#indigo agony

[hunterwritesstuff]

Could we hear about Ebony?

Just posted! Also, have a finished thing with him and his family(And Fiancé /derogatory) for your troubles(Hell-wise) <3 /platonic /j

As always, feel free to ask more questions! :D

Edit: changed Indigo's fur color because, like, Ebony had to get his from somewhere-

[indigowriting]

i'm working on my wip!

is it the wip you already had plotted?

shhhh don't ask questions.

[rachielynne728]

I acquired these goodies recently ☺️

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 34- You ight ☕️

You heard the sound of footsteps on the sand coming from behind you. Turning around, you saw a figure wearing a black cap and sun glasses.

Taking off the glasses, you realized it was Scaramouche. You hadn’t seen him since that night at your studio.

He still had his piercing eyes that you loved so much and his deep indigo hair that fell perfectly into his symmetrical face. He kept on looking better and better every time you saw him.

“So are you going to stand there or what?” Scaramouche’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You cleared your throat before replying, “Um yeah, let’s find somewhere to talk first. I know a spot.”

You began walking to the giant rocks that the ocean’s waves were hitting. It was far enough where people wouldn’t see the two of you. As you were walking, you weren’t saying anything to each other, making the tension in the air awkward.

He helped you climb onto a rock where the two of you are now sitting on.

Neither of you spoke up yet and there was still an awkwardness in the air. You didn’t know what to say and it seemed like neither did he. You both were just staring at the ocean.

You mustered up the courage to finally speak, “I’m really sorry for all the times I have gotten mad at you for tiny things and for always blocking you without telling you the reason why. I’ve never been good with expressing my emotions which always led to miscommunication. I know it’s definitely not the most healthy way to cope with things.” Your voice trailed off when you realized you started rambling.

However, there was still silence coming from his end so you decided to continue, “I guess I’ve always been a people pleaser and in turn I felt like I couldn’t express how I felt to the other person. I was afraid they might dislike me if I ever said no or set a type of boundary. That’s the reason why I would get mad and not tell you why. I liked you so much that I could never tell you. I thought that you would never want to date me even if the circumstances were different. I pretended to be fine with whatever situationship we had going on. I would act in ways to make you jealous just so I can see if you actually cared about me. It’s such a stupid thing to do and I know I should’ve done something about it sooner.”

Scaramouche continued staring at the ocean. He still didn’t say anything which started to cause you to worry.

Did he hate you? Was he mad? Does he think you’re dumb?

You started to regret to opening up your mouth too much and began overthinking.

He locked eyes with yours before finally responding, “I have always liked you Y/n. From the moment we started talking, not a day has gone by where I haven’t thought of you. I was in agony that I couldn’t be with you, I tried to forget about you. I tried forcing myself to hate you because I didn’t want to burden you. I always knew how much you cared for me but I tried burying my feelings for you aside.”

His confession took you by surprise. You hadn’t realized that all this time, this was the one thing eating him up inside.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he already beat you to it, “If I don’t say this last thing now, I’m not sure if I will be able to again. As I said before, I always liked you and I always will. When I first recognized this, I backed out and gave mixed signals. I told you this before but my mother abandoned me when I was young. To this day I have no idea why but I guess I’ll never get an answer. I put all my emotions towards her so when she left I closed it all off. I was worried that if I put my emotions towards someone again, they'll end up leaving me too. I tried pushing you away because I was scared of having someone care.”

You were left speechless. You weren’t sure on what to say and ended up pulling Scaramouche into a tight embrace instead. His head was in the crook of your neck as he hugged you back.

“I’m sorry for getting more people involved than there should’ve been. I’ll never leave you for anything. I’ll always stay by your side no matter what. I wish I hadn’t acted stupid,” You finally replied to him.

He broke apart from the hug and placed a hand on the side of your face, “Don’t feel sorry, I was the one who caused you to act the way you did. I promise I’ll be more reliable to you. I promise I won’t cause you to be in anymore pain.”

You had a full view of his high cheekbones and strong jawline. His full lips were curved into a sheepish smile. You would give up anything to have him continue to smile at you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into his lips. They felt the same but this kiss was different from the last. It was slower but more relaxed and romantic. He snaked his hand on the curve of your back for additional leverage. You were praying to not get spotted this time.

This kiss was more addictive than a drug. Every time you wanted to stop, he would pull your face in to continue. You melted into one another perfectly, as if you were meant for each other. You weren’t bullshitting when you said that you’ll never leave and neither was he. Scaramouche was the forest and you were the fire that always set him ablaze.

The two of you finally broke apart and smiled at one another. You felt relieved that you were able to get this weight off your chest, you didn’t regret it one bit.

“Yeah you cool, you aight type shit,” You chuckled breaking the silence.

Scaramouche flicked your forehead while rolling his eyes, “Nothing is stopping me from pushing you into the ocean you know.”

“If you do I’ll drag you down with me,” You responded as you rested your head against his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you. The both of you watched the sunset and the waves crashing onto the rocks down below.

Everything had now fallen into place.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: I was lowkey smiling when i was writing this 😭😭 The most romantic thing i haver ever experienced was making out in the rain but the guy ended up ghosting me the following week 😓

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu @ennsposts @illu-fu @vitanye

[defectivevillain]

indigo

pairing: Eddie Brock/Reader/Venom Symbiote/Agony Symbiote

reader's pronouns are they/them; race and gender are ambiguous and no physical descriptors are used

summary: “You’re….” Eddie chokes out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together. “Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”

word count: 4.2k | ao3 version

I did some research on the wiki and watched a few clips of the movie, but that’s the extent of my canon knowledge. As such, this won’t be canon compliant.

In this fic, the reader (you) is an experiment of the Life Foundation. Dr. Drake decides to try bonding you with a symbiote. While the union works, it ultimately backfires for him—as you manage to make your escape and go into hiding with the symbiote. Without a symbiote to bond to her, Dr. Skirth ends up living… and once Eddie escapes from the facility, she introduces the two of you.

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, cannibalism, and human experimentation; vomiting and sickness

There’s someone Dr. Skirth wants Eddie to meet. He hates meeting new people, but he owes Dora a favor, so he agrees to meet up with you in the park under the cover of night. Eddie doesn’t know anything about you, other than the fact that you’re a friend of a friend. According to Dora, you’re also tied to the Life Foundation (how that connection manifests, Eddie isn’t sure). Honestly, Eddie just hopes his meeting with you will be useful. Meanwhile, Venom is, understandably, skeptical about the meeting. They make sure to complain to him several times as he makes his way to the park, and they are only satiated with the promise that they can eat you if you somehow turn out to be a villain. 

Unfortunately for Venom, you don’t appear to be a villain. Rather, you’re wearing deceptively casual clothing: a simple sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers. Your hands are shoved in your pockets; there are dark circles under your eyes and you’re staring down at the cracks in the pavement as you stand under a flickering streetlight. There are scars marking nearly every visible part of you—stretching up your collarbone, running down your face, laced across your hands. One thing is abundantly clear to Eddie in that moment: Life Foundation has left its mark on you, too. 

If you sense him staring, you don’t comment on it. Instead, you just look up and send him a hesitant wave. “Hi,” you say, extending a hand to shake as you introduce yourself. Eddie blinks at you for a moment, before introducing himself in return. After a second, he takes your proffered hand and shakes it firmly. His eyes catch on your cracked knuckles and everything seems to fall into place. It appears you’re far more similar to Eddie than he first thought. 

“You’re….” He finds himself choking out, not wanting to get his hopes up. But he recognizes the fatigue in your eyes; the tension in your shoulders; and the hidden synchronicity stringing you together. 

“Like you?” An alien voice growls. A deep blue mass stretches across your face, seeping through your cheekbones and down your neck. You bare your teeth and Eddie is surprised to see inhumanly long sharpened teeth and a drooling tongue. The sight is painfully familiar: it appears nearly identical to Venom, save for the color. In the blink of an eye, the mass is gone, leaving you to stare at him with a sympathetic smile. “Yes.”

Eddie stares at you in disbelief, amazed by your composure. Right now, he feels as if Venom is in complete control. Yet you seem able to switch between your symbiote and your own visage at will. It’s as if the two of you are in complete agreement. “How…?” He trails off. 

Half of your face is overtaken with the alien entity. “We are Agony.” A warped voice responds, a blend of your voice and the alien’s. Slowly, the alien—Agony—drips down your face and disappears from sight. You’re staring at him with a patient expression now. “We can help you.” You state matter-of-factly. 

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with that offer. He finds himself mechanically proceeding through the rest of the conversation, just barely staying afloat amidst the realization that there may actually be someone willing to help him. A few days ago, Eddie would’ve maintained that he didn’t need help; today, he’s grateful for the offer of assistance that he knows he needs. He has no idea how to navigate this tumultuous new existence he finds himself sharing with the alien creature inside him. 

He locks eyes with you, and an unspoken understanding passes between the both of you. There is a visceral fuzzy feeling in Eddie’s chest, as he stares into the eyes of the one person who could ever truly understand his new life. You stare right back at him, evidently having similar thoughts. The two of you are tied together by fate and its cruelties; you have virtually no choice but to lean on one another, lest you both return to your loneliness. 

Eddie leaves twenty minutes later with your number in his phone and plans to meet with you the next morning. He’s fairly hopeful about it—from what he could tell, you seem like a genuinely kind person. Worn thin from the trials you’ve been forced into, but kind nonetheless. Eddie tries to puzzle out how you could still have sympathy for a world that has shown you nothing but malice. 

“Don’t trust them.” Venom growls, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. He feels the symbiote’s restless energy humming along his skin, creating goosebumps that run down his arms as he walks home.

Whether Venom’s remark is a profession of their suspicion or a warning, Eddie isn’t sure. He sighs. “Let’s give them a chance,” Eddie maintains, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continues down the street. “If they somehow turn out to be evil, you can eat them. Okay?” 

Venom is silent for a while. “Fine.” They eventually respond, clearly not happy about it. But the renewed promise of food must be too good for them to turn down. 

Eddie nods, secretly relieved. Admittedly, he’s pretty optimistic about you: you appear healthy, sane, and most importantly, comfortable in your own body. You don’t appear to be constantly at war with yourself, which is rather similar to how Eddie feels at the current moment.

“War,” Venom remarks. There’s no telling whether they possess the same spectrum of emotions that humans do, yet they’re speaking with clear sarcasm. “Very dramatic, Eddie.” Eddie just rolls his eyes. 

The rest of his day passes without much fanfare. He eats a rather bland dinner and falls asleep earlier than normal, if only to quiet his restless thoughts. Before long, it’s the next morning—and he’s freshening up before heading out to the diner you agreed to meet at. 

You’re waiting for him in a brightly-colored booth. Eddie walks over to you, muttering a greeting as he takes the seat across from you. You slide a coffee mug over to him, which he drinks gratefully. His curiosity seems to linger in the air around both of you, until you’re relenting and telling Eddie about yourself. He told you about himself when you met last night; now, it’s your turn to tell your story. 

What Eddie hears is enough to turn his stomach and effectively rid him of his appetite. Essentially, you were one of the human captives used as experiments by the Life Foundation. You describe a constant state of numbness at war with dread and fear. You explain how you were practically left to rot behind those glass walls, until it came time for you to be the next test subject. You recount how you were exposed to the blue symbiote… and how, upon your successful union, Life Foundation planned to experiment on you further. By the time you’re describing your escape, Eddie is resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand over your shaking one—desperate to provide comfort to the one person who understands what it’s like to have a parasite living inside them. 

“Not a parasite,” Venom hisses, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. They sound strangely offended by the remark.

“Right, they don’t like being called that,” you murmur, tapping your fingers rhythmically against the table. Eddie blinks, thrown back into reality. “Symbiote is better.” Agony interjects. You seem entirely unbothered by the interruption. 

An awkward silence descends across the space for a moment, before Eddie blurts out the first thought that comes to mind. “I’m hungry,” Eddie frowns. Indeed, his stomach aches with emptiness—despite his knowledge that he ate just before falling asleep the previous night. 

“We’re hungry.” Venom corrects him. 

You’re looking at him—them, Eddie reminds himself—with amusement. The expression is fleeting. “Right,” you then say, as if you’re just remembering. A grimace rises on your face. “Well. There are two options: chocolate… and human brains.”

Eddie stares at you warily. He didn’t think you were the type to joke about things like this, but it just sounds too far fetched to be real. He must’ve misjudged you, somehow. As if sensing his doubt, you attempt to explain further. 

“I know, I was skeptical too,” you admit, rubbing a hand over your face. While your relationship with Agony seems a lot more clearly defined than Eddie and Venom’s, there’s still a lingering exhaustion written in the lines of your face. You take a slow breath. “Their species requires different nutrients than ours: namely, phenethylamine.” 

“Human brains are better.” Agony states. 

You sigh. “It’s true. Chocolate is really only a temporary fix, because it doesn’t last nearly as long. The two of us have struck up an agreement to only eat bad people, so there’s at least a bit of morality involved...” You break off, clearly sensing Eddie’s impending dread. 

There’s no way around eating humans. It takes him several seconds to process this. Eddie doesn’t want to believe it—doesn’t want to think about the feeling of human matter stuck between his hooked teeth; doesn’t want to think about waking up in the morning, sweat-soaked and stained with the dried blood of a dead stranger. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, your brows furrowed. Eddie hates how sincere you are. And he especially hates how he takes comfort from your reassurance. It shouldn’t mean anything to him—he never cares what people think of him. But the fact that you can not only sympathize with him, but also empathize with him, is rather significant. 

“We can do this,” you promise him. Eddie finds himself oddly appreciative of your choice of wording. You chose to say “we,” as if explicitly confirming your support for him. “We’ll help you.” You repeat. 

“Okay,” he responds stiffly, not trusting himself to say anything else. The two—four—of you spend the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually, the warm sunlight trickles through the windows next to you and breakfast is over. Eddie and you leave the restaurant and stop on the sidewalk outside, turning towards one another. 

“I’ll text you,” you promise. “Let me know if you need anything.” Eddie nods quietly. As if sensing how overwhelmed he feels, your expression morphs into one oddly reminiscent of… affection. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Eddie assents and tells you to do the same, at which a smile rises on your lips. Oddly short of breath, Eddie manages to tear his eyes away and utter a goodbye—though your smile remains in his thoughts for the rest of the day. 

Eddie begins to make progress, slowly but surely. With your guidance, he learns how to communicate better with Venom; fight with their assistance; and even nourish himself better. None of it seems to be important, in the face of the realization that his life will never return back to normal. But, somehow, the satisfied smile on your face when he accomplishes something is enough for Eddie to keep pushing himself. 

Since your first meeting, Venom has warmed up to you a lot more—to the point where they have started speaking to you directly, instead of just speaking to Eddie. Agony has still remained a bit more withdrawn and silent, but their presence is keenly felt regardless. 

Eddie still has moments when he feels as if the world is caving in on him—as if the faces of passerby are contorted in disgust and fear (which was an unfortunate reality in the beginning days of his union with Venom). There are nights when he wakes with dried blood flecked across his skin, but he has grown accustomed to washing it off and forgetting it in the morning. You are a constant companion during these moments, and, sometimes, your touch is the only thing that grounds Eddie to the world around him. Safe to say, the two of you have taken to staying at each other’s apartments more often than not. 

On a few rare occasions, Eddie is the one to hold you—as you remember confinement behind cold glass walls and calculating eyes watching your every move. Eddie can’t imagine what your captivity and torture at the hands of Life Foundation was like… And he’s certain he doesn’t want to think about it, because it will only make him feel even worse. While you’ve both been bonded with symbiotes, Eddie escaped the cruel experimentation that you were subjected to. He was just visiting to get information for an article; you were bound in chains and thrown behind nearly impenetrable barriers. 

Overall, though, things are going well. At least, Eddie wants to think so. But then the universe wants to spite him, and he wakes up one morning feeling as if he was hit by a truck. He’s practically stuck to the cushions of his couch, his limbs as heavy as bricks. His throat is overwhelmingly dry; there’s a bitter taste in his mouth; and, try as he might, he can’t seem to wrench his eyes open. 

“Eddie? …Eddie? Shit.” 

Eddie wakes to a frigid cold. He shivers instinctually, blinking past a strange sheen over his eyelids. It takes his vision several moments to clarify past a swirling blur. His temple is nearly pulsating with pain; his stomach aches and his skin is coated in sweat. Eddie twitches, recognizing your blurry silhouette and realizing you must’ve dumped cold water on him to wake him up. Even now, as he’s been torn from sleep, he’s struggling to stay awake. 

“Eddie?” You ask, sounding very concerned. Eddie isn’t sure he can remember the last time someone was so worried about him. The thought saddens him. Your hands move to his shoulders and you shake him slightly, your brows furrowed. “Can you hear me?” The most Eddie can manage is a weak nod in response. 

“Doesn’t… feel right.” Venom adds. This may be the first time Eddie has ever agreed with Venom.

“Eddie’s sick,” you respond to the symbiote. 

Eddie isn’t able to register much more of your conversation with Venom—not when his ears are ringing and he feels a familiar prickling nausea at the back of his throat. Eddie slowly pushes himself up. Upon realizing that the feeling is steadily climbing up his throat, he clumsily gets to his feet and stumbles towards the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. Eddie can’t quite comprehend what’s happening, other than the burning sensation assaulting his throat and the sudden feel of someone rubbing his back reassuringly. You’re crouching next to him, saying something he can’t make out. Venom responds for him. 

At some point, he stops throwing up and attempts to rest his head. You put the toilet seat down and flush it, before allowing him to do so. Eddie feels a foreign gratitude for the kindness you’re showing him, despite the monster living inside him. The cold porcelain is a welcome sensation on his sweat-soaked skin. 

“Not a monster,” Venom reminds him. Even his companion’s voice is quieter, as if accommodating the headache migrating through his temple and down into his cheekbones and jaw. Eddie doesn’t have the energy to argue. He blinks slowly, the lights of the bathroom only making his headache worse. He feels rather woozy. 

“Here, let’s get you up,” you suggest. Eddie can hardly move, yet your hands bracket his arms and you’re pulling him up as if he weighs nothing at all. (That is likely due to Agony’s help, but he doesn’t exactly have the wherewithal to recognize that). Eddie lurches to the side ominously, but Venom extends a makeshift arm and rights his balance. With Agony, Venom, and you combined, Eddie makes it back to the couch easily. You help him sit down before walking into the kitchen. You return moments later to press a glass of water into his hand. 

Eddie gulps it down greedily. Or, at least, he tries to—only for you to reach out and stop him from drinking any more. “Not too fast,” you remark, taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the adjacent coffee table. “Wait ten minutes or so, just to make sure you can keep it down.”

Eddie stares at you for a long moment, frowning. He hears himself blurting out his thoughts before he can think any better of it. “Why are you here?” Eddie croaks. He is the complete opposite of presentable at the moment; the last thing he wants is for you of all people to see him looking so pathetic. Eddie isn’t exactly sure why he wants to make such a good impression on you, but… he supposes that doesn’t matter now. He can muse on the exact nature of his feelings towards you at a later date, when he doesn’t feel so uncomfortable in his own skin. 

You blink at him for a moment, evidently contemplating the question. “Alone.” Agony responds. Eddie squints at you, watching as the symbiote’s midnight blue mass crawls up your shoulders, as if wrapping an arm around you in reassurance. You don’t even flinch at the sudden presence of your companion. Instead, you take a slow breath and look at Eddie once more. “When it happened to me, I was alone. It was… an isolating experience. I don’t want you to feel the same way.” You explain. 

You then reach down, as if to touch him, only for Venom to protrude from Eddie’s shoulder and snap at you. At least, they attempt to—only for Agony to intercept them and snap threateningly in return. Eddie watches the whole scene through hazy eyes, half-convinced that he’s having a fever dream. Eventually, Agony and Venom seem to resolve their dispute and you reach out towards Eddie again, placing your hand on his forehead to check for his temperature. Eddie can’t stop himself from sighing in relief at your cool skin. You only frown, looking more worried. “You’re burning up,” you say to him. 

“Hot.” Venom adds, clearly feeling a bit of Eddie’s own discomfort. “Like flames.” 

“He has a fever,” you respond, getting to your feet and moving to the kitchen once more. You come back moments later with a towel in hand. Eddie dazedly watches as you approach, folding the towel before placing it on his forehead. He exhales slowly as the cold fabric brings a welcome sensation of frigidity trickling down his temple, fighting off the flames licking at his skin. He’s not sure how long he sits in silence until you’re breaking through it. “Here, it’s been ten minutes. Can you sit up a bit?” You ask. 

Eddie lets out a pained whimper, practically sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Venom stretches out of his back and props him up to a sitting position. Thank you, Eddie thinks. Then the symbiote rises to grasp his forearm, guiding him to grip the glass of water and take another sip. Venom and you then help him return to a reclined position. 

Eddie’s eyelids are stinging with exhaustion. He’s desperately fighting off sleep—blinking tiredly with extra effort. “It’s okay, you can rest,” you reassure him, noticing his fatigue. “We’ll be here when you wake.” 

That comforts him far more than he’d like to admit. Before long, Eddie is slipping into sleep once more. 

“Cared for you,” Venom says days later, when Eddie has mostly recovered. They’re sharing a quiet moment in Eddie’s apartment, sitting on the couch and staring at the television on low-volume. “For us.”

Thinking about his sickness last week, Eddie can’t help but feel humiliated and weak. He’s still embarrassed that you saw him in such a state; frustrated that he needed assistance with even the simplest of tasks; and… grateful, despite it all. You stuck with him in the following few days, giving him medication when needed and ensuring he had enough to eat and drink. You were a constant presence, to the point where Eddie found you asleep on the armchair in his living room numerous times. That sight will be forever burned into his brain: the peaceful expression on your face as your chest rose and fell calmly. He had never seen you look so vulnerable before; and even in the midst of his sickness and the ensuing vulnerability he was forced to show, he felt himself wanting to protect you. It was a foolish thought: Eddie knew you were more than capable of protecting yourself. But perhaps it was just the domesticity of it all—the thought of you becoming a permanent fixture in their life. 

Venom breaks him from his thoughts with a gentle tap at his wrist. Eddie recalls their prior statement and hums. “They did care for us,” he agrees. Venom crawls down his forearm, stretching to inhabit the space between his fingers in what he assumes to be an imitation of hand-holding. There’s an unsettled energy to the symbiote’s presence. Eddie feels a frown overtake his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“It was too quiet.” Venom’s confession settles in the air around him, inhabiting every nook and cranny of his dimly-lit apartment. 

“Sorry,” Eddie eventually murmurs. He’s not sure why he’s apologizing, when the sickness wasn’t under his control. But that tone in Venom’s voice provokes guilt and remorse in him, for reasons he can’t quite elucidate. 

“Don’t do it again.” Venom commands. 

“I don’t really have control over that,” Eddie huffs, attempting to diffuse the sudden tension that settled over the space. Venom lets out a threatening growling noise and he quickly caves. “Fine, fine. I’ll try.”

“Try.” Venom repeats, equal amounts of wry amusement and frustration in their voice. Eddie just hums in response, grasping the symbiote’s tendrils with renewed vigor. Now that he thinks about it, Venom seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn during his sickness: as if they were afraid of pushing him too far past the brink of his energy.

“Sorry,” Eddie whispers again. Venom tightens their grip on his hand in response, and the two of them sit there for a long time after—hands conjoined and fates lovingly intertwined. 

Eddie doesn’t get a chance to thank you until a few days later, when he’s sure his sickness is gone and can safely dismiss the thought of getting you sick. Eddie and Venom meet Agony and you as the sun sets over the horizon, in the same spot where you first met all that time ago. 

Standing under the flickering street light in the park once more, Eddie is unspeakably thankful that he took a chance on you. He can’t imagine where he would be now, without your support. The thought dominates his mind, to the point where he finds himself uttering it aloud moments later. “I don’t know what I would do without you,” Eddie says. 

“You’d be just fine,” you remark with a smile. The way you look at him only adds more fuel to the fire of Eddie’s foolish hopes. When he sees that gleam in your eyes, he can’t help but envision a shared existence: not among two beings, but among four. The thought is misguided and horribly insistent, popping up during the most inopportune of moments. 

Eddie sighs. “I’m serious,” he maintains, trying to convey his sincerity. It seems to work, because you pause and look at him with widening eyes. “I- I couldn’t have done this alone. We couldn’t have done this alone.” Eddie corrects himself, when he can sense Venom about to object. The symbiote drags a tendril down his ribs, in an approving movement that makes his heart race. 

“I’m happy I met you,” you admit. “Selfishly speaking.” Agony crawls up your skin and pops out of your shoulder; Venom does the same, and the two have a conversation in a chittering language that Eddie and you can’t hope to understand. Meanwhile, Eddie is unable to deny your magnetic presence; he can’t help but gravitate towards you. He takes a step closer—past a socially acceptable distance—and stops, trying to study your expression and ascertain your comfort. Eventually, he surrenders and decides to just speak his thoughts.

“Can I…?” Eddie breaks off, unsure of what he’s asking for at the present moment. His thoughts are quickly cascading into a territory far past platonic companionship, but suppressing them is a lost cause. He’s spent too long denying himself the life he wants. Venom crawls up his chest and stretches across his shoulders in a reassuring gesture. Comforted by the reminder of Venom’s presence, Eddie clears his throat and summons the courage to finish his sentence. “Can I kiss you?”

You take a step closer, rendering the distance between the two of you nearly nonexistent. Your hand falls to his forearm and Eddie looks into your eyes, a nervous anticipation running through him as he sees you nod in agreement. “Yes.” You whisper, so quietly that Eddie nearly convinces himself that he imagined it. But before he can second-guess himself, you’re closing the gap between you and kissing him. 

You’re standing so close together that the two of you are practically fusing. Eddie’s hands fall to your waist; your hands cradle his jaw. Agony and Venom prickle along their partners’ shoulders, dripping down your chests and mixing together. Distantly, Eddie remembers how lost and alone he felt when Venom first fused with him. He has long grown out of the feeling, and wonders if, perhaps, that sensation was trying to tell him something. Perhaps, this entire time, existence was meant to be shared amongst three others—rather than just one. 

These philosophical thoughts quickly fade to the back of his mind, as your fingers trace his jaw and slip down to the nape of his neck. Venom rises to meet your hand, just as Agony trickles down your side and runs along Eddie’s knuckles. One realization immediately takes precedence over everything else running through Eddie’s mind: 

He’s never felt so alive.

endnotes: this is definitely the queerest fic I've ever written. and I love it.

Me: I can hardly write kissing scenes with two people. My writer’s brain, cackling: Hear me out. What about… two people and two symbiotes? Me: What. The. Fuck.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

[enigmatist17]

Hadn't seen Rescue Bots in a long time, love the hc that Chase and Prowl were either friends or maybe brothers before the War

---

"Is Chase going to be alright? He's been out there for hours."

"He just needs time, son." The eldest Burns shook his head with a soft sigh, mixing up a salad for dinner. "Go get Cody from the bunker, will you?" His eldest nodded before heading for the fire pole, passing by Graham and Dani seated at the table. They were just as worried for the bot they considered part of the family, but they knew there wasn't much they could do.

Mourning was complicated for anyone.

Optimus Prime had come for a visit earlier that day, pulling Chase aside after giving some greetings and news from the mainland, the Autobot leader's expression heavy. Most of the family knew he and Chase had been sending private comms to each other but, for the most part, hadn't pried into it, as everyone was entitled to their privacy. It only became a concern about an hour after they had left when the three other bots, who had been chatting with their various partners suddenly doubled over in pain, their optics taking on an indigo hue.

"What was that?!" Kade demanded when the bots straightened, eyes widening as he was ignored, the three speaking to each other in their native language that the Burns' had only heard in the first days of their arrival. Heatwave then hurried out of the bunker and towards the woods Chase and Optimus had walked toward, leaving Blades and Boulder to keep the humans from following, still whistling and chirping in their native language as they waited for their leader to return.

That had been hours ago, Optimus and Heatwave returning alone with a command to just let Chase be. The eldest human knew the signs of a death notification only too well, herding his children back into the house after shaking his head with a solemn expression.

"Dad, Cody isn't there." Kade hadn't been gone too long before returning, concerned yet not terribly surprised. "Pretty sure I know where he would have gone."

"I'll go get him then." Charlie sighed as he fixed both himself and Cody a plate of the food he'd made, before descending the stairs and heading outside. The other rescue bots were sitting with Optimus behind the house, the elder nodding his head as he heard them talk in low voices in Cybertronian as he passed them, Heatwave's gaze on his back following the human up and into the tree line. He knew where Chase would have gone, having shown the Cybertronian a small clearing that overlooked a small part of Griffin Rock in the early days of their arrival, stepping out of the woods and approaching the massive figure who sat at the edge of the clearing. Cody was sitting beside him, feet slowly kicking back and forth as he pointed up at the stars, just rambling away as the bot beside him watched in complete silence.

"Oh, hi Dad." Charlie knelt down to offer his son dinner, Cody smiling as his dad filled his hair. "This looks great."

"Eat up, you had a long day." Charlie smiled before circling around Chase, carefully sitting beside the bot across from Cody. For a long while, the only noises were the clinking of silverware against plates and the local nocturnal wildlife, filling a silence that felt heavier the longer it went on.

"Dad, I'm going back inside." Cody eventually spoke, getting to his feet and giving Chase's arm a small hug before moving to get his father's plate. "Um..."

"I'll look in on you later, okay?" His son smiled before heading home, leaving the two officers to sit and observe the town below them. Chase must have been listening to make sure Cody had moved out of auditory range, for a noise Charlie Burns could only describe as agony ripped its way out of Chase's throat barely a minute later, frame rattling as his agony echoed over the area below them.

Charlie just placed a reassuring hand on the trembling metal, letting his partner fall to pieces. He'd had his own share of breakdowns in the past and knew having someone he trusted close by had helped him pull himself back together, and would be a silent support for his current partner. The Cybertronian eventually fell silent, servos trembling as he looked down at Charlie, normally blue optics nearly black from what had to be pure grief.

"My split-spark perished here, defending humanity to the very end." His voice was subdued as he cycled his optics, looking away from the human he'd grown to care deeply for. "I had suspected, but..."

"You needed proof." The mech nodded sadly, whatever else he could say just getting lodged in his throat. "This might sound rude, but what is a split-spark?"

"The closest human equivalent is brother, or perhaps twin. We both originated with the same spark, but for whatever reason Primus wills, we split and became separate mechs."

"What was his name, and what was he like?"

"His designation was Prowl."

[iamthecomet]

Kinktober - Day 26- Watersports

IT'S PISS DAY, MY FRIENDS.

1.7k (ish) words of Dewfrit piss kink. Water!Dew. Some sex magic. Ifrit being so overwhelmed he's basically useless. Dew being a fucking freak (affectionate). Merry Pissmas!

It hurts. 

That’s all Ifrit can think about. The pain. An insistent throb low in his gut. Good in a way he’s not wholly prepared for. Not unlike when he’s been hard for too long. A rolling ache. It’s all consuming though, obsessive. He feels so full, bursting. 

Dew bracing his hands on Ifrit’s stomach don’t help. Neither does the way Dew bounces on his cock. Slick spilling down over him, drying in the short curls at the base of his dick. Dew moans a little louder than necessary–a show. And Ifrit feels like he’s going to combust. 

He can’t take anymore. He can’t wait any longer. He digs his fangs into his cheek. 

“Dew–Droplet–you gotta stop. I’m sorry. Just for a second I have to–”

“You won’t.” Dew doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause. He clenches hard on a down stroke and Ifrit swears the corners of his vision go black. Dew says it with such confidence. Nonchalance. 

Ifrit shudders. He grips Dew’s hips a little harder like he’s trying to get his attention. “Dew you don’t get it. I’m gonna piss myself. You have to–”

“No you aren’t.” Dew insists. “I won’t let you. Not until I’m ready.” 

Ifrit chokes. Shudders. Goosebumps breaking out over his skin. He flexes his fingers on Dew’s hips. Dew sounds so confident but Ifrit doesn’t think his body got the memo. He thinks every roll of Dew’s hips is going to be the last. Every time his ass drops down onto Ifrit’s pelvis. Every flex of Dew’s fingers on the taut skin of his belly. 

Dew doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow and Ifrit doesn’t push him off–he could. But fuck he doesn’t want to. It feels too good. The cool clutch of his body on Ifrit’s always warm skin. The way his back arches as he fucks down onto Ifrit, takes what he needs. Grinds Ifrit’s cock over his prostate. 

Dew pulls one hand away from Ifrit’s belly to tug at himself. Short quick strokes that send pre-cum splattering onto Ifrit’s stomach. Ifrit can’t untangle the sensations now. The urgent aching need in his gut to piss and cum are entanged. Warring with each other. 

He can feel the trickle of Dew’s magic holding both at bay. A damn against an onslaught of pressure that makes Ifrit feel like he’s going insane. 

“Fucking water ghouls,” he muses to himself, gritting his teeth as Dew picks up the pace. Fucking himself with Ifrit’s cock urgently. Ifrit plants his feet and tries to help things along, but that makes everything worse.

“What about water ghouls?” Dew pants. Icey eyes blown wide. Ifrit can’t resist touching more of him. Sliding his hand up Dew’s cool skin to stroke at the feathery gills over his ribs. To tug at the rings threaded through his dusky nipples. 

“Freaks,” Ifrit says, affectionate. Rolling his hips up as best he can to meet Dew. It’s agony. Blissful, perfect agony. 

His body is screaming, lit up white hot with pleasure pain. He’s torn, always, between begging Dew to just give him relief. Or pushing onward. Dew could keep him here forever. Right on the edge. Seconds away from cumming. Seconds away from pissing himself. Never getting relief. 

Dew blushes. Deep indigo color spreading over his pale cheeks. “If you’re complaining about it I could just–”

Dew lets go of his magic for half a second. Just long enough for Ifrit to realize how wildly out of control he is. In that span of time, the clench of Dew’s body drags him inexorably toward an orgasm that promises to ruin him. Dew grinds his hand down and Ifrit is sure–positive–that he’s going to lose control. 

“Dew. Fuck. Wait I–oh shit–oh no.” 

He starts to shove Dew away, off. And then the magic is firmly in place again. A wall Ifrit can feel himself bump up against but not break through. His body screams at him. 

“Let me cum at least, Dew. Fuck, please.” 

“Not done,” Dew admonishes. Ifrit drops back into the pillows with a groan. He closes his eyes. Can’t look anymore. Can’t do anything except feel. It burns. Aches. Every flutter of Dew’s body is a reward and punishment. He wants to help–to contribute, he’s useless. Every move he makes feels like it will be the last one. 

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as overwhelm sets in. His cheeks burn. He pulls one hand away from Dew’s body to sling his arm over his face. He’s dimly aware that he’s making noises, like hearing them from across the room. Small gut punched sounds. Whimpers. High and broken as Dew grinds down on him. Uses him. 

Ifrit wants to touch. To tease. Wants Dew to be fucking into his fist instead of his own. 

“Tell me what it feels like,” Dew asks, voice hoarse. Breathless. “Hurts.” 

“More.” 

“So fucking full. Like I can’t take anymore but I do anyway.”

Ifrit moves his arm just in time to see Dew grin. 

“You like it.” 

Not a question. “Yes,” Ifrit hisses, hips jerking up toward Dew’s body, fucking into him as best as he can manage. 

“Like it so much you’re crying about it.” Dew swipes a finger through the tears leaking from Ifrit’s eyes. Ifrit chokes on a sob, tries to hide it–can’t. There’s no use in it. He’s nodding again without even telling himself to. 

“Please, Dewy. pleasepleaseplease.” 

Dew’s pace picks up and Ifrit starts to babble. Tells Dew everything he thinks the little water ghoul wants to hear. How gorgeous he is. How good he feels. How fucked up Ifrit is for it. He begs–for what he isn’t even sure. For Dew to cum. For Dew to just let him go–let it go. 

He talks until his throat hurts. Babbling incoherently as Dew fucks himself stupid on Ifrit’s cock. Clenching and fluttering as he strokes at himself with increasing speed. Splattering copious amounts of pre all over Ifrit’s stomach to dry in his happy trail. 

“Gonna–fuck–gonna cum.” Dew pants. He makes a wounded noise when he cums. Doubling over and shooting thick spurts over Ifrit’s stomach. Clenching so hard around Ifrit’s cock Ifrit thinks he might black out. Dew sags. Doesn’t move for a mintue as he catches his breath. It feels like an eternity. Ifrit can feel hismelf coming apart at the seams. 

“Dew–”

“Yeah, shit, sorry.” Dew pulls off with a hiss. Revealing Ifrit’s cock, wet, sticky, and flushed nearly violet in color. Dew settles between Ifrit’s thighs. He curls his fingers around the base of Ifrit’s cock and squeezes. Ifrit jolts. He wants to swallow the noise he makes–but he can’t. Low and pained. 

Dew gives him a few strokes. Soft, gentle. Thumbing delicately over the head as he looks up at Ifrit, blue eyes wide and still so devious despite having just cum. Dew’s magic is subtle in that Ifrit can’t really feel it when it’s there–but as soon as he lets go Ifrit knows it. The absence of Dew’s control is obvious. Ifrit scrambles for it when Dew lets go. All of his muscles tightening. Clenching down on nothing to try to keep it all in. 

Each of Dew’s strokes is maddening. He doesn’t really know what’s going to happen first–but he has his guess. If he doesn’t ge tup and go to the bathroom right now he’s not going to make it. He moves to sit up but one look from Dew stops him. He pauses, holding Dew’s gaze like they can read each others minds. 

Dew takes the hand not wrapped around Ifrit’s cock and presses down on his stomach again, on the swollen bulge between his hip bones. Ifrit bows in on hismelf. He gasps. A small dribble of piss wells at the tip of his dick before he manages to stop it. Dew gasps, rolls his fingers through it. “More,” Dew demands.

“Dew–”

“Please. Give me more. Let me see.” Ifrit feels more tears well in his eyes, heat floods his cheeks. God he wants to–wants nothing more than to give Dew anything he wants. But he knows if he lets go now it’ll be more than a dribble. It’ll be a flood. He shudders. 

“Dew I–”

“C’mon. Do it and I’ll let you cum.” 

“Dew–I–the sheets. I’ll make a mess.” 

“I don’t give a shit about the sheets. I want you to make a mess. I want it. Give me all of it, ‘Frit. Please.” 

Ifrit sobs when he finally lets go. That little dribble turning into a full stream. Spilling from his cock to run down onto his belly, his thighs, the sheets beneath him. Dew strokes him through it. One hand on his cock and one on his thigh. Fingers dragging through the mess as it keeps coming. Mouth open, jaw slack. Watching with rapt attention as Ifrit empties himself for all he’s worth.

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” Dew groans. Ifrit can see his cock twitching back to life between his legs. Kicking as Ifrit’s piss soaks into the sheets under Dew’s knees. 

Ifrit moans with it. The relief of it. The rush of warmth and wet. The tension bleeding from his muscles as he finally empties himself. He gets two blissful seconds of peace before Dew is stroking harder, faster. Fingers frictionless against his wet cock. The wet sound of it makes Ifrit’s stomach hurt. 

“Oh fuck, Dew. I’m gonna–you’re gonna make me–” Ifrit sobs, back bowing off the bed as he cums, finally. The edges of his vision darkening, eyes rolling back in his head,  as he paints Dew’s hand and his own stomach. 

Ifrit doesn’t move for a minute. Lying in his own mess. Covered in piss and cum. He closes his eyes tight while his heart hammers out of his chest. When he finally cracks them open it’s to the sight of Dew licking his fingers clean. Sucking cum and piss-coated fingers into his mouth. Tongue flicking out to catch the cum on his knuckles. Ifrit groans, spent dick twitching hopelessly against his thigh. He grins up at Dew all the same, ready, always for whatever comes next. “Told you water ghouls were freaks.” 

[stararch4ngelqueen]

In spirit of ur last Jason fic can u do a Drabble or small fic w ghost where he has a night terror and when reader tries to help him he really hurts her? Even though she forgives him he doesn’t trust himself. (Maybe she is also a military personnel)

This is not proofread

- -

It’s unclear who’s hand Simon believed he was clutching back with all of his strength. A forearm withholding glimmering, serrated steel from his jugular by an enemy.

The hand of his bastard spawn labeled as his father preparing to strike him down with a fist.

Hands attached to painted faces grasping rusted butcher hooks behind their backs.

A whisper invaded his conscience. A trembling plea from quivering lips, begging him to wake up from his cursed agony. Your voice was soothing, like warm milk and honey, encouraging him to open his eyes.

His heart never hurt so horribly when his mind slipped back into reality, meeting your petrified gaze full of distressed tears.

“Simon.” You speak up through a forcibly calm demeanor, like you remembered to practice.

“Simon. It’s okay, you’re okay … you’re fine. You’re safe.”

He almost believed you, until he fully collected his bearings.

What he saw, what he had done, made all your calm words reach chiming ears.

Its unclear if he had you pinned down to the mattress like he’d done with his shadowy victim. No, regardless, why are you choosing to forgive him so easily?

What he remembered that night was scrambling out of bed, tossing the sheets off his sweaty back. He didn’t look back, refusing to acknowledge your worried cries when you follow him, only halting once the front door slams shut behind him.

He didn’t come home the first night. All phone calls going straight to voicemail for a solid nine hours, just until you remembered he didn’t leave with it.

Simon told you to slap him if he ever caused harm on you. Hit him back, punch him, stab him deep in his scarred ribs, but you never could. Violence struck with violence never stuck well with you, regardless of the battles you fought for your country.

Simon said nothing to you when you greeted him from the kitchen when he came home the next evening. You behaved as if it didn’t happen at first, offering him a sweet, hopeful smile he had no right to visually bare.

“It wasn’t your fault, Simon,” you attempt to convince him, not seeing the wrong he believed he had some to you the night before. No, the wrong he knew he had committed.

“Better off putting a bullet in my damn head.” He murmurs, exhausted eyes refusing to meet yours.

It was the first words he had said since he came back home. Those very words striking a bullet in your heart instead.

“No. No no,” you approach fast, grasping his face in your hands. “No! Don’t you ever say that. Don’t even think about it, Simon!”

Without warning, he clutched your hand, wedding bands clinking against each other as he yanks up your long sleeve, revealing the damage he’d done.

“I hurt you!” He shouts, forcing your other hand off his face. “Get that through your head! How can you stand here and forgive me for this?!”

Bruises. Broad, indigo bruised the size of his fingerprints. Grape colored crescents from his naturally crooked nails painfully digging into your skin, nearly drawing blood.

“You did hurt me,” you say, meeting his furiously narrowed expression with glassy eyes. “You’re hurting me right now the more you keep blaming yourself.”

Simon scoffs after releasing your hand, wanting nothing more than to rid himself of your presence out of self disgust. However, your hand grasps hold of his arm, encouraging him to halt in his step.

“Did you intend it? No,” you shook your head. “You didn’t. That’s not your fault, this is something you can’t control. You can’t blame yourself for that!”

There you go again, continuing to insist he wasn’t to blame for your injuries, conveniently hidden under your long sleeve to appear presentable. As if you could pretend it didn’t happen.

Simon wished he could pretend too, but he’s a strict believer to reality.

What else could you tell Simon to get it through his mind? It was difficult. Even after this discussion, he slept on the couch for nearly two weeks. His natural silence was painful, his heartache for harming you without intent was difficult for him to process.

You couldn’t take it, sleeping alone without your husband. He hadn’t had this kind of episode in weeks, nearly two months in total. Yes, he never hurt you before, but the harm he inflicted upon himself left you feeling powerless to help him.

“Simon?”

Your sweet voice opens his eyes to darkness, his rattled mind preventing him from receiving an ounce of sleep.

There you stood in front of the couch, a thin blanket draped over your shoulders, a heavily distressed expression invading your sniffling face.

You missed him. Even since before you were married, you used to enjoy sleeping alone. These weeks of distance had you realizing what hell you were immersed in, sleeping in an empty bed without your death masked killer protecting you from the cold.

Sleeping on the couch wasn’t new, crammed together like little fishes in a tin was how the both of you slept when you first moved into your home late at night. The both of you too tired to construct the bed frame or unwrap the mattress from copious amounts of heavy plastic.

Simon missed you too, regardless of his guilt. He missed your koala like tendency to cling to his body as if you lived in the Antarctic all your life, submerged in your dreams with the sound of his heartbeat to keep you company.

Thousands of screaming apologies express in the silent essence of his tears as he holds you, pondering over what he could do to make sure this never happens again.

[missmilkie]

DC Smutshots

Dick Grayson and Wally West x fem!reader

Warnings: mild gang rape scene, drinking, threesome, vaginal sex, anal sex, blowjob, eating out, vaginal fingering, using super powers for inappropriate activities, voyeurism, overstimulation, no protection, thigh fucking, dirty talking

Since leaving the Teen Titans, you got used to being on your own. The friends that you had been so close with were now distant from you. You didn’t go to the arcade or the mall to screw around anymore. You just sent them a happy birthday text when you had the courage to.   

It’s not that you were lonely, you just knew that people grow apart sometimes. It was important for you to separate and do what was right for you.    

You moved to Indigo Falls for college. At Indigo State University you majored in (your major). Your roommate was nice to you, but had her own friends that she hung out with away from you often. Most of your days were spent studying, working, and patrolling the city. And you were content with it.    

Your classes were enjoyable and your coworkers didn’t suck. Indigo Falls has as much crime as any other city, so you were kept pretty busy. You really didn’t mind. Having close friends would be nice, but you didn’t really need it when you called some old titans friends every once in a while. 

After finishing up your homework, you shoved your textbook back into your backpack. Your roommate was out as usual, so you changed into your suit and went out the window. 

The early autumn breeze caressed your skin through your skin tight suit. You easily slipped away off campus to the rest of the city. It was noisy and a little stinky, but you were mostly used to it by now. Your legs pumped as you broke out into a run, flying across the rooftops. A satisfying burn took your legs before fading to the background. Your eyes scanned over the streets, analyzing every detail.    

For a while there was nothing. Nothing amiss among the alleyways. Then you saw it. The flash of a gun or two. You swiftly changed direction to loom over the scene unfolding. Gang rape.  

A teenage girl in a crop top and baggy ripped jeans was sobbing as one guy wrestled her clothes off with another pointing a gun to her head. You silently dropped to the street behind the guy aiming the gun at her. You disarmed him so fast, he didn’t have time to think before you knocked him out. The others immediately became defensive and whipped out their glocks.  

You whipped fireballs into existence with a flick of your wrists and hurled them at each guy in rapid succession. Their guns clattered to the pavement as they howled in agony. The guy who was undressing the girl let her go and began to back away slowly. Fixing him with a burning glare, you coated your fist with fire and lunged for him. He took your flaming punch to his chest with a scream. You knocked them out easily before tying them up to leave them for the police.  

“Are you alright?”   

The girl looked up at you with wide tearful eyes. She didn’t appear to be hurt, so you relaxed a bit.   

“I think so.” She mumbled. “Thank you.”   

“They deserved it. Filth like them don’t belong anywhere near innocent people.” With that, you turned on your heel and blasted off onto the rooftop to sprint away. It wasn’t far before you stopped in your tracks.  

“Hey, Inferna~”   

“Hope you don’t mind visitors.” 

Nightwing and Kid Flash were looking you up and down, grinning.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming??” You ran to jump into their arms.  

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dick chuckled.

“We wanted to surprise you.” Wally shrugged it off as if this wasn’t a huge deal to you.   

“You guys wanna patrol with me? I got enough cash for some pizza if we get hungry.”   

“Let’s do it.”

When your roommate texted saying she wouldn’t be back tonight, you invited the boys to stay a while. The three of you sat on your bed, drinking twisted teas and eating pizza. Wally easily destroyed an entire pizza on his own. You chuckled at his appetite. Super speed really takes it out on his metabolism.

You had changed into an Indigo Uni T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. No bra because you were comfortable with them. You’ve seen each other with a lack of clothing several times due to injury or missions. 

“So how’s college?” Dick asked with his smooth voice.   

“It’s alright. Decent grades, even better attendance.” You nodded as you said that.   

“Go to any fun parties?” Wally questioned between chews.   

“Haven’t had the time. I don’t really know anyone here anyways.”  

“You did always keep to yourself.” Dick remarked with a smile.  

“Someone’s gotta patrol the city at night.” You shrugged.   

“Even heroes gotta have fun.” Wally scooted closer, moving the empty pizza boxes.   

“I am.” You smiled, “you two are here.”   

Dick crawled over to sit beside you. He turned on a movie while you and Wally cleaned up a bit. The boys sat at your sides to watch the movie, effectively sandwiching you between them. Their different scents overloaded your senses. Dick’s sultry cologne mixed with his natural musk and Wally’s breezy outdoorsy smell. The warmth radiating off of them made you hot. It was so comfortable between them though.

   

Dick leaned his head on your shoulder about halfway through the movie. Towards the end, Wally’s hand was resting on your thigh. You hadn’t noticed how close you all were until the credits started rolling.   

“Should I put in another movie?” You asked, sitting up straight with a deep blush.  

“No, you should just stay here.” Wally tightened his grip on your thigh.  

“I second that.” Dick snuggled into the crook of your neck. 

“Ok, I’ll just put some music on instead.” Your phone was nearby, so you had no trouble putting one of your playlists on shuffle.

The boys sang along softly and sometimes off pitch. It was entertaining to listen to. You even joined in sometimes. Their voices were warm and familiar. They brought back memories of drunk karaoke while hiding away from one of your superhero mentors. Or late nights patrolling in each other’s cities.  

The titans were your life. How could you have let them go like you did? You left to pursue a career that would always come in second place to your heroism.

You missed them. You missed the made up lingo and inside jokes. You missed their warmth and support. You missed Dick dancing or breaking out into song at random moments. You missed Wally’s spontaneity and dumb science jokes that had you facepalming to the high heavens. You missed their flirty banter with you.

“It’s nice to be with you guys again.” You murmured against the music.

“It’s been way too long.” Wally whined.

“Yes, let’s make the most of our time.”

“We want you.” You could feel Wally’s hot breath on your ear. Your breath hitched.

“You do?”

“That’s why we came.” Dick chuckled lowly.

“We couldn’t resist any longer.”

“I’m glad you came then.”

Wally turned your head to kiss you while Dick dove at your neck. The redhead’s hand on your thigh rubbed along the length of it, inching closer to your crotch. The mouth on your neck sucked a bruise on the skin. You had a hand on the space between Wally’s neck and shoulder, while the other caressed Dick’s jaw.

“Guys..!” You giggled breathlessly at the sensations they gave you.

You felt a hand slide across your ribs to gently squeeze your breast. A squeal escaped your throat. A thumb hooked into the waistband of your pajama pants. You were growing wetter by the second.

“Dick you should taste her mouth, it’s sweet.” Said male resurfaced from your skin.

“You should taste her skin then.”

They switched jobs, Dick turning your head to kiss you hard and slide his tongue in. Wally licked a long stripe up your neck. You shivered at his touch. The three of you moaned into each other.

You felt a hand dip into your panties. Warm fingers brushed across your clit, moving to your entrance to collect your slick. It brought your wetness to your bud. The fingers rubbed slow circles that had you clenching your thighs. The fingers gradually increased speed until they were vibrating on your clit. Wally.

“What do you think of this application of my power?” He asked cheekily.

You cried out as the pleasure increased. You couldn’t form intelligible sentences. Orgasm was so close for you.

“Gonna cum already? It’s gonna be a long night, just so you know.” Dick took in your fucked out face with his dazzling blue eyes.

“Should I stop then? Or should I push her over the edge?”

“Finish her. I wanna see her face when she cums.”

“Okay, but I get to see next.”

It wasn’t long until your insides pulsed, more wetness staining your panties. Your thighs trembled as Wally’s fingers slowed down. The redhead slipped his hand out of your pants.

“I think we’ve been in our clothes way too long. Let’s fix that.” Dick suggested, tossing his shirt over his head.

Wally pulled off your pajama pants while Dick went for your t shirt. Your nipples hardened at being exposed to the outside air. After snapping the band of your underwear, Wally took those off too.

The redhead was undressed in a blink. Dick wasn’t too far behind him, tossing his pants aside.

“I wanna eat it.” Dick grabbed you by your hips and dragged you closer to him.

“You should suck me off while you’re at it.” Wally grinned while he rubbed at his length.

You ended up with your head hanging off the bed and your legs on Dick’s shoulders. The man between your legs pushed his tongue into your dripping hole. The intrusion was welcome, but you were still sensitive. His tongue then flicked out to lick up to your bud and suck at it. Your legs clamped around his head in response.

Wally pressed his tip to your lips and you opened your mouth to let him in. Your tongue brushed against a sensitive part of his shaft, causing him to shiver.

“Fuck, (Y/n)…” he groaned as he slowly thrusted into your mouth.

He didn’t go in too far to start with. Wally built it up gradually until you were crying and coughing on his dick.

Dick didn’t let up on you and ate your pussy like he was starving. He edged you with his tongue several times to force you into a more intense orgasm. The bottom half of his face was glistening with your cum.

“Her pussy tastes even better! Wally, come try.”

Wally pulled out of your mouth and plunged two fingers into your cunt. He finger fucked you into another orgasm before pulling them out to suck your juices off.

“You’re right! She’s so good.”

“I’m getting tired of playing around though.” Dick’s voice darkened. “I wanna fuck you now, (Y/n).”

You were flipped over onto your hands and knees.

“Now I can finish fucking your tight throat.” Wally chuckled.

You felt Dick’s cock rub against your entrance. He fucked your thigh gap for a few moments before actually slipping into you. It took a second for him to push the head of his cock through, but once he was in it felt incredible.

“Her pussy’s tight too. Squeezing me so tight~”

Once you got into the rhythm of Dick fucking you, Wally pressed his dick to your lips again. The acrobat picked up his pace soon after and had you moaning on Wally’s cock.

“Oh, fuck~ Keep sucking me like that, babe.”

As Dick’s pace increased your mouth brought Wally closer and closer to climax. His hips stuttered before he came down your throat. The saltiness of his cum burned a bit, but you swallowed.

“Good girl~” the redhead ruffled your hair.

Drool seeped from your mouth as Dick pounded you into your cheap dorm mattress. Your ass rippled with every thrust. Every time he brushed a good spot, you cried out in pleasure. Soon he was hitting all the right places and you were barreling towards release.

“Cum on my cock for me, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

He didn’t let up, his pace perfect and aim even better. Dick felt you tighten around his cock before coating it in thick, sticky cum.

“Oh, fuck~ So good for us~~” he groaned before pulling out and cumming on your ass.

You barely caught your breath when Wally declared that he wanted a turn inside you. The guys positioned you so that you straddled Wally, facing him. Dick sat off to the side to watch his friend’s dick disappear into your folds.

Wally thrusted up into you, and you gripped his shoulders tight. Your nails were sure to leave marks.

“Fuck, you’re really squeezing me! You just love our dicks, huh.”

You were fucked so dumb beyond the ability to speak. The redhead just kept pounding into you, taking your moans for an answer. You couldn’t see it, but you could hear Dick pleasuring himself behind you. He watched his best friend impale you on his dick and was enjoying it.

Bringing your hips down to meet his thrusts, Wally made you cream on his cock.

“You’re making such a mess~” he purred. “Dick, you’d better get over here. I won’t last much longer.”

The bed shifted behind you. You felt his chest against your back and his dick against your asscheek.

“Alright, I’m going in.”

You felt a pressure at your ass. Dick suddenly thrust up into you, filling your other hole. You cried out at how full you were. The boys fucked you in search of their own release. Their paces weren’t synced in the slightest, but it had your head thrown back on Dick’s shoulder.

He leaned down to messily kiss you. A hand groped at your breast while another snaked down to your clit. You were falling apart on them.

“Give us one more, babe.”

Wally went super speed in your pussy, your entire body jolting and cumming intensely. They both groaned at your reaction. It wasn’t long before Wally came inside you, Dick following soon after. You all rode out your orgasms before moving.

Dick helped you lay down while Wally got you a water and wiped you down with a towel.

“One of us can carry you to the bathroom if you need.”

You gave them a tired smile before accepting.

The next morning, you were woken up by your roommate screaming. You were between the two men who fucked your brains out the night before and all naked under the blanket.

You were embarrassed, but the guys just smirked. You were theirs.

EDIT, 5/15: I removed the song bc ppl thought Dick and Wally were saying the n-word. Just imagine whatever song you want, I guess. Thanks for reading!

[madychi]

Agony Infected AUIt probably wasn't the intention, but Boz and Byl gave me a bit of a gay vibe because of their silly doodle and the latest drawing. I'm not the best at shipping characters (I ship an adult and a raccoon, lol) because of an Indigo Park fanfiction. Shipping two killers is just another normal day, lol.

… eh, yknow what it’s fine. Not the vibe I was going for but I can understand it. Boz literally bit Dylan in the neck. To infect him. And I did a doodle of pit traps agony doing the “gay gay homosexual gay” meme.

At least their both kids in the same age range.

[g0j0s]

a painting of the passing of the mughal emporer, Shahjahan, looking at the taj, with his favourite daughter, Jahanara by his side

“bapa,” she whispers, clasping his wrists to feel his pulse. a damp wind rises over the yamuna river & flutters through her silk ghagra. the moon shines in its full glory, witnessing the reverence of this royal family. princess jahanara gently rocks her father whose cold skin remains still. titled the king of the world, Shahjahan, descends into the after world as a pauper. she wipes her tears, wailing and calling out to her brothers with whom he’ll unite soon.

“farewell, bapa,” she kisses his hands that smell like kashmiri apples. she rises from his side, her flushed cheeks smeared with dried salt. across the indigo river she can see the luminous tomb of her beloved mother, resting by the flowing river. she weeps, but relived that her father is out of his misery. nine years of agony & finally he can be with his begum, his aziz.

[treviso-nights]

he loves me not - shall we date? obey me! (mc vs. belphie)

rating: T-M words: 4k summary: a one-shot addressing the MC's emotions after That Scene from the first season. idk why they never bring it up again, but if you're gonna fight, you might as well keep it in the family & go all out, bb! (ewww.) (spoilers for the first season, obvi.) (characters include all of the brothers and a FMC.)

read on ao3

The sharp sound of her hand across his face is a gunshot, a cannon explosion which detonates all around them.

The amethyst-eyed demon balks, mouth wide open, the unending indigo of his gaze flaring to life at the assault. He staggers where he stands, dazed, not by the pain itself but because of the shock. 

Everyone else is frozen as well, varying expressions of horror and fear etched onto their faces. No one steps forward to stop or restrain her, and Freya sways from the force of her own attack, though she orients herself at once. And then, without an ounce of hesitation, she tenses again, all of the muscles in her body rigid with fury.

The opposite hand slams into the demon’s face, palm and fingers hard against him. Her knuckles collide with a delicious impact, and a fodder of gasps dissolve into the air. The demon stumbles, just once, his back foot catching on the ground to steady himself.

But she is already vaulting, clinging to the demon’s body as they both crashed to the ground with a painful thud! Straddling his waist, Freya cocks her fist back and prepares to strike and strike and strike. She doesn’t realize she is screaming until the grass beneath her is shivering from the force.

XXX

She is fading. She is dying. She can feel the sides of her trachea being crushed underneath his fingertips, folding into itself and mawed by his supernatural strength. She cannot even gasp for air as he lifts her a few inches off the ground, her toes intermittently dragging across its surface. Freya is beating and slapping and hitting at the arm and hand which kills her so easily, but she knows. She knows she doesn’t stand a chance.

“I can’t stop laughing,” he giggles, the staccato array of chuckles darkening into madness. “The look on your face! Ahahaha!!”

Her eyes wander, desperate to claim one last look at the person she loved most in the three fucking realms. He isn’t there yet. No one is. Will she really die before smiling at him one last time?

“BELPHEGOR!”

All at once, a horde of demons appear. They’re seemingly conjured from the void, racing into the foyer from the kitchen, the dormitory hallways—Satan nearly trips down the stairs from the force of his own shock and terror.

A swell of hot, stinging tears gathers behind her eyes, and suddenly, she is crying. She is sobbing, in fact, unable to choke out noise or phlegm or snot, and twitches because of it. As she gazes upon the faces of her most cherished loved ones, she finds that her chest not only constricts but convulses as well. The six, demon brothers stare at her, horror and agony blended together upon each feature, twisting their eyes and mouths in harsh ways.

Satan is the first to speak, hands trembling by his sides. “Let her GO, Belphegor!”

But Belphegor only grins, the smile exposing too many of his teeth to be natural. “Why should I? Look at how the human squirms. Isn’t she lovely like this?” For a moment, Belphegor’s gaze rakes over her face and body, slightly suspended as it still is. “Her face… tightened in pain… she’s exquisite.”

A hiss pulses through the air. She finds Lucifer, black aura gathering around him in waves. Wings suddenly explode out of him, and he shifts into demon form.

“Do not force me to take action, Belphegor.” Lucifer’s voice is sharper and more severe than she’s ever heard it before. He takes two steps forward, surpassing the crowd his brothers have formed in front of them.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Belphegor only sneers. “It’s too late.”

And indeed, it is. Freya gazes into the churning, broiling eyes of a man plunged into insanity, and she finds nothing there but the desire to cause pain. Although a fire erupts inside her chest, a deep, unending cold seeps into her skin, her bones… Freya’s eyes flutter closed of their own accord, until another voice, cracking with desperation, snaps her back to the present.

“Belphie…” Beezelbub pleads.

“Please.”

It’s almost imperceptible—the flash of doubt, so minute, illuminating Belphegor’s eyes. The flash is replaced by rage however, and Freya feels her arms drop to her sides. She’s so close to death, she can’t even lift her limbs. The fire swirls hotter, calcinating her heart and lungs into dust.

She wants to speak… but death will not let her.

Goodbye, she thinks, trying her very best to somehow project this thought into the minds of the brothers. She thinks of deep, red, carnelian eyes before the endl, too weak now to even find them.

 I love you all.

The bonfire suddenly stutters, and the world goes black.

XXX

She is airborne… and then something hard and rock-solid collides with her back. If she was breathing, the wind would’ve been knocked out of her. Instead, she simply lays there, every sound around a garbled concoction of noise.

Tendrils of warmth snake around her, pressing her close to something which is also warm. Her neck is suddenly supported, though her head still tilts over it, limp.

“Freya… Freya!”

She can barely make the words out. She knows that voice, though. A painful, weak lick of fire stabs through her. Mammon…

“Freya, don’t you die! FREYA!”

“Ahahaha! Mammon, you look like such a fool!”

“Belphie, what have you done!?” Beel…

Something fluid then drips onto her cold, frigid face. Warm and wet, she can feel the liquid trailing over her own cheeks and neck.

Tears?

Is Mammon… crying?

“Freya,” he chokes, his voice a mere whisper. She can feel him start to shake against her. “Come back. Please come back to me.”

Freya never wanted this… never wanted to leave the brothers, Simeon and Luke, the Devildom… hell, even Solomon, who contains more secrets than she could ever fathom. Barely cognizant and even in the clutches of imminent death, she realizes that she hates Belphegor for taking her away from them all.

She hates him. He did this. He killed her. And now the brothers will suffer. They will cry and scream and wail, and Belphegor will swallow it all whole, such is his taste for destruction.

If she could, Freya would kill him. She would end his life.

Freya is fading. Her last thoughts are saturated with rage and despair… not quite a fitting death, she thinks. Still. She will die in the arms of someone she loves deeply, someone who, despite the ice-cold shell of her broken body, keeps her tepidly warm against him.

The vibrations of loud, combustible clamor suddenly sounds off in the foyer. Yelling. People are yelling, though she is nothing but a pinprick of sentience left. Freya knows she will go in the next several seconds, and the warmth from before descends onto her forehead. Skin… Mammon’s skin. Mammon’s forehead. He is rocking them back and forth, his eyes spilling droplets of tears onto her own.

“Freya, I love you,” he breathes onto her cheek. “Don’t go. Don’t die. I love you.”

Reality dissolves, unravels itself like an infinite, cosmic ball of yarn. The void sings a haunting melody which resounds throughout the entirety of her body. Freya, exhausted, lets go. The blackness overtakes her and she is unwillingly, but peacefully, shrouded inside a dimension of nothingness.

Mammon… be happy.

XXX

They’re on their way to class. The twinkling constellations glimmer back at them from the sky, their once unfamiliar skeletons now relatively memorized. Each demon is a mass of towering splendor, and Freya, with her long, raven hair and heterochromic eyes, is a slender body weaving between brothers, exchanging banter and small-talk.

Asmodeus leaps forward, seizing Freya’s right arm to his chest. “I want to walk with Freya! You want to walk with me too, right, gorgeous?”

Similar sentiments—as well as louder opposition—sound off behind them.

“Oi! Asmo! Get your filthy hands off of my human!”

“T-That’s not fair! What if I want to walk with her?”

“Are you all really incapable of ever shutting your mouth?”

And then, a slighter demon with indigo-grey hair is at her side, zipping to her at incredible speed. His hands, delicate and pale, proceed to encircle Freya’s left arm. She is subsequently yanked to him, hot breath washing over one cheek as he speaks with a laugh.

“What Freya isn’t saying is that she really wants to walk with me, rig—“

The sharp sound of her hand across his face is a gunshot, a cannon explosion which detonates all around them.

The amethyst-eyed demon balks, mouth wide open, the unending indigo of his gaze flaring to life at the assault. He staggers where he stands, dazed, not by the pain itself but because of the shock. 

Everyone else is frozen as well, varying expressions of horror and fear etched onto their faces. No one steps forward to stop or restrain her, and Freya sways from the force of her own attack, though she orients herself at once. And then, without an ounce of hesitation, she tenses again, all of the muscles in her body rigid with fury.

The opposite hand slams into the demon’s face, palm and fingers hard against him. Her knuckles collide with a delicious impact, and a fodder of gasps dissolve into the air. The demon stumbles, just once, his back foot catching on the ground to steady himself.

But she is already vaulting, clinging to the demon’s body as they both crashed to the ground with a painful thud! Straddling his waist, Freya cocks her fist back and prepares to strike and strike and strike. She doesn’t realize she is screaming until the grass beneath her is shivering from the force.

“Don’t,” she hisses, green-and-black eyes flaring with rage. “Do not ever touch me!”

Belphegor doesn’t move. He lays there, soft, cultivated clumps of vegetation cradling his back and legs as they remain unnaturally still. Like before, the others are frozen as well, though Freya sees Lucifer shift from the corner of one eye.

Her head whips to the side. “Stay,” she snarls. Lucifer’s face goes blank with surprise.

The command itself is profane… she does not invoke the pact between them, however, the afternoon air vibrates heavily with magical warning.

Freya turns back to Belphegor, who eyes her warily. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, so quiet is his voice. She can feel every modicum of attention seeping into her skin, but it is an afterthought.

Nothing but fire and red and blood and tears and fury broils inside her. She needs an outlet… has needed an outlet, but was too burdened by the weight of Diavolo’s request. 

He’d wanted her to help reintegrate the youngest brother back into the fold, to mend the bridge shattered long ago by hate and pain–to help prepare Belphegor for RAD’s exchange program and the future humans it would bring into the Devildom, whether that last condition was implied or not. It hadn’t mattered. When Diavolo asked you to do something, no questions were to be asked.

In all of this time, Freya knows that there’s been zero regard for her in the process. Nobody has batted an eye or worried about her acclimating back into the fold. After all, she was the one who’d been killed. She was the one who had DIED.

Freya can’t see the Devildom’s constellations above her anymore, can’t see how each alien star shivers with anticipation. Her head is too bowed, too hunched, too coiled over in fury. She never once takes her eyes off Belphegor, who remains still beneath her legs and waist.

“How does it feel?” she near-mumbles, placing a shaking hand on top of his throat. “How does it feel to be incapacitated by someone you thought you knew?” She lightly squeezes his throat with her fingers, though not enough to cut off his supply of air.

Mammon’s voice immediately sounds off behind her. “Freya, c’mon, kid… knock it off.”

A reactive growl builds in her throat at the sound. “Funny how protective you lot are when you want to be,” she nearly spits. Belphegor holds her gaze regardless, the amethyst in them swirling limply. He does not attempt to fight back.

“I asked you how it felt,” she prompts him.

Beel. “Freya—“

“It hurts,” Belphegor finally answers. “But I can’t say that I blame you. After all, I did much worse than this in the end.”

Freya’s eyes narrow dangerously at him. “Yes, you did.” She considers him thoughtfully for a moment, her head slightly cocked.

“I’m not strong enough to crush your throat the way you crushed mine.”

At this, Belphegor pales.

“But, you are.”

Her heterochromic eyes flash with a ripple of magic, glinting in the lowlight of the always-full moon and its rays. The hand upon his neck is suddenly replaced with one of his, snapping up and gripping his own trachea under the authority of her wordless, magical command.

“All right,” Lucifer snaps. “That’s enough!”

“No!” Belphegor croaks, expression blown wide open. “Leave her alone.” His eyes nervously dart back to Freya’s. “This is what I deserve.”

She sneers at him. Tangles of raven-black hair obscures much of her face, blocking most of the hateful glare she throws at him. Then a pause so quiet, Freya thinks she can hear the creaking of everyone’s jaws tightening up. “You crushed my throat with your bare hands. Did you know that before dying, I was choking on my own blood? That you squeezed so hard, I couldn’t even cough it back up again?”

The trembling spread to the rest of her, until her whole body shuddered with rage.

“You deserve much worse than this, Belphie. You deserve to die, like I did.”

A thick, gray silence smogs over them and for a moment, Freya’s expression falls, eyes and mouth slackening with the beginning of grief.

“B-But…” Leviathan stammers, “It was the other you who… died… right?” The atmosphere seemed to flicker with an unseen shock which wrapped all around them. “You existed separately from the Freya who… right?”

Freya could practically feel the brothers’ horror, sharp as a whip, crack through the air. She peered into each of their faces, wordless, speechless at the obvious fear clutching ahold of them.

“Did you truly not know?” A whisper. Her eyes close, not wanting to remember, but feeling a blade in her chest regardless. 

Another oversight. Another betrayal. Her teeth bare themselves of her own accord, and she was sure that if she were truly a demon, black wings would punch themselves through the back of her school uniform.

“I am the one who died. I remember the pain,” she murmurs, eyes drifting closed once more. “I remember the cold, the white-hot bonfire in my chest as I struggled to breathe… I remember the taste of my own blood, my throat crushed beneath two, steady hands… his laughter…”

The wordless confusion in the air screamed out, silently breaking against each of them.

“And then I passed on,” she said simply, shoulders shrugging up. “And my consciousness merged with your version of Freya. Past-me.”

The wind yells too, tossing her raven-black hair around her cheeks. “So… yes, I remember.” Freya’s voice grows dark, angry again. “I remember it all.”

“Fuck, Freya,” Satan breathes. His expression twists, a sliver of desperation flashing in his emerald eyes. “We had no idea.”

It may have been new information, but the reveal is entirely unsurprising. Freya knows how much the brothers love her. She can feel it, the magic of each pack humming through her veins. The brothers have become a literal part of her entity, and so she knows that they’d never abandon her if they’d known.

But they didn’t. And she’d been alone in life, just as she was in her death.

Hot, wet tears prick at the back of her eyes, but Freya denies them, forcefully shoving them back from where they came. This was not the time to leave herself vulnerable, no matter how much she wants to cry and heave and mourn in their arms.

She is far too angry for that.

Her jaw flexes underneath the river-waves of her hair, then loosens as her brows lower.

“You could have asked,” she says. Her voice is a hollow-boned knife. “I needed you guys to be there, but instead I was told to help him.” Her green and black eyes snap back to the demon she still straddled.

“The demon who killed me.”

The brothers are frozen again, seemingly locked into place as she speaks. 

“I hate you,” she says to the youngest brother. “I wish you were dead. And God fucking knows that I am tempted to make that real.”

Belphegor remains silent, hands by his sides, visage ghostly white and stoney throughout her monologue. Freya has never seen him this way before. Not even when she came back to life. Not even when she found out that they were practically family. This was the face of a man afraid, and there is a raging, lava river inside of her that roars with gratification.

Maybe she really is becoming a demon. However… she grits her teeth, peering down at her murderer with magic swirling in her eyes.

“But I’m not like you,” she sneers, eyes and voice hard as knives pinned to rock. “I don’t kill people because of a mood swing or because it’s funny.”

The burning prick of tears surfaces again.

“I don’t kill people and call them exquisite while they die in my hands.”

Everyone flinches.

And then she is on her feet quickly, ripping herself from Belphegor’s body as if it is poisonous to her very flesh. They hold eye contact, the surrounding brother’s attention thick and viscous, sticking onto them both and waiting. One corner of Freya’s mouth twists, like it can’t decide whether to smile or scowl at the injustice of it all.

“You are a literal Prince of Hell, Belphegor. Fucking act like it, hm?” 

But she leans down, slowly shuttering the space between her face and his. He, who still lays fearfully on the ground beneath her. 

“The next time you think about coming for me,” she breathes, “you just remember the woman you chose to bind yourself to.” 

Then her eyes unexpectedly flare, the wild magic in them releasing with all of the rage quivering along her body. Belphegor flinches, his mouth opening in horror as her irises glow brightly, unnaturally, and twist into a vivid amethyst.

The same color as his own. 

Glaring. 

Unmaking. 

A predator yearning to eat.

[darkwingphoenix]

@loominggaia Discord Opening Meme Bakery!

Because we NEED a meme bake to celebrate this momentous occasion!

Canon Skylie vs My AU Skylie

Cobalt to Skylie about Cerulea (He wanted to imprison her)

A vicious attack by Aquarian Alliance dorikori

Skylie making a buncha trauma songs and her fans vibin

POV: Sai with Maia, aged 6 months old

The day Project Starblast hit

Cobalt with Rosaria age 14

Lazuline and Cobalt meeting Skylie after like 4 years

Citrine having a rave with her friends

Saraia's War Cry

Skylie 0.01 nanoseconds after adopting Sygbarne

A gallery of Skylie's divine toddlers, babies and lil kiddos

Justinia a few hours before vs a few hours after giving birth to Amber (Yes she didn't know until after Amber was halfway outta her)

What happens to many people Skylie kills

Cobalt being a chivalrous simp for Justinia and Sai:

Collei and her 3 monster pals

Saraia when Skylie changes

Saraia with Lucy and Piper

Ei and Makoto be like (They're otherwise completely identical)(Also Saraia's siblings Piper and Lucy)

Maia as a little girl praying for a friend and Skylie forging Ajaw real quick (He ain't no angel, that much is true)

Columbina with literally anyone of the opposite sex:

The Merry Band of Idiots disguising themselves

If Saraia's people had survived into the modern age

Darshaan being goofy

A cecaelia pop band be like

One of Skylie's longest lasting dance trends, one she made up in Evangeline in 6018 and which maintained popularity across Gaia for so long it escaped association with her and became a folk dance in Evangeline

Skylie's most popular songs (Also the one she invented the above dance for)

Skylie's pet monster, forged by Yue herself

Jaq and Zov be like

Yerim-Mor peasants be like

Saraia and Skylie robbing be like

A Yue Monster be like

Skylie to Amber on her 1st birthday (She's been talking with words for 3 hours at this point)(Fireworks went off at the explosion):

Skylie, Saraia and Darshaan

Saraia to a buncha drau

Skylie and Saraia before they started dating

People reading Agony Awakens with Buddy involved

Saraia and King distracting the Folkvaran forces so the Evangelites and Damiscendii can join up

Saraia showing she's not a weakling as King is dying for the second time in 30 years

Baby Sirene at 3AM:

Darshaan poking Justice and instantly yeeting her to Umory-Ond

Skylie summoning animals to fight with her

Saraia when meeting random Evangelite men near cliffs

Alaine, Collei, Skylie, Thetos, Citrine, Glenvar, Buddy, Maia, Rosaria, Columbina, Ajaw, Paimon, and Lumine finding a random village near Evangeline Capital in a super hard-to-reach cove full of every species just fucking vibing (No one will ever believe them)

Skylie helping her brother out of a pickle

When someone picks on, bullies or harasses Skylie's kids, nieces or nephews (She shall kill them now)

Maia being a bisexual chick in Kelvingyard but going to the Grand Temple of Evangeline to repent with Rosaria and Dottore:

Maia celebrating being in a patriarchal society (She won't hafta do anything ever and can just chill)

Another time Skylie helped her baby brother (Also one of her songs)

Two people of Lost Cove (The cove the group above encountered)

Indigo meeting Skylie for the first time

Rook using her breath weapon

Saraia meeting Mr. Ocean and Solveig on Redwood Island that one time (Yes. This happened. Saraia just hasn't been asked about it, Solveig's deader than a doorknob and Mr. Ocean has brainrot and not in the Gen Alpha way)

Lumine in Doll Form and Ajaw vibing

Columbina being unstable with Signora

Skylie to Rooklet

Skylie in a Zareen store after Halloween

Skylie after Darshaan slams an elderly Evangelite woman after Evan reforms the Kingdom and the Evangelite lady complains about people adopting fae and gaians

Ajaw and Doll Lumine tryna get help for Paimon and Maia

[scarletwritesshit]

🌙 Baizhi x Xiangli Yao 🌙 Grim Stars

His body collapsed against a large rock, not exactly the most comfortable place to sit, but it was about the only thing left standing within walking distance. The immediate vicinity was almost completely flattened, and it was a miracle that his flesh and blood remained mostly intact.

Mostly was the key word here. He attempted to steady himself as he fell to the ground, but his right side was lacking any measures of providing the needed support. As for why that was the case, he hadn’t quite fully registered the reason, since his body was shocked far beyond the point of numbness. What he wasn’t numb to was the sight of a blood puddle where he would expect to see his hand resting on the ground.

A glance up the side of his body provided a simple explanation as to why this was the case. He saw the burned off sleeve of his lab coat, with nothing more than a shard of bone and charred flesh where his arm should be.

A horrid sight. Any sane person would break at the realization of their own body becoming mangled in such a way. On the contrary, why should he spend the last few minutes of his life worrying about something that no longer mattered? His close friend was gone and his endeavors were a complete and utter failure, along with the rest of the experiment. He had already accepted that he’d lost everything; losing an arm was simply part of that “everything.”

There was no use in worrying about it now. Contacting Huaxu Academy for backup would send the entire place into a disorganized frenzy for what would be absolutely no reason in the end. He took a breath as deep as his weakened lungs would allow him to in an attempt to soothe away the last of the worries still lingering in his mind. As the thoughts that overran his mind faded, the pain where his arm once was gradually got more intense. Couldn’t get away with complete peace during his last minutes, it seemed. It’s what he deserved anyways, for failing to stop what should’ve been an easily avoidable catastrophe. As the gentle breeze blew past the aftermath, so did his ambitions that he once held so close to his heart.

Everything was devoid of meaning.

All that he has achieved up until now no longer held any significance to him. Tacet field research can’t save his life. Nothing could at this point. The very thing that piqued his curiosity was now his downfall. Or maybe it was his selflessness that was the root of his failures.

He took another deep breath. The pain shot throughout his body once again. It was quite the miracle as to how his body didn’t succumb to the shock of his injuries quite yet. Perhaps it had something to do with how calm he was about accepting his fate. Too calm, one may argue. One way or another, his injuries didn’t bother him. Soon, he would feel no pain, no stress, absolutely nothing.

Xiangli Yao disregarded the stinging agony in his side and used the last of his energy to look up at the night sky. The dust had long since settled and the sky was quite clear of visual pollution considering the events that had unfolded moments prior. He had yet to lose his sight, but his eyes were starting to become blurry. One star blended into another as the night sky appeared to morph into a glittery indigo blanket over his dying body.

He was starting to feel tired.

Dying alone wasn’t exactly his ideal plan of going out. At the very least, his best friend Pascar was waiting for him on the other side. That is, if he didn’t turn Yao away for dying himself. Or for not successfully prying him away from self-destruction. A tragic worst-case scenario either way.

At least, since he was alone, nobody would have to see Xiangli Yao in such a deprived state. As the stars blended together, he still hadn’t lost his sight of the moon quite yet, which would ultimately be the last glimpse of light to ever reflect in his eyes. If it were not for the moon still shining bright, his eyes would be utterly devoid of light as he slowly began to drift off to sleep.

What was once a contagious smile was nothing more than burn marks and blood. It wasn’t out of desperation or depression, but rather, peace.

His eyes were getting heavy.

It became almost impossible to differentiate one detail from another in the sky. The scorched field seemed to blend in with the stars, and the full moon was the only thing that made the land distinct from the sky.

The pain that had been stinging his body had once more faded out of his mind. Knowing that his end was minutes away, he could finally set his mind at ease. Losing his life in the name of science. There was always a nonzero chance of such happening. Maybe one of the researchers would notice an abnormality in the readings and retrieve his body at sunrise. Maybe it would be too dangerous and they wouldn’t. What happened to his body after he passed was of no concern of his.

Through the blurriness of his vision, he saw a figure clad in black riding atop a pale creature, overshadowing the moon.

It must be coming for him.

The physical form of Death was described in a multitude of ways. Some viewed it as a king that dragged the departed to the underworld. Others depicted it as a collector of souls, or a guide leading them to their final, safe resting place. Xiangli Yao could not tell if this mysterious rider was akin to a manifestation of Death or not. In his state, he was not one to judge who or what took him away after his last breath.

The pale creature’s howl was carried with the breeze. It sounded majestic, almost as if it were too cruel to call it the steed of a soul-stealer.

Maybe Death had been viewed too cruelly by others. Maybe it just wanted to help by letting anguished souls finally find their rest.

The rider descended towards him.

There was no mistaking the mysterious figure’s goal now. He spoke, but the words were not registering in Yao’s mind. Around what was left of his arm, he felt something be placed around it, perhaps as a futile attempt to limit further blood loss. The sudden jerk of whatever was being tied around his body shocked him awake slightly. He heard the voice speak to him again, only this time, he could tell that it was not a man, but rather, a woman.

Her hair was long and black, matching the garbs she was clad in, and rode an unusually white, slender steed. Before he could make out any more details, his body finally gave into exhaustion and he collapsed into her arms.

No longer could Xiangli Yao piece together what was happening around him. Death was at long last carrying him away. Away from the regrets, his failures, everything.

His eyes closed. A smile formed on his face.

The Grim Reaper is a beautiful woman... he thought.

☾⋆⁺₊

Baizhi paced. And paced. And paced. Paced. Paced. Paced. Paced. She has dealt with her fair share of anxiety attacks over the course of working as a healer. It’s to be expected. For the most part, she was rather adept at quelling them before spiraling out of control. But no deep breath was going to do her any good right now. Not even screaming out the stress would be of any help.

Yes, she was a skilled researcher. Yes, she had You’tan’s healing powers. But she had never saved a human who was that close to death before. And who knows what the frequencies could’ve done to his vulnerable body?

You’tan could tell that she was once again distressed. It tried to give her a reassuring nudge on the shoulder, but she was too on edge. Out of everyone that it could’ve been, why did it have to be him? Anyone else, it wouldn’t have been as big of a deal (relatively to her), but Yao? The incredibly sweet, adorable genius that she hardly even had a chance to speak to face to face?

Baizhi took a deep breath. She knew that she was acting rather unreasonable, even considering the situation. Nobody could see her having a breakdown in her office. Nobody but You’tan, that is, and its little eyes were filled with almost as much distress as Baizhi’s were. She scratched the Remnant Creature on its chin and patted its nose, to try and assure it despite the lack of confidence herself.

One thing that Baizhi was going to have to concern herself with was the crafting of an entirely new arm for him. Anomalies and the human flesh were her specialties, not metals and machinery. At least other researchers in the academy were specialized in such topics, but she still had to be concerned with how the arm will take to his body, if she can even properly connect the neural pathways...

Forget all of that for now. Baizhi was just grateful that he was still breathing. If she had arrived any later, then...

She didn’t want to think about that. You’tan could sense that she was becoming increasingly distressed and nudged her once again.

"You’tan...what am I going to do," she said.

You’tan let out a little howl and gestured its head in the general direction of the medical department. It was as if it was signaling for her to go see him.

"You really think I should see Yao? Now? In his current condition?"

You’tan nodded its head.

Baizhi did work in the medical department after all. She technically did have all right to be there. In fact, she probably should be with him right now. Almost knocking You’tan out of the air, she ran out of her office and made her way to where Xiangli Yao was resting.

A most unpleasant sight she was greeted with.

Three researchers, including Mortefi, surrounded the bed that Xiangli Yao was laying in. None of them moved a muscle, or spoke a single word, and the air felt stiff and eerie.

"Did something happen? Why didn’t anyone get me?" Baizhi shouted.

She pried her way in between two researchers, but she was instantly met with just as much, if not more, disbelief as shown on the others’ faces.

"He’s a resonator," one researcher said.

"He can bend metal," another said.

"He can make his own bloody arm," Mortefi said, through his teeth.

And surely enough, where his arm was previously nothing more than shattered bone and bloody flesh, was now shiny metal in the shape of an arm.

"What do you guys think?" Yao said, lifting up his metal hand to observe it for himself.

Scratch that. A working arm made of metal.

"Ehhhhhh!?" the four researchers said in unison.

"You...but....you almost bled out!" Baizhi said, in shock.

"But I didn’t," Yao said with a smile. "And I’ve scored so much valuable raw data."

"But your arm got blown off," Mortefi pointed out very matter-of-factly.

"And that didn’t end up being a big problem."

"But you almost bled out." Baizhi said.

"I’m just a little tired."

Baizhi worried for absolutely no reason at all it seemed.

It was very likely that he was downplaying the severity of his symptoms, but perhaps becoming a Resonator would account for the life suddenly returning to his body. Granted, was still understandable as to why she worried so much, with him looking well beyond the point of his last breath on the way back to Huaxu Academy.

But here he was, allegedly just a little tired after that whole ordeal. And with that same goddamn smile that made Baizhi’s heart flutter.

You’tan could sense this as it peeked over her shoulder and happily chirped in response. Baizhi pushed it back gently, but that only made Yao smile more in response. Dammit.

"Would you all be as kind to allow me a moment alone with the Baizhi, here?" Xiangli Yao requested.

A moment alone. Surely, he just means for a routine check-up.

The other researchers nodded their heads, though still appeared incredibly dumbfounded. Mortefi stomped out, still growling something in between his teeth. It wasn’t like he didn’t have strengths of his own. Perhaps Baizhi wasn’t meant to know the answer. But he wasn’t the concern right now.

"So… how are you actually feeling?" Baizhi asked him.

"Tired. But the data is safe," Yao admitted.

"Forget the data. You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days because of it. It almost did."

Yao looked at his arm, and wiggled his artificial fingers. Sure, it was well constructed and seemed usable, but it will never be the same as human flesh.

"Come here," he asked her.

Baizhi walked closer and leaned down without a second thought. He attempted to reach his metal arm up, but appeared to be struggling to do so.

Baizhi grabbed it by his wrist and rested his palm against the side of her face.

It was cold.

Yao's expression sank. He was clearly trying to retain a smile, but a sadness filled his eyes.

"...I can’t feel anything," he said.

Not surprising in the slightest.

"It would be difficult, if not impossible, to replicate the human sensation of touch through machinery without compromising performance," Baizhi said, "at least, from a doctor’s perspective."

"All’s well. I still have one working hand."

Baizhi gently let down his metal hand and picked up his other one. She again held his palm gently against the side of her face.

It was cold.

"That...that I can feel," he said. "You feel warm."

"You feel awfully cold. Are you sure that you feel okay?"

"Just tired. I already told you, Baizhi."

"You’ve lost a lot of blood. Please, just let the research sit for a little while."

Baizhi could feel his hand slipping away from her face and his fingers going limp. In a fit of panic, she held his palm firmly against the side of her face. Yao did not seem as concerned about his deteriorating strength as Baizhi was, as it was merely tiredness that filled his eyes.

"You’re looking at me like I’m about to die," he said with a soft laugh. "Believe me, you don’t have to worry about that as I’ve already been carried away by Death once."

"What do you mean? You’re right here. Breathing. And very much alive."

"Oh, but I swear on my life that the Grim Reaper was about to take me as one of her own. She was gorgeous, much to my surprise. Long, black hair… the dark dress to match… and mounted upon a most peculiar white steed."

Baizhi blinked. That was a description suspiciously close to that of her physical appearance. And she indeed took You’tan, a white Remnant Creature, to the middle of ground zero the moment she noticed abnormal readings.

"Yao," Baizhi said, "...I don’t think that was Death carrying you off."

"How can you be so certain?"

"I was the one who bought you back to the academy. That woman you described was me, and her ‘peculiar white steed’ was You’tan."

Though heavy exhaustion, Xiangli Yao manage to smile. "Ah...that certainly explains a lot."

Explains a lot? He’s just talking about how he managed to return alive, right? This had nothing to do with his perception of him and this so-called Grim Reaper, right?

"No wonder why she looked so beautiful..." he said, before letting sleep take hold.

Baizhi lowered his hand onto his chest, but held it with both of her hands. He still felt cold, barely being warmed up with her touch. It was best for Yao to be left alone to rest, allowing for him to slowly regain his strength. He put on a bright smile thought all of this, but Baizhi could only imagine how much pain he was truly repressing.

She had more than enough questions to ask Yao, but it was better to wait for him to recover more as to not overburden his already exhausted mind. With so many tests to be ran and questions to be answered, Baizhi normally wouldn’t waste a moment in doing so. In his current condition, it seemed most unwise, so she held off on contacting the others for assistance. Even then, they probably wouldn’t listen to her, and would most likely start prying without her clearance anyways.

Better for her to stay with him, just for now. Still holding his cold hand, she sat down beside where Xiangli Yao was resting. Purely for medical reasons, she kept telling herself.

Not because she could feel his fingers gently wrap around her hand in return, no, not at all.

[xcyphoz0a]

Catharsis

Gender neutral reader, hurt-comfort TW/CW: family issues/emotional trauma Character(s): Nilou Word count: 911 Proofread: n/a | (n) the purging or release of emotional tensions, especially through kinds of art or music | A/N: hello @originalgenshinscenarios, i’m your new secret santa >:) this is for the @2023gisecretsanta !

Rushing and rapid confusion and hurt was pretty common for you.

Especially at the crack of night, when the stars would shine and the sky would turn into beautiful hues of purple, indigo and pink.

Perhaps it was due to how you felt as if you didn’t belong in your own house– your family.

Pulling yourself together in your little bed, watching as the stars contrasted your own feelings.

You felt bitter–for what good reason did the archons have for you to be in such misery while the stars in the night sky seemed to shine brighter at your own pain?

Tossing and turning around, you eventually sit up on your bed, stretching over the frame, putting your shoes on as you quietly leave your home.

Not as if they’d notice anyway, you think, taking a breath of the crisp night air of Sumeru.

You wander around the streets of the city, watching as some of the shops start to close, owners walking outside, seldom greeting you as you sit on the bench.

The last of the shops seems to close, as you stand up, taking in the silence of the usual booming city at day.

You don’t think you’d honestly find someone outside on the streets except for the few rare night owls, though you’re in a slight pleasant surprise as you find one of your closest friends taking small steps on the stone tiled streets.

“Nilou?” You really couldn’t help but call out, the striking bright red hair of hers swaying lightly in the night breeze.

The girl– Nilou, turns around as she faces you, soft aqua eyes widening faintly, watching you take hasty steps towards her.

“What are you doing here in the night? It isn’t safe…” She speaks, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

You chuckle, shaking her worry off as you reply.

“Nothing, really– just wanted to take a break from home, you know?”

Nilou tilts her head a little, smiling back in turn.

“How was your day?” You question, walking around the city as you wait for Nilou’s response.

“Really good actually! A lot of people came to the show today, and I was really happy– I still am… my parents also came to watch…”

You smile at her response, finding the way how the atmosphere around her brightened up as she was talking.

Though you couldn’t help but feel some sort of envy creeping up from deep inside of your mind, wishing that your own family would also support– at least remember you– for what you did around the city.

You were also one of the performers alongside Nilou, though your parents would always shun you for turning your back on knowledge and the Akademiya, despite what happened after some… interesting events.

What you didn’t know was how the tear unknowingly fell from your (e/c) eyes, rolling down from the line of your eye to the end of your chin.

“...(Y/n)? Are you alright?”

The soft and concerned voice of Nilou’s reaches your ears as you jerk your head, rubbing the stray tear from your face.

“Yeah, I’m alright…” Your voice is unnatrually shaky, the burning, painful feeling in your throat tempting to spill out in tears and agony.

“...I… I’m alright.” Contrast to your words, as soon as you finished talking, the tears had started, continuous and painful as you stood in the middle of the street.

Nilou stands next to you as she pats your back, not knowing what to do. She disliked her inability to help you, helplessly watching you choke out years and years of pain and turmoil through tears. Surprised too– because you were always so lively… happy and energetic. Hiccups strained to prevent someone waking up was heard as your breaths started to become uneven.

Thoughts rushed in your mind, taunting you as you felt yourself reliving every bit of painful memory that you felt in your home.

Soft gestures wiping your tears away grounds you back to reality as you blink, watching concerned aqua-blue eyes in front of you.

“Sorry, Nilou, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s alright… people need to have times to let out their pain, right?”

You nod, finding back the pace of your breathing slowly as the redhead holds your hand as she rubs the top of yours gingerly.

“You want to…uh… dance the pain away?” Nilou’s voice is unsure, anticipating some sort of negating response from your form, though in contrary, you smile as you nod, leading the both of you towards the Grand Bazaar.

Despite the lack of music, the slow yet rhythmic movements between the two of you seemed to sync, small taps and clicks of shoes on the wooden stage providing enough beats for you and Nilou to dance.

It was comforting, finding your peace in the movements of each step, the hold you had on the aqua eyed girl and back, you thought this was the moment you could finally break free of the doubts and confusion you held, wishing this moment would last forever.

You let out a contented chuckle, your eyes closing in happiness as Nilou watches you in slight surprise, finding herself letting out her own too, the bazaar filling with laughs and giggles from the two of you.

The dance ends, two of you holding each other close.

Perhaps, the mutual feeling had been shared, as you whisper.

“I love you.” Nuzzling your face into her neck as Nilou also whispers,

“I love you too”

[koukaaa-descent]

indigo lore…. Thinking about him hurts me in ways I cannot explain

You are born in agony. It is a short, momentary agony, one spent blind to the world beyond the self. It was so bright. It was so beautiful. (Gray walls. Fluorescent light. Faceless faces. Is that still beautiful?)

Murmuring voices, low and unsure. You realize that you can see—that the light has been dimmed. The shiny material of another’s visor gleams in the low light as they peer down at you.

You are alive. It is stark in the way which your ribs expand, and your heart beats. It is a vivid, awful moment of realization.

There is silence. You are on the floor. A hand reaches out, offering itself. You are afraid, but you take it anyways.

(She was always the kindest of them all.)

_

It is… smiling. (You don’t recall what it’s called). A porcelain thing atop a face, tilted with curiosity. Arms, reaching out, hand a mere moment away from your face. You think for a moment that the touch would have been gentle if not for her intervention.

A short shriek of complete defiance. The entity before you flinches away and turns, precariously wobbling on unsteady feet as it attempts to face her. But it is too late, and they are both crashing to the ground.

You begin to wonder what will happen. You begin to understand that perhaps you will never understand this feeling.

For a moment, it looks as if she has the upper hand, as if she is going to slaughter it bare-handed. She has her fingers hooked beneath the edges of the mask, ready to rip it out of the host. But there is a scream, and—

Blood. There is so much blood that you do not know what to do with yourself. Acid burns in the back of your throat but you later learn that it, too, was blood. Suddenly, the entity is the one winning. You cannot move.

She falls limp upon its body. She begins to move again. When you next see her face, there is a mask. Its surface is curled and wrinkled in a strange way that you cannot describe beyond just that—strange.

It stands. And she’s gone. She’s not there anymore.

It’s like she’d never existed in the first place.

It tilts its head at you, the same way the first did. You wonder if it knows the same things she did. If it knows that she walked a certain way, or oftentimes hung around for just long enough that you knew that you were seen.

You wonder if it knows how to sing like she did. She tried to teach you. She failed, miserably.

It stares. It turns away, swaying. Just like that, you part ways.

_

There is sunlight through the treetops, dappling the world below with fleeting glimmers of light. Stepping back here feels strange. (A lot of things are strange.)

Springtime. Life. It’s everywhere. Vines crawl up the trees, indigo flowers vivid within their blooms. You like that word. You really do.

Manticoils sing. Miles away, a Forest Keeper bellows a greeting; to what, you did not know. (Perhaps it recognizes you.) The Hawks squeal and chatter a while away, hanging in the treetops. There is something small inside of the bushes.

There is something small inside of the bushes.

It feels like the forest is very quiet as you carefully walk through the brush. It is not, though; it’s only imagination. But it feels quiet. Even the sound of your own footsteps is muffled. There is something small in the bushes.

It is so small. You do not understand why you feel this way.

It raises its head, impossibly feeble. It manages a short, warbling coo.

You do not understand why you feel this way. You walk back to the ship with something small cupped in your hands, warbling and chattering the entire way back.

(Indigo. That is a good name.)