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ashthewaterghoul · 2 months ago

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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?

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

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 4 months ago

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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.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #mermay 40k #Living Waters AU #oc: Thressl #oc: Cedric #oc: Oleandros

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raayllum · 1 year ago

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Anyway I wanna talk about hands in Finnegrin’s Wake

This is not my last or even my deepest meta dive on the episode by any means but I’m a bitch who appreciates consistent symbolism and the Hand Motif is on fire this episode so like, let’s talk about it.

The first thing to establish is the (understandable) importance of hands in Callum’s mage arc, given that you draw runes with your hands and hold magical objects, etc. This is in line with primal magic yes

but also with dark magic, highlighted explicitly in S4.

By being tied to primal / Sky magic, Callum’s hands (and ability to use them to help his friends, do magic, etc) is tied to freedom. This is also linked to chains/bondage with Rayla’s wrist binding and dark magic, metaphorically, for Callum. So it makes sense that 5x08, an episode that is very much about primal and dark magic and subsequent themes of freedom vs control is likewise obsessed with this hand motif.

However, I want to talk about Rayla, and Callum, and how the hand motif, dark magic use, and Callum’s connection to the Ocean arcanum are set up this season. Briefly on the last one (that can be a meta on its own I want to dive into, pun intended, in tandem with adding S4′s development to it) because post for another day, but I think it’s worthwhile to mention.

For starters, there’s Finnegrin having a direct callback to Callum’s line from 5x04 with Rayla (which is also being paralleled to Viren and Claudia’s “I’ll do anything” in 5x03 an episode prior). And with Callum’s hand clasped over his wrist, foreshadowing the ‘anything’ he’ll do will be to literally undo his chains (and to metaphorically take some on) in order to save Rayla by the end of the episode.

But we see Callum repeat this “wrist rubbing” motion a few times this episode (pin in it for later) in addition to the repeated emphasis in S5 with Callum always being the one to reach for / take Rayla’s hand. Although she and Callum are undoubtedly in a much better place than they were in S4 in repairing their relationship, Rayla still initiates almost zero contact with him across the course of S4 and S5 (grabbing his elbow and wiping his drool away when he’s asleep in 4x03; placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder in 4x09; resting her head on his shoulder in 5x02; touching his face in 5x08 to provide comfort).

This is a far cry from how touchy-feely she is with him in Arc 1, initiating much more contact than he does, but in S4 and S5 we see this switch around; almost anytime they’re being physically affectionate, Callum is the one initiating.

However, one thing hasn’t changed, and it’s that Callum is almost always the one, across seasons, to initiate handholds (3x01 and the back half of S3 once they’re a couple being the exceptions). And S4 (4x09) and S5 are no exception.

Okay, great, he holds her hand. So what? Well...

In 5x08, Callum does dark magic again outright and connects to the Ocean arcanum primarily out of love for her. As confirmed by the writers on twitter, Callum had to accept exactly what he says in 5x08 about the ocean - that it’s about unfathomable depths, embracing the unknown (even or especially when it scares you) and accepting that there are things you can’t control. And the lack of answers about Rayla’s whereabouts, “I don’t know how to feel about Rayla either,” and “I have to go after him” “I know” helped pave the way for Callum to reach those conclusions in 5x01 and 5x08 alike: “To love is to simply know this: the tides are true as the ocean is deep.” And that realization included accepting that he’d done dark magic (and would do dark magic) to protect her.

So it’s not surprising, therefore, that while connecting to the Ocean arcanum, Callum looks at his hand, and rubs the same wrist as before, almost like he’s mimicking the crushing motion he would’ve done with the slug.

Or indeed that it’s a gesture Viren does in his dark magic induced dreams, and during Callum’s arcanum speech, either, if inversed.

Callum is accepting that the depths he can’t see, his “I would do anything for you” promises and inclinations, are a (dark) path he can’t entirely see and understand, but something he knows lives inside him, and has for a long time: “But not everything’s changed.”

Darkness equals dark magic equals chains, and Callum has enough self awareness (that Viren did not) to know more so of what he’s walking into, and that’s precisely why it scares him. Why, by the end of 5x08, even as it’s revealed how he got his chains off, it’s clear they’re not gone. Not really. Not to him. Especially considering now he knows exactly where dark magic leads in ways he didn’t before in 2x07: Aaravos. (“As long as we protect each other, as long as we love each other, you can never control us” and now Callum knows that isn’t necessarily true, because he gave up the info to Finnegrin, and he willingly took another step down a dangerous path.)

Which is why I love that Rayla is the one to reach for him, to gently touch his shoulder and then his face and pull him into a hug. And I love the way Callum hesitates to place his hands - powerful, ‘tainted,’ chained - around her like another link in said chain, so different and yet so similar from their hug in 2x04 about a lack of magic, and now having arguably too much. And all of it - the dark magic use, the metaphorical and literal chains, the devotional key of the Ocean arcanum, the hands - synonymous with his love for Rayla.

#tdp callum #tdp #rayllum #tdp meta #the dragon prince #hand motif #callum #multi #s5 #5x08 #could do a whole thing on elmer and how he thematically connects to the possession plot line but again #meta for another day <3 #analysis series #tdp spoilers #s5 spoilers #analysis #yes i Did hurt my own feelings writing this one thank you for asking #the fact i stayed so on topic for this one is Truly Incredible i think #i would do anything for you

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unicyclehippo · 1 year ago

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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

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snippychicke · 2 years ago

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I have a question!

You can answer this if you want if you don't than that fines but! I really really wanna know

.....how would balam be like when he's jealous?

Maybe specifically if he was jealous cause of reader smelt different than usual(before they were courting)

And other demons assume that they were courting another demon?!

When in reality reader has picked up making perfumes from plants after reading about it. (Surprisingly smelling like a powerful demon and having a resting bitch face when annoyed can make netherworld plants very obedient)

Please i would very much like your thoughts on this idea if you can't again thats fine. I am a really big fan of for the sake of a smile you are doing an amazing job on it. Please drink water, sleep well and always have a balanced meal.

Thank you and good night/day

Heya Anon! Thank you so much for your prompt! And for your flattery! As you know it will get you anywhere.

Or at least a little side drabble. I'm not a hundred percent sure it was what you were aiming for, but it's what came out of my head. So enjoy!

Opera's words had rang in your ear from Walter park, and despite Balam's assurance that you didn't smell bad, the thought of having a scent so powerful it could be detected across the sprawling amusement park did not sit well with you.

So, during the next semester while everyone else was focused on the Harvest festival and then the Music Festival, and your mana was worn from trying out Runes, you researched something different.

Perfume.

Unlike Runes, there was a plethora of texts on perfumes and scent-based magic. A lot had to deal with seduction, but it was more the deception aspect that had your interest.

After all, you wanted to deceive the whole Netherworld into believing you were a demon, and not a delicious human.

The endeavor had you visiting Raim between her classes.

"You want to smell different?" The demon asked, looking rather perplexed before smiling. "Oh, I see. Trying to catch a certain Gargoyle's attention, are we?"

"No," You grounded out. "I… I don't know how to explain it other than I don't want to be so noticeable."

Her fingertips caressed your cheek before settling beneath your chin, encouraging you to look at her eyes. "Darling, who ever told you being noticed was a bad thing? It is a natural power that we hold over those who feel even the slightest hint of attraction. What you want is that they are so awed by your beauty they fail to see the knife you wield."

Which might work for seductive demons, but was definitely not what you were looking for. But she did point you in the right direction.

And also towards Suzy.

"Interesting combination," The small demon hummed as you followed her into the greenhouse. "And you said you wanted to make a perfume?"

"Yeah. It's, uh, a long story."

Suzy chuckled. "Believe me dear, I've heard it all. But to be the most potent for your scent, you'll want to harvest these yourself. If I harvest them for you, my mana would taint whatever magical properties you intend for it to have."

Every time you thought you understood the Netherworld, it revealed yet another layer. Perfume here wasn't just something that smelled pretty. It could be laced with magical properties, pheromones, and whatever else. A person's scent was as identifying as their appearance and sometimes more.

It was a gamble, you realized - but one you were willing to take. Especially after facing down a flower that was a monstrous version of a dandelion and a man eating venus flytrap with nothing but a harsh glare and a set of pruning shears.

--+--

You were fairly certain you messed up. You had decided to create your perfume in the Library's office, which felt more like brewing a potion. To you it smelt light, pleasant, and far different then Sullivan's cologne.

But the looks you were getting made you wonder if you were missing something. Some looked rather surprised, others were giving you knowing grins and thumbs up.

But it was Balam's reaction that made you doubt the most. As soon as he saw you in the hall, his dark eyes widened, his muscles tensing so much you could easily notice. He crossed the distance between you in a near instant, and you braced yourself, expecting him to pick you up into a hug as usual.

Except he paused just a few feet from you, looking very uncomfortable and confused.

"Uh, is everything… okay?" You asked softly as he continued to stand there, studying you as if you had grown a second head or something.

"Fine," He answered, sounding as if things were not fine. "Are you… is everything okay with you? Anything… new?"

"N-not really?" You answered, anxiety bubbling in your gut. Why was he acting so odd? Surely it wasn't just because you switched scents.

His eyes narrowed, and before you could probe to find out what was bothering him, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to a nearby empty classroom, making sure you were alone. "Balam…"

"Do you know how dangerous this could be?" He interrupted as he knelt before you. "I mean, what-what if they discover you're human? What if they hurt you? Or Iruma? I mean, caring for children from other relationships isn't typical for demons. How did this even happen? Did-did they force you? I promise, I can protect you. Both you and Iruma. Or… Or if you don't want me, Lord Sullivan…"

You cupped his cheeks, unable to press your finger to his lips to silence him considering his mask. Still, the gesture achieved silence as he froze, his cheeks slowly turning pink.

"Balam. I have no idea what you are talking about," You said slowly and clearly, hoping it would help him calm down from the panic he had worked himself into.

"Your scent," He explained after a moment, his cheeks turning an even darker shade "It-it smells like you mated with another demon."

It was your turn to blush, "W-what?! That-that is not at all what I wanted!" Oh god. All those looks in the hall. It was a walk of shame and you could never show your face again.

You groaned as you covered your face. "No no no! I double checked the ingredients! To ward off interest, to hide another scent, it was supposed to be a replacement for Sullivan's cologne!"

"It's… it's fake?" There was a hint of relief in his voice. He pulled you into his arms, and you found yourself nestled in his lap as he sat on the floor. His mask was pressed to join between your neck and shoulder, the cold metal contrasting with the hot breath escaping through the vents. The knot in your stomach shifted into something else as his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you still. You unconsciously held your breath, well aware of how red your face had to be from how hot you felt.

Your hands rested on his chest to support your balance, though it felt risqué in your position. Though, it meant you could feel him relax after a moment. But if you thought he would pull away, you were sorely mistaken. If anything, he pulled you closer until your chest was flush with his arms wrapping around you as he pressed his face against the crook of your neck.

"Balam?" You whispered and received no response after a moment of silence. "...Shichiro?"

It was the first time you said his given name, which felt taboo. Yes, you were friends, but not that close… right?

He continued to be silent, but squeezed you a little tighter. As if… as if he was afraid you'd run away, or disappear. You sighed softly at the realization, and started to run your fingers down the back of his neck and shoulders in a hopefully soothing manner. You were still confused as to why he was acting like this, but no matter what the cause was, you felt compelled to comfort him.

"It's okay," You soothed, allowing yourself to rest against him. "I'm sorry, it's just Opera's words from Walter park just… kinda stuck in my head. Humans have a thing against being… stinky. I just wanted to smell… nicer. I mean, I did my research and everything, so I don't understand…"

"You said humans can't smell pheromones, right?" He mumbled against you, his breath causing shivers to run down your spine and heat to bloom in your loins. All you could do was nod, untrusting of your voice at the moment. "Whatever you used mimicked the pheromones of a demon who had a… a mate."

"I get that," You confirmed, embarrassment threatening to overwhelm you. "I just…" Why was he so bothered?

"I was worried someone took advantage of you," He answered after a moment. "That, for whatever reason, you… you…"

Oh.

You laughed through your nerves. "Oh Devi, no! I know having an…intimate relationship with anyone is off the table. I resigned myself to that fact a while ago." Not that thoughts still didn't haunt you, dreams full of desire and passion.

Starring a certain demon in particular

There was another long moment of silence, his hands slowly rubbing your back and sides in the way he was prone to do. Despite knowing he didn't mean anything by it, the action didn't help the situation any as you resisted the urge to arch into him. Your gutter mind was happy to imagine those large hands grazing bare skin. His warm breath was replaced by soft lips and grazing fangs, making you clench your jaw.

Damn overactive imagination.

"If… if you need anything, please," He finally spoke. "I'd be happy to assist you."

You tried to beat your gutter mind back, insisting that he didn't mean it like that. He meant making a new perfume, likely. Or just a blanket statement. It was not at all related to your previous discussion.

"You're the sweetest," You whispered before pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I couldn't ask for a better friend."

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #balam shichiro #balam/reader #lord sullivan #suzuki iruma #For Sake of a Smile Fic

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madwomansapologist · 2 years ago

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You gave me your heart (I gave you mine) | Wanda Maximoff

synopsis: A prey. That's what you were, all this time. Just a sacrifice to a goddess you never even heard the name before. But who killed you should have realized that blood, that a heart, means more to a goddess than words of faith. [3K]

warnings: female!reader. Agatha Harkness/Reader stablished. dark. non-consensual intoxication. degradation. physical abuse. murder. a organ will be out of its body. smut. kinda of cnc.

It was easy to love Agatha. Almost effortless. Any mistakes you made were forgiven. It doesn't matter if you had said or done something wrong. All you had to do for her to love you was to stay beside her.

And it was so easy to be loved by her. She always did the right thing, said the right thing, thought the right thing. It was comfortable. So comfortable that a some point you just let you defenses down.

Of course it was to easy to be true.

Sitting on her bed, you tried to open the clasp on your heels. The tiredness added to the few drinks you took were enough to make it a hard task. "You said that you bought me a gift."

"Oh, darling. I didn't said that I bought you a gift." Agatha made you lay in bed. It was more rougher than it needed to be. All you wanted was to burn those high heels and sleep, but she didn't need to pushed you into bed. "But I will give you one."

Alcohol has prevented you from thinking clearly. It was just a few beers, you'd never get drunk on that alone. There was only one logical explanation for your state: there was something beyond. Maybe it was when you needed to use the restroom, or when you got distracted talking to someone else, maybe it was the bartender: there was something else on your beers. Something that prevented you from thinking clearly, acting clearly, speaking clearly.

"I just said that", you murmured. She laughed. And even your drunk being noticed it was mean. "What will you give me?"

Agatha walked around the bed and grabbed your hands away. "I will give you purpose. I will give meaning to your life. I will give you a glorious ending." Something cold made contact with them, something that stopped you from moving your arms. When you looked up you saw a purple energy arresting you. "You are hopeful. Kind. Naive. Perfect for her."

You just thought you really needed to sleep. Purple energy? You couldn't even find the right combination of words to describe it. It just look straight out of a movie. Damn, something was really wrong with your eyes. You tried to get up, but you couldn't move. "Agatha? I'm not feeling good right now."

"Don't humiliate yourself, little thing. Don't ask or beg for mercy." Agatha smirked. "Die with some dignity, huh?"

The room was lit by violet lights. Twisting around, you saw on each of the walls strange drawings glowed. Reason began to come back into your being, and you understood what it was: runes.

"Agatha." You were uncertain if you imagination was that fertile. "Let me go." She took a bunch of keys from her pocket and opened a drawer in her bedside table. From there, Agatha hold a rectangular leather case. It was pretty, and had lilac runes running the length of it. When she opened the clasp all the runes were gone, and you could see the brightness of the dagger inside the case. "I've said let me go!"

Agatha put the case down before raising her arm and slapping you across the face.

"You ungrateful bitch." She grabbed your hair, pulling hard as she slapped you again. "You should be honored that your pathetic filthy existence will be of any use. I was going to make this painless for you. But now? Ah, now you will suffer."

She sat on your waist. With your arms tied as well as your legs, the only thing you could do in an attempt to defend yourself was to twist your body and scream. But none of that stopped Agatha from taking the dagger from the box. None of that stopped her from studying the dagger's edge as if it were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. And none of that stopped her from plunging the knife into your chest.

And you felt it all.

Every inch of your skin being torn apart. Your muscles ripping against the dagger. You heard she muttering words in an ancient language, but the pain was the only thing that mattered. It burned, it stung, it was as if hot coals had been thrown over your skin. And then came the emptiness. A real void. It was as if a hungry vortex had opened inside your body. Something was missing.

Agatha had your heart in her hands.

"This is my offering to you, Destroyer of Worlds." Agatha chanted. "A pure heart, still beating in my hands and forever beating in yours, in exchange for immortality. Death, I offer you a taste of life."

A scarlet portal appeared in the center of the room. It was as if a hole had been opened there, a error in the universe, and out of it came the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

Her auburn hair was formed into a sort of burgundy crown. Wide earrings swayed with each step, mingling with the wavy strands of hair that fell over her shoulders. A tight fabric with strong lines covered her body, it was the only piece of clothing she wore.

She didn't seem from this world. She seemed to come from somewhere better. From somewhere that deserves her presence.

"You have a gift for me." She was looking into your eyes. In a mess of tears and whimpers of pain, you felt a shiver run up your spine. Your breath was short, and it burned all over your body.

"A bargain," clarified Agatha. She kneeled in front of the goddess. "I gave you her heart, Scarlet."

Scarlet tilt her head to the side. Her gaze dropped from your face to your body ripped in half. All the blood seeping, the ripped muscles, the taut skin. She took it all in before speaking again.

"You took her heart out of her chest?"

"She will finally be important, my goddess." Agatha realy thought she was being smart. "Nothing she ever did during life was meaningful, but her death will be."

"Don't you dare be nothing but respectful and gentle to my sacrifice." Scarlet's voice interrupted her. Agatha apologized. It wasn't enough. "You think your words are more worthy of me than her blood?"

"That's why I offered her to you, my goddess." Agatha was quickly to "Her death was part of your sacrifice. I killed her to show you how much I adore you."

"But she isn't dead."

Agatha looked at you, surprise to see her goddess was right. "I don't... I must have done something wrong. The runes were..."

"There is nothing wrong with my runes." Scarlet hold her by the chin. Now Agatha was the one squirming. You would laugh if you weren't a open wound. "These are the runes to offer me a sacrifice." Scarlet lifted her off the ground. "How can this be a sacrifice for you? Did you lose something? Are you the one in pain? Did you suffered for me?"

"I-I loved her." Agatha yelled, gasping for air. "I do. I really do. And I knew that losing her was the worst thing I could ever..."

Scarlet dropped her on the floor. "I was invoked. I was gifted with blood. With life. But you aren't the one bleeding, are you?"

She took your heart from Agatha's hand. Slowly, the goddess walked towards you. Her warm fingers carressed your cheeks, cleaning the traces of tears. "I can feel your pain." It was so comfortable. You could sleep against her skin. "I remember feeling completely alone. Empty."

"You," surprised with your own voice, you stopped. "You felt that?"

"A long time ago," Scarlet's fingertips touched lightly your lips. She let her hand rest against your skin. "Does it hurt?" Unable to use your words, you nodded. She smiled. It was such a divine view. "You lost something today. Something no other human can replace. And you did it for me, my generous girl. You gave me the best of gifts."

Scarlet opened the maroon fabric covering her body. She let the clothing fall, revealing her body to you. She lead her fingertips to her own chest, you saw them dissapearing inside her body. When they come back, they were holding a beating black heart.

"You gave me your heart." She put your red organ into her chest. Bent over your body, she began to fit her own heart into you. It stopped hurting. Burning. Aching. You felt complete. At peace. "And I gave you mine."

"I made this!" Agatha screamed. You almot forgot she existed. "I did this for you! It should be mine!"

Stroking your hair, she turned to the woman lying on the floor. Scarlet lift you from the bed, holding your body as it didn't weight anything. Walking towards the portal, she smiled at Agatha. "This will hurt."

That was the last time you saw Agatha Harkness.

At some point you must have closed your eyes. When you opened them, you where in a completely different place. Facing a two floor house that was the definition of the american dream, Scarlet walked up the steps carrying you in her arms.

And everything was black and white.

You tried to move away, but she hold you still against her. Then you saw it. You both were wearing wedding dresses. Her was flat and smooth, and she also had a pearl necklace. And yours were exactly like you always dreamed. Every detail, every tissue, every jewel. Perfect, if it wasn't for the absense of color.

"Everything will be just fine", she assured you. The front doors opened without a touch. "No one will ever hurt you again."

"I want to go home." You felt weak again, a sharp pain pressing against your temples. Your body softened against hers. You noticed a weight in your hand. It was a wedding ring with the biggest diamond you've ever seen. Not that you've seen many.

"This is your home," Scarlet's voice was soft. "Our home."

"No, this isn't," she climbled the central upstairs. "Please, let me go. I'm... I'm scared. Just let me go, please."

"I know you are scared. I can feel it. And I understand why." Another door opened. You saw a big bedroom. Again, everything was black and white. "I will take care of you. I will fix what that monster broke. Clean up what she's soiled, sew up what she's torn, fondle what she's beaten. You will never suffer again. I would never allow."

You felt dizzy. When she laid you down on the bed, you couldn't react. It was like you was still drunk. Drunk on her. Scarlet thought this would calm you down for a little bit. "You wouldn't?"

"Never."

"Scarlet, why this is happening to me? Where are we?"

"We are at home." By her tone, you understood that you shouldn't question it again. "And it's Wanda. You can call me Wanda."

Wanda left the room, opening a door at the end of the hall. You tried to get up, but your body wouldn't obey you. "Rest," Wanda said. Wanda ordered. "I'll be right back to take care of you."

Within seconds you heard the sound of running water. Suddenly a black stain appeared on your wedding dress. It wasn't there before, and it smelled like blood.

"Let's clean you up!" The Wanda that entered the room wasn't the one that left it. Her hair was short and artificially curly. Her dress was rounded, something you would see on a 50's movie. Her necklace has daisy pendants. Nothing could be prettier, nothing could be scarier.

Wanda decided to let you be sober. Everything will be way more romantic if you are able to stand up by yourself. Not that she mind carrying you. But she senses you will prefer to have more autonomy.

"I can do this alone" you finally was able to sit.

"You can," Wanda stepped closer. She touched your perfectly brushed hair, and you flinched. Her smile died for a moment, but came back full force. "But you don't have to. I'll take care of you, pookie. I promised."

Before you could counter her, she carried you in her arms again. Wanda took you to the bathroom, a bath with warm water was ready, and left you standing in front of the mirror. You got closer to it, your body bending over the sink, because you... You were perfect. Your hair, your makeup, your nails. The prettiest you ever been. Perfect, if not for the blood stain growing on the torso of your dress.

Wanda got to work on the knots that held your dress together. You tried to pull away, but she was right behind you. Her fingers loosened the knots, little by little the dress became looser. In the mirror, you saw her with a sincere smile. Not wide, but there. She seemed to like it. Like to be close to you, touching you so casually. If it weren't for your shaking body and the huge bloodstain, anyone would think that you two had just come back from a ceremony. "Don't worry about the dress. I can get you another one just like that. I can get you anything really, pookie. Any clothes, jewelry, car, house, book. Anything. If you want another moon in the sky, just let me know. I'll do anything for you."

You held the front of the dress, fearing it would fall off and expose you. You decided to change your approach. "Why? You don't have to do this. You don't have to waste your time with me."

"You're so kind. To think that taking care of you would be a waste of my time... You're all I ever dreamed of. And now you're mine."

Wanda stopped for a moment. Then she rested her chin on your shoulder, bending down so your heads were touching. You exchanged glances in the mirror. And so, snugged against you, Wanda closed her eyes. "Do you know what happened?" You denied.

"Those runes never been used before. The runes of immortality." She gave you time to understand her words. "Agatha stole the power of too many witches to be able to use them. But power isn't enough to deserve that gift. Only someone brave enough to cut their own chest open and give me their heart... Oh, that would be."

"But I didn't sacrifice myself." You whispered. "I was killed. I think so."

"I know that, pookie. I swear, I made that witch suffered." Wanda carressed your shoulders. You didn't react, and that made her happy. "You didn't ask for that, but you suffered. And you did it for me. You died for me. I won't let you go. I love you."

You only notice that she was done with the nods when your dress fell to the floor. You tried to cover yourself, but she held your hands. You could felt she glaring at you through the mirror.

"Please, I don't..."

"Don't be shy," Wanda whispered. She let go of your hands, sliding her fingertips down your arms. "You have all of me, I have all of you."

Her clothes disappear as she walks to the bath. Wanda touched the water with her fingertips. "Perfect." She put her feet in the water, leaning on the tile, and sat down in the tub. She smiled at you. "Waiting for an invitation?"

You didn't have a choice. Slowly, you convinced your body to obey your mind. You sit on the tub, but on the oposite side and with your back turned to her so she couldn't see you. You didn't want to be seen. Or to touched. You just wanted to wake up and find out it was just a really weird nightmare.

"Come here." You didn't answer her, so she pulled you on her lap. Wanda was strong. Stronger than you. "You're such a tease!"

"Stop that! I don't want you to touch me!"

"Oh, pookie. Agatha must have been such a egoistic lover." Her fingers touched your tights, suggesting something more. "I will make you feel so good."

Wanda brushed your hair off your shoulders, letting your delicate skin show. She slid her nose along your skin, up to your neck. Wanda licked your skin, bit lightly, kissed. She treated you like you were made of paper, like any rough touch could break you in half.

Her hands went up to your breasts. You tried to stop her, but soon she was holding and caressing them. She teased your nipples, her middle finger twitching them. "You're mine," Wanda was saying. "Only mine. All mine."

"Please... I don't..."

"You smell so good. Your skin is so soft. Your body... Ah, pookie, it feels like you were made for me. Maybe Life decided to give me a gift." Slowly, her hands moved back down to your thighs. "I want to fuck you in my temple. Make everyone watch how gods fuck. I want to show how perfect you are, how mine you are. You're mine. All mine."

"Wanda," you cried. "Please, I don't... Ah... Uh-um, Wanda, I can't..."

"You're my princess. My girl. My bride. My everything. Mine, mine, mine."

She opened your legs. Without you being able to help it, she slid her fingers across your lips. She touched your pussy, rubbing it carefully, while her other hand pinched your nipple. Wanda touched your clit, a shock was sent through your body. You squirmed in her lap.

"Let me feel you," Wanda whispered against your ear. But she wasn't demanding. She was begging. "I'll give you anything you want. I'll do anything you want. Be anything you want. You just have to need me."

"I," your voice cracked as a moan escaped your throat. Wanda sped up the movement, her fingers so blunt against your sex. Being with Agatha was easy. Loving her was easy, but only because she was using you. But Wanda... She will truly love you, and she's asking for something so simple. "I need you."

Without wasting a second, Wanda penetrated you. The two long fingers opened you slowly, until you got used to it. Moaning her name, you let her kiss you. Clunging into Wanda's arm, unable to do anything but kiss her back, she started to really fuck you.

"So wet, so tight." Wanda bit your ear. "Mine. All mine."

"Yours," you replied. "All yours."

Wanda didn't stop until she saw you shaking. Your walls squeezed her fingers, it was so warm inside you. She didn't stop fucking you, even when you stopped breathing from the pleasure. She continued until you came again on her fingers. "Wanda! Oh, fuck, Wanda. It's... sensitive."

Wanda stroked your face. "You are mine. Forever mine."

"Forever," you muttered. You weren't even able to imagine eternity next to her. "Forever?

"Forever."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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verai-marcel · 11 months ago

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

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

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

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x f!reader #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #writing #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home #astarion

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pessimisticoptimistsblog · 10 months ago

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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

Tag List

@leximus98

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #helluva boss

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maegorsbignaturals · 4 months ago

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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.

#Asks #Undead Maegor #maegor my babygirl #maegor targaryen

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crossroadsdimension · 2 years ago

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I had so much fun watching Vash figure himself out today.

Knives woke him up to his Plant powers, and the first thing he does when he's aware is punt Knives out of that higher reality, straight through "Rem's" face. (Yes, I'm calling the plant construct Rem; it's shaped like her, it makes the most sense.) Watching him get punted through the vines and out the building? Hilarious.

But seeing Vash effortlessly control his vines and pull them back in, using that super-intelligent brain of his to condense and turn the gate into something he could hold and carry out of the city to detonate elsewhere safely? Genius! There's the smart Vash from the manga that I remember! And watching him figure out how to fly with his space-flower wing? Beautiful! Sure, it isn't feathered like it is in the manga, but it's still his wing. His beautiful, gorgeous wing.

And his hair spiking up into the manga's and old anime's style because his Plant abilities were awoken?? GENIUS! I bet that whenever he goes full attack mode now his hair's gonna spike up like that (or maybe the next time he gets a haircut it's just gonna jump up, no hair gel needed).

Not to mention the Angel Arm. I wasn't expecting him to create that on purpose this time around, but considering that he's using it to expel the energy-gate his brother wants instead of Knives using Vash to wipe out a city (which was his base of operations this time), it makes complete sense.

And did you see the bullets? They're covered in Plant runes, like how Vash alters his bullets during his final fight with Knives in Maximum. I wouldn't be surprised if Vash is creating them himself, or at the very least altering the ones he has so that he can fight his brother on more equal footing.

And Vash is willing to take his brother on now, too! Look at that determination as he fights, unlike the fear and panic we saw in Episode 3!

He's more in-tune with what's going on, what Knives is trying to do, what he can do, and -- guess what?

Vash has chosen the side of humanity. He has figured out what side he stands on. Finally.

The query that was introduced to him in Episode 3 from Knives, and Episode 2 from Rosa, has been answered. Finally, Vash knows that he wants to help humanity stand on their own two feet, despite what they've done to the Dependents, despite what they've done to him.

He has too much compassion and love for the humans, instilled in him by Rem, to want to turn his back on us now. He knows our darkness, but he sees the light in us, too, and wants to believe that we can do better. And so he has settled here, against Knives despite his want to have Knives at his side with him, too.

Because Vash has so much love in his heart, and he wants to give it to everyone, while Knives has so much love in his heart for his brother alone. The kind of love that turns into an obsession.

And as much as Vash wants there to be a reconciliation between them...it doesn't look like that's gonna happen anytime soon.

And now he's Ericks, living a quiet life, potentially without his memories, and with the guilt of killing July...and Knives' declaration that Vash killed Nai, right before the beam of energy took him.

I betcha that Knives meant he stopped being Nai the instant Vash pointed a gun at him, and "killed" the idea of being that innocent little kid that Rem tried to raise. But we're not gonna get that answer anytime soon.

Although we will get an answer, I suspect. Because if I know my manga...Knives isn't dead. Nearly dead, certainly, but not dead enough to be dead.

Who's ready for Legato to be a little bitch next season?

#cross' rambling #trigun #trigun stampede #stampede spoilers #trigun maximum spoilers #vash the stampede #millions knives #character analysis #story analysis

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illarian-rambling · 10 months ago

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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

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #author

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hazbincalifornia · 8 months ago

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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.

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.

#one time #daddy blitzo #helluva mpreg #shadow writes stuff

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