#if i see one more bitch with runes on their face

[xartus]

Here's some reconstructions ACTUALLY based on historical findings of Viking Age female divinatory ritual specialists!!!!! See how they look NOT like the previous post!!!!

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 16

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15

• ··········· • ············ •

“Are you coming in or not?” He didn’t move as he spoke, and with a deep breath, you walked into the elevator.

You didn’t care for Rictus, not that he ever did you much harm personally, but you had heard the stories. Caitlyn would tell about how he ‘interrogated’ Zaunites, and you'd begged her to say something. Stop him, stop Ambessa. At one point you'd ask her if releasing the gray wasn't enough, and that got you the silent treatment for a while. He was loyal to the general and her ways, and unless the universe had given him the ‘broom-closet’ treatment, he was probably the same asshole.

The doors closed with a cheerful ping, and you stared straight ahead at your blurred reflection in the golden metal. You started to pray to whoever was listening for this to be a quiet and quick ride, but when you saw his reflection move, turning slightly towards you, you knew the elevator was the gods’ blind spot.

“What was the color?” He asked, his tone smug about something you weren’t yet privy to. “Excuse me?” You didn’t fully look at him, just tilted your head slightly towards him. “The rune…what was the color?" You could feel his grin as the words came out.

Son of a bitch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You turned back to stare in front of you with a deep sigh of annoyance coming out of you. “I know those distant looks into the void.” He straightened up too, grasping his hands in front of him. He wasn't trying to be menacing, but his weight alone was enough for him to be threatening no matter what he was doing. “In the beginning, it’s all very telling. The long stares into nothingness, the twitches when something gasps behind you. It’s all the same…”

There was no joking tone or sympathy in his voice, just knowledge. You supported the most blank expression you could muster as there was no sympathy in your eyes when you looked at his profile.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You punctuated every word, and he chuckled, his metal armor moving to the mocking sound.

“Was it Green? Golden? Blue? Purple?” He looked back at you, and the shattering sound started to reappear.

Apparently whatever micro-expression you gave him was enough for him to figure out as a grin spread across his face.

“Purple? Chaos then? Interesting…”

You looked at his expression with a scowl. It was more than obvious whatever you'd tell him was going to go straight out of your mouth into Ambessa’s ear. And yet he seemed to be the most knowledgeable person about actual magic. So the scowl was mixed with an eye roll of annoyance.

“What about it?” You looked back to your reflection. 

“Those don’t show up often.” You kept your mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. "The Arcane doesn't trust us with those runes." "Us?" "Imperfect beings." His tone showing a displeasure at that description. "We cannot be trusted with chaos, because we like to jump into the dark waters without thinking of the consequences."

A moment of silence passed between you two. Somewhere in the back of your mind, another voice talked to you about imperfections and how it should be a priority of all beings to become their most perfect self. Now that you thought about it, the whole spiel made sense. He was a version of the Arcane.

“What would happen if I were to use it?” You side-eyed him; he tilted his head towards you much like you did before. "I suggest using it on someone you don't like." He looked at you smugly.

You looked at him straight in the eye, face blank, eyes on fire, a predatory grin unconsciously showing on your face. You saw the wall behind him start to shatter just like a window in the lab.

The arrogance on his features quickly disappeared. His shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. He wasn’t the only one who could read body signals. He was readying himself for something. The door pinged, and he took a step forward.

“You’d be dead before you finished speaking the rune.” he said as he passed by you.

That was enough for you to know the purple chaos rune was something even Rictus didn’t want to deal with.

• ············ •

After four or five weeks of popping into this dimension, the mystery was over: you finally found out what your mother’s commission to the lab was. It was a small machine that would be able to read out loud any document it scanned.

You brought a new couch to the lab at the beginning of the week. It was made from the same material as the armchairs on the penthouse's veranda. The shine in Viktor’s eyes could have lit up a dark room, as Jayce groaned.

“Thank you…now he’s never going home.” He had said. “He is. Mom is sending another one to his apartment.” You’d retorted.

After that, Viktor promised to make 'The Reader' his priority.

And that brought you to the lab, waiting for Viktor to finish something on the invention as you sat on the upholstery.

You understood at the moment the appeal of that cushioning, melting into it as Viktor turned his stool to you, placing the goggles on his forehead, his disheveled hair making him look like a mad scientist.

“I think we can try to make it work…Hopefully it will work,” he said, tilting his head to the side, looking at it with doubt, his hand going to the hairs on the back of his head.

“Explain to me again what it does.” You pointed your eyes gazing at the weird contraption.

You’d seen some beautiful things come from this lab in your timeline. This, though? ...was not it. Even though both men kept promising to make it look nice, the skeleton of the machine was nightmarish. 

It had four long legs that came out of a funnel-like tube. The end of the tube had a glass lens with four little prongs to secure the hex gem on it, and two small speaker cones finished up the structure. It looked like a spider playing two tiny trumpets.

“Well…” he cleared his throat and pointed to the metal structure. “We call it 'The Reader' because, well, that is what it does." "Did you name it?" You joked, and he looked at you, rolling his eyes pointedly. "Maybe..." He gave you a grin and went back to the explanation. "You put a paper with something written on this side.”

He grabbed a small piece of paper, wrote something on it, and placed it on the lower part of the thing.

“And then you turn the switch.” He flipped a little metallic switch, and the hex gem shined, a ring of arcane symbols floating around it. 

A blue cone of light came from the lens and reflected on the page; a small, brighter rune shined, and a line of brighter light from the cone traced the letters. After a few seconds, a noise that sounded like a record scratch started to come out of the speakers.

“Hello, I am Viktor.” The machine whirred, and a very mechanical Viktor voice came out of the machine.

It was far more similar to the Herald’s voice than you’d expect, and for a moment you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You blinked slowly, trying to stop the spiral about to start.

“I can change the voice…” Viktor interrupted your silence. You looked up at his cringing expression. “I don’t think my accent helps with the clarity of the reading.”

“It’s a perfectly good accent if you ask me.” You blurted out, your mind still a little light. "And if you're going to try and somehow use it in the Undercity, perhaps a familiar accent would help."

"Has your mother told you the purpose of the machine?" He asked, turning to you in his stool, knees bumping into yours.

"It's my mother's project. A project that you are overseeing. The target audience is very easy to guess." You shrugged and leaned back into the couch.

“I don't know if I like being that obvious with my intentions.” Viktor's had a joking tone, and you snorted. 

Without another word, he turned the page over on the small table under the lens and flipped the switch again. The cone of blue light came over the text, and the small bright line started to trace the letters again.

A very stoic and misplaced Viktor voice came from the invention, this time sounding more comical than threatening since it was clear that the hex gem was trying to add sounds together unnaturally.

“This is the letter A.” It said, and you started to have difficulty controlling the laughter, the chuckles and snorts becoming hard to swallow. “It can be read as apple or nation. It can—

The runes started to move faster around the hex gem, and the sound coming from the speakers became distorted, much like a record player replaying a damaged part of a vinyl record.

“It can—hello—Letter A—read as I’m—Apple—Viktor—Nation.” It repeated a string of nonsensical words as it started to die down. You both looked at each other. Viktor with a concerned look, you with a humorous one. “I’m Vikt-or nation…Hello, Viktor, or nation”

The sound warbled out into silence. You sucked your lips, trying to stop the fit of laughter, but it was inevitable. You saw Viktor's chest shake, and a small string of laughter came out.

“It may need a few adjustments!” Viktor scratched the back of his neck. “Just a few?” “Yes. Well, last time I worked on it, no sound would come out. This is progress. Sort of…” He touched the machine with a screwdriver, and the thing went back to its incoherent speech, grabbing words from the paper and jumbling them together in an incoherent form.

You got back to laughing until Viktor detached the hex gem from its place, the machine dying without another sound.

“I don’t think you’re getting there with a few adjustments.” You looked at both the invention and the inventor with your head.

Viktor gave you an annoyed look, grabbed the metal spider machine, placed it carefully on his workstation, and started to tinker with the machine once again.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

[ogdegenerate]

I’m back bitches

Werewolf x BAMF Human thingy prt2

I know it’s been 5 months idgaf

Here’s the link for the first part of y’all care

* It’s been a hot minute since your last meeting with the black wolf. And ever since, he won’t leave your thoughts, to your annoyance.

* And annoying it is, you have a bunch of acquaintances, and maybe even some friends, but they don’t really LINGER in your mind once they’re out of sight.

* Maybe you’re just worried for the werewolf? He was badly injured when you first found him.

* Although that would be unlikely, it would take a lot to take down a huge beast like him, and whoever (or whatever) damaged the alpha was most likely dealt with already.

* Maybe the werewolf is still in your thoughts is because of how possibly strong they are?

* You were always the strongest person everybody knew in your hometown. And maybe you’re just not used to someone bigger and conceivably stronger than you.

* And you weren’t very nice when you saw them again, despite everything, you are happy that he’s doing alright.

* But it’s been weeks and the forest is silent, no surprise werewolf interaction or little offering of meat, not even a little hello?

* This shouldn’t bother you, and yet you can’t help but feel…. Bad.

* Maybe a walk would clear up your head.

* Well this is a bizarre turn of events.

* What once was a quick walk into anywhere else but your cabin, transformed into carrying ANOTHER injured werewolf.

* And not just some random werewolf, the BLONDE ONE. With his friends accompanying me back to their village.

* Wherever it is.

* Once you finally got there, you can’t help but feel like you stepped into some sort of fantasy novel.

* With how lively and suspiciously big the place is, you’d figure that you’d accidently wander in here.

* But questions are for future you to ask to a figure in power. This pup needs some first aid and pronto!

* You and the wolves enter into some small building where you see a green wolf with very questionable fashion choices.

* They’re wearing a skull with antlers on their face decorated with owl feathers

* Their cloak and long skirt(?) are made out of various fabrics ranging from so many colors and textures it would give anyone in the art field a NIGHTMARE.

* And there’s a bunch of jewelry and undecipherable runes on their arms and shoulders.

* The green wolf clops (clops????) towards us and takes the badly damaged blondie without even acknowledging my existence.

* Apparently that’s normal for the witch doctor (as the other two stooges call him) to act like that

* I can’t help but notice that the witch doctor is shorter than most werewolves I’ve seen so far.

* Nevertheless the doctor is still well sculpted as much as the other werewolf and they’re still taller than me.

* THERES MAGIC????

* The green wolf stared mixing up from obscure stuff in a flask and splashed it on the blonde wolf, the wounds glowed a mixture of blue and green and shrunken to an unnatural pace.

* The witch doctor says that Fakhr (the name of blondie over here) will be alright but he shouldn’t do any intense for a day or two.

* Before you can even find your voice again, the witch doctor gallops over to the the elephant in the room (you)

* They bombard you with very invasive questions in quick succession, you can’t even answer a single one before the good doctor asks you three more.

* “Are you really a human?” “The same human that can throw an entire tree across the earth?” “How are you so strong?” “Is this an enchantment?” “What kind of enchantment?” “May I have some of your blood?” “How is your relationships with your parents?” “Are THEY human?” “Are you running from someone?” “Is that why you’re living in the forest?” “What’s do you like about the forest?” “You are a male at birth, correct?” “How do you feel about carrying a child?” “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a uterus, I can figure out something if you’d like?”

* Thankfully, Arda and Rajat (the brown and silver werewolf respectively, thanks Fakhr.) tell the green wolf that you should be really getting back to your cabin.

* And it really isn’t such a bad idea, you are in an unknown place with beings you only figured out existed almost a month ago and they might not have your best interest in mind.

* But you’re feeling petty. You now have a shot at finding a certain black wolf and you might not get a second chance again.

* It takes the three 7 ft wolves a few minutes to get you out of the door of Heka’s (the witch doctor) workplace.

* Fakhr made it very known that it would’ve been much quicker if he wasn’t supposed to be recovering.

* Moving you on dirt is much harder than moving you on wood, your boots are sinking into the ground and pulling you up is like pulling a house by its hinges.

* In an outside perspective, the entire situation may be even comical. Three werewolves, struggling to move a human a little less than 6 feet tall.

* But here you are, rooted into the ground, arms crossed, visibly annoyed. People may mistake you for a statue with how stiff and unbending you are.

* Heka (bless their soul) unintentionally draws up more of an audience by panicking all around you and the three were-stooges.

* The good doctor alternates between nagging at Fakhr for overworking himself, asking you more invasive but reverent questions, and telling the growing crowd to mind their business (but in a professional way).

* The whole scene devolves into the four begging you to just leave before this draws the attention of you-know-who

* What the fuck? What happened to the sun?

* …..oh

* Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

* You don’t know how you end up in the alpha’s house.

* If this even is the alpha’s house, you figured that someone who demands authority would have a much bigger and fancier house???

* I guess vanity isn’t that important with werewolves.

* You managed to save the other wolves gooses from being cooked through the power of conversation.

* And by conversation, it was more like you yelling an earful at the 8 foot beast with too much muscle before they could even get a word in.

* You really should stop doing that, but everytime you see him, you start feeling too many emotions in an overstimulating succession that you might die from thermal-shock.

* But regardless, you finally got what you wanted, some one on one time with the alpha.

* But with you both are sitting, it’s almost feels like being sent to the principal’s office.

* But who’s the one in power and who’s the one in trouble?

* The silence from the alpha would be unnerving if he wasn’t everywhere but you.

* He’s the one who dragged you here (you followed him), do you really need to be the first to strike up conversation?

* You point out the old bandages around his arms and torso, they look like they need to be replaced.

* The black wolf informs you that the bandages are fine and that he’s still wounded.

* Of course you know that’s bullshit because you just left Heka’s place, and they wouldn’t be a good witch doctor if they just left the ALPHA of all people to just heal normally.

* So when you ask if you could see how the wounds are holding up, he looks at you as if you caught them elbow deep in the cookie jar (or I guess the biscuit jar???)

* This is going nowhere, it’s either the bandages or his arms.

* You’re fast, but he’s faster. For someone so bulky, he’s slippery and quick on their feet.

* You waste more time you would like playing cat and mouse with a wolf almost three feet bigger than you.

* As you chase the wolf around the messy house, failing to grasp this giant shadowy figure almost makes you think that this wolf is made out nothing but darkness.

* Fortunately for you, the wolf’s luck runs out as he slips on a piece of paper on the ground.

* Always keep your house tidy, kids!

* Before the wolf could crash onto the ground, you manage to catch him by the torso, securing both of your arms behind his back.

* Now that you got a good hold on him, he’s about as heavy as a reindeer. Must take a lot of skill and energy to prance around like that while carrying so much weight.

* You and the werewolf stay like this for less than a minute, but it feels like eternity.

* You actually manage to make eye contact with the wolf. They look more human than you remember.

* His eyes aren’t glowing as they had when you first met him, but they still shimmer like newly cleaned rubies.

* You can’t help notice that the wolf is holding onto your shoulders, most likely to keep himself up.

* You gently set him down on the floor, you pin both of your knees at his hips so he won’t get away. He doesn’t struggle against you.

* You unwrap the bandages on his write arm, just as you suspected, he’s doing fine.

* You feel about the muscles on his arm, from the FPL, to the bicep, and to the tricep. Everything seems to be in order. His tricep is also fairly big, and he’s not even flexing, you think.

* You move on to the left arm, they’re pretty much symmetrical, both in form and health.

* You move the alpha’s forearm to see how the bicep stretches and squeezes, he must’ve done a lot of chin ups to get arms this big

* Suddenly, the black wolf flexes his arms and his muscles bulges into life, you’re almost taken aback with how big they’ve gotten.

* And they’re hard enough to break Brazil nuts, you can even feel the veins under all of that fur.

* Moving on, you turn to the shoulders and neck, and they’re both broad as the distance between Texas and Thailand.

* You can feel the stress and stiffness in the trapezius, so you might as well massage them while you’re here. Must be taxing work to be an alpha.

* You look up to see the werewolf’s eyes close, mouth slightly open, and tongue peaking out.

* You think you’re doing a great job.

* What seems like minutes passing, you stoped rubbing neck and shoulders and move down to the pectorals

* And what you see before are a pair of giant HAMS.

* Each one of them are bigger than both of your hands, and you thought you had a well developed chest.

* Against your better judgment, you grabbed each one of them by the underpart and pushed up.

* The alpha made a quick gasp at your sudden boldness, feeling like you stepped over a boundary too many, you let go and moved your hands away.

* But then the werewolf grabs your writs and places them back at his chest.

* Well, best not to look at a gift horse in the mouth.

* As you fondle with the wolf’s pecs, you can’t help but to be amazed at how soft yet firm they are, they’re like huge pillows of tense muscle and meat.

* The wolf’s breathing seems to be getting heavier, periodically accompanied by a quiet moan.

* After I finished playing with his pecs, I move even lower to the core.

* It’s hard to see with all of the fur in the way, but you do feel abs, and indeed they are.

* By god you can grate meat on those if there wasn’t so much fur in the way.

* I look at the werewolf, unsure if I should even be doing what I’m thinking of doing.

* He stares back at me with a look of anticipation, as if waiting for me to work my magic on him once more.

* Fuck it, if he wants to bite my face off after this, then I have no regrets.

* I start rubbing on his abs and belly, abandoning all sense and giving into my carnal desires.

* The silent and stoic werewolf is now more loud and vocal than ever.

* He raises his arms over his head, granting me full reign over his body, his head jerks side to side and the sounds coming out of his throat portrays how much he’s enjoying this.

* His groans and moans gets louder and more intense as time goes on, giving attention to his pecs and down to his sides and to his stomach again.

* The both of you are now lost in the moment, you don’t even remember why the two of you even got here in the first place, or what you were even worried about.

* A greedy squeeze on pec had the wolf shout sounds of pure ecstasy, as he thrust his hips upwards.

* That climatic occurrence was just abrupt enough to wake you from your lust filled spell.

* You look around to see what’s happening and what you’re doing and how absolutely insane you’re being.

* The wolf on the other hand was still in a trance, it’s kinda cute and weird that a giant monster could act so puppy like.

* The werewolf slowly opens his eyes and looks up at you, honestly it would be fare that the alpha wouldn’t be so happy to be taken advantaged of.

* “Why…. Did you stop?”

* …..or not.

* You don’t really want to answer that question because then you have to answer why you decided to do… whatever that was, so instead you asked a question of your own.

* “Why didn’t you come and see me?”

* The wolf looked surprised by your response, which then turned into sadness. He turned his muzzle away from you, unable to face you.

* What is even going on??????

* You sigh, and lean towards the wolf

* “Look, I’m not mad, or disappointed. I was just…. Concerned about you.”

* The werewolf looked at you swiftly, and then turn his eyes away. Before you could continue, he speaks.

* “I… didn’t know how to approach you…”

* You… have no idea what that could mean.

* “I felt very bad after I’ve eaten all of your food, you had no pack to turn to or help you out, I feared that you will starve.”

* I guess that makes sense, he was probably very hungry after almost dying, and everything in my kitchen was left unguarded.

* He is still partly a wild animal.

* “When I heard that you chased away my wolves, I almost didn’t believe it. But I wanted to make sure.”

* “I searched far and wide for that boar and killed it so I could give it to you.”

* He really did all of that? That huge mountain of pork? And he dragged it all the way to my cabin?

* “Everyone else thought that I was gonna teach you a lesson for messing with my tribe, they were really surprised when I just came to drop off food for you.”

* “Well, I’m not sure if I would win if we were to fight.”

* “But I don’t want to hurt you!”

* The werewolf sits up from the ground to face you, there’s panic, worry, and sorrow in his eyes.

* You’re taken aback how this stranger is acting very caring towards you.

* “I… well… I-“

* “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

* The werewolf’s ears perk up with your response, the gloomy feelings that once was there are now fading away

* “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking about you, and the more I’m not with you, the worse it gets.”

* What are you doing?

* “I never felt like this before, so vulnerable, so scared, so anxious. Especially for someone else who I barely know!”

* You try to reign back your feelings, but they keep flowing out of your mouth.

* “The thought of you getting hurt, the thought of never seeing you again, the thought of there’s someone out there trying to take you away from me… it’s painful. And I just-“

* You look up at the wolf who’s staring at you intently, there’s no malice of or judgement, there’s something else, something just as intense.

* You forgot what you were gonna say next.

* “Today was a long fucking day”

* The absurdity of this entire month finally dawns on you, you were so used to being the strangest person in town, and now you have to deal with werewolves and witchcraft.

* “I’m sorry for chasing you around in your own house

* “I’m sorry for ignoring you”

* “I’m sorry for yelling at you twice infront of your people.”

* “I’m sorry for stealing your food and leaving without saying anything”

* “Hey, in your defense… you were dying.”

* …..

* The both of you burst out laughing, this was a whole mess, you and this werewolf you don’t know the name of are just one big mess.

* “Y’know come to think of it, I didn’t even got your name, yet.”

* The wolf snapped out of their jovial mood and puts his hands on his face. Cute.

* “Fergus the bloody, at your service”

* Now that’s a title for a werewolf, must be an alpha thing.

* “Call me Y/N”

* You and your new friend, Fergus the alpha, smile at eachother as you said your goodbyes.

* And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to him again.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

The Dark Side of Academia | Bruce Wayne/Batman x OC!Magician ft. Poison Ivy

Synopsis: Inspired by Harley Quinn Season 5 Episode 2. Vivian crosses paths with  Poison Ivy when she was brought to Gotham University by an ambitious scientist to be part of their research as Dr. Pamela Isley. In their time there, Poison Ivy comes across a man who Vivian shares a disdain towards.

There are three things that Vivian would welcome as a surprise when she comes to work. 

Her adopted children, who would always drop by at her place of work whenever they could. 

Her husband, who would try to join her for lunch at the cafeteria despite her telling him how impractical it was for him to drive all the way from Wayne Enterprise to see her. But she loved the effort anyway and would make the time to go to his place of work too.

And crime. Gotham crime. 

As a tenured professor at GU and as a tenured Gothamite---yes, she's earned that title now too---finding some costumed criminals or a crime organization taking over GU for their personal agenda is normal.

Quite a high bar, if she was asked. But when she came to Metropolis University, the bars of her encountering any of those, especially the last one, was slim, so when she saw Gotham's notorious eco-terrorist walking the halls of the campus, Vivian couldn't help but hide behind the wall and hope that Poison Ivy did not notice her.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She needs to call Bruce!

Shit, she forgot. He's off-world now.

Shit!

“Professor Vivian Pryor, what a surprise!” Vivian jumped at the sudden greeting of Lena Luthor.

“Ms. Luthor, hi,” Vivian greeted, fixing herself. “I wasn't… I wasn't expecting you here.”

“But I just saw you just now, I was about to call for you but then you hid behind the wall,” said Lena.

“Right. Sorry, but I thought I saw a familiar face, that's all. I needed to be sure,” Vivian laughed, making up an excuse. 

“Oh, I think I know who it was you saw,” Lena reached to her side and pulled up the person that had Vivian panicking. “Professor Pryor, I'm sure you know Poison Ivy---also known as Dr. Pamela Isley.”

Vivian couldn't believe it, it was really Poison Ivy standing there, wearing clothes and not fern. Her red hair still had a couple of flowers, her skin green, but she looked more civil and non-lethal. But Vivian knew that Poison Ivy could still be dangerous, especially with the presence of plants. 

“Ivy, I'm sure you know one of Gotham's celebrities---Professor Vivian Pryor-Wayne,” said Lena.

Ivy folded her arms over her chest and fave Vivian a look that says she didn't like her one bit. “Yeah, I do.”

“And I've read so much about you, Dr. Isley,” Vivian added.

“It's Poison Ivy. I don't go by that anymore.”

“I see. Dr. Ivy, then?”

“Just Ivy. Why? Do you want me to keep calling you Professor?”

“No, Vivian's fine… but, you might want me to---never mind. It's nice to meet you here. In a place of academia, and not running from plants in Gotham.”

An awkward silence came between the two women and Lena stepped up to clear the air between them. “Professor Pryor was called here to consult on one of Metropolis University's studies on Alchemy---they're trying to decode some old journal---and who better to do that than the country's renowned Symbologiest and Iconologist, right?

“Really? I was in the impression that all you know are pictures and stories,” Ivy stated.

That struck a nerve. This time it was Vivian who crossed her arms over her chest, “There are alchemical symbols that never came to record. I studied runes, hieroglyphics, and---as stated in my resume---symbology. That includes alchemy. I even wrote my bachelor's thesis based on the unidentified and dead Alchemical symbols found on Strauss’ notebook---and translated it too.”

Another tense silence. 

Ah, the not-so-rivalry-rather-tension between STEM and HUMSS in academia. 

Self-important-bitch, Ivy thought.

Egotistical-assholes, Vivian didn't say but her face did.

“Right, well, I'll just give Ivy a tour of the campus. I do hope we could catch up later, Professor,” said Lena Luthor.

“We'll see. See you both around,” Vivian left.

~ * ~

“Say that again,” Dick said.

Right after running into Poison Ivy, Vivian went straight to the courtyard of the campus and made a call to the next person she could talk to whenever Batman was off-world with the Justice League. 

“Dick,” Vivian sighed. “I ran into Poison Ivy in MU. She was with Lena Luthor and I think they have this research, I don't know. Got anything about that? Anything fishy?”

“Can't say, Luthor's really not in our jurisdiction, you know… That's mainly the big S’ turf, but I'll look into it. Maybe Kara knows something. She tends to know something.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

“How long are you going to be there?”

“How long is Bruce going to be on that research trip to the forest?”

“Can't say, but you can't seriously think about staying there until he gets back, right? Wouldn't want to lose you to shiny Metropolis, Viv,” he laughed.

“Don't worry, as much as I like seeing streets without blood or motor oil or whatever that is on Gotham's pavement that is a mix of vomit, piss, and shit… I'd rather spend a day locking my bullet-proof doors than have Superman use my car as a battering ram against some alien.”

“Glad to see that you'd prefer Gotham's crazy than Metropolis.”

“Yeah, well…” Vivin trailed off as she found Poison Ivy walking out of the building looking pale and shaken. “That's just the Gothamite in me, you know. Hey, kiddo, I gotta go. Call me back?”

“Sure thing. I'll also tell Tim about this too. Bye, Mama Bird.”

Ending the call, Vivian hid her phone before she approached Ivy who was pacing around the area, the plans were all growing wildly around her too.

“Ivy?” Vivian cautiously came close.

“Holy shit!” Ivy jumped and almost had vines attacking Vivian if it weren't for the woman realizing who it was. “Shit, shit, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that.”

“No, it's okay,” Vivian did not dare move as the sharp and thorned vines were near her neck and her arteries. “Do you want some coffee? I was about to get one myself and I saw you out here all… as much as people market it to amp you up all night, it calms my nerves actually.”

Ivy sighed and had the vines return to the plants around them. “Yeah… I guess coffee is a good idea.”

~ * ~

Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that she was having coffee with Poison Ivy when Vivian did just share mimosas with Harley on a yacht to freaking Greece a couple of years ago. But she was. Poison Ivy has always been one of Batman’s recurring villains whose goals are not entirely evil but her plans to do it are considered to be. Even Swamp Thing thinks so to. The Swamp treasures all life, not just the Green.

As they sat in a more private place in the cafe drinking coffee and having slices of cakes, Vivian tried to look past through the many times Poison Ivy had Gotham hostaged into one of her plans—and almost had her trapped in her schemes—and see the person who was having a panic attack right after seeing something that spooked her.

Before she was Poison Ivy she was Dr. Pamela Isley, a scientist, and someone who was also in Academia. Just like her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Vivian asked. “Or do you just want to have coffee and distract yourself from it…”

Ivy sighed. “Did you ever do something that you regretted? Not like buying some Prada shoes that you’d never wear, but really, really, regret it so much because it changed your life.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve regretted buying Prada, and I rarely buy from Prada. I like things in the department store that’s prices aren’t always three-to-four figures,” Vivian chuckled. “But yeah, I’ve done some things in my past that I really, really hate and I think things would have been different if I didn’t do it.”

“Like what? Moving to Gotham? I know that you lived in Liverpool and that you got into GU through the Martha Wayne Foundation. A long way from home if you ask me.”

“I have my reasons… I guess, yeah, if I hadn’t gone to Gotham my life would have been different. I wouldn’t be here, teaching, with a successful career. I wouldn’t have met my husband and I would have my family now. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

“What—got involved with your professor or something?” Ivy leaned back on her seat, her arms folded.

“I did but not that… It happened when I was much younger, before I came to Gotham. I was going through some things when I was a teenager, and something happened that almost drove me to insanity, and it drove me to leave Liverpool and start somewhere far away and where I can have a good start. I’d rather not say what it is, but I know what you mean… 

“If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have this life now. I’m happy but there are things that I wonder if it didn’t happen, what now? Would I still have gone to Gotham or would I have just stayed in Liverpool and still be with that ex. But I have no regrets of going here, even if I’ve had more than my fair share of Gotham’s crazy.”

Ivy sighed. “I saw someone back there who… let’s just say was part of my “villain origin story”,” she rolled her eyes at that. “I was under his tutelage, and we were a thing. It was against every ethical shit there is, but we made it work. I looked up to him—fuck, I even loved him…

“He was about to lose his grant because he’s done nothing original and wasn’t doing anything at all for his career. Then he saw my work and he tried to steal it. Long story short, after I tried to beat the crap out of him, he locked me in a lab with poison from my own work, I had to resort to using my own formulas to save myself and turned myself to this.

“I tried telling everyone about that really happened, but he was right… no one listened. I lost my credibility, my career, and my life. I lost everything then.”

“I am so sorry, Ivy… I don’t think I can even imagine that. What happened to you is awful,” Vivian held her hand. “I never knew. All I knew about Dr. Pamela Isley from GU was that, she was a student there, then there’s this accident and now you’re a…”

“Eco-terrorist?” Ivy chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If it’s okay, may I know who this man is?”

“I’m sure you’ve met him a couple of times now—actually, you did. You both were on that documentary on some plant that Harley got you and the Bats to go with her and get it.”

“Hold on, you don't mean…”

“Dr. Jason Woodrue.”

That fucker?

Vivian scoffed. “Why am I even surprised? But, fuck!”

Ivy raised a brow at her. She wasn’t expecting Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes Mrs. Wayne has a dirty mouth. “I guess you didn’t have a good experience with him?”

“He tries to get into every woman’s pants during that shoot. He’s a total creep,” Vivian said in a hush tone. “I know that I should have done something but there are things that even money or the Wayne name can’t do… I was just lucky that my husband is this hulking guy who kept him away from me between shoots. Academia isn’t always this pristine and non-political as it seems.”

“You have no idea,” Ivy laughed.

“Please don’t tell me that you're going to work here—I assume you’re here to work on something since you’re here with Lena Luthor.”

“Yeah, I’m going to do environmental-urban research under the Luthor Grant, but it also means I have to work with Jason Woodrue.”

“Why here? Why travel here and not at Gotham?”

This time Ivy raised a brow. “I don’t think the Wayne Foundation is going to give me a lab and freaking funding.”

“In our defense, you don’t really have a good track record lately…”

“And how about the fact that you’re also into deep shit with the Batman?” Ivy raised a brow. “I know, Harley told me about it. How you and the Bat are close, and that you have magic.”

Vivian sighed. Damn you, Harley. “She told you, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a good friend. Trust me. Like, a really, really good friend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But really, Dr. Isley,  after talking to you now, I think we could give you a shot. It would mean me battling other members of the Wayne Foundation board but I’d try to get you that—as long as your plans don’t involve destroying human life.”

“No promises… Thanks for this, this really helps.”

“Does Harley know—is she here by the way?”

“She’s at our apartment—did you know that property tax here is freaking murder?”

“Please, the many times I’d hear Bruce and Lucius whine about the taxes that Wayne Tower has to pay, I could buy a freaking house in Gotham Central with those rates.”

Ivy laughed, really laughed. Vivian never thought she would ever see Ivy do something like that. “It’s nice, talking to someone who understands. I know that Harley is my girlfriend but Academia wasn’t really her thing, you know?”

“You don’t always have to forgive. You can just move on from something and never forgive them… I know how hard it is to ever forgive someone.”

Ivy frowned. “I know about the miscarriage and Two-Face. I’m not always a horrible person, so I’m sorry about that, Professor Pryor.”

Vivian smiled. Reaching for her locket–the one that Jason gave her–Vivian took out one of the flattened dandelions inside and gave it to Ivy. “This is from the garden where we buried my daughter. I keep a fresh one with me at all times. It help me remember that she wasn’t a tragedy. There was happiness. We were happy to know that there was a possibility.”

Ivy accepted the dried plant and brought it back to life and turned it to a dandelion flower again. “Thanks, I think I can face him now and we’ll see if this can work. If it doesn’t I can also have Harley bash his brains out.”

“Please don’t.”

~ * ~

She fucked up. Well, she thinks she fucked up.

The following day, Vivian was met by a newspaper headline saying: JASON WOODRUE DIES AFTER A FREAK ACCIDENT. Before she could even make a call, Dick was already calling her.

“You saw?” Dick asked her.

“I did. And I think I just fucked up.”

“How? I’m headed to Metropolis now with Damian.”

She told them about her talk with Ivy, who Jason Woodrue was to Dr. Pamela Isley, her origin story. But they already knew how she became Poison Ivy, just not the entire picture of it. “Then I told her that she doesn’t have to forgive him, that she can just move on.”

“So, her moving on means killing her toxic-ex?” Dick said.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Vivian sighed. “I feel kind of responsible, because maybe I should have told someone about this—but we were hitting off so well yesterday and I thought maybe I got through to her… shit, Bruce is going to kill me.”

“He’s not. Don’t worry about it… the whole thing about Batman is giving people a chance to change… well, that right after beating up criminals with his sledgehammer punches.”

“What am I going to do now?”

“Go to MU? Do what you usually do. We’ll be there in an hour.”

“And stay out of Ivy’s way, Mom!” Damian told her.

~ * ~

She was doing a good job in staying out of Poison Ivy’s way but then Harley came to campus, running, and yelling: “I’M COMING, IVY!”

Vivian choked on her coffee when she heard that, and she–like the others in the campus—went out of their labs and classes to see the commotion. Vivian excused herself from her colleagues and went to see what Harley was running around for and why it sounded like she was really about to come.

“Harley!” Vivian ran after her. 

“Ah! Professor Pryor! Hi, Ivy said you were here! Great, I need your help!” Harley filled her in with all the details she saw, Ivy was in her office, accessing the green, and she saw vines trying to kill Ivy. Then there was Frank–Ivy’s best-plant-friend–who told Ivy that Jason Woodrue turned to a plant and is trying to kill Ivy

“And the only way to save her is to kill Jason Woodrue!” Harley summarized.

Great. Easy peasy.

When they go to the place where Woodreu’s body was, Harley kicked down the door and started trying to cut down the plant-man. 

“Hey, Professor, wanna help out here?” Harley exclaimed.

“Move aside!” Vivian cursed under her head and placed a hand on Woodrue’s chest and—

Fire burst from her palms and she—as Harley said—burned the motherfucker and all the plants that were under his control. 

“Shit!” Vivian gasped as she looked down on the ashes of what was Woodrue—or what was left of him, which was a monster.

Did she just kill someone?

Is it considered killing if the man was already dead and what was left is this mutated being who was just a monster. The monster who was all that Woodrue was.

Right?

Batman’s going to kill her.

~ * ~

Bruce arrived at Vivian’s hotel just as the MCPD finished their interview with her. They greeted him as they left the place, and when he got in he saw Vivian sitting on the couch—where the interview was held—with Dick, Damian, and Lucius waiting there with her. 

“Welcome back,” Vivian greeted him and drank the remaining half-full glass of scotch. 

She’s really stressed out with what happened. 

Dick told him about it just as he was heading back to the Watchtower, and now he immediately had Cyborg open a Boomtube for him and he arrived at Gotham to change, then he got on his chopper to head to Metropolis. 

“How are you?” Bruce asked her. 

“I am better now. Dick and Damian got here just as MCPD took us from MU. I called Lucius before MCPD could question me. And he helped me out. Made sure that my name and the Wayne name is out of this because I just burned what remains of Dr. Jason Woodrue after Ivy killed him in a lab filled with poison.

“And–off the record—I think I coerced her to do it after we had a heart-to-heart of moving on and the shitty-side of Academia. I am completely fine.”

Silence came to the hotel room, the men and Damian looking at her as she poured another drink but drank from the bottle instead. Maybe that’s for Lucius. Yeah, it is for Lucius because she handed it to the man.

“She’s not fine,” Damian concluded.

Lucius accepted the drink. “Like I said, you wouldn’t have known.”

“But I should have at least told someone, right? Bruce, in your opinion, did I just kill someone?” 

Bruce sighed. “Well, according to the records that Dick sent me, there is nothing left that was Jason Woodrue. What was his consciousness, and I think there wouldn’t be any other way to defeat him than to burn the tree. Sometimes we can’t save everyone, Viv.”

“I just think this wouldn’t have happened if I told someone about Ivy and Woodrue’s history…”

“I don't think that's your fault,” Dick spoke up. “You gave Ivy a chance to move on from it, you didn’t think she would do it. And to be honest, after hearing about her history, I can respect what she did.”

Another sigh and Bruce went to sit beside his wife and hold her hand. “It’s okay. It was a leap of faith. That’s what all of us do, actually.”

Vivian leaned on her husband and hugged his arm. “He was an asshole–like, the biggest one out there. I’ve met and dealt with assholes in Academia and he’s one of the worse; and though I know that we don’t kill, but fuck—I’m glad that she got that out and dealt with the motherfucker.”

“Don’t worry, there are days when I also want to just end things to get rid of this world of one bad person, but I just keep reminding myself that if I do that then what makes Batman different from the rest of them.”

Bruce asked Dick and Damian to pack up Vivian’s things while he helped her calm down in the living room. She was lying on the couch, her head on Bruce’s lap so he could massage her scalp; and Bruce talking to Lucius to know what was going to happen next after this when they heard the knock on the door. 

Lucius got up to answer.

“Who is it, Lucius?” Bruce asked when the man hasn’t welcomed nor spoken anything.

“Hi!” Harley Quinn came in with Poison Ivy.

Vivian and Bruce jumped up at their entrance, and Dick and Damian were in fighting stances.

“Whoah, chill out,” Harley told them. “We just came to bring the Professor a little somethin’ for helping out my Ivy!” Harley walked up to Vivian, pushing past Bruce and handed her a potted plant.

“Thank you?” Vivian said.

“It’s from the dandelion you gave me,” said Ivy. And some other plants. I made a formula that would help with growing the flowers and keeping them fresh. You can add that to your daughter’s garden. I know that our talk didn’t go as you planned, but it helped.”

Vivian glanced at her husband then to Ivy. “Glad it helped?”

Bruce sighed in the background.

“And it seems that after killing Dr. Woodrue I won’t be keeping that Luthor Grant, so who knows when I’ll be back in Gotham.”

Vivian laughed. “I see what you’re doing, Dr. Isley.”

“Well, I wanna see if Waynes do live up to their word,” Ivy smirked. “Or are you all just talk for a good PR?”

“I told you, it would be a hard shot considering your track record. But give us a good proposal and we’ll see.”

“See what?” Bruce asked.

“A grant from the Wayne Foundation,” said Ivy.

“Viv, you didn’t,” Bruce massaged the bridge of his nose.

“No promises. We’ll see where your proposal takes you, Dr. Isley.”

“I’ll write up one that you nor that fancy-schmancy foundation of yours wouldn’t even think about saying no. Well, see you around! And say hi to Batman for us!”

With that Ivy and Harley left, leaving a room of confused men and Vivian admiring the flower in the pot.

“Is it just me or does this flower have eyes?” Vivian showed the pot to Bruce.

“If that think starts talking…” Dick started.

Bruce sat down on the couch and hung his head low. He was gone for sixty-four hours and so much has already happened. What the hell?

[sorenphelps]

I just found out there’s a Sirius birthday week event hosted by @lilacella! I’m super late to the party but here are some of my HCs!

He loves puns and is annoyingly good at making them.

Despite being a dog himself, he is actually more of a cat person.

He became colorblind in Azkaban, and his colour vision has never fully recovered afterwards.

He got his growth spurt at 14, and had facial hair from the age of 16. Fleamont Potter taught him how to shave.

He is able to resist the Imperius curse.

He lost his virginity to Madam Rosmerta. He has a thing for older women. (Unresolved mommy issues mostly…)

His favourite subject was Ancient Runes. Everyone assumed that he is top tier at Astronomy, and while he was decent at it, he actually couldn’t care less about the subject.

He took a total of 9 N.E.W.T.s (DADA, Transfiguration, Charms, Alchemy, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Poitions, Care for magical creatures and Herbology), and got “Outstanding” on all except Herbology, which he passed with “Exceeding expectations”. He got an “Outstanding” in Poitions due to Slughorn’s blatant favoritism over his prestigious family, which annoys him a lot (one part because Snape is right about this accusation, and one part because he’d have preferred to be graded fairly).

He was never interested in Quidditch, but was up-to-date with it because of James.

His future profession of choice was curse breaker.

He used to bite his nails when stressed, he started to paint his nails to help him lose this bad habit. (He started to smoke instead.) Then kept both for aesthetic reasons.

He knew how to breath out smoke circles since he was a kid, and taught it to Remus in exchange of Remus teaching him how to whistle when they were 13.

He is tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. He is hairy. His eye colour is gray, but the shade can change a bit according to his mood. At first glance, his eyes can be mistaken for blue until compared side by side to Peter’s (who has cerulean).

He has a mole on his left cheek (every member of the Black family has a mole somewhere on their face). He also has one on his penis.

He has a resting bitch face, he either looks bored or annoyed, but his whole face and vibe changes drastically when he smiles. He is overall quite intimidating.

He has slightly East Asian features, with wide cheekbones, almond shaped eyes, a sharp jawline and thick jet black hair.

He can rock any haircut, and doesn’t care much about his hair by default.

His ears are pierced, and he wears a dog collar nonstop that he got from James when they made a blood pact with each other as teens. (It could be taken off him when he was sent to Azkaban, because the magical binding seemingly ceased to exist when the Potters died. Sirius later found the collar in Grimmauld Place, which gave him the idea to use the old blood pact with James to make Harry his own heir.)

He only wears black and shades of gray, as a teen because of aesthetic, as an adult because he can’t see colours. Beside black and gray, his “reference” colour is dark purple. (I have a palette for every character I draw.)

Prongs’ antlers scarred his left eyebrow during one of their first transformations. It could have been healed up perfectly, but Sirius decided to keep it as it is as a memento of their Big Achievement (and also aesthetic).

Also have a quick sketch of him to make up for the missed “prompts” of the event!

[dusty-siltstrider]

Alright I'm properly boozed and decently numbed. I promised to bitch excessively on here if our boy became a name on a missing poster. Here the fuck I am.

For reference I'm focusing on Viktor and Jayce here. More than enough has been said about everyone else. Y'all ate good. Let us starve in peace. Lots of this comes from lengthy discussions on the Viktor Nation disc.

To start - no, Viktor does not appear in the new trailer. I'm sorry, he just doesn't. Not even a voice line which should have been pretty fucking easy. Over at Viktor Nation we spent nearly an hour going over the trailer frame by frame brightening shit to see if he shows. He does not. No, not even a far-off shot of his arm. We got more Viktor in the teaser from two months ago than the official trailer.

However...

100% Glorious Evolved. Fingerprints around their faces match what appears to be Viktor face-grabbing that Shimmer addict from the teaser trailer. Similar rune carvings. This is his cult. Which uhh right off the bat is much different from any other interpretations?

Basically confirms they're going all-in on runic magic for Viktor and largely veering away from classic Machine Herald. Which I have feelings about. That will be reserved for the season itself once we see it play out.

And before any smartasses come in with "lol at least you got a shot of his feet" jokes those definitely aren't his. Just one of the random cultists floating judging by the angling. And Viktor's would be full grape Fanta. The silvery/gold texture is interesting. Some kind of manipulation of metal through magic?

Don't even.

Also been seeing a lot on the shadowy golden-eyed figure and we figured that's near-certainly not him either.

Looks sick, I'll admit. I kinda hope it's him, in fact. Most likely not him. Face shape is slightly too squared off, ears stick out too far, yes I went in deep on skull shape for this and I'm at least 75% sure that ain't him. And Viktor's magical influence/Hexcore spookiness has been defined by purple sinews and more organic forms than this more fantastical shadow tendril thing. This seems to be a new force entirely.

I won't discount it outright since Viktor's eyes are indeed associated with gold/amber but for all I know this could be Mel. Eye socket shape/nose does vaguely match. And Viktor's eyes would likely lean more towards a purple voidy glow in S2 if they're going all-in on the Hex Core.

Possible Jayce cameo? Very obviously meant to be his wristband gem, maybe somehow got fused with his skin. The grip on the object appears heavy so it's not Viktor's cane/staff. Could very well be the Viktor/Jayce confrontation since if you squint there might a robed figure standing in front of that weird fuckin magic doodad.

Speaking of...

Saw a pretty interesting post from @nylloth saying this could be Viktor's "hospital" or maybe some kind of Glorious Evolved temple. It does resemble the fucked up glowing sinewy appearance of the Hex Core so perhaps some kind of hallucination or vision that Viktor is having of his potential. Would love to hear more thoughts on that though. It's very obviously related to "the Arcane" as a broader more mysterious force.

Wanted to be angrier here but I'm honestly just disappointed. Which is ass because pit fighter Vi and Ekko and revolutionary Jinx are all things I'm genuinely looking forward to but I can't rally it. I'm very glad everyone else ate good though. Does indeed look sick and I'm still excited. Pit fighter Vi especially. Holy fuck. But I'm just too bummed out about Viktor, call that dramatic or childish but idc it's how it is.

Be stingy about appearances and character designs but it could not have been difficult to include a single voice line. Don't even bother including it in the show, get a couple trailer-only lines or a "Glorious Evolution" or SOMETHING. Don't give me that "well their fates are still ambiguous" No they aren't lmao they just aren't. By this point everyone knows Jayce and Vik live and 50/50 on Mel.

If Viktor had not appeared in that teaser TWO MONTHS ago for like 2 seconds then it would be reasonable to assume he got erased from the show entirely lol. We have a shot of his arm to go off of until we hopefully get a proper Viktor poster. Cool. Nice arm.

That is all. For now. Please refrain from discussing leaks. I don't need any more temptation.

[ravencromwell]

some scattered disability and White London thoughts:

Schwab missed a hundred thousand opportunities for disability rep; this is a bleak, apocalyptic landscape where one of the prevalent currencies is blood, and both children and adults are frequently attacked for their power.

Sign language. Look. Most magicians need to speak to focus their power, though Schwab makes clear it's more a way to keep up concentration than a necessity (take Lila's tiger, tiger, burning bright. So I wanna see that taken to its logical conclusion: tongues removed because many. many people think they! are the source of power, or at least where immense magic will nest.

Therefore: A thriving culture of sign language, where everyone is at least semi-fluent.

Holland, watching Talya's hands trace the old stories in gorgeous, fluid arcs with her hands as her face takes on a million expressions. Later, finishing them beneath the blankets, fingers tracing words intohis skin in the dark.

Holland stands out as much because his Antariness has allowed him to avoid disability as for the power itself.

Way the fuck more prosthetics particularly prosthetic hands considering how so many people carve element-control runes directly on their skin. Take away your hands, and some enemies would think they could take away your ability to fight.

Lethally sharp hooks for hands, with the runes carved directly into the metal and the most ruthless fighters absolutely willing ready and able to gouge out your eyes with their prosthetics.

Consequently: prosthetic care. Eventually, you have to take your hand/hands off; moisturize the stumps etc. Who you choose to be that vulnerable with says a thousand things about your character. (and the moments when you don't particularly *choose* it but you need to anyway because you've had it on too long and the skin is blistering; infection in Makt would be deadly.

The irritations of amputations. I know from some other characters I've researched for: things like washing your hair with only one functioning hand: an absolute bitch.

Anemia. In AGOS, part of what Ojka says Osaron's powers does is "warm her blood". Everyone in that city must be A. constantly cold; and not cold like a coat can fix. Cold from poor circulation and generally "weak" blood. People who have an affinity with bone magic (Athos, Vortalis, Holland himself) would have a significant advantage because everyone else is moving just slightly sluggishly, always dragging at the weight of exhaustion. It's part of what would make Talya's dancing so fucking _impressive, that she moves like that even despite the headaches, dizziness, etc.

Holland as Antari: essentially a fucking human heated blanket to anyone who isn't afraid to be so close to y'know the extremely dangerous magician.

God, there's so. so much more, but my brain is swiss cheese. But I at least wanted to start the ball rolling, because I feel like this's a corner of fandom that's just _bursting with possibilities.

[ashthewaterghoul]

I Know For The Last Time You Will Not Be Mine So Give Me The Night - An Alternative Ending

     At some point, Dew felt a faint light licking against his eyelids. Did he fall asleep? Was it morning already? Though curiously, he still felt the back of Phantom’s shoulders pressed against his face. He reluctantly cracked an eye open, and instantly regretted it.     The light was coming from Phantom’s horns. Their stars and galaxies giving a final burst of energy, one last ditch attempt at waking up. But they never would. Or, What would have been the ending to Ch22 of Even The Brightest Stars Burn Out if I decided to be mean. Pretty sure this could honestly be read without the context of the fic but notes have a tldr.

Words: 1.5k

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Aether & Phantom, Dew/Phantom, Phantom & everyone

Tags: Death, alternative ending, angst, whump, Dewdrop needs a hug, referenced su!c!de attempt, funerals, Aether & Phantom are siblings, they/them pronouns for Phantom, idk how to tag this please send help.

A/n: Context! Phantom and Aether are siblings and Phantom got summoned to a pool of Aether's blood. Angst and shit ensues until Phantom decides to commit suicide. Dew gets there to talk them down, but not before the dagger they were going to use falls and slices their chest open. That and magic made it so they didn't wake up and were put in a coma. In ch22 we see the pack struggling and loosing hope, but Phantom wakes up! In this ending though, they decidedly… don't

~~~

    When the doctors came that dreadful evening, the pack all piled on top of Phantom, making sure they weren’t alone and surrounded by love. Copia had given Phantom the Ghoul equivalent of the last rites, and the pack had followed the Ghoulish tradition of preparing a body for death with some alterations considering they were away from their native dimension. They had washed Phantom’s body with various oils and herbs, each bearing a prayer, and finished by burning incense and using the ashes to draw various protection runes for Phantom’s journey into the Beyond. They had done the same for Aether, not getting the opportunity with Sunshine. Seeing the little Bat bearing the same marks their brother had just months prior twisted all their souls even more than they already had been. The universe really was a heartless bitch at times. The pack had put Phantom in their favourite pyjamas (Swiss’ joggers and one of Aether’s t-shirts) and Cumulus had made their curls look so healthy, you wouldn’t think anything was wrong.

    The doctors removed everything but the breathing tube, allowing the pack some final moments. It was weirdly quiet without the beeping of the monitors they had all become accustomed to. Phantom had looked so small amongst all the wires and tubes they had been connected to, yet they somehow looked even smaller now without it.

    All said their goodbyes privately, one at a time, then together took positions on Phantom’s nest. Phantom was rolled partially on their side so their head rested on Cumulus’ chest as that was how they always cuddled, Mountain sat against the headboard with them both against his own chest. Rain curled up by their feet while Swiss and Aurora rested their heads on Phantom’s leg. Cirrus shimmied herself between Cumulus and Rain, her head on their stomach, and Dew curled up around the back of Phantom.

    The bat plushie was in their arms, and one of Aether’s horns was in each hand.

Read below the cut or on ao3!

    The doctor turned off the respirator, removed the breathing tube and immediately left the room, shutting the door behind her.

    All the Ghouls shut their eyes, not wanting to see their horns fall away. The magic in the dagger was what made Aether and Sunny’s bodies disappear, so they also shut their eyes so they didn’t have to see it happen to Phantom if they disappeared too. All stayed silent as they cried, and waited for the last crackle of air to leave Phantom’s lungs, for their heart to stop beating, and for the stars in their horns to burn out with their soul.

    Dew, Cirrus and Cumulus would be the first to hear them go, and were entwining their tails, providing some comfort for what was to come. Silently, they all prayed that Phantom would come back. That their breathing would pick up and they would wake. But Satan hadn’t listened thus far, why would he listen now?

     At some point, Dew felt a faint light licking against his eyelids. Did he fall asleep? Was it morning already? Though curiously, he still felt the back of Phantom’s shoulders pressed against his face. He reluctantly cracked an eye open, and instantly regretted it.

    The light was coming from Phantom’s horns. Their stars and galaxies giving a final burst of energy, one last ditch attempt at waking up. But they never would.

    The last crackle of air left Phantom’s lungs. Dew, Cirrus and Cumulus felt those last heartbeats, so incredibly strong that they dared to think maybe it would be okay. But the last beat thumped, that last thread snapped, and none came after.

    Dew choked on a sob. Cumulus followed after the small clank of their horns falling away and out of their skull. And then everyone joined as Phantom’s body disappeared.

    As the Bug they were all clinging to - almost trying to follow them - faded away, they ended up holding each other instead. The horns fell to the middle of their pile, in a spot where the Ghoul themself was no longer. All of them watched as the stars and galaxy gave their last shine, and burn out into dormancy, just like Aether’s had.

    The bat plushie now had both of the brothers’ horns resting against its plush wings. Dew allowed himself a small comfort that the Bat themself was indeed with their brother again, and free from their pain.

    Although they had left the pack in a whole cosmos of it.

~~~

‘Phantom Luceat’

‘May your pain end, and your soul

paint the brightest stars in our skies.’

    It was engraved onto a stone that Dew and Rain had retrieved from the depths of the river. On it, Swiss and Aurora had combined their Earth affinities to etch the text alongside wisteria, carnations and baby’s breath, Mountain taking over when it got too much for them.

    It felt like a sickening Déjà vu as the pack walked up the hill again, to the lake, and to the second Dogwood tree Mountain had planted, grown and moved. Not to mention also feature a memorial stone for a Luceat at the base.

    They all had violet candles, carved with bats, and wore solemn expressions. Once again, they all said a few words for the little bat. Cumulus for the fourth kit she’d lost, Cirrus for her sibling, Swiss, Aurora and Rain for their partner, Copia for the third Ghoul lost in such a short time, and Dew and Mountain for the little bug who meant much more to them than words could describe.

    They built another pyre and Dew and Swiss used their affinities and the flames of the candles to light it. There wasn’t a lot any of them could throw in as Phantom had been topside for just months, Aether had been here for years. But they all found something. Copia burned the dagger once and for all, not caring for if the Clergy would chew his head off for destroying something so important for their rituals.

    All the pack and Copia stayed there until the pyre had finished burning and said the prayers to protect Phantom’s soul in the Beyond.

    Slowly, everyone filtered back inside. But Dew stayed, staring at the ashes and wishing he was part of it. He had begged to be taken instead of Phantom, and once again, he couldn’t get what he wanted.

    He lit a cigarette and tears pricked his eyes when the brief memory of him offering one to Phantom popped up. It was stupid, and Dew didn’t even know if they smoked, but he felt like he had to do something. As Dew took puffs of the cig, he had to wonder what if Phantom said yes? Would anything had changed? It felt like millions of what ifs ran through the Fire Ghoul’s head, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t cause him a bit of a migraine.

    Phantom was only 24 years old; Dew was 33. He’d lived as good a life as he would get by now, his birth family gone and his chosen family in a constant cycle of slowly disappearing. He’d seen the world that so few Ghouls get to see and can’t see or do much more that he hadn’t already been through. It should have been him.

    Dew reached into his pocket, and pulled out the several gemstones that he retrieved for Phantom. They clinked together in his palm and his heart hurt at the sight of them. His hand shook from the cold and his cries as he knelt on the edge of the lake. The other hand reached out and melted the ice. Dew sobbed as he returned the crystals to the water they came from.

    As was tradition for Water Ghouls, what could be returned to her, should be. It was a death tradition for a Water Ghoul’s horns to be put back into the Ghoul’s home waters, allowed to sink to the bottom and be with her in eternal rest and embrace. Dew also knew from Aether that the notion of life being a cycle - everything in it being its own cycle, knowing that everything returning home in the end - is incredibly important to Quintessence Ghouls. It almost felt like a meeting of their elemental traditions.

    Dew had hoped that one day, he would be able to combine them by making his nest nice and neat and pristine so Phantom can rest easy in his safe-space, only wanting to be his best for them. He would fill the nest with comforts for them both to share, grab Aether’s old star projector so they could have a mimicry of laying under the stars that had exploded at the perfect times for them to meet. He would've used the courting traditions to ask Phantom to be his.

    Omega had once told Aether “Fuck the Fates” and Dew could quite honestly say that would be his next tattoo. The Fates were cruel, life was cruel, the universe was cruel. Phantom was too young for all they went through, and they absolutely should not have died.

    It happened to Omega, then Aether, and now Phantom. So, Dew cried as he was forced to realise that, in the end, even the brightest stars burn out.

Go read the main fic on ao3! One shot master post can be found here

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Silver and Gold

Author’s note: First chapter of Thressl in Living Waters. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric.

Summary: Thressl arrives on Ancient Terra.

Warnings: none? Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Thressl wakes up and is in agonizing pain. Although, he's glad that he's in the ocean waters, although he notices something strange, the water is far warmer than the freezing icy oceans of the planet he had been on before.

One of his hands reaches over and hits the 'I'm really injured please come get me' button on his wrist mounted vox. The ocean pushes him back and forth as it moves.

The rocking of the ocean is almost pleasant, except for the fact that the headache he has for overusing his Blessings given to him by the All Father for being an apprentice Rune Priest makes him queasy.

Also- it must be a terribly dark night, on whatever planet this is. And the cloud cover ensuring the light of the stars and moon makes it dark. The sort of darkness that scares base line humans.

Since he's an Astarte and he knows no fear, he's not afraid. Wait a minute. He's an Astarte- even if it was darker than a cave without light, he should be able to see more than just darkness.

Especially since he still has his helmet on and it helps augment is already enhanced vision. He taps at his helmet trying to see if the bastard chaos witch had busted his helmet as he pulls it off and clips it to his belt, muscle memory is a wonderful thing.

He's glad now that he'd gone through that aggravating training that dealt with sensory deprivation. Being able to navigate terrain and other things without sight, or hearing, or smell, or touch.

It had been really hard training at the time, but it helps him now. Thressl rubs his face and it comes away as he smells and feels blood crusting his eyes shut. Fuck. And he scratches at his ears, and also feels dried blood. Fuck.

His over use of his Runic powers was worse than he thought. He snaps his fingers next to his left and right ears. Fuck. He can barely hear the snapping of his fingers in his left ear.

There is nothing that he can hear on his right ear. Fuck. He, through muscle memory and instinct grabs one of his ration packs and eats it, not bothering to take of the covering.

The covering is edible for a space marine to chew through. It doesn't make the taste of rations, which is terrible already any more or less pleasant to chew through.

He also sucks down a hydration ration, which helps him feel better and he touches the psy-wound that's throbbing at his side. It's still bleeding freely.

Thressl has limited options, it will set back his healing in other ways, but he focuses and murmurs the words and focuses his power to heal the psy-wound.

His power is slow to respond. It's like trying to move molasses that's half frozen on the ice. It's so sluggish and it drains is already almost depleted stores to dangerous levels.

Thressl's already shit vision, which is almost nil, since he was able to manually open his eyes. He curses his stupid decision to do that, while he is in salt water. While his secondary eyelids protect his eyes, it still stings like a fucking bitch. Ow. Fuck.

Aand he can only see greyed out blobs and only what is within touching distance with his outstretched hands. Fuck. Shit. Ass. Fuck. But- it's better than what could have happened should have overused his powers.

The horror stories that those Fuckers in Grey would tell those with the touch of The Warp about overusing their powers was horrific. His First Born brothers had told him that he's an apprentice rune priest, and not a Psyker.

Which he had agreed to, as arguing semantics was not the first impression he'd wanted to make with the older brothers. A voice calls out on his vox.

"I have heard your call for aid," A familiar, wonderfully familiar voice calls out. "I am Cedric- an Apprentice Apothecary."

"Oh thank the All Father!" Thressl says, "It's me Thressl- I don't know how I got to near where you are, brother-cousin. But I'm glad that you are nearby."

"My ETA to where you are is five minutes," Cedric says, "I have a battle buddy with me- a non-Apothecary, his name is Oleandros, he's a fellow Primaris Marine and an Ultramarine."

"Ugh. Ultramarine," Thressl says automatically, "but, glad to hear your voice. Uh. Please don't approach on my right side if possible."

"... You overused your powers before coming here. Didn't you." Cedric says, his tone now a lot sterner as his fellow Primaris Marine scolds him for being so foolish.

"I had to!" Thressl argues, "The Chaos Sorcerer was thrown his witchy bastard spells and I had to hold him off, distract him long enough for my older brothers to arrive and lop the fucker's head off."

"Ah." Cedric says with an unhappy sigh, "You are speaking very loudly, Thres."

"... Fuck sorry." Thressl says trying to be quieter, "It's hard to hear."

"I know." Cedric says. "you get loud when your hearing goes out. Because you can't hear yourself, much less anyone else around you."

It takes what feels like a lot longer than five minutes to for him to smell Cedric and the Ultramarine Primaris Scout to show up. He waits for them to get much closer before greeting them both.

Oleandros seems a cheerful sort, at least for an Ultramarine. "Say... your kinda... red-ish."

"Olly shush." Cedric says.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" Thressl asks loudly, not having heard, and unable to read Olly's lips.

Cedric sighs and gently grabs one of Thressl's hands and uses haptic communication and a form of morse code to tell him. [Olly likes your red hair.]

"OH THANKS I GUESS." Thressl says.

[Thres. stop shouting.] Cedric requests.

Slightly clumsily Thressl taps back. [okay.]

Oleandros and Cedric help guide Thressl to the Iron Warrior Steelix cliff base. Oleandros going a head to pre-check in the three of them as Cedric guides Thressl to the medbay.

[fappingace]

Saw a gif and it gave me an idea for a story, now you all get to enjoy that story

Fair warning the story has elements of noncon, breeding, and mind manipulation based mind control. Also mild violence but it's basically only just set dressing. If you are ok with that stuff, great. If not, this story isn't for you.

We were warned about the quest of course, but that's hardly new. As a pair of female adventures, we got warned about fighting giant rats for fuck sake. 

We had figured it was just the normal sexism and maybe it was. We still should have listened.

I was the martial, the tank, I always took point, let Lillia my caster follow behind where enemies would have to go through my first. It was a good system, especially in a cramped dungeon. But then…

CRACK! My shield turned to splinters under the blow from the brute, skidding me back several feet. I breathed, this guy was strong, even with the shield taking the brunt of the blow my arm felt like jelly, but I've faced strong foes before, helps that I had Lillia, I just had to keep him occupied while she blasted him. Speaking of,

A blob of fire hit him full on in the face. That's my girl! but then I noticed his skin seemed to absorb the flames, runes on his skin glowing ever so faintly. What the fuck? Magic absorption is rare, almost unheard of, and almost exclusively on more weak or vulnerable targets.

 This fine, totally fine, totally definitely fine, I think through gritted teeth, priority one, protect my caster. Priority two, put thus mother fucker in the ground I run at him, blade raised to give him a blow he'd never fucking forget.

I stare dumbstruck at his hand around my blade before he wrenches it from my grasp and throws it into the ground… which in this case is a solid stone floor.  

Fuck I'm fucked. But I have to protect Lillia. I raise my fists into a fighting stance, “alright fuck face, you want to fight without weapons, fine by me.” I put on a lot of bravado, priority two wasn't happening, I accepted that, but so long as I keep him focused on me, Lillia should be able to escape. 

He seems to observe me, I swear I see a glint of amusement in his monstrous eyes, “you have good fight in you,” he said with confidence, “you will make strong children”

“The fuck I will.” I step forward and swing- and where'd he go?

My face slams into the floor, dazing me a moment as he casually begins tearing off my armor, his hand planted securely on my head.

Coming back around to not being dazed I began struggling, I wasn't about to just lay here and let him use me as he saw fit.

“I'm getting slow,” he chuckled, “usually you'd be completely stripped before coming to. Or perhaps you simply are that tough, in which case I made a really good choice.” His slow left me with a shoulder pad, a pair of enchanted bracelets, some leg armor though only one leg was armored below the knee, and the under padding became armor directly on skin is awful.

I would take armor directly on skin over my current predicament though. At least I should have distracted him long enough for-

I heard a faint noise, it can't be, I turn my head in the direction of the noise, oh my fucking gods, Lillia's standing there in horrified shock, run bitch! I'm distracting him so you can fucking get away! I obviously don't say that, kinda defeats the point of being a distraction to draw attention to her. But she needs to go!

Got to buy time got to buy time! “ha,” I try a laugh, even I'm not convinced, “you made a bad choice, I'm going to make your life hell the whole time you limp dicked ba-”

My voice drops as a faint glowing light appears behind me and I feel something slap against my back. I look back, Fuck, that's big. My terrified thoughts are right, and this massive hunk of meat is covered in magic runes.

His chuckle is much more convincing, “there isn't a female alive who can resist my friend here,” he playfully bounces the mass on my back. The wet feeling of the precum filling me with dread. 

“Well I guess I'm just special than, you creep.”

That mocking chuckle again, “perhaps you are, but we've yet to see if you are special like that.” He rips a hole in my underlayer, exposing my virgin hole to the cool dungeon air before a warm object is pressed onto it. “I'm going to miss your resistance. One more for the road?”

“Fuck you! I'm not giving up that easy!” 

“I hope our young inherit that fire.” He says happily before shoving himself in

And it is wonderful. I've adventure enough to recognize the feeling of magically implanted emotions, and this pleasure and ecstasy is blatantly that. Which is a small comfort as I moan and beg like a bitch in heat as he defiles me. 

I want him to breed me, to implant his children into my womb, it is my purpose. And these forced desires and thoughts disgust me, them being implanted doesn't make me want them any less.

He mocks me, telling me how easy I gave in, how I was such a good breeding hole

give me back control of my thoughts and I'll show you how easy I am stud I angerly think from my tiny corner of my mind.

He then begins whispering in my ear, telling me that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have a few magically gifted brats too. Lillia! I wanted to tell him he couldn't touch her, how he could use me as much as he wants but he can't touch her. But this enchantment made the idea of him breeding her so hot, I wanted him to do it… bile would have rose in my throat if the part of me that wasn't enchantment wasn't so overwhelmed by said enchantment. My job is to protect- my job is to prot- my job is to take his cock and have his children

He let out a groan, flooding my womb with his seed as I orgasmed and was filled with wretched bliss at fulfilling my compelled purpose. 

He breathed a bit, catching his breath, before saying with a smirk strong enough to hear, “now let's give your friend her turn, she's been waiting so patiently.” And began to pull out.

yes, yes, breed her like you have me. Make her a little breed slu- “don't you dare touch her!” As his dick exited my mind cleared, my thoughts my own, the enchantment only seemingly in effect while he's in you. 

He smirks down at me as he pulls his hand away from my head, “Stop me then”

with pleasure. I grab at him what? I hit him... I stand in his way I tell Lillia to fucking run already! every time I try to stop him, the thought goes blank. 

“You know what my cock can do to make sure we can breed resistant females without issue,” he says, crouching with a mocking grin as I lay horrified at the blatant holes in my thoughts, “our cum doesn't act as strong but it does insure you don't stop our progeny from being born, which includes making more. So you might as well enjoy the show, I'm sure I will.” He then stands and begins walking towards Lillia, who finally fucking runs! But it's too late. 

I can only watch as he tears her clothes from her, her cloth robes giving way easier than my armor. As he positions himself over her. As her cries of protest become cries of bliss. As he uses her like nothing more than a toy. As he erupts into her, breeding her like he already has me. As her bliss becomes horror once again. 

[unicyclehippo]

top 5 moments of your fave character from each cr campaign

oh u DO think my memory is better than it is but i will give it a go

1. c1 - everything vex has ever done. when vex rises up out of the ocean on her wedding day, furious, & summons a bow made of light & pike gives her a golden arrow to shoot sylas……h-hot. woman hot. delilah WAS a bitch. i am a twin myself & that whole deal was..a lot for me. do not go far from me. there’s a kind of loneliness that only twins get to feel & vex&vax nailed that.

2. c2 - beau with her shitty strength steps back into the room w the laughing hand & hauls her BROTHR her CAPTAIN her FRIEND onto her shoulders & gets him out of there she goes BACK for him she has no MAGIC she LOVES him she risks everything to get her hands on him & pull him away she risks an awful death she would die for any of them she means it she proves it she loves so hard her hands are in fists all the time she can’t let people see what she wants she can’t let people see that she wants she takes her bloodied hands& picks up her FRIEND & gets him OUT she LOVES him.

3. also c2 jester cupcake moment. i think it’s the only moment in cr where everything just….clicked. to me, that’s THE jester moment. everything stripped away. that’s CHARACTER baby that’s the good shit.

4. c3 laudna in the tree matt giving up his seat for her to speak to imogen for the most brutal like. ten seconds ever. laudna hunger of the shadow the first time. Marisha does this thing where she like. visibly dissociates for like. i don’t rmbr. i want to say fully forty minutes but that might just be me having felt it so powerfully. ten minutes ? the way she diminishes her presence, hides at the table, sits SO perfectly still. my heart aches.

5. exu calamity laerryn BLIGHT. who has done more in the history of exandria? who has changed the world more than her? NO ONE. NO. ONE. who had the power the skill the vision the LOVE to do what she did, to see avalir move not only over the face of the world but between every world? That ALONE would put her into top tier. & then yeah ok with a single spell she broke the pen that wrote the runes of protection across the world & shattered the ancient tree but who hasn’t wanted to kill a tree that was killing their friends? everyone would do that. it hurt her friend it hurt her husband (ex) it KEPT her BEST FRIEND in its BRANCHES who she has tried EVERYTHING to save. so yeah FUCK that tree! & then when everything went to shit she SAVED the world. she SAVED THE WORLD. laerryn literally has done the most anyone has ever done. & in some ways she did succeed in making it so that people could travel between realms im just saying she very much did succeed at that even if there were a few consequences

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 20 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 3,441

—————————————

Act II, Chapter 8 - The Towers

Astarion came out of his reverie a few hours before dawn, as per usual. Normally he would go read or take a dip in the hot bath to relax.

Instead, he stayed right where he was, looking at his little hearth witch, tucking her thick hair behind her slightly pointed ear. 

Gods, he wanted her. Wanted to bury himself inside of her warm body, feel her heart race against his as he pleasured her, made her cry out his name.

But he still couldn’t shake the tainted feelings that went with his carnal craving. Damn Cazador! That son of a bitch!

His witch groaned and shifted in her sleep, her breathing hitching as her muscles tensed. Immediately he tamped down on his frustration as his concern for her overrode his anger. He carefully lifted her shirt to glance at the circular rune tattooed on the small of her back.

The orange cracks pulsed angrily in the dark. He placed his hand onto her skin, feeling the heat slowly dissipate under his touch.

Should I tell her? He looked down at her face. Her furrowed brow gradually relaxed and her breathing returned to normal.

I’ll tell her in the morning. For now… I’ll keep an eye on her.

***

The next morning, you awoke draped on top of Astarion, his arms wrapped around you covetously. 

“Mmhmm, g’mornin’,” you mumbled, blinking away the sleep. You looked up to see Astarion staring at you with a peaceful smile on his face.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” you said with a smile. You tapped his chest with a finger. “You normally get up far earlier than I do… Did you stay here just to be with me?”

He smiled back at you. “Perhaps.”

You got up and let him get ready for the day, turning your back as you got changed. When you turned back around, you realized that he had been watching you the whole time with the way he eyed you appreciatively, one side of his lips quirked up.

“Were you watching me change?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me not to,” he said, shrugging.

“You can make your own decisions, you know.”

“And I chose to watch you change.” His expression turned serious as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Your seal… it still has cracks all over it.”

You blinked. You hadn’t thought to ask him to check it for you. “Oh. Hmm. It doesn’t feel any different, though.”

“Tell me if it does,” he said softly.

You nodded. 

He smiled and ruffled your hair before leaving the tent. You wondered at this more affectionate, almost cuddly version of Astarion, and hoped that you could keep healing his heart, little by little.

***

You made the others a nutritious breakfast and packed them a few bundles of snacks to keep their energy up for what would hopefully be the final battle in this place. Their expressions were more grim than when they had left last time. As they all walked up the pathway out of the camp and disappeared from sight, your spine tingled.

“W-wait!”

But they were already gone.

You turned to Withers. “Should I go after them?”

He stared at you for a moment. “Whatever thou does shall make no difference in what is to transpire.”

You hated not knowing why your seal was tingling. “Then what’s the point of these damn premonitions if I don’t know what to do with them half the time?!”

“Who said it was a premonition?”

You stared at the skeleton, who looked back at you in curiosity. “I…”—you gestured helplessly—“I don’t know. No one, I guess. I just thought…”

He turned away from you as you trailed off, staring out into space once more, his usual state of being. It was as if he was seeing something far away, watching events elsewhere.

“Can… you see them, right now?”

He ignored you.

Damn cryptic mummy. You closed your eyes and focused on your seal. Why the hells are you tingling, hm?

Tracing the power, tracing the lines, you could feel something like a thread being tugged at your seal from below the ground, down, down deep underground.

Something is happening down there. Something big. And there’s nothing I can do.

You fell to your knees in despair. Astarion. Astarion!

Your mind went to the others. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Gale, Shadowheart!

You knew it was useless, but you sent a heartfelt message in your mind. Please, be careful my friends!

Taking a deep breath, you slowly let it out, trying to rid yourself of the worry that was threatening to freeze you like a winter storm. 

Nothing I can do about what I can’t control, so let’s do what I can. 

You cleaned and sorted and mended until every last thing you could possibly do was done. You practiced your songs, you tried to dance, but your mind wasn’t focused. Apprehension stalked your thoughts like a hunter, and your tired mind its prey. 

I can’t bear not knowing, but I have no choice, do I?

Staring at the entryway, you spaced out, your mind going to all kinds of terrible scenarios. Your breath caught, your heart raced.

This isn’t helping. I need to calm down. Godsdammit, why can’t I calm down?!

Scratch came up to you and nudged your leg.

“Scratch? What’s that you got there?”

Holding out your hand, you took the proffered gift. It was a small pouch, purple dyed with a striped pattern, and felt very light. When you opened it, you could smell a light grassy scent. 

“Autumn crocus?” You looked down at the dog, who was looking at you with an expectant expression. Squatting down, you scratched his head and neck. “Good boy.”

~You seem down, friend.~

You blinked. I can hear him without taking that potion? Strange. “I’m worried for the others.”

~You don’t think they’ll come back?~

“I… I’m sure they’ll come back.”

Scratch tipped his head. ~You don’t seem sure.~

You sighed. What I’m not sure about is my sanity. “I’m not. I’m just trying… to make myself believe.”

~Do you trust them?~

“I do.”

~Then they’ll come back.~

You smiled. I wish I could think like that. “I’ll take your word for it.” Sitting down cross legged, you petted Scratch’s head while you spaced out. No point in letting the unknown get me so riled up. Let’s hope for the best, shall we?

Laying down and staring at the ceiling, you closed your eyes, using the sound of the rushing water to empty your mind and bring yourself some peace.

***

1489 DR, Three Years Ago

You had just set up your little cottage by the River Chionthar. The previous owner had long since passed away, and no one else had laid claim to it. You had even checked in the village to see if anyone else owned it, but it appeared to just be abandoned property. Given how much of a shithole it was when you found it, you weren’t surprised that no one wanted it.

It was slightly off the beaten path and weeds were everywhere, vines on top of the house, in the house, between the tiles. Fortunately, you knew a few songs that handled gardening very quickly, and after a few days of cleaning up, it was finally livable. 

You slowly started to build your business, first from your regulars from the village who liked your potions, and then the merchants who passed by and saw your sign for potions and a resting place. After half a year, you had steady business.

It was a good life. It was a simple life. Sure, you constantly felt anxious being by yourself in your tiny home, but part of you knew, logically, that some of the folks in the village would notice if you disappeared, and some of your regular traveling merchant customers would be disappointed if you weren’t here.

But in the back of your mind, in the dark of night, the memory of the bounty hunter in Baldur’s Gate, of those mercenaries in Waterdeep, of the warlock getting eaten alive by a devil, of the demons attacking your village… 

If you had no customers sleeping in your guest tents, then every noise would shatter your calm. You started to advertise your resting site more vigorously, to make sure that every night, someone else would be around. It was a risk, of course. Your guests might be murderers or bandits. 

But you always shook hands before offering a guest tent, so you always knew if someone had bad intentions.

Early in your business, a pair of thugs forced you to entertain them for the night. You offered them a song and a dance to go with their meal.

When they fell into a deep slumber, you had quietly buried them alive on the shores of the Chionthar, letting the wildlife peck at them while they were blissfully unaware of becoming part of the circle of life.

You couldn’t bear to kill them yourself; you didn't want to sense that agony again. Was it more cruel to be eaten alive? Perhaps. But they would never know. Your spell of unassailable sleep was one you crafted, after all. A melody weaved with shadows and shade, a dance designed to hypnotize and mesmerize, a stew laced with valerian and foxglove…

It wasn’t the proudest thing you had done. But it was certainly one of the most life-preserving. And you probably saved someone else from becoming one of their victims in the future. 

You were doing good in the world by silently taking out the trash. At least that's what you told yourself. 

***

You woke up with a cold shiver. You hadn’t thought about that night in a long time. It hadn't been pleasant, but it needed to be done. Fortunately, it was the only time you had to do it. There was a passer-by who had asked about anyone matching the description of the two men you had buried, but you had only shrugged and told them you had seen some folks like that wandering westward. 

You did know how to lie. You did know how to kill. You just didn’t like doing it.

Slowly picking yourself up off the cold stone floor, you gave Owly and Scratch a warm look. The two had fallen asleep together next to you, as if they were keeping you company. My sweet little ones, I love you so.

They both suddenly lifted their heads together and looked towards the entry.

Your seal tingled at the same time, growing and growing, until it felt like power was surging up and down your spine. Gasping, you closed your eyes and concentrated, imagining yourself grabbing an electrified rope and pulling it taut. The energy focused onto a target far above you, moving quickly away from the temple.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you had an inkling.

“C’mon boys, help me pack up,” you told your two animal companions. “I have a feeling we’ll need to leave quickly.”

You were just finishing packing up the communal area when the group appeared, looking exhausted and covered in blood and grime. Shadowheart looked particularly out of sorts. She wasn’t even pushing away Gale, who was hovering next to her, a look of concern etched onto his features.

Wyll waved at you. “Looks like you already anticipated our next move,” he said.

You nodded. “I had a hunch.” You glanced over at Shadowheart, who was heading towards her tent, not looking around. I’ll talk to her later. “Where are we headed next?”

“Back to the Last Light,” Wyll answered. “We need to tell the others what happened.”

“Although they’ll have a good idea, once they see Nightsong soaring in the sky,” Karlach added.

The Nightsong was a person? You only nodded and got to work helping everyone pack up. They’d fill you in on the way back.

***

You had run into several groups of Harpers making their way to the towers, following the streak of moonlight that the Nightsong left in her wake, so by the time you arrived at the Last Light Inn, it was two-thirds empty. Still, it was bustling with energy as all the fighters still present were getting their things together to join the fray, while the non-combatants were preparing supplies.

Jaheira was one of the few remaining, and she came up to your group. “I am guessing this”—she gestured at the light rays above—“is your doing.”

Your group mumbled and shrugged. 

The High Harper shook her head with a smile. “We will meet you at the towers.” Without another word, she took off with a small group of fighters, not waiting for a reply.

As you came closer to the building, Halsin came out to greet you. He took one look at everyone. “Do you need to rest first? Or will you carry on to the towers?”

You looked at your friends. Though they were tired and grimey, they still had a spark in their eyes. They could fight. They could win.

But everyone looked at Shadowheart.

She took a deep breath, as if she was gathering all the strength left in her. “Just give us a moment to wipe the dirt from our faces, then we can go,” she finally said, determination straightening her spine.

Halsin nodded and smiled at everyone. “Good. I will accompany you.” Then he turned to you. “Thaniel and Oliver are resting inside. Could you keep an eye on them?”

You nodded.

The next hour was a blur of everyone getting a bit of a breather, cleaning their weapons, restocking on potions, and getting a small bite to eat before heading back out.

As you were preparing another batch of potions, you felt Astarion’s arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Need a bite?” you asked without looking at him, tipping your neck to one side.

“You’re so thoughtful,” he murmured before sinking his fangs into your neck, holding you tight as he took two strong pulls from you. Letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction, he licked your wound clean and kissed it gently. “Ah, I feel much better.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Who knows? We could die horribly in this next fight.”

You turned around and stared at him, frowning. “Please don’t say that. I want you to live.”

“So do I, darling.” He tapped your nose. “And I have so far. Don’t fret, nothing can keep me away from your delicious self.”

You smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Let’s go!” Wyll announced to the group, leading the way out of the Inn. The others grabbed their packs and followed. You barely got to hug Astarion before he headed out with them.

“Good luck, everyone!” you called out to them as they set off towards the Towers.

Left in the Inn with some of the tieflings, the injured, and the two fey boys, you got to work.

They have their battle to fight, and I have work that I can do. So I’ll do it to the best of my ability.

***

When the ground shook violently later that day, you were both scared and hopeful. And when your companions returned, battered and bruised, yet whole, you breathed a mighty sigh of relief.

But with your friends, came a newcomer. A winged angel, who held Isobel so tenderly in her embrace. You soon learned that she was the Nightsong, Dame Aylin, daughter of Selune herself. Which made her an aasimar. You had only heard of her kind in legends that your father had told you. Greeting her with respect, you thanked her for helping your friends.

“It is they who helped me in my time of great need,” she replied. Then she looked at you for a moment. “How is it that you did not join the battle?”

“She doesn’t have any fighting experience,” Astarion answered in your stead.

Dame Aylin glanced at Astarion. “The girl can answer for herself.” She turned her intense stare towards you. “You have power. Do you not know how to use it?”

You swallowed. “I… I did use it once. But I…” You shrugged helplessly. “I can only create a stationary shield that drains me of my power very quickly. Not much use in a real battle.”

The aasimar observed you in silence for a few extra moments, making you squirm under her scrutinizing gaze. “Then you must train. You wish to help, do you not?”

Astarion finally stepped in between her and you. “She does help. A lot. By helping us.” He turned to you. “Come my dear, I am very hungry.” He proffered his arm to you.

You gladly took it. “Of course.” You bowed to Aylin, not wanting to disrespect her. “I’m afraid I must attend to my companion. Excuse me.”

The two of you scurried away to the back of the building where the bath was.

“Thank you,” you breathed. “I felt like a criminal being interrogated.”

Astarion pulled the curtains closed and began to strip. “She shouldn’t have questioned you so much,” he whispered angrily. “You do plenty to help us. You don’t need to put yourself in more danger on top of that.”

While you understood and agreed with him, a part of you felt a slight sting of disappointment. You couldn’t fight. You didn’t want to fight. But you wanted to protect them.

Why did Dame Aylin think you could join a battle?

You completed heating the water just as Astarion had finished stripping down. Quickly turning around, you heard him climb into the bath with a satisfied sigh. 

“Do you still need me?”

“Always.”

You turned back around, keeping your gaze focused on his face. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”

He blinked. “That… that sounds nice.”

You came around and grabbed the shampoo bar. “Dunk your head in the water first.”

He did as you told him, and you quietly hummed a tune while you washed and rinsed his hair. You even dried and brushed it, just as you did before. When you were done, you turned around and let him dry himself off with a towel while you cleaned his armor and clothes with a cantrip. As he was getting dressed, you asked timidly about the battle, unsure if he wanted to relive it so soon. But he graciously obliged and weaved you a tale, the cadence of his voice soothing your soul even though the content was horrifying. An elder brain, headed to the city? Gods, what a mess.

When the two of you returned to the common area, the others were drinking and eating, quietly gathered by the bar.

“Must be nice, having someone to bathe you,” Shadowheart teased.

You glanced at Gale. He subtly shook his head.

“You could too, if you’d let him,” Astarion sniped back.

Everyone went eerily quiet. 

Godsdammit! “So Astarion was just telling me about the battle. I’m glad you all came out alive,” you quickly said, trying to change the subject. “So what’s our next step?”

“We follow the elder brain to Baldur’s Gate,” Gale said. “We need to go Sorcerous Sundries first though, so we can research more on the crown on its head. That way we can learn how to control it.”

“You mean destroy it,” Wyll corrected.

“Let’s table that conversation until we learn more about it,” Gale replied. “For now, we rest, then head out to the Gate at first light.”

***

Sleeping in a real bed for the first time in a long while, you lay next to Astarion, watching his facial features. He must have been really tired, for he barely took two mouthfuls of blood from you before laying back and closing his eyes.

“You’re not hungry?” you asked him.

“There was a lot of fresh blood in the tower,” he mumbled. “I drank plenty to keep up my strength. So many people to stab.” He sighed happily. “It was wonderful.”

You chuckled.

He opened one eye to look at you. “Did you find that funny? I thought you would be rather horrified.”

You shrugged. “I can have a gallows sense of humor.”

He hummed. “I learn something new about you every day.”

“Well, I can’t very well bore you, now can I?”

“That wouldn’t be very fun.” He reached out and pulled you into his arms. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

“Sweet dreams, my star.” You winced after you said it. Seems a bit on the nose, doesn’t it?

He smiled, his eyes closed. “Don’t say that in front of anyone else”

“Of course,” you snickered. “It’ll just be for us.”

“Us. I do love the sound of that.”

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

End Notes: So a purple crocus flower can represent hope and optimism, and since the autumn crocus in the game are purple, I thought this would be a good little present that Scratch brings you. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you thought in the comments, I thrive off your feedback! Last chapter is the end of Act II, we're getting closer to the Gate!

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N – There is Alastor slander in this. He’s an amazing character so far, and I know some people love him, but he’s literally evil. Also, I messed up the timeline again 🤦‍♀️ I completely forgot that there's 5 months between the first extermination and when Lucifer comes to the hotel. But I have a plan to kinda fix it.. Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 5

Radio Bitch

The next morning found Lucifer and Caelwen in the fallen angel’s workshop. He had decided last night, as they gathered every book and scroll that mentioned bindrunes, that they’d be more comfortable in there and could have lunch brought to them. So they wouldn’t have to stop working through the spell, of course! Definitely not because he wanted to invite her into one of his most personal spaces and show her the ducks he was so passionate about! Absolutely nothing like that. Nope.

Caelwen had been taken aback at the sheer number of rubber ducks that greeted her when Lucifer opened the door. She might not have been tall, but some of the piles had to have been almost twice her height! Unfortunately, Lucifer took her look of shock as a negative and let his anxiety override his mouth. He spent the next 10 minutes darting around the room, grabbing random ducks and shoving them into the Nephilim’s arms while explaining what each one did.

“-and this one has a knife inside, for self-defense. This one can be warm or cold to help if you’re sick! Oh and-“

Caelwen had sat the pile of ducks in her arms down before grabbing Lucifer by the shoulders. She leveled him with a gentle stare then pulled away once she was sure he wouldn’t dart off again. *They’re lovely, Lucifer. Truthfully, I’m amazed by how many there are and all that they can do. And one day maybe we can organize them properly and you can tell me about every last one. For now, though, how about we sit down and see if we can’t finish this spell?*

Her genuine smile and kind words eased Lucifer’s racing mind and brought him mostly back from his spiral into a mental breakdown. He loved this room but, apparently, his depression and loneliness were tied rather closely to it. Lucifer grabbed Caelwen’s hands from his shoulders and returned her smile, leading her to the couch near the workshop door. They sat down next to each other, thighs grazing just slightly, as Lucifer snapped his fingers and made their books appear. Caelwen picked up the notebook she had been writing in last night and flipped to her page where they were putting together runes to make their own bindrune that, with Lucifer’s magic, should cancel out the one Adam used.

The next few hours were spent with the two leaning on each other, Lucifer reading from books or scrolls while Caelwen jotted down anything important to what they needed. Soon the page she was working on was full of various runes and notes about how they worked or what they would mean when placed with another rune. The Nephilim tapped Lucifer’s knee and showed him what she had so far. *I think we might have everything here. It doesn’t seem like it needs to be intricate as long as the right intentions are behind it.*

The fallen angel took in the messy scribbles on the page, making out the different runes that were underlined and what they were for, before his attention drifted to green eyes staring at him. The woman looked so hopeful and eager, excitement pouring off of her as she grinned. For a moment, Lucifer took all of her in; from her bright eyes and messy hair slipping from the bun on top of her head, to the faint dimple on the left side of her face and the way her nose scrunched just slightly. Only a week with this woman and he was falling rapidly.

Caelwen had noticed Lucifer’s lack of response and his staring, taking a moment herself to admire the man in front of her and wonder how she had gotten so lucky to earn his attention. His hair was pushed back like normal with just a few pieces falling across his forehead, his smile was small but oh so welcoming, and his yellow and red eyes were soft and warm. They had both started leaning closer towards the other, like magnets pulling each other in.

Suddenly a song played from Lucifer’s pocket, startling the two and sending Lucifer to the floor in surprise.

He fumbled in his pockets for his phone, mentally cursing the offensive device for ruining whatever was about to happen. Once out of his pocket, Lucifer looked to see who dared call him before freezing when he saw the name – Charlie.

“Daughter? Daughter! Daughter calling?!” He panicked, jumping up and beginning to pace. “Oh! Um-uh ‘Hello Charlie’ ‘Hey Char-Char’ No! No, that’s not good. This has to be perfect.” Lucifer paused before finally clicking to answer the phone. “Hey Bitch!”

Caelwen rolled her eyes and chuckled silently. This all-powerful angel was so awkward it was adorable. The Nephilim sat through the phone call watching Lucifer as he paced around the workshop. His nervousness was cute but also concerning; was his relationship with Charlie always this strained? Poor things. Charlie had seemed like such a sweet girl, she hoped they’d be able to mend their bond, they both deserved to know how wonderful the other was.

~Ding~

A quiet chime pulled Caelwen from her thoughts and to her own phone to see a couple messages from Nia.

Nia: Hey boss, not a huge deal or like an issue, but could you maybe check in at that hotel place? Rocco says the radio demon there is making shit difficult. And apparently, one of the other demons is sort of psycho? Not sure about that part, but probably worth looking into?

Nia: If you’re busy, though, I can totally do it. Just not till tomorrow. Maybe. Depends on this bitch Velvette and how many more times she barges in here looking for you.

“I’ll be there in an hour!” Lucifer hung up the phone, excited and feeling lighter than air. His daughter invited him to see her project! Take that depression! He spun in a circle, excitement pumping through his veins before he spotted Caelwen still sitting on the couch looking at him and giggling silently.

*I take it that was a good phone call?*

“ Oh, uh.. yeah it was. Sorry for sort of-.. it was just, just Charlie and it was the first time she’s called me! Well since she asked me to meet with you. But this time, she invited me over! Although that does mean we’ll have to come back to the spell later… I hope that’s okay?” Lucifer was worried he might have upset Caelwen until he saw her smile at him brightly.

Caelwen waved off Lucifer’s apology before signing, *It’s no problem! I’ve waited this long, what’s one more day? Besides, I have something I need to do as well. Nia just messaged me and needs me to check in on the hounds I have at Charlie’s hotel, make sure everything is going as it should.*

The fallen angel’s shoulders slumped in relief, greatful he hadn’t upset his companion. “Thank you for understanding. I promise, as soon as I get back, we will set your soul free. And then- wait did you say you need to go to the hotel too? Did something happen?!”

Lucifer was bursting with panic again - was that why Charlie had called him? Why hadn’t she sounded more urgent?!

Caelwen jumped up from the couch and walked to Lucifer, cupping his face in her hands and making him look at her. *Everything is fine. I promise. It’s just one of the demons there is making things tricky for my employees. I’m just going to make sure he remembers his place, that’s all. I’m sure Charlie is fine. Please, breathe*

Cealwen began taking deep breaths, holding eye contact with Lucifer until he followed suit. As he calmed down, the fallen angel closed his eyes and relaxed into his companions hands still holding his face.

The woman smiled softly, pulling her hands away slowly. *I need to go now though. For one, it’s probably best demons don’t see us walking around together. And secondly, I have a feeling I’ll need a moment with Charlie before you pull her away. The issue seems to be with a demon staying in the hotel that I refuse to allow around my hounds.* Caelwen’s eyes narrowed when she mentioned the issue, a frown set in, and the woman’s aura darkened briefly before she shook it off noticing Lucifer’s concerned gaze.

“Should, uh should I be worried about this demon?” Lucifer asked with an eyebrow raised slightly.

*Of course not! I can handle myself and this demon just fine and one of the hounds I have stationed at the hotel will be there.* Caelwen’s grin turned sadistic, *I dare him to try one of his tricks. His sabbatical will be much more permanent this time if he does.*

Lucifer couldn’t decide if he was concerned, intrigued, or turned on by the Nephilim in front of him; one minute she was so sweet and kind, the next she looked ready to brutally murder anyone that got in her way.

The woman checked the time on her phone, *I should get going. I’ll still be there when you arrive, but I want to handle my mess ASAP.* She waved to Lucifer before leaving the workshop and allowing her shadows to surround and transport her to the Hazbin Hotel.

Outside the hotel, Madame C was greeted by Rocco who had just finished a lap of the perimeter. One of her more mild employees, Rocco stood almost 7 feet tall with an average build, but what he lacked in muscles he more than made up for in his agility.

“Hey boss lady, Nia said you’d be by. Glad you could make it so quickly, honestly. Listen, I know we’re supposed to just power through the annoying or rough clients, but the radio demon is… well he’s not-“ Rocco cut off, a shiver running down his and Madaem C’s spines. They both turned to see the radio demon himself walking up to them, his Cheshire grin firmly in place.

“Hellooo good friends! What a lovely day it is. And how wonderful to see you again Madame C, such a shame you left before we could chat the other day. Now, what exactly brings you to our lovely hotel, dear? Looking to join our cause, perhaps?” Alastor had stopped close to Madame C and proceeded to lean in towards her face as he spoke.

Rocco made to step forward before he felt and saw his boss’s aura rise and darken more than he thought possible. Everyone at the company knew she could be scary, it was how she had earned a place as an overlord while owning no souls, but this chilled his blood and made him take a step back. Rocco even noticed Alastor’s eye twitch slightly.

Madame C’s eyes had begun to glow an eerie neon green and she tilted her head to the side, a wide evil grin rivaling Alastor’s splitting the darkness shielding the rest of her face. Alastor’s radio cane crackled to life sounding like someone switching rapidly between stations.

Suddenly, snippets of recordings could be heard with certain words standing out clearly. “You.. need to…back-UP! My… hounds are…not… FOR.. you… Al..-store. Don’t make… me…put you… in… -your place. AGAIN” Rocco was frozen in shock, he didn’t know his boss could do that.

As the two demons stared each other down, footsteps could be heard coming towards the group. Rocco looked out of the corner of his eye, afraid to fully look away from his boss should she need him, to see Princess Charlie grinning and waving at them.

“Ohmygod, hi! It’s so nice to see you again! Rocco said you might be stopping by soon. Is everything …okaayyy?” The princess trailed off, noticing the tension between Alastor and Madame C. “Uhh.. you two.. know each other, I’m guessing? Heheh…” Charlie trailed off, looking between the two demons and hell hound.

The two demons continued to hold each other’s stare until finally Alastor straightened and looked to Charlie, “Of course! Madame C and I have known each other for quite some time. We’re both very powerful Overlords as well and tend to run in similar circles due to that. She’s a lovely woman!”

Madame C schooled her features and tamed her aura, before turning to Charlie, even though only her eyes were fully visible she refused to let the radio bitch see the affect he had. Her soul hurt to put the strain on it she needed when using the amount of power she had. She grasped her hands together tightly to steady the slight shake and gave a small bow to the princess. She turned, looking to see if Rocco could translate for her, and when he nodded, her hands began to move.

“Yes. Alastor and I met when he was a young demon and tried to kill me.” Charlie and Rocco’s eyes widened, the hell hound stuttering a little, while Alastor’s twitched. “Obviously, I survived. But because of that day as well as his… later behavior, I’m afraid he is not included in the protection my hounds offer. I was called here because he has apparently been making Rocco and Echo’s jobs more difficult than need be.”

Madame C’s face stayed neutral the entire time her hell hound spoke for her, she refused to lie or let Alastor get away with anything he was attempting. She noticed Alastor’s hands clench at his cane.

“That’s… um.. I am so sorry to hear about that… I can’t kick Alastor out though, he’s our hotelier! It’s thanks to him that we’ve been able to make this place as nice as it is so quickly!” Receiving no response from the shadowed demon, Charlie clapped her hands together. “Weellll, how about we all head inside! My dad will be here any moment and when he leaves, you can come to my office and maybe we can see what we can work out? Please?”

Madame C couldn’t say no to the face Charlie gave her, the pleading eyes and hopeful smile reminded her so much of the fallen angel she had spent the last week with. She gave a sign signaling her agreement. Then signed to Rocco, *Take me somewhere secluded please, I wish to talk without the radio bitch hanging over my shoulder.*

The hell hound gave his boss a smirk before turning to Charlie, “You mind if boss lady and I head up to the second floor? We’ll keep an eye on stuff, just need to give her my reports. Kinda private business shit, ya know?” Charlie gave the two a thumbs up before jogging back into the hotel. Rocco and Madame C turned to where Alastor had been only to see him dissolve into shadows.

*Fucking creep.*

“You said it boss! Haha! C’mon, I know where we can go and talk while keeping an eye on everything.”

Together, hell hound and shadow-cloaked woman headed into the hotel and up the stairs, moving around the balcony overlooking the hotel entryway until they reached a corner. Madame C looked over the railing to see the demons in the hotel moving about to prepare for Lucifer, hanging banners and straightening furniture. A small demon ran around stabbing bugs while giggling maniacally, a cat demon with wings she recognized as an ex-Overlord was stood behind a bar drinking straight from a bottle, a snake demon slithered towards a table with a tray of cookies, and lastly a spider demon she recognized as one Valentino had contracted her hounds to protect was adjusting it’s makeup in a small mirror.

Rocco stood off to Madame C’s side, arms crossed as he eyed the demons below him. “They’re a pretty decent bunch, not too much trouble. Spider is Angel Dust, I’ve worked with him before - keeps trying to make a pass at me. The little one is Nifty, apparently Alastor owns her soul, she cleans and kinda creeps me out. Snake guy is new, Sir Pentious I think, was a spy for Vox but got found out preeetty quickly. Heh poor guy. He was able to rip a bit of Alastor’s coat at one point though so props there. Girl attached to Charlie is her girlfriend, Vaggie. I like her, she kinda reminds me of Carina, very drill sergeant vibe. And then Husker, probably the easiest one to put up with, doesn’t do much except drink. And then there’s Alastor.”

Madame C nodded as each demon was named, taking in everything Rocco told her. They continued to observe as Madame C let her thoughts travel to how she could still pay Charlie the debt she owed for connecting her and Lucifer without keeping her hounds near that radio asshole.

Charlie opened the door to the hotel and Lucifer grabbed her in a big hug. “CHAAARLIE! Oh its so good to see you!”

“Hey da-“ Charlie choked out. “It’s good to see you too, dad.” The two pulled away and the blonde girl cleared her throat. “Welcome! To the Hazbin Hotel!” she exclaimed.

Lucifer leaned down to pet a small cat before two winged goat-like demons flew to him and he pet them as well. Lucifer proceeded to take in the hotel lobby, while it wasn’t in shambles, it was far from ideal. It definitely needed some work. “Oh! What in the unholy Hell is that?!” he exclaimed when he saw the bar.

When Madame C saw Alastor appear next to the king of hell and explain that he thought it added color, she rolled her eyes. And when the radio demon put his hand on Charlie’s shoulder a few moments later to say he was happy to fulfill her bizarre requests, the puzzle pieces snapped together in her mind. Alastor was up to something and he needed the support of Charlie. Knowing the radio demon, it’d be best to ensure someone made sure Charlie was never put in a position to need Alastor’s help.

Pulling away from the edge as Lucifer and Alastor began to argue more, Madame C motioned Rocco to follow her away from the crowd and into a nearby hallway. They both looked around to ensure no one was watching them. *I still have some personal business to finish that may take a few more days. If Charlie agrees, I will take your place here when I’m done. Then I can keep a close eye on that radio jerk and keep you all away from him.*

“I appreciate that boss lady. We don’t mind every one else here. Honestly, if it weren’t for Alastor, this would be the best gig I’d ever had – minus when I’m on rotation for the main office!” Rocco chuckled while shoving his hands in his pant’s pockets.

The two spent a few more minutes catching up on everything that had happened with the hotel before a loud bang rattled the hotel. Darting towards the entrance, they saw the hotel in chaos, the front wall was littered with holes, some of the carpet was on fire and most of the demons from the hotel were running for cover.

Madame C allowed her shadows to transport her and Rocco to the main floor, appearing close to Lucifer and Charlie. The demoness turned to her hell hound, *Make sure everyone is safe please. I’ll see what I can do to start patching the wall and holding the sharks off.* Rocco gave a quick nod before darting off to start rounding up the hotel's sinners.

“It doesn’t matter how well intentioned you are, they’re always going to disappoint you!” Lucifer was smug and as much as she agreed with him to an extent, Madame C was still annoyed he’d rather rub in how awful sinners were than help keep the loan sharks from destroying his daughter’s hotel; they’d definitely have to have a chat about that later.

Nifty was trying to clean up some of the debris that kept falling when Sir Pentious grabbed her as a piece of wall came crashing to the ground and Rocco quickly swept both of them up and away to safety.

Vaggie came out and had a spear ready to protect whomever she could, but Alastor pushed her aside, “No, my dear, leave it to me. It’s time I remind everyone why I’m here.”

“Finally! Took ya long enough.” Mimzy stated from the bar.

“A reminder to all not to mess with the Radio Demon.” The radio frequency hurt Madame C’s ears. Watching Alastor make his way outside to kill the loan sharks, she rolled her eyes at his theatrics. At least he was helping in a way. The woman began to create shadow curtains to cover the holes in the walls and smother the fire around her; it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would help until they could be repaired.

“- How come he can have faith in me but my own father can’t?” Madame C tuned back in to the conversation near her between Charlie and Lucifer. So this was where they stood, Charlie believed sinners were worth saving and helping while Lucifer thought them to be violent psychopaths.

“Dad… just.. help me.” Charlie pleaded.

Madame C looked away from the two, Lucifer had told her a little about being kicked out of Heaven and how he never wanted to lose everything he held dear again. Hearing him sing about it to Charlie nearly brought tears to her eyes. She shook it off, going to stand near everyone else in the lobby as they watched the bonding moment between father and daughter. It was so heart-warming but also broke Madame C’s heart; there was no chance she’d ever have something like this, her mother was long gone and her father was an asshole that only cared about himself.

Soon, Lucifer had left, promising Charlie a meeting with Heaven and wishing her luck. As everyone started to scatter and clean up, Madame C approached Charlie and Vaggie with Rocco at her side. “I know a lot has happened that needs your attention, but could we proceed with our meeting? I have a personal matter to get back to that can’t wait much longer.” The hell hound translated for his boss.

“Oh! Yes, of course, follow us.” Charlie and Vaggie led the two up stairs with Alastor watching from below. Before following the girls around a corner, Madame C turned to look at him and made his radio crackle as a warning, he was not welcome anywhere near this meeting.

Sitting in the office Charlie had brought them to, Madame C and Rocco wasted no time and got right to the point. “I apologize for having to do this, but I must stand by my rules. Unfortunately, the radio demon is not one that is welcome to the services I provide. Not only has he tried to kill me, but he has caused harm and even killed two of my hounds before. I understand he has a place here, though, and would never ask you to do anything you don’t wish to.”

“So then what are we supposed to do? You owe Charlie the protection because she got you that meeting with her dad.” Vaggie was defensive - even though she wasn’t fond of Alastor either, she didn’t want her girlfriend to get screwed out of anything she deserved.

“Yes, I do owe her – quite a lot more than I may ever truly be able to repay – but I do have a solution. My personal matter should be resolved in a couple days, after which I will be available to personally guard this hotel.” Charlie was confused and began to speak before Madame C began signing again. “I know what I told you before. The matter I met with Lucifer about will soon be resolved and will ensure I no longer need constant guards. Should I feel as though I need one whilst here, though, I will cover their pay.”

Charlie was shocked and then giddy, remembering what Madame C had needed to talk to Lucifer about. “You mean my dad was able to help? That’s amaaazing! “ She clapped her hands, bouncing in her seat. Vaggie stood next to her confused, looking back and forth between Charlie and the demon in front of her.

“Yes, it is amazing. I’m forever grateful. But if those conditions are acceptable, then I really must leave.” Madame C stood from her chair, holding a hand out to Charlie the shake. After settling the agreement, the demon turned towards Rocco to give him a nod before she melted into her shadows and left.

A few moments later she appeared at Lucifer’s front door, unable to go further due to protections he had in place to keep out anyone that wasn’t invited in first. After an imp let her in, the shadows around the Nephilim dropped to reveal an exhausted Caelwen. Trying to shake the tiredness clawing at her eyelids, she made her way to Lucifer’s workshop.

Caelwen entered the room and saw Lucifer on the couch with his head in his hands. She walked over to the couch and plopped down before leaning against the fallen angel. She knew he was worried about his daughter, Heaven surely wouldn’t be kind to the daughter of a fallen angel.

Lucifer lifted his head slightly and turned it to look at Caelwen, “I can’t lose her. I already lost everything I had in Heaven, Lilith left me, I can’t lose Charlie before I even get to know who she is.” His distress was evident to the woman next to him as she grabbed his face to bring him from his slouched position.

*You won’t lose her. Charlie is strong and she has an amazing support system that will help her bounce back if need be. You just need to believe in her and support her in whatever way you can.*

“You’re right, I know that, I just need to accept she’s not a little girl that I can hide away.” Lucifer gave a sad chuckle. Before Caelwen could continue to reassure him, the fallen angel straightened himself up more and snapped his fingers to summon her notebook from that morning. “We have more pressing things to tend to than my worrying! Let’s get this show rolling, I’m ready to see if we got this right.”

Caelwen knew they’d talk more about his depression and anxiety later, she wouldn’t let him continue on this self-destructive path. For now, though, they could focus on finishing the bindrune and spell they had been working towards for a week now.

So for the next two hours, Caelwen and Lucifer sketched bindrunes, making combination after combination to see if any had even a slight effect on the Nephilim. Finally, Caelwen was in the midst of making what had to be the thousandth bindrune when she felt a light tug at her chest. She paused, erased a line and the feeling went away. Added the line back and there was that tug again. She added another rune they had on the list and the tug became a pull that made her drop the pencil and rub at her chest.

Lucifer looked over at the sound of the pencil dropping and noticed Caelwen rubbing at her chest with a pained expression. He grabbed the paper she had been looking at and examined it, looking between it and Caelwen a grin growing on his face. “You did it! We’ve got the last bit we need!”

*Yeah, hurts a bit more than I’d hoped honestly. So maybe we move this party along, please?” the grimace on her face was morphing into teeth grinding together as Lucifer held the paper closer to her.

He pulled back quickly to ease her pain. “Right. Right! Of course, sorry! Let’s get everything sorted; you grab a pillow for your head and I’ll get the book with the incantation. And I’ll leave this here so you can breathe a bit.” Lucifer began to rush around the room, locking the door and rummaging until he found the book they had marked with the spell needed.

When he came back towards the couch, he noticed Caelwen had cleared some space on the floor and laid a pillow down. The woman was sitting on the floor ready to lay down but hesitated. Over 500 years had led to this moment, and she was so nervous. What if it didn’t work? What if it did but it killed her in the process? What if she had misread all of the signs from Lucifer and he kicked her out after all of this was over?

As Lucifer kneeled next to Caelwen, she looked up to him, eyes wide and scared. *Before we do this, I need to tell you something. No matter what happens, I have thoroughly enjoyed this last week. You are an amazing, wonderful man and I can never begin to repay you.* Lucifer tried to speak, but the Nephilim in front of him put a finger to his mouth. *I hope I haven’t misread the signs from you, but if I have, I’m terribly sorry for this and will accept whatever consequences come from it.*

Lucifer was confused for a split second before he felt hands pull at the lapels of his coat and soft lips met his roughly. While he was still processing the moment, Caelwen pushed him away and looked to the side unable to face seeing rejection quite yet. When the pieces finally clicked, Lucifer blinked slowly staring at the woman in front of him that still kept him held at arms length. Carefully, he reached a hand up to cup her jaw and turn her face to him looking into her eyes softly.

Lucifer pulled Caelwen in close, lips almost touching, “You didn’t misread the signs, I promise.” Their lips met again, softer and slower this time but with no less emotion. Lucifer cupped Caelwen’s jaw gently, holding her to him while her hands renewed their grip on his suit.

They parted slightly, noses touching and staring into each other’s eyes. “You are one of the most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I hope that when you are free of this seal, you’ll stay with me? No matter what happens, I don’t know that I want to spend even a day apart.” Lucifer’s voice was like honey, and Caelwen couldn’t agree fast enough, nodding her head quickly with a brilliant smile taking over her face.

The two kissed, quicker this time, now having a new motive to finish breaking the seal. The sooner they finished this, the sooner they could go back to kissing and exploring this new level of their relationship.

Caelwen laid back on the pillow and ensured Lucifer had access to the center of her chest where the original bindrune sat. The faintest white outline was showing, the seal already reacting to its counterpart being close by. Lucifer pricked one of his fingers before beginning to draw the symbol Caelwen had made on her chest. As he was drawing the last rune, the Nephilim below him was clenching her fists at her sides and gritting her teeth. He hated to see her in pain but knew they couldn’t stop now. Grabbing the book from his kneeling position, Lucifer flipped to the marked page and began reciting the words on the paper.

Just like when Adam and Lute had done this to her all those years ago, a burning sensation enveloped Caelwen, this time it started out centered on her heart before spreading outwards. She let out a silent scream, the fire squeezing at her heart was mind numbing, black spots beginning to creep in at the edges of her vision.

Lucifer’s heart was breaking watching Caelwen struggle, he tried stroking her hair away from her face and rubbing her shoulders to soothe her slightly but it wasn’t working and he couldn’t interfere while the new magic unwound the old.

Caelwen was doing her best to not attempt to claw out her chest, she couldn’t mess up the new bindrune burning its way into her skin. Fuck, she doesn’t remember it being this bad. Slowly, after 10 minutes of agony that had felt like hours, the burning cooled and Caelwen felt like she could finally breathe. Her body ached and her head was spinning. Turning to look at Lucifer, Caelwen managed a weak smile, reaching for him when the dark spots finally claimed her vision and she passed out.

Lucifer stared down at Caelwen, her hair had come loose and was spread around her head, her face relaxed and peaceful. When she still hadn’t opened her eyes after a minute, he began to panic. He leaned down to see if she was still breathing and, after feeling her soft breaths against his face, he pulled back and tried stroking her cheek, shaking her shoulders, pinching her arm, yet nothing worked. Caelwen wouldn’t wake up.

Lucifer gathered the woman in his arms, holding her close as he leaned against the front of the couch. He kept stroking her hair, willing her eyes to open for over an hour before finally falling asleep.

A/N – So, yeah. This feels longer than any chapter so far, but this is a pretty big episode, probably my second favorite of the whole season. Also, to solve the timeline issue, it’s just gonna be Heaven being jerks about meeting with Charlie. Totally NOT a coma… maybe. We’ll see.

I wrote this all in a day, btw so if there’s issues other than the timeline, I’m sorry. I just really wanted to get this out since I won’t be writing much, if at all, until Friday

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@leximus98

[maegorsbignaturals]

Does Undead!Maegor know he is dead? Like he knows subconsciously that he's completely dead and all his efforts of having a child have gone to waste???

Sorry for taking so long to answet this uni has been hell recently and when i am not doing hw i am sleeping sorry!!!

I think deep inside he knows there is something wrong inside of him, like things are not quite right, you know? First because he notices the way Tyanna and Visenya looks at him after the trial with the warrior's sons. He wakes up in this slumber chambers and the first thing he notices is the hard sharping and loud pain on the back of his head, a pain that got him groaning and puts him on a bad mood instantly. The second thing he notices are the faces he see, Tyanna and his mother look at him with expressions mixed with bewilderment, horror and... relief? Between his mother's explanations and Tyanna's kisses on his knuckles, he barely gets anything of the candles in the room positioned in a ceremonious way, the blood smeared all across the floor in runes that he doesn't understand and that he is naked, on the cold hard floor and that those are not his chambers.

I like to think that he goes for a... grief process for himself. First the denial. He knows there is something wrong with him, but he tries to not put a lot of attention on it. Between the Faith's subverssion, Aegon's effortless rebellion and the fucking headache he finds a scape into this toughts. But it is a futile scape, they never really leave. They are present when he eats, He doesn't understands why Tyanna urges him to eat, when he never gets hungry anymore? During his war campaigns he rarely gets any hunger, perhaps is his worry with the things going around, perhaps is that he never gets his guard down, but the truth is that he ever gets that need to eat, either way, he neither enjoys it now. His favourite food barely has any taste now, it is just that grumous and tasteless food bolus moving around his mouth and going down his troath in a motion that Maegor never found uncomfortable, until now. He doesn't understand why he doesn't enjoy that simple pleasure anymore. If he wants the wine to make him tickles, it needs to be extra strong for him, or drink at least three jars by himself in less than two hours (not that it is hard with the tasteless mouth of his).

Then it comes the Anger. The Gods must have really cursed him, he doesn't understand why all attempts of making an heir are fruitless. Him, the king! A strong man on the top of his life with the strongest dragon in all the seven kingdoms, unable to make an heir for himself! Was this some kind of twisted joke from the destiny? A mock from the gods?! He cannot avoid unleashing his anger against those who are not of his like. He punishes them, until their limp bodies fall at his feet. A cold shiver rans down his spine when he sees their lifeless eyes and notices it is like his own... It is in moments like that when the thought plumps into his mind, but as fast as it arrives it leaves. It is not possible, Maegor had never heard of a man bringed back to life! That is absurd, a tale that young squires tell each other in front of the fires of a camping.

After anger, negotiation precedes. The failure to not have an heir doesn't fall upon him, but on his wives. Ceryse was infertile and Alys was a traitorous bitch. They are the ones to blame for his lack of an heir, not him, clearly not him, right? So if it was not with them, then it must be with other women. Women who are fertile! Women whose bodies will be able to be give him an heir! And so the black brides are brought in. But little to none the brides are able to do something for him, and it is just more obvious than before that his failures has something to do with him and the way they recoil to their touch, not only thanks to his cruelness, but also thanks to his cold hands, frozen hands that are as cold as the fists of the first men. They recoil, even at the slightest of brushes, they recoil when he looks at them in the eye, and they are unable to look at his light pale eyes. The scented cloths they put over their noses when he gets close to them makes him feel clearly irritated. Yet, He thinks that those are normal ways to act in their situations. He is no idiot, he knows those women fear him, the only thing they can put to blame is their lack of efforts to give him an heir... because it is their lack of efforts, and not his own body, right? Right? He thinks of this for a while, until he fiercely questions Tyanna about this, believing she is the one to blame for his lack of heir. Yet, he only finds a confirmation of what he must have been dreading, fearing...

The depression sinks in. He feels utterly lost for some time. Undead, Tyanna said, or at least that is what Maegor was able to hear before she began to spurt and scream and cry on what her and his mother had done to bring him back. Maegor finally recognizes the only one to blame for the fear and lack of heir is him, and only him. He navigates some moments about what does it meant to be undead. Is he just a moving corpse? What is him? So worried it is by this thoughts that the news of the realm giving him the back barely worries him by now.

The acceptance arrives the next morning after his war council. His body looks like he has been dead for a while.

[illarian-rambling]

3, 4, and 12 for Mashal and Astra

I answered three here, but yeah four and twelve!

How would they describe each other if asked? Physically? In personality?

Mashal describing Astra: "She's beautiful. Maybe not beautiful like a painting, but beautiful like a piece of street art that you know you'll never see the equal of again. She has long curly hair, the color of spilled ink. Her skin is a teakwood brown, with patches across her mouth and right eye the color of fresh snow. Likewise, one eyebrow and one lock of hair in the middle of her forehead are ivory white. Her eyes remind me of the color of a bluejay, probably because they're so bright and always moving. The right one is a bit paler and grayer than the left. Usually, she wears colorful makeup. She always has a smile or a scowl or a frown; she isn't coy with her feelings. Her stature is short and curvy. I could go on. As a person, she's loud about everything. She's loud about what she loves and hates, loud when she tinkers, loud when she tells stories to make me laugh. There's just so much spirit to her. Even if that, uh, gets us in trouble sometimes. No, I won't pretend she can't be a little much on occasion. But it's all done out of good intentions, and better too much than not enough, right? She's the greatest mage I know; not just for her skill, but for her compassion, her intensity.... Oh gods, I've been talking for too long, haven't I?"

Astra describing Mashal: "Well, it ain't exactly on the outside what matters, cause that ain't him, but I reckon an overview can't hurt none. He's damn tall. Taller than ya think, and broad too. A machine built for war. His platin' is bronze, and he usually keeps it at a pretty shine, only a little rust 'round the joints. Underneath, his chassis is steel, with runes and hydraulics beneath that. Now, he's had two faces in his time; the first that visionless bitch Vermir made, the second I got from a friend a' mine. Vermir's face was shoddy work - just two glass discs for eyes and a slit mouth. His new face is much perdier. It's got a nose and cheekbones and all the bell n' whistles. The eyelids, eyebrows, and corners a' the mouth even move! He usually wears some sorta head scarf on account a' I think he's embarrassed 'bout not havin' any hair. His clothes are pretty baggy too - metal joints snag somethin' fierce on tight fabric. He's always tryin' to hide all that shiny bronze, even though he takes such good care of it. Mashal hides lotsa things. Not exactly the sort you'd expect to do that, huh? He hides how much magic frightens 'im, how much being in this improper form hurts, hides how deep his hate runs. The one thing he never hides though, is how much he cares. If you mean somethin' to Mashal, he'll let ya know. He's an honest man and he trusts freely - maybe to freely. I mean, he trusts me and that one helluva gamble. Gods, he's a good man, though. The best. The best man I've ever known."

Do they have any affection for each other? How do they show it?

Mashal cared for Astra first as the person who saved his life and offered to help him fix it, then as the woman he fell secretly in love with. He has a deep affection towards her. Maybe some of that is just the fact that she was the only person who really talked to him when he woke up, but what love blooms separate from its particular circumstances, even if those are more normal ones? He shows his affection by listening to her stories, helping her with magic, and generally spending time with her. Very much a quality time guy.

Astra cared for Mashal at first due to nothing but basic human dignity. She found him on the side of the road half-dead; of course, she was going to help him. Later, as they spent time on the road and bonded over stories, he became her first real friend in the whole of her adult life. Astra was a very lonely person for a long time. Mashal broke her out of that, and she will forever love him for it, even if she hasn't realized the true direction of that love yet. Her shows of affection are very much gift-based. A new set of hand embroidered clothes, a movable face after she noticed he didn't like his old one, an awesome sword arm. Gifts are Astra's love language.

Thanks for the asks! These two are the only proper couple I've ever written, so I kinda gotta gush over them being cute <3

[hazbincalifornia]

Showtime

Chapter 65: The other shoe drops.

Ao3 link

Blitzo made his way to the door to see that Stolas had left a portal behind him, open to the back of the crowd and tucked between buildings so he wouldn’t pop out like a well-bred show pony. That was nice of him- especially considering right now Blitzo mostly just wanted to curl up and watch the show from somewhere more comfortable than the middle of the sweaty, pushy crowd where half a dozen hicks would be gawking at the waddling wonder. He grabbed his holster just in case- with how pumped up these chucklefucks were, somebody going a little hog-wild and it fucking with the baby wasn’t out of the question. Baby deserved to watch the show in peace too.

Glancing back, the Rough ‘N Tumbleweed wasn’t far- he could plop his ass down on M+M’s bed and still get a good view. Bingo. It would probably mean taking a few stairs, but getting to sit on something actually comfortable promised to be worth it. He could already see that Stolas was rifling through the book and murmuring something to himself- practicing, probably. Dork. The sides of his lips twitched as he headed for the front door- thankfully, they’d left it unlocked since they probably weren’t planning to be out for long. Anybody who knew who lived there wouldn’t dare try to pull shit anyway.

Blitzo had only taken a few steps inside when he heard a creak from the ceiling above him.

That was… weird. Wouldn’t everybody be out watching the show? He was pretty sure he’d caught sight of Sallie May as well as Millie’s parents, so that would just leave M+M, and he couldn’t imagine Millie wouldn’t have dragged Moxxie out to the front row. His tail twitched as he strained to listen, but after the creak, there was silence, silence-

A window opening.

Maybe they just wanted a higher angled view, same as him? The dread starting to boil in his gut wasn’t so sure. He grabbed the banister and gritted his teeth, then dragged himself up, up, up.

Whether the heart was wearing off or his currently baby-laden gut didn’t want to play ball was anyone’s guess, but he could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck by the time he reached the top. One door was open, with the murmured voices of the crowd drifting through the open window...

…And Striker was there, positioning a rifle that glowed a haunting, sterile pearl.

The room had the faintest trace of Loona’s fur that mixed with the open air, a thin comfort when it was smothered in dusty leather and the stink of a holy weapon. Striker’s tail rattled and a grin stretched so far across his face Blitzo could see it from the back as he chuckled to himself, clearly pleased as he tested the sight.

There could only be one target, and Blitzo pulled his own gun, cocking it with a soft ‘click’.

Striker reacted on instinct at the sound, whirling around and chucking a knife at Blitzo that bounced off his glowing gut like a toothpick.

Blitzo couldn’t help a grin as the blade clattered to the ground, fingers tightening around the familiar weight in his hands. “Ha! Nice try, dipshit, but this baby’s sticking with Daddy.”

“Well well, surprised me there,” Striker admitted, raising an eyebrow and setting the rifle aside with a twitch to his lip. “I thought you’d be down with the crowd, watching your fancy blueblood show off his fancy-ass sparkles.”

“Er-”

“It’s just sad, really,” he added, rummaging around in his belt. “You’ve got potential, and you’re content just being that bastard’s little bitch-pet, rolling over for scraps.”

“I’m nobody’s fucking pet,” Blitzo growled. “I agreed to this, and he’s been getting better-”

“But for how long?” Striker drew a knife engraved with glowing runes from its holster, tail snapping with a rattle and nose wrinkling. “I saw you, after our little wrestling match. I can solve all of this for you- you’re the size of a prize hog, it must be raring to come out.”

“And she’s gonna be coming out Daddy’s big boy hole the normal way. She’s mine," Blitzo hissed, raising the barrel.

Striker’s mouth tightened, eyes narrowing. “Pathetic.” He lunged with lightning speed, slamming Blitzo by the neck into the floor hard enough to crack the wood under his spikes. It nearly drew a howl out, the back of the blade pressed against his skin and stinging with purity. Before he could blink, Striker grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head, claws digging into the wrists hard enough to ooze black.

“Fuck!” Blitzo tried to kick up, but between the baby belly and the knees on his thighs, he couldn’t get any leverage as Striker’s fingers left his neck, raising the glowing knife above his stomach. He desperately squirmed for freedom before Striker’s blade dropped like a corpse on his skin and drove lightning veins of pain through it.

Wait.

He’d touched it. Craning his neck, Blitzo could see that the protective spell was weeping, bleeding its glow away from where Striker had punctured through it- the power of the holy steel like acid. It had slowed the blade from piercing all the way through his guts at the first swing, but now…

“How in the fuck-”

“I was supposed to get rid of the baby and the daddy, y'know.” Striker said, idly tracing more white-hot agony over Blitzo that tightened every muscle in his body. “No loose ends. This was in case I didn’t want to just shoot you in the head and rip it out through your ribcage. Ain’t that nice?

“Get off of me,” Blitzo wheezed out, lungs curdling as Striker drew something circular over the white markings, scars on scars as liquid lava moved through his nerves and bled down into flesh hotter than any hellfire.

“That’d be counterproductive, boss, now wouldn’t it?” He pressed the knife down further, thick blood practically boiling into steam as it bubbled up. Blitzo went cross-eyed, claws digging into the wood. He could only focus on the hypnotic swirl of Striker’s eyes as the knife drew a horizontal line across the skin, just barely breaking it as it drew out twitches and squirms. He could feel the frantic fuzz that indicated his muscles weren't completely his own anymore- nerves yanked from the inside but unable to wrench free even as they tried to fight in unison. A bug pinned on the sidewalk.

(As he squirmed against the wood, though, he realized Striker forgot one thing as the overconfident rattle sounded off again like the toy it unintentionally echoed.)

“My employer didn’t rightly say what she wanted done with the little bastard, but a half-imp, half-Goetia? I’m doing you both a favor.”

The pain coalesced as Blitzo’s tail wound around Striker’s waist, throwing him against the bed with a crack as he shoved himself up on shaky hands. Blood dripped from his middle as the protective spell flickered in and out, and each beat of his heart drew flutters of agony from the scratches of the blessed blade while the remnants of the barrier dissolved like cotton candy in water.

Striker snarled just as something broke inside of Blitzo, fluid soaking his pants as his eyes widened.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Blitzo snagged the rifle with his tail and swiped it to the side in a snap, knocking Striker off the feet he’d just managed to get back on. He didn’t take time to see Striker’s expression as he bolted for the door, hearing a sharp “Hey!” that gave him half a second’s head-start, even as his legs were starting to buckle.

The house was decently big, but not that big, not nearly enough to hide properly when he was dripping whatever-the-fuck baby fluid that was oozing down the inside of his pants with a snake on his heels. Already, he could feel the baby twisting somersaults from the heavenly infection. He whipped his head around, sliding down the banister and throwing himself into the nearest closet when he heard the floor creak again. Fuck, he couldn’t be an open target and get taken down so Striker could get the rifle back so easily. His legs were about to collapse, he couldn’t risk M+M and Loona, couldn’t risk Stolas, his meat-brain was starting to bubble in his head and he couldn’t think-

The hum of angelic steel from the rifle made his skull ache as he fumbled for his phone, desperately swiping for the IMP group chat.

IM IN MILS HOS BBYU CMIONG STRKIR BDA

BAD

TYRIG TY KLIL ME

A bubble popped up from Moxxie for a moment before disappearing as Blitzo heard a groan from the stairs, along with a whistle and the unmistakable sound of a knife dragging down wood.

Bastard was fucking toying with him.

(And Millie’s parents were probably going to be so pissed about the banister, if they weren’t for all the baby-water that made it out of his pants.)

“Here Blitzy, Blitzy, Blitzy.” There was a lilting in his voice, but Blitzo could hear the simmering fury below it- whether it was for getting knocked up with a bird’s baby or stealing his gun or knocking Mr. High And Mighty on his ass while he was in fucking labor, he couldn’t hazard a guess, at least not through the ringing in his head and the way his entire body felt swollen to burst. (Probably all three though.) Sweat dripped from his cheek down to his chest, and he realized at some point in the scuffle the top buttons had popped off. Bare skin, hot to the touch. “I’ll make it quick, the lady wanted a show of seeing birdie’s brains splattered all over the stage while the sky was open.”

Lady.

Lady who wanted Stolas dead.

Oh, that bitch.

Blitz gripped the rifle tighter as his free hand tried to feel around for anything that could be considered a close-combat weapon. Wouldn’t a bunch of Wrath imps have some sort of bludgeoning instrument in closets like this? At least some extra knives, anything-

There was a rattle mixed with a hiss and the crack of a whip as Striker clicked his tongue, each step growing closer to the closet.

Closer.

Closer.

His heartbeat rushed like Envian waves, thick and heavy, and he had to bite back a groan as a contraction hit. The glowing white traced over his middle flared, and his lip drooled blood as teeth pierced the soft flesh.

The footsteps paused.

“Gotchya.”

Blitzo braced himself, fingers tightening around the rifle as the closet door creaked open for an agonizing half-second before being flung the rest of the way, the light briefly blinding even after a mere minute in the dark.

Striker’s smirk spread like blood on tile, and Blitzo glared and prepared to grapple as he was grabbed by the shirt, the cowboy hauling him out and about to gut him like a fish-

-Before he got squirted with a face of warm milk when his knuckles hit just the right spot, creamy white splattering over his cheeks and eyes.

Striker stared in shock for a moment as it dripped down, tracing the contours of his face and over his nose before splattering on his shirt. He snarled, tossing Blitzo aside and scrubbing furiously at his face as the pregnant imp slammed into the floor hard enough that the walls shook. “You disgusting-”

The absurdity of it was too much- Blitzo snorted out a laugh as he struggled to push himself to his feet, using the rifle as support. “Oh, you don’t like Daddy’s milkies, big boy?”

“That’s it!” Striker spat out whatever droplets landed in his mouth, eyes narrowing as he whipped the knife out with pure hellfire in his eyes. “You think this is funny? Then you’re going in the same fucking shallow grave as the blueblo-”

His sentence was cut viciously short when he crumpled like a split boulder after Millie slammed into his head with the flat of an axe.

Blitz stared as she panted between her teeth, and black started seeping from Striker’s skull while Loona and Moxxie peered from behind her.

The room spun, but reality didn't shift, and he could hear four sets of frantic breath.

“...Mills, I could kiss you. With tongue.”

“You’ll have to fight Moxxie first.” She offered a hand to him to help him stand properly, but his legs still didn’t seem to be cooperating so he was forced to lean against Loona, who had moved forward.

“Please don’t, sir,” Moxxie said rather lamely with absolutely no bite to it, a quiver underlying the words. Blitzo would have honed in with some sort of come-on, except he’d been through too much in the past fifteen minutes to feel like bothering as the stench of blood started to mix with sweat and whatever fluids were currently dripping from between his legs. “I’ll- go get his highness,” Moxxie added, voice a little shaky. “We can get you to the hospital, and-”

“Less yapping, more prince-grabbing,” Blitzo ground out through gritted teeth as he nearly collapsed again, and Moxxie scrambled for the door as Loona scooped him up in her arms.

“Good call, sweetie!” Millie called as she flipped Striker over and rummaged around inside the couch cushions for a rope to tie him up with. (He didn't seem to be breathing from what Blitzo could see, but they weren't about to take any chances.)

Blitzo could feel Loona’s arms trembling beneath him, and he would protest that she didn’t need to carry him, that he had handled himself exceptionally well, except for the fact that another contraction rode through his body and lit up every nerve inside of it, and he curled in on himself as the angelic scratches pulsed again.

Fuck.