#if there's one thing i wish i was smarter for it would be learning to code infinite scroll but apparently tumblr only supports http now and

[minody]

new blog theme by kosmique !

it's soooooo cute i'm not done building out fun pages for the desktop theme tho but it's getting there 🤭😇

[reareaotaku]

College Ford Pines being absolutely smitten for a reader who's majoring in art and loves LOVES to paint fantasy themes pieces in the library by a window with sunlight pooling in as their brush goes across their canvas. And they'll be painting something that almost always involves dragons (dragons are AWESOME)

Interesting-

🎨 BMU was not your school of choice. It was no one's first choice- It was just something people picked when everything else fell short. Though- maybe it was faith that you went at the same time as Ford Pines.

🎨 You had never met the man, but heard some rumors about him being incredibly intelligent, which made you wonder why he was going to BMU. No body with true talent goes to BMU; it was just a fact.

🐉 Ford had watched you for quite some time. He had first seen you when he was at the library getting a book for one of his classes. He was a little weirded out that you were just painting in the library. But... You looked rather peaceful and he kind of found that nice. He wished he could have been at peace like you.

🐉 He was interested in what you were painting, but Ford was never good at talking with people. His social skills were ass.

🎨🐉 You were in the library everyday after class. It was your routine, something to keep you sane in this hell hole. Ford liked that he could always count on you being there, in the same spot, doing the same thing. He liked the normality of it. Without seeing you, it would be like his day isn't complete.

🐉 So, when one day you weren't there, he freaked out a little. Where were you? He didn't know anything about you, so he didn't know where you stayed, who your friends/roommate were/was. He just had to wait until you showed up again. Thankfully it only took a few days before you were back. He decided to finally approach you.

🐉 "Hi."

🎨 You looked up to the voice, surprised to see a man standing in front of you.

🐉 He gestures to the seat across from you, the one he was standing behind. "Is this seat taken?"

🎨🐉 You nod and he takes the seat. Ford is excited to finally see what you were painting. It was an incredibly detailed piece with dragons. Why would someone with your talent being going to a school like BMU?

🐉 "That's a nice painting."

🎨 You blush, before thanking him. "I'm Y/n."

🐉 "Ford Pines," He puts out his hand and you looked at yours that had paint covering it and he shys away from the handshake when realizing. "I noticed you come here a lot."

🎨 "Yeah, it's really peaceful."

🐉🎨 You and Ford become close over the next few weeks. He takes interest in your art and you listen to him talk about his classes, theories and papers. You realize his intelligence is leagues above your own. You feel a little inferior when around him because of this, but you soon learn that he is smarter than everyone at the school and you really had nothing to be ashamed of.

🐉 After almost a year of knowing each other, Ford decided to finally make the move and asked you out, which you quickly accepted. You had come to truly like and care for Ford. Ford confided in you secrets he would never even tell his brother.

🐉🎨 When you both graduate, Ford asks you to move with him to Gravity Falls, because that's where his work is taking him and it depends on you if you go with him or not...

[sinisterexaggerator]

Final Straw

Nick Valentine x Fem Reader | Ao3

Summary: You're sick to death of listening to people insult and belittle Nick; you take matters into your own hands, much to the Synth's surprise, but your methods are a little bit unorthodox.

Warnings: None, except for blood, violence, and foul language. NICK GETS SUPER PISSED AT YOU, and you also share a kiss. 💋

IT'S FLUFF.

Notes: This is SELF-INDULGENT AF. I hate it when people insult Nick in the game. This is my way of getting them back! And I want to kiss him and tell him I love him so bad. ;-:

Word count: 2k

It was the final straw, the one that broke the brahmin’s back, Nick Valentine left to defend himself against hate and bigotry for the umpteenth time, and you would not be party to it.

For so long you had traveled by Nick’s side, learning of the many facets to his personality. If there was a single thing about him you did not like, it had to be the ease with which he practiced self-deprecation, not knowing how to remedy the awful perception he had about himself.

Oftentimes, he regurgitated what came out the mouths of others; it had been internalized, compartmentalized, processed, and stored in his long-term memory, the detective unable to let things go—just like so many cases that remained unsolved.

“Shit, a Synth— don’t come near me. What a freak, thinks he’s human…”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go near you if it meant tomorrow I’d wake up from this nightmare.”

Your soul ached, knowing that every insult, every snide remark caused some level of psychic damage to your partner, his expressions all too readable for those times he was robbed of his fragile dignity, though always walking away the bigger man.

A culmination of varying factors led you to this, Nick’s tragic past haunting not only himself, but you; what you wouldn’t give to make it better, only wishing you had the power to convince him he was worth more than half the Commonwealth combined.

If Valentine could equate himself to nothing more than garbage, you could be the one to remind him that someone else’s trash was frequently another’s treasure— in this case, he was yours.

Though not privy to your feelings, you adored Nick completely. So much so, you were not above engaging in a physical altercation on his behalf.

“Say that again,” you threatened scathingly, turning to face the asshole who had just dared to disrespect your companion, and for no good reason.

“I said he’s a freak, lady—and what’s a pretty thing like you doing traveling with him, anyway?” the ill-mannered caravan guard asked, acting as if Valentine was some disease he could catch, making a blatant show of his disgust. 

The hired gun pulled no reaction from the Synth, though Nick stared at you tight-lipped, unnatural, glowing eyes trained hard on your face. His silence spoke volumes, instructing you with a stern look beneath the shade of his hat to drop the matter and turn the other cheek—it was something you weren’t willing to do this time, meeting your newfound enemy head-on.

“Apologize!” you demanded, shoving your adversary backward with a forceful push, both your palms making contact with his ribs. Your cheeks burned, accompanying a rise in your temper, readying yourself for if this vermin should do anything but grovel at Nick’s feet.

“Forget it, this guy ain’t worth it,” Nick offered laconically, hoping to appeal to your common sense. “I’ve heard worse in my time; being called a freak is the least of my concerns.”

“But you’re worth it!” you protested, Valentine’s forehead arcing upward at the conviction in your voice. He had a momentary lapse, his concentration faltering as he tried to get a handle on the situation, Nick having visualized an entirely different outcome based on variables that were currently in flux—namely the sudden change in your mood.

It seemed the shithead had caught on, smarter than he looked, eyeing the two of you with suspicion and derision, as if the very idea you could have feelings toward this hunk of junk was baffling when able-bodied, strong men like him existed.   

“Oh, I get it. You’re real sick, lady, a real pervert—you fucking a machine? What’s the matter, human men aren’t good en—”

The jerk was cut off mid-sentence, your balled up fist coming into contact with his jaw; a resounding crack split sound waves as blood spurted from his lips. His colleagues had already wandered off down the road, not wanting to be a part of whatever trouble he had found himself in, having silently agreed to let this member of their team fend for himself.

“You fucking bitch!” the guard twice your size growled, swinging wildly only to miss. Your leg extended; you were pleased when he stumbled, only wishing he had fallen flat on his face.

“Now, wait a—”

He was quick to right himself, spinning on the ball of his heel—you were quicker, kneeing him in the nuts so hard he doubled over, but you weren’t finished yet.

Lifting your arm to gain momentum, you drove the point of your elbow into his spine, causing the offender to drop onto the dirt at your feet.

“I'd say he's down for the—”

Nick couldn’t get a word out; you didn’t appear to be listening, the android observing your uncharacteristic actions with rapt concern. You were pounding your knuckles into the bastard’s nose repeatedly, sticky crimson coating your fist and the man’s sorely wounded face.

As if coming to from a trance, Valentine whisked forward, snatching your wrist before you could cause the poor schmuck any more damage, thinking he may look worse off than even he, what with his bare wires and metal frame exposed to the elements.

“Hey! What’s gotten into you?!” Nick barked, his tone alone condemning your inappropriate conduct, the Synth yanking you up so fast you audibly gasped.

“There ain’t no excuse for this���this guy may be a jackass, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to die!” Nick protested, brows knit in anger the likes of which you had never seen.

You glanced down, only now seeming to notice the extent of his injuries; the man was out like a light. You only cared because he did.

“Nick, I—” you began, voice quavering, losing all resolve as you had been forced to witness Valentine’s sweet disposition vanish, quickly replaced by something undeniably frightening.

You never once imagined yourself to be the victim of his choler, finding you absolutely hated it, breaking down all at once to cry despite not meaning to. You felt simultaneously overwhelmed by guilt and embarrassed beyond measure, unable to look him in the eye.

“Don’t Nick me, this isn’t like you, this—” The man froze, his grip slackening as he loosely held on, thoroughly confused by how you could go from nearly murdering a man in cold blood with your bare hands, to shedding tears in the span of under a minute; he moved to grasp you by your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” he asked, perplexed, the question dry on his tongue. He searched your face for any hint of what the matter was, wondering if you’d lost a screw sometime after leaving Diamond City, as he thought he had a handle on how you operated.

You could not will yourself to respond, vision clouded, droplets pelting your cheeks as you gazed at the ground. You felt worse than a scolded child; you had never meant to upset him so, it being decidedly more terrible than any physical pain you had yet to endure.

“Look at me, damn you!” Valentine demanded, gently jostling you back to the present moment, though your tears only increased, Nick having never cursed at you before.

“Valentine,” you whispered, eyes shimmering, Nick’s fury subsiding to a dull roar as he waited for you to explain yourself. The crease of his brow evened out, the Synth notably more relaxed, though he did not trust you wouldn’t lash out again.

“Go on,” he urged sharply, wanting to get to the bottom of your behavior. It was unnerving, not knowing what else you were capable of at the drop of a dime.

It was an understatement to say that he was surprised when you lifted your arms, pulling the man forward to enfold in your tight embrace. You buried your cheek in the tattered, stained fabric of his coat, crying more softly now as it started to rain.

“Don’t listen to them,” you pleaded, “don’t ever listen to them. You’re perfect just the way you are,” you spoke with earnest, your lips pressing a tender kiss to the spot that lacked a heartbeat, though the gesture stood apart on its own.

“I can’t stand it—the way people treat you, the way they talk down to you—if only they knew—if only they could see what I see—” you sobbed, the sound of your cries muffled against his chest; it was firm, his shirt smelling like coolant and ozone—cigarettes mixed with something earthy—you breathed in deeply, overcome with silent relief when Nick placed his metallic hand on the crown of your head.

“I... I appreciate you, doll,” he started, his voice turning toward a soothing cadence, the way he pet your hair in long, slow strokes comforting you more than it should. “But you didn’t have to do that; would have preferred if you didn’t. Jerks like him get their comeuppance, but it shouldn’t be at the price of dirtying your hands.”

You had never been this intimate with him, nor had you ever planned to be—his words were unscripted, and his affection given of his own volition. You curled in tighter, nuzzling your way into the crook of his good arm, wanting to entomb yourself there for all eternity.

“I’m sorry,” you offered apologetically, feeling the pressure of Nick’s own arms around you, returning your hug, making you feel as if you could die happy at this moment, not minding in the least that there was an unconscious, bleeding man lying only a hairbreadth away. “It hurts me, like I know it hurts you.”

Nick was quiet, mulling over the fact it didn’t do you or him any good to disparage his own person when there were others to do it for him. He had never considered the effect it might have on those around him; it came naturally to want to harp on his own shortcomings—or had it come natural to the real Nick? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it.

“You’re right, it does. But I shouldn’t let it bother me, not when I have people like you by my side.”

“I love you, Valentine,” you countered, not recognizing the softness of your own voice. You felt a shift beneath you, your head being coaxed to rise by way of a slow tilt of your chin.

Nick stared down at you, gleaming, golden eyes emoting dolefully as he gazed into yours. He held a deep-seated sorrow, not only for you, but for himself, wishing that he was human, if only so he could touch you, hold you, kiss you the way he wanted to.

“That’s not the smartest thing you’ve ever said, but I take it you mean that,” Valentine replied, bending low to brush soft, silicone lips across yours of flesh and blood; they were cool and rough in texture, but not unpleasant. The fact he was kissing you at all was a dream come true.

“With all my heart,” you replied, cupping the Synth's battered cheek in the bowl of your palm, fingers trailing over artificial skin in a light caress.

“So, that’s what this was all about,” he remarked, conjuring up a smile. “You know, I’d give you mine,” he added solemnly, his glum tone indicative of something he was not telling you.

Instead of elaborating, Nick changed the subject, always one to brighten a dark mood. “Next time, just tell me what’s on your mind instead of beating the living daylights out of some poor schmo, all right?”

You managed a smile of your own, delighting in his sarcasm, glad for the fact your confession had taken a lighthearted turn. “I can’t make any promises,” you quipped.

The detective gave a small shake of his head, that lopsided, infectious grin of his spreading up one side of his face. “Taking a page out of my book, are you?”

“I learned from the best,” you breathed, kissing him once more. Though selfish of you, for all you cared, the world could undergo another nuclear war, and you wouldn’t bat a lash, not for as long as you had your funny Valentine.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello Nicholas!

I hope this isn't a weird question, but I saw in one of your posts that you used to be in a huge amount of debt and now you're living more comfortably- how did you manage to get out of debt? I feel like every time I start even trying to figure out where to start, it's just all too big to ever get out from under. Do you have any advice for me?

Hope you have a great day!

Hey there! Yes, from about 2007-2010 (before I transitioned), I was making less than $10k/year. I defaulted on all my credit cards, exhausted my retirement, and nearly lost my house. It sucked, and in 2024, I'm finally start to feel somewhat secure. What I learned (assuming living in the US, I also did not have student loan debt):

I had to first figure out the sources of my debt. A big chunk of it was because of bad spending habits due to mental illness (hoarding + retail therapy when I was dysphoric/depressed). Another chunk was from being in an abusive friendship. Another, from being unemployed. And the last, was general capitalism (this was during the housing crisis.)

I started working on improving myself to curb behaviors that led to debt. I started working on my hoarding. I started transition to improve my mental health (had to sell some stuff to afford HRT). It took until 2015 to ditch my abuser, alas.

I started working on new job skills. I swallowed my pride and got an office job after a failed 3-year stint at freelancing. It was shitty, but enough to take care of my income emergencies -- keeping my house out of foreclosure. I got a better job 8 months later. It also sucked and I was in it for 7 years, but eventually changed industries and that's when my career took off. Because with each new job, I've gotten better and better pay.

I started using budgeting software. YNAB is my favorite. I try to account for every single dollar I have.

I started spending smarter. Food was the expense I had the most control over. I went to the salvage grocery store (you can find non-expired stuff if you hunt) and bought the "ugly" produce 1 day away from rotting from the local markets. I actually managed to eat well once I found these grocery stores, and my food bill became a fraction of what it'd been at typical grocery stores. I do wish that I had given food pantries a shot, but I was in denial about my poverty at the time.

I sold a ton of useless crap. I got rid of a good chunk of my nerd "collectibles". I only miss a few things over a decade later.

I negotiated with my debt collectors. I managed to set up payment plans with my credit card companies, condo association, and the IRS. I also did a debt consolidation loan once I qualified and was sure I could commit to the monthly payments. It forced me to be super strict about my budget and for about 5 years I didn't buy much for myself. It sucked, but I cleared a bunch of debt that way.

I got help from my family. I was embarrassed to tell my family about my predicament, but it became impossible to hide. I got help cleaning out my hoard and my mother has gracefully given me generous cash gifts every now and then. Never enough to be life-changing, but enough to give me a mental breather.

I played the credit score game. This one seems counter-intuitive, and requires some self-control about not abusing credit cards. Many people recommend the "snowball" method for paying off cards (pay off your lowest debt asap, then go to the next one), but I went with a "credit utilization" method (bring my highest used cards down to the next utilization level, then move to other cards) so I would see immediate changes in my credit score. What is credit card utilization? It's the percentage of how much of your credit card you're using. A card with a $1,000 limit and $100 on it = 10% utilization. Your credit score changes when you cross the following thresholds: 90%, 70%, 50%, 30%, 10%. Once my credit score started going up past 400 (especially as defaults started falling away), I applied for a secured card. As I started using that better, I applied for a few more cards, then for credit line increases every 6 months. My car insurance rates were tied to my credit score, so as soon as that improved, I switched companies and saved money there.

Mistakes I made:

Being in denial that I was poor. I didn't really look for resources on how to live while in poverty. This hurt me a lot because I ended up neglecting myself out of pride, which made my situation even worse.

Payday loans. I got stuck in the payday cycle for about 8 years. I wish I had sold more stuff or asked family for money to have never needed that initial loan. Once you are in the cycle, it becomes very difficult to get out.

Not going to a food bank.

Not asking for help sooner. And not just financial help.

Not getting out of abusive situations sooner. This is hard, and I sympathize with anyone in a similar position. But if you think it's time to move on, trust your gut - don't sacrifice yourself for people who don't care about you.

Ignoring debt collectors, because I was too afraid to negotiate for a plan. The IRS was so patient with me in the end, even after defaulting twice on plans.

Not considering getting a roommate to reduce costs, or not thinking of doing more things like shared meals with my fellow poor friends. Again, denial and pride. Humility is not a bad word and I wished I had learned it sooner.

Not changing jobs sooner. Curbing my hoarding and getting a better job are responsible for about 90% of me being where I am financially today.

Getting out of debt is a marathon. It took over a decade for me, and I am *still* feeling the sting of poverty. I wish you the best of luck. Folks are welcome to tack on specific tricks and strategies -- this is just a general outline of my particular journey.

[misseviehyde]

THE RILEY EXPERIMENT

(Based on ip that Mana Omega kindly has allowed me to use.)

Riley Green wished his Dad had never remarried. It wasn't that he disliked his step-mom Rachel Grey, it was her bitchy daughter Riley that made his life feel like hell. Thanks to the marriage, they were now two teens exactly the same age, in the same class at school and now even living together in the same house.

But despite those superficial similarities, they couldn't be two more different people.

Firstly; it was incredibly annoying having the same name as your step-sister. Packages were constantly arriving at the house for the female Riley and if male Riley forgot to check the label properly, he'd often find himself holding a bra or a sexy tight fitting bodystocking from Shein or Pretty Little Thing.

Much to his embarrassment, Riley had found himself keeping one of the bras. It was a 34D leopard skin print bra. He would sometimes jerk off whilst wearing it; not really sure why he found the thought of having Riley's big tits on his chest such a fucking turn on; but doing it anyway. He was definitely NOT gay, but there was something going on there that made him hard. He knew it was wrong to steal underwear, but somehow it just felt so good. Riley never commented on the bra going missing, maybe she thought it had gotten lost in the post.

After all, she wasn't very careful with money. Riley seemed to have a unlimited spend amount on her credit-card and was constantly buying new clothes to keep up with the popular girl fashions. She was basically a spoiled brat. If Mommy wouldn't buy it for her, she'd usually find some guy to give her what she wanted.

Riley was into social media and seemed to spend more time building up followers on Insta or Tiktok then doing anything useful with her life. Riley didn't think his step-sister was shallow, he knew she was. She seemed to date a new guy every week and as far as Riley could tell she was definitely sexually active. Sometimes he'd hear... noises from her room. Noises that made him really horny.

One night he'd heard a sexy low buzzing from her room. He'd lain propped up against the wall, his stolen bra stuffed with socks as he listened to his step-sister groan and moan and he jerked his cock to the sounds of her pleasure. She was obviously using a vibrator or magic wand and he wondered if one of the packages that had passed through his hands had actually been a sex-toy. It made him wish he had accidentally opened THAT package.

"Ohhhh fuck yeahhhh I'm soooo fucking wet, mmmmmmhhhh..."

He had cum so hard that night.

The thought of what he might do with a dildo or butt-plug made him blush. No... he was definitely straight, these were just some weird ideas he was sometimes having. It was all the fault of having such a slutty step-sister.

Indeed, the main problem with living with her was that Riley was so fucking hot. She had a big round bubble-butt, large firm breasts and a gorgeous face. She looked good in everything and she had the spoiled, knowing, mean girl bimbo look that made boys weak. She always wore the sexiest outfits, had long sexy nails and was the purist vision of toxic femininity possible. She loved to tease Riley, manipulate and use him. She seemed to get off on the power she had over him.

In fact - in order to differentiate between them, Riley had popularised the use of his hated nickname Ry. Now nearly everyone called him Ry and it sucked.

The two of them couldn't be more unalike. Riley was popular, hot, pretty and sexually confident - Ry was dorky, nervous, unconfident and a virgin.

About the only advantage Ry had over Riley was that he was smart. A lot smarter. In fact he was a bit of a genius. Riley had used that to her advantage though, swiftly learning that now they shared a house it was pretty easy to copy Ry's homework and manipulate him into helping her grades improve.

"Ohhh you're such a good step-brother," she'd purr as she got another A- on a paper. "Hey, did I mention I have some new social media photos I'd like you to 'examine' for me. Let me air-drop them to your phone.'

Riley had learned that if she provided images of herself, her step-brother would do whatever she wanted. He was addicted to her beauty and femininity - whilst she found his intelligence useful.

Getting her brother to cheat for her had paid dividends. In fact Riley's grades had improved SO much as a result of her using her step-brother, her Mom had promised she could go to a music festival with her slutty friends, provided she passed the final test.

The final test.

There would be no way to cheat on that. Riley's frustrations were evident. Her Step-Bro couldn't exactly sit the test for her and she wasn't smart enough to pass without cheating.

"Listen babe, you need to find a way to help me pass that test. I need to go to that music festival with my girlies. Find a way to make me smarter or something. Just imagine how hot I'll look in all the pictures I can send you."

Ry scratched his head. What was he supposed to do? You couldn't exactly make another person... smarter in under a week, could you?

Hmmmm, that jogged a strange memory. About a year ago, Ry had been following an interesting online science blog from a girl in another town. Laura Sims was another science prodigy (who he'd actually had a bit of a crush on). One day she'd just stopped posting, but he remembered her putting up some interesting ideas for a hi tech Crispr solution. The idea was the solution would eradicate genetic weaknesses in whoever drank it by taking the strengths from someone else's DNA.

It took a bit of searching - strangely Laura Sims no longer seemed to have much of an online presence. He found some information for a Laura Richie - some bitch from the same town who appeared to be living a life of decadence - but eventually succeeded in using the internet archives to find the page instead.

Laura had luckily uploaded her formula, hoping to 'open source' test it. He wondered why she'd taken everything down?

It didn't take long to create the formula. The advice from Laura was to try it before bed to give it time to activate. The main changes would come the day after. Riley looked on doubtfully as Ry took one of his head hairs and put it into the liquid. He gave it to her to drink. "This will give you my intelligence and smarts."

"Okay - if you're sure. I'll try anything to get to that festival."

Riley drank. "Ughhh, it tastes sour. Okay, let's hope this works. I'll go and start revising - maybe I'll get some early gains."

She left the room. As she did so, Ry noticed one of her long sexy head hairs had come free and was just lying there on the table. A terrible temptation overcame him. What if? What if he used the solution too? It wouldn't make him smart, but maybe it would make him more attractive and confident.

Feeling a little guilty, he dissolved the hair and drank the solution. It tasted sweet and his skin tingled, but nothing else seemed to happen. Weird... Riley had said it was sour.

Inside their bodies, the Crispr solution went to work. Riley's female DNA rushed through Ry's body, overwriting his cells. There was no melding here - no balancing. Riley's bitchy DNA was taking control and spreading like a wild-fire through his body.

Meanwhile Riley was also having her female cells consumed slowly and methodically by Ry's. The virus was even spreading to her brain, dendrites and synapses rewiring and altering to make her think like he did.

Now it was just a matter of waiting. The changes would soon be on their way

***

DAY ONE:

Waking up groggily, Riley had to admit she didn't feel great. Her whole body felt sluggish and weak, like she had a really bad cold. Walking to the mirror she despaired to see that her usually flawless skin seemed a bit blotchy and riddled with acne, similar to her dorky step-bros. What the hell was his stupid formula doing to her?

Looking down she blushed. Her tits seemed obscenely large on her chest. She couldn't believe she usually allowed herself to walk around flaunting them like this. It didn't normally bother her, but now for some reason it did. She searched through her wardobe and finding a hoody, slid it on.

Her eyes seemed to be struggling. Maybe it was the light in here? Switching on the lights she tiredly walked to her makeup vanity and paused. Makeup? What was the point of makeup? She was only going to study for a test today.

Ignoring her usual cleansing routines and preparations, Riley took down the large Maths text-book she was supposed to be studying and opened it up. It was only twenty minutes later, that she realised she had become engrossed in the book without even realising it.

Her usually flippant mind that jumped from subject to subject seemed sharper and more focused. Sitting down at her desk, she began to study in earnest.

***

Ry opened his eyes and slid easily out of bed. He was usually a night person, so to find not only that he had slept well, but that he didn't feel tired of fatigued was a revelation to him.

He actually felt fucking great this morning. The Crispr solution seemed to be working. Walking to the mirror, Ry grinned in satisfaction. His usually bad skin was clearer and ever so slightly tanned. He had a healthy glow for the first time in years.

In fact his whole body seemed more toned with a healthier shape. He hadn't put any muscle on as far as he could see, but proportionally, everything seemed 'better'. The only downsides were a strange itching and puffiness on his chest and a few other weird changes.

His ass seemed fatter and slightly bigger. His hair seemed to have increased in length and volume. It gave him a rather... feminine... shape. He ignored the strange thrill of delight that brought him.

"It's early days for these changes yet. I just need to give it more time. I'll probably fill out and look more manly in the next stage. Probably to be expected I'd mirror a few of Riley's assets."

He wondered how Riley was getting on...

***

"Amazing," giggled Riley in satisfaction. Her mind was definitely getting faster. The hot sweats had started again earlier and she was having even more difficulty seeing, but it didn't matter to her anymore because the knowledge she was experiencing was so captivating.

She rubbed at her chest. Her boobs were really aching. For some reason her bra didn't seem to fit... it kept dropping down loose. She knew that cup sizes did change, she'd alternated between a 32 and 34 bust for years - but this felt different.

Her boobs seemed noticeably smaller. She'd always been proud of her big bust, her massive tits. Now she felt smaller and weaker without them. Strangely her clit seemed engorged today though. She'd had to stop doing her studying a few times to rub at the stiff little nub between her legs. If she'd had a more active imagination she'd say it seemed to be growing... almost like a tiny little cock.

But that would be crazy... right?

***

Ry rubbed at his chest. There was definitely something there and it was growing at a faster rate now. Sweat dripped from his body and he could almost hear his bones cracking and shifting within his body. It felt... pleasurable and strangely addictive. A desire for more transformation and a faster change rose within him. It felt like something good was happening to him. He wanted more of it.

Ry felt feverish and knew that the Crispr solution was spreading through his body like a virus. It had now reached critical mass and the changes were accelerating. Riley's DNA should be merging with his own, but it didn't feel like that. Something was wrong... or was it... right?

His skin felt softer, his hips seemed to have pushed out wider. The lumps on his chest definitely felt like breasts and his hair had doubled in length again.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkk," he groaned as another series of pops and cracks within his body sent him into spasms of pleasure. "Uggggh, what's happening to me?"

His pushed his chest out and grunted... the bumps on his chest got even bigger.

***

"I can't fucking see," groaned Riley as she reached up to her face. Her vision was totally blurry now. Her body felt wrecked and strangely weak. She looked down. Her chest was smaller now... her once large D cup tits now barely a B cup.

Staggering to her mirror, Riley saw her hair looked shorter. Her skin was paler and her soft feminine features seemed a little more boyish. Her swollen clit had formed a little bulge in her leggings. She could almost imagine a pair of balls were growing underneath it and her pussy sealing up, but that would be crazy!

Riley massaged her throat. Her voice was croaky and there was a strange lump in her throat that she had never noticed before. She'd been told boys had them... Adam's apples they were called.

Sweat dripped down her body. She rubbed at her armpits. They needed shaving again, which was weird because she'd only waxed them a few days ago.

"What the fuck is this solution doing to me?" she groaned. "No increase in intelligence is worth this. I have to find Ry!"

She staggered to the hallway, then out into the living room. Her vision was swimming, she was nearly blind now. Everything ached and her breasts felt even smaller. Her head hurt... she just needed to...

With a groan Riley sank onto a sofa and passed out.

***

Ry groaned as his face burned and his back ached. His hands went to his chest, there were now two big rounded mounds there just like the ones he had always imagined owning when he wore his sisters bra. Sweat was pouring off him and his vision was all blurry. He reached up and tore off his glasses. Strange, but now he could see again.

His voice seemed croaky, his neck sore. His face felt different, the features more delicate. Long hair tickled his neck. "I fucked up somehow," he groaned. "The Crispr is making me INTO Riley. I have to find her and warn her."

Staggering out of the room, dizzy and sick - he staggered into the living room. A figure was passed out on one of the couches. He tried to approach, but instead his legs began to give way. With a groan, Ry staggered to the other couch and collapsed.

Darkness took him and then the strangest dreams he'd ever had.

Meanwhile Riley's DNA continued to consume his own and change his body... the physical changes were now nearly complete...

***

DAY TWO:

Ry awoke and for a second didn't know where he was.

The room smelled different. It smelt of sexy perfume. The sheets around him were pink and girly. Riley's clothes hung on racks around the room, plushies and cushions covered every surface.

He was naked in the bed.

A post it note lay on the table by the bed.

"Morning baby, me and your step-daddy found you and your brother passed out in the lounge. Were you partying last night? We put you both to bed in the right rooms and I undressed you. Were those your brothers clothes you were wearing? What were you doing? Lol Mom. XXX"

Pulling back the sheets, Ry saw his body had completely changed. He was no longer feverish, and the big wobbling tits on his chest were definitely real. His skin was healthy and lightly tanned, he had no body hair except for a tiny strip just above his... pussy?

Reaching down, Ry gasped at the sensation of his new vagina. He snatched his hand back in shock, although the urge to put it back there swiftly returned. Sliding out of the bed, he landed onto small perfect feet, then padding quietly across the room, he reached the mirror and stared in wonder.

Riley looked back at him. Well almost. He didn't have Riley's tattoos or her ear, nose or navel piercings. He didn't have any makeup on and his hair was a mess. His fingers and toes were unmanicured... but other than that... he looked just like her.

"Holy shit," he said in her voice.

The resemblance was so perfect, that last night her own Mother hadn't recognised that he was not really her girl. Riley's DNA had changed him into her. That probably meant in the other bedroom, Riley was now waking up as a physical copy of him.

And yet it wasn't just the physical changes. Something profound had happened to his mind, to his very soul.

The Crispr virus had infiltrated every cell of Ry's body, including his brain. He had been rewired and altered. He felt a new natural confidence, sexual assurance and a strong desire to monopolise on this situation. His personality was now more like Riley's than ever before. Even in his darkest dreams he could never have imagined being such a fucking bitch.

"Yesssss, I've always wanted to be Riley," he said in a slightly evil voice. "Mmmmh, I think I knew what that Crispr virus was going to do to us... but I did it anyway. I did it because I wanted to steal her life. I want to be Riley Grey... not Riley Green."

"And now that I used the Crispr," he purred allowing this delicious new persona to take control, "I am. Even Mommy thinks that I am. I am fucking Riley Grey and I want it ALL."

A wicked grin appeared on his face and he allowed his body language to relax. How did hot girls stand... ahhh yes, like this.

"These big tits are mine, mmmmh and this perfect ass. I've been remade in your image," he laughed. "A couple of trips to the hairdressers and the tattoo artists to get inked up and pierced... and no one would ever know the difference between us. This is my chance to assume your life and become the new you. I'm not going to waste it."

Riley smiled as she began looking for some clothes to wear. She just had to make 'Ry' understand that it was best to go along with what she wanted. The switch in pronouns was so easy to make... it suited her like a glove.

She was a woman now, she had all the equipment and soon no one would ever know she had ever been her dorky step-brother...

She just had to manipulate him the correct way.

***

Riley awoke feeling like death. Her vision was still blurry and she felt weak and wiped out.

"Here, put these on," said a familiar voice and her vision swam back into focus as a pair of glasses slid onto her face. "Don't panic. It's me, your step-brother. Honestly, I didn't plan for this to happen. The Crispr has gone wrong... I tried it too using one of your hairs. I'm afraid we've become copies of each other."

Riley gasped as she saw herself sitting on the end of the bed. Her hair was a fucking mess and she needed some makeup, but other than that it was definitely her.

Pulling back the sheets, she groaned in a very masculine sounding voice. Her body was now entirely masculine, a small cock and a pair of balls between her legs. Her boobs were gone and her flabby white body was that of a nerdy dork.

"Oh no, we have to fix this."

"I know," said her doppleganger, "but there's a big problem. We're changing mentally as well as physically. I'm not smart enough to make the Crispr anymore so I need you help to make a new batch, then we can try to reverse these changes. "

"But I don't know how to do it either," she complained.

"I'm sure you'll find a way," purred her twin. "I'll give you the notes I made and hopefully you can decode them. In the meantime we need to act like each other so no one gets suspicious. We'll have to dress like we normally would, you'll have to hide those tattoos and those piercings. I don't know how long we might be stuck like this. I guess it could be weeks!"

***

DAY THIRTY

It had been a month.

Riley and Riley were becoming more and more like each other by the day.

Ry, as he was now known, had still not figured out how to make the Crispr. Probably because before she had given him the notes - the new Riley had made sure to delete certain important elements from the research.

Genuinely she wasn't smart enough anymore to remember or understand what she had removed - just that it had been enough to stop him. Hopefully that would be enough.

Riley didn't want a way back. She wanted to go deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole of femininity. In the last month she had discovered that being a hot, popular, girl was pretty much as amazing as she had dreamed it would be.

First of all there was the makeup and the clothes. They all made her look and feel incredible. If that wasn't enough, there was the enjoyment of sex.

Remembering that buzzing she'd heard all that time ago, Riley had uncovered the sex-toy collection. The first time she'd pushed a magic wand against her clit and felt it throb and vibrate, she'd known she was now a female sex addict.

It hadn't taken long to move from toys to the real thing... boys. There were plenty of guys wanting to fuck a hot slut like her, and after a couple of introductory sessions with some of Riley's ex-lovers - the new Riley had really picked up the pace.

There was nothing quite like bouncing on some hard cock and cumming all over it as a girl. It was such a good feeling.

If that wasn't enough, there was the social life. Riley loved being the centre of attention now... going to parties, having fun, everyone wanting to be her friend. She found the company of other hot girls intoxicating. To be part of the squad was like a dream come true.

Riley understood now she'd always harboured these desires. She'd always wanted to be like her step-sister and the Crispr had provided a way.

Of course, that meant that the new Ry probably now harboured her old desires... to cross dress and be a girl. They had probably only been heightened by the loss of his actual femininity.

Riley wondered if she could use that against him...

She wondered just how far it was possible to gaslight her new step-brother...

***

DAY 60

"Babe. What the fuck are you actually talking about? What Crispr research, I didn't delete anything from your hard-drive."

Ry stared at his sister in astonishment. Over the last few months he'd come to think of himself as male - it was somehow easier that way. His memories of being Riley were a confusing mess, sometimes it didn't even feel real. That was why it was now so confusing when Riley actually suggested it wasn't.

Over the last few days she'd been acting increasingly difficult. She kept giving him blank looks when he mentioned getting their bodies back and she had been dropping hints in from of him that he might be losing his mind.

"Listen Ry, I know you have this weird fetish for dressing up in my clothes... I found one of my bras in your room."

"Wh? WHAT? Well, those ARE my clothes," he growled angrily. "Before we swapped, those were ALL my clothes."

"Swapped, what the hell are you taking about? You keep going on about this weird dream fantasy of yours. Are you really suggesting that two months ago we both drank a formula that altered our DNA and turned us into each other. Don't you think that sounds kinda crazy?"

"It's not crazy... and when I find the research, I'll prove it to you!"

Riley watched him go with an evil smile on her perfect lips.

***

DAY 260

Riley sighed as her annoying step-bro peeked through her door. He was such a fucking pervert and always hanging around. He was easy to convince though. Sometimes she had trouble remembering her own lies now - manipulating him was getting easier by the day.

"Hey loser, get out of here. I told you I'm about to stream and I don't want you watching me."

"But Riley, I think I found something. A blog about this girl called Laura Sims, the same thing happened to her... I think."

"What thing?"

"You know, the Crispr solution... the DNA exchange. The personality and memory changes."

"Listen Ry, I already told you I don't know what the fuck you are talking about. Worse than that, I think it's time you admitted the truth. Do you really think a pathetic little loser like you could ever have been a beautiful gorgeous woman like me? Does it seem possible? Of course not. You're a boy and you've always been a boy."

"I have? What about these weird scars I have. They could be from tattoo removal right? Maybe I once had the same tattoos as you?"

"You know you got those in a fire right? Are you really suggesting that once you were me. That you had these tattoos and these piercings? That you and me somehow swapped lives and then I gaslit you into believing you had always been a boy?"

"I know it sounds crazy but..."

"It does sound crazy. Would it even matter? Would anyone believe you? I think you'll be happier if you just accept things are this way now, whatever you believe."

Sliding her hand onto his crotch, Riley grinned as she saw her step-brothers expression go soft.

"Mmmmh, why don't we stroke this little cock of yours to make it feel all better. Hmmmm?"

Ry groaned as his step-sister expertly jerked him off till he groaned and came. He watched her hot manicured hands slowly pump him up and down, draining his cock and all resistance out of him.

"There now. Feel better?"

"Yessss," he groaned.

"Good boy. Now get out of here. Go and goon in your room or something."

***

Listening to her step-brother grunting next door as he jerked off wearing her bra, Riley Grey played with her pussy and looked at herself in the mirror. Damn she was perfect. She was beautiful and sexy and hot. She loved being a girl.

She didn't even miss her old boy smarts. Who needed brains when you looked this good? Then again, she'd been doing a little research lately. She and Laura Richie had made contact and she had been intrigued by what she had found out.

She'd found out from the other girl that there was a second serum... one designed to improve the effects of the first. One that would make her a Goddess.

Maybe it was time to begin another new experiment...

THE END?

[beababoobies]

Hello!

Saw you were doing hazbin hotel request, and I can't stand that I have not found much angst on these two, and I mean angst about Sir Pentious being in heaven while Cherri is in hell.

So could you do like one where both of them just miss one another, like Cherri saluting his photo in the hotel lobby daily while Sir Pentious is just thinking about her.

Just putting this out here-

Just as I go “alright, I have reqs but imma go to bed” I see this and go 👀 because lord KNOWS I love writing angst. Yurp, I gotcha. Love Cherrisnake and it’s going to make me SOB but 🙏 yeah. This is much much shorter than I usually write but I hope you still enjoy!!

But I Can’t Help (Falling in love with you)

words : 0.6k, cherrisnake my beloved, here’s some tissues 🧻 for your tears I suppose

Ever since Pentious was murdered by Adam in the fight, Cherri had been hanging around the hotel. She kept insisting it was just to ‘be friendly’ or even ‘angel’s here.’ But after weeks of staying, even having her own room, and competing in the daily rehabilitation excersizes, it was obvious to everyone that wasn’t the case. But they couldn’t tell her that. 

Not after Charlie had seen here kneeling in front of the painting of Sir Pentious one night, crying quietly, holding herself in her arms as she looked into his eyes, wishing she had just said fuck it and gone with him. Wishing she had been smarter, admitted that she liked him. But she was stubborn, and refused to let herself fall in love with anyone. So the only thing she can keep of his is the scorching kiss he left against her lips. 

And the hotel. Every time she passed his portrait, she would salute to it. The only thing that hadn’t been destroyed in the rubble - his welcome banner - was hung up in her room. Dusty and burnt as it was, she wouldn’t take it down. And Angel was the person who knew all of this. Angel was the one who let her cry for hours about how she should’ve used her brain instead of blocking herself off.

Just like Emily, the kinder of the sarahfim, Pentious had learned, would listen to his rants about how lovely she was. How he knew she would be next up here. He would go on about their past battles, how she was such a strong opponent who always left him guessing her next move. Emily had pretty quickly caught on that it was always bombs, but wouldn’t ruin the fun for him.

He would think of her before he went to sleep, replaying the last kiss before he was redeemed over and over in his head. The way her lips were against his. The way she tasted just like he’d imagined, the taste of sweet cherries engrained in his memory. The way his hands held her waist so softly as he dipper her. The blush on her cheeks as he pulled away. 

He thought every night about what he’d do once she got up here too - maybe he’d finally have the courage to ask her out. Maybe she would be distant like she always was and reject him. But the way she’d kissed him back without hesitation brushed those thoughts out of the way. He dreamed about her, dreams from them under the stars to how beautiful and angelic she’d look with the gold accents of devine ordainment. He bets she wouldn’t even lose that beautiful snappiness in her voice.

Just like Cherri knows he would probably still be too anxious to ask her out if he’d survived. Just like she knows she would’ve done it herself after that, running up and into his arms right after the battle. She hated falling in love, she really did - but she couldn’t help but stare at his portrait for hours through the corner of her eye as Charlie explained rehabilitation in the center room. She couldn’t help but deliver flowers to the grave she’d made for him outside the hotel, every day. Without fail, for the past months he’d been gone. 

She cursed herself for starting to forget his voice - she cursed herself for forgetting how his lips felt against hers, forgetting the way his chest felt pressed up against his, the coffee in his spit that she could taste. She cursed herself for forgetting.

And Pentious lived every day knowing he could never forget. 

[dira333]

Of Swings and Snakes - Matsukawa x Reader - part 2

part 1 for anyone who missed it. I apologize for taking so long. Life hit me like a train right after writing the first part. I hope you enjoy the second part, where they get their shit together.

tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain, @togament (the angsty Mattsun anon), @constantlybeingbiaswrecked @multi-fandom-fanfic @integers @sy1v30n @iatethemochi

“Are you sure about that?” Makki asks, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, “Really sure?”

“Really, really sure,” you tell him, grabbing your purse a little tighter. “This will do me good. Get to know myself in a new city, you know? And I’m sure you’ve got other things to do than keeping me company. I’ve got to go now, though, I will call you when the plane lands.”

“No,” Makki’s hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place, “Five more minutes, okay?”

“Makki?” You level him with a glare. “What’s going on?”

But there’s another voice behind him, one you wish you could have forgotten but still hear every night in your dreams. 

“Sorry,” Mattsun’s panting, sweat running down his temple, “Traffic jam.”

-

Two weeks before

“What’s for Dinner?” Makki asks, sniffing at the door. “I made Okonomiyaki,” you announce proudly, placing the dish on the table, “I hope you’re hungry.”

It’s gotten easier these days, pretending that you’re happy.

Sometimes you even find yourself laughing, smiling, forgetting about the cloud of sadness that hides in your chest, keeping you from breathing at the worst times.

You’ve yet to meet Mattsun again, and since you are part of the same friend group two weeks without him feels like a year in the real world.

But, a cold voice whispers, it’s not like you saw him a lot before your breakup anyway.

-

“I can’t believe you,” you pull away from Makki, dread heavy in your stomach. “You told him?”

“Hey,” Mattsun’s voice cuts through you like a hot knife. “Can we talk?”

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” you hiss, heart bleeding as his face falls. Somehow, even now, you’re still attached in places you didn’t know. Like two pieces of fabric, sown together so tight you can’t pull on one without hurting the other.

“You’ve got five minutes,” you tell him, throat tight. You send Makki the harshest glare you can manage. “And you can leave.”

“Sorry,” he has the decency to look ashamed as he slinks away.

You grab your purse a little tighter, the familiar feel of it soothing your nerves a little.

“Can we walk?” You ask, voice quivering, “I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Issei rubs the back of his head as he walks, one hand dangerously close to brushing yours.

“I wanted… I wanted to explain.”

“Now?”

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “I think I messed everything up.”

You stop walking, make the mistake of looking into his eyes.

The noise and bustle of the airport fades away as you remember a different time.

-

1 year before

“Promise not to tell?” Issei asks over the low hum of the Fan. It’s much too hot to be cuddling like this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“No one’s going to judge you-” You start, your voice soft, but there’s an urgency in his eyes, a desperate vulnerability you’ve never seen before, just felt in your own bones.

“I promise,” you tell him, pinkies linked over your hearts.

You can feel, little by little, how his shoulders drop, the weight of the world sliding off.

His temple presses against yours, the skin flushed and warm to the touch.

But you don’t comment on it, and neither do you mention the salty tears that drop from his eyes onto your cheeks.

Because Issei might be taller than you and stronger than you and smarter than you - sometimes - but he has yet to learn to allow himself to be.

-

“Hey,” you grab his hand, too familiar with the sight of him when he tries not to cry. 

He used to joke about it, the lone benefit of losing a game, because no one would judge you for crying then when everyone would judge you for it the rest of the time.

“Issei, it’s okay.” The words come out of their own.

When he pulls you in you can feel the tears soaking into your hair, the quiver of his shoulders as you curl your arms around him.

Maybe it’s because you cared for him for too long, the comfort you give Muscle Memory. But you don’t think it is. Because your heart beats two beats instead of one like it usually did around him. 

“Talk to me?” You ask and he nods, his chin scraping the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“No,” he shakes his head. You can feel it more than you see it. “You don’t know. Because I didn’t tell you as often as I should have. Because I thought… I was doing odd jobs in the evening, trying to get through the courses faster as a… as a surprise… Because I wanted us to get a good start. To do it right from the beginning.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, pulling back to look at him. His eyes are red and the way he wipes his nose on his sleeve is less than appealing, but he’s chuckling dryly through the pain.

“I thought… I thought I was supposed to do this on my own.”

“What-”

He shakes his head, stops you with a raised hand.

“I did a cooking class in the evenings… I wasn’t cheating.”

You gape at him.

“Why?”

“Because,” he pulls his shoulders up, “You were always cooking. I wanted to help out.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? At least when I was breaking up with you?”

You sound almost hysteric now. Issei flinches at the sound of your voice.

“I was trying-”

“No,” you shake your head. “You weren’t. You just left.”

“Because you wanted-”

“Issei,” you swallow harshly and grab his hands. “Issei, listen to me. We’re no longer kids.”

He blinks. “I know.”

“If we can’t talk about things we can’t stay together.”

“But-”

“No,” you shake your head. “You know that. It’s the little things, not the big things. You can’t just show up and ask me to stay only to make the same mistakes a few months in.”

“But I love you.”

“And I love you.” You swallow the tears that now threaten to fall from your face too. “But I think we need to grow up first.”

“How?”

Overhead your flight is called.

“I don’t know,” you admit for the first time. You have no idea what you’re doing. “But I think leaving might be a start. I’ll… I’ll text when I get there, okay?”

Your hand slips out of his only for him to grab it again, pulling you back.

You want to say something but he silences you with a kiss.

“I’ll fight for this,” he promises, a fire in his eyes that you have missed.

“Good,” you agree a little breathless, “me too.”

But you still leave.

-

3 weeks later

“Oh, Boyfriend’s calling,” your coworker jokes as you sprint back to your desk at the sound of your ringtone.

“It’s not like that,” you try to explain what is, in fact, not that easy to explain.

“Hey,” you’re out of breathe as you pick up, checking the clock on the wall. You’ve got about fifteen minutes before your next shift starts.

“Hey,” Issei’s voice is warm, yet cautious. “Bad timing?”

“It’s okay,” you huff, getting comfortable. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. How’s everybody doing?”

-

Whoever said that relocating to a new country is easy has either lied or did drugs half of the time.

Because it’s neither easy nor enjoyable at first.

Or maybe that’s just the way it is when you relocate with a severely broken heart.

Your new apartment is even smaller than the one you lived in before even though you share it with a roommate - Sang Hee is a lot cleaner than Issei, but she plays the drums every night. You’ve yet to find your comfort foods in the stores near your apartment and making Onigiri yourself just doesn’t hit the same way.

And it’s lonely, living like this.

Sure, there’s Sang Hee and Ae-cha from your business Class and Dae-hyun from work, but they don’t know you the way Issei, Makki, or even Kyoutani knew you. 

All those inside jokes and memes are lost on them and it’s hard to build it all up anew.

-

“You do have a tendency to shut others out,” Ae-chan diagnoses you over coffee like she’s just guessed your favorite anime. “Have you ever thought about therapy?”

“I don’t- I- I guess, I-” You stammer as she blows on her tea to cool it down.

“I do have someone I can recommend,” she smiles. “And I apologize if I’m being too forward, but my mom and my dad are both therapists. I think it runs in the family.”

“Ouch.”

She laughs. “I get that a lot. Now, tell me about your boyfriend again.”

“He’s not my-”

“Tell me about your friend, who is a boy and used to live with you.”

You sigh. “Well, his name is Issei and he never put his dirty socks where they belong…”

-

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Issei asks.

“I-” You hesitate for a second, wringing your hands. “It feels weird to see you here. Like you don’t belong to this city yet. As if I cut you out of my dreams and placed you in front of a greenscreen.”

He doesn’t laugh. His arms hang limp and you move to grab one arm, feel the familiar sensation of his rough, warm skin on yours. 

Ever since you’ve left, you’ve been in constant contact.

Sometimes it’s just a text, letting the other know how you’d rate your day. Sometimes he calls, the conversation going for hours on end.

It’s easier, in a way, to admit things when you can’t see his face. 

It feels like noone can judge, in the Silence of your room.

“Makki says hello,” he mumbles now, his fingers closing around yours.

You leave that uncommented. 

You and Makki still talk, but you feel like he’s not quite understanding what you’re going through. Why you have to stay away for so long.

Issei doesn’t ask you to come back when he leaves. But he leans down to kiss you, steady posture even as you lean in as well, meeting him in the middle.

-

“One day, we’ll tell our children,” you tell him at night, his voice crackling through the receiver.

“That we were stupid?”

“Stupid as hell,” you agree. “Followed all the wrong advice.”

He hums low in his throat and you can see him, huddled up in bed, sleep dragging him down.

“Will you marry me?” He asks, the question as soft as the one before.

“Yeah,” you agree just as softly, “I will.”

Because this isn’t a proposal. This is what communication has come to between you. 

You can talk about the future with a different certainty now. 

It will happen. You just don’t know yet when.

-

Finally

“Welcome back,” Issei’s arms are open and you snuggle right in, giggling when his hug lifts you off the ground.

Behind you, our belongings wait to be carried to his apartment. Your apartment.

And even though you’ve been there before, it feels different now.

Because you’re not leaving again.

This time, you’re here to stay.

Oh and Makki? Rumour has it he’s renting the apartment on the other side of the hallway. 

-

“Hey,” Issei meets you in the kitchen around midnight. “Can’t sleep?”

“I needed to pee and when I got up I had this craving for chocolate.” You hold the spoon to his lips so that he can lick it. “I was going to bring it to you.”

Instead of answering, he pulls you close.

It has been a hard time, for the both of you.

Figuring out who you are, who the other is and, most importantly, how to find a way out of your arguments. 

“Did you find the box?” Issei whispers into your ear.

“Oh, you mean the box you hid behind the chocolate sprinkles.”

You can feel his lips stretch into a smile.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“Dunno, what’s the question?”

He snorts before letting go.

You already know what you’re going to see when you turn, but you do it anyway.

Issei, on one knee, wearing his ridiculous Pokemon Pajamas he got from Makki once… holding a velvety ring box in his left hand.

“Will you marry me?”

“Always.”

[writeyouin]

Could I request a scenario? During the mutiny of the Lost Light, liaison reader somehow missed the whole thing and is stuck on the Lost Light with no leadership and some bots who are not too keen on them being there. They hide out in the vents and sort of just stay there like “Day 23 in the vents. They haven’t found me yet but when they do they’ll be surprised.” Getaway swears he hears something but bots who are friends with the liaison swear they can’t hear anything.

A/N – Okay, so I actually wrote a full fic for this last year and I was typing it up and the whole thing got deleted and then I couldn’t find the notebook I wrote it in and ever since then I’ve just despised that I lost it and never attempted to re-write it. Anyway, now I’m going to do it as bullet points.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Maybe it’s just because you were so small that you escaped into the vents unnoticed, or maybe Getaway was planning on keeping you as a hostage, or some kind of fucked up pet. That seemed like something he would do.

Either way, when the chaos began, you went unfound, and you decided to keep it that way, stubbornly hiding inside the ventilation system. You knew them a bit too well because of regular games with Skids where you hunted one another, trying to beat the timer.

You had tried to get to Rodimus, Megatron, Ratchet, and any number of the bots you knew. But there was no reaching them in time.

Now, you were stuck on the Lost Light, unable to return to your room, except for the rare occasions you needed to reach the food replicator. You were damned lucky there were a select number of tiny storage compartments only you could get into which had been turned into toilets for you.

Frankly, you wished more of them were showers, but sometimes it helped to be sweaty and gross as you mentally lived the John McClane lifestyle, though frankly, you could get through the vents upright, with no need to crawl.

Initially, Getaway must have suspected that you might still be on the ship because he put your room under guard and left food traps out for you.

Honestly, how stupid did he think you were?

You were smarter than he knew, and on top of it, you were pissed.

Yet, when it became clear you couldn’t rescue the bots he and his crew had mutinied against, you decided to use your intellect to psychologically destroy him… or at least fuck with him as best you could.

Having fallen asleep in the vents, you had lost track of him. This happened every couple of days or so since you were more determined to watch Getaway than you were to rest.

Honestly, you didn’t know whether you were more or less healthy than before. You were losing weight from tiredness, despite having enough food and water in your pack from the replicator. But you had more stamina and endurance than before from all the stalking you did.

“Target acquired,” You said under your breath as you found Getaway in his hab-suite. He was in stasis.

Perfect.

You got in position, standing directly above his chassis.

“Okay,” You whispered, kneeling and rooting through your backpack. “Ready to deploy, Agent RJ?”

Agent RJ was one of the Roombas you had collected from the vents. They had a more rounded top than Earth Roombas, and kind of reminded you of a horseshoe crab with the rounded top.

This one was Agent RJ, full alias: Rodimus Junior.

You had recruited it, painted it with Rodimus’ colours, and now you were going to drop it on your enemy while he slept.

Lifting the vent grate slightly, you threw Agent RJ as hard as you could, then scurried back where you wouldn’t be seen.

Getaway woke with a start then yelped an undignified scream at the sight of the message on top of RJ.

I’m coming for you, you ship-stealing fragger!

The best part was that it was written in Cybertronian so he wouldn’t ever think of suspecting you. You had learned to write it from Cyclonus a long time ago, though it was impossible for you to speak it.

Take that fucker.

Getaway ran to the other side of the room, starting the alarm. You smiled in satisfaction. It was great whenever he did that. The remaining crew were getting really sick of his paranoid antics. Especially when Getaway claimed he kept hearing someone, but that was also just you pretending to be the voices of those he’d thrown off the ship, though you only did it when he was alone.

Once, Roller had heard you and found you shortly thereafter, but he had let you go and told you to stay hidden.

You asked him why he was helping you, and he’d informed you there were a few bots with regrets about the mutiny.

You visited him when you could, but it was always a risk to leave the protection of your high haven. Still, you felt safe knowing there was at least one bot on the ship who would look out for you, probably more if the rumours about others regretting their actions were to be believed.

You waited for Getaway to get some distance from you before going after him, leaving just enough of a gap so as not to be noticed while you spoke into a… Well, you didn’t know what it was, but for the sake of your sanity, the little machine was a voice recorder, even if it couldn’t technically do that.

“Day 32 in the vents. Mission success. Note: Enlist more Roombas into the rebellion.”

It took a little while to run across another of the little cleaners whilst following snatches of Getaway’s conversation, seeing him every couple of minutes through the grates you passed over.

You snatched up the Roomba, hugging it to your chest.

Then, very seriously, you addressed it, “Welcome to the war effort, Megatron Junior. Sometime in the next 30 days, you will be deployed to the enemy camp when he sleeps. You have until then to train.”

When Getaway finally settled in a seat, grumbling at his subordinates, you took some time to start painting Agent MJ. He needed to look good for his Quest against that double-crossing son of a bitch.

[mistressofpuppets86]

Fireworks of our own

Pairing: Present day James Hetfield x reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Synopsis: You’re settling into life in a new town and a new state after a massive and massively unexpected inheritance. You become close with the highly recognizable and hot as fuck heavily tattooed… and somewhat recently divorced… silver fox that you learn lives across the street from you.

Warnings: 18+. There will be smut. Minors, fuck off. RPF. 1st person POV. 20-ish year age gap. Reader is early 40s, James is 60. Reader’s race is not mentioned or described, but is AFAB and female identifying. Due to the lack of female readers with my body type when body type is described/hinted at, reader is also short and somewhat plus-sized, and has small breasts. Unprotected sex. Public sex. Creampie.

Moving into the large expensive house I’d inherited in Colorado turned out to be one of my smarter decisions.  The house used to belong to my step-aunt and step-uncle.  I didn’t find out until after they were both gone that they’d made an agreement codified in their wills.  What it boiled down to was that their biological relatives were a bunch of greedy vultures who loved to squabble over anything of value, vying with each other for the best of whatever it was and only caring about what benefit there was for themselves in literally any situation.  It shocked me as much as anyone when I was the one named sole beneficiary of their entire estate.  I don’t know what would have happened had I turned it down, but turning down enough of a bank account to make me independently wealthy plus a variety of stocks and other investments that were continuing to provide income and a plush house in the ski town of Vail was not something I would do.  I never had to work again if I didn’t want to, and the house was entirely paid off.  It would have been complete idiocy to reject all that.  In further interest of not being a complete idiot, I also took measures as soon as possible to ensure my step-aunt’s and step-uncle’s wishes were respected.  In the event of my untimely death, ‘those people’ would still inherit nothing.  I used the same lawyers my step-aunt and step-uncle had to ensure my will was as ironclad as theirs had been, in case ‘those people’ contested mine as my step-aunt’s and step-uncle’s had been contested when I was named sole heir.

What surprised me was how friendly the rest of the residents were, and how patient they were in getting me integrated into the community.  Being autistic and having ADHD made social interactions feel weird and awkward to me when I was around new people.  Everyone in Vail was new to me.  I’d moved here alone and used a moving company to do all the hard work for me.  My friends were all online and lived in other states if not other countries so it hadn’t seemed like a big deal for me.  Especially since I was such an introverted type by nature.  But something about Vail put me at ease and made it easier for me to open up to people.  It helped that they were understanding of my differences and made an effort to work with them rather than treating me with pity or like I was something to be shunned.

The real shock was my across-the-street neighbor turning out to be James fucking Hetfield of all people.  Thankfully he’d been amused rather than weirded out by my reaction to seeing him and learning he was my neighbor now.  I didn’t hide that I was a fan, but I did at least try to keep things mellow in his presence.  It helped that he was super down to earth and generally a fun guy to be around.  It didn’t take me long to relax around him while we talked and got to know each other.  I definitely had my freak-out once I was alone in my house though.

That was months ago.  Now we’re at a local park for a Fourth of July community event.  I had worn a cute spaghetti strap lavender dress with white flowers on it.  The hemline fell to a little below my knees, and there was a slit from the hem to mid thigh on the left.  The skirt part was flared enough to mostly hide my chubby belly while the bodice was a little fitted to give me some shape, with lightly padded breast cups that flattered my small bust.  I’d paired it with black strappy low-heeled wedge sandals and my hair was brushed and twisted up in a claw clip.  I spritzed on some orange-vanilla-cinnamon body spray, and was ready.  I had never been a makeup girl so I didn’t even own any.  James had given me a look I couldn’t interpret when he’d rung my doorbell so we could drive over together, but he’d also offered me his arm with a playful grin.  I’d happily taken it, grinning back and trying to ignore the way my heart fluttered in my chest as we walked to his vehicle together.  He was looking especially good himself today.  Well-fitted jeans, a t-shirt that hugged his lean body just right and showed off his tattoos, and one of his many pairs of black boots.  One of his many cowboy style hats sat on top of his silvered head.  Normally that kind of thing didn’t have any special effect on me.  But when that sort of hat was on him, it made the song lyric ‘save a horse ride a cowboy’ come to mind.

He parked and we walked toward the entrance.  When I saw just how many people were gathered in the park, my steps faltered.  It was weird.  I’d had no crowd anxiety at the few concerts I’d managed to get to, but this made me hesitate.  Maybe it was because at concerts I was surrounded by fellow metalheads and felt safe there.  Even when I didn’t know them personally we were already bonded through the music and shared love of the same band.  That connection and feelings of belonging and community weren’t present here at the park.  I’d barely stopped walking when I felt James’s arm drape over my shoulders and pull me in close to him.  I looked up at him even as I leaned against him and wrapped an arm around his waist.  Instead of the irritation or other negative emotions I had expected to see in his face and eyes there was nothing but understanding, patience, and reassurance.  “We’ve got this, babe” he murmured, giving me a squeeze.  I smiled up at him and gave his waist a squeeze as my heart flipped in my chest at the endearment and his embrace.  Then we entered the park together.

Once the initial anxiety had dissipated I was able to relax and enjoy the afternoon.  James insisted on paying for everything no matter how much I protested and reminded him I had my own money.  He countered that it was the gentlemanly thing to do.  Having no answer to that, I gave up trying to prevent him from doing it.  What was even more surprising to me was that he didn’t end up mobbed by fans.  I was sure at least some people recognized him - especially with his tattoos so readily visible and recognizable - no one approached for autographs or photos or anything.  With as at ease as he was, I could only be happy for him that he could still go out in public and do normal things like anyone else.  

We both lost most of the carnival games we played, but James had a decent win at one of them and insisted I pick out the prize since he intended for me to keep it anyway.  I chose the plush possum - about the size of a housecat - as soon as I spotted it.  I tucked it into the tote bag I was carrying, positioning it so the fuzzy head was sticking up out of the top.  “So he can see everything going on” I joked, making James laugh.  

As night fell we found ourselves at the edge of the grassy area that had been set aside for fireworks viewing.  With the setting sun, the warmth from the day seeped away and left everything on the chillier side.  Enough that it made me glad for the two blankets we’d brought… one to sit on, and one to cover up with.  We ended up with him using the tote bag as a pillow, and me - at his insistence - using his shoulder as a pillow.  Not that I minded, of course.  His arm wrapped around me and kept me close beside his warm solidness.  Without thinking about it, I rolled onto my side and snuggled closer with an arm over his waist.  I felt him stiffen for a second and panicked that I’d overstepped, but then I felt him relax and his arm tightened around me in a brief squeeze.  “Comfy?” he asked playfully, his voice low enough only I could hear what he said.

I shifted my head to look at him and my heart skipped at how close his face was to mine.  It was difficult to see much in the darkness but I could make out the amused quirk of his lips.  “Very much so… babe” I replied just as softly and playfully, pointedly tossing his earlier endearment back at him.

James let out a quiet bark of a laugh.  “Shit.  And here I thought I’d gotten away with that” he joked, the tip of his nose brushing against mine.  I knew he could feel my racing heart but he said nothing about it.

“Mmm… you kinda did, in a way” I murmured, rubbing my nose against his in turn.  “Clearly I didn’t mind you calling me that since I didn’t raise any protest.  And I certainly wouldn’t be laying like this with you right now” I pointed out even as I felt him roll onto his side facing me.  He murmured a quiet agreement, his lips close enough to mine I could feel his breath as he spoke.  Then his lips were on mine, tentative and testing at first then with more confidence and assurance when I responded eagerly and kissed him back.  A soft moan left my throat and my leg slid over his hip, my own hips pressing against him.  I felt the rumble of his moan too and his strong hand spread over the curve of my ass, pulling me even more tightly against him.  Tight enough I could feel his hard cock through his jeans.  I rolled my hips against his and deepened the kiss.

Carefully, James slid my dress up over my hips to my waist and my own hand tugged his jeans zipper down, fingers delving into the fabric to free his length.  I could feel exactly how thick he was too, my hand wrapping around him and stroking until his hand gently took hold of my wrist.  “Gonna bust like a virgin boy if you keep that up” he growled softly in my ear.  “And I wanna be in you when I bust” he added with a nip that made me whimper in pleasure as much as his words did.  I let him take control again, his long fingers tugging my panties to the side and guiding his tip through my slick folds.  “Holy fuck you’re soaked” he murmured as he sank into me.  I made a noise of need, and he quickly smothered the sound with another searing kiss as his hips slowly rolled and he thrust into and out of me.

The way he filled me was absolute perfection, and each drag and push of his cock would have had me moaning loud enough for us to be caught even over the noise from the fireworks show starting had he not kept his mouth on mine and my tongue busy with his.  It was bliss and torture at the same time that he kept his pace steady, his movements small but intense so we could both finish but hopefully not have our activities noticed.  “James… getting close” I murmured against his lips, my pussy fluttering around his cock as he brought me closer to my peak.

“Good.  Cum for me, my love.  Cum all over this cock” he murmured back.  The command in his tone, him calling me his love, and the way he was fucking me sent me over the edge.  He kissed me hard to keep my moans muffled, grunting softly and bucking into me hard as he followed me over that edge, his hot seed shooting deep into me and filling me to the brim.  We lay there in each others’ arms after, his cock still buried inside me, kissing slowly and languidly for a short while.  But then the finale of the fireworks happened and we knew our cover would be up soon.  He withdrew from me and tugged my panties back into place before his cum could leak out onto my thighs.  Then he kissed me once more and rolled onto his back to tuck his cock back into his pants and zip up.  We pulled our arms out from under the blanket to make everything look innocent just in time for the end of the display and the other attendees to start packing up to go home.

“What did you two think of the show?” a man around my age with a woman who looked to be about the same age at his side asked us as James helped me to my feet and we started folding up the blankets and gathering our things by the light of cell phone flashlights.  James and I exchanged a mischievous look and grinned.

“It was great” I replied, my voice even.  “Best display I’ve ever seen” I added.

“I was just telling my girlfriend how much better the show was this year than last year” James added, his eyes and smile full of mischief.  I felt my cheeks heat but I grinned back and made a comment about how I was glad to have been part of it.  Warmth blossomed in my chest at him declaring me his girlfriend.  The other couple seemed a little surprised but continued the conversation and didn’t seem to be judging either James or I over the obvious age gap between us.  I couldn’t tell if they knew who James was and accepted it as a general celebrity thing or if they were just chill like that.  Either way worked for me.

James draped his arm over my shoulders again and I put my arm around his waist as we walked back to the parking lot, each of us carrying things as we had done coming in.  His cum slowly leaked out of my hole and soaked my panties as we walked.  When we got to the vehicle, I reached for one of the blankets to put on my seat for the drive home.  He raised an eyebrow in question.  “If I don’t put down a barrier, I’m going to leave a wet patch on your seat from your cum soaking through my clothes” I said bluntly, leaning in close.  He smirked at me and held me close with his hands on my hips.  My arms went around his neck and he kissed me gently.

“Mmm… worth it though” he teased, making my cheeks heat again.  He kissed me once more and gave my ass a double-handed squeeze.  “Now let’s get home so we can get fully naked.  I wanna taste your pussy before I fuck you properly and have you screaming my name while I fill you with my cum again” he growled softly in my ear.  I shivered and made a needy sound that brought a grin to his lips.  When he released me and went to the driver side with long strides, I wasted no time getting into the vehicle and closing the door, buckling my seatbelt.  My panties were wet with more than just James’s cum, and I was eager for not just the rest of the night with him but the rest of our lives together.  I knew, somehow, that we belonged only to each other now.

[moon-buggg]

Outside perspective

a bit of a look into how the townsfolk view YN and their curious new companions. I... may have gone a bit overboard with making it read like a classic gothic horror story lmao. eventually I will get an ao3 account up and running and start posting these there.... someday

word count: 1113

content warnings: brief mentions of grave robbing, Sun and Moon are referred to as 'it' by the narrator who doesn't know them

I do not know what drives a man to madness, what seed of evil must be planted to allow one to turn his back against all that is right and moral. Men far smarter than I have argued since time immemorial over the root cause of evil; whether it is some inborn trait, a dark miasma that consumes one whole, the work of devils, or simply the nature of free will. I know not from which deep recess of hell such wickedness sprung forth, but I know that I have seen its face. It is a face that haunts my dreams- my very being. A face that looms over the night and seeks to destroy all that righteous men hold dear. A face that is impossible to forget. A face I cannot possibly begin to describe here, for fear of calling it forth to haunt me further.

Should such evils have a singular origin, it is whatever dark corner spawned that wretched doctor. 

I still remember the fateful day they first appeared like a grim specter over our small village. The veritable calm before the storm. It had been raining heavily for several days, the roads transformed into a dense mud that threatened to consume any unlucky enough to be forced out of shelter. That day the rain had given way to a cloying fog, out from which stepped a stranger, cloaked in what might have once been a pristine white coat but was currently stained with the evidence of their struggle with the muddy roads.

I wish I could say I had sensed something was wrong the moment they stepped foot into my tavern, but truthfully I had felt sorry for the wet, muddy thing slumped over my counter looking for a hot meal. I know now the error I made welcoming them not only into my establishment but our town.

They were moving into the old manor in the woods, and, unable to locate it in the fog, had resigned to seeking warm shelter and a meal, both of which I was readily able to provide. They avoided talking about themself as much as possible, simply stating that they had business which was to be tended to alone. I assumed they were a melancholic artist or poet looking to escape the woes of city life. It was not until much later I learned they were a doctor, of all things.

They did not leave their name.

Fed, rested, and provided with the best directions I could manage, the stranger was gone. I had tried to offer them board for the night seeing as the rain was picking up again and was sure to make their trek all the more difficult, but they were adamant they did not mind the weather and would rather settle in sooner than later.

I was left with the distinct impression they were an odd sort, an eccentric type, but largely put the stranger out of my mind. Little did I know at the time what would come of that fateful meeting.

Soon enough, a routine was formed. The first of every month the doctor would emerge from their isolation, buy barely enough food to last one person a month, and pick up an order of all manner of strange tools and supplies imported on their order from the grocer, purchase one sweet pastry from the baker, and return on their lonesome to the woods.

No one has ever seen them in town on any other occasion, for any other reason.

No one has ever seen who digs up the graves, no matter how many souls take watch over the graveyard.

So, needless to say, people were unsettled when this familiar routine was so completely altered one spring morning. When on their monthly entrance into town they were shadowed by two towering automatons. The metal jesters, for they were curiously fashioned after circus clowns, followed after their master like loyal dogs.

The first, whose face was fashioned after the sun with large bronze rays that reflect the early morning light in pale imitation of the real sun, moved most jovially down the street, practically bouncing with each step in a manner most discordant with the confusion and dread slowly spreading amongst the townsfolk. As if for an invisible crowd, every movement was performed. For what reason had the doctor fashioned such strange creations, and what fresh terror would they unleash upon our town? It strayed from its companions as the group continued into town, moving its face as if taking in the streets for the first time, its face an unnerving grim permanently etched into painted porcelain. Though uncanny in face and movements, this first jester seemed almost welcoming when compared to its twin.

As if a dark mirror to its solar companion, the second automaton seemed to soak up shadows like the night itself. It hovered just behind the doctor, its face a tragedy mask warped into lunar shape. Rather unlike its brother, this jester seemed to take no interest in observing the town, simply following its master with movements far too fluid and precise to be of man. Whenever a concerned bystander would stare too long or stray too close, the lunar automaton would, without a face capable of expression, turn and stare at the offending party, leaving the distinct impression that it was glowering at you. A most unnerving effect best compared to an overzealous guard dog.

I watched as the trio disappeared into the store, and, as if the spell keeping me in place was broken, remembered my purpose in being out so early. I could not linger and gawk at the mad doctor and their metal entourage any longer, though I was later told by the grocer that the solar automaton was quite chatty. I went about my day, resigned to putting the strange occurrence out of my mind until late at night, when solitude and darkness draw out the shadows of one's mind.

I could not help but ponder the nature of these frighteningly human automatons, and I am sure many of my peers laid away doing the same.

Bodies are going missing, that is the only thing we know for certain, and it only started once that doctor came to town. No one knows what they do sequestered in their manor, isolated in the woods, until suddenly they appear with strange creations that move and talk in a pale imitation of man. Laying awake, staring at my ceiling and overcome with a dread that seeped into my very bones, the nature of these beings haunting me. What wicked deeds mar their creation, what secrets are hidden in their metal exteriors.

[fairysluna]

SINNERS — Chapter 4

After Maegor finds out his beloved niece is to be wed with her own brother, he absolutely loses his mind. He can't just let her go.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Maegor I Targaryen x Fem!OC.

SUMMARY – A year has passed, Maegor's lies are exposed as Aenelys overheard a conversation and they both found themselves in a discussion that was interrupted by an unexpected visit and terrible news..

TW/TAGS – targcest (uncle/niece), age gap, angst, smut (humping, praising), cursing, maegor being his own warning, mentions of death, hurt/comfort, manipulation. if something is missing let me know!!

NOTE – finally i managed to sit and write for this, I'm sorry if it's not perfect, but I'm still struggling with my writer's block.😫 hopefully you'll like this!! pls enjoy🤍✨

WORD COUNT – 5.0k

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

Maegor was unable to take his eyes out of her. His hand found its way to her back, caressing the soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. His little princess was exhausted after last night, which finished with her limbs shaking and her beautiful doe eyes covered by tears. 

Aenelys had been behaving these past year, and Maegor was pleased with it. As long as he made her believe he was hers, nothing could go wrong. He was smarter this time; hiding his mistresses in brothels while her princess remained oblivious of his acts, waiting for his return and opening her soft legs to him because she was getting obsessed with the pleasure he could provide to her.

He was no fool, not at all. He knew there was no way he could be inside her without getting her with child, and that was no good for his plans… he needed her a maiden, he could not allow her to breed a bastard, not when her title and prestige were at risk. Those were two things he needed from her, her title and her legitimate child, but for that he must be patient, wait for the right moment. 

But that does not mean he could not have fun with her in the meantime.

Maegor found himself searching for new methods of pleasure that would work for both, one of his favorites will forever be having her plump lips around him. The first time she learned how to please him with her mouth, she was acting shy and flustered, nervously touching him until he decided to control her movements. Aenelys turned out to be strangely good at this, pleasing him like no other.

"Not even the most expensive whore can suck my cock like you do, my sweet dove," he had told her as he wiped the tears off her flushed face. Aenelys smiled widely, feeling proud after realizing that she was better than anyone. She thought that he would only seek release in her after that… but how wrong she was.

There is no secret that Maegor had some carnal need that needed to be fulfilled, and his wish to be inside some tight, wet walls were too overwhelming to be ignored. This is why, after those times where he could not get satisfied by her touch, he would leave once he made sure she was sleeping, and seek that much needed release with someone else; his dear friend and favorite mistress, Tyanna. 

Ser Draqos knew about his dirty little secret, for he would guard the princess door each night, seeing how her beloved uncle and lover would leave her alone for some common whore. It was hard for him to understand how Maegor, a man who had in his power a woman as sweet and beautiful as the princess, decided to sneak out like a rat in the middle of the night and lock himself in brothels with other women. It was nonsense that only a fool could understand. 

But now Maegor was laying beside her, his big hand on her back as she started to move, her eyes slowly opening as she turned around with a small, sleepy smile. Maegor put his hand around her neck, not squeezing it but leaving it there as a sign of some kind of dominance over her, something that the princess loved to feel. 

"How beautiful you look in the mornings," he whispered, brushing his nose against hers in a strangely soft touch. "Did you sleep well?" 

"I always sleep well with you by my side," she murmurs in response. Maegor smirked, almost hearing the devotion in her voice.

Without saying a word, he pressed his lips against hers in a hungry kiss. Aenelys moaned; the sudden act made her heart flutter, still not getting used to these heated touches that made her limbs go numb. The butterflies on her belly blurred her thoughts as he possesively devoured her lips with a fervor that left her breathless. She squirmed beneath him, so easy to arouse. Maegor knew exactly the effect he had on her, and he knew that if he dared to touch between her legs he would find nothing but her sweet slick running down her thighs. Her flesh begging to be touched.

She sighed as he leaned back, a small string of saliva joining their swollen lips as Maegor's darkened eyes stared at hers with a hunger that made her legs shake. He had woken up with the intention of devouring her in every way, not satisfied with the action that took place the night before. Aenelys felt his hand roaming down her body, a small squeeze on her left breast before he positioned himself between her legs, spreading them open for him to see all of her. 

She blushed, looking at him with those beautiful eyes that screamed innocence - or at least what was left of it. Maegor growled, his fingers involuntarily touching her soaked folds as she mewled beneath him, her hips moving upwards as she searched for more of his touch. 

"Look how wet you are for me, my sweet doe," he mumbled, towering her body as he leaned forward, a shadow casting over her petite frame and hiding her from the sunlight. "And all of this is for me, right?" He asked using that husky tone that sent her into a submissive and pleading state. She nodded as a response muttering a small 'yes' that could be easily mistaken with soft gasps. 

Maegor, discontent with that answer, put his hand back around her neck and squeezed it. Aenelys purred under his touch and a smug grin appeared on her uncle's lips. 

"I made you a question, princess," he murmured as he brushed his nose against her cheek. "Answer me." His low voice caused chills down her spine, making her pearl throb with excitement.

"It's- it's all for you," she replied in a sigh, her voice thin and weak as he pressed himself against her. His length felt the warmth of her folds and a groan left his lips as she moved her hips, starting to hump on him. 

"Good girl…" he sighed.

Maegor then started to move as well, his hips meeting hers in slow but hard movements that made her whine. His hardness rubbing against her swollen bud almost made her eyes roll, her hands holding onto his shoulders at the same time he kissed her. The muffled noises of their passion were echoing in the room. 

"I can't wait to be inside you, my dear," he whispered against her lips, "I bet you would feel so good around my cock, squeezing me with that tight cunny of yours." 

His words did nothing but to increase her arousal, her cheeks turning red as her mind flooded with images of him claiming her as his. Her mouth dropped open with a whine, her clit throbbing as he used his free hand to press himself further into her soaked flesh. Aenelys closed her eyes, her back arching as his grip around her neck tightened even more. 

"Does it feel good, byka mēre?" Little one. That bloody nickname sent waves of heat all over her trembling body as she whimpered a response. "Are you going to cum? I can hear how wet you are, love… So needy for me." 

She felt the knot of her lower belly starting to form, searching for that needed release as his name fell from her lips like a sacred prayer. After he let go of her neck, his lips wrapped around one of her sensitive nipples, licking and sucking the delicate bud as she frowned in pleasure and her whole body shook. The stimulation between her legs, plus his hungry mouth roughly working on her breasts, made her see stars behind her eyelids, her limbs shaking as her cries of pleasure became louder. 

Aenelys fell apart beneath his thick frame, crying his name as she reached her overwhelming climax. Her breathing was fast, ragged. Her eyes closed as he kept moving trying to find his release - which was far to come. 

After a few seconds, Maegor kept going in an useless attempt to feel that knot in his gut. The stimulation was not enough for him, and the frustration was growing inside him, losing his patience. Aenelys started to cry even louder, the overstimulation being too much that it became a bit painful. Maegor groaned.

He let go, trying to use his hand but it was still not enough. Aenelys saw his struggle and she tried to make things better as she noticed how his patience was hanging from a thin thread. 

"I can… I can use my mouth-" 

"Be quiet," he snapped at her as he stood up, lurking for his clothes around her chambers. 

Aenelys covered her nudity with the thin sheets of her bed, staring at Maegor as a tiny feeling of inefficiency filled her chest, almost making her cry. It was not the first time this would happen, and even when she would offer to please him in other ways, he would grab his things and leave her room… just like he did this time. 

The princess felt a slight pain in her heart as she was left alone, trying to convince herself that the next time will be different. Trying to convince herself that he went to the training yard instead of a brothel. 

Though she was not very sure of that. 

A few minutes later passed before one of her loyal maids entered her room, preparing a warm bath for her. Aenelys found herself relaxing in the water while Henela washed her hair. The princess had been unable to focus on anything besides what happened with Maegor, she wondered what she could do to be better for him, to please him and leave him satisfied. 

"Are you still a maiden, Henela?" The princess suddenly asked, the lady almost blushed at the question. 

"Uh… no, princess, I'm not," she hid her nervousness behind an awkward giggle. 

"So you know how to properly please a man, right?" Aenelys asked again without shame. She turned around looking up at the flustered maid, the curiosity shining through her eyes. 

"Well, there's many ways to please a man," Henela explained, going to search for the princess' robe. "You can use your hands, or your mouth-"

"I have done those things-"

"Have you?" She interrupted with surprise. 

"I have," Aenelys nodded, standing from the tub and wrapping the robe around her body. "But it seems as if they are not enough… Is there anything else I could do to please him?"

The shock on Henela's face was undisguisable. 

"I'm not quite sure what else you can do, those things usually work," she murmured, now feeling a bit embarrassed. "Has he ever… been inside you?" 

Aenelys shook her head, "he does not want to," she sadly said. "He says a princess shall always wait for marriage."

"Is he planning to wed you?" Henela curiously asked. 

"Yes," she nodded excitedly, "Though I'm not quite sure when, but I know we will get married someday…" Henela felt a tingle of pity on her chest after seeing her dreamy eyes and knowing the truth about Maegor. "He gave me this necklace when I was sixteen," Aenelys said as she grabbed the pendant hanging around her neck, "I think he gave it to me as a promise…" 

"Pardon me for my intrusion, my princess, but is he not already married?" Henela asked. 

Aenelys smile trembled a little and she shook her head, as if she was trying to downplay the situation she was in. 

"Oh, yes, but here we're free, and we can get married even if he's married in Westeros, can we not?" she shrugged, still with a soft smile on her face that was so hard to watch for her maid. "Besides, Ceryse does not love him, not like I do. He deserves a good wife, someone who can give him what he wants."

"What does he want?" 

"A child!" Aenelys excitedly said. 

"Oh…" she simply said.

"How lovely would it be to be carrying his child," Aenelys murmured, standing in front of the mirror and placing her hand on her belly. "But firstly, I need to know how to properly please him. Is there any advice?"

Henela sighed, "Men usually like it when women take control or seem to be confident in the marital bed," she explained, "for that you need to be on top, riding him."

"Like a horse?" 

Her maid giggled softly, "not quite, but the movements are rather the same. Moving your hips in circles or back and forth, it drives them crazy." 

"Does it?"

Henela nodded.

"Please, also remember that men like to hear your pleasure, so you have to be loud, but try not to be too obvious about it or they will know you are lying." 

"That is a bit confusing," Aenelys giggled. Henela laughed too.

"Men are complicated, my princess, but if there is something that can keep them interested is a good sexual companion… I'm sure Prince Maegor would be rather infatuated once he gets to bed you." 

"You think?" Aenelys blushed. 

"Definitely, my princess," she nodded. "Sometimes we can get them to do as we please by just opening our legs, they always think with their cocks."

"Henela!" She gasped, laughing at the word she used and slightly blushing. It was not very common for her to hear a lady using that term.

"It is the truth!" Henela giggled, making her sit in a chair in order to brush her hair. 

"I think the fact he's waiting for me is the purest act of love," Aenelys murmured, her silly smile and dreamy eyes coming back to enlighten her face. "The fact that he stopped seeing his whores is proof that he actually loves me, right?"

The way the princess smiled made her feel pity again; she could only ask for the truth to be out. She simply nodded, hiding the guilt behind a soft look in her eyes. Henela had a special spot for the princess, and she was not going to be the one telling Maegor's little secret and eventually breaking her heart. 

A few hours later she was walking towards the dining room to break her fast. A freshened look on her face as she had taken a hot bath and had her braids done by Henela, leaving any trace of sadness behind after what had happened inside her room. She kindly smiled at everyone who crossed her path; the princess had known how to win every servant's heart, which is why they would always give her pity glances as she walked - they knew what her beloved uncle did behind her back. No one dared to say a word, everyone was too afraid of the Prince to even think about confessing his lie. 

Everyone but Draqos, who was standing in the hall being threatened by a very angry Maegor. Aenelys found them, slowing her pace and quietly approaching the corner to spy. She was able to see her uncle's back and Draqos' face under the sunlight. She frowned, noticing how her loyal guard was visibly mad, his eyes throwing daggers at the man in front of him as they seemed to have a not so friendly conversation. 

She was not able to hear clearly, but her heart ached when she heard his last words before he left: "Consider yourself dead if you dare to tell her about this."

Aenelys frowned, her confused expression being plastered in her face as she leaned back in the wall trying to make sense of what Maegor had just said. That is when a hand was pressed on her shoulder, a touch so gently and caring. Draqos looked down at her lilac eyes, and with a single glance he knew that he had heard part of the conversation.

"What did he mean?" she asked softly, trying not to jump into conclusions. 

"Princess, you shouldn't have heard that," Draqos sighed, almost looking ashamed.

"But I did," she firmly replied, "what did he mean?" she repeated, her eyes never leaving his as she was forcing him to answer her. "I demand you to tell me what is going on."

The inner struggle was obvious in his eyes as he immediately looked away, unable to resist the temptation to tell her the truth if he was staring at her. Aenelys silently pleaded for an answer. 

"He will not hurt you if you decide to speak to me," she told him, softly speaking in an attempt to make him talk. "I will make sure you are safe, I promise."

With that, Draqos was easily convinced. His sweet princess was begging for an answer and he was not going to be the one to deny her of it. He would never deny her anything.

"I'm afraid the prince has been seen occasionally escaping during the nights, and sometimes during the days," he started, his voice somewhat soft as if he was trying to make everything less painful. "He visits the brothels almost every week, seeking companionship in the arms of a courtesan named Tyanna." 

Aenelys pressed her lips into a thin line as she took in the heartbreaking news of the not so unexpected treason. Draqos got a bit worried when he did not see sadness in her eyes; he saw anger. Her soft, doe eyes turned into flames as she imagined that woman touching what belonged to her. 

"How long has this been going on?" she asked. 

Draqos took a deep breath, "it has never stopped, my princess." 

She sighed, a shaky sigh that almost broke his heart. 

"I need you to promise me something, Ser Draqos," Aenelys softly spoke as she took a step closer and looked up at him. Their closeness would not be well seen if someone walked in, but he was not going to be the one to push her away. 

"Anything," he whispered, his deep brown eyes looking at her lilac ones with a devotion she wished to see in Maegor. 

"You are my protector, you sworn yourself to me when we first arrived here," she said as she grabbed his hand. "I do not want just your protection. I want your loyalty and sincerity. Do not lie or hide things from me again." 

"Princess-"

"Promise me," she demanded. 

"I promise you," he answered without missing a beat, not even doubting himself. "My princess, I will always be loyal to you… Until my last breath." 

Aenelys nodded, taking in his words and closing her eyes when he leaned to kiss her forehead, his lips lingering there longer than they should have; it brought some sense of peace and calmness. The princess muttered a small 'thank you', before she took a step back and looked at the floor, as if she was avoiding his stare. She excused herself before her expression hardened again and she walked away from him.

With a single glance to her determined steps, he knew where she was walking to, so he walked behind her just to make sure she would be safe. 

Aenelys reached for the door and pushed it open, hard enough to disrupt the calm environment that had been established in the dining room. Maegor frowned as he looked at her, the sign of dried tears in her rosy cheeks immediately worked as a warning that something was not right, and the realization hit when Draqos stood behind her.

"Leave," she ordered to all the servants that were staring at her with curious eyes. Everyone left, except for Draqos. "You too," she told him.

"Princess-"

"Go," she interrupted him. Draqos doubted for a second, staying still while giving quick glances to Maegor; he did not trust him. However, he eventually turned around, reluctantly leaving the room.

Aenelys saw Maegor leaning back in the chair; his legs spreaded, his jaw moving as he was eating while a small grin appeared on his face. She knew he was going to tease her, a daring provocation in order to make her explode; she tried not to get caught up in that, but her feelings were all over the place, her heart was beating too fast and the ache in her chest did not seem to cease. 

"You lied to me," she murmured, trying to make her voice not break. 

"Did I?" 

"You did!"

"Ah…" he scoffed, drinking from his tea as if she was not falling apart in front of him. "When did I lie to you, darling?" 

"You are fucking a whore, Maegor," she mumbled, wiping a rebel tear as she looked to the floor. A small tsk was heard from his side.

"Well, that's the thing, little one." He stood up, and he slowly started to approach her. "I do not remember telling you I'd stopped fucking whores. It is not a lie if I never said it, is it? You just assumed it." 

There was a silence where Maegor reached for her face, cupping her cheek with his hand as his thumb wiped the tears away. It was a gesture so delicate and soft that it almost made her sigh; her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. It brought some calmness to the turmoil of feelings inside her chest. His softness, that was hardly ever shown, made her almost melt into his touch once again, but then his own voice made her wake up from the trance he had put her in.

"Who told you?" 

That mere question brought her back to reality. She thought about how many people knew about it for him to ask such thing. She thought about how ridiculous she must have been seen by the servants that already knew about it, for she would never hide her undying loyalty and devotion to him. 

She pushed his hand away from her, taking a step back as the anger consumed her once again.

"No one did!" she replied, raising her voice. "You really think I was never going to find out about this?" 

"My sweet doe," he softly spoke, trying to calm her down. "You need to understand that a man has needs-"

"I'm the one who should be satisfying your needs!" She yelled. "I'll be your wife, I will marry you, not her!" She spat the last words with utter disgust.

He took a deep breath, slowly starting to lose his patience. 

"I know that very well," he whispered, taking a step closer. "But there are different kinds of pleasure that you cannot provide me with. You know that." 

"I do not care!" She yelled again, this time pushing him away. Maegor was taken by surprise, and he almost lost his balance. Pure shock on his eyes as he saw her unexpected outburst. "I can be all that for you if you only give me the chance!" She whined. "I'm right here, uncle! I'm yours, and I will always be yours. Why can you not understand?!"

His anger was immediately shown as he unexpectedly wrapped his hand around her jaw, digging his fingers into her flesh - strong enough to make her stay still. Her eyes widened in surprise, a slight panic running through her eyes as she saw the rage written all over his face. She whined, now out of pain. 

"You cannot understand simple things, can you?" He muttered so close to her face that she was able to feel his hot breath against her lips. "Is your brain so small that it cannot comprehend anything? You think I haven't fucked you because I do not wish for it?" He scoffed. "Oh, you silly little thing. I could spread your legs and bury my cock on that needy cunt of yours right here if that is what I want, but I won't; because I'm smart, and I'm patient, you know why? Because I could easily fuck a bastard into you." Those last words were spat with rage, the kind of feeling he had never felt with her up to this point.

He was wondering how she could not understand what he had been explaining to her for months. Her obliviousness to certain things made him furious.

"Is that what you want?" He continued, tightening his grip. "A bastard is a weapon against maidens as you, something they can use to steal your rightful position in the throne, is that what you want? People calling you the whore princess because you opened your legs to someone who's not your husband? Don't act stupid, I know you are more clever than that."

He let her go, and she stumbled backwards as she touched her jaw trying to soothe the tingling pain that was left there. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as he stared at her teary eyes. Maegor then approached her again, two of his fingers lifting her chin forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me, my love," his tone changed, returning to be the soft and gentle one he would always use with her. "You want to feel me inside that tight cunny of yours? You want me to breed you until your womb is filled with my seed? That is fine, and you'll have all of that…" he made a pause, appreciating the red on her cheeks produced by his words. "But for that you'll have to wait until we marry. Is that clear for you?"

She nodded, reluctantly.

"Answer me," he demanded. 

"Yes…" she replied in a thin voice, and he smiled pleasantly.

"That's a good girl," he muttered before he leaned and left a soft kiss on her forehead. A chill ran down her back, a sense of uneasiness settled in her chest. She remembered Draqos giving her the same gesture, and causing the complete opposite emotion. "Now… this is the last time I will bear one of these tantrums, do you hear me? I will not forgive you again."

She was about to answer, but the door was suddenly open and Draqos walked in. He noticed the marks on her jawline, he saw the tears in her eyes and the way she looked away from him, avoiding any eye contact. He clenched his jaw as he bowed in front of them, wanting nothing to scream at Maegor for hurting such a delicate maiden like her.

He hid his rage towards the prince as a serious semblance was drawn in his face, clearing his throat before he made his announcement.

"Prince, Princess… The Dowager Queen is here," he informed. 

Aenelys looked up at Maegor, trying to find the same surprise on his face, but he remained nonchalant to the words of the knight, almost as if he was expecting his mother to arrive. 

Before Aenelys could express her confusion, Visenya entered the dining room, dressed with her riding attire and wearing an unreadable expression on her stern visage. The princess noticed how her eyes scanned her body, her expression slightly changing when she noticed the marks on her neck, but returning to be a hard look when she paid further attention to the marks that were left by her son's tight grip.

"Mother," Maegor greeted her, bowing before her and grabbing her hand to kiss the back of it. "What brings you here?"

"I'm afraid I've come all this way to inform you both of something not very pleasant," she started, her voice low and almost lacking any emotion. Visenya turned to look at Aenelys and she sighed as she grabbed her hands; it was at that moment that the princess felt her heart skip a beat. "Is your father, princess," Visenya sighed.

"My father?" She asked with slight confusion. 

Visenya looked at her son before looking back at the girl in front of her.

 "The King unexpectedly died last night in Dragonstone."

She felt the tears clouding her eyes, her nose itching and that agonizing feeling on her chest. She covered her lips with her hand as a sign of shock and disbelief, feeling as if the world had fallen on her shoulders and the weight of guilt was pressing against her chest, causing her to breathe rapidly and unevenly. Aenelys looked at Maegor, whose face was lacking any surprise - she was too shocked to recognize the mischievous glint on his devilish eyes. 

"How… How did it happen?" she managed to speak between deep breaths and sobs. 

"The war weakened him," she explained. Aenelys was taken aback by this new information. 

Information that Maegor already knew and decided to hide from her.

"What war?" Aenelys asked again.

"The war with the Faith Militant," she explained, "The High Septon took your disappearance as an offense, for his niece is Maegor's legitimate wife. People in King's Landing are accusing your father of promoting this relationship between you both, and they raised against his reign." 

Her dress suddenly felt tighter, the difficulty to breath making her gasp as the tears fell down her cheeks. Her eyes looked at Draqos, the despair and desperation was clearly visible in her face. He took a step forward, but Maegor grabbed her first. The princess buried her face on his chest while his hand went to her hair, cooing against her ear while she uncontrollably sobbed, soaking his shirt with her tears. 

Suddenly, the entire discussion with Maegor was easily forgotten, for the pain in her heart was bigger and almost unbearable. The guilt making it impossible for her to calm down.

"Your mother and siblings are waiting for you in Dragonstone for the funeral," Visenya informed her, "King's Landing and the Iron Throne are now empty…" 

Aenelys thought it was quite odd the way she pronounced those kasts words, but her mind was too blurry to even try to process them. Maegor, however, found himself understanding the message between the lines, and he held her close to his chest and gave a soft nod to his mother. Things had never been clearer.

It was time for him to take what was rightfully his, claim his position as King of the Seven Kingdoms, and make Aenelys his queen.

Everything went exactly how he wanted.

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With Good Intentions (Chapter Three) ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two) Masterlist A03

➥pairings: MC & Everyone, MC/Everyone ➥content warnings: Not Beta Read, We Cook Our Stories Like Solomon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Some Humor, Explicit Language, Not Canon Compliant, Though Sometimes It Is, Fighting, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Emotional Manipulation, Reader-Insert, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lesson 016 Spoilers, Post Lesson 016, Other Additional Tags To Be Added. ➥summary: after the events of chapter 16, MC learns three important lessons: one, that Diavolo is an asshole. Two, as it turns out, being immortal doesn't make you smarter, wiser, or mature, it just gives you a thousand more chances to be a fuck up and not learn and damn thing from it. And three, that there are no therapists in hell. Though they could really all use one. Or in which MC suffers an existential breakdown and Diavolo and the brothers learn that maybe throwing a party wasn't the best response to someone dying. ➥A/N: hello everyone, it's good to see you again. I hope everyone is doing well and whether you're a return reader or just getting started, thank you for your interest in my story. Work has been kicking my ass, but still we persevere! Anyway, until next time, take care and enjoy this very long chapter.

He could tell his brothers grew tired of it. That whenever the topic of their sister was brought up, Belphegor always felt an underlining exasperation, as if they’d all been over the subject for some time and were only waiting for him to do the same, as if she were nothing more than a ghost who’d overstayed her welcome in the rebuilding of their lives.

Or maybe they were just tired of him. Tired of his whining about her. Tired of his disgust for Diavolo’s ideals. Tired of his hatred of all things human. He barely smiled, barely ate, and slept for most of the day. He wasn’t the “sweet, innocent Belphie” they knew and loved. The one who found wonder in everything around him and whose laugh, though rare now, lit entire rooms. No, something within Belphegor was broken and they’d have to accept that it would never be whole again. Not without Lilith.

But who said death was pleasant? That it was something one should simply get over? Loss never leaves one gentle. It doesn’t decide to remove itself after a month, a year, or centuries after. It stays with you, becoming part of you. Some days it gives you the illusion of respite and on those days you go through life barely noticing the quiet, emptiness of it all.

Yet on other days, it breaks you, leaves you shaking and crying, wishing for your thoughts to cease so you can finally be “normal” again. Grief, also like loss, never comes when the moment is decent, does not give you warning. Grief strikes when it chooses to, replaying the moment of your loss ad nauseam, until the whole of you becomes nothing but a shell of memories, wading away to the tides of time.

Most days Belphegor remembered Lilith. Sometimes it seemed he was the only one who did. He remembered her in lunchrooms when the desserts were particularly sweet. He remembered her in corridors, the kind they’d both raced down as fast as they could. He remembered her in dreams, luring him into the forests they used to play in, with trees as high as the sky and where the wind swept through and made waves of shimmering sunshine. In the distance would be Lilith, the years waning upon her memory, yet she waved as she always did, an insult to every petal, every ray of sun. He would run to her, feel the tears wetting his cheeks, his tongue tripping over her name over and over again: Lilith. Lilith. I’m here. Please.

He remembered blood. Too much of it. The kind that no matter how much you scrubbed yourself raw, the stench would remain clung to you like death. The fall was not a pleasant one; they did not streak across the skies like beautiful jewels, they were burning, dying. The landing nearly killed them, sent the earth running each and which way in disgust of them.

How through it all even the Father, no matter how hard they prayed, was always silent. Maybe he too, saw what was to become of them, and closed his heart and ears to it. It was easier, at least for Belphegor, to believe that he’d simply abandoned them, rather than knowingly allow the pain that would scar them for centuries to come.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The Celestial Realm had no seasons, but on days when the light was mild and winds smooth for flight, Belphegor and Lilith would sneak amongst the forests, finding shelter under the tall, dense trees. For Raphael, who’d come to search for them in time, the siblings were abandoning their duties, but for Belphegor and Lilith, it was simply a break, albeit a long one.

“Oh, Belphie, he’s simply divine."

Divine. An odd choice of words for a mortal, yet Lilith thought otherwise, not that Belphegor knew enough to object. After all, he’d just learned of the man’s existence a few moons ago, and what he knew was only through her words of him. He wasn’t rich by any means. His family tended animals and sold what they could in the town market. There was a time when the family lived well, but some of the animals were stricken with disease or killed by wolves, and they suffered greatly for it. Even so, this man had “a spirit worth more than all the wealth in the world,” she exclaimed. That despite his awful predicament, he made a way for his family, taking on various forms of labor to keep them fed.

"He's very skilled with his hands." Lilith winked, to which Belphegor pretended to gag. Relations between humans and angels were not unheard of, but ones with the image of his sister he'd rather scrub from memory.

In any case, this man could "literally do anything" and Belphegor sat in awe of this. If all this were true, then Lilith found someone beyond any human he could think of.

Belphegor watched as she twirled about, nearly skipping in her joy, her long hair unfretted and chasing the wind. She was led by a tune only she could hear, her dress gathering at the thick of her sun-kissed legs.

“He’s so polite, a true gentleman,” said Lilith. “He picks me flowers, opens doors, and by Father is he handsome.” She sighed lovingly and clasped her hands against her flushing cheeks. “He could give Lucifer a run for his money, you know?

Belphegor snorted. "A man as beautiful as Lucifer is surely a sight to behold."

"It's true, you know," she said, ignoring his skepticism. "That and he’s strong. Can tend a whole field before sundown without breaking a sweat. Why, I saw him raise two goats on each shoulder and…”

Belphegor rolled his eyes. Though he had no reason to doubt her, his sister found ways to bolster the human past the point of believability, at times. Extravagant. Amazing. Beguiling. Was it even possible that so many adjectives could describe one person? Yet Lilith went on, singing the praises of this fabled man she’d found such importance in.

“He’s just so…so…you understand, don’t you Belphie? How interesting and unique they can be?”

He did. Belphegor loved humans. He found them special, more than most creatures. It was their mundane everyday ways. It was the way they sought purpose from them. It was how they loved and celebrated and burned away life until none was left. Compared to angels, who were created and bound to fates unchanging, mortals were born with the blessing of choice, and it fascinated Belphegor what they did with it. So he watched and soon enough, went to gather in their joy. However, it wasn’t long until his curiosity prompted Lilith’s own, and the young angel began to visit the human realm of her own volition.

While Belphegor didn't fully understand his sister’s ways, he couldn’t help but be drawn into her joy. She’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow, trapped in an endless spring. It’d been beautiful to witness, and while such things didn’t strike him as important before, Belphegor couldn’t help but think of his love, whenever or wherever that might be.

“Belphie, are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm?” He said, led from his thoughts. “What was that?”

“I said Lucifer plans to meet him.”

Belphegor shrugged. “Well, so much for that.”

“I’m serious, Belphie!” She stamped her foot, pouting. “You know how big brother is.”

“Maybe he’ll like him,” Belphegor assured, swallowing his lie. Lucifer wasn’t the best at being impartial, especially when it came to Lilith. She was the youngest, barely new to the world, and he’d sooner have her wrapped up and tucked away than allow any harm to come to her. This man she’d found, without his or any of her sibling's knowledge, was an anomaly, a blind spot in Lucifer’s ever-watchful eye.

“Honestly, he’s always so worried. I told him there was no need, but he insisted.” Lilith’s face fell, eyes widening to some unfounded fate. “What if he doesn’t like him? What if he forbids me from seeing him? Tries to lock me away, key and all? Then what am I to do? I’d have to change my name, hide amongst the humans. We’d be outlaws. Fugitives!"

“Lilly!” Belphegor laughed. She always had a flare for the dramatics. “It’s ok. Lucifer is strict, but I’m sure he’ll come to see him as you do.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I’m sure of it…probably.”

“Oh, you!” she swatted at the air between them. “But you know, maybe you’re right. After all, Lucifer would never do anything to upset me, considering I’m his favorite and all,” she said in a snobbish tone. Lucifer spoiled her. They all spoiled her, really, and it seemed to be rubbing off.

But there was one question Belphegor failed to ask. The most important of them all. “Does he have a name?”

Lilith smiled. “Of course he does, silly. H̵̸̷̶̸̨̡̘̯͇̾̀͋̓̍i̶̴̷̶̷̥̠̬̖͖̋͐̄̎͆s̵̶̷̵̵̢͈̟͕̝̊̌̅̾͒ ̷̵̶̸̵̱͕̦͕͕͑̓̀̍͠n̴̸̸̴̶͈͍͍̯̳̎͛͂̄̏à̵̷̷̷̴͚̟͈̲̃̑̍̾͜m̷̵̵̶̷͉̗̜̗̻̓̀̽̀͝e̴̶̸̷̵͔̻̜̳̣̽̃̋͑͠ ̴̷̵̶̸̧̰̲͙̺̀̃̐͗͑i̶̷̴̷̴͎̪̳̫̬̔́͐̈́͝ş̵̴̴̶̵̠͕̰͕͗̅̅͋̕…̴̷̸̶̵̯͚̲̯̺͐͌̑̔͠

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“Lucifer! Please, tell them. Tell them they can’t do this!”

Belphegor turned to his brother, who looked as if the world was ending and there was no way to prevent it.

The Father spoke through Michael: Lilith had committed the unpardonable sin, one in which there was no forgiveness. She would be wiped from the face of existence, never to be a part of the cycle of creation again. All this for stealing a fruit, though it was said a simple apple led to Eve’s downfall; what difference would there be for his sister?

Belphegor dug his nails into his palms, neck burning with heat. The Father had refused them council, choosing to lay His judgment through the only other angel he abused more than Lucifer. Did He truly not care for them? Was fighting His battles and upholding His will all they were good for?

“The Father’s word is final,” Michael’s voice was calm, yet short. “Lucifer knows this as well as I do.”

“So you expect us to stand aside and allow our sister to face a fate so cruel?”

“Belphie, please,” Lilith cried, shaking. “It does not matter my end—“

“—But it does matter. You matter.” Belphegor pointed at her with angered assertion. “Not some mortal who was fated to die sooner than you are to blink.”

“Our brother is right, Lilith.” Leviathan shook his head as if trying to unravel what was happening. “Your actions…they make no sense.”

“No,” Lilith spoke, “what makes no sense is a Father who would sit and watch while death and sickness run rampant throughout his creation while having the power to prevent it.”

“How dare she’s” and “heresies” spiraled into the air, forming a tornado of indignation that grew louder and more violent with the need for retribution. Belphegor sneered at the angels who formed a ring of judgment around his sister. It was hard to believe that at one time any of them could be called his brothers and sisters.

“Enough.” It was Raphael, who, unlike Michael, held little reservations in his approach to an otherwise dire situation. “You stand amongst the divine court. Your blasphemy will not be tolerated.”

“Ah, can it,” yelled out Mammon. Someone gasped from the crowd. “You threaten the life of our sister. You better believe we’re gonna cause more than just a ruckus.”

Belphegor looked to Lilith, his eyes imploring her, though there was no answer she could give that would make any sense to him. “Even if he didn’t die today,” he said, “he would’ve died regardless. What then? Why risk your eternity for something so finite?”

Lilith parted her lips as if to form some half-uttered verb. Then she began again, though her mouth did not quiver. She stilled her face, hardened her lips, and spoke her words simply, “For the life of the one I love, I would do anything.”

Belphegor winced, his sister’s words a slap in the face. He would be angry if only there wasn’t so much to go around. What about their love? As if theirs hadn’t outlived kingdoms for her. What love could a being of such little potential possibly give?

It was Beelzebub’s turn to speak, pain shaking his voice. “But…what about us? How could you be so willing to leave us here to grieve you?”

Lilith was quiet, her face turned to some far, distant place. Belphegor wanted to shake her, to wake her from this eternal dream of love that did nothing but harm her.

“There has to be something we can do,” Asmodeus spoke, looking desperately at Michael. “It can’t end like this.”

“And just what do you plan to do to avoid her judgment?” Raphael’s eyebrow rose with his question. “Are any of you willing to take her place?”

They all looked at each other. Not in fear of Raphael’s words, but because neither of them could see themselves as the Father’s children, the remains of their allegiance shattered and pooled in the pit of their stomachs. In the end, what they gained for their loyalty was death, but they would not go without a fight. Finally, Lucifer stepped forward. It was clear to Belphegor that something inside his brother shattered, too. Not broken, but free.

“If the father’s word is law,” he said, “then maybe such laws should be challenged.”

“Be mindful of your next words, brother.” Michael stood with all the caution of a vigilant lion. “Think of the lives of your siblings. Of what you’re sacrificing.”

Lucifer stood, clearly battling himself. Belphegor only wished to know what his brother and Michael were thinking then. Both were close, so much so that they could be mistaken for twins. Maybe they both wanted to see something in the other that was no longer there. By then, Belphegor and his brothers gathered beside the morning star, unwavering. It was clear where their loyalties lay and always would.

As if in understanding, Michael sighed, and drew his blade as if the entire issue were a mere inconvenience. “Don’t make us do this, Lucifer.” Raphael, however, had already summoned his spears.

“You all still have the chance to repent in front of the Father. This will not go without punishment, however.”

“And Lilith?” Asmodeus said, his voice almost hopeful.

“She will leave this plane in peace.”

The once favored son of morning yanked his blade from his sheath and with it t̸̵̵̵̵͙̼̫̗̥̉́̇̈́̈́h̸̶̸̴̴͚͖̥̗̖̊̾̄̒̕e̶̶̸̸̸̻͈͍̗̱͒̆͊̋̒ ̸̵̶̵̵̜̥̭͎̝̑̓̓̀̾h̷̸̶̴̸͓̠͙̹̤͌̄̈́̂̚ḙ̷̸̷̷̸̢̯͖̄̂͂̾̾͜ȧ̴̶̷̴̷̩̯͓̤͋̄͊̍͜v̶̷̸̶̷̧͙̺͇͔̓̇̽̆̔e̴̴̸̴̶̢̖͍̰̫͊̍̔̉̉ņ̶̶̷̴̵̻̣̹͗͊̉͆̎ͅs̴̵̴̵̴̝̻͚̟̖̆́̇̇͠ ̶̸̵̸̶̨̩̞̗̖͒̊̀́̓c̸̴̶̶̶̬̼͎̱͔̈́̏̑͂̑r̶̷̷̴̵̯͚̫͕̳̓̽͂͐͝ĩ̶̶̸̶̷̺̙̠̰͖̏́͆͘e̸̴̸̵̷̹̰͉̫̠̓͌̆̃͂d̸̴̶̶̵̨̻͉̮͕́̈́̈̽̈́.̷̷̵̸̴͓̱̲̘͖̑̓͒̾̕ ̴̸̸̷̴̙̬͉̱͗̉͂̀͂ͅ

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not once had Belphegor known the smell of blood until that day. It ranked of rusted metal, and it took all within him not to vomit in the middle of battle. An angel he once played with amongst the lilacs of the Celestial Garden fell limp, a sword thrust through his chest. Mammon had done so without hesitation and proceeded to chop the head of another, his strokes quick like thunder strikes.

A scream, this time from his right. It was Beel caked in a thick carnage of blood and feathers. He’d torn through their attempt at a flank, their weapons barely grazing him as he ripped wings from flesh, bodies spiraling towards the earth.

“Look out!” Asmodeus yelled, his shield snapping against metal. Belphegor leaped to the side, a beam of light zipping downward where his body would’ve been, leaving a hole of ozone in its wake. Belphegor raised his bow in return, his arm unsteady. Shakily, he aimed, barely managing to wound the angel who’d gunned for his head.

The realm was drowned in chaos. A frenzy of limbs and wings dancing to the tune of annihilation. He’d only seen Lucifer once, his body burning white as he bathed the battlefield with righteous fury, sending angel after angel toward their doom. Belphegor had only heard stories of Leviathan’s skills in battle; it was another thing to see him flay a throne alive.

“Lilith,” he heard Mammon cry.

“I’m ok,” she called back. A twang of metal after. “Just focus on yourself.”

So many voices, Belphegor thought. It was hard to keep his bearings. He was nowhere near a child of war. He’d never honed a weapon or raised it against another. His purpose was that of a virtue, to spread the word that with faith and hard work, one would gain ever closer to what was promised. But his life had been so easily tossed aside, his diligence made nothing. And now that one was threatened and the other gone, what then would become of him? Of his brothers? For a moment, he stilled, unable to focus on the battle at hand. It was as if all the air had left him, his breaths jagged and choking.

“Belphie!” Beelzebub’s voice rumbled. Belphegor squinted his eyes toward the sky. It was hard to make them out at first, little glints of sunshine that they were, yet as they drew closer, Belphegor saw the sharpened hatred of a thousand arrows bearing down towards him. He turned.

“Lilith,” Belphegor wailed. She’d been near him, maybe trying to call out to him, for that he’d never know. By then the first arrow struck her wing, then another, piercing through her flesh as her body flailed unnaturally. Beelzebub leaped towards him, tucking him deep into his grasp as they fell downward.

From above them rang a cry so loud that it shattered the noise. Lucifer broke through the sky like a roaring flame, barreling downward towards his sister. It was then Mammon who fell after him, then Leviathan, then finally, Asmodeus. Belphegor’s ears filled with a humming static, the world becoming focused and pin-like. He willed his head to gaze at Lilith. She hurdled downward, specks of ash trailing the air as her wings caught flame. With arm outstretched, he reached for her, ţ̴̶̸̷̶̨̛̠̖̤̈́̔̋̌ḫ̸̷̶̴̵̬͉̞̗͑͋̈́̅͝e̵̶̵̷̷̼̮̝̿̀͑̓͗͜͜ ̶̶̶̶̴͓̘͓͎̼̾̋͒̏͝w̸̸̴̷̵̨͈̼̯̞̉̆͆̒̌ơ̶̵̸̷̶͖̠̬͈̻̈́̓̎̽r̴̸̸̴̵͕̘͚̬̩̾̍̑͒̕l̷̵̷̶̸͕̱̜̯̙̑̈̂̎͠d̵̴̶̶̷̡̰̼͇̊̑́̒̾͜ ̵̸̶̷̸̳͙̭̱̂̍͋̓͘͜f̵̶̶̸̷̙̪̘̟̙̊̽͂̾̕ǎ̵̴̸̴̶̪̰̣̳̫̌̓͛̚d̸̶̸̴̴̻̪̘͇̻̒̅͆̀͛ḯ̷̶̴̴̵͙͇̞��̜̽̈́͆̔n̶̶̴̵̶͇̲̭̰̻̍̾̑͂͘ǧ̷̶̷̶̶̡̺̪̻̦̃̃͌͝ ̶̵̶̶̴͇̗̠͉̣̍̀̆̂̐

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

“What?”

"̸͓͛W̴̻̒ẖ̵͝a̴̖̓t̴͔͝?̸̢̓"̵̢̒ 

“Come again?”

“I said have you calmed down yet?”

Calmed down. As if he were a child who’d thrown a tantrum and was placed in time-out.

“What do you mean?” Belphegor gazed at Lucifer through hair-draped eyes, annoyed at being interrupted by what would’ve been a critical moment of his performance. He’d begun talking to himself. Wasn’t sure when it started, yet if only to break the monotony of his current tenure. In his mind, Belphegor was the sole performer on a brightly lit stage. In front of him, his audience, cheering for his one-night, one-man show.

Ladies and Gentlemen, he’d say, on behalf of the entire circus troupe, I welcome you to one of the most astounding shows you will ever see! I promise you, it will be something truly special, like a wonderful, fleeting vision—“

“--Belphie?” Lucifer called to him.

Oh, right. This asshole. “What?”

“What is it with you in needing things repeated?” Lucifer said. “I told you to use your time in here to calm down and rethink what you said earlier.”

Belphegor spat, rolling his eyes to some corner of the room. If one were to ask his brother, locking Belphegor away was done for his protection. That it was love, not pride or sick devotion, which forced his hand that day. If not by Lucifer, then Diavolo, and if the rumors regarding the castle’s torture dungeon were true, therein lied the many ways of subjecting the seventh born to a fate worse than boredom. If anything, he should be grateful that the only current threat to his health was the admitted lack of ventilation and an idle mind.

Yet if one were to ask Belphegor, he would’ve gladly accepted torture just to spite him, the unyielding screams of the forsaken a welcomed company compared to the horrid solitude of being trapped in a fucking attic.

“In that case, I’m going to be stuck in here forever,” Belphegor said. “Because there’s no way I’m ever going to take back what I said. No way am I ever going to change my mind.”

He was adamant then, on his hatred of humans. The day he learned of Lilith’s death, from Diavolo of all people, was the day any ounce of empathy he had died with him. Once again, the prince would prove to be a never-ending red stain on his sister’s life. Even after death, he found ways to dishonor her memory, if not through the subjugation of his brothers, then through the announcement of his shitty exchange program, one that Belphegor vehemently denounced. Yet Lucifer, being the boot licker he was, had other plans. It was hard to tell how many days passed since then, let alone how long Lucifer planned to keep him here.

Lucifer sighed and gazed over at the canopied bed. Belphegor had found a few Christmas ornaments packed amongst the attic’s boxes--a nutcracker, a gingerbread man, and a tiny reindeer--to act as his makeshift audience. In noticing Lucifer’s quizzical look, Belphegor hissed, literally hissed, at him in embarrassment.

“Oh, calm yourself,” Lucifer said, stifling his amusement with a cough, remembering that the moment was supposed to be serious. Hell forbid it was anything less. “Regardless, we’ve gone ahead and chosen the second student from the human world.”

“Really…Well, that’s awful news,” Belphegor said, stomping over to his bed and smothering his audience with gathered sheets, his skin heated.

“This time it’s not a powerful, elite sorcerer like Solomon, but a regular, average human.” “And why are you telling me this? I’m not interested in hearing about any hu…”

Belphegor’s smile was wide. “Actually, wait. Maybe that’s not true. Bring that human to me right away, Lucifer. I’ll tear them to shreds so tiny that there won’t be anything left of the body or soul when I’m done.”

Maybe being tucked away inside that large castle of his made the prince a bit dull-minded. Solomon was deemed one of the most powerful magic users in the world, one who—without even raising a hand—could turn even the strongest demon to ash.

But a regular human with no power and no way to defend themselves? It was as if the universe simply hated this human, one that would surely shit themselves after being summoned out of thin air to a realm, as far as they knew, should not exist and amongst beings that only lived amongst the pages of their various religions and stories. It was a tragedy waiting to happen and one Belphegor, with quivering hands, planned to bring forward.

“If this precious student from the human world were to meet an end like that,” Belphegor went on, “it would bring this little exchange program to a screeching halt, wouldn’t it? And what’s more, there’s no telling what it might do to Diavolo’s reputation.”

Lucifer observed him with a sort of veiled heatedness. It was clear his tantrum held little weight, but would end it if needed.

“Oh, I know. If you refuse to bring that human to me, then I’ll call them here myself,” Belphegor clasped his hands together, pleased with his plan. “I may not be able to get out of here, but I can certainly lure a single human half-wit to me without much trouble.”

“Impossible,” Lucifer spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And why’s that?” Belphegor raised his brow, his unease growing.

“The door to this room can only be seen by demons. It’s invisible to humans. Also, I put a curse on the stairs leading up here so that no demon other than me can climb them. No one will ever find you, and no one will ever know you’re here, be they human, or demon, or any other creature.”

Of course. Leave it to Mr. Kill Joy to take the fun out of homicide.

Belphegor’s face slumped, sucking his teeth. “You’ve taken quite the precautions, haven’t you? I’m touched that you’d go to such lengths for me, your good for nothing brother.” Lucifer was taller, about a few inches so, but Belphegor met his gaze all the same. “What exactly are you so afraid of Lucifer?”

“I’m afraid of losing my brother,” Lucifer said, quickly and without a hint of dishonesty.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Belphegor said. He wouldn’t allow it. To feel sympathy for the devil. Not after losing what mattered most, and what may’ve been his only chance to correct it. He needed to be the one hurting in this situation and needed Lucifer to be as one-dimensional as possible. “What scares you is the thought of disappointing Diavolo, isn’t it?”

Lucifer was…silent. For what, Belphegor wasn’t sure. Was the answer truly that complicated? Maybe there wasn’t anything more to his brother. Maybe he had become nothing more than a loyal lap dog.

Belphegor pounded his foot against the attic’s ancient floorboards, them rattling as if to collapse. “Say something Lucifer,” he yelled. “The old Lucifer wasn’t like this. He wasn’t afraid of what someone else thought of him. He wasn’t pathetic like that.”

“You’re free to think whatever you want, Belphegor. Also…” Lucifer turned towards the attic door, his voice low and solemn, “I’d say you changed as well.”

“Lucifer!” Yet Lucifer would never turn. Never question any part of himself that held weakness.

As the bars to the attic room clanked shut, Belphegor heard his brother’s footsteps trek down the towering staircase and into the house. Once again, he was left alone, spiraling into the silence of the attic.

He wouldn’t mind being tortured at all. Not at the glint of the blade as it sliced his flesh. Not at the blood that pooled from his wounds. Not even as his limbs were torn from his body or flayed alive. The rush of pain and paranoia would keep him, startlingly, sound. At least then he could see what harmed him. Give it a name, his fury. Tell himself that logically, it was ok to cry, scream, and lash about as he was now, smashing mirrors and ripping pillows to shreds.

But in this attic, this fucking horrible attic, there was no one to blame, and it left Belphegor with only his thoughts, screaming over and over: It’s your fault. It’s always been

your fault

YOUR FAULT

It’s always been

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Not my fault. It’s not my fault!

It was a lie, of course. Your death was in motion the moment you appeared in front of him, doe-eyed and disturbingly lax for someone in your position. For all Lucifer’s scheming, he’d forgotten one fine detail: that idleness didn’t weaken sloth, but enabled it.

But it is, Belphie. It's what you did.

He didn't think you were dumb enough to believe his story. A human "just like you" who'd been captured and trapped by Lucifer, yet you proved otherwise. Even when his true identity was revealed, you continued to help him as if the threat hadn't shown itself. Things were moving about too easily; the universe truly did hate you.

No that's not...I did it for you. For us.

Admittedly, he'd wrestled in the corners of his mind about it. Argued until there was nothing left to argue. A part of him had grown to like you, strange, dull-headed thing that you were, but if he weren't to kill you, what then? Would he live his life, seeing you coddle up to his brothers? Eat from their plates and take part in their celebrations? Would you somehow charm Diavolo and have the rest of your ilk invade here? Hell forbid the fools began to fall in love with you, then he’d have to bear witness to some half-assed love story, and that he couldn't live with. So he stilled it down. Beat back the part of him that doubted his conviction. This was for Lilith, always for Lilith, and nothing more.

Oh Belphie, you knew I never wanted this. This was always about you. This was your revenge.

How he killed you was deliberate, too. Strangulation was one of the more intimate forms of death one could give. To do so was to be conscious of your victim’s suffering and to take pleasure in it, having the power of life and death weighted within one’s grip. Humans were fragile. Anything more than disembowelment would be too quick and he needed you to feel it. To know how little your life meant as he wrung every inch of it from you.

Please, I'm sorry. I didn’t know. Didn’t know what they were to you.

He admits enjoying it, laughing as the confusion mangled your face. It didn’t take much to knock you on your back, even less to pin you down. You were so weak. How you managed to survive this long was merely incompetence on his brother’s part. They were fools, too cowardly to do what needed to be done. But not him. He’d end your life and soon any hope of continuing this miserable sham of a program.

It’s not about what they were to me, Belphie. You took a life. And you can never take that back.

You withered and flailed beneath him, trying to lift yourself to no avail. A numbing high swept over Belphegor as he took it all in. The beating of your heart, the sound of wheezing lungs, the sweat that drenched your brow, the bright red of your blood. All the colors and sounds bled into a final point until he was overcome with it, twisting, clenching, enamored in the hues of your dying face. Your eyes bulged and the quakes of your death throes rumbled the floorboards. You clung to him, nails scraping the skin of his wrists. When that didn’t work, you clawed for his eyes. The desperation. The fury. He could laugh, so he does, slamming your head into the floor when you attempt to swipe at his face. Your head bounces forward, then goes limp, throat giving way to a sick crunch. He squeezes tighter, breaking through bone, through artery.

Finally, you stilled and so does he.

He assumed your death would be less monotonous, the fires of euphoria dwindling into barely an ember. A cold realization sweeps over him, sending his body to chill and his empathy to reanimate. No, he won't allow weakness. Not a moment for remorse or sorrow. He shakes them from his mind, putting it up to shock and nothing more.

He gazed at his hands, flexing them, feeling like an outsider in his own body. He sits in silence. The attic does not answer with its usual hum of wood. The house does not creak. Instead, it engulfs him in a sea of quiet, and for a moment he wades in it. Hearing his heart, his breathing, the tiny hiss of air that escapes you. For some reason, he cannot will himself to look at you longer. Your face is uncannily calm, though your neck is twisted into unrecognition, the flesh bruised and mangled.

Now, there was nothing left, but still so much to be done. He wrings you by the collar of your shirt, and it seems an eternity before he reaches the attic door. The attic steps feel smaller and out of focus, the house halls a labyrinth. He’d almost forgotten where the main entrance lay until he heard his brothers, their voices joined in a chorus of "where are they?" and "They should be" and "could be." It's the only time he smiles. Not for his brothers, though it was Beel he missed most, but because he finally, finally would have his audience.

Slowly, as he reaches the landing of the stairway, a thought inches forward. Yet this one he couldn’t shake away. Over and over it repeats itself, almost pleading:

Oh, Belphie.

Belphie.

J̸̸̷̷̴͔̪̗̱̊͑͋̈̚͜ J̸̗͑u̸̼̎s̴̬̔t̴̗͌ ̵̅͜w̵̪͘h̸̥̀a̶̮̓t̵͕̅ ̷̱͊h̸̼͝a̴̛̪v̶͕͆e̷̫̍ ̵̩̈́y̶̲͝o̶̫̕u̷̞̍ ̷͉͌d̵̦̐ọ̸́n̸̪̽e̷̫̓?̸̡́

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Belphegor lurched forward, sweat chilling him to the bone. His dreams were becoming too vivid for his liking. In the corner of his eye sat a large figure, blanketed in the cover of darkness. He blinked. Was he still dreaming?

“What...I...Beel?” He spoke, gasping for breath. How long had he been sitting there?

“It's ok,” Beelzebub said. He sat on the edge of Belphegor’s bed, stroking his shoulder as if to still the chills away. “You had a bad dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Belphegor choked, words rushing from his mouth,” I did it I did all of it I killed Lilith and then I killed them and I…I…“

“Just breathe, Belphie.” But there was nothing Beelzebub could say or do, only wait until the torturous spell was over.

Belphegor placed his hand to his chest, heart beating as if it were going to burst from him and go running off into the world.

In and out. In and out. It didn't help his breathing much, but it made him focus on something other than the panic. Everything felt so heavy like the sky had fallen upon his shoulders.

"It's all...my fault," Belphegor heaved, “my fault.”

In a way, he should be grateful. Lilith lived a long, happy life and that’s all he could ask for. Still, it all felt like a dream and in that moment, he’d forgotten where he was. That the Devildom, despite its idiosyncrasies, was a punishment. That they were damned and whatever fate held for them was often cruel and rarely giving. He knew they were uncomfortable at the party, could feel their quickened breaths rising in an off-tune chorus of sheltered panic. He should’ve helped them, walked them through their spell. Instead, he froze, feeling the judgment heavy in the room, the waves of anger and disappointment hitting him in a heated haze. He watched you run away and with it, his redemption.

“That’s not true, Belphie. Don't blame yourself. If anything...” Beelzebub paused, and Belphegor listened between breaths for the words that never came.

He was about to blame himself again, he thought, yet he could not will himself to assure him otherwise, his breaths still too quick and sharp. Instead, Belphegor buried himself into his twin. If he could not use words, he’d use his actions. Surely Beel, who wrapped his brother in a tight hug, would understand him. Beelzebub, after all, was but a wall to Belphegor’s emotions. Allowing his tears and agony to fall upon him, but never breaking himself. Instead, Beelzebub sat in silence, and together, they rocked each other through the darkness, waiting on the morning hours to break the curse that was Belphegor’s anguish.

Surely, you’d forgive him, he thought. That night at the party meant nothing. That disgusted look you gave him meant nothing.  

[cienie-isengardu]

After digging deeper into Mortal Kombat 1: Khaos Reigns and how everyone was portrayed there, I wish NRS went with the original mention of Cyrax as absolutely loyal to Bi-Han. The NRS’ storyline choices would still be frustrating in regard to the brotherhood of Kuai Liang and Bi-Han, but at least it would make everyone from the Lin Kuei-Shirai Ryu group look much smarter. 

Blindly devoted Cyrax still could have the change of heart - especially when first-handy experiencing the threat of Havik and seeing how Lin Kuei was vital to Earthrealm's safety, while I would not have to wonder WTF was wrong with Scorpion to claim Cyrax is so loyal to Bi-Han in MK1, when literally the first thing we learned about her is how she is disrespectful toward her teacher and Grandmaster (rolling her eyes when Bi-Han praised Sektor for objectively speaking a good job done for example). Not only that, but despite being Lin Kuei her whole life, she has zero idea that even as the good guys Lin Kuei were not there for honorable fight but to exterminate any threat in any way? Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas did not have any objection to sneak into Shang Tsung’s fortress to capture kill him nor with attacking from behind the guard(s) or ambushing the enemy. How can one be trained since childhood to be Fire Lord’s ninja and be disconnected so much from the reality of the job at the same time?

The way Cyrax was written in Khaos Reigns really makes me question why would Sektor or Bi-Han ever be interested in her? Beside the fact she is one of the main protagonists in the story mode and needed to be there, I mean. Not to mention how Kuai Liang's choice to not confront Lin Kuei during MK1's events is weakened by the fact that Cyrax is not blindly loyal like he claimed and if he bothered to contact her or tell his folks the truth, the schism could be stopped or at least lessened. Like… MK1 and Khaos really can’t even agree on its own, common established lore, can they? Cyrax is absolutely loyal to Sub-Zero and would support him no matter what but not Kuai Liang, except nope. Bi-Han lied to the clan and corrupted Lin Kuei! Except it seems only Kuai Liang, Tomas and Cyrax have any problem with his choices, as the rest of clan like, doesn't give a fuck about Liu Kang or their "duty" to Earhrealm. Which is frustrating. I simply wish the NRS made up their mind about the inner workings of Lin Kuei and how characters fit into the new worldbuilding (without giving each character a serious damage to intelligence).

Also, not that I hate Cyrax, but she came off as... meek compared to alternative timeline's Cyrax and I wish her choice to leave Lin Kuei was more about her as person than about Kuai Liang. But I guess this is curse of being turned into female character.

[heywriters]

What're some things you wish you knew before getting into serious writing (i.e. things before writing a novel, editing large projects, etc.)?

This is an excellent question! I've come to terms with some things, but overall I've had a great time learning. Here are a few things that it would have really helped me to know early on.

Most writing advice doesn't need to be taken THAT seriously. While my writing has improved from listening to and applying writing advice, there was a period of time where I felt anxious over how many things I was doing "Wrong." I overcame this by realizing that not all advice was for me, but for some other writer out there. Also, the act of writing improved my writing more than reading about how to improve my writing ever could.

You're never going to be old enough to write with experience! Tongue-in-cheek, but when I learned that most of my favorite works were written by authors past their 40s, 50s, etc. I realized everything I write now will reflect my current age and inexperience. I accepted that and kept writing anyway. Can't write a masterpiece without writing a few flawed stories first!

Most people who love your story will not understand it like you do. Everyone sees something slightly different, or focuses on stuff you really don't care about. On the other hand, there will be a handful of readers who tell you what your story is actually about and those readers are so much smarter than you and they're the best people ever because they make you feel like an accidental genius.

Publishing is a crazy, competitive, hard work atmosphere. Like most creative endeavors, unfortunately, writing rarely pays the bills. It definitely hasn't paid mine. Do it at your own pace, whether that's being published, self-pub, or just writing at home for your own sanity. It's all good.

Inspiration does just go away. You plan a novel, you love the characters, you think this is going to be The One. And then next week you're over it. You still keep it, but you look back at all those plans and feel a little bad that it didn't get an ending...Actually, I'm glad I didn't know this one. I would have avoided so many projects that taught me useful things.

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[dr5amatic]

THE ABILITY TO HOLD PAIN ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel the sword of kaigen: the theonite war story by m. l. wang. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to, murder, death, and violence. change verbiage as needed.

you don’t need to play dumb with me. i like you better when you’re smart.

be careful how hard you love what you know you can’t have.

i’ve never seen you smile. what’s wrong with you? are the corners of your mouth busted or something?

you’re not a disappointment. you couldn’t be if you tried.

you… are you saying our government would lie to us?

any warrior will tell you that even the strong can’t afford complacency.

you’re a good fighter and your small-town pride is cute, but it’s all based on a lie.

you’re talented, but talent is meaningless without self-discipline. you will never be fully realized if you continuously let your pride run away with your principles.

you’re patriotic and loyal. you’re exactly what everyone’s told you to be.

if i kill you, you’ll be facing me with a sword in your hand.

i don’t just make up ridiculous, self-serving lies whenever i feel like it.

i’m too young to die!

are you hurt anywhere else? is there any bleeding?

the moon and ocean fear no change.

we can’t claim to be crime-fighters if we disrespect life just as much as the criminals we fight.

i don’t think killing a horrible, hostile person is really disrespecting life.

if you didn’t want your enemies dead, why even bring me onboard? why did you choose me?

street fighting is always messy and full of cheating.

so, you care that everyone lives, but you don’t care whether you fight clean?

how easy do you think it is to build a life out of nothing?

it’s not your powers that make you special.

i know you can take care of yourself. i’m just not sure you will.

do you not understand? you’re going to die!

if i think your life is in danger, i will kill for you.

only you could turn an offer for help into a threat.

for someone so proficient at fighting, you certainly seem to loathe it.

careful what you wish for.

you should lie down and rest for at least a little while.

can i tell you why i hit him?

you learn over time that the world isn’t broken. it’s just…got more pieces to it than you thought. they all fit together, just maybe not the way you pictured when you were young.

listening never made any man dumber, but it’s made a lot of people smarter.

the world is whole. you are on the right path. everything is going to be alright.

ours is borrowed power, a gift and a blessing. the true power belongs to the gods.

respectfully, i just want to know how you feel about your government lying to you.

do you fight to be remembered?

if it came to it, i would have killed without a second thought. if it was to save [name], i would have killed as many people as i needed to.

that is the dumbest thing you’ve said all day. square up.

you can try to stop me.

i’m not sure i’m worthy of your pride, but i will be. just wait.

you’re going to find something worth fighting for and you’re going to get your chance to fight for it.

you think i’m a good person. that saved my life.

you saved me. i’m going to return the favor, but i need you to trust me and hide.

are you serious? you’re sure you don’t want to run?

power. that’s really the thing people use to decide who they marry?

i don’t want to leave without you.

a life of dangerous adventures might seem worth it now, when you are young and seemingly invincible, but one day, you will have children, and you will not want that life for them.

you’re trying to hurt me so i can leave you here without any guilt.

i know your tactics. they won’t work on me.

this doesn’t seem like something you would have chosen of your own free will.

i made a decision you don’t like, so i’m a coward?

divinity lives here. i think this is a place of miracles.

i never loved you the way i should have.

the least i can do is warn you about what is going to happen next.

are you always going to be this mean to me?

this power… i might not understand it completely, but i know that it comes from my will to protect the people i love.

i’m impressed. patience has never been your strong suit.

you’re good at talking to people – lifting them up, breaking them down. you’ve always been good at that.

i’ve stood by too long while you disgraced yourself, but this–this is the last time you will be weak in front of me.

do you ever feel love?

the anger is not going to go away, but you are going to face it and tame it.

you’re guilty of the same thing i am.

if you don’t want to hurt me, you will face me like a real fighter, with respect

there are worse things than fighting. i like a bit of fighting. it’s silence i can’t stand.

when you’ve been around the world and seen all different kinds of lies, it gets easier to see through them. i don’t fault you for being misinformed.

what happened to the fearless optimist i knew?

a person’s tragedy doesn’t define them or cancel all the good in their life.

how many of them did you kill?

i’ll never understand how you forgive people you disagree with so fundamentally.

i thought i could become strong enough to protect the people i cared about from anything. i understand now that that’s not true. and it’s too late.

[infriga]

Content I wish there was a bit more of in the dbh fandom:

More Content with Connor Markus AND Kara interacting and dealing with shit together, especially in post-game stories. For some reason Kara content is always separate from the other two mains, I wanna see more shenanigans with all 3 of them.

More Connor & Luther interactions. They have so much in common! They can bond over their guilt from being forced to harm other androids before eventually deviating out of empathy! Also they can bond over learning how to not throw themselves into the line of fire at a moment's notice all the time lol.

More Luther content in general. He mostly just gets paired as an accessory with Kara and I wanna see more of him.

More Markus/Josh content. I don't even actually ship them I just think the amount of Mosh content is disproportionately low compared to most other Markus ships. He deserves some ship action too!

More North/Josh content. I DO ship them and the fact that more people don't ship them baffles me considering how much tumblr loves to ship characters who bicker with each other and are treated as polar opposites. Even just some more friendship content with them would be nice.

More Josh content in General. He's an important member of Jericho too but he gets shafted a lot in fics and fanart compared to the other two.

Some ATLA AU content where Markus is the Avatar and Connor is the disgraced Fire Nation Prince hunting him down. C'MON PEOPLE IT'S RIGHT THERE HOW IS THIS NOT MORE OF A THING?! Simon can be the water tribe teacher, Josh can be the earth nation teacher, North can be the Fire Nation teacher, Hank can be Connor's older role model figure who tags along with him and helps him develop his moral compass, Nines can be the terrifying smarter faster stronger younger sibling who also goes after Markus when Connor fails too many times (aka when he lets Markus and other criminal benders escape too many times huehuehue), Amanda can be the Fire Lord (yes I know she's literally an ice queen but you can't tell me she doesn't also fit the sinister manipulative leader character who Connor would be desperate to make proud and live up to her expectations), Kamski can be a former Avatar who shows up to give cryptic advice occasionally. Gavin would be the commander character who constantly gives Connor shit similar to Zhao. IT WORKS SO WELL GUYS. Kara doesn't slot in as well as the others but we can fit her in there somehow, she can maybe be one of the people who moved into that one air temple and repurposed it. It's just kinda wild how well most of the characters/roles would fit the au scenarios so I'm surprised I haven't seen it before when I've seen at least one take on an Avatar AU for almost every other fandom I've been in.

I am aware that I can create more of this content myself but I am currently working on graduating university and getting a job so for now I'm just gonna make a wistful post about it.