? The extermination contract should’ve been signed weeks ago."

Adam sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. "The King is being... difficult."

Sera raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

"He keeps wanting to go down memory lane," Adam said, his tone flat. "It’s always something about Eden, or Lilith, or Eve. He’s fixated on the past, and it has nothing to do with the task at hand."

Sera leaned forward, her tone clipped and impatient. "Then give him what he wants. Humour him. Anything to get this over with."

Adam frowned, crossing his arms. "I’m not going to play his games, Sera. This is about Heaven’s decree, not indulging the King of Hell’s nostalgia."

Sera huffed, but didn’t press further. She dismissed him with a wave, muttering something about how things always became messy when the traitor was involved. Adam left the chamber with his shoulders squared, but the weight of her impatience still lingered as he prepared for yet another meeting.

The grand hall was quieter than usual when Adam entered for his next session with Lucifer. The atmosphere felt heavier, and it immediately struck him that Lucifer wasn’t his usual smug self. Instead, the King of Hell sat slumped on his throne, his golden eyes dim, his expression unreadable.

Adam hesitated briefly before walking to the table and unfurling the parchment.

"Your Majesty," he began in his usual calm tone, "I’ve revised the extermination proposal to address—"

Lucifer raised a hand, cutting him off. For a moment, he simply stared at Adam, his cheek resting on his palm, his expression weary. Then he spoke, his voice soft and almost sorrowful.

"Do you know about Eve? About what I did?"

Adam’s pen paused mid-motion, but he didn’t look up.

"It doesn’t matter," he said simply, returning his attention to the parchment. "Let’s focus on the contract."

Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose, sitting up straighter.

"I’m worse than a bad friend," he said bitterly. "I’m a scumbag."

Adam finally looked at him, his brows knitting in faint confusion. "What are you talking about now?"

Lucifer’s claws tapped against the armrest of his throne, his gaze hardening. "The apple…The apple of knowledge. I gave it to Eve. And afterward… I had sex with her."

Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he clicked his tongue. "This means nothing to me. Why are you so keen to tell me these stories?"

"They’re not stories," Lucifer snapped, leaning forward. "They happened. And they should matter to you!"

Adam shrugged helplessly. "They don’t. I only care about the contract."

Lucifer ignored him, his voice growing louder, more desperate. "I lured Eve to the tree. Told her about the world outside Eden. Told her she was Heaven’s puppet. I offered her freedom. I offered her the apple, and she was so eager to take it. And after—"

"Your Majesty," Adam interrupted, his wings shifting as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Please. Can we just get back to—"

Lucifer slammed his fist on the armrest, his voice trembling. "I betrayed you, Adam. I betrayed you in every way possible."

He rubbed his face, his claws dragging over his skin. His voice cracked as he went on. "I didn’t just betray you with Eve. I betrayed you with Lilith, too. I helped her cheat on you—with me. Your best friend. Your guardian angel."

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, but his chest tightened painfully at the words. He kept his face blank, refusing to let any emotion show.

Lucifer laughed bitterly, his hands trembling as he looked down at them. "I should’ve known it was all lies. The moment Lilith told me you were hurting her, bossing her around—I should’ve known. You wouldn’t even know how to do that. You were pure, untouched by sin. There were no sins in Eden."

He looked up at Adam, his golden eyes glassy. "And I failed you. I failed as your friend, as your guardian angel. I believed her lies because of my own pride. I didn’t question her. I didn’t think. I just… gave in."

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with shame. "I stained you with Lilith. I stained you with Eve. I stained everything I touched. I’m a terrible friend, Adam. A terrible guardian. And I’m so sorry."

Adam’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to remain still. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but he wouldn’t allow himself to break. He cleared his throat softly and said, "If I accept your apology, will you be serious?"

Frowning, Lucifer’s wings shifting uneasily. "I am being serious."

Shaking his head, Adam gestured to the parchment between them. "Then sign the contract."

Lucifer’s expression darkened, his sharp teeth bared as he hissed, "Is the contract all you care about?"

"Obviously." Adam snorted softly.

Lucifer let out a growl, his claws digging into the table. "I’ve had enough of this game, Adam! I get it, okay? I’m a shitty angel. A shitty friend. Just… shitty in general. But come on!"

His voice cracked, and his wings drooped. "Enough’s enough!"

Adam didn’t react to Lucifer’s outburst, his face calm and dull. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the storm to pass.

Once Lucifer’s anger burned itself out, he slumped in his throne, staring at Adam with wide, almost pleading eyes. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Finally, Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, quiet and trembling.

"Do you seriously not care about anything?"

Adam looked at him steadily. "I care about one thing."

Lucifer’s face fell, his shoulders slumping further.

"It’s not the contract," he muttered bitterly. "You don’t care about the contract."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, then?"

Lucifer’s golden eyes glistened as he stared at Adam, his voice breaking. "I want you, Adam. I want my Adam back."

Adam rolled his eyes, his tone flat. "You are acting childish."

Lucifer shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know I’ve fucked up. I know I have a lot to make up for. But please… please, Adam, stop this game. It’s killing me."

Adam said nothing, only pushing the contract forward again. Lucifer stared at him for a long moment before golden flames erupted around him, and he disappeared without another word.

Adam sat alone in the grand hall, his chest tight, his wings heavy. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then, with a shake of his head, he rose and left the room.

Adam barely made it to the quiet sanctuary of his chamber before the dam broke. As soon as the heavy door shut behind him, sealing him off from the endless corridors of Heaven and the prying eyes of the angels, he crumpled to his knees. His wings drooped low, their golden feathers dragging against the pristine floor.

The first sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. It was raw, ugly, and filled with years of pain he thought he’d buried deep enough to forget. But Lucifer’s words from their meeting echoed endlessly in his mind.

"I failed you."

"I betrayed you."

"I stained everything I touched."

Adam clutched at his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robes as though trying to dig out the ache that burned there. It hurt—a deep, soul-crushing hurt that he couldn’t suppress anymore.

Lucifer’s confessions had ripped open old wounds Adam hadn’t even realized were still there. He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel anything for the King of Hell. But hearing Lucifer lay himself bare like that—seeing the raw guilt and sorrow in his golden eyes—it was unbearable.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden and sharp. He remembered Lilith’s laughter, her soft voice, the way she used to press her hand to his chest as though she could feel his heartbeat. He remembered the warmth of Lucifer’s wings as they shielded him from Eden’s rains, the way the archangel had always been there to steady him when he stumbled.

And then, he remembered the betrayals. Lilith’s coldness as she left him for Lucifer. Lucifer’s smug grin the first time he had bragged about it. Eve’s wide, curious eyes as she stepped closer to the forbidden tree, her hand reaching for the apple.

Adam’s sobs grew louder, shaking his entire body. His wings twitched and trembled, the golden feathers ruffling as though they shared his pain. It wasn’t just the betrayals that hurt. It was the weight of it all. The weight of knowing he was supposed to be the first, the purest, the perfect creation. And yet, all he’d ever was a pawn in someone else’s games.

His fists slammed against the floor, the impact sending dull echoes through the room.

"Why?" he choked out, his voice thick with tears. "Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?"

He hated Lucifer in that moment. Hated him for dredging up the past, for forcing Adam to remember things he didn’t want to remember. But more than that, he hated himself for still caring.

“Why couldn’t you have just gone alone with the game?”

The tears wouldn’t stop. They poured down his face, soaking the floor beneath him as his sobs wracked his body. He felt raw, exposed, as though every part of him had been torn open and left to bleed.

How much longer could he take this? How many more meetings could he endure before he shattered completely?

He pressed his forehead to the cool floor, his wings splayed out around him in a mess of gold and white.

"It’s too much," he whispered brokenly. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore."

But he had to.

Sera was counting on him. Heaven was counting on him. And no matter how much it hurt—no matter how much Lucifer’s words ripped him apart—Adam couldn’t let them see him falter.

After what felt like hours, his sobs began to quiet, though the ache in his chest remained. He wiped at his face with shaking hands, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to compose himself.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. His wings twitched, and he forced them to fold neatly behind his back, though the effort made his muscles ache.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room. His eyes were red, his face pale, and his hair dishevelled. He looked like a man on the brink of breaking.

But he couldn’t break. Not yet.

Straightening his robes, Adam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He wiped the lingering tears from his face, forcing his expression back into the calm, stoic mask he’d worn for so long.

The pain was still there, sharp and suffocating, but he shoved it down. He had a job to do.

His pain could wait.

~#~

The moment Adam stepped into the throne room, he knew something was…off. Lucifer was sprawled sideways across his throne, one leg dangling over the armrest, and a half-empty bottle clutched loosely in his hand. His grin was wide and childlike, eyes half-lidded and gleaming with a mischievous light.

"Adam!" Lucifer exclaimed, his voice slurring slightly as he waved the bottle in greeting. "It's been forever!"

Adam stopped in his tracks, his wings twitching behind him.

"It’s been three days," he said, frowning.

Lucifer cackled, the sound rich and full, echoing in the cavernous space. "Forever!" he insisted, dragging out the word as he swung his legs around to sit upright—barely. He swayed dangerously and only just caught himself on the arm of the throne.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. "Are you… drunk?"

Lucifer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest like Adam had just stabbed him. "Me? Drunk? How dare you insinuate such a thing, Adam!"

He tried to look offended but immediately broke into a wide grin. "Okay, maybe just a little."

He held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

Adam stared at him, baffled. He’d never seen anyone drunk before, let alone Lucifer in such a state. Heaven didn’t have alcohol—there was no reason for it. And yet, here was the King of Hell, giggling like a child and swinging a bottle of what smelled suspiciously like something sweet and fermented.

"Your majesty," Adam began cautiously, "We have business to discuss. This contract—"

"Business, business, business!" Lucifer interrupted, waving his hand dramatically as if to physically push Adam’s words away. He sat up straighter—or tried to—and pointed at Adam with the neck of the bottle. "You’ve got to read it to me! I wanna hear your angel voice say all those long, boring words. It’s so cute!"

Adam blinked. "You want me to read—?"

"Yes! Read it! Read it!" Lucifer chanted, giggling uncontrollably.

Sighing, Adam unrolled the parchment and began to read aloud, his voice even and measured. But every time he said something particularly formal or legal-sounding, Lucifer erupted into giggles, his hand covering his mouth like a mischievous child.

"Clause thirty-two subsection B states—"

"Pfft! Subsection!" Lucifer wheezed, doubling over and nearly toppling off his throne.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience fraying.

"You’re drunk," he said flatly.

Lucifer gasped again, this time more dramatically than before.

"I am not!" he declared, though his lopsided grin and glassy eyes betrayed him. He leaned forward, his face inches from Adam’s.

"Okay, maybe I am. Just a little," he admitted, his grin turning sheepish. "But that’s only because it makes me feel better."

Adam’s brows furrowed. "Feel better about what?"

Lucifer didn’t answer. Instead, he reached behind his throne and, with a flourish, produced another bottle. He held it out to Adam. "Here. You should try it!"

Adam raised an eyebrow and pushed the bottle away. "No, thank you."

Lucifer huffed, setting the bottle aside and slumping forward onto the table between them. He rested his chin in his hands, staring up at Adam with a dreamy smile.

"You’re so serious all the time now," he said, his voice softer but still tinged with that drunken lilt. "It’s not fair."

Adam crossed his arms. "What’s not fair?"

Lucifer sat up suddenly, pointing at him with a pout. "Before, we used to snuggle! Under the sun, under the moon! You used to play with my wings and my hair! You loved my hair!"

Adam froze, his wings twitching nervously.

"That… never happened," he said stiffly.

"It did!" Lucifer insisted, his voice rising in pitch as he nearly climbed onto the table. "You’d brush my feathers and laugh at my stupid jokes and—oh!"

His attention shifted abruptly to Adam’s golden wings, his eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.

Before Adam could react, Lucifer was reaching out, his fingers tangling gently in the soft, shimmering feathers.

"Your wings," Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with awe. He ran his fingers through them, his touch light and teasing. "So beautiful. Are they as sensitive as mine?"

Adam jerked away, his wings folding tightly against his back.

"Your majesty," he said warningly.

But Lucifer only pouted, ducking under Adam’s arm and pushing himself into his lap. Adam stiffened, completely frozen as Lucifer wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"You don’t love me anymore," Lucifer mumbled, his voice muffled against Adam’s chest.

Adam blinked, utterly at a loss.

"Your breath stinks," he said flatly, his tone the only defence he had against the absurdity of the situation.

Lucifer pulled back just enough to grin up at him, his face far too close.

"You used to like my hugs," he said, his tone playful but tinged with sadness.

Adam opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut when Lucifer began to purr—a soft, rumbling sound that was entirely unexpected. Adam stared down at him, his mind racing for a way to handle the drunk, overly affectionate King of Hell currently snuggled against him.

Lucifer’s grin widened as he nuzzled closer, his purring growing louder.

"Missed this," he murmured, his voice thick with drunken sincerity.

Adam sighed deeply, his wings twitching with barely restrained frustration. "Your Majesty, you’re drunk. And ridiculous."

"And adorable," Lucifer added, giggling.

Adam didn’t respond, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out how to extract himself from the situation. But as Lucifer’s purring softened and his grip around Adam loosened, Adam realized the King had fallen asleep.

For a moment, Adam just sat there, staring down at Lucifer’s peaceful face. His heart ached, but he shoved the feeling aside.

"Ridiculous," he muttered again, carefully shifting Lucifer off his lap and onto the table. Lucifer barely stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before snuggling into the smooth surface.

Adam stood, straightening his robes and wings with a sigh. This was going to be a long negotiation.

Clearly, Lucifer did not sign the fucking contract that day either.

~#~

The tension in the air was thick as Adam entered the meeting room, his steps slow and deliberate. His golden wings drooped slightly, betraying his exhaustion. He had endured over a year of these tiresome meetings with Lucifer, each one feeling more like a test of his patience than a genuine negotiation. The King of Hell refused to take anything seriously, flitting between drunken antics and cryptic ramblings. Adam’s patience was wearing thin, and Sera’s growing frustration with him only added to his burden.

This time, however, as Adam stepped into the room, the sight that greeted him was unexpectedly… mundane.

Lucifer sat at the table, two steaming cups of tea before him, his demeanour oddly calm. His piercing eyes lit up when he spotted Adam, and he gestured grandly to the tea.

"Adam!" Lucifer chirped. "Perfect timing. I’ve prepared tea!"

Adam froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the setup.

"Tea?" he repeated, his voice flat.

"Green tea, to be specific," Lucifer said cheerfully, lifting his own cup and inhaling the fragrant steam with exaggerated delight.

Adam stared at him, his exhaustion mingling with disbelief. "Are you drunk again?"

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest as though Adam had insulted his very existence.

"Drunk? Me? No, no, no! I’m as sober as a judge," he declared, then winked. "Well, maybe not one of Hell’s judges, but you get the idea. It’s tea, Adam. Harmless, non-poisoned, entirely respectable tea."

Adam’s sceptical gaze shifted to the cups. "Non-poisoned," he echoed.

Lucifer leaned forward, grinning like a cat. "One little tea with me isn’t going to hurt anyone, angel."

Adam sighed, the weight of the past year pressing down on him. Against his better judgment, he sat down and picked up the tea. He took a cautious sip, and though he refused to acknowledge it aloud, the tea was… surprisingly good.

Lucifer beamed, watching Adam drink as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "See? No explosions, no hexes, no sneaky curses. Just good tea and good company."

Adam set the cup down with a soft clink and straightened his posture.

"Enough distractions," he said, his tone firm. "Let’s discuss the contract."

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and cradling his tea.

"Actually," he said, interrupting Adam before he could dive into the terms, "I want to add something."

Adam blinked, his wings twitching.

"You want to add something?" he repeated, his disbelief evident.

Lucifer nodded, his smile warm and genuine, catching Adam off guard. "Yep. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now."

For a moment, Adam was at a loss for words. In over a year of meetings, Lucifer had never once shown interest in altering or even acknowledging the contract’s terms. His sudden change of heart was… unexpected.

"Like what?" Adam asked, his tone cautious.

Lucifer took a leisurely sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Adam. The intensity of his gaze made Adam grunt softly and take another sip of his own tea, as if the act might shield him from the King’s scrutiny.

This seemed to please Lucifer, who chuckled softly before finally answering. "I want to add a clause that states Heaven isn’t allowed to touch the Hellborns during the Extermination."

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together. "The Hellborns?"

Lucifer nodded, his expression unusually serious. "They have no part in this war between Heaven and Hell. They’re innocents, Adam. This mess between us is our fault, not theirs."

Adam stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the sly smirk, or the teasing remark that would reveal Lucifer’s true intent. But none came. The King of Hell seemed completely sincere.

After a moment, Adam nodded slowly. "I’ll run it past Sera…But I can’t imagine her rejecting the condition."

Lucifer’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, his cheerfulness returning in full force.

As Adam made a note of the amendment, Lucifer leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Adam with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know," Lucifer began, his tone light and teasing, "This tea really suits you. The golden glow of your wings, the calm, regal way you sip it… you’re practically a painting come to life."

Adam glanced at him, unimpressed.

"You’re being ridiculous," he said, returning his focus to the parchment.

Lucifer grinned. "Am I? Or am I just appreciating the finer things in life?"

Adam didn’t respond, his attention firmly on the contract.

Undeterred, Lucifer continued, his voice softening. "You know, back in Eden, I always thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot, Adam, I’d truly like to have a closer look someday.”

The words went straight over Adam’s head, as they always did, and he simply hummed in acknowledgment without looking up.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew Adam wouldn’t catch on immediately, but the anticipation of Adam eventually realizing the meaning behind his words was a delight in itself.

"One day, you’ll figure it out," Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea with a contented sigh.

For now, he was happy to play the long game.

~#~

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm shadows on the ornate table set with a spread of fruits, bread, and cheeses. It was absurd, and Adam knew it. Meetings with Lucifer had become increasingly ridiculous, but this one took the prize. Candles? Food? Was this some kind of prank?

Lucifer sat across from Adam, lounging with a lazy grin on his face, looking far too pleased with himself. He reached for a grape, popping it into his mouth as his crimson eyes glimmered with mischief.

"Are we really doing this?" Adam muttered, his golden wings shifting as he glanced at the table in exasperation.

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Why not? You’re always so stiff, Adam. Meetings don’t have to be boring. Relax for once."

Adam frowned, the corner of his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep his composure. "I’m here for business, not… whatever this is."

Lucifer sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "You wound me. I go through all this trouble, and you call it whatever this is?"

He gestured at the table, his fingers trailing dramatically through the candlelight.

Adam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Lucifer cut him off.

"Wait, wait," the King said, his grin widening. "I have an idea. Let’s play a game."

"A game?" Adam echoed, sceptical.

"Twenty questions!" Lucifer declared, clapping his hands together. "I ask a question, then you, and so on. Simple, harmless, and you might even have fun."

Adam’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Or, we could finish the contract."

Lucifer whined, reaching across the table to grab Adam’s hand. His touch was warm, his claws tracing light circles over Adam’s skin.

"Please," he whispered, his voice soft and pleading.

Adam’s frown deepened, his golden eyes narrowing at the King’s unrelenting smile. Despite himself, he sighed deeply and sank back into his chair.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only to get this over with."

Lucifer purred, his grin so wide it almost looked innocent.

"Wonderful!" He leaned forward, practically buzzing with excitement. "I’ll start. What’s your favourite colour?"

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. After a moment, he muttered, "Blue."

Lucifer’s smile softened. "I thought so," he murmured. "It suits you."

Adam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your turn, then. What’s your favourite colour?"

Lucifer laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Green," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," Adam said, blinking.

The game continued, the questions starting out sweet and innocent. Lucifer asked Adam about his favourite flowers (he didn’t have one, he loved them all) and favourite food (he didn’t really eat). Adam, in turn, simply repeated Lucifer’s questions back to him, unsure of how else to participate.

Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed delighted by Adam’s awkwardness, his grin never faltering.

But then, the questions shifted.

"Have you been in a relationship since Eve?" Lucifer asked, his tone light, but his eyes watching Adam closely.

Adam frowned slightly, the question catching him off guard.

"No," he said honestly. "I haven’t been in a relationship ever."

Lucifer tilted his head, a soft, almost sad sound escaping his lips.

Adam, feeling obligated, asked, "Have you been in a relationship since the Queen left?"

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his grin turning sly.

"Nope," he said, popping the "p" for emphasis. "I don’t want any repeats."

Adam blinked, confused. "Repeats?" he asked.

Lucifer shifted closer, his fingers tracing faint lines over Adam’s arm, the touch sending an odd shiver through the angel’s body. His voice dropped into a low, teasing tone.

"I’m only interested in one of a kind," he said, his eyes locking onto Adam’s, “The first, you could say.”

Adam leaned away, his frown deepening. "You’re the weirdest king ever," he said flatly.

Lucifer laughed, his grin nothing short of radiant. "Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the flickering candlelight dancing between them. Then, Lucifer’s expression softened, his gaze turning almost wistful.

"You know, Adam," he said quietly, "it’s been almost two years. And you still won’t call me by my name."

Adam frowned, confused. "You’re the King of Hell. Why would I—"

Lucifer pouted, the expression oddly endearing.

"I miss the way you used to say my name," he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Adam shook his head, unsure how to respond. He felt an odd tightness in his chest, but he quickly shoved the feeling aside.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, reaching for his tea again.

Lucifer only smiled, his gaze lingering on Adam as though he were the only thing in the room that mattered.

“Let’s eat Adam, I made ribs for you~”

“I don’t eat meat,” Adam grunted.

Lucifer paused in thought. He didn’t know that. It made sense.

So, Adam’s a vegetarian?

~#~

The next meeting caught Adam off guard the moment he stepped into the chamber. The table was spread with an elaborate feast, a stunning array of vegetarian dishes carefully plated like works of art. Brightly coloured fruits shimmered like jewels, crisp salads were adorned with edible flowers, and warm loaves of bread sat beside steaming bowls of soup. The centrepiece was a towering platter of roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned and garnished with herbs.

Adam stopped in his tracks, his golden wings twitching slightly as he stared at the display. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he turned his gaze to Lucifer, who stood nearby, beaming like a proud artist unveiling his masterpiece.

"As a vegetarian," Lucifer announced with a flourish, "I’ve prepared the best for you~"

His crimson eyes twinkled with mischief, and his voice was thick with pride.

Adam tilted his head, staring at Lucifer as if trying to decipher some grand puzzle.

"You’re a vegetarian?" he asked slowly.

Lucifer chuckled, shrugging with mock modesty. "Of course! I couldn’t possibly harm a single creature. It would ruin my delicate charm." He winked.

Adam didn’t even try to hide his scepticism. "I’m beginning to see these meetings are becoming... weird," he muttered, folding his arms.

Lucifer snickered, crossing the room to stand beside Adam. "Weird?”

“Weird in what way?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a softness in his gaze.

Adam didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the food, his stomach betraying him with a low growl. It did look good. More than good. The spread reminded him of the vibrant, abundant meals he and Eve used to share in Eden before… before everything fell apart.

Lucifer, ever perceptive, leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful purr. "Please, Addie~" The nickname rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, it made Adam’s wings twitch. "Please try my cooking! I’m sure you’ll like it. And I’ve made some beautiful pancakes for dessert."

He gestured dramatically toward the corner of the table, where a stack of golden-brown pancakes rested, dripping with syrup and adorned with fresh berries.

Adam sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First of all, stop calling me that," he grumbled. But when he glanced up at Lucifer, the King’s wide, hopeful grin made it hard to hold onto his irritation.

Lucifer clasped his hands together, swaying slightly. "But it suits you so well! Addie sounds so sweet, just like you~"

Adam rolled his eyes, his face heating slightly despite himself.

"Second," he said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track, "We’re supposed to be discussing the contract, not… indulging in whatever this is."

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Business can wait. You look like you haven’t eaten in centuries. Come on, Adam. Just a bite?"

He stepped closer, grabbing a plate and holding it out like an offering. His grin softened into something gentler, almost pleading. "For me?"

Adam hesitated, his golden eyes narrowing. But the aroma wafting from the table was too tempting, and his stomach protested loudly again. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he grabbed the plate from Lucifer’s hands.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only because you won’t shut up about it."

Lucifer’s entire face lit up as he watched Adam sit down and reach for the nearest dish. The angel piled his plate with roasted vegetables and fruit, poking at the food with his fork as if expecting a trap. Lucifer sat across from him, chin resting on his hands, watching with an almost childlike anticipation.

Adam raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stare at me the entire time?"

Lucifer smirked, not even trying to deny it. "Maybe. You’re adorable when you’re flustered."

Adam ignored him, taking a bite of the roasted vegetables. The flavours hit his tongue like a revelation—perfectly balanced, rich yet light, with just the right amount of seasoning. He blinked, caught off guard by how good it tasted.

Lucifer’s grin widened. "Well? What do you think?"

Adam chewed slowly, swallowing before muttering, "It’s… fine."

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Fine? Just fine? That’s the best you can do?"

"It’s food," Adam said flatly, though he couldn’t hide the slight twitch of his lips. He reached for more vegetables, trying to focus on his plate and not on the way Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with delight.

As the meal continued, Lucifer chatted away, his voice light and teasing. He asked Adam about his favourite foods, about his memories of Eden, about anything that came to mind. Adam, still wary, answered in clipped sentences, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind.

When they reached dessert, Lucifer slid the plate of pancakes toward Adam with a flourish.

"And now," he declared, "the pièce de résistance."

Adam eyed the pancakes warily before cutting into them with his fork. He took a small bite, and his eyes widened slightly. They were… perfect. Fluffy, sweet, and melt-in-your-mouth good.

Lucifer leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Adam.

"You like them," he said softly, his tone more serious now.

Adam paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He looked at Lucifer, who was gazing at him with an intensity that made his chest tighten. "They’re… good," he admitted.

Lucifer’s smile softened, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I’m glad," he said quietly.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Adam shifted uncomfortably, his golden wings twitching as he focused on his plate.

"Next time, I’ll make something even better. Maybe I’ll teach you how to cook!" Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, light and teasing again

Adam groaned, shaking his head. "There isn’t going to be a next time."

Lucifer just laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We’ll see, Addie. We’ll see."

Later, Adam stood in the grand chamber of Heaven’s council, his golden wings folded tightly against his back as he faced Sera, whose cold, steely gaze seemed to pierce through him. The light of Heaven filtered in through the crystalline windows, casting shimmering reflections across the marble floors, but the warmth of it was lost on Adam. Sera’s displeasure was tangible, and the weight of it pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“It has been three years, Adam,” Sera said, her voice sharp and unyielding. She stood behind a towering desk, her silver wings spread wide, a sign of both her authority and her frustration. “Three years, and we have seen no progress on this matter.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably; his hands clasped in front of him as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Sera,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with weariness, “Lucifer is being… unreasonable. Every meeting is—”

Sera cut him off with a raised hand, her icy glare silencing him instantly. “Do not make excuses, Adam. It is your duty to secure his agreement. You were chosen for this task because of your… connection to him.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “That connection doesn’t exist anymore,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then rebuild it,” Sera snapped, her tone cutting through the air like a blade. She stepped around the desk, her robes billowing as she moved closer to him. “You are an angel of Heaven, Adam. You were created for a purpose, and you will fulfil it. That traitor’s antics are no excuse for your failure. He may be the King of Hell, but he is not above persuasion. You simply aren’t trying hard enough.”

Adam’s wings twitched, and he glanced away, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but firm. “He’s not just being difficult—he’s acting… strange. These meetings aren’t about the contract to him. He doesn’t take it seriously. He cooks meals, he laughs and talks with me, he—”

“Flirts?” Sera’s eyebrow arched, her tone laced with disbelief and disapproval.

Adam felt his face heat slightly, and he cleared his throat. “That’s not the point. The point is, he’s using these meetings to… distract me. To toy with me. He’s not acting like a king or a ruler—he’s acting…”

“Like the Angel you once knew?” Sera interjected, her voice quieter now but no less pointed.

Adam froze, his golden eyes snapping to hers.

Sera’s gaze softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Whatever game that traitor is playing, it is your responsibility to rise above it. He is trying to delay, to manipulate you. You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by his charm or his tricks.”

“I’m not,” Adam said quickly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

Sera sighed deeply, turning away from him and gazing out the window at the endless expanse of Heaven. “This contract is not just a document, Adam. It is a pact that will shape the balance between Heaven and Hell for eternity. Every moment you delay, more souls are lost. Do you understand the gravity of this task?”

Adam lowered his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“Then act like it,” Sera said sharply, turning back to him. “You cannot let your history with the traitor cloud your judgment. If he won’t cooperate, find a way to make him. Do whatever it takes to secure his signature, or I will find someone who can.”

The threat hung heavily in the air, and Adam’s heart sank. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to explain that Lucifer wasn’t just being stubborn—he was being Lucifer, the infuriating, unpredictable being who had once been his friend. But Sera wouldn’t care about that. All she cared about was the contract.

“Yes, Sera,” Adam said finally, his voice flat.

Sera studied him for a long moment before nodding curtly. “You are dismissed.”

Adam bowed slightly, turning on his heel and leaving the chamber. As he walked down the golden corridors, his mind churned with frustration and exhaustion. He had tried everything to get Lucifer to take the contract seriously, but the King of Hell was impossible to pin down. And now, with Sera breathing down his neck, the pressure was unbearable.

When he finally reached the quiet solitude of his own chamber, Adam sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Lucifer was breaking him in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and now Sera’s expectations were threatening to crush what little resolve he had left.

For the first time in centuries, Adam felt truly lost.

The silence pressing in on him as Sera’s words replayed in his mind. His wings drooped, and his golden eyes stared blankly at the polished table in front of him. The phrase “He is flirting with you” hit him like a thunderclap, louder with each repetition in his head.

Lucifer. Flirting.

“What?” Adam said aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the room.

He frowned, sitting up straighter as if the realization itself had physically jolted him. His mind began rifling through the past few years of meetings, replaying Lucifer’s behaviour, his words, the touches, the ridiculous closeness…

Adam’s heart sank.

“No…” he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the thought. “He wasn’t… he couldn’t have been…”

But the memories refused to be ignored.

Lucifer leaning across the table, his sharp grin teasing and playful. “Addie~ You’re so serious all the time! Relax a little—this is our meeting, isn’t it?”

Lucifer tracing his claws over Adam’s arm, the sly purr in his voice as he murmured, “Only interested in one of a kind…”

Lucifer cooking extravagant meals, beaming as Adam reluctantly tried them, his eyes sparkling like he’d won some kind of game.

Lucifer crawling onto his lap during that drunken meeting, clinging to him with a pout and whispering, “Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Adam’s wings twitched, feathers ruffling uncomfortably as the memories piled up. Each one felt like another punch to the gut. He had been so focused on getting the contract signed, so focused on enduring Lucifer’s antics without letting them get to him, that he had completely overlooked… that.

Lucifer had been flirting.

Adam felt heat rise to his cheeks, his jaw clenching as a mix of emotions churned inside him. Confusion, disbelief, and a faint undercurrent of horror all warred for dominance. He buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms. “Why is he doing this? What kind of game is this?”

He sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of it all. Lucifer was the King of Hell, the former Morning Star, the fallen archangel. And yet… he had spent the last three years acting like—like—Adam groaned again, this time louder.

“He’s messing with me,” Adam concluded, his voice firm despite the uncertainty swirling in his chest. “That’s what this is. He’s trying to distract me, trying to throw me off so I can’t finish the contract. Typical Lucifer. It has to be that.”

But even as he said it, the memory of Lucifer’s soft smiles, his gentle touches, and the way he had looked at Adam—like Adam was the only thing in the room that mattered—gnawed at the edges of his reasoning.

“No,” Adam said firmly, standing up and pacing the room. His wings fluttered slightly as his frustration grew. “It’s manipulation. That’s all it is. He doesn’t mean any of it. He’s just trying to get under my skin.”

The idea of Lucifer genuinely… liking him in that way felt impossible. It was absurd. It was—

Adam stopped pacing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt completely overwhelmed. Why now? Why after everything? Why would Lucifer even—

“Ugh,” Adam groaned, flopping back into the chair with his head tilted toward the ceiling. “This is ridiculous.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to focus. Sera was right about one thing—he had a duty to fulfil. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Lucifer’s games, no matter how confusing or disarming they were.

And yet, as much as Adam tried to push the thought away, the lingering question gnawed at the back of his mind.

What if Lucifer wasn’t playing a game?

~#~

Adam stormed into the meeting room, his golden wings spread wide, their shimmering feathers casting an almost blinding glow across the dark marble floors of the hall. His eyes were sharp, jaw tight, and his steps echoed with determination. Lucifer, of course, was already lounging at the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile as he rested his chin on his hand.

“Addie! You’re so tense again,” Lucifer greeted, his voice lilting and sweet like honey. The tiny crown perched on his head caught the candlelight as he waved toward the spread he’d prepared—a small table with tea, pastries, and some fresh-cut flowers.

Adam didn’t falter. “Enough games, your Majesty. Sign the contract.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint that Adam had come to both dread and anticipate.

“You’ve come to see me after all these weeks, and this is how you greet me? No hello? No ‘how are you, Lucifer?’” He sat up, folding his hands under his chin as his tail curled lazily around the chair’s leg.

“I don’t have time for this,” Adam snapped, pulling out the rolled parchment and slamming it onto the table. His frustration poured out in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his voice. “Three years. Three years of these meetings, and you still haven’t signed it.”

Lucifer tilted his head, a faux pout playing on his lips.

“Three years, indeed,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost wistful. “Imagine how much time we’ve spent together, Addie. Doesn’t it make you wonder?”

“Stop calling me that,” Adam growled.

Lucifer ignored him, leaning forward with a playful grin. “It’s sweet, don’t you think? All this time you could have sent anyone else, but you didn’t. You kept coming back to me. Why is that, hmm?”

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the way Lucifer’s voice dipped into something almost intimate. His sharp response caught in his throat, and he quickly shook his head, scowling as he tried to refocus.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Adam barked, glaring down at Lucifer. “Sign the contract. Now.”

But Lucifer only chuckled, low and warm.

“Distract you?” he echoed, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “Darling, if I’m distracting you, that’s entirely your problem, isn’t it?”

Adam opened his mouth to retort, but his mind snagged on that word—darling. His wings bristled slightly, and for the first time, his voice faltered.

“Y-you—don’t call me that,” he managed, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

Lucifer froze for a second before breaking into a delighted laugh, the sound rich and melodic as he clapped his hands together.

“Oh, Addie,” he purred, practically glowing with glee. “Was that… did you just stutter?”

His crimson eyes gleamed, and his tail flicked behind him with excitement. “You did! You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“I—what?!” Adam’s face flushed, and he instinctively stepped back, his wings twitching as he tried to compose himself. “I am not—this is absurd—sign the damn contract!”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, beaming at Adam like he’d just won a prize.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” he mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I’ve been waiting years to see you crack just a little. And now? Oh, Addie, I’ve barely even started.”

Adam clenched his jaw, glaring at Lucifer with a heat that should have been enough to make him stop, but the King of Hell was unbothered, basking in Adam’s attention like it was the sun.

Lucifer reached out, gently tugging at the edge of Adam’s golden sleeve with his clawed fingers.

“You really are magnificent when you’re angry,” he murmured, his tone dipping lower, warmer, enough to make Adam’s chest tighten. “Do you know that? The glow of your wings, the fire in your eyes—it’s breathtaking.”

Adam swatted Lucifer’s hand away, stepping back as he struggled to steady his breathing. “That’s enough!” he barked, though his voice cracked slightly at the end.

Lucifer grinned wider, leaning forward again, his head propped on his hands.

“Tell me, Addie,” he began, his tone dripping with playful curiosity, “When was the last time someone complimented you like that? Or touched you? Or…”

He trailed off, his grin turning sly as he let the words hang between them.

Adam’s face burned, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. His mouth opened, but no words came out—just an unintelligible sound of frustration as his wings flared out behind him.

Lucifer’s laughter filled the room again, but this time it was softer, more indulgent. He rested his chin on his palm, looking at Adam with a gaze that was almost fond.

“You’re precious, Addie,” he said softly, his smile turning gentle.

Adam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back to Lucifer, needing a moment to breathe. His heart was racing, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

“Sign. The. Contract,” Adam said through gritted teeth, his back still to Lucifer.

Lucifer didn’t respond right away, and when Adam glanced over his shoulder, he found the King of Hell watching him intently, his expression unreadable for once.

“Maybe,” Lucifer said finally, his voice quiet but firm, “But only if you promise me one thing, Addie.”

Adam frowned, narrowing his eyes. “What now?”

Lucifer smiled, a softer, more vulnerable one than Adam had seen in a long time. “Promise me you’ll stop pretending you hate being here.”

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat as the words sank in. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the silence settling heavily between them.

Then, as always, Lucifer broke it with a playful grin and a wink.

“After all,” he added lightly, “You wouldn’t keep coming back if you really hated me, would you?”

Adam’s face burned again, and he turned away, muttering under his breath as he tried desperately to refocus on the contract. But Lucifer’s words lingered, far longer than Adam wanted them to.

“I keep coming back because I have to!” Adam snapped, his voice sharp and laced with frustration.

Lucifer, lounging lazily in his chair, only grinned, his devilish tail swaying behind him like a satisfied cat. The glow of the candlelight danced in his ruby and gold-flecked eyes as he leaned forward slightly, his chin resting in his palm.

“Come now, Addie,” he purred, his voice dripping with teasing sweetness, “we both know that if you really didn’t want to come here, you wouldn’t.”

Adam’s golden eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “I don’t have a choice. Sera says—”

Lucifer interrupted him with a soft laugh, the sound smooth and amused. “Oh, please.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his long claws catching the light. “You and I both know that if you really put your foot down, even dear Sera couldn’t force you into this room. Admit it.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, his posture infuriatingly relaxed. “You like coming here. You like spending time with little old me.”

Adam stiffened, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t respond, refusing to dignify Lucifer’s claim with a rebuttal.

Lucifer took full advantage of the silence, his grin softening into something almost tender.

“And, if I’m being honest…” He stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between them.

“I keep coming back too, Addie.” His voice dropped into a low, velvety murmur. “Because I like spending time with you.”

Lucifer’s hand brushed lightly against Adam’s arm, his claws grazing just enough to send a shiver up the angel’s spine. He slid his palm upward, his fingers tracing a deliberate path before settling gently against Adam’s cheek.

“It reminds me of Eden,” he whispered, his voice warm and nostalgic. “When it was just you and me, under the sun, without the weight of Heaven and Hell between us.”

Adam stared at him, frozen in place, his heart pounding.

“I—I don’t remember that,” he managed weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer let out a soft snort, his smile turning mischievous.

“Now, now,” he said, his voice a playful hum. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—” Adam started to protest, his tone sharper this time, but before he could finish, Lucifer silenced him in a way that stole his breath.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Adam’s. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but quickly grew firmer, more sure of itself. Lucifer’s lips moved with practiced ease, coaxing a response, though Adam remained stiff, his mind spinning. The warmth of the kiss, the weight of it, felt impossibly familiar, like a memory long buried yet suddenly unearthed.

For a fleeting moment, it was perfect.

But then, just as Lucifer began to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and brushing his claws softly against Adam’s jawline, Adam snapped back to reality. With a sharp shove, he pushed Lucifer away, his movements quick and forceful.

Lucifer stumbled, letting out a startled yelp as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. His wings flared slightly behind him, his golden and ruby eyes wide with shock as he looked up at Adam. “Adam—” he began, his voice soft, almost pleading.

But Adam was already turning away, his golden wings twitching with barely contained energy as he bolted for the door.

Lucifer remained frozen in place, staring after him as the sound of Adam’s footsteps faded into the distance. The door swung shut with a heavy thud, and the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, the tension draining from his body as he lowered himself slowly back into his chair. His fingers drifted to his lips, tracing over the place where Adam’s had been moments before. The warmth lingered, but it wasn’t enough to mask the sting of rejection.

His heart, the thing he thought he’d buried deep and locked away, thudded anxiously in his chest. His claws curled into his palm as he stared at the door, half-expecting Adam to come back, to burst in with an apology, to say something—anything.

But the door didn’t open.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the ache in his chest. After a moment, he stood, his movements slower, less confident than usual. A swirl of dark energy enveloped him, and he disappeared from the room, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of brimstone.

When he reappeared in his chambers in Hell, the oppressive silence of the space wrapped around him like a cloak. The usual comfort of his lair—the flickering flames, the plush velvet, the distant echo of infernal laughter—felt hollow. Lucifer made his way to his massive, intricately carved bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress.

Lucifer lay sprawled across his luxurious bed, his face buried in the cool silk of his pillows. The room around him was grand, as befitting the King of Hell—a chamber of dark velvet, glowing embers, and twisted beauty—but it felt emptier than ever. His claws dug into the fabric beneath him as his chest heaved with frustration and longing. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind: the soft press of Adam’s lips against his, the way the golden-winged angel froze beneath him, and then—the shove.

The harsh, rejecting shove.

His lips still tingled; his cheeks still flushed from the contact. Lucifer groaned, flipping onto his back as his tail thrashed against the edge of the bed. He stared up at the intricately carved ceiling, the glow of the fiery sconces casting shadows that twisted and danced, mirroring the chaos in his chest.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. His other hand—traitorous thing—lingered near his lips, brushing them softly as if trying to relive that fleeting, perfect moment.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Lucifer wasn’t accustomed to rejection. He was the King of Hell, the first of the fallen, the Morning Star. He could have anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers. And yet, here he was, sprawled out and sulking because one stubborn, infuriatingly beautiful angel had pushed him away.

But it wasn’t just anyone, was it?

It was Adam.

Lucifer let out another groan, throwing an arm over his face as if to shield himself from his own thoughts. His mind raced, thoughts colliding and tangling into a mess of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He’d thought—no, hoped—that they’d been making progress. The past year, things had felt… different. Warmer. Adam didn’t hate him anymore, or so he’d thought. They’d shared conversations, tea, even quiet moments where Lucifer could pretend, just for a little while, that things were as they once were.

He had been so sure that Adam was softening, that the walls Adam had built between them were finally starting to crumble. And then today… that kiss.

Lucifer’s heart clenched at the memory. It had been everything he’d imagined and more. Adam’s lips were warm, soft, and for one blissful moment, it felt as if the universe had aligned. But then the push came, and it was like being cast down from Heaven all over again.

His clawed hand clenched into a fist against his chest, his tail curling tightly around his leg as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t blame Adam. He’d hurt him in the past—so deeply that it was a wonder Adam even tolerated his presence now. The betrayal in Eden, the way he’d let Lilith manipulate him, the way he’d turned away from Adam when Adam needed him most…

He deserved the rejection.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Lucifer sat up abruptly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as he stared across the room. The purple curtains swayed gently, and for a moment, he thought he could see Adam standing there, his golden wings catching the light just so. His heart ached, and he pressed a hand to his chest as if he could physically calm its frantic beating.

“This isn’t a game,” he whispered to himself, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

It wasn’t. Not this time. Lucifer had played plenty of games in the past, but this? This was different. He didn’t just want Adam to fall for him, to become another conquest, another trophy. He wanted… everything.

He wanted Adam’s love, his trust, his companionship. He wanted to see those radiant golden wings spread out beneath him, trembling with pleasure as Lucifer showed him the depths of his devotion. He wanted to hear Adam laugh—really laugh—without the weight of Heaven’s expectations on his shoulders. He wanted Adam to stay by his side, to rule with him, to build something new together.

He wanted Adam to be his.

Lucifer’s cheeks burned at the thought, his hand flying to his mouth as he whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He hadn’t felt like this with Lilith. Or Eve. Or anyone. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Lucifer’s tail flicked against the bed again as a determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d messed up in the past—royally, catastrophically—but he was determined to fix it. Adam might not realize it yet, but they were meant to be together. Lucifer could feel it in every fibre of his being.

“It’s not over,” he said aloud, his voice firm as he pushed himself off the bed. His reflection in the dark mirror across the room stared back at him, and he straightened his crown, his crimson eyes burning with resolve.

Adam might not have been ready for him yet, but Lucifer was nothing if not patient. He’d waited centuries to fix what he’d broken; what was a little longer?

Sooner or later, Adam would come to see things his way. He would come to Hell, where he belonged. By the time the year was up, Adam would be his—mind, body, and soul. Lucifer grinned, his tail swishing with anticipation.

And if Lucifer had his way? Adam would be carrying his child, golden wings shimmering as they ruled together.

“Soon,” Lucifer whispered, his grin widening as he disappeared into the shadows of his chamber, his mind already spinning with plans for their next meeting.

“Oh Addie. Our wedding will be memorable~”

With a purring moan, Lucifer slipped a hand down his front. He slid his hand between his legs, his eyes sliding half-lidded. His long snake-like tongue slithered out from his lips as his mind immediately filled up with Adam.

Oh. He bet Adam would make the cutest sounds~

Lucifer lay back on the plush velvet sheets, fully spent and not quite satisfied, his golden hair was a mess. He gazed up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with memories. His golden and ruby eyes, normally so steady and unshakable, flickered with confusion and regret as they focused on the ceiling above him. His clawed fingers dug into the fabric beneath him, grounding him, though it did nothing to quell the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

He had been so sure of himself, once. The King of Hell, the master of his domain. He had everything he could ever want—power, wealth, respect—yet he had never felt emptier. And it had taken him far too long to realize why.

Adam.

The thought of him, always lingering just out of reach, was what fuelled his every action now. His feelings for Adam had been growing for years, unnoticed at first, perhaps even unrecognized by himself. It had all started with the first time he was drunk, that one fateful meeting when his guard was down, and Adam had been there. He’d been so gentle, so calm, so… unwilling to yield to Lucifer’s charm. It had irritated him at first, that resistance, but as the weeks passed, Lucifer found it… endearing.

And then it grew into something more.

He hadn’t meant to feel this way. At first, it was just loneliness. Lilith had left him, disappeared without a word, and he had no idea where she had gone. She had been everything to him, once. But then, she’d betrayed him, just as he had betrayed her. When she’d left, he’d been swallowed by the void she’d left behind, unsure how to fill it. And when he saw Adam—saw his golden wings and unshakable resolve—he realized he could use that. He could use Adam to fill that void.

But that wasn’t what it had become, was it?

Lucifer rolled onto his side, staring out at the darkened room, his thoughts racing. His feelings for Adam went beyond loneliness now. They were something rawer, deeper, more real. Something that terrified him. At first, it had just been a distraction, a passing fancy. But the more time he spent with Adam, the more he realized how much he needed him.

Needed him. Not just for companionship, but for something more. For Adam’s forgiveness, for his love. For something Lucifer had long since forgotten: peace.

The King of Hell chuckled bitterly to himself. He had been a fool. A scumbag. He had let Lilith manipulate him, cloud his mind, make him think the only thing that mattered was control and power. He had seduced Lilith, used Eve—he had ruined everything. The shame burned inside him, a constant reminder of how wrong he had been. He hated himself for it. He hated himself for letting his pride and desire control him. He hated himself for being a blind fool who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Adam had always been right there, in front of him, and Lucifer had never appreciated him the way he should have. He had taken him for granted. He had acted rashly. He had been disgusting.

Trash.

No. Worse than trash. He had been a monster, and monsters didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve Adam’s forgiveness. Hell, he didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as him. But Lucifer couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about Adam.

The way Adam’s wings fluttered when he was nervous. The way his eyes softened when they spoke about things they both cared about. The way Adam would stare at him, like he didn’t understand why Lucifer couldn’t just leave him alone.

But Lucifer couldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t.

At first, Lucifer had convinced himself it was all just a result of his loneliness, that Adam was nothing more than a temporary distraction. But then the dreams had started. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, his heart racing, because Adam had been there. In his dreams, Adam had been everything he wanted. He had kissed him, had held him, had loved him. And when Lucifer had woken, his body aching, he realized he didn’t want it to end.

When Lilith returned, Lucifer had been so thrown off by his own emotions that he couldn’t even think straight. She had tried to speak to him, tried to rekindle their relationship, but all he could think about was Adam. He hadn’t even heard what Lilith had said—only that she was standing there, in front of him, demanding his attention. But all he could see was Adam. He couldn’t think of anything but the golden-winged angel who had captured his heart without even realizing it.

And when Lilith had left again, Lucifer had made his choice. He told her, without hesitation, to fuck off. He had no more use for her, no more desire for her. He had finally seen it for what it was. Lilith had never been what he truly wanted.

What he truly wanted, Lucifer realized with a bitter smile, was Adam.

The realization had hit him like a freight train. He had wanted Adam for years—he had just been too blind to see it. Too caught up in his own pride and his desire for control. Adam had always been the one, the one he had pushed away, the one he had hurt.

But that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

Lucifer sat up, running his claws through his hair as his chest tightened. He wanted Adam. And not just for a night. He wanted him forever. He wanted to make him his partner, his lover, his equal. He wanted Adam to carry his children. He wanted Adam to be by his side, forever.

But Adam didn’t remember him, did he? Adam didn’t even call him by his name. After all this time, after everything they had been through, Adam still didn’t see him the way he saw Adam. He still thought of him as just the King of Hell.

That hurt more than anything.

But Lucifer wasn’t going to give up. He couldn’t. He had made mistakes, yes. But he would make them right. Adam would come around. Lucifer would make sure of it. Because no matter what, Adam belonged to him.

And Lucifer was going to have him, even if it took everything.

[cuntylestat]

i just personally did not understand what Armand’s motivations were the whole time. Why did he let Louis leave so easily without using his powers, if the whole point is that he does monstrous things just to not be lonely? Did he ever love Louis or was he just trying to spite Lestat like Louis was? If the plan was to kill Louis why not just, like, do it afterwards anyway? He’s so much more powerful. Maybe these all have obvious answers and it’s just me

i don't have all the answers either, just my interpretations with what we know. i also think that we don't need to have all the answers yet and that some of this may be explored in s3.

i think by the time louis shoved armand into the wall he had already tried every desperate excuse he could think of and had to realize it was over, there was no going back. and i don't think armand is as much about blunt force as lestat is when he feels abandoned. his monstrosity lies more in his manipulations, his lies, than using his powers to physically control louis. even in san francisco, he punished louis by letting him suffer his injuries, by hurting daniel and threatening him with lestat, not by physically attacking or restraining louis himself. maybe, to some extent, he also wants the illusion that he's chosen. for example, when louis picks armand in front of lestat, he probably knows it's not really about him and louis really wanting him, but he's desperate enough to be loved that he can at least pretend. that's what he seems to come to with louis all the time; let's just pile all the hurt and the lies under the carpet, i'll do whatever i need to in order for you to be happy so you will stay with me.

i do think armand loved louis, just like he also loved lestat, just like louis and lestat loved each other. and yet they all hurt each other in different ways, it's just how these vampires work. we don't know yet if armand was actually planning to kill louis or if he was also gonna swoop in and save louis at some point - the trial works out differently in the book, so who knows, they may pick up on this later. i think, either way, once louis is still alive, armand sees a chance for them to maybe still work it out; maybe he knows his future with the coven is not sustainable after the trial and he doesn't want to be alone, or he really does regret his role in the trial and wants to be with louis after all. there are many options and maybe we'll get his story at some point

[julianalvarez9]

back home / pedri

word count: 1.484 (got a bit carried away, didn't i?) summary: you're away filming a movie when pedri gets injured in the game against man united. although he assures you it's nothing, you end up making an impulsive decision.

you always knew that being in a relationship with a footballer would be hard. it had proven to be even more difficult now, with you being an aspiring actress who had just gotten signed for a role that was filming overseas.

it’s been about four weeks since you arrived in los angeles, and you already missed your boyfriend. knowing that you probably won’t see him in person for the remainder of the two weeks of filming that were left only made it worse, and at first, you even thought about not taking it. yeah, it was an important role, but you had been offered other roles that were closer to home, or what you called home now, which was wherever pedri was after being together for two years. still, he made sure to make you accept it, assuring you that it would be only a month and a half, and you'll be back together sooner than you realize.

now, being an ocean away, the only way of feeling him close was through the endless texts and facetimes you shared during the rare moments you are free at the same time. the nine hour difference between you made it slightly harder, though: you, waking up to get ready for set while he was winding down to go to sleep.

still, you made the effort of seeing his games every time you could, even if it was only in the background while you learned the lines for the next scene. you always made sure to send him a text before the match and after, wanting to remind him that you would always support him, no matter what. seeing him thrive on the field definitely put a smile on your face instantly, and it made everything so much easier to endure: it was the fact that you two were accomplishing your dreams, together.

it was funny to your family how you had ended up dating a footballer after being such a fan of the sport during your teenage years. you always liked to watch it, and remembered how nerve wracking the games were for you even then, when your only worry was just to see your team win. now, with your boyfriend on the field, it was even worse: the possibility of him suffering an injury made your stomach churn every time, which resulted in you holding your breath when you see a player wearing the classic blaugrana shirt falling down on the pitch. no matter if it was pedri or any of his teammates, it’s always worrying to see someone rolling in pain; but when you recognize the number on his back as the one belonging to your boyfriend, your heart stops until you see him back on his feet.

today, you didn’t have such luck.

you saw that, every time the camera focused on him, pedri was constantly making faces of discomfort, and he even was looking every few minutes at the bench. before the end of the first half, he dropped on the green grass, and the medics quickly made their way onto the pitch to see what was wrong with barcelona’s number eight. they massaged his thigh to learn where the trouble was coming from, and your worry grew every time you saw him wincing in pain when they touched the area.

after a couple of minutes, the decision was to sub pedri off to avoid him hurting himself more, and proceed to do the cheek ups necessary to understand the extent of the injury. your heart broke seeing his annoyed face while walking off the field, knowing just how important this game was for the whole team, and how bad he would feel for thinking that he hadn't helped his teammates enough, given that the match was still 0-0 then.

the game ended in a draw, and you sighed in relief knowing that they still had chances for the second leg. you made sure to leave him a few loving messages before you had to go back to filming, hoping that he wasn’t too hard on himself when there was nothing he could do to avoid it.

pedri had just received the news that he had really messed up his leg: it wasn’t anything too serious, luckily, but he would be be out of the field for a few weeks, including the second leg of the game against man united, which was a bummer for him. seeing your texts on the screen the first time he grabbed his phone after the match made him smile, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to worry you when you were a thousand miles away, doing your thing. there was nothing for him or you to do anyways, given that his body just needed time to get past the injury. so, even if pedri knew that he should tell you what had happened before you learned it for yourself and freak out, he chose to avoid telling the truth.

at least, part of it.

ten days had passed, and your boyfriend thought that all was going well. you had believed him, because why wouldn't you? but even if you didn’t have confirmation about something going wrong, your intuition was strong, and you were growing suspicious of the level of his injury since you hadn't seen any pictures of him at training on the team's instagram. barcelona had a game today, and it was the second time in the last few days that pedri wasn’t even on the bench, and what was worse, he wasn’t even in the stands. 

you had a free day today, as you were ahead of your filming schedule, and you had put the game on the television. given it was still so early, you catched xavi’s pre-game conference, and decided to let it be the background noise whilst you were cleaning your rented flat. you weren’t paying attention really, focusing on the task at hand, but after a few minutes, you heard a familiar name, and your ears perked up.

“how’s pedri doing?,” the interviewer asked, and you frowned your brows, thinking that he was out only as a precautionary measure, not that he was really hurt. still, you wanted to know what xavi had to say, so you sat on the sofa to hear his reply. “well, physically he’s great. just another couple of weeks out due to the extent of the injury he had on the first leg of the series against man united, but he’s doing better now”. 

to be honest, it probably wasn’t the brightest decision, but when you heard that, your first instinct was to search for flights back home. pedri was asleep now, so you couldn’t really talk to him about why he hadn’t told you about how bad it really was, or why he had hidden it to you, but you weren't mad at him. you were just worried, really worried. 

twelve hours later, you were already at home. the house was empty, and you could only guess that pedri would for sure be at the club now, maybe doing work with the physio to help with the injury. being back in spain after a month and a half felt weird, but you were giddy with the idea of seeing your boyfriend again after so long.

you didn’t actually know when he was going to come back, so you decided to take a warm shower to wash away the hours in the flight and the tiredness that was slowly starting to come in due to the timezone difference hitting you already. your boyfriend must have come back home while you were well distracted picking what clothes you'd wear, because you hadn’t heard the front door opening, or even his steps on the stairs.

"¿estoy sonando?" (am i dreaming?) his voice startled you at first, running to get to him once you realized your boyfriend was leaning against the doorframe, the widest smile painting his face while looking straight at you. you hugged him tight by his middle, and he dropped his head down a little to kiss your cheek lovingly. "no sé, ¿estás soñando? (i don't know, are you?), you joked, and he squeezed you even more, almost like needing physical proof that you were actually there.

"pensé que te faltaban un par de semanas más” (thought you had a few more weeks away), your boyfriend said, confused look in his face while he caressed your cheeks. you nodded, face tinted with mischief while saying “sí, pero decidí volver a casa un poco antes para cuidar a mi chico bonito, no es así?” (yeah, but i decided to come home a bit early to take care of my pretty boy, isn’t that right?), at which pedri just shaked his head in fake disapproval at your impulsive decision of coming back home early, when in reality, he was glad to have his girlfriend back home.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Villain's Coffee Shop part 35

Warnings: bedbound injured villain

“I sure hope you know what you're doing.” She trudged out of the room right as Villain finally began speaking to whoever mystery person he was calling for help.

She came back five minutes later and it looked like Villain was finished with the phone call, though now he was staring blankly at the ceiling with an oddly sad, anguished expression that looked a lot like bone-weary defeat.

"How'd it go?" Hero asked, coming closer.

Villain jumped, his stoic mask instantly snapping into place and hiding the dread she'd caught a brief glimpse of a split-second earlier.

"The deal's made," he answered flatly. "My contact will be here tomorrow to heal me. His superpowers are truly one of a kind."

"Is it another villain?"

"Yes."

Hero's brow furrowed. "Healing powers seem like an unusual or pointless gift for a villain to have, don't you think? What does your friend even use them for?"

"Torture, mostly," Villain bit out. "Even good things can be used for evil in the wrong hands. His name is Supervillain. He uses his healing powers to keep victims alive while he tortures them for information or sometimes even just for the fun of it, or for 'practice' to better hone his skills. His powers make it so he can torture a person as much as he wants without worrying about them dying, because he can just bring them back from the edge when they get to close. His gift is that he can create eternal suffering. He can heal you over and over and over again no matter the extent of injury, as far as I know. He is one of the only villains I tend to avoid and stay away from. Oh, and he's not my friend."

"Are you sure you can trust him if he's as vicious and bloodthirsty as you claim?" Hero asked shakily.

"Yes. He will honor the agreement we came to. I may not not trust him, but he always keeps his word. Every time.”

Hero wrapped her arms around herself with an uneasy shiver. "So I guess we just wait, huh?"

"Mhmm. May I have some water in the meantime? I'm parched."

Hero got Villain his water, and the rest of the day passed in almost complete awkward silence, the only communication happening when Hero had to give Villain more painkillers and antibiotics.

Hero frequently wondered what risky deal Villain could have possibly made, but she chose not to badger him for answers -- he was suffering enough as it was.

The night was long and restless when it finally came, and she didn't get much sleep before morning arrived. Villain was still out cold when she got up, so she made sure to be quiet not to wake him as she went to the front of the shop to make some coffee for herself and grab some breakfast. After feeding Mocha she returned to find Villain finally stirring awake.

"Good morning," Hero greeted chipperly, nursing her cup of coffee in her hand.

"What's so 'good' about it?" Villain grumbled grouchily. "Half the bones in my body are broken and I'm in excruciating pain. This is most definitely not a good morning for me."

Hero grimaced. "Sorry --- I was just trying to cheer you up. I didn't intend for it to be offensive."

Villain glanced at her, his groggy, pain-clouded eyes taking a second to focus. "Maybe save the humor for after I'm healed and not physically falling apart, hmm?"

"Noted," Hero chuckled, then changed the subject. "When is Supervillain supposed to come?"

"Noon. He won't be late," Villain rasped, then coughed raggedly. "I'll just have to suffer through the pain in the meantime while I wait."

Hero chewed her lip nervously. "Will he really be able to fix you?"

"He'd better be able to, after the offer I made and the price I’ll be paying for his services."

Hero nodded absent-mindedly, wandering over to a different couch to pick up a magazine and wait apprehensively for the arrival of the miracle healer.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222

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[batsplat]

“the issue was that valentino had thought that he could fix that bike - and while obviously he did influence that project, it was still several years away from being particularly close to being fixed. those two years are all about frustration, of trying to make changes to the bike and nothing working... which was enough to make valentino willing to accept yamaha's terms as long as he could get back to a point where he was competitive again. because he had begun to doubt himself, because after two miserable years of injury, a bike that oscillated between throwing him off and just being slow, the tragedy he and the sport suffered at sepang 2011... well, more than anything else, he just wanted to enjoy himself again”

sorry to copy whole chunks of your work into your inbox and idk if you meant it to sound this way or if it’s an accident but reading this part you could have also been talking about marc’s last years at honda (heartache! my god, my chest twisted) and his switch to ducati and it’s rather interesting… that this happened at almost the same age for them… through almost the same situation………. idk, as different as they sometimes seem, it’s almost like they are meant to be viewed as two versions of the same

(x) maybe a teensy bit on purpose lol

yeah, look, obviously there's plenty of notable differences between the two situations - from how serious the injury was to the personal tragedy valentino went through during that time to the disparity in their ages (three years doesn't sound like a lot but in this sport it kinda is). personally, I didn't really doubt that much that marc could be a title contender again, but from the way he speaks about it, talking during this last presser that he was considering retirement at assen last year... look, some of the stuff early this year was expectation management and of course he's perfectly capable of lying about this stuff, but he very obviously did have some serious doubts about the extent to which he could be competitive again. this is the thing, right... he just hadn't been able to fight at the front of the field for so long, plus he was on a bike that is just ideal for slowly stripping away the confidence of a rider. if you're constantly unexpectedly crashing because you just can't trust the feedback you're getting from the bike, that's just psychologically incredibly tough to deal with (incidentally broadly an accurate description of the ducati during the early 2010s)

which is where the parallels with valentino really do come in, don't they... it's the confidence, the way for the first time in their careers, it's really been systematically stripped down... all this self doubt, the way they're struggling to find themselves again. of course, they'd both gone through rough patches before - the 2006-07 period for valentino, 2015 for marc. they've had a few knocks, it's not as easy to shrug off injuries any more, they know there's no guarantee they'll measure up to the riders they once were. I compiled valentino talking about marc's injury here, but most relevant is how he compares it to his own 2010 injuries. so you have this in july 2020:

I think it's interesting that valentino acknowledges that it helped he knew his title charge was over after the broken leg, to force him to give it up and just focus on his recovery. it's easier, right - if he'd been in marc's situation, it's entirely possible he would've tried to race the following week too. I also think this is an interesting way of framing his actual recovery process, where he *checks notes* still came back way sooner than everyone expected,leading to speculation he didn't really believe his title charge was over - plus kept delaying surgery to the shoulder to the off-season even though it was very obviously hampering him, which then continued to be an issue the following year. like, okay, great job, you didn't try to ride a motogp bike WITH A BROKEN LEG, but also "I only thought about getting better" doesn't quite match up with your actions buddy

as valentino acknowledges, the sport does have a history of near-miraculous comebacks... I feel like these days people only remember 2010 and not the 2017 knock-off

and of course marc's ill-fated decision has to be seen within this context. the ways in which he was influenced by the comebacks from other riders in the past (the most famous of which is probably jorge assen 2013) and by how he himself had a habit of somewhat improbably recovery timelines after constant off-season surgery. from the vale race recs post *wink wink* *nudge nudge*:

valentino also compares his own mugello injury with marc's in september of 2020:

so you also get valentino agreeing with the parallel between honda's situation in 2004 and 2020. of course, the situation in 2004 wasn't as dramatic for honda - but in both cases, they went into that season fully expecting to win that title and instead found themselves underperforming and losing

moving on to comparing the injuries: valentino says his initial injury was worse, but it was marc doing the crazy fast comeback that really fucked him over (which is all true). he talks about why it's so tough... the "physical side" of the pain when you ride the bike but also "on a mental level if you have any fear". how this leaves a "mark on all riders". not particularly hard to draw any parallels here, he's already doing it for us

and lastly in november 2020, again with reference to his own 2010 injury:

talking about how eventually it becomes not just about the career but also about quality of life... how it was a tough period for him because he was just in constant pain... "sometimes you need time"... again, not really much to add, is there. the following years are a brutal double whammy of sorts: not only are you attempting to recover from your worst career injury, not only are there massive reasons why you're suffering (chronic pain, personal tragedy), but also you're suddenly uncompetitive in a way you've never been before in the premier class. you know there's a real possibility your time at the top of the sport is over... that even if you get back on a competitive bike, there's no guarantee you'll be able to come close again to being the rider you once were. you've ridden a bike that's gradually sapped your confidence, your ironclad trust in your own ability to be able to master any bike... you've spent so much time away from the top positions, and you've also made way more high profile mistakes that you had at any stage of your career. for valentino, the most memorable one is obviously jerez 2011 - which, yeah, you can write it off as just a dumb error in the wet, but it's not the kind he'd make if he didn't see this as his one chance to get a big result this early in the season with the crap bike and the crap shoulder (this is 'ambition outweighs talent'). for marc, it's silverstone 2021 (as martin says afterwards, "I hope he can learn from this one and improve for the future", which is great snark lol), portimao last year (y'know, the home crowd booing him)... arguably aragon 2022 the first lap, but that one's not quite as bad a misjudgement (admittedly, he maybe should've called it a day after the first collision). obviously, valentino was never a particularly crash-prone rider until he got on that ducati - but it's worth remembering marc wasn't really known for this kind of error, where he was collecting other riders and causing them both to crash. all of this isn't fun! it's also just kind of humiliating! they're used to so much success, and now they're getting barely any of that - while also occasionally having to go around apologising to other blokes for annoying errors they weren't really making back in the day!

then from marc's end, you've got this quote from 2014 (credit to this post):

of course, knowing marc, there's no way he's not thought about the parallels between his current situation and valentino's back in 2013. and, look, obviously it's not one to one. valentino was three years older back then, his injuries were serious but considerably less so than what marc went through, the competitive landscape looks completely different now than it did in 2013... but this isn't about drawing direct comparisons, it's more about the associated feelings for both of them... all this self doubt, all this pain, the way they just weren't having fun any more... this is the first order of priority, rediscovering the joy. personally I reckon they were being more or less sincere at the start of that journey in not primarily thinking about securing more titles. of course, that changes once they realise they can be competitive again... but while the doubt remains, it's not the main thing they're concerned with

that's the fun thing about qatar 2013, isn't it? there's no point in valentino's entire career where he would have been less invested in whether he ended up winning or losing a fight like that. the whole point wasn't the end result, it's that he was even capable of fighting like that again... of having fun again, battling with a top rider, with the star of tomorrow. given his weekend up to that point, he wouldn't even have been expecting to do so right before the race! really, beating marc in that race was just a bonus. in a different way, the same thing was obviously true of marc: making his debut in the premier class and immediately getting to fight his hero, ending up taking his first ever premier class podium. because of some cruel alchemy of timing and circumstance, you've managed to capture them both at the precise moment where they really are just happy to be there, made their first fight with each other a moment of pure, undiluted ecstasy. such a sweet moment for the pair of them, where they found themselves able to fight each other and had every reason to relish it. you really couldn't have scripted it better

and like you say, they are two versions of the same rider! it really does feel like their careers should be read in conversation with each other! obviously valentino frequently acknowledged this himself early on, saying it wasn't an 'exaggeration' to call marc 'the next valentino rossi'... the ways in which marc had modelled himself after valentino, including of course copying some of his most famous overtakes. beyond their rivalry and conflict, there is also continuity between the pair of them. their entire feud hinges on how it can feel like a blessing to face another version of yourself... but it can also become a curse. the reason why they grew so close in the first place and why things got so ugly between them is fundamentally the same. neither of them have ever really forgotten about the similarities between the pair of them either. mutually inescapable until the end, I fear

incidentally, for context, here's what valentino was actually saying at the end of the ducati years. first of all, he pays casey his dues for being able to succeed on that bike:

you'll note that while he says the experience hadn't broken him (though "I don't think so" isn't particularly firm either), he does talk about how psychologically tough riding that ducati was. also, like I mentioned in the post that this one is a follow-up to, the really big frustration is not even about the riding as much as it is in the utter failure in bike development terms - where nothing they did actually worked:

he describes this as his first wrong career choice (although in other places he has also defended this decision), while also paying credit to his ducati team. crucially it followed on from all these rolls of the dice that had worked, the most major ones being probably the switch to yamaha and later the switch to bridgestones:

he says he's uncertain about whether he'll be able to fight for titles and even race wins again, stressing the importance of the valencia test (which is when he knew he was in serious trouble back in 2010):

and he talks about being the number two rider back at yamaha (while of course flipping it around again to ensure he's putting pressure on jorge):

same principle as with marc, some of this is expectation management and avoiding putting too much pressure on himself, cf marc's constant talk about being content if he could just fight for those 'top five top six positions' again (lol). but crucially valentino didn't know what would be possible

he does also talk a bit about his successors to the seat:

the thing about the ducati during this time, right, is that it was a very bad bike. honda decided to be a bit more dramatic about this post-2020, but these are two broadly analogous cases of massive decline for a manufacturer that had recently won a championship. casey came in for 2007 as a 21 year old insanely talented rider who wasn't too familiar with another bike (certainly not one as friendly as the yamaha) and was able to do something special with that capricious package... but he also talks in his autobiography about how ducati became far too complacent once that title had been won. it's not just mystery illness that explains the progressive decline in his results at ducati during the following three years - it was hubris from ducati, their refusal to listen to their riders while preferring to insinuate their riders simply weren't following the right diet or just weren't exercising enough. valentino switched to this poor package at an age at which adapting to a new bike is just categorically harder, and he failed in making any real progress with that bike for the following two years

that being said, at the end of the day ducati's situation back then isn't a million miles away from what you've seen with the honda - albeit in a different era where this performance decline wasn't punished quite so badly in championship standings because the margins now are a lot slimmer. casey did the equivalent to what marc did in the late 2010s, and put a somewhat evil but obviously fast bike into championship contention for two of his four years at ducati. he jumped ship at the right time, valentino jumped onto it at the wrong time and swiftly realised most of the ship was by this point underwater. look, just some interesting context imo! feel free to ignore. if you're interested in a more in-depth read about what was actually wrong with the bike in 2011, here you go - the short version is "front end feel". which is of course the ideal way to ruin confidence... if you can't trust the feedback you're getting, you can't trust yourself, simple as

[fanficwriterlover]

Safe With A Ghost

18+ Readers Only

Chapter 7: Back to You

Summary: Ghost, is alive? All he can think about is you and Colton. He wants so badly to fight his way back to you. Will he break his way back to you ? Or will the Ghost actually become a Ghost ?

Expectations: blood, torturing, shooting, stabbing, killing, death, bleeding, injuries, cursing, mentions of torturing,

Pet-Names: Pigeon

Word Count: 3.2K

════ ⋆Safe With A Ghost MasterList⋆ ════

═════════ ⋆Chapter 8⋆ ═════════

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Ghost had endured all kinds of torture before, this wasn't new to him, however as the days went by, he knew this was probably the longest he's been held hostage. He was dripping with blood everywhere, they had brutally beaten him without mercy. Unwavering by the torturing he remained silent, he refused to break to this. You and Colton were what kept him going and he would be damned if he'd give anything to the enemy. For the first two weeks, they would do loads of beating, but they wanted him alive that's for sure. They had him stripped of his vest, shirt, and shoes. They even went as far to remove his mask. They had stripped away his layer, one he lifted to those he valued. Above all else especially you, you respected him mask or not. You never tried to over step his boundaries. For once, he was appreciating you for everything, your patience and tolerance. He truly didn't deserve you. Deep down he knew you were probably already grieving for him, that now he was labeled either M.I.A or K.I.A. he wanted to fight back so badly just to get back to you. Already imagining the pain you were probably experiencing how your tears would be gushing down your cheeks like waterfalls, your eyes red, and puffy, your cheeks red from putting pressure on your face or wiping at your tears. The worst part would be hearing your whimpers. That's what made him want to keep holding on, he didn't want you to suffer knowing he's still alive, just unable to fight, unmoving, brutally beaten to no normal persons extent. He was bounded to the chair arm, and legs. They only bounded him with chains, he would've at least made sure the chains weren't as bulky like his but it was to his advantage in a sense. The bulkier it was the sloppier the tightness.

Snapping him from his mind a guard came in, he was obviously drunk, guess they were celebrating some kind of victory was all he could conclude. The man was hold liquor in his hands. Ghost didn't so much as make eye contact with the guard, two others soon followed shortly he knew what to expect, they were going to ramble and taunt him about something. But what he least expected was what the guard was holding up as he spoke "Ah, now we have your attention ? Boss said to use anything and he meant ANYTHING to get you talking." The man flipped open the picture of you holding his son smiling, it was a picture he kept in his military vest to keep him moving. "Cute family, didn't take the Ghost for one to settle down." He chuckles as two other guards chuckle in the back from the man's taunting almost like egging the guy on "It would be an awful shame if something were to happen-" he gives a dramatic pause, Ghost's eyes were staring daggers at the man daring him to continue that sentence each second the man talked, the blood from Ghost's arm, was sliding down to the chains making it wet and more adjustable to slip out. Even if it meant encouraging himself to bleed he didn't care. He wanted to mutilate the man "She is a looker, I remember when that team was supposed to kidnap her...tsk" it hit him, these were the men from that year who attempted to kidnap you when he was on a mission. Everything was slowly falling into place he keep flexing against the chains from both his hands and feet (luckily the chains were more separate at his feet that he could walk in them) as the man continues to taunt "If we were tasked with kidnapping her, we would've had a mighty good time." He laughs darkly, this really made him boil, the thought of a pig like him touching was enough insensitive to break from the chains, slipping out. He launched himself at the man who was too busy laughing and processing that the captor had broken free. In a instant, Ghost grabbed the man's gun from his waits band shooting him in the head grabbing his limp body then aiming at the two other guards. Despite the pain, he was running on adrenaline, he was beyond pissed.

The man who taunted the idea about you he dropped him to the ground putting more bullets into him "Don't fuckin talk about my girl..." Taking what he could from the three dead guards he put himself in their disguises. Despite the fact their stuff could barely fit him, he made it work nonetheless. Arming himself to the teeth, with every weapon they had and enough ammo. One of them even had keys to some vehicle, it was almost like a blessing in disguise. He used any means to get out. He used one of men's shirts to make into a mask as he made his way of the his cell hold, he didn't know how many other men were around. Holding his pistol on his hip he walked efficiently, his heart pumping adrenaline filling his body almost survival instincts as he was very much bleeding and probably had some broken bones. Coming down a hallway two soldiers were in sight, they didn't notice him as they were walking. He grabbed two of the knives he had, creeping behind them before aiming on at the guys back which knocked him down, his partner obviously shocked by this reacting too slow as Ghost slitted the man's throat.

He kept moving every step he came upon guards but each one proved to be no matter for him, even wounded Ghost was unstoppable but that's because he had something they didn't. Willpower and luck. Fighting his way through everything he finally made it outside the building. Studying the layout, seeing it, he realized it was not the same building that Laswell had sent them to. Which meant the place they were led to was a trap all along. Was a means to lure them while all the while the real facility was not even within radius. He saw a line of vehicles not far, stealthily creeping toward them staying low, he was hoping the keys he had would go to one of them as he did not want to risk getting attention. Cautiously he crept behind the cars, so far not spotted, he crouched down considering whether or not how he was going to test which key would work. When studying the vehicles it seems they were outdated, so he hoped if they were the same model they any key would work for them. Testing his luck he went for a vehicle that was in the middle quietly opening the door and getting in. Taking a breath he slotted the key into the ignition, and with that the humvee roared. Without hesitation, already guards shouting and realizing what was happening, Ghost floored on the accelerator speeding to the gates. One where guards began shooting, he ducked still driving as he heard the crashing of the gate, he made it through. Now he was on a dirt road. He glanced at the rear view mirror they seemed to be struggling to find the keys to the rest of the humvee as he took a deep breath mixed with a hiss from pain, holding his side. He was going home. Now he just needed to get a hold of someone somehow some way to get back to you.

You were so dull, you forgot how to take care of yourself and focus on everything around you. Luckily Gaz who stayed behind to look after you and help you around the property as well as Colton. As horrible as it was, staring at Colton hurt a lot, you were reminded of Simon. His blonde lashes and growing blonde hair. He was literally the duplicate of Simon, besides having your eye color and complexion. You were sitting on the couch, holding your cup of tea, Simon's favorite tea, it had become your comfort drink reminding you of him. Colton was playing on the ground with his toys scattered around him, Gaz was upstairs getting some rest, he stayed up all night taking care of Colton so you could rest. You spent days being depressed and Gaz did his best to keep you in line which you appreciated. Colton kept shaking his giraffe in his hand. Setting your cup down, you stand up walking over to your son, getting down on your knees, he had the most chubby dimple smile imaginable. You couldn't help but find yourself smiling at his smile, grabbing another stuffed toy of a lion then handing it to him, which he happily grabbed giggling. He was in his onesie that had lion prints on it, something Simon thought would be suitable animal for your son. You just wish Simon was here to see your son really taking to his lion. You spoke softly "I know your daddy is probably fighting out there somewhere..." You paused as your son giggled with his lion in hand gibbering in a baby language as you continued "I know he'll come back...everyone keeps making it seem like he's gone...he's Ghost. He always rises up" you speak softly as your son crawls over to your lap, you pick him up looking at him "Yeah....your right, mommy should keep her head up. Daddy will be back in no time ." Your son cooed as you rub the back of his head, you hoped you believed your own words.

Simon made it into the city, he recognized it. It was the last place he and his team drove through. Going to a run down hotel. Hoping he could get on the phone line. Pulling into the parking lot, Ghost weakly got out, he hid the vehicle behind other cars, as he made his way into the hotel office. Upon entering, there was a man sleeping at the desk, Ghost looked at the man then saw the phone, taking the phone into his hands, he went around the bend. Looking at the phone in his hands he began to question who he should call first. A part of him wanted to reach out to you, to hear your voice, ask about their son, know you're safe, but he knew if he did, you'd worried endlessly. For now, he has to let you believe he's dead. Instead he dialed a number that was best course in action.

Price was doing everything in his power to get things together to go back to find Ghost. He was already making plans with Laswell who was getting things cleared up for him to search again. However from the last unsuccessful search, the new head General was losing patience and did not want to waste military efforts for one man. So they were doing it under his very nose. As Price was deciding who would be coming on the mission and who will not, he decided to have Soap come with him to find Ghost. While Gaz, remained at your side to take care of you, Colton, and the property. Plus for security purposes as well, he'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to you under his sworn protection to Simon. As him and Soap were loading into the craft that was going to take them to the airport they landed at, Price notices an unknown caller. He frowns at his phone, seeing the location, this phone wasn't a number many could access. So he answered "Hello, this is Price ?" He waited he could hear rustling on the other end, then Soap walked over "Who is it Captain?" Price gave him a look, until he froze "Good hearing from you John..." Hearing his name come from a familiar British accent Price gripped his vest looking at Soap with firm eyes "Simon. You're fuckin alive ?!" He claps Soap on the shoulder letting out a shakey laugh as they both immediately boarded the craft, Soap immediately telling the pilot to get them in the air, Ghost continued "As you said John, can't kill a ghost can ya ?" Price gives a hearty laugh "You bastard, we've looked everywhere for you ! Where are you?" Ghost grunted on the other end as Price frowned he knew immediately that he must've been held hostage this whole time and obviously wounded. "Can you stay low for a couple hours until we get there ?" Ghost gives a huff "I can damn well try, as long as you pay for my stay at this god forsaken place." Price sits down on the seat in the craft "Of course. Put me with the owner when we're done. And Simon-" Ghost says in a low gruff voice "How is she ?" Price knew exactly what he meant. The thought of you grieving all this time, barely eating and simply struggling to take care of Colton. You were literally barely functioning. He spoke lowly "She's broken Simon....but she's a fighter. As soon as I get you back on solid home turf, I'll take you home personally, I swear. "

Ghost couldn't imagine how much you've had to endure, he leaned against the wall holding onto his stomach, he probably definitely had broke ribs as he sighed softly "Yeah, she always was a fighter...and Colton ?" He could hear Price let off a huff "That little bugger definitely has your genes, but they're in good hands right now. I have Gaz and other men at your place...and before you panic they don't know it's where you live. They simply think she's a friend of mine needing protection. So, hang tight Simon. We'll get you home." Ghost closed his eyes for a moment. Hearing his son and you were well protected and safe made him feel at ease. Now he just needed to hang on until he got out of this place. "Hurry it up would ya ? I'm sick of this fuckin cold country" Price laughs again "On it Simon. Hang tight. Send me your location and I'll take care of the bills for you until we arrive." With that Ghost hung up the phone. Hanging on this long he knew he could hang on a little more to get back to you and Colton. He walked back over to the front desk person setting the phone down roughly which woke the man "I need a room for a couple night. My friend paid for it already. John Price." The man drowsily grabbed his mouse clicking over the computer screen and typing at the keyboard "Ah, yes, you can have room 12." The man offered Ghost the keys as Ghost took them "Do you have some medic kit by chance ?" The man nodded then stood up going into a room pulling out a large med kit, seemed like he had a lot of stuff. Ghost took the bag, then made his way to his room. He knew it'd be a while until Price arrives, so he might as well tend to himself in case more complications show up.

Ghost tended to his wounds removing his shirt where he was bruised and bleeding. Making due with what he had. Luckily he remembered your teachings. He grumbles to himself "She'd be cursing me if I didn't listen" he almost chuckled at the thought. Whenever he returned from a mission you'd inspect him head to toe for new scars or injuries. During your pregnancy was when you really began to be more frantic, especially after his mission when he was shot at by the Shadow company.

"Ghost, everytime you come home I swear you got a new wound !" You grumbled to yourself seeing his shoulder patched up from an obvious bullet wound. He just looked at you, seeing you fussy, touching around his wound almost inspecting the last doctor's handy work. It was adorable. Especially seeing you carrying their child. You were 28 weeks pregnant now, the bump was obvious, not even full size yet, you even planned a day for the two of you to do an ultrasound so he could see your baby together. Yet, despite it, you still carried yourself confidently and graceful, sure didn't stop you from staying on your feet as Ghost grumbled "It's fine Pigeon, the bleeding stopped long ago, stop stressing it's not good for the baby" you give him a look, one he knew would regret if you were in your full flexible capacity, if anything, you were one person he'd never mess with, and quite frankly the only person who didn't tremble under pressure from him. "Say that again Simon Riley.... I'm aware of my limits. I am a doctor" you gave him a warning tone as he slides his hand around your waists gently the other rubbing on your belly "I know Pigeon, just worry about you love." He rubbed your belly in small circles, he never felt the baby kick, you had told him once, while he was away, and was able to sneak a check up with you but he hoped he'd at least experience it once. You look at him intently seeing his mind wander "Well...the doctor seems to have done an OKAY job I suppose" you mumble softly. This earns a chuckle from Ghost leaning closer to your face lifting your chin "Is that right ? Don't go praising other men pigeon." He gives you a look, that makes you tremble a bit, those eyes, his tone, his demeanor, everything, that's what got you pregnant and madly in love with him. He chuckles lifting up his mask slightly, his hand still on your belly, as he smirks near your lips "Atta Girl, seems I still can make that mouth shut" you were about to retort, until you felt a little someone kick you in the gut. Simon's eyes were wide. You were reeling from the strong kick as you watched Simon's lips tighten "Was that-" you smile gently slightly then feeling another kick, your baby was definitely happy to know their father was back. You watched his scarred lip form a smile as he then plants a kiss on your head "Little buggers sure packing a kick eh, just like their momma" you laugh gently leaning into his kiss "Just like their father too, strong as hell of course" this gets a chuckle out of him as the two of you hold each other "Can't wait to meet the little one with you" you smile gently "Yeah, me too Simon"

Reminiscing about you made him work even harder to tend to his wounds. He was in the bathroom, stitching himself up, with the supplies he had, looking at his reflection. He kept his makeshift mask on though, he couldn't take any chances here. Once he finished he took some medication for the pain, as he could already picture you tell him to take some, to sleep away the pain. He was used to it however, but he did it for your sake because he didn't want you worrying more than you were already. He then made his way to the bed, sitting down and laying down on it. Looking up at the ceiling, the medication kicking in as all he could think was how soon he could get back to you soon.

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

Thanks for Reading

We're getting close to the final stretch for this series, I can't wait to give this story the happy ending that is deserved. Stay tuned !

ꨄ︎Taglist: @jadama20 @lunamoons-posts @babygirl-panda19 @kat-nee @marshallowy @bi-witch-bxtch @unit-1021 @wwe1rdc0re @crazy-phan-girl13

[a-student-out-of-time]

Aw shit...Here we go again...

All I'll say about the review is that I agree with how Damon is hypocritical and imperfect, and I think that's...kind of the point.

Something I didn't discuss when I made my review video of Eden's Garden that I...almost want to do a follow up for, is something that I pointed out to @deepclover80 privately. And it's something that really interested me.

Since the beginning of Eden's Garden, Damon has been talking about how Ultimate Students are the pinnacle of humankind, and how they're above everyone else. And it's because he has that title that makes Damon act like he's so much better than anyone.

But the way I see it, as I've seen Damon through Chapter 1, and the way that he's subtly imperfect, despite the air he gives of, it's not that Damon has this hubris because he's an Ultimate. It seems more like it's the other way around. Because he's an Ultimate, he needs to HAVE this hubris.

It seems to confuse Damon in the way that most of these other Ultimate's are so...normal, casual, and friendly, despite their talents and gifts, and it makes him not take them seriously. But this is because he's the only one that thinks his talent makes him somewhat special. In fact, there are a handful of characters in Eden's Garden who, to varying extents, seem to REVILE their Ultimate Talents.

Eva, the most obvious, has only ever known pain because of her Mathlete title, and is ashamed of it. This is the whole point of her motives and character in Chapter 1, in the fact that she's faced so much bullying because she happens to be good at numbers, that she couldn't hack it anymore.

Wolfgang, based on what he said in his final moments, has studied most of his life to become a lawyer, and is incredibly good at what he does, but supposedly, it will never be enough for his family, and that brings him great shame.

Grace has had a supposedly very rough past that revolves around her rise as a golfer, and it shaped her personality into what it is now - Someone needlessly competitive, and outwardly hostile to everyone around her, because she can't tell for sure who is or isn't her enemy.

Desmond is a generally chill guy, but everyone is wary of him just because his talent is related to guns and firearms, which many see as dangerous.

Jean is frequently confused for a pirate because of his talent.

Mark’s musical skills prevent him from living a quiet life because of all the attention he gets as Mayhem.

Jett suffered a horrific injury to the point that he can never take off his helmet, or rather chooses never to take it off.

Cassidy’s status as a streamer and pro gamer immediately makes everyone assume she’s a greedy grubby cheapskate who lives off donations and trapping people into giving her money (more FTE’s might shed light on this).

Wenona, similarly, had gone through a lot of hardship purely because she a woman with a lot of success, and has been shamed by many for her way of doing things, even though she sticks to her guns.

Kai, as an influencer, struggles with the worst the internet has to offer on a regular basis, frequently being the source of many controversies despite not wanting anything to do with it, and having no control.

There are a few other examples, but these are the main one's I spotted.

If you ask me, I think the way to look at it is how Damon is different from the Danganronpa protagonists that came before him. Makoto and Shuichi are very humble and, in Shuichi's case especially, very down on themselves. They're so sure that they're nothing special, and don't really know how to fit in with everyone else, who they generally think is way cooler. It manifests in different ways though, because Shuichi doubts his own abilities constantly, while Makoto feels like he doesn't really have any abilities to doubt.

Hajime's a bit of a different case, but that's largely because in his two iterations, his lack of talent, and then getting Ultimate talents, obviously come crashing down on him. Most of DR2, he's struggling to remember his talent, and his identity crisis really starts to grip him when he finds out he doesn't have one. But when he finds out he doesn't have a talent, he's upset, and when he finds out he's the Ultimate Hope, he CRASHES TF OUT when he finds out what Hope's Peak did to him and what he consented to.

And I think the biggest sign that Damon really is steadfast on holding onto this ideal is the fact that he admits that Diana pissed him off in the final scene of the chapter. He's envious of the fact that Diana can be so confident in a situation that she has no control over, and no skills to handle, but it still going to do it anyway, because unlike Damon, she's overcoming her fear and the self-loathing she feels for what happened to Eva and Wolfgang.

Something that Damon isn't able to do.

And if Diana is able to do something and Damon isn't, despite seeing himself as superior overall, you know that's gonna cause an internal dialogue at best.

All of this is to say that I think Damon is a fascinating protagonist so far, even if he's not an especially likeable or friendly one. Eden's Garden has a bright future ahead of it.

//That's a really interesting perspective, I hadn't considered that one!

//And yeah, I do feel that, in that context, Damon's behavior at least makes more sense. My primary issue is definitely more of a personal taste thing, and not at all a definitive statement on EG's quality. Damon is definitely a well-written character and I'm sure they have a lot in mind for him.

//As anyone who's followed me for long enough will know, I've never been a fan of the elitism in the DR franchise. I've never liked characters with bloated egos or who believe that their talents make them superior to everyone else. Are they setting up his character very well? Yes, but I also can't stand him as he is ^^;

//But with this in mind, it does put his responses to other characters and their views into a new perspective. I just assumed Damon hated everyone else for no reason, but it's interesting to consider it as him not understanding why these others aren't like him.

//Maybe it'll end up telling us a lot more about him down the line, with the ways that he interacts with them and what he learns going forward. That would cool to see.

[mutedmaw]

“Suffer with me, I will lay you to rest and pray I follow…”

Hey! This is the askblog to my oc, Pestilence!

My Main is @minifrau

My other Pressure oc blog is @lemonliscious

Pestilence Z-444 “The Escape”

Callum Clairmont worked with a classified company upon Lake Vostok in Antarctica, a lake preserved for thousands to millions of years under kilometres of ice. Once his team managed to drill through the surface, he contracted one of the parasites from a currently unknown era. Callum grew increasingly ill, and as no medical treatment helped, offered to sign up with the Urbanshade company as they promised to help him find a cure. Urbanshade only really wanted to use this as a test. Through further study, it was discovered that Callum had a disease dating millions of years back, and fortunately was found to not be contagious. Urbanshade transported him to their underwater facility, the Hadal Blacksite where the experiments and “cure” would be executed. Their plan was to mix his DNA with that of a creature from the same era the disease originated, and accidentally overshot the procedure. The DNA was extracted from an unstable fossil, making the scientists accidentally use too much of the beast’s genetics assuming they were weak. Callum was transformed into one of the creatures itself, still holding small slivers of personality and humanity while being controlled by instinct. Seeing no necessary reversal of the procedure, Callum, renamed Z-444 with code name Pestilence was used as a lab rat, being given countless diseases and ailments to see if anything could kill it. Through further scanning, it was discovered his brain had been completely shredded by the many demolishing diseases it carried. Brain tissue is currently being found all around his body.

During the breach caused by Z-13, former handyman Sebastian Solace, the gates to its heavy containment chamber were opened, allowing it to rampage the sector it had been kept, killing all personnel involved despite receiving many fatal injuries. From recovered security footage during the lockdown, it is seen that Pestilence went as far as to attack Z-13 and Z-18 “The Grinner” who assisted Z-13 with the lockdown, while also attempting to break through the facility’s glass to reach Eyefestation, undeterred by its brain-melting shockwaves. Z-444 will kill anything on sight, no matter the cause. Some survivors report it still has a voice, but this is still yet to be confirmed, being that this could be one of the many hallucinations in the Blacksite. Note, it is highly photosensitive.

Extra info!:

Pestilence has no set voice, its altered throat rarely making consistent octaves or tones. In fact, its speaking is more just rumbles resembling words. I mean, for a general voice claim I would say Cyn (Murder Drones German Dub).

Blud is probably constantly having a terrible fever.

Despite what it may seem, Pestilence was and is a male.

Since a full body ref will be (eventually) made, envision him like a quite large "woolly" crocodile/dinosaur, having much straighter and taller legs.

Basic DNI's!

No NSFW, suggestive jokes are fine. (To some extent.)

Pestilence's lines will be in Red.

Mod/Me! Call me Minifrau or Peghita! I AM A MINOR. Nicknames slay! (Im new to tumblr roleplaying!)

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

ippiki au: minor characters edition

first things first: here look at everyone. dont mind the inconsistency of style, i took a 4 month break in the middle of these okay

and now! lore and stuff will be under the cut to not clog up everything

ill include everyones images a second time before their specific lore just to help keep track of things i hope you dont mind that. also implied vbs event spoilers (specifically for light up the fire) when you get to radder, if thats a concern at all

mizuki- deer. a runaway from an arena with lower security, met ena early into their escaped days and theyve stuck together since. their antler broke while in the arena, and they havent shed yet to grow back evenly. whether the white spots are because of their deer species or the fact that theyre still a teenager or just because of weird hybrid things is up to viewer interpretation (aka i never really settled on a specific type of deer for them). unfortunately the antlers make them pretty visibly trans and they dont really like having them, but at least most other hybrids dont seem to care too much.

ena- mountain lion. grew up in the same lab as akito, and to neither of their knowledge, they are actually related (ena was still somewhat of an older sister figure to him, along with some of the others from his group. they havent seen each other in a few years since ena got taken to an arena. to each other they might as well be dead). not the biggest fan of their current situation, but shes trying to make the best of it.

they live together currently in the undercity, living somewhat steadily off of odd jobs. its not the greatest life, and maybe one day theyd like to leave, but for two teenage girls, its the best theyre managing for now, and it certainly could be a lot worse. they both couldve never escaped their arenas and died there.

haruka- domestic shorthair cat (but often mistaken for being a russian blue... shes just a regular gray cat with blue eyes). an ex-feral (captured as a child) turned show pet with a reputation for her cool charm. while shes taken to this life with relative ease, she misses her home from far outside the city and her childhood best friend who got captured at the same time and separated from her (she cant help but fear that an is probably dead, sent to an arena for her rowdier personality. shed like to hope otherwise, but the odds are against her)... also yes, her outfit mainly looking like her asrun outfit is intentional.

minori- goat. i forgot her sideways pupils here but she has those, just like kohane and luka. a childhood friend of kohanes, raised in the same lab, but was bought as a show pet instead. no one really knows why, besides her enthusiastic personality having its strengths in the idol-like niche of show pets. admires haruka from a distance, but theyve never had a chance to properly meet. maybe one day...

nene- longhaired fold cat x canary. part of a private project attempting to create non mammalian hybrids by balancing them out with known stable hybrids, and shes one of the first semi successful ones. she might have survived to a reasonable age so far, but not without complications. shes prone to occasionally unstable health and has some speech issues, mostly caused by the bird parts of her not mixing well with everything else. the feathers are cute, but at what cost? although being kept in a very restrictive environment isnt doing her any favors either...

technically shes not even a main part of the au! shes got her own side storyline with wxs lol

kotaro- racoon. literally just some guy. from the same town as haruan, but hes just been there the whole time. probably the only character here who hasnt experienced the horrors to some extent. not actually relevant to the au besides like oh he exists he might briefly show up, but i wanted to draw him because i had design ideas

souma- domestic dog, some kind of mutt. suffered a combination of severe injuries throughout his time in an arena and during their escape, leaving him with a nasty mess of scars across his body as well as a mostly paralyzed arm and a noticeable limp. hes trying to stay positive despite that, after all theyre free! but its tough sometimes, he cant help but feel bad that hes slowing down their pace in traveling.

arata- caracal. from the same arena as souma, but escaped much more unscathed, his past injuries are nowhere near as severe. heard stories about the outside world somewhere and is now determined to find somewhere worth living out in the wasteland with souma. hes not exactly friendly to people they cross paths with, but its mostly out of caution to protect both of them.

fun fact i had to redesign soumarata partially because i just wasnt satisfied with their designs (i had made some very early on into the au) and partially because me and my friends realized souma is the taller one (hes like. slightly taller than touya? while arata is only taller than akito) and i had it the other way around before.

nagi- maned wolf. a popular face around town, and one of their most successful participants in various resource gathering missions (it isnt uncommon for hybrid towns to have members who will steal things for their towns from supply trains that go out to human towns in the wasteland and nagi was often a fan of going on those). she liked to get out and explore the wasteland! sometimes shed let an (and less often, haruka as well) tag along with her so they could see more of the world while still supervised, but that led to her own downfall. a mission went wrong, the kids got caught, and she got killed trying to save them.

taiga- tiger (how could i not go for the pun, and also canon did it first anyway). while once a common sight around town, after nagis death hes become a rare visitor, traveling more often than not, only stopping home once in a while. maybe he doesnt want to linger around the feelings left behind now that shes gone. scary and serious, but not out of bad intentions.

ken- fox (just like an). runs a somewhat popular cafe in town, comfortably settled down. he regrets not being there to protect his daughter, but theres nothing to do about it anymore. maybe one day shell come back, but for now, hes got a job to do and thats the most important thing for him to focus on.

nagi and taiga are fully aware that theyre siblings, unlike akito and ena. it was more common for their generation to be aware of this, rather than having knowledge about their origins withheld. they both were in an arena that focused on team fights, and when taigas original teammate was killed, nagi ended up with him, prompting him to help them both escape because he didnt want to let his sister get hurt more than necessary (even though shes capable of taking care of herself in a fight). they met ken (another arena escapee) during their way out of the city, and began traveling as a group of three until they found the town they all called home. their presence was an important part of making that town thrive into the place it is now, even if things for the trio have since fallen apart quite a bit. nagi is gone, taiga rarely sticks around, ken is the only one who stayed now.

meiko- bear. runs a convenience store at night in the undercity near one of the arenas (the one akikoha are in), well known around the area and uses her advantageous shop location to help new escapees get a little more set into their newly freed lives. a kind if intimidating woman, and very reliable at her jobs.

miku- striped hyena. just an average young escapee living in the undercity, although she doesnt try to blend in very well. ever since she got her hands on some hair dye shes been stubbornly sticking to the faded and grown out color, she thinks shes cool with it. friends with a couple humans who seem completely unbothered by her animal traits

luka- ibex. an escapee from the outer city workshops who decided to move to the undercity... and never really settles down anywhere. she likes to wander from place to place, experiencing the great expanse of the city from its depths. shes got her favorite places to come back to, but more than anything, shes always on the move to see something new.

kaito and the kagamines are humans (the kagamines are mikus human friends!) which is why theyre not here 👍

and thats everyone! apologies this is a monster of a post, but i hope youve enjoyed reading. and hopefully its semi coherent lol

[shion-yu]

Day 12: Broken bones (alt)

Shu and Alex drabble for @medwhumpmay. Takes place directly before day three and a much longer companion piece from Shu’s POV will be coming for day 28! TW: major domestic abuse. Alex is 17 here.

Shu didn't used to walk with a limp, but getting your leg broken at the age of forty isn't the same as if he were a teenager. It heals slowly, really slowly, as do the TBI and orbital fracture he suffered the same day. The day he broke up with Julian; the day Julian tried to kill him.

It's hard for Shu to remember much about that day, whether it's because of trauma or the extent of his injuries. But Alex remembers it very well - better than he wishes he could. It was the day he saw his father lying in the ground no more able to defend himself than a baby. It was the day he beat Julian half to death, then sobbed with Shu in his arms until the ambulance came. There was no time for explanations. Shu and then Julian were whisked off to the hospital, and Alex remained in the back of a police car unsure if he'd just blown his chance at an adult life outside of a jail cell. He’d told Ryo he wanted to do better than his parents had, but maybe it just wasn’t possible.

Thankfully, the police were inclined to believe Alex's story, namely because Shu was in a worse, far more intentional state of injury than Julian was. Julian had practically tortured him and his body told a story of a year of abuse: half healed injuries and bruises that were in all stages scattered about his body. Unhealed rib fractures and accounts from Shu’s work colleagues in his favor (Julian’s colleagues seemed to vouch only for his skill as a doctor, not as a person). The worst damage was from being thrown down the stairs at an incredible force. Shu's left femur had snapped, his skull fractured.

Alex felt a sense of responsibility when he realized Shu had been being beaten. His father always seemed so calm and kind, the polar opposite of someone Alex associated with violence. He wasn’t like the men who his mother had brought home, or his father’s clients, so rough around the edges or high out of their minds. Shu seemed like someone he could trust to know better. Alex felt now that he should have paid better attention, but he'd been so focused on his music with Elliot and his relationship with Ryo that he took Shu's for granted. Plus they’d had a big fight - over Julian and the music, but mostly Julian - and Alex had stayed at Ryo’s for the past month prior to cool off. When he finally came home, he walked in on Shu to see him studying the enormous, blossoming bruise on his abdomen in the mirror.

"Tell me who did it," Alex had said, seeing red. “It was Julian, wasn’t it?” It wasn't the kind of bruise one could get by accident, and they both knew it. Even so, Shu attempted to go through many excuses before Alex forced it out of him: it was Julian. Julian had been hitting him for months now.

Alex told Shu to get in the car, they were going to see Julian and Alex was going to make sure they never saw each other again. He couldn't hold back his disgust when Shu actually hesitated, tried to say it wasn't usually this bad.

"If Ryo was like him, you'd never let me spend another day with him," Alex pointed out angrily. Shu couldn't argue with that. "It's him or me - Julian, or me."

"At least let me do it," Shu said, eyes filled with tears and guilt. "You wait in the car. I promise I’ll end things for good."

Alex told Shu he had ten minutes. If he wasn't back in the car by then, he'd come in. He set a timer. And when he entered Julian's house after it went off, there was Shu, beaten and bloody at the bottom of the staircase with his leg splayed in the most unnatural position.

He doesn't remember much about beating Julian, not the details of it anyways. It was a blind rage he hadn't felt in years, and even then this was so much stronger. He cornered Julian in his bedroom and before he knew it, Alex had destroyed him. And quite possibly, himself if the courts didn’t agree.

[purrpletiger]

Do you have any canon facts about Fresh? You seem like you know about him a lot so I wanted to ask :')

Sure! If you'd like to know something specific you can ask, but here's some commonly misunderstood aspects of his character.

He doesn't kill his hosts. He leaves them in a weakened state when he's done with them but their soul can recover over time. it's possible for them to get possessed by him again.

He talks using his host. He doesn't have his own voice and as a parasite separate from a host he can't talk, so his voice will only sound like his host's with a different tone. Though it's totally possible but not confirmed that he has a way of mentally talking to his host, it is confirmed that he can hear his host mentally. (He can hear his host in their mind so maybe they can hear him?)

Fresh isn't a disease, a virus, or an infection. He's a heckin parasite, he can only possess one person at a time. He has to physically go into a body and control it. His host's personality doesn't change him at all unless he's trying to pretend to be them, because he has full control. The host can fight his control to do things but this is incredibly painful and can damage their soul significantly more.

Fresh can't feel most things. Fresh lacks most emotions, he can't form emotional connections to people at all. The only things he can feel is fear, a tiny hint of sadism(Meaning seeing people in pain or distress brings him joy), and rarely anger over things he doesn't understand. The fear of death is a natural instinct, as a living creature he wants to survive and continue to live. His joy in suffering of others is a learned feeling, because his entire existence is causing pain, over time his mind has formed a connection, other's pain = his gain, his gain = his survival, him surviving = him feeling content. (His sadism is a very small and muted happiness, it'd be barely amusement to someone with a full range of emotions, but to him it's everything because it's the only way he feels good) The anger over things he doesn't understand was only canonically triggered by one thing, and it was someone sacrificing their life to save someone else. He was so angry someone would do that, because everything he knows is survival, and throwing your own life away is infuriatingly stupid to him, it's too different from his core understanding of life (this only happens when he starts to unlock more emotions like companionship tho).

Fresh is an asexually reproducing parasite. He has no idea of romance, sex, or even the complexities of gender. He doesn't understand love, or any of that. He's physically incapable of basically anything sexual. He does asexually create other parasites tho, he can do this intentionally as seen during Freshmageddon, where he spent three days making more parasites. He will do some things seen as romantic, like kissing, because he doesn't understand the romantic connection and finds the reactions people have funny

Fresh feels everything physical his host body feels. I see stuff in the fandom all the time where Fresh possesses a host and gets them severely injured but doesn't care… This is the opposite of accurate. Fresh can feel everything his host feels physically, but to a lesser extent… and I'd think pain/injury freaks him out because it'd remind him of his fear of death. I don't think he can feel damage inflicted to their soul though, because otherwise possessing people and damaging their soul over time would really suck!

Sometime I'll make a Fresh doc exploring all the aspects of his character with all the source posts from CQ to back it up :]

[im-an-insane-man-lover]

Okay this is really long and absolute yappery just. I NEED to shove this out somewhere besides with my pookie

So I think like a few people know who Alexi is??? Right, my silly until dawn oc. Him and Mack (or Moose) are me and my friends silly ud ocs right

I'm focusing more on these sillies than Alexi IN ud so I'm yapping about them !!! Because they're so silly

To the 3 people (pookie and like. Idk other goobers) who might read this tell me if you want more yapping of them because they're infecting my brain rn and I want me and pookie to yap more

ALSO INCLUDING SOME DOODLES AND DRAWING BY POOKIE!!! @roverthegoober

GOLLY I love these guys..... a LARGE portion is just like angst or the aftermath of the ud events

Two goobers meeting in early middle school only over the fact Alexi was asking him for help on work and after that he kept bothering him. Not even for help, asking random questions, and trying to know him better.

Alexi having Mack over for a movie night, and he's either forcing him to watch some sad rom-com or all of The Thing movies and explaining the comics and lore, pointing out small details and references in or related to The Thing (its his favorite horror series? I think it counts as a series right)

Like after the events of ud (saying everyone lives ending), they're both screwed up, but Mack had suffered from tbi (traumatic brain injury). Alexi is also suffering, obviously. Half his face is still messed up, his arm and hand are, but he doesn't have severe head injury (facial yeah, but erm... not head or brain, yknow)

Alexi isn't making any efforts to talk to anyone else (the group, not REALLY his family except if it's his brother, which is unlikely), but he's talking to Mack. Only talking to Mack, even if they're both struggling and trying to recover, he's literally worried sick about him and not metaphorically (because his anxiety is increased tenfold now)

Depending on how severe the tbi is, Mack COULD have memory issues with recalling what went on that night and everything that happened (long-term memory loss, he'd also struggle to remember how to do this or that and what this is etc). So Alexi is just dumbfounded.

Alexi can remember everything perfectly fine, and he just can't grasp that the person closest to him can't?? He can't go to Mack for any questions on what happened, how he got injured (at least for the injuries he wasn't present for, or Mack already told him after) and he can't go to him for any reassurance and comfort.

He's just in shock because he is ABSOLUTELY NOT going to confide in someone else, like family or a friend, because you have to be so insanely close to this guy for him to trust you to that extent.

So, over the years, he's sticking with Mack since he still remembers him, but not completely. He can't recall facts about him or moments that happened between them, and its not completely Mack.

ANYWAYS, IM GONNA LEAVE THAT THERE BC I DONT WANNA YAP ABOUT SAD SHIT ALL IN THIS POST

Don't come after me for anything that's not super medically accurate. Im not a doctor or anything. im just spit balling to get an idea out. Like Mack would probably have different symptoms and stuff, but this is just for silly fun for our ocs and I just wanna be silly 😞😞 this is literally just for fun so don't come at me with a pitchfork and mob

More art giggles

I love these guys I need them dead

Alexi was almost a theater kid, but he was too scared to because of his anxiety, but he still really wanted to try singing (he wasn't exactly too big on the dancing portion). He only did a few times at his house in his room, but his mom caught on and offered to get him a personal vocal coach (or trainer, idk the exact title).

So he CAN sing somewhat, but it's been a bit since he has, and he definitely isn't telling that to just anyone. Mack only found this out when they jokingly had a karaoke night, and Alexi didn't suck at singing

Also, if anybody is confused about why he has red hair, sometimes it's because his natural hair color is red, but he dyes it black. His older brother has black hair, and he was really close with him, and so around the start of high school, he started to dye it a bit to try it, and eventually he just ended up doing it completely and making it a routine.

Mack helps him dye it sometimes, but that's not often since he isn't the super best at it..... helps with getting Alexi what he needs mainly

OKAY THATS ALLLL !!!!! IM GONNA try to finish drawing Mack and Alexi as Paul and Sam from TGWDLM and sleep...

[naradivision]

“Happy Birthday!

I don’t know if this present will get to you in time, but I think it’s only fair I return the favor after the presents I got from you for my birthday a while back! I was told you wanted to speak with me but I haven’t gotten to meet with you since then! Do stop by my office, we can meet up and have a talk if you’re still up for it! Hope you had a great birthday!

Regards,

Anika Kiyozaki from Akihabara Division”

With a smile, Yuuya Kanata closed the letter that had been taped to the outside of the package that had just been delivered on his front doorstep.

Last he remembered, he had been curious about the uncanny similarity of his and Kiyozaki-san’s eyes. The package that was now sitting in his living room brought it back to his attention.

Shaking his head with a smile, he peered into the package that was delivered to him.

Inside was a—

…

What the heck?

Inside were multiple goose statues, the beaks being magnetic and able to hold various items such as keys, knives for the kitchen, and several more.

Let it be known that if there was anything the hypnotherapist of Akihabara loved, it was gag or prank gifts.

“Woah, look at what got here human! Are you going to adopt these lovely goosey goosey ganders?!”

Exclaiming excitedly at Anika’s presents was ANGE the high-definition digital girl who was now floating on Yuuya’s television screen.

And as if the previous awkward moment between them had never happened, she let out an airy giggle, drawing a soft smile from the birthday boy who was now busy bringing stuffs he got from townspeople into his living room.

“Goosey, you say? At first I thought they were ducks. But welp, these two birdies are way too similar. I can’t really differentiate them from one another.”

Joking a bit about the goose vs duck paradox, Yuuya was just returning home from his personal errand to deliver presents to other divisions.

Because much to one’s surprise, there were few acquaintances who were coincidentally sharing the same birthday with him. However, he didn’t expect the townsfolk to give him this many gifts during his way back home. It was always very nice of them; his hometown’s people, their hospitality had never failed to make him feel touched ever since he was a lot younger. And that was one of the reasons why he had tried so hard to keep his hometown unscathed from whoever’s exploitation.

Hot and humid, the first summer draft was slipping through the balcony and bringing along the warm and woody scent from his father’s room to his senses.

And even if today was meant to be the longest day of the year, now looked like the sun had been shifting lower and lower toward the horizon.

Suddenly swarmed by emotions, the birthday boy gazed at the distant evening sky that bore the same shade as his eyes.

…That’s right, his birthday used to be so lonely since he usually spent it alone mourning. But somehow this year was shaping up to be a bit different.

His smile softened as he could hear his chatty companion explored each of his presents with sparkling enthusiasm.

“Tee-hee, couldn’t believe that the meme ANGE stumbled upon on the internet one day would be actually brought to life! This lady you called Kiyozaki-san has got a great taste! Humans sure are being creative~”

—And well, he was glad to see her being back to her energetic self again.

Earlier she seemed to be oddly quiet that he felt somewhat frustrated she might be mad at him. Together with Ojou-chan, she had always been the liveliest voice in his home.

“Oh. And to think about it, Kiyozaki-san did tell me to give her a visit sometimes too. Hmmm, perhaps I should drop by her clinic whenever I get a chance to go around Akihabara…”

From what extent he knew about this Kiyozaki-san beside her being the leader of Pixel Syndicate was that she had been once a high-rise racer but now turning over to become a specific type of professional therapist after suffering grave injuries from a certain accident in her past. What’s more? She was also the current guardian figure to Setsukura-san, one of his underclassmen at his old school! So, that was probably why he could feel the mature-ish comforting vibe to her despite her rather mischievous streak judging from her choice of gifts.

And while there might be some barrier of communication in between them according to her partial loss of hearing, this couldn’t make him less interested in learning more about sign language.

Still, Kiyozaki-san’s motive in joining the D.R.B. remained quite unclear to him.

Though her background sounded like she was a fame seeker in the past, some part of him believed she was also exhausted with all that stuff as she had changed into her new career to help people, hence she might as well have another reason to sign in this suspicious tournament aside from seeking either its prize or glory… Actually, it would be a blatant lie that the majority of participants did join it without some kind of hidden agenda —He himself even had one of his own.

But if you ask him what about her that caught on his curiosity the most, the answer was undoubtedly her eyes: the sunset color, the unique scheme he had never seen anyone with this same shade so far except…

His sister, his nice and kind nee-san whom he had never seen in years

And damn it, before he could grasp a hold of his emotions, his sickening nostalgia began to striked up. He was well aware that Kiyozaki-san was obviously different person from his sister, yet she strongly reminded him of her.

His nice and kind nee-san… Just where are you now?

There were too many things he was always yearning to hear from her but sadly never got a chance to.

…How has she been up to this present? Is her new family being nice to her? Is city life that great compared to here? Is there anything she wants to tell him, her only little brother? Any story she would love to tell like she always does when they were young? Or literally, any, anything. Or at very least, he wanted to ask her if she perhaps got bored of his calls… Also, what about mom? Has she… even smiled more than when she was still with him?

A stream of feelings stirring up inside his chest, the sunset gleam in his eyes wavered like a fickle light dancing on the ripples. But before he got more indulged into his own turmoil, Yuuya sharply inhaled.

…Nah, just kidding, there was no time for him to be sad.

Thinking as such, the boy who had now grown older as a young man wiped the evidence of his emotions off the corner of his eyes and stood up.

…His clubmates had just called him that they were gonna throw a karaoke party for him this dinner. Hi-chan was also attending. That old man was probably not coming, but he was already grateful for him to keep his promise on sponsoring his education up to this present. And on top of everything, he was finally graduated and now was one step closer to his dream. Therefore, he should be happy. He had got to be. There was no way he wasn’t… He wasn’t a lonely little brother who was in need of some pampering anymore.

Suppressing his pathetic self deep down the bottom of his heart, Yuuya let out a long sigh. He still had a project needed to be done anyway, and yeah —This must be the best way to keep himself distracted for a while.

However, unbeknownst to him,

A pair of bright red eyes were kept watching after his back with a bewildered look…

—Thanks for the gifts! And sorry for getting late lmao

[secretceremonials]

i analysed the cassandra myth from a modern english and welsh legal perspective because i’m drunk, bored, and procrastinating (maybe this will be a good revision exercise? 

Apollo v Cassandra: Breach of contract

i want to preface this by saying that i don’t fully study contract until next year, so i’m not going into detail here. apollo and cassandra do enter a verbal contract to provide the gift of prophecy for the service of sex (if we go with that version, which is my go to), so cassandra may well be liable for her breach. i would argue that this contract had unfair terms however, making it void to the extent of those terms. again, i don’t know enough about this to say for sure. 

Cassandra v Apollo: maliciously administering poison 

i don’t see any reason why apollo’s saliva that causes casssandra not to be believed can’t be interpreted as poison (we have case law of HIV infected semen being treated in this way). following this logic, his spitting can be viewed as maliciously administering poison, contrary to either section 23 or 24 of the offences against the person act 1861. for a section 23 offence, the defendant must intend to cause grievous bodily harm or endanger life. i’m not really sure that applies here, although cassandra’s mental state is possibly bad enough to constitute grievous bodily harm, it may be difficult to prove that apollo intended to cause this. section 24 would therefore be easier. this section simply requires intention to injure, aggrieve, or annoy. intention to punish would absolutely fall under here, i think. 

failing that, spitting on people without consent is a battery, so we definitely have a civil route if not a criminal one. it is worth noting that it absolutely is possible to pursue an action on the basis of the intentional infliction of emotional distress. injury does not have to be physical.

Cassandra v Ajax: rape or battery, depending on your favoured myth

In some versions of the myth, Ajax rapes Cassandra in the temple of athena as the city falls. in others, he drags her away in a massive breach of sanctuary laws. which version you prefer will alter what wrong has been committed.

If she is raped, it is... rape. crazy, i know. the statutory definition of rape is the penile penetration of another without consent or without a reasonable belief in their consent (sexual offences act 2003, section 1), which is what occurs here. they have sex, cassandra absolutely does not consent. easy.

if she isn’t raped, there is still a wrong, albeit probably a tort rather than a crime. the tort of battery is committed when an individual intentionally (or recklessly) touches another without consent. obviously this happens here. assault is likely as well. this occurs when the defendant does something to make the victim think they are about to directly and involuntary apply force on their body. this probably happens, but we don’t have enough detail to know for sure. we can maybe convict him of a crime instead, but this depends on what injuries cassandra acquires. i think it is likely enough that she would suffer actual bodily harm (a bruise or worse- we know the attack was violent), but grievous bodily harm is unlikely. If she suffers actual bodily harm, this is common assault, contrary to s47 of the offences against the person act 1861. 

Cassandra v Agamemnon: unlawful imprisonment

because slavery is illegal and i am completely ignoring historical context here, agamemnon most likely unlawfully imprisons cassandra. false imprisonment is confining an individual to a restricted area without their consent and without lawful justification. the only issue with proving this would be that i’m not sure if cassandra is really confined to a limited space? but presumably she has to stay around agamemnon? i think it counts.

Cassandra v Agamemnon: rape

it goes without saying that, in modern law, slavery is illegal. so, for the sake of simplicity, i’m going to continue arguing that cassandra’s enslavement is akin to unlawful imprisonment. obviously, keeping someone as a concubine without consent is very illegal, but we’ll ignore that for now. 

bearing that in mind, it is probable (but not certain) that Agamemnon rapes cassandra. As we have already seen, the definition of rape in the sexual offences act 2003 is the penile penetration of another without their consent, or without a reasonable belief in consent. as cassandra does, in some versions, have children, I am going to assume that her and agamemnon have sex. so now the question is consent. 

In section 75 of the sexual offences act, evidential presumptions about non-consent pop up in some cases. the effect of these presumptions is that non-consent is assumed, unless the defendant can provide some evidence that is “More than merely fanciful and speculative” that the alleged victim did in fact consent. one case where this occurs is when the alleged victim was wrongfully imprisoned by the defendant at the time of the incident. this means that agamemnon would have to provide some evidence of cassandra’s consent before a full trial would occur. this isn’t a particularly high bar, but it is something. 

we don’t know enough about cassandra’s state of mind to know whether she consented (she did consent to the marriage in Euripides’ trojan women, and until 1992, marriage was taken as an express form of consent- not super relevant, but interesting anyway), and honestly, given the context, agamemnon may have had a reasonable (in his culture) belief in her consent. obviously now we would not assume that a woman would consent to a man who took her from her home and family, but bear in mind that this is the bronze age. i’m also not sure if we should apply the reasonableness standard of a reasonable man today or a reasonable one then? recklessness is also subjectively measured now anyway, so he may not even have been reckless as to her non-consent.

Cassandra v Clytemnestra: murder

okay, this one is probably the easiest. In (basically) every version of the myth, Clytemnestra kills Cassandra. murder is the killing of another with the intent to cause death or grievous bodily harm. Clytemnestra intends to kill Cassandra. She does so. It’s murder, she will really struggle to access a defence here. There is no self-defence or necessity present. There may be some grounds for a partial defence of provocation as she is faced with her sexual rival, but I honestly doubt there is enough of this to warrant a manslaughter verdict. 

Conclusion

Cassandra deserves a break. i hope you enjoyed my silly little law exercise :)

[dannyfm]

[ jonathan bailey, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! JASPER ‘JACK’ TOMKINS just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for TEN YEARS, working as a MODEL / OWNER OF GLOW. that can’t be easy, especially at only 35 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit RESTLESS and STUBBORN, but i know them to be GENIAL and DILIGENT. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (penny, 24, gmt, she/her, none)

fullname:  jasper henry tomkins. nickname(s): jack ( used by everyone ), jas ( usually just close friends / family ), jasp ( uncommonly used ). age:  thirty-five. birthday: july 6th. gender / pronouns:  cis man ,  he / him. orientation:  homosexual / homoromantic. place of birth: oxford, england. current residence: 'vintage' loft apartment, brooklyn. height: 5'9. personality: considerate, pragmatic, evasive, self-critical.

born and raised in oxford jasper's parents were both teachers ( mum of biology & dad of history ) and he the youngest of three, with an older brother & sister. while his siblings followed in the academic path set by their parents, jasper was consumed by a love for ballet from a young age.

he attended the royal ballet school for several years thanks to bursaries, but at eighteen suffered a back injury that had to be treated with surgery and though he mostly recovered ( it still plays up every now and then ) but decided then it wasn't the career path for him.

so he started a degree in music and drama at university and ended up doing some modelling for fellow students in fashion and photography. with their encouragement & his family's, he built a portfolio and approached several agencies. he began part time work straight away ; dribs and drabs here and there, but enough for jack to find a real passion.

dropped out of uni and struggled through a few years of ups and downs ( mainly downs ) in london. his luck started to turn at 23 and this prompted his move to new york two years later. the ups and downs ratio slowly shifted towards more of the former and at 26 he booked his first real editorial shoot in an issue of harper's bazaar.

after this he started earning regularly in editorial and commercial fashion; enough to move from his first dingy brooklyn apartment and start saving. his ownership of glow came completely out of nowhere ; jasper would never dream of being a business owner. until, of course, a club space not far from his home became available. it is maybe the most impulsive thing he's ever done and for sure he has stress dreams about it since taking ownership with a friend ( maybe a wc ?? ) two years ago, but it's done and glow is now his baby. he still models & loves it of course, but channels most of his energy into glow.

it was always going to be an lgbtq+ space and it had been a club before, so that was a pretty easy decision. but it's by no means just a club. downstairs is only open from the evening and is the designated club space ( though there are alcohol-free & relaxed nights even in the club ), but upstairs is a much more relaxed space with a bar and cafe capabilities. jack really wants it to become a community hub of sorts.

headcanons

is probably a relatively mid to high-level model. he's had his fair share of shoots in popular magazines / work with well-known brands so recognisable to an extent, but not considered a supermodel or a household name, really.

supports local small businesses ( esp queer ones ) at any chance, whether in the club or through investment, sponsorship, whatever. he has money ( like, a good amount of it ) & kinda status for the first time in his life so is always trying to find ways to share it out and make sure as many people benefit as possible.

has been known to randomly appear at the club's karaoke night and take part. usually a wham! song or never gonna give you up if he's feeling funny. if he's not modelling, he can usually be found at glow, obsessing over one thing or the other and being a typical perfectionist / stress head overthinking things.

bubbly af ; just wants to be friends with everyone. lowkey golden retriever energy. some people-pleasing tendencies but he's getting better since being in business and realising that sometimes it's very important to say no.

a dreadfully hopeless romantic. his dating history has, like his career, had many ups and downs. still firmly believes in love and the idea of settling down with 'the one' which has been his most recent dating goal though he's fallen out of the scene a lot with being so busy.

i'm building a wee plots page here but it's bare af & i would frankly lay down my life for any plots at all