#it seems heavy on judgement and light on mercy

[fictionadventurer]

Okay, yeah, the ending kind of ticks me off.

[angel-anachronism]

Virtuous Cycle (male! oc x gn! reader) (DARK) (I/III)

"I HOLD MYSELF IN CONTEMPT!"

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: obsessive behaviours, angsty (NO ROMANCE, THIS IS MEANT FOR HORROR/THRILLER PURPOSES), reader is only mentioned

3rd January, 1941,

??? point of view

The courtroom was suffocating to me, as the stale air hung heavy with judgement. The judge, a stern figure dressed in black robes, stared down at me from his elevated perch as if trying to peer through the deepest parts of my soul.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the cold, unforgiving wood beneath me serving as a reminder of the atrocities I've committed, the actions I've made only for them. My eyes darted around the room, seeking any form of escape, only for my hope to be shortly cut off by the dark atmosphere and judging eyes of people I didn't know and knew.

The prosecutor, a man with a cold and merciless gaze, rose from his seat like a vulture circling its prey. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," He acknowledged, the audience's gaze following him, no longer looking at me with those terrifying glares. "we stand here today to unveil the face of a killer. A man who, in cold blood, extinguished the light of innocence."

The words echoed in the room and through my head, amplifying the dreadfulness that clawed my conscience. I could feel the weight of the accusations pressing down on me, threatening to consume me whole. Desperation clawed at my throat as I tried to find the right words, the words that would make them understand.

"Viator Goodwin," the prosecutor sneered, emphasizing each syllable as if trying to etch my name into a stone wall. "A man who, by all accounts, appeared to be just ordinary. Truly a wolf in sheep's clothing."

The air in the room grew thicker with each passing moment, thick enough to cut it with a knife if possible. The eyes of the spectators bore into me like a thousand needles through my heart. I knew I had to speak, had to make them understand the torment that had driven me to commit the unspeakable. With a confident voice, I raised my right hand. "Your honour, I plead insanity."

Murmurs of disbelief swept through the room, the judge's eyes narrowing at my proclamation. "Insanity, Mr Goodwin? Do you truly believe that defence will pardon you of your sins?"

I looked into the judge's eyes, pleading for mercy that I knew wouldn't come if I didn't play my cards right. After all, I couldn't plead for my innocence, after everything I had done for that tempter, that liar that should've been my spouse by now. Oh, if only they could've accepted my love, none of this would've happened. Not one innocent's blood would've been spilt if only they could've been mine. "Your Honour, I...I was driven to madness. The darkness consumed me, and I lost control of my actions. I had a good heart, I was seldom insane until that demon possessed me!"

The judge leaned back, his gaze unwavering. "The court will hear your defence, Mr. Goodwin, but know this: the so-called "demon" that led you astray will not shield you from the consequences of your actions."

As I began recounting the torturous descent into the abyss that had become my life, the room seemed to close in around me. The echoes of my words full of despair bounced off the walls, creating a silent room of people whose families were the victims of the massacre I had created with my own two hands. In this cold, unforgiving courtroom, I stood alone, condemned by the very darkness created in my soul, that had whispered its malevolent promises into my fractured core.

As I spoke, the room fell silent, the gravity of my words hanging like a veil. "Your Honour," I began, my voice laced with desperation, "the actions I committed were caused by (Y/N) (L/N) who unravelled the fragile threads of my sanity. They wove their influence into the very fabric of my judgement, and I became their puppet, dancing to the sick and twisted tune they created."

I could see their family in the distance, looking at me in disbelief, as if I uttered Satan's name. The murmurs rippled through the courtroom as the spectators gave me the same look (Y/N)'s parents gave me. It was true, (Y/N) was known as the sweetest person in town, always helping those in need, always being polite, and always being kind. Oh, how they couldn't see through their facade, that mask of beauty they have always worn, to hide the rotting soul they had underneath.. The judge's gaze remained stern.

"(Y/N) (L/N)," I continued, my words dripping with bitterness, "a siren in the disguise of innocence. They lured me into the abyss with their honeyed words and enticing smile. I was but a moth attracted to the flame, and in their presence, reason abandoned me."

I could feel the eyes of the jury on me, judging my every word the prosecutor's scepticism was evident, and I could sniff the mockery in the air, taste the shame I would have to endure if I didn't act adeptly. But I pressed on, unravelling the tale of that siren's seduction and the subsequent descent into madness that led me to commit heinous acts.

"They bewitched me, Your Honour, with promises of love. I was trapped in their web, a willing victim to the poison that dripped from their lips," I declared, my hands trembling with the weight of my confession.

The prosecutor rose, his voice cutting through the silence. "Your Honour, the defendant's attempt to shift the blame onto one of the massacre victims is nothing more than a desperate ploy. We must seek justice for the lives he has taken, not to entertain baseless accusations"

The judge nodded solemnly, signalling for me to continue with my defence. Oh how much I hate this prosecutor. If only I could cut his tongue. The room hung in suspense as I recounted the relationship I had with (Y/N) (L/N) before everything went downhill, that cursed name rolling on my tongue like a sickeningly sweet bon-bon, each word a damning testimony to the insanity that slowly took over me. The prosecutor's objections echoed, but I painted a vivid picture of their influence, leaving the courtroom flabbergasted.

As I finished my tale, the judge's expression hardened. "Mr. Goodwin," he declared, "your attempt to lay blame elsewhere does not absolve you of the crimes you committed. The courtroom will consider your plea of insanity, but rest assured, you shall be condemned to the electric chair, for you have committed the worst sin to have ever been bestowed in this courtroom: homicide. 8 people dead, 5 injured."

I could feel fury bubble up inside of me. How could they immediately sentence me to my death?! "But sir, can't you understand? I'm an insane man, driven to madness by that bitch! I should be sent to the infirmary! For the sake of humanity, they deserved to die of their blight! That seducer deserved everything that happened to them!"

The judge didn't seem too pleased with the way I acted. "One more word out of you, Mr Goodwin, and I'll hold you in contempt."

"I HOLD MYSELF IN CONTEMPT!"

Hello my lovelies, thank you for reading this short story I created in the middle of the night. Please remember to reblog if you enjoyed it, as I'm going to make a part II and III once I get 100 notes. Toodles! ~Luce

[comfort-questing]

alt. lightning strike

a little Genshin Impact... because what else?

-

so long ago, it had been - that first day he had truly felt the lightning.

no one who lived in Inazuma was any stranger to lightning, to be sure. the Yashiori sky was riddled with its spikes, the Kannazuka waters sick with it; it had eaten Seirai without mercy, the thunder spirit laughing unchallenged in the hole far above the island. and in Inazuma City the queen of the lightning herself sat on her implacable throne, with judgement for wrongdoers at her right hand.

but Tomo had his own lightning, from the amethyst gleam of the Vision he bore. and so this time it was up close, within Kazuha's reach, a static that set his hair frowsy sometimes when he hugged Tomo in the mornings, a bright crackle of danger at his side when they fought thieves or monsters.

"you should be careful, when we fight." that much Tomo had always told him, since the very beginning. "your winds could catch my Electro and join it with some other element... and that would be a fine mess for us both."

he knew that. he knew careful and how it went. he knew the wind well enough that it would not betray him, all the more now that his Vision gave him not just camaraderie with it but cooperation and command. so he nodded, and made sure to stay beyond the reach of Tomo's attacks, as ordered.

-

but that day he had been clumsy - both of them had been, a little. sleepy from a long traveling day, the evening drawing low and cold around them, every rocky hide on the seashore not quite enough to keep the chill off their backs. he'd turned his ankle on a stone somewhere and it twinged every few steps, the unsteady sand shifting beneath their feet as they went. Tomo was tired beyond speech as well, eyelids heavy; the little cat nestled within his scarf with one paw dangling loosely out, pink toes spread.

"this will do," Kazuha said at last, after the fourth or fifth attempt at picking a camping site. the wind still found them there, but at least there was a low pocket between two rock spurs to light a fire, and some shelter beneath the scrubby salt-lashed trees. "I'll find us some supper, if you want to build the fire."

Tomo nodded and yawned, forcing the edge of a smile. "eels?"

eels would be tasty, roasted with salt, wrapped in seagrass. Kazuha lay by the tide line and listened for the imperfections in the waves, the pop of tiny creatures entering and exiting their hole homes.

listened so hard to the waves and the ground, it seemed, that he had forgot to listen to the air - and so it was Tomo's hoarse shout that warned him first, as he spun to see the brown miasma of the Specter hovering above him, its tendrils reaching out for him as it drew in strength for its attack.

and then white-hot, bitterly cold pain locked up every muscle in his body, his sight going gray and hazy, his lungs seizing in his chest. he gasped, but couldn't make his body obey him; he felt his heart skip and stutter, his knuckles cramping and jumping where his hands dug into the damp sand without feeling it.

only the pain, and the purple glint of Electro, and someone screaming his name.

the next clear thing he knew, Tomo was there, eyes wide in a ghostly face above him. he'd bundled his scarf around Kazuha and tucked a fold between his teeth, salty with sweat and seaspray. Kazuha tried to speak, his tongue horridly thick in his mouth, but Tomo's desperate voice went on and on despite his silence

"Kazuha. I shouldn't have - but I saw the Specter and I was - I was afraid - I didn't think I could get there in time - so I used my Vision and - "

Electro and water combined. he hadn't even needed the wind, this time, to make disaster. his head pounded, eyes refusing to focus, Tomo's face wobbly above.

"I'm - alive," he finally managed, "I'll - be better soon."

Tomo's arms tightened around him, a steady warmth amidst the tilting confusion of the world, and Kazuha felt the tremors beginning to release him a little, his breath coming easier.

"I'm sorry, sorry," Tomo was saying into his ear, "I didn't think, I'm so sorry."

in the end, it was Tomo who caught the eels that night, as well as building the fire - while Kazuha lay shaky and weak in their crevice of a campsite, letting the ache of overstrained muscles relax as best he could, with the cat curled up between his arm and side. and Tomo, too, who fed him bits of eel meat just as he would feed the cat, and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

-

it must have felt a little like that, Kazuha thought - long after, but not long enough. the Musuo no Hitotachi, parting soul and body, calling the lightning down through the sword of the divine. he had been too late, too late that day; Tomo had never had the chance to feel his hand on his hair, or the warmth of an embrace to release him from the grip of that pain.

sometimes, he thought that that would have been less cruel. less cruel for Tomo, and perhaps for himself as well. to have a moment of stillness among the tumult, as they had that night between the rocks on the shoreline, brief as it may have been. he could picture it in his mind, or write songs of it as if it had happened, but in the end Tomo had been alone under the lightning's fall, an unendurable and unchangeable truth.

someday, Kazuha knew, he would tell Tomo the same things he'd been told once, when they met once again in a morning beyond guessing:

I was afraid. I didn't think.

I'm so sorry.

[wrrdbrrd]

4 - Divine

“-aaaarge!”

Sir Roderic came to a sudden and unsteady stop. He was fairly certain he had been somewhere else just now. Somewhere with a lot more noise, and people, and bloodthirsty energy.

The sky was no longer blood-red with smoke and fire. It was a clear, uniform blue from horizon to horizon, and the flat plane on which he stood was no longer made of grass and mud. It was in fact very white and fluffy. Sir Roderic looked down at his armoured boots and shifted his weight experimentally. It was soft, and some of it actually drifted over the tops of his feet like mist.

There was someone seated at a desk in front of him. Had they always been there? Sir Roderic blinked hard. They didn’t seem to be going away again. In fact, they were looking directly at him with a polite, neutral, slightly curious expression on their face.

They looked more or less human, if humans had huge feathery wings on their back and glowed with an internal golden light. They were beautiful in a way that defied gender and made Sir Roderic feel uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

It was, all in all, the kind of tableau that rendered questions like “where am I?” and “who are you?” rather unnecessary.

“Ah,” he said, instead.

“Yes,” said the angel. “Sir Roderic, is it? Of the Holy Order of Our Lady’s Mercy?”

Sir Roderic realised he was pointing his sword directly at the figure. He lowered it somewhat sheepishly. “’Tis I.”

“Right on time,” the angel said. From a drawer in the desk, they produced a large, heavy-looking book and began leafing through it.

“How did I…?” Sir Roderic found he couldn’t quite finish the question.

“Cannonball,” the angel said, quite gently. “Directly to the torso, I believe. It was quite instantaneous and you didn’t feel any pain.”

Sir Roderic thought about that for a moment. “That’s a relief,” he managed.

“I’m sure.” The angel licked their index finger and turned one more page. “Now, we do have a judgement to get through before we can let you in.”

“In?”

The angel jerked their head at a large double door off to the right. It wasn’t obviously attached to any walls or other structure. “In there. It’s a very simple process, we’re just going to check your record against the Commandments to see how you did. It’s a formality, really.”

This was suddenly much more reassuring. Sir Roderic knew exactly how devout he had been. He puffed out his chest and awaited the angel’s judgement.

“Let’s see here,” the angel said, studying the book carefully. “Have no other gods, no problem there.” They gave Sir Roderic a reassuring little smile before returning their attention to the page. “Graven images, you never were much of an artist, good for you. Thou shalt not… mm-hmm, check, check, check, so far looking very good indeed, Sir Roderick.”

The knight smiled behind his waxed moustache.

“Ah. Now. Killing,” the angel said. “There is the matter of these thirty-seven enemy soldiers. Anything to say for yourself on that point?”

This was a cunning test, Sir Roderic realised. He fixed his gaze somewhere over the angel’s head and declared, “They were enemies of God!”

“Funnily enough,” the angel said, “every single one of them made the exact same allegation about you.”

For the first time in many years, the cold spectre of Uncertainty placed its clammy hand on Sir Roderic’s shoulder.

“But it was… commanded…”

“Was it?” The angel manifested a small pair of spectacles on their face and peered closer at the page. “‘Thou shalt not kill…’ hm-hm-hm… Ah, yes, sub-paragraph b(iii). ‘Unless you think they are enemies of God. Then, by all means, go for it.’”

A puzzled little frown crept onto Sir Roderic’s face. He said nothing.

The angel looked up over their spectacles at him. “That’s not actually in there, to be clear. Bit of a messy business, this. We’ll have to run it up the chain, see what the boss has to say about it. As for the rest of record, thou hast not… good, good, good. Ah. Coveting thy neighbour’s ass. Anything to say there?”

Killing was one thing, but Sir Roderic was quite sure about his obedience to the rest of the rules. He managed to find some reserve of indignation that hadn’t been frozen solid by existential terror yet. He scoffed. “I’ve never done such a thing!”

“No? What about Sir Edmond of your company? Ring any bells?”

“He doesn’t even have a donkey!”

The angel quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “I wasn’t talking about the animal.”

Sir Roderic’s bottom lip trembled. His eyes began to water.

The angel chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, we don’t actually care about that one. Just a little something to keep you on your toes. That killing business, though, that is quite serious. I’m afraid it’s going to disqualify you from direct entry.”

A low moan escaped Sir Roderic’s lips. He dropped to his knees, shaking with terror, and reached out towards the angel as he finally looked them directly in the eyes. “No! Please! I repent! I’ve been a faithful servant! I don’t deserve eternal torture!”

“Oh, for the love of – no, obviously, nobody deserves that. We’ll – there, there, please don’t cry. Oh, dear. We’ll put you through some remedial – oh, I say.” The angel patted the sobbing Sir Roderic awkwardly on the head. “Please don’t pull on the robes. If they tear, it will be literal hell to get them mended. I’m sure you’ll be allowed in soon enough, give it just a few hundred years or so. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of people to get through today, lots of people on both sides to process. Yes. Just down those stairs, there. Take your time. Good man. Well, not that good, but we’ll get you there. Have a nice day.”

[fantastical-affairs]

Chasing Shadows - Part 11

Evangeline has protected Lona ever since their parents passed away. When Lona is kidnapped by a shadow in the dead of night, Evangeline sets off to find her, despite knowing her journey will take her past the Border, where no human has walked in centuries. Finding aid in unlikely places, she and her companions must unravel the truth of Artera’s long-forgotten past and how it connects to Lona’s kidnapping.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve

I do not consent for my work to be copied, reposted or plagiarised. All parts of the work belong to me, the author.

Evangeline stared suspiciously at the éan’s back as they led them through tunnel after tunnel. Despite his insistence that they were taking them both somewhere safe—their ‘home’—Evangeline felt her doubt growing. Just what kind of home could the éan have underground? It was completely barren.

While she didn’t doubt Callan’s judgement that they were safer underground, away from the horned beasts, she couldn’t help but think it was just trading one problem for another. A slow death by dehydration and starvation rather than a quick one. Still, if worse comes to worst, they could just follow the éan back up to the surface. It was likely that they needed food and water just as much as she and Callan did.

With that plan made, Evangeline found herself strapped of things to think about. The tunnels and caves were completely still, save for the echo of their footsteps. The silence was gnawing, allowing unwanted thoughts to cloud her head.

Lona…

Evangeline had heard stories of ‘horned beasts’ from beyond the Border. Big, awful creatures that killed without mercy, sneaking into villages and spiriting away children into the night. Tall tales, she originally thought, meant to scare children into behaving and reminding people why the Border was needed.

But they were real, and they were exactly like the tales had described. What Callan had told her proved that. The feel of the knife in her boot suddenly weighed heavy. She didn’t want to believe that creature was what took Lona. If it was then…

The way Callan had reacted to her question, she knew what he was thinking. If one of those things took her sister, then she was probably dead.

But she was. Evangeline knew she was. If Lona were dead, she would feel it. So,Lona was alive. She had to be.

With that, Evangeline focused instead on the rhythm of their footsteps on stone. She’d think no more on the matter.

Suddenly, the éan stopped. Head of them was the mouth, which opened into a wider tunnel. The éan cocked their head and listened. Seemingly hearing nothing, they said something over their shoulder before carefully inching forward.

The wider tunnel was dark, their surroundings lit only by the éan’s blue crystal, which had been getting dimmer for some time. Ahead of them was the mouth of the tunnel, which glowed with a faint light.

When they reached the mouth, Evangeline’s eyes grew wide at what she saw. Before her was a huge cavern. The faint light she’d seen were blue crystals growing from the ceiling, which illuminated the city below. The buildings in front of her look cobbled together, as if the people just began building on top of already existing structures when they needed more room. This was evident from the several tall towers emerging from the cluster like stalagmites.

And it was all visible to see, as the floor of the cavern seemed to slope upwards. Beyond the cluster, there was a part of the city that seemed far neater, more similar to the towns and cities that Evangeline knew. The streets were lit by a cool light, and the houses no more than two or three stories.

If she squinted, she could see a steep cliff face and atop it, a looming black spire. She barely noticed the extravagant buildings surrounding the spire before glancing away quickly. Whatever was in that spire meant bad news for her and Callan.

Suddenly it occurred to her. This whole thing was a bad idea. From what Callan had briefly said to her on their trip down, éan hadn’t been seen by anyone for a long time. They didn’t want outsiders. The fact that they lived in isolation underground made that abundantly clear. They wouldn’t be friendly if they found a human and gaoithe sneaking into their city.

And how would they sneak in? While Evangeline could be passed off as éan if she hid in her cloak, Callan definitely could not.

Suddenly, the éan dashed from the tunnel mouth and into the shadow of the buildings before them. Before Evangeline could protest, she felt Callan pushing at her back, and she followed after the éan, with him close behind. Once they reached them, the éan guided them down dark alleyway, with only the light of their crystal to see by.

Blinking to adjust to the darkness, she followed as the éan led them up a set of steeps stairs. While waiting for Callan to climb them, Evangeline noticed that she was standing on a thick sheet of slate. Peering around her, she realised that the floor was cobbled mess of slate, stone bricks and tarp interconnecting the stacked buildings to create multiple levels of “streets”. Given how dark it was, these layered streets likely persisted for multiple levels up.

Once Callan found his footing, the éan led them through the maze of streets, leading them up level after level in a seemingly random direction. And yet they walked with purpose. Eventually, they pocketed the crystal they were holding, and Evangeline realised the level they were on was slightly lit from above.

Up one more set of stairs and they reached the topmost level. This level had a few towers emerging from the ground, but assumedly they were too far from each other for more levels to be built.

The éan moved towards the nearest tower, a rickety looking thing only two stories higher than the top level. The first story had a crumbling set of steps coming out of its side, leading up to the last story, a shabby stone shack with a curtained doorway.

When Evangeline climbed the steps, she found the éan holding the curtain aside. Only once she and Callan entered did the éan come in.

The inside was neat and organised, a surprise when comparing it to the shacks outward appearance. Each corner was dedicated to different tasks of a household. Once corner had food and cookware, another had a large stone chest, and another a mattress. In the centre of the room was a firepit with a grate overtop it. The shack had windows, all covered with raggedy curtains.

Seems like the éan intentionally made the shack look decrepit and abandoned. Again, Evangeline was struck with how much danger they would be in should anyone find out they were here.

Suddenly, she heard a thump behind her.

Whipping around, she found Callan laying on his side by the firepit. Running up to him, straining to see in the dim shack, she found blood pooling at his side.

Her shout caught the attention of the éan, as they quickly appeared beside her, holding a yellow glowing crystal. Now able to see, she found he was bleeding from several deep gashes on his thigh.

Unable to see what she saw, they stepped forward into the pool of blood, jumping back in alarm, realising what they’d stepped in.

Ignoring them for a moment, Evangeline moved to Callan’s head. Checking over it, she sighed when she only saw a bump. He could have a concussion but at least he hadn’t split his head open on the edge of the firepit. She spotted the pillow on the éan’s mattress, and shot over to grab it, laying it under Callan’s head.

Once done she stilled, looking over the gaoithe before her. She had no love for gaoithe, hated them with a burning passion…

But… This one had helped her. Had saved her life and subsequently risked his own. His wounds were proof of that…

She steeled herself. Gaoithe or not, a debt was owed. She would do her best to help him.

She groaned, rubbing her hands over her face. She had no supplies to help Callan. The only person who might was the éan. Who couldn't understand Arteran, and from what Callan had told her, also couldn’t see. Evangeline wracked her brain, wondering if the éan would even have anything of use, considering they were living underground.

“Help,” she suddenly heard. Whipping around, she saw the éan hopping up to her with a wrapped cloth between their claws. Dropping it by her, she grabbed it hastily, opening it to find a needle and suture thread. Glancing up, she found them hopping back towards her, cloths cradled in their wings and a waterskin clutched in their claws.

“Help,” they said again, and Evangeline realised they were somehow speaking Arteran. Dropping the items next to her, they uncapped the waterskin and began pouring water over Callan’s wounds, then picked up the cloth and began dabbing away the blood.

Shaking off the shock, she grasped one of the needles and threaded the end of the suture thread through it, cutting off a length with her knife.

“Ok, you clean, I stitch. Let’s help him,” she said, briefly wondering if the éan could even understand her. Pushing away that thought, she focused on Callan’s wound. With a deep breath, she began.

The éan city is one of my favourite parts of the world. I'm so glad I get to show you guys. :D

[isindismay]

Go Straight to Hell

Death Note

No archive warnings apply

T

Gen

Light talks to a priest about the fate of Kira’s soul after death while Ryuk checks out the communion wafers.

“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to burst into flames, Light?” Ryuk says, hovering behind as Light walks up the path to the church.

“Aren’t -you-?” Light shoots back.

Ryuk laughs as Light tries the handle and pushes open the heavy wooden door. He steps over the threshold and turns to Ryuk, raising his eyebrows and spreading his arms to show how not on fire he is. He inclines his head to the shinigami, who is lingering just outside. “Afraid?” he says.

“Nah,” Ryuk says, twisting his body to fit through the doorway.

As Light checks his watch, Ryuk looks around at the crucifixes and candles. “I gotta admire the style of this place. Some of this stuff wouldn’t look outta place in the shinigami realm,” he says.

“Hmm, really?” Light says, but his mind is elsewhere.

Light walks down the central aisle and takes a seat on one of the pews. He puts his hands together as if in prayer.

A few moments pass, then a priest takes a seat beside him. “Something troubling you, my son?” he says, touching Light’s shoulder.

“Yes, there is actually,” Light says, dropping his hands. “I expect by now you will have heard of Kira.”

The priest stares straight ahead. “Indeed I have. What a foolish person they are. Only God may judge the sins of the mortal.”

Ryuk laughs as he floats towards the front of the church, looking around.

“Mm,” Light says, trying to keep a straight face as Ryuk has found the communion wafers and appears to be weighing up whether they are edible.

“There’s something I’ve heard about Kira. He made a deal with a shinigami for the power to kill those who have gone unpunished for their crimes. And as a result, when Kira dies, his soul can no longer go to heaven or hell,” Light says.

Ryuk tosses a communion wafer in the air and catches it in his mouth. Light pretends to cough to hide a laugh. “Do you think that’s true?” he asks.

“Well, my child, a murderer such as Kira would certainly never make it into heaven. It is in the book of…” Light struggles to concentrate on the priest’s words as Ryuk is making choking sounds and grasping at his throat. It seems the wafers are not edible after all.

Light covers his mouth with his hand and composes himself. “But what if he repented? Prayed for mercy before he died? Does God not grant forgiveness to those who ask for it?”

The priest folds his hands over the back of the pew in front. He is staring, unseeing, straight at Ryuk. “Perhaps in ordinary circumstances, but I don’t believe even God could find it in his infinite benevolence to forgive such a heinous mass murderer.”

“Actually I don’t care what you think,” Light says. “You won’t be around much longer. And if there is a hell, that’s where you’re headed.”

The priest’s eyes widen. “What?” he says. “H-how do you know so much about Kira anyway?”

Light smirks darkly. “I think you’ve already guessed. I am Kira.”

“But- but I- I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Tell that to all those children whose lives you ruined.”

“No! That was a false accusation!”

“Everyone knows you paid off that judge.”

“I didn’t!”

Light smiles humourlessly. “I’ll give them time to find your body and report your death. Let that crooked judge sweat a little. Then Kira will pass judgement on him too.”

The priest’s eyes have glazed over. Light checks his watch. The priest stands and goes to find a piece of paper and a pen, then sits back down on the pew in front of Light. Light watches as he writes a confession and leaves it on top of a Bible.

Ryuk, now finished with his exploring, has returned to Light’s side. He sprawls out on the pew beside him and they both watch as the priest slowly makes his way up the aisle to the altar. The priest takes a goblet, raises it in the air reverently, then puts it down and fills it with communion wine. Then he raises it again, makes the sign of the cross and tips the goblet of wine over himself. A flood of red liquid cascades over his head and soaks his robes.

Ryuk laughs. “Oh Light, don’t you think this is a bit tacky?”

“Not at all,” Light says, standing up as the priest knocks a candle to the floor. The flame ignites the end of his robes and starts to spread and dance upwards. “Kira must send out a clear message, after all.”

The flames rise higher and the priest starts to scream. Backlit by the raging fire, Light walks out of the church with Ryuk. The crackling of the flames and the screams of the priest grow louder.

[hemsworthfootslave]

The Tyrant Thor's New Doormat

Disclaimer: This is a TF story inspired by a series that was written by the amazing @inanimatetffantasies. I suggest you all to read all his Mighty Thor captions before reading this one!

Content: (doormat) TF

Thor had just left his chambers to get ready for his weekly parade. He had these parades held to make sure that his human pets didn't forget to praise their God and Savior. You had been kneeling at your post in the Throneroom, waiting for your God to leave to start your most important task of the day.

You felt the ground shaking and bowed down as Thor passed you with his chamber slaves crawling behind him, ready to serve him at every whim. When he was out of sight, you came out your bowing position and started crawling to your starting point.

Your main task everyday was to clean the floors of the Throneroom. You were considered one of the more competent ones, being one of the only ones not to be replaced within a year from all the thousands of posts throughout the palace.

While crawling you first followed the massive sweaty footprints that Thor had left behind, the musky smell making your head light. You quickly lapped up every footprint, the guards chuckling at this display before starting your daily task.

5 hours later, you finally were done. The ground started shaking more intensely by the second, which was the sign that your God almost arrived at the Palace. You knelt down at the Throneroom-door and bowed down again as the 2 guards opened the door.

Thor walked in with his heavy boots, he walked past you and you immediately went to work again. Thor always came in with his boots dirty, which meant that the floors that you had just cleaned would be stained again. That's why you crawled behind him hastily cleaning the dirty footprints he left behind before he would sit on his throne.

Thor sat on his throne and inspected his throneroom. Your heart beat out your chest, waiting for his judgement. Then he finally nodded to his guards, which meant that the floors were properly cleaned. He never acknowledged you, hell; you only dared to look at him when he gave his approval or disapproval.

After a few seconds of enjoying farting into the rebels-turned fart cushion, Thor snapped his fingers and 2 slaves appeared. "Your God is tired from the long day He has had. Clean my boots from the filth slaves." They immediately went to work.

You were still bowing down but couldn't help but take quick glances at the slaves lapping at his Mighty boots. You were jealous, those slaves were so lucky to be so close to their God. After what seemed like the 100th glance, you suddenly were met with deep blue eyes. You immediately looked away as your face went crimson red.

You heard the loud finger-snapping from Thor again and yelped as you felt yourself being lifted up. You looked at the smirking guards in panic before looking down at the floor. You had fucked up. You now were kneeling in front of Thor'a throne. You immediately bowed down again, hoping for your God's mercy.

Then a chuckle was heard that shook the whole palace. "Little pet of Mine, you have not displeased your God, so do not worry. I can feel your whole little fragile body shaking from fear. It has come to my attention that you have taken a liking to my Mighty boots?" You sat up and nodded obediently, still avoiding eye-contact. You immediately thought about the possibility of him turning you into his boots. That would be a dream, but then you remembered that he already rewarded slave#7293 (slave Cory) with this gift.

A chuckle was heard again. The ground started shaking as you looked at your God's legs moving up from his throne. He was walking towards you. You immediately bowed down as you felt the Godly presence of Thor before you. You could see his boots inches from your head.

You heard a snap from his fingers and you suddenly were met with the ceiling of the Throneroom. You had been turned onto your back. Then your God appeared in your vision as his blue eyes pierced into you. You asserted your gaze even though it was almost impossible.

What happened next isn't what you would have ever imagined. An unbearable weight suddenly was felt on your stomach. You looked down to see Thor's boots on your body; he was standing on you. You now couldn't help but look up as Thor looked back with a grin. "It has come to my attention that my little pet has been disappointed about not being turned into my Mighty Boots." He grinned and you became even redder, he had read your mind. "Unfortunately, that blessing has already been given, but you, my little slave, have been loyal to your Allmighty God, so I shall reward you."

He took another step on your chest, your grunting increasing. This made him chuckle again. "It is quite amusing how you are struggling with this weight when I have reduced my Godly weight to make sure you weren't going to explode. But also, it seems like you enjoy being trampled on, don't you slave?"

You didn't know what your God was talking about, but then you realized; you were hard as a rock. You had been so busy trying to remain still with the unbearable weight on your body that you didn't realize how arousing you found this. "Instead of you cleaning the dirt, I will give you the privilege of your God quickly cleaning his boots on you."

Before you could even process what he said, you suddenly looked down and.... his boots were going into you? No... your stomach was flattening... no... your whole body was flattening. You panicked as you felt yourself becoming shorter.... were you shrinking? No.... you felt yourself becoming wider as well. Suddenly you didn't feel your legs or arms anymore and the weight of Thor's heavy boots on your chest was disappearing too. You suddenly realized that your face was the only thing that was left, but your face wasn't going to be untouched.

You felt your tongue being forced outside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you felt it widening... ALOT! It was like your tongue was rolled like dough to the point that it covered your whole face but your eyes. Your tongue also turned into a.... brown colour? Realization hit: you were going to become a doormat for your God.

The transformation stopped. Thor looked down at his new doormat before stepping on it. You felt dirt collecting on your tongue as he took his first wipe, the weight being unbearable as you your tongue smushed against the rest of your face. You were estactic though. You were now closer than ever to your God.

"You will make a fine doormat for your God. If I feel satisfied enough about the cleaning of my boots after wiping them on you, I will regularly rewards you with some wipes of my sweaty dirty barefeet after walks in my royal garden. Now collect the rest of this dirt to thank me." He laughed wiping his Godly boots some more times until he was satisfied, teleporting you to the Palace door exclusive to the Almighty Tyrant Thor. You were going to serve him until he didn't find anymore use of you.

[fanfictwins]

DRV3 - Halloween Special 2022

Summary: "As a young enthusiastic ghost hunter, you'd go to the ends of the earth in order to find proof of paranormal life. Luckily, you just have to go to a certain Ultimate Academy instead."

Word Count: ~15k

“Okay… just up and over, and-”

You launched yourself off of the cold metal of the fence, landing on your feet with a thump before immediately going to steady yourself, the heavy bag resting on your back threatening to tip you over if you didn’t.

“...I’m in.”

The area beyond the fence was dark — you were here in the dead of night, so that was to be expected — but it seemed like the moon above was giving you just enough light to let you see where you were going without the use of a flashlight; since waving one around out here would be a surefire way to bring attention to yourself and get yourself caught, you appreciated anything that helped you to stay under the radar of anyone who might be watching this place.

You weren’t sure what exactly the punishment for trespassing was, but since there were various “Do Not Enter” signs posted around the property and a tall fence with a locked gate, you knew that there was something awaiting those caught sneaking onto the grounds.

Shrugging your shoulders, you slid your bag off of your back and brought it around to set it on the ground in front of you before unzipping it. You shuffled through your items, eventually grabbing your camera — the battery fully-charged for the night ahead, with extra batteries packed just in case — and turning it on.

“Hey, hey, everybody!” You smiled, pointing the camera at your face. “I’m officially within the borders of the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles, and I’m ready to get hunting!”

You set the camera down next to you as you dug around in your bag again, this time grabbing one of the flashlights you had brought with you; while the outside of the academy was illuminated by moonlight, there was no guarantee the inside would be the same. You also strapped a pair of night-vision goggles to your head, an extra precaution should something happen to your flashlights, while the rest of your tools remained in your backpack for later.

After slinging your backpack over your shoulders again, you grabbed your camera from where it sat on the ground and pointed it forward. “Alright, let’s get going!”

You surveyed the area around you, comparing it to the map you had looked at beforehand and committed to memory after hours of staring at it in preparation for your trip; based on what you were seeing, you were currently standing in the area opposite to the actual school building. You would have been surprised at how big the property was if it weren’t for the fact that it apparently served as the grounds of a private academy for the crème de la crème of high school students.

The Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles was supposedly some fancy school that exceptionally talented teenagers attended to hone and perfect their talents, securing them a successful future as adults after graduation, but, according to your research, the place only operated for a few years before it shut down. The remains of that promising place were left to the mercy of time, eventually breaking down into the decrepit disappointment before you now.

But you didn’t really care about that.

You were here to hunt for ghosts, not mourn a privileged educational facility that failed to survive; the depressing aura of broken hopes and dreams was actually what pulled you here — you would have preferred something along the lines of murder or other tragedies that ended in death, but your research unfortunately revealed a lack of anything like that — since that kind of aura would definitely attract something that would reside within the crumbling halls.

And you were going to find it.

- - - - -

“Okay, folks, the first place to check out is this building called the… “Shrine of Judgement”? I don’t know why it’s called that, but that’s what the map said the name was.”

Your pace was steady as you moved towards your first destination — the round building closest to where you had entered the property — as your gaze flickered between the uneven terrain you were walking on and the screen of your camera; the absolute last thing you wanted was for your footage to come out all shaky and unfocused when you reviewed it later, making all your ghostly video evidence unusable and making you waste an entire night of your life for nothing.

“Considering how run-down this place is, I was expecting to see, like… animals running about and stuff, but I haven’t really seen any signs of life yet… except for all these plants.” You panned the camera around as you spoke, letting it get a good look at the overgrown plants surrounding the cracked concrete pathway you had stepped onto. “Well, I think I did hear some bugs buzzing around, maybe, but that’s about it. That just means that any weird noises I hear are gonna have to come from one source: ghosts. Not, like, from birds or-”

The sound of a light thud behind you made you pause, your mouth snapping shut as your mind processed the interruption to your commentary; it was such a soft sound, something that would have gone unnoticed within the ambient noise of a normal situation, but in the presence of dead silence that only had your voice and the occasional buzzing of bugs to break it, that sound might as well be compared to the deafening crash of a rock smashing into the concrete behind you.

You swiftly turned on your heel, your camera poised and ready to capture the specter that had made that sound on video, but, to your disappointment, all you saw was a large wall.

The hand holding your camera fell slightly as a frown appeared on your face, before you came to the realization that there wasn’t a wall there previously; the thought of an object appearing out of thin air made a smile return to your face, and prompted you to take a closer look at it.

You took a step towards the wall, your eyes narrowing as you readied your gaze to inspect the potential sign of a nearby ghostly presence, and you immediately noticed that it looked… fluffy.

This wasn’t a wall; it was some sort of fluffy creature.

The low level of light made it hard to make out what exactly the creature looked like, but it was just enough for you to get a decent grasp on a few things about its appearance — namely, it had four arms, a massive wingspan, was incredibly tall, and… had striking red eyes that were staring right back at your own curious gaze, the pair of glasses on its face only amplifying its stare.

You continued to stare at the creature, you and it seemingly locked into an impromptu staring contest with each other, before you took your inactive flashlight and poked the creature with it.

It was tangible.

Darn.

Not a ghost.

The creature blinked and tilted his head, clearly confused. “You not scared of Gonta?”

“No.” You mirrored his actions, tilting your own head with a steady smile on your face. “Why would I be?”

“A-Ah… Gonta scary-looking. Most people run and scream when they see Gonta.”

“Well, that’s rude.”

You finally broke eye-contact with the creature to check your camera; all this standing around and talking about nothing important was wasting the battery, but you didn’t want to just turn it off in case something suddenly came up that you knew you absolutely needed to get on video. You had to return to your search immediately, making the most of this hopefully-haunted night.

“Anyways, nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

You turned around and started walking towards the “Shrine” again, readjusting your camera to get a good shot of the building as you approached its entrance.

“W-Wait…!”

Gonta — as he seemed to be called — followed after you; his footsteps were heavy, a complete opposite to the soft thud you had heard when he first appeared behind you.

You let out a hum, still continuing forward despite the creature following you. “What?”

“Gonta has never seen you before, so Gonta was wondering if you are new student-” His gaze was cast down to the side, appearing almost bashful in a way. “-and wanted to help you, like gentleman. Gentlemen always happy to help!”

“Me, a student? Of this school?” You said, letting your words hang in the air for a moment before you shrugged, “No, I’m just visiting… but you can still help me out, if you want.”

Gonta appeared to perk up at your answer. “Really? Then Gonta do his best to help!”

You just let out another hum in response, most of your attention captured by the building you were currently entering; after carefully going up the crumbling stairs and through the red doors that were basically falling off of their rusted hinges, you finally found yourself in the “Shrine of Judgement”. The round glass ceiling let moonlight into the interior of the building, though a lot of the inside of the “Shrine” was still shrouded in dark shadows, mostly beyond the center.

“Okay, this place is looking pretty spooky-” You panned the camera around, making sure to get a nice shot of the area, especially the rather fancy-looking waterfall-and-fountain feature — you weren’t sure why, but the fountain felt oddly empty, like there was supposed to be a statue there, though you just shrugged it off. “-but I don’t see anything too notable yet.”

“Huh? Who is new friend talking to?”

“Just my subscribers.”

“Sub… scribers?”

You pouted and furrowed your eyebrows as you brought your camera down from your face, your eyes flickering around the interior of the “Shrine”; sure, the spooky atmosphere was nice and all, but lack of good lighting was going to make it hard to capture decent footage of any ghostly activity that might take place here. The problem was solved when you clicked the power button on your flashlight, the beam of light helping to reveal what was hidden in the shadows.

The light revealed dozens of pink and white flowers growing within the “Shrine”, which hardly kept your attention for more than a second as you tried looking for anything of interest.

“That’s much better. You see anything, Gonta? …Gonta?”

You simply stared behind you at the space where the large gentleman had previously been, his sudden disappearance exciting you as you wondered if he actually was a ghost all along… only for you to return your attention to what was in front of you to see him now standing there. Even if your disappointment towards this was immeasurable, it wasn’t crushing enough to stop you from noticing that Gonta was staring intently at the flashlight in your hand, his gaze fixed on the tool.

You just stood there for a moment before moving the flashlight to the right, watching how his eyes immediately followed it; the exact same thing happened when you moved it to the left, and again when you zig-zagged the tool around in the air in random patterns.

“...huh.”

- - - - -

The “Shrine”, despite the promising name, showed no signs of any ghostly activity happening there — you had done everything you could think of, from begging to bartering, to try and incite any spirits that may have been residing there to do anything, but you got no response no matter what you tried — so you were forced to continue your search elsewhere on the school grounds.

You were also on your own again, having decided to split up from Gonta after his help held no results at the first destination; to thank him for his time, you ended up giving him the flashlight that you were previously using since he seemed really interested in it for whatever reason.

That wasn’t even close to the reason you packed extra flashlights, but you didn’t mind losing one if it was for something like that.

After that whole situation, you had tried to check out the buildings near the “Shrine”, but the weirdly-high-tech places were all inaccessible — no amount of force you used against the doors managed to open them, even when you slammed your entire body into them — and the dojo, as impressive as it looked, was found to be completely empty of life, both ghostly and otherwise.

That entire section of the school grounds was just a huge disappointment, but you still hoped that the rest of the property would have a few specters willing to interact with you.

You made your way up the stairs that led to a higher level of ground, once again making sure that your camera wasn’t shaking too much as you tried to not trip on the broken concrete steps, as a renewed sense of energy flowed throughout you at the sight of your next destination.

“Okay, folks, the next place on our list is… the dorms? Oh, this should definitely have something!”

As you approached the entrance to the dorms, you silently noted that it looked relatively nice compared to the other buildings you had seen earlier; it still looked pretty old and was probably not fit for human use, but given how long the academy had been closed, you expected to see a bunch of plants taking over the building or a wall having collapsed or just something other than a decent-looking building that could potentially be used again if someone cleaned it up a bit.

The doors to the building were wide-open, and you noticed that a thin film seemed to be covering the entrance — it kind of looked like invisible silk, the only hint of it being there being the way it reflected the moonlight to make it look like it was slightly glowing.

It was really pretty to look at… but that wasn’t going to keep you from entering the building.

You walked straight on through, shaking off the film from yourself once you were completely inside. The film was actually really sticky, but that didn’t stop you from thoroughly removing it from your clothes and equipment, tossing all of it onto the floor afterwards.

With a click of your new flashlight’s power button, you swept a beam of light around the area, and took a quick look around the interior of the lobby of the hopefully-haunted dorms. It had two floors, metal staircases and walkways allowing people to access the upper floor, and a total of sixteen doors that you guessed led to the actual dorm rooms; the smaller-than-expected amount of dorm rooms made you wonder if only sixteen students attended this school at a time, or if this was just a case of the people in charge stuffing their students into rooms like sardines in a can.

Neither of those options helped make the place look any better, and only served to make it more obvious on why exactly this place failed as badly as it did.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the feeling of a drop of water landing on your head, and you immediately looked up, the sight of a dark shape on the ceiling catching your attention. You moved your flashlight to where the dark shape was, revealing the shape to be a giant spider.

Its six legs were spread out over a decent portion of the ceiling, a variety of items — a few of which you noticed were a bucket of water, a spray bottle filled with some sort of blue liquid, and a cleaning rag — hanging from said-legs… and that was when you realized that it was missing a set of legs, meaning that it couldn’t actually be a giant spider and was a different kind of bug.

Unless you counted the two arms that were attached to the human torso sticking out from the body as “legs”.

The human half of the creature was dressed in typical maid attire — the professional kind of attire, not the type seen in anime — and was holding a sponge in one of her hands, the object clearly related to the rest of the things she was carrying with her on the ceiling.

You and her just stared at each other, your neck craned up to look at her as she craned her neck to look down at you, before you averted your eyes and puffed out your cheeks.

“Darn it, just a spider maid doing whatever a spider maid does.”

Your attention was brought back to the spider maid when she gracefully landed on the floor in front of you, especially due to how she managed to keep all of her cleaning supplies from flying all over the place in the process. She spent only a brief moment glancing at the entrance to the dorms, a hint of confusion on her face, before fixing her gaze onto you.

The expression on her face was serious, and you moved your flashlight to point away from her when you noticed that she was squinting from the beam of bright light being directed at her face.

“Pardon me, but…” Her voice was steady, her tone polite but not overly warm. “...could you explain why you’re here?”

“Oh, I’m just looking for ghosts. Have you seen any?”

“...ghosts?”

“Yeah. You know… ghosts, spirits, specters, phantoms-” You walked around the lobby as you spoke, keeping a smile on your face even as you discovered that every single door leading to a dorm room was locked, making them another area you couldn’t investigate. “-maybe a demon? But I’m mostly looking for the “used-to-be-a-human-but-now-they’re-dead” kinda thing.”

“I’m…” The spider maid hesitated, arms held together in front of her body. “I’m afraid I can’t say.”

You let go of the doorknob you were attempting to jiggle open, turning to the spider maid with a disappointed frown on your face. “Awww… you haven’t?”

“...my apologies.”

“Well, that’s alright.” You began heading towards the entrance to the dorms, a smile returning to your face as you mentally reassured yourself that you still had a lot of ground to cover. “Sorry for bothering you. I’ll figure it out on my own. You can just get back to cleaning.”

The spider maid jolted a little where she stood, reaching a hand out to you. “Ah, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you’re allowed on the premises…!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll only be here ‘til sunrise, or until I find a ghost. I won’t break anything, promise!”

“I assure you, that is not my concern!”

- - - - -

The distance between the dorms and the school building was incredibly short, and you only spent less than a minute walking between the two locations before arriving at the once-grand entrance to the place where all those talented teenagers were taught all those years ago. The door closed behind you as you took in your new surroundings, an excited smile on your face.

“Whoa, this place looks like it’s straight out of a movie about, like, the apocalypse! Cool!”

You made sure your camera got a good view of the grass and flowers growing out of the floor, before moving it up to see the absolute mess the front hall was; it was hard to imagine what all of this had looked like when the place was still in operation, but it was probably less cool then.

“What are you doing?”

An unknown voice pulled your attention away from your camera, and your eyes darted around the immediate area to find a teenage boy standing a couple meters away from you. He looked to be around your age, and was wearing a plain black gakuran with white buttons; he honestly appeared rather unremarkable, if one were to ignore how unusually pale his skin was and how his white hair shone brightly in the moonlight streaming through the windows.

You shifted slightly where you stood, only one thought running through your mind as you took in how pale this otherwise-average teenage boy was.

“...ghost?”

“H-Huh?”

You took a step towards him, causing him to take a step back. “Are you a ghost?”

“Uh, n-no?”

You took another step towards him, causing him to take another step back. “No?”

“No!” The boy took yet another step back, appearing extremely nervous for some reason. “I am a robot, not a ghost!”

You stared at the boy with narrowed eyes for a moment longer, before eventually deciding to accept his claim of not being a ghost as true; as for his claim of being a robot, it didn’t seem to be true since he looked like a normal — albeit pale — human boy, but you weren’t really all that interested in wasting your time thinking about whether or not he could be one.

All that mattered was whether or not he was a ghost… and he wasn’t one, so that was that.

You turned away from the boy, and towards one of the hallways. “Then I’ll just have to keep searching.”

“W-Wait! Where are you going?!”

“To wherever the ghosts are! Goodbye!”

“H-Hey…!”

- - - - -

The basement gave off the exact vibes you were hoping for: creepy, damp… and, hopefully, haunted by a ton of ghosts of all kinds.

The boy from before — who you learned was named K1-B0, or, as he said you could call him, “Keebo” — followed you around as you inspected the library; it definitely looked like a place where a murder could occur, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t any evidence to suggest that one had taken place there. Even counting the cool door you found hidden behind a bookcase, which Keebo himself didn’t know was there, there wasn’t anything of interest to be found in that room.

It wasn’t until you entered the game room did you find any signs of life, though they weren’t the signs of undead life you were searching for.

There was a short man with cat-like qualities in the room, a pair of holes in his beanie to allow his cat ears to poke through it while his tail hung lazily behind him. He had something that resembled a cigarette in his mouth, but the lack of smoke suggested it was something else; you guessed that it was probably a candy cigarette due to it being nearly-identical to a real one.

The short cat man hummed, taking the candy cigarette between his fingers. “Keebo, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is… um…” Keebo looked at you, an unsure look on his face. “You… never actually told me your name, did you?”

“Why? Is that important?” You asked, your eyes choosing to wander around the room you were in instead of look at the possible-robot boy as you spoke — the machines looked to be in pretty good condition surprisingly, especially when compared to the rest of the school — before they stopped on the short cat man. “But I’m just a humble ghost hunter, looking for… well, ghosts!”

The short cat man raised an eyebrow. “They let a ghost hunter into the school?”

“I’m just visiting.”

“Right…” The short cat man turned his gaze towards Keebo. “I don’t think they’re supposed to be here.”

Keebo furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh? Are you sure?”

“I don’t think a school like this would let in a ghost hunter.”

“A-Alright. Then I’ll escort them off the premises immediately-” Keebo looked away from the short cat man and to where you were. “-so I’ll need you to please come with- huh?”

Keebo blinked a few times, staring at the spot where you used to be before looking around and realizing that you were no longer in the room with him and the short cat man.

“Oh no!”

The short cat man sighed, his shoulders falling slightly. “Guess we should go stop them.”

- - - - -

“So the basement was a bust, but there’s still plenty more to check out!”

You held the camera up to your eyes and looked through its screen at the hallway in front of you, your pace steady as you made sure to capture any interesting bits of deterioration that you saw on film to put in your video later. This place was probably one of the coolest places you had ever hunted for ghosts in, though actually finding a spirit or two would make it a whole lot cooler.

The stairs leading to the next floor were the first thing you stumbled upon after coming up from the basement, but you skipped past them in favor of checking out the rest of the first floor first — to no avail, it seemed. The gym yielded no results from any of your devices, the tower that forced you to walk up five floors’ worth of stairs just had a whole lot of nothing at the top, and now you were just making your way back to the stairs a little more disappointed than before.

It was only when you heard noises coming from somewhere on the right of you did you perk up, swiftly turning on your heel and rushing towards the source of the noises.

“Alright, where are the ghosts?!”

You kicked open the doors of the room that you heard the noises coming from as you yelled, revealing a dining hall to the camera that you held up in front of you; just like with the rest of the first floor, it had been overtaken by plants of all kinds, but, unlike the rest of the first floor, there were people present in the room — hopefully ghost people.

“Nyeh?!”

“Don’t worry, Himiko! I’ll protect you!”

There were two girls present in the room: one of which was sitting at the table with a plate of food in front of her and one of which was currently striking a fighting stance after having jumped up from her seat when you kicked the doors open. You noted that a plate of food was also sitting in the spot where the girl that was currently glaring you down had previously been.

You lowered your camera as you looked between the two girls, clear surprise written on the face of the one still sitting down and a protective glare on the one that looked ready to attack you.

“...are there any ghosts in here?”

The girl striking the fighting stance kept her pose as her multiple tails spread out behind her, an obvious attempt to make herself look bigger. “Hold it right there! You don’t get to ask questions!”

“Is that a no?”

“I said no questions!” The multi-tailed girl let out a low growl. “Now, apologize to Himiko for scaring her!”

You simply stared at the multi-tailed girl as she gestured to the one still sitting at the table, before eventually moving your gaze over. The moment you looked at the girl sitting at the table, you noticed that she seemed to shrink, her shaky gaze refusing to connect with yours.

“My bad, g.”

“What kind of apology is that?!”

“N-No, it’s fine…” The girl at the table — Himiko — spoke up, still clearly nervous. “Everything’s f-fine…”

The room fell into silence after she spoke, the girl sitting at the table still refusing to look at you as the multi-tailed girl continued to glare at you. You just let your gaze wander around the room instead of focusing on either of them, debating with yourself how much of the footage you had already captured would make it into the finished video, before your eyes came to a rest on the plates of food sitting on the table; the delicious scent of it made you a little jealous of the girls.

You only had a couple of water bottles and a few granola bars stashed away in your backpack, which helped you not starve during your trip here but still left much to be desired.

“Did you get that food here?”

Himiko jolted at the sound of your voice, before slightly leaning away from the beam of light you were pointing at her and her plate of food. “Mmm-hmm. I made it myself… with magic~.”

She let a smile onto her face as she said the last word, the tone of her voice indicating that she was talking about something she was really proud of; this was also when you noticed the pointy witch hat sitting atop her head, which helped make her claim seem a lot more valid.

“Cool! Say, could you use magic to find ghosts?”

“Depends on the spell. I don’t focus on that kind of magic, though.”

You pouted as your eyebrows furrowed. “I thought witches could do anything?”

“Nyeh… I could, if I really tried, but that sounds tiring…” Himiko scratched the side of her head, her smile falling into a lazy frown. “And I prefer the term “mage” more than “witch”.”

The multi-tailed girl put herself between you and Himiko, dropping her protective glare for a proud smile as she fanned her tails out behind her, still continuing to try and make herself look bigger than she actually was. “And I’m Tenko, her loyal fox familiar!”

“Eh?” Himiko looked at Tenko with her eyebrows furrowed. “No, you’re not.”

Tenko froze in place for a solid few seconds before her tails and ears drooped, the pride in her stance disappearing as she swiveled around to face the mage. “Aw, please, Himiko?! I’ll be the bestest, most loyal familiar in the world!”

“No, that’s gross.”

You just let out a sigh as you adjusted your grip on your camera and flashlight.

Darn.

Yet another room with nothing of value in it.

- - - - -

“Whoever chose the hot-pink polka-dotted pattern for these stairs gets a round of applause from me. A true genius in interior design.”

You were now on the second floor of the school building, ready to face whatever ghouls may be lurking up here, and the very first thing you noticed was that the state of this floor looked exactly the same as the first floor; plants grew out of every crack and crevice they were able to squeeze through, showing how much of a field day nature had with the school after it shut down.

The decrepit state of it all just raised your hopes for finding a ghost within the halls of this disappointment of an educational facility once again, one probably being mere moments away.

You just needed to proceed forward to finally find it.

The sound of multiple voices down the hallway made you perk up, your excitement rising as you headed towards the source to see three figures walking your way.

“Thanks for coming to help me choose a gift for her. I’m not exactly sure what she’d like.”

“Nonsense, it’s a hero’s duty to help his sidekick, right? We’ll get her something she’ll love!”

“Of course we will, but maybe asking him for help with things like this isn’t the best decision. He hardly understands Earth culture as is.”

“Aw, don’t talk like that, Maki Roll! I understand Earth stuff just fine!”

The three figures froze the moment you shined your flashlight on them, and you tilted your head as you took a step closer to inspect them better, a glint of silver flying through the air where your head used to be as you did so. You retracted your step as you blinked, glancing back to see that a knife was now sticking out of the wall, before returning your attention to the three figures.

There were two boys and a girl, all of whom looked to be around your age.

“...so, are any of you ghosts?”

“H-Huh?”

You leaned towards the boy who uttered that sound in response to you, nodding to yourself as you noticed how unnaturally pale he was — okay, yeah, the last pale boy you ran into wasn’t a ghost, but this boy seemed to be even paler than him — which was brought out even more from how dark his hair and school uniform were. He looked like a promising possible ghost.

“You’re really pale, so you must be a ghost, right?”

“No, I’m a…” The boy leaned back from you, squinting his eyes as he brought up an arm to block the blinding light you were pointing at his face. “...a vampire!”

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “You sure?”

“Y-Yes…?”

You let out a hum as you backed up from him and moved your flashlight away from his face, before turning your attention to the other guy in the trio; his skin was a bright green, the color clashing with his predominantly-purple fashion choices and making him hard to look at.

“You.” You pointed your flashlight at him. “Are you a ghost? You don’t really look like one…”

“No…” His posture wasn’t as timid as the vampire’s, and he was the only one of the three to have a smile on his face. “I’m what you guys call… what’s the word? An… “alien”? The name’s Kaito Momota, Luminary of the-”

You let out a small groan, cutting him off as you puffed out your cheeks. “Darn, I’m not looking for aliens.”

“H-Hey!”

With the two boys confirmed to not be the undead spirits you were searching for, you turned your attention to the girl. She looked relatively normal compared to the boys, her skin neither looking sickly nor radioactive, but on closer inspection, you noticed that some of her skin was stained a dark red color — those areas were her hands and a majority of her forearms, as well a pair of markings on her face that resembled tear streaks in everything but color.

“What are you looking at?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and focused on the entirety of the girl’s face, the expression she was wearing an excellent example of the phrase “if looks could kill”; her eyes seemed to be glowing as she glared at you, her sudden hostility actually managing to surprise you a little.

“...are you a-”

“No.”

“Huh?” The alien looked towards the girl, his smile dropping into a confused frown. “I thought you were-”

“Shut up.”

“But the whole “Bloody Maki” thing-?”

“Do you wanna die?”

The alien rubbed the back of his head with his hand, his eyebrows furrowed as he let out a small huff. “Geez, you don’t have to get all angry about it.”

“Um… guys?” The vampire spoke up, causing the two to look at him. “They left.”

The trio fell into a silence as they looked around at each other, the fading sound of footsteps in the distance as the source traveled further into the second floor all they heard before a group of much louder footsteps ascended the nearby stairs. The vampire looked over to see two more of his friends arriving, glancing between them as he took in the expressions on their faces.

“Keebo? Ryoma?”

- - - - -

The second floor turned out to be nothing but a huge disappointment, and to make matters worse, so did the third; you would be lying if you said you weren’t starting to lose hope in this place being haunted by now, that sour feeling even making it hard for you to find joy in all the non-haunted things of interest within the building, such as-

“Who puts an entire tennis court on the THIRD floor? Man, this place really was eccentric!”

-but your mood took a turn for the better once you entered the fourth floor.

The generic school setting was replaced by something straight out of a horror film, with a wooden floor that creaked with every little movement you made, walls with mysterious stains splattered upon them, and dim red lighting that seemed to serve more as an atmosphere-maker rather than an actual lightsource to let people see their surroundings; it felt like a place where a brutal murder could have occurred, a place where someone could have taken their last breath.

It was perfect.

You felt a smile replace the depressed frown that had settled onto your face as you surveyed your surroundings, your flashlight sweeping over everything as its beam flickered a few times.

And then it completely went out.

You blinked a couple of times as you stared at the darkness around you, your eyes clearly having not been ready for the sudden change in brightness, before you shook the flashlight in your hand and clicked the power button a few times, only for nothing to happen.

“This had new batteries in it… wait-”

You could practically see the glow from the imaginary light bulb that lit up above your head.

“Technology not working…”

You swiftly turned on your heel, only to see a wall — a real wall this time — that most definitely wasn’t there before; the staircase had completely disappeared, vanished into thin air.

“...and changing architecture! This can only mean one thing…!”

You turned to face forward once again, stars in your eyes when you saw that the hallway was now seemingly stretching out to infinity, no potential end in sight. It felt like you had entered into a nightmare, trapped with no other option than to proceed forward even if you didn’t want to.

But you definitely wanted to.

You let a few excited giggles escape your lips as you continued forward, your camera carefully held up to your eyes as you let it get a good view of your endless surroundings; you didn’t want your audience to miss whatever cool thing might happen here, the mere thought of being able to show them such irrefutable evidence of ghostly activity fueling your already-growing enthusiasm and making it all the more annoying to see the screen suddenly become engulfed in static.

The screen had never acted up like this before; something must be messing with your camera.

That wasn’t a very nice thing to do.

You shook your camera around slightly — hoping that you could somehow disperse the static covering the screen doing so, even though you knew it didn’t work like that — before you felt a chill run down your spine, your entire body tensing up from the sudden sensation. The air around you felt heavier as an invisible force squeezed your lungs, the lightheaded feeling from your inability to get enough oxygen almost distracting you from the feeling of being watched.

“Nee-heehee~!”

The strange laugh echoing in the endless hallway made you pause, before you puffed out your cheeks and continued to fiddle around with your camera a moment later; you didn’t like how the ghost wasn’t waiting until everything was okie-dokie with your camera to come out, but after all the disappointment you had dealt with tonight, you were just glad it finally decided to show up.

You could only let out a small gasp once the static on the screen cleared up, your difficulty breathing making you unable to say anything more, before you swiveled around to point your camera down the never-ending hallway. Through the screen, you saw the silhouette of a short boy — he wasn’t as short as the cat man from earlier, but definitely had a good few inches to grow to reach what one could consider an “average” height — standing a good distance away from you, completely cloaked in shadows in spite of the dim red lighting above him.

The figure just continued to stand there as you moved the camera to the side, your eyes narrowing as you brought up your flashlight and repeatedly clicked the power button until it flickered back to life. 

The moment the beam of light poured out of the device, you pointed it at the figure to reveal-

“Aw, man… it’s just some kid. Darn.”

You could practically feel all of the excited energy that you had built up evaporate to leave nothing but a desert of disappointment in its wake; this had been the perfect moment for a ghost to show up, but instead all you had gotten was some boy who looked like an asylum escapee.

“Wha-? Who are you calling “kid”?” 

The insulted look on the boy’s face only lasted for a moment before easily shifting into a mischievous grin. “You’re pretty bold to say something like that, you know.”

You moved your flashlight away from the boy as you checked your camera, holding in an annoyed sigh when you noticed that the screen was glitching out again; however, instead of static this time, it was just completely black, as if you were recording in a pitch black room.

“See, ever since you stepped foot onto these grounds, I’ve been watching you. You don’t seem to realize-”

“That’s creepy.” You stopped the recording before resuming it to see if that would fix the issue. It didn’t. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Heyyy, it’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re talking.” The smile on the boy’s face dropped into a frown as he furrowed his eyebrows, his hands brought up in front of his chest as he clenched them into fists. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

You looked up from your camera and towards him. “Oh, sorry. Continue.”

The boy narrowed his eyes at you, you and him locked into a staring contest for a few moments before he appeared to deem your level of attention as acceptable, the mischievous grin that had been on his face before returning as he held his arms out wide beside him.

“You don’t seem to realize the danger you’re in… though, from my experience, humans typically aren’t that smart anyways.”

“Aren’t you a human?”

“Oh, no, no, no. Human I may appear to be, but human I am not.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a-”

“-a ghost?” The boy cut you off before chuckling and holding a finger up his lips. “You’ve been asking that question a lot, haven’t you? But, no. Not that, either. I’m something far more powerful than some measly spirit. You see, I’m what you puny little humans call a- where are you going?”

You glanced back at the boy you had walked past as he rambled on about power or whatever, pausing for just a moment in your trek forward as you gestured at the endless hallway in front of you. “I’m off to find ghosts. Don’t you already know that?”

“Geez, don’t you have any patience?” The annoyance in his voice sounded superficial, and the fact that a smile was still on his face supported that. “Most humans would feel — SHOULD feel — honored to be in my presence, and here you are, walking right past me like it’s nothing. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“Bold of you to assume I was held.” You blinked. “...sorry, force of habit. I don’t think so?”

A hint of confusion flickered across his face, quickly covered up by the mischievous smile he was intent on keeping displayed. “Well, if anything, you’re not boring like most humans are. Your reactions are a lot more interesting than the usual scared ones I get.”

“Thanks.”

“It makes me wonder how you’d react if you saw how I really look, though I know I should probably just stay in this form.” The boy caught up to where you were, matching your pace as you continued your journey down the hallway. “You should consider yourself lucky that I’m not showing my true form to you, you know. Your mind would shatter from just a glimpse of it alone-”

“Weird flex, but okay.”

You paused for a second at the sight of a door located a little further down the hallway, before rushing towards it to see if it was real… and it was; before you could do anything with it, though, the non-ghost boy popped up into your peripheral vision, a carefree smile on his face.

“Anywayyys, I think I’ve held you up long enough.” He held his arms behind his head, his posture relaxed. “So feel free to go along now. Continue your little ghost hunt. I’ll just continue to watch you from the shadows, okay?”

You tilted your head, a smile also on your face. “Okay! But you should really find a better hobby. I can suggest a few things if you’d like.”

“Nope! Not interested! Bye-bye now!”

There was a sudden pressure pushing against your back, the source of it unknown to you as you clearly saw the boy still standing next to you with both of his arms visible, before you were shoved through the door that you didn’t remember being opened; you felt weightless for just the briefest moment as a loud slam echoed in your ears, and then everything went black.

- - - - -

You let out a small groan as you opened your eyes, the sight of a tiled floor greeting you; you simply stared at it for a moment before you pushed yourself onto your knees and immediately went to adjust the heavy bag on your back that had been knocked askew. With that settled, you picked up your camera and flashlight — which were both thankfully not broken — before getting onto your feet and looking at your new surroundings, your eyes widening at the sight of them.

The room you were now in had multiple floors within it, each one absolutely filled to the brim with relics of all kinds; whether or not they had actual value was debatable, but they looked to be covered in layers upon layers of dust, so you could tell that they must be really old.

And old stuff had a great chance of being haunted.

“Oooh, you think I should take a souvenir from this place? Maybe I’ll end up taking a new friend home too!”

“Please do not treat these objects like mere trinkets… or I’ll tear out your nerves.”

An unknown voice caused your outstretched hand to pause right above a display case, your fingers barely brushing against the glass, and you turned your head to see a man — correction, a person with the upper-half of a man and the lower-half of a snake — sitting less than a foot away from you; his human-half donned clothing that was very reminiscent of a military uniform, as well as a mask that completely covered the lower-half of his face and his neck.

You were surprised at how close he was to you; you had no idea he was even there before he had spoken. His snake-half was rather long, and was spread out across the floor in such a way that it seemed like he was using it as a makeshift wall to keep you from wandering around all willy-nilly. You were confident in thinking that you could just easily step over the smallest end of it — and hoisting yourself over the biggest end didn’t seem like too much trouble either — but it seemed rude to ignore his effort.

“Ah, sorry.” You pulled your hand back. “Are these yours?”

He hummed, gaining a look of thought. “To say that they are “mine” wouldn’t necessarily be the truth. I’m merely the caretaker of these objects at this moment in time. It’s like asking a security guard if they own the works of art they are guarding — I’m simply the one watching over them.”

“So… they’re yours?”

The snake man looked down at you for a few silent seconds, no discernible expression on his face — at least, from what you could see of the half that wasn’t covered by his mask.

“...yes, they’re mine, and I don’t appreciate having others touch them so recklessly.”

“Okay. I won’t touch them then, Snake Man, but-” You turned away from him as you brought your camera up, letting it get a good shot of the items in the glass case in front of you. “-could you tell me if any of them are haunted? Possessed? Carrying a spirit of the deceased?”

“You may call me Korekiyo. I assume you are specifically interested in “ghost”-related supernatural activity…?”

“Yeah! I’m a ghost hunter!” You flashed Korekiyo a confident smile as you held up your camera and flashlight proudly. “Or, as the professionals call it, a “paranormal investigator”!”

“You are… a ghost hunter?”

“Yep!”

He muttered to himself, his limbs close to his body as he rested his hand on his chin. “So, it really is like the others said…”

“Hmm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing important.” Korekiyo waved his hand dismissively, adjusting the position of his tail slightly. “But I’m afraid none of these objects are haunted, at least not in the way you’d like them to be.”

“Darn.” Any disappointment you felt was already gone by your next breath. “Goodbye, then!”

You stepped over Korekiyo’s tail, having to hop forward a bit when your back foot got caught, and headed over to the nearest door; you had no idea which door you came in through, your memory fuzzy between when you were pushed and when you woke up, but all of that wasn’t important to you as you focused on the hallway beyond the door you just opened — it looked exactly like the hallway you were trapped in before, but wasn’t an endless nightmare anymore.

The boy from before was also nowhere to be seen, but you hardly spared him a single thought when you realized you could finally resume making some progress in your investigation. There wasn’t much left of the school to explore, but you weren’t just going to leave a job half-done.

Korekiyo simply watched you leave the room, amusement in his eyes. “Kekeke… humans truly are such fascinating creatures…”

- - - - -

After skipping past the staircase that led to the fifth floor, you came upon another room on the other side of the fourth floor; opening the door to that room revealed an artist’s paradise, a white room filled with everything an aspiring artist might need — paint, blank canvases, blocks of wax, various crafting tables, a huge log for wood carving with chiseling supplies, brushes of all kinds and sizes… and, of course, an overwhelming creative atmosphere encouraging you to create.

You took a step into the room, noticing the splashes of black paint splattered on the walls and floor, before directing your attention to the wax statue sitting in the middle of the room.

It was clearly a work-in-progress, a roughly-carved humanoid shape, but was still impressive.

“Yah-hah! Who might you be?”

You jolted at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, immediately turning on your heel towards the source and scanning the area with a narrowed gaze before your eyes stopped on a painting that was hanging on the wall; it was extremely lifelike, the artist apparently a master at their craft.

The painting depicted a girl staring at the viewer, her body leaning to the side as a curious smile was on her face. You copied the action with your own body, locking your eyes with hers.

You and her just stared at each other as you waited for something to happen; it was a lot like a staring contest, except that you knew that you would lose this one since you were the only party who actually needed to blink. Even so, you still held out for quite a while before you gave in.

And that was when you noticed that the painting changed, the girl now leaning to the other side.

You adjusted your body to match the new pose, causing the girl’s expression to change to a closed-eye smile as she straightened her posture and clasped her hands together. 

“Nyahahaha, how fun!”

Your eyes widened as you let out a gasp and raised a hand — the one holding the flashlight — to your mouth, your gaze now glued to the lifelike painting in front of you; while the background of the painting remained completely static, the paint making up the girl herself shifted around the canvas with each of her movements. She was so animated, so unnaturally alive.

“Are… are you a haunted painting?” You tried to keep your camera steady as you pointed it at the girl, your hands shaking slightly. “A spirit trapped within the frame?”

The girl hummed, gently rocking her head back-and-forth as she thought. “I guess so?”

You let out another gasp as a smile slowly began to make its way onto your face; finally, after encountering nothing significant within this school, you had found what you were looking for.

A ghost.

You quickly approached the painting, inspecting it from every angle you could as you held your camera up to your face; you needed to capture every single glorious moment of this on video.

“Okay, this is super amazing! Um… what do I wanna ask you first…?” Your voice rushed out of your mouth, matching the pace of your quickening heartbeat, as you tried to stop your hands from shaking so much; you needed this footage to be as perfect as possible. “Oh, I know! Does it suck being trapped inside of a painting? I imagine you can’t really do much in there…”

“No, no, Angie is not trapped. I can go between any of the paintings hung around the academy to my heart’s content!”

“Is that what those are all for?” You tilted your head, only barely recalling the objects that you had kind of just ignored before now; they had seemed out-of-place within the crumbling interior of the building, but that was about it. “I thought those were just a strange decoration decision.”

“But Atua says that it’s time for me to move up a level!” Angie let out a laugh. “I’ve earned enough points to ascend to the third dimension!”

“What does that mean?”

“You see that wax statue over there?” She turned your attention over to the wax statue sitting in the middle of the room. “Once it is finished, that will become my new body!”

“A spirit transferring from a painting to a wax statue…” You muttered to yourself, tapping your chin with your flashlight as you stared at the blocky humanoid shape, before turning back to look at Angie with a smile on your face. “That should be possible, yeah?”

“If Atua says it is possible, then it is possible! He is never wrong!” Angie clasped her hands together joyously, her smile seeming to become brighter as she continued speaking. “Oh, what joy! With a new body, Angie will be able to mingle with all her friends, playing and dancing and eating Kirumi’s delectable meals! Nyahahaha!”

You nodded, the girl’s enthusiasm proving to be quite contagious, before you furrowed your eyebrows as you thought a little more about what she said. “How exactly are you able to do that, though? Make a wax statue while trapped in a painting…?”

“Oh! It is not I who makes the art, but Atua!” Her arms wrapped around herself as she spoke and closed her eyes, her smile a bit more peaceful now. “Angie offers her body as His vessel, and He creates such beautiful things with it! That’s why Angie needs to be completely alone to do so, so Atua can create without distraction!”

“Ah, understandable.”

Not really, but you felt like questioning her more about it wouldn’t get you anywhere.

“I’m just glad I finally found a ghost!” You said, adjusting your grip on your camera as you let it get a good shot of Angie swaying inside her frame, “I was starting to think that there weren’t any around here, my search having been a complete bust until now.”

“Hmm? That’s strange.” Angie tapped the tip of a paintbrush’s handle on her chin — you spent only a moment wondering where it came from, before assuming that the haunted paint was able to shift into anything she wanted it to — as a look of thought crossed her face. “There may be no others exactly like Angie here, but there should be other ghosts around. I know at least two!”

Your smile dropped from your face as you blinked, your brain pausing for a moment. “...wait, really? But… but I’m almost to the fifth floor and haven’t seen any besides you…”

You shook your head, putting a smile back on your face as you looked at Angie.

“Anyways, I should probably get going. I’ve got one more floor to check, and, hey, maybe that’s where the other two are?”

Angie raised a hand, her smile brighter than the sun. “Okay! Bye-yonara!”

“Bye! Good luck with your art!”

The moment after you stepped out of the room and closed the door, you heard a soft click come from it; you paused before shaking the doorknob, revealing that the door was now locked. There was no possible way Angie had been the one to lock it, her new wax body not ready for use, but then you remembered that “Atua” person she kept mentioning — he must have been behind it.

“...man, he’s so lucky to be friends with that ghost.”

- - - - -

“Thanks again for helping me. I know it can be a plain bother…”

“Hey, it’s no problem.”

The two figures on the fifth floor had their attention suddenly shifted from each other as they heard something thump near the stairs, their smiles falling as they glanced at each other and rushed over to the source of the sound; there was a person they had never seen before spread out over the top of the stairs, breathing heavily as they grasped at the white tiled floor.

You were currently in such a position for multiple reasons, but it was mainly because you had been hit by an unexpected wave of exhaustion while ascending the final staircase; this must be your punishment for not getting enough rest and nutrition before heading out on this hunt, made worse by the heavy backpack resting on your back. You barely managed to crawl up the stairs on all fours before collapsing, arms on the fifth floor as your legs laid behind you on the steps.

You spent a moment more like this before looking up from the floor, taking in the decor of the final floor you would investigate on your never-ending hunt for spirits.

“This place looks religious…” You muttered, before noticing the two figures standing just a few feet away — the girl looked pretty plain, donning a simple school uniform and a pair of glasses, while the boy looked kind of like an e-boy, his skin having a green tint to it — with varied looks of surprise on their faces, “...are either of you guys a ghost?”

The girl and boy just looked at each other before the girl spoke. “N-No…?”

“Oh… well, have you seen anything that might suggest ghostly activity on this floor?”

The two glanced at each other once again, before both of them hesitantly shook their heads at you; you just let out a groan in response before dropping your own head onto the cold floor, one of your cheeks now smushed up against the smooth tile.

The plain girl leaned over to the boy, a hand cupped near her mouth. “Is this the one the others have been looking for?”

“Maybe, but… they don’t seem to be as big a threat as the others said they were.”

The girl flinched as the boy began walking over to you, her hand reaching out to him in slight panic. “Rantaro…!”

“Don’t worry, Tsumugi.” He looked from her to you, crouching down slightly. “Hey, you okay?”

You pulled yourself up, shifting into a sitting position at the top of the stairs, before looking at the boy; the green tint of his skin was more obvious up-close, and you noticed that his hands were webbed, thin skin connecting his fingers together. Your nose crinkled for just a second when you noticed a faint fishy odor in the air, before you gave a dismissive wave and averted your eyes.

“Don’t… don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay after I… after I catch my breath…”

Tsumugi held her hands close to her chest as she glanced between you and Rantaro, before hurrying forth when she saw the boy gesture to the stairs with his head. She quickly descended down the stairs as Rantaro stood back up, giving you one last glance before following the girl at a more normal and relaxed pace, leaving you completely alone on the fifth floor.

- - - - -

You spent the next few minutes sitting at the top of the stairs, regulating your breathing and devouring a few granola bars and a water bottle — you became even more jealous of that meal you saw Himiko eating earlier — before you found yourself feeling a bit better; it helped that you also got to use your little break to admire the atmosphere present on the fifth floor.

Your first impression of it was still highly-accurate, and you wondered why anyone building a school would decide to make the top floor resemble a church of all things. Your research didn’t bring up any information regarding the academy being religious, which was kind of disappointing since places of a religious background tended to be hot-spots for paranormal activity; it was due to the energy of the places or whatever — you didn’t really care about the details.

But besides that, from the weirdly-high-tech areas outside, the hot-pink polka-dotted-patterned staircases, the horror-movie-inspired fourth floor, and the church-like fifth floor, this place really made for an interesting trip; the people who designed it deserved a round of applause.

There was something bothering you, though.

You looked towards the stain-glass windows, ignoring the designs portrayed on them as you focused on the bright light coming through them; according to the schedule you had made for this trip, daylight should still be a few hours away — maybe even more considering the way you had sped through the second and third floors due to the lack of ghostly activity.

You whipped out your phone for the first time in a while, squinting your eyes at the screen once you looked at the time. “What the heck…? That doesn’t seem right…”

The clock on your phone was telling you that it was an hour past daybreak, and the light coming through the windows told you that it was an hour past daybreak, but you were sure as all heck it wasn’t an hour past daybreak. Your biological clock refused to let you believe that.

But all the evidence was there.

You let out a sigh as you turned off your flashlight, stuffing it into your backpack before you got up onto your feet and turned your camera to face you. “Well, folks, I guess this is the end of my search into the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles. It wasn’t a complete failure since we got to meet Angie, but I wish we could’ve found those other two ghosts she said were here.”

The sound of your footsteps echoed slightly in the empty halls of the academy as you began your long trek down the various floors, the light streaming through the windows giving the entire place a different atmosphere from before — it no longer seemed eerie, but rather peaceful.

That peaceful feeling was soon accompanied by the sound of a distant piano as you arrived on the second floor, the sweet melody making a smile come to your face. You were a little surprised to find out that there was a piano sitting somewhere in this school, but since you failed to search this floor thoroughly after running into that non-ghost trio, it became less of a surprise.

“Hey, folks-” You held the camera up to your face again. “-since we’re about to leave anyway, we might as well check out that piano, right? Maybe we’ll find one of the other ghosts there!”

That would be a great ending to your trip AND your video.

- - - - -

You bursted into the room where the music was coming from, a sudden cacophony of piano keys greeting your ears. Your eyes locked onto the girl sitting at the large instrument, a startled expression on her face as her hands sat on the keyboard.

“Darn, it’s just some regular girl.”

“H-Huh?”

“Sorry for interrupting your song. I’m just looking for ghosts.”

“You’re…” The girl blinked. “...looking for ghosts?”

“Yeah.” You gave a small nod to the girl before looking around the room, noticing how various music sheets covered the ground; most of them seemed to be near the grand piano sitting in the middle of the room. “I thought I could get in one last chance before I leave.”

The girl stood up from the piano bench, her gaze moving to the camera in your hands and the big backpack sitting on your back. “Oh! So you’ve been looking for a while?”

“I’ve been exploring the school all night to look for them. I was only able to meet Angie — the living painting — though.” You continued glancing around the room, raising your eyebrows at the large collection of CDs you saw on your left. “She said that there were at least two more around here, but I haven’t seen them anywhere yet.”

“Well, Maki’s not really a people-person, so I guess it makes sense that you haven’t seen her around…” The girl averted her eyes from you, a look of thought on her face. “And I know I haven’t seen you at all either. I guess we just missed each other? I was late to school today…”

“Hmm?” You tilted your head. “Sorry, I don’t see what that has to do with ghosts?”

She took another look at you, appearing to think for a moment before eventually nodding and letting a bright smile onto her face.

You found yourself blinking excessively and rubbing at your eyes as the girl suddenly became translucent; you were clearly able to see what was behind her, making the girl herself harder to focus on. However, your gaze was fully locked onto her as she appeared to get taller, your eyes darting downwards to see that she was now floating a good few inches above the ground.

“Wait…” You gasped, causing the girl to chuckle. “You’re a ghost!”

“Ta-da!” The girl clapped her hands together. “I’m a ghost!”

You immediately pointed your camera at her, stars in your eyes when you saw that she was appearing on the screen with no issues. She spun a little in the air as you filmed her, her hair and skirt flowing with her movements and creating a beautifully-haunting scene for you.

“Ah, I knew it was a good idea to follow the music!” You looked between the girl and your camera, a smile on your face. “That’s two out of three! I can now say this outing was a success!”

The girl let out another chuckle at your excitement.

“Say, could I ask you a few questions?” You walked around the girl, making sure to get some different — and appropriate — shots of her at different angles. “Just about some general stuff.”

She nodded, twirling around face you. “Sure!”

“Okay, so-” You went through the list of questions popping up in your head; the questions you wanted to ask this girl were extremely different to the ones you wanted to ask Angie, the types of ghosts they were so vastly different that it excited you to know that you got to see both. “-how easy is it for you to interact with material objects?”

“Oh, well… it’s kind of hard for me to touch things sometimes, except for the piano. I’ve never had any issues with that.” She wore an embarrassed smile on her face. “I know that’s a little bit stereotypical, though, for a ghost to play a piano.”

“No, it’s amazing!”

Her eyes widened. “I’m- I’m glad you think so!”

The room suddenly became a bit brighter as sunlight poured through the windows, the sight of which made the girl direct her attention towards it before she resumed looking at you.

“How about you ask me more questions as we head out? School’s almost over.”

You nodded, continuing to smile.

“Okay!”

- - - - -

Kaede — as you learned her name was — floated alongside you as you walked towards the entrance of the school. She had to remind you to pay attention to where you were going after you walked into a wall, your focus solely on her as you kept your camera pointed at her instead of on what was in front of you, but you hardly felt the pain in your face; it was nothing compared to the excitement coursing through your veins as Kaede happily answered all of your questions.

“I’ve never had someone so interested in me before,” Kaede said, floating backwards to face you, “At least, not like this. Most of the others are just “cool!” and then it’s over.”

“Well, I’ve never seen a ghost until last night!” You glanced away from the ghost girl for just a moment to make sure you didn’t trip over any of the plants spread across the floor; you didn’t care if you got hurt, but you didn’t want to risk breaking your camera right now. “They’ve just probably all gotten used to it because they see you all the time since you’re friends, right?”

Kaede hummed, putting a finger to her chin. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You just smiled at the ghost girl floating beside you before you walked into another wall; after taking a step back and making sure your camera was okay, you noticed that it was actually the front door to the school building, but a small gasp from Kaede immediately pulled your attention away from it and back over to her to see that there was a look of realization on her face.

“Oh, I forgot to ask! You must be a new student, right?” She asked, swiveling around so that the two of you were both facing the front door, “I haven’t seen you at school before, and considering how you didn’t know how many ghosts were around here…”

“You’re not the first one to ask me that.” You pushed open the door, needing to do so since you, unfortunately, couldn’t go through walls like Kaede could. “But I’m actually just visiting-”

Your eyes didn’t even get a chance to adjust to the light outside before you were tackled to the ground, a strangled gasp escaping your lips as your body was harshly squeezed by some kind of thin binding. Your camera clattered to the ground a few feet away, and you hoped it was okay.

“Kirumi!” Kaede had an expression of confused panic on her face as she looked at the spider maid that had just tied you up with her web. “What’s going on?! What did you do that for?!”

“Ah, Kaede. Thank goodness you are uninjured.”

“Huh?!”

With your face pressed to the ground, you couldn’t see much of what was going on, and was only able to hear multiple pairs of footsteps heading your way, voices full of panic and confusion merging together into a cacophonic mess of sound… but you couldn’t care less about that.

You were just praying that your camera had survived its harsh fall onto the ground.

“W-Why is new friend in web?!”

“Ah-ha! I knew they were bad news the moment I saw them! They scared Himiko, after all!”

“Nyeh, I… I wasn’t scared! Just surprised!”

“Hmph, so they’ve finally been caught.”

“Thank goodness. I can’t believe I didn’t notice that they weren’t a student.”

“Well, I think it’s plain obvious due to their equipment, Keebo.”

You shifted your head to look upwards when a shadow cast itself over you, allowing you to see the boy from before — the one from the endless hallway, specifically; you had seen a lot of boys during your investigation of the school, but, unfortunately, none of them were ghosts.

“Aww… you got caught? How disappointing. I thought you were better than that.” The mock disappointment on his face shifted to a dismissive, and almost smug, smile. “I guess I helped you out for nothing, huh?”

The girl from the trio on the second floor — who you realized must be the final ghost by process of elimination, considering Kaede mentioned a ghost named “Maki” and the alien had referred to her as “Bloody Maki” before you had left — glared at the boy. “What did you just say?”

“Hmm?” The boy put his arms behind his head, an innocent smile on his face. “Oh, nothing important. I just messed with them for a bit on the fourth floor, that’s all.”

“Kokichi.” The vampire looked at the boy with a questioning glance. “Is that why we couldn’t find them when we followed after them? That was your doing?”

The short cat man adjusted his beanie, his ears twitching. “So that’s why it was like they disappeared…”

“I thought they were just able to slip by…” Keebo furrowed his eyebrows as he thought. “...but it was all because of Kokichi.”

“And it was a few hours after you informed me of them that they entered my lab,” Korekiyo added, a frame containing a painting with a concerned Angie in it in his arms, “So I’d say he kept them for… quite a while.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” You tried to adjust your position to glare at Kokichi. “I knew something felt wrong when I looked at the time! You took away precious time from my search, you jerk!”

“Wowww…” He didn’t look even slightly bothered, a smile still on his face. “You learn what I’m capable of, but you still insult me? You really are a bold one! At least you’re not disappointing in that regard… but you should know that I actually helped you. If I hadn’t done anything, you would’ve just been caught, and then you would’ve never gotten to meet Angie or Kaede.”

He knew he was right, you knew he was right, and he knew that you knew he was right, but you puffed out your cheeks in annoyance anyways.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?” Kaede pleaded, glancing around at the others with a distressed frown on her face, “I have no idea what any of you are talking about! Why did you tie them up?!”

She looked at the vampire who came to stand beside her, a concerned expression on his face. “Shuichi?”

The vampire nervously smiled at the ghost girl.

“Sorry, Kaede… this person- they’re a human ghost hunter. We’ve actually been searching for them for hours, after Keebo and Ryoma-” Shuichi briefly gestured at the possible-robot boy and short cat man that were standing together at one edge of the group. “-told us about them.”

“Ghost…” Kaede blinked. “...hunter?”

Maki looked off to the side, fiddling with one of her twintails. “I could tell just by looking at them. These two idiots didn’t even realize at first.”

“H-Hey! Don’t say that about my sidekick and I!” Kaito was taken aback, his eyes wide as he looked at the bloody ghost girl standing next to him. “And how was I supposed to know what a “ghost hunter” is? I’ve never even heard of that before!”

“Please, there is no need for fighting,” The spider maid — Kirumi, based on what Kaede had said earlier — spoke up, “They have been caught, and everything is now under control.”

“Oh, oh! Angie has a question!” The girl in the painting raised a hand up, directing attention to herself as she continued to smile. “Um… what now? We can’t just keep them tied up, right?”

The group looked around at each other, waiting for someone to speak up; as time continued to pass by like this, with not a single word uttered, it became increasingly obvious that no one had thought about what they should do after they had caught you.

“What the fuck is going on over here?”

The sound of a new voice — this one oddly aggressive — caused everyone to look over at the source; you shifted where you laid to turn your head to see a girl wearing a pink school uniform that didn’t seem entirely appropriate in a school setting. She looked pretty normal if you were to ignore the horns, wings, and spiked tail she had — she must be some kind of demon.

“Are you all circle-jerkin’ without me?”

The demon looked around at everyone gathered in front of the school before spotting you on the ground, tied up tightly in Kirumi’s web, and looked at the spider maid with raised eyebrows.

“O-ho-ho! I didn’t know you were into that, Kirumi!”

Kirumi kept a calm expression displayed on her face, her hands politely folded in front of her body. “I assure you, this is a one-time thing. I do not enjoy trapping others in my web, but it is to ensure the safety of the group at this moment in time.”

“Safety of the group…?” The demon repeated, a brief moment passing before an annoyed frown appeared on her face, “Okay, I was joking the first time, but what the actual fuck is going on?”

The demon was answered by a mess of voices as multiple people tried to explain what was going on, the explanations prompting others to pop up with even more questions because they too, like the demon, had little to no idea what exactly was happening here.

You squirmed around on the ground during the confusion, trying to steady the weight of your backpack so that you could properly move around without being tipped over like a domino; your target to get to was your camera — if it didn’t break from its fall, it should still be recording since you never got to hit the pause or finish button before being rudely tackled. You wanted to make sure that the footage you got of Angie and Kaede — you hardly got any of Maki since you were fooled by her ghostly genius — was going to save properly. You knew that you would never get such irrefutable ghostly evidence like this ever again, this footage being your magnum opus.

You managed to wrestle an arm out the webbing, and reached out to grab your camera to-

“Yoink! I’ll just take this!”

The sight of your precious camera being snatched up by Kokichi made you freeze, before a burning fury erupted inside of you as you glared at the boy. “Hey! Give that back! It’s mine!”

He ignored you in favor of turning towards the demon.

“Hey, bitchlet-” Kokichi practically threw your precious camera towards her, your entire body tensing up and a small squeak escaping you the moment he let go of it. “-catch!”

“Wha-?!” The demon managed to catch your camera in her arms — to your great relief — despite her surprise; sure, her grip on it wasn’t the best, but it was better than seeing it crash onto the ground and break into a million pieces before your very eyes. “B-Bitchlet...?!”

You somehow managed to calm yourself down slightly by focusing on your breathing, trying to get yourself into a state of mind where you could think of something to do to save your camera, before your breath got caught in your throat at the sound of Kokichi’s voice deepening, the most unnerving and malicious grin you had ever seen taking its place on his face.

“Delete the footage.”

You began thrashing around in the webbing even before he finished speaking, trying to free the rest of your body as panic settled into your mind. “No-no-no-nooo…!”

The air was knocked out of you once again as you were pinned down, a gloved hand taking a hold of the arm you had already managed to free. You glanced up to see Kirumi standing above you as you struggled against her grip in vain, her strength far greater than yours.

The demon gave Kokichi an annoyed glare. “Geez, can’t you just do it yourself?”

“Well, yeahhh… but I can’t take away your only redeeming trait.” Kokichi put his arms behind his head, a simple smile on his face now. “Without the technology expertise, you’d just be a demonic prostitute, and that’s just too cruel. So get to it — chop, chop!”

The demon let out a “tch” sound, before she started fiddling with your camera. 

“Fine…”

She clicked a button.

“There.”

And you just stopped.

Kirumi raised an eyebrow in confusion when you stopped struggling, your body now lying limp on the ground with an unreadable expression. You felt numb — an entire night of your life was just wasted; you had nothing to show for your time here. You finally got evidence of ghosts on camera, irrefutable proof that could have shown the world the truth, and it was just deleted.

It was gone.

Like it never existed in the first place.

You blinked, finding yourself no longer on the ground but hanging from someone’s grasp, the webbing strong enough to support your weight. You tilted your head, looking up to see that the spider maid was the one holding you up; her strength really was something.

“Okay, the human’s been caught and the footage has been deleted,” Tsumugi said, looking slightly nervous as she looked around at everyone, “That's the end of the problem, right?”

Shuichi also looked nervous, but had a serious expression on his face. “No, we’ve still got to deal with them.”

“They know too much.” Maki fiddled with one of her twintails. “It’d be dangerous to just let them go.”

“W-Wait, if we can’t let them go…” Keebo looked at the bloody ghost, a nervous frown on his face. “...are you suggesting that we keep them here?”

“There’s no way we can do that!” Kaede spoke up, floating a little higher to bring attention to herself as she did so; even though you had lost your drive to continue forward, you felt a hint of a smile appear on your face at the sight of her. “We can’t just keep them here! That’s wrong!”

“Mmm, yeah…” Kokichi looked at his hand dismissively. “And there’s no reason to. We’ve already got Kirumi, and I doubt they’d be able to do a better job than her.”

Ryoma took his candy cigarette between his fingers, a calm expression on his face. “Well, we need to figure out something. We can’t let them go because they’re a risk to our safety, but we can’t keep them here against their will either.”

“Easy solution!” The demon placed her hands on her hips, a proud smile on her face. “We just blackmail the shit outta ‘em! Make them not wanna talk about what they’ve seen here!”

“With what information?” Korekiyo held onto his face with one hand, the other still holding onto the painting with Angie in it. “We don’t even know their name… unless you’re suggesting a more violent method?”

“Oh?” Tenko perked up, her tails flaring out behind her. “I can do that!”

“Hmm? No, no, that won’t do!” Angie shook her head, a smile still displayed on her face. “The human has done nothing worthy of punishment! That’s what Atua says!”

“Gonta knows friends are scared, but…” Gonta hesitated. “...Gonta cannot allow new friend to get hurt either!”

Kaede nodded, a worried frown on her face. “Yeah, that’s insane!”

The air was quickly filled with more and more voices as everyone joined the discussion to try and come to a decision on what to do; a majority of them vetoed any idea of violence, but also didn’t agree with the suggestion of keeping you here. It eventually got to a point where the same ideas were starting to be recycled, just with different phrasing each time they came up.

“Hey, I might have an idea.”

The sight of a webbed hand in the air quickly gathered everyone’s attention, their voices quieting down as they all turned to look at Rantaro; a serious expression was on his face as he crossed his arms, the air now completely silent as everyone stared at him.

“What’s…” Kaede paused, uncertainty written all over her face. “...what’s your idea, Rantaro?”

“Well, we erased the footage, right? So… how about we erase their memory too? Making them forget everything will solve both our problems.”

It was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, though your shuffling as you perked up at Rantaro’s words went unnoticed as everyone continued to stare at him; the first thing to break the group’s silence was the clap of Kaede’s hands as she clasped them together, a smile now on her face.

“That’s a great idea! It’s perfect!”

“Well, shit. That’s so simple!” The demon looked annoyed, averting her eyes from everyone else. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Don’t worry, Miu-” Kokichi had a wide grin on his face. “-we don’t expect much from you anyways!”

Korekiyo shifted the painting in his arms. “Interesting… how will we be performing this feat?”

“Obviously Himiko can do it!” Tenko exclaimed, a smug expression on her face as her tails happily swayed behind her, “She can do anything!”

“Nyeh..” Himiko lacked the enthusiasm Tenko had, her gaze lazily cast downwards as she frowned. “I don’t know… I’ve never done anything like that before…”

Angie held a paintbrush up to her chin. “I could ask Atua to do it, but he’s actually pretty busy right now.”

“Kokichi.”

The smiling boy looked over at the vampire who had said his name.

“Yes…?”

“You should be able to do that, right? Make them forget?”

Kokichi let out a long hum, continuing to smile all the while. “Maybe… but why should I? That’s the most boring thing we could do.”

His smile just grew as almost everyone started complaining — all of which was directed at him, of course; irritated mentions of his name were thrown around within the mumbling and grumbling and arguing that you couldn’t otherwise make out the words of, though you did hear a “fucking shota prick” somewhere in the mix of angry comments.

“Well…” Kokichi dragged the word out. “...since you’re all asking sooo nicely…”

You jolted when his gaze landed on you, and immediately glared at him as he started walking towards you.

“Absolutely not!” You thrashed around in your silky strait-jacket. “You can’t do this! What’ll I tell my subscribers?!”

Kokichi tilted his head. “Subscribers?”

“Uh, yeah! My subscribers! Followers! Whatever you want to call them!” You kicked your legs, causing Kirumi to hold you a little further away from herself. “I can’t let you disappoint a thousand people by erasing my memory! I refuse! I’m supposed to bring them the latest and best in ghost news!”

“A thousand followers…” Kokichi mumbled to himself, before a cheeky smile appeared on his face as he let out a laugh, “How cute! Come back and talk to me when you’ve got ten thousand!”

“No, no, no!” You tried to lean away from him as he got closer. “You can’t do this!”

“Mmm… yes, I can-” He leaned in closer, raising up a hand. “-and I will!”

He poked your nose with his finger.

“Boop!”

- - - - -

You let out a small groan as you placed a hand on your head, your eyes cracking open slowly as you squinted at the bright daylight that dared to burn your retinas. “...wait, daylight?”

The sight of a bright blue sky was above you, a few white clouds sailing by on the breeze, and you stared at it for a moment before pushing yourself up into a sitting position — your gaze was immediately shifted to allow you to see that you were, indeed, outside. You were currently sitting on a patch of soft grass and dirt, a massive fence just a few meters away from you.

You looked down at yourself, cringing slightly at the dirt stains on your clothing and skin; they almost made it look like you had been tossed onto the ground from the way they were smeared.

That became more of an actual possibility when you noticed how achy your entire body was.

You just shook yourself fully awake and checked the backpack that was next to you — your camera’s battery was low, you were missing a flashlight, and you had a water bottle full of empty granola bar wrappers. “That’s weird… I packed all of this for my trip just yesterday…”

You paused.

“Wait… what day is it?”

You whipped out your phone, your gaze immediately locking onto the date that was displayed on the lock screen: it was the next day — as in, the next day after the day you planned to take your next trip. You blinked, before twisting around to look at the massive fence next to you.

The property beyond the fence was out of your sight from where you were sitting, but you already knew exactly what it was  — the Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles. 

You had researched the place so thoroughly that you could probably pass a test on its history and prominence in society; not that it had much, but still. There wasn’t anything about ghostly activity occurring there in your research, unfortunately, but you concluded that was just because hardly anybody had set foot in there since its closure all those years ago. That had just made it all the more appealing to you, the fact that not many had dared to explore inside its walls.

But you dared to.

You were going to be one of the few to venture inside and- you were going to- going to?

But… didn’t you already go inside?

You winced, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your hands grabbed at your head; a sudden pain struck your brain, making you fall over as your thoughts stopped in their tracks.

Images of a place you didn’t recognize flooded into your head: overgrown plants growing through cracked floor tiles, hot-pink polka-dotted stairs, an endless hallway straight-out of a horror movie, stain-glass windows that seemed like they belonged in a church…

…and a group of blurry figures standing around you, their voices muffled and echoing in the back of your head as you realized that you knew who they were.

The pain stopped as you gasped again, this time being a surprised gasp; a happy gasp.

Your hands slowly moved away from your head as you smiled and sat back up, the wetness on your cheeks ignored as you let out a small giggle. You soon got back on your feet, and turned to face the massive fence a few meters away from you before you hummed, turning away from it.

You grabbed your backpack, throwing your arms through the straps as you began walking away, home being your next destination.

Your footage may have been deleted, and you may have been thrown out…

…but there was always next time.

[insurrection-if]

Dearil (CARDINALS)

Dearil | 41 | General | Death | Minor Romance

Upon his initial judgment, destiny denied him. Casted aside, degraded to mere servitude, Dearil considered his misfortune to be a harsh mercy. The walls of his lowly imprisonment kept the horrors quiet, the anguish melodic, and the silence intact whenever he sought escape in dreams. Numb to his rotting within the shadows, Dearil found comfort in his worship of a soul so divine who met his adoration with little initial regard. Yet, in time, fate's eye landed upon him.

His fickle peace did not last. He has been reshaped. Reborn. In time, Dearil succumbed to his purpose.

It would not be until young adulthood that Dearil encountered the outside world. Ruined and wretched he proclaimed himself to be, yet once again Dearil would find solace amidst his grief: his divine calling. Dearil exacted his revenge upon the world, rising from subtly to absolute terror as his massacres became more public and reckless. Dearil reaped the souls that failed to satisfy his judgement, and soon his visage became stained with sickness, ashes, and blood.

When the RAVENS captured him, he urged for his release into the damnation that death promised him. Yet they did not heed his words. Thus, they cannot blame him for his eventual, unprecedented, escape back into the free world. Straight into the grasp of Uriel who ascended him to the position of a Left-Hand Man.

Dearil has yet to vanquish the sickly nature of his appearance. Worn thin from weary travels and imprisonment, he has only recently begun to display signs of recovery in his physique. His light olive skin bears a leathery touch, his pianist hands have grown calloused, and his sunken complexion bruises with ease. Across his tall frame, one that stands at 6'3" when not defensively or mockingly hunched, are sporadically inflicted scars from his youth. Most striking among them would be the unidentifiable branding scorched between his shoulder blades that he allows no others to witness. The rare few that have met their violent ends shortly after.

His straight strands of hair bear an impossibly dark shade and, when unstyled from their typically slicked fashion, reach down to his mid-cheek. Dark stubble coats his sharp jaw, highlighting his thin-topped lips and their smirks, which he thinks distracts from the gauntness of his cheeks. His crooked nose and the bags under his eyes seem so natural to his appearance, yet his heavy lashes may draw attention away from these features.

Perhaps most iconic to his person is the leather patch above his right eye, one that masks the gouged wound he earned some time ago. Dearil bears no insecurities about his visage without the small aid. And the eye that remains, one so piercing and narrowed, thus stands out all the more with reflective midnight shade.

His attire throughout life has mostly been loaned, stolen, or ragged due to circumstance. Among the CARDINALS, he has taken a recent liking to V-necks and turtlenecks alike in casual company paired with a leather belt, older jeans, and leather boots. In public, however, he would rather cloak his visage beneath dark hoodies, black trench coats, button-ups, leather gloves, and sunglasses to obscure as much of himself as possible.

As a Minor Romance . . . (Easier with certain personality traits and physical markers.)

Dearil is not capable of affection. Not in its traditional sense. 

Do not be mistaken. He does not bear affection for you. Not one born from true fondness or deep attraction. No, you are deluded if you think yourself worthy of his honest romantic or physical attention. But you are cute. Pathetic and cute. You are not worth considering an adversary. You are weak. He will not belittle himself by acting as though you are anywhere close to being his equal.

. . . But did he mention that you are cute? Like a little rabbit quaking before the wolf. It is little, cute things like you that make the finest entertainment. An endearing plaything to tease and amuse before his inevitable boredom has you put to rest.

He wants to be the one to claim you in the way only he can. He wants to be the last face you see, the last voice you hear, and the last touch you feel. He wants to be your end. And so he shall be, understand?

This will bear an impact on Uriel’s perception of you. Not quite a ‘romantic’ pursuit, but rather a playful condescension born from endearment that he will eventually smother into hateful obsession. In the end, it will wane into cruel apathy. That is the moment he will claim your life in his hands . . . or so he envisions your fate to be.

Dearil possesses a multi-faceted gift that most commonly acts to wither away all things beneath his bare touch.

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

-

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

-

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

-

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

-

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

-

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

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[happi-tree]

Sixteen

Hello, lovebirds! Here’s a bit of fic that I wrote inspired by @shima-draws‘ BNHA Distortion Link AU from Nexus’ POV! Check out her blog for more info about it. I’ll put the fic under a read more, so continue on if you’re interested! TW for blood and vague, semi-graphic descriptions of corpses.

Midoriya Izuku is 16 years old when his world is ripped out from underneath his feet. 

He awakens to silence - not the peaceful quiet of early mornings that he has become long accustomed to, but to a sheer and utter absence of sound. Not a whisper of birdsong, not a single utterance of cacophony caused by the morning commute traffic in Musutafu. The quiet is eerie, anticipatory, waiting to be shattered, and Izuku gets the distinct feeling that he’s the final character in some horror flick. 

His alarm clock blares “The morning is here!” again in a robotic facsimile of All Might’s voice. Izuku startles, badly, slamming his hand down on the alarm to silence it. A breeze outside grows in intensity, slamming into the walls. The ticking of clocks, the groaning of a house in its death throes, and the rushing of blood in Izuku’s ears are the only sounds now. 

Something is very wrong.

Izuku picks his way across the room to his window, lifting the blinds, and nearly retches at what he sees.

The streets aren’t clogged with cars or buses; the sidewalks are vacant of pedestrians. Instead, the concrete is dyed red with blood, puddles of it seeping into potholes, into gutters. Bodies, for as long as the eye can see, line the walkways and the asphalt at irregular intervals, their eyes unseeing, their mouths open in shock, their forms contorted and still in pools of burgundy-ebony. Newly deceased, the analytic, detached part of Izuku’s brain observes, noting the absence of stench and lack of buzzing flies. 

As much as Izuku desperately wants this to be some horrible nightmare, he knows deep in his bones that this is all too terribly real.

And then he looks up.

Up to the sky, where his fated enemy is silhouetted against the soot-stained crimson of dawn, wreathed in clouds of smoke like the angel of death incarnate. But Izuku knows that this man is far from angelic - there is no mercy in these deaths, no just judgement present in any fiber in his body as he hovers, gloatingly, backlit by the red-orange sun. 

All for One, in all his age, has never been a creature of compassion.

With the taste of bile and ash in his mouth, Izuku frantically grabs his hoodie from where it lays across the back of his desk chair, shrugging it on. Throwing open his closet door, he pulls on the boots of his Hero costume, barely managing to fumble their laces into a proper knot and swiping his gloves from where they sit draped over his tool belt. 

One for All rockets to the surface of his skin within milliseconds, his racing heartbeat and heightened anxiety calling the Quirk to activation in record time, and Izuku breaks down the front door of his house, sprinting into the streets of the world on its final day with eight souls singing across the lightning in his veins.

It is not enough.

-

Midoriya Izuku is 16 years old when he opens his eyes to the Beyond for the first time. 

The confusion only lasts for a few moments before memories - billions of them, thoughts that are not his, were never meant to be his - shove themselves into his still-growing mind, flooding his neurons until they threaten to combust. All at once, Izuku knows where he is. Izuku knows what happened to his world; rather, the world that was once his.

Now, Izuku knows everything, and it is with absolute, mind-numbing certainty that he knows that his universe is gone.

He is the sole survivor, the lone occupant of this plane of in-betweens, where both nothing and everything is real. He feels at once impossibly heavy and weightless, power sitting leaden in his bloodstream, pulsating in time with his paradoxically-beating heart, countless lives weighted and compressed upon his mind, their taste like copper on his tongue. 

Tears flow freely from his eyes, saline globules suspended in the not-air of the Beyond as he weeps and as he feels. Seven billion lifetimes of emotions flash through his mind’s eye like an old film reel, impossibly fast, impossibly hard to differentiate. Love and heartbreak and joy and sorrow and anger and contentment and longing and desperation and too many other feelings to name overcome him, and Izuku cries out, his strangled voice the only sound amidst the deep shifting colors of the void, utterly human and utterly alone. 

Even heroes need to cry, sometimes, Todoroki’s voice seems to whisper to him, and Izuku’s body wrenches with the force of his sobbing, clinging to himself and wishing beyond anything for the phantom comfort of a friendly hand upon his shoulders. 

How can I ever call myself a Hero when I failed my entire universe?

After a time - perhaps seconds, perhaps centuries - Izuku’s cries pitter out, and he straightens enough that his feet find contact with something solid. Opening his eyes once more, he finds that his tears, spheres of liquified crystal, lay suspended across the not-space, twinkling like so many stars. For all the pain that they had caused him, Izuku finds beauty in their sorrow, trying not to tear up again as he thinks of the shifting constellations of his homeland, their lights forever extinguished. 

The memories threaten to overturn his mind again, but Izuku holds firm, pushes past the grief and the sorrow. He is the sole occupant of the Beyond, the Nexus, a realm that oversees every universe, every timeline. The weight of countless worlds rests on his shoulders now, and Izuku cannot allow himself to crumble beneath it any longer. Infinite power - so much that the feeble, human part of his mind can scarcely begin to comprehend its beginning or its end - resides in his soul, stitched into the fabric of his being. 

<If I could not be the Hero my own world needed,> Izuku speaks into the void, curling his hands into fists, <maybe I can be the Hero that the rest of them deserve.>

So many lives are in need of protection, in need of saving. And now, here I am, with the power to look after every single one of them. What kind of Hero would I be if I didn’t use this power to help them? For the first time in a long time, Izuku laughs - a hollow, broken laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

<Plus ultra.> Izuku says to the unspeaking, unblinking void. He cracks his knuckles, takes a deep breath, and then gets to work overseeing the multiverse. 

-

Midoriya Izuku is still 16 years old when he feels the first disturbance in the Beyond. 

The new presence feels scarcely like a blip on his radar, as quick and meaningless as the blink of an eye. But after centuries and centuries of absolutely nothing, a spark of excitement - an emotion almost foreign to him, now - makes itself known in the cavity of his chest, bright and white-hot. Alongside it, an equally strange feeling: hope. 

The fabric of the Beyond bends itself around him, malleable and fluid as it bows to his whims and carries him to the source of the disturbance.

Izuku watches as a corner of his world blurs green. A figure, human, falling endlessly, glitching in and out between this plane and the one to which they belong. Reaching out with his mind, Izuku nearly reels back in shock with what he discovers.

Because the figure trapped between realms is him.

Well, one of him, Izuku should say. Across the multiverse are countless Midoriya Izukus. For whatever reason, this one seems to have gotten himself into a bit of trouble.

A constant for all Izukus, getting into trouble, he muses as his other semi-conscious self falls infinitely. 

Probing further, it looks like this particular Izuku is from a world quite similar to his own. Time slows, solid in his grasp, to allow him to decipher the teal of his Hero outfit, bits of blood scattered across his freckles from a previous fight. Clearly, this Izuku had no intention of coming here, and is likely feeling very out of sorts. How he got here in the first place is a wonder, but not for long.

Memories of his double flash through his mind. The patrol assignment. Uraraka, Todoroki, Ojirou, Shigaraki, Kurogiri’s faces come to mind in consecutive flashes, and his knees nearly buckle at the sight of their familiarity. One for All activating in tandem with Kurogiri’s portal, disturbingly reminiscent of the moment that ripped the fabric of his homeland apart.

Ah, there it is.

Izuku’s power comes to grasp the connection tethering his doppelgänger to the Beyond, and he hears a gasp. 

Well, that wouldn’t do. Not that Izuku has ever seen this happen before, but he has the sinking feeling that shoving his other self back into his own universe will not erase the connection entirely. There’s something wild about it, unstable. Dangerous.

Izuku walks closer to his double’s side, time grinding to a halt.

<I’m sorry for this, but you’ll likely see more of me,> he says to himself, taking in the other Izuku’s gaping expression and wide eyes, imprinting the familiar lines of his Hero suit into his vision alongside the spattering of freckles and the smears of dirt. 

<For now, though, I’ll try to get you home. You’re doing so well, you know. I’ve been watching.>

Gently, Izuku presses a fingertip to his doppelgänger’s forehead and watches as he reappears through the tear into his own timeline.

A universe away, provisional Hero Deku returns to his friends with shaking hands, a phantom warmth between his brows, and an odd feeling of recognition in his chest.

-

Nexus is 16 years old when he sees the sky again for the first time in millennia. 

[scribbledquillz]

Your Fire Burns in My Veins

A Dragon Age: Origins Fanfic - Updated Sep. 16th, 2021

Chapter 3 - Ill Intentions

Summary:

Zevran's decision is made, and his plan set in motion. All that remains is to gather a few extra hands.

The cold and damp clung to Ferelden like a pauper to their cloak, all the more wretched for their stubborn persistence well into what was supposed to be summer. Every step felt heavier here. Bogged down by mud, rain and the constant looming shroud of clouds all too happy to smother the land beneath their weight. Not even the sun seemed capable of staving off such a menace, its light shattered and scattered into thin, feeble rays where it managed to break through the gloom at all. It was no wonder the people here had proven to be so unwaveringly dour. What other choice was there, when the country itself seemed determined to wallow in its own misery?

“You’re doing it again.”

Zevran dragged his attention away from the window begrudgingly, back to the tavern he’d have long since come and gone from under better circumstances. Or more likely avoided entirely, along with the swamp of a province it sat in. The hall - if such a cramped space could be called anything so grand - mimicked its surroundings impeccably. A musty stench permeated everything within, the dark and warped wood made into its walls and floor no doubt denied the chance to properly dry for months. A rough-built hearth of stone and mortar sat sputtering along the far wall, its fire little more than embers and fat plumes of smoke. It filled the room with a heavy haze, giving his vision the softened, otherwordly appearance of Fade dreams brought to him in sleep. The more merciful ones, at any rate.

“If you’re that bored I can just be off,” the woman - Luca? Luisa? No, Lucea, that was it - said with a sniff. She twisted up her face into an ugly, petulant pout, jutted lip and puffed cheeks souring what little pleasantness there was to find in her company. All for the sake of a ruse, and a poor one at that, given she made no effort to remove herself from her place in his lap. “I’ve better things to do than sit around waiting on nothing and being ignored for the trouble of it, you know.”

Her act began to falter the instant his eyes settled on her again, though he had to offer her some commendation for her dedication to the act. But stubbornness would never win out against honed skill. The lines at his brow softened as he canted his head just so to one side, both small but effective gestures to make the coming lie sound sweet. They worked a charm, as they always did, strengthened with a gentle nudge of his fingers at the curve of her jaw.

“My sincerest apologies," He said as she nuzzled her chin into his hand like a self satisfied cat, and he surrendered his longing for the sun to the darkness. Perhaps for good this time. "Please, forgive my distraction. I was merely thinking over the finer points of our arrangement. But that is no excuse for poor manners. A vision such as yourself should not go squandered. Please-" The arm wrapped about her back shifted, practiced fingers dragging a languid path up the length of her spine, her neck, and drawing out a shiver in their wake. “-allow me to make amends for my lapse in judgement. Perhaps with another drink?”

She turned a smirk into his palm, and he felt nothing when she nipped her teeth into his flesh. “I suppose that’s a fair enough apology. To start. It’s not like I can stay mad at the prettiest man this side of the Frostbacks, can I?”

“You flatter me, piccola spina .” His fingers trailed away from her in favor of the pitcher waiting on a table in front of them, a heavy pour offered up to the flagon Lucea held out in one pale, taloned hand. His own cup - still untouched save the first regretted sip - found its way into his grip afterward, the sting of sour grog biting at his nose as he raised it. “A toast. To your grace, generosity, and a most fortuitous partnership.”

“To all of that, and a fat purse of coin waiting for us at the end.”

“But of course,” he said as he watched her drink down an impossible draw, the sip he took of his own not to blame for the bitterness coating his tongue. “To each of us the reward we so richly deserve.”

Continue the story on AO3 or start from the beginning

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 11 - dreameater

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a/n: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this story. Thank you all for the kind comments! ;-; @fishyfish-y @writingmi @just-some-stars 

 —

ch 11 | dreameater

The memories you had of the rest of the night were fragmented, incoherent — just a few rare flashes of consciousness.

You did not know how long you were stuck within the amber, but you knew fear, and darkness, and suffocation; felt the energy draining right out of you into the crystal. Though you had briefly been resigned to your fate, the thought of Zhongli suddenly had you struggling with renewed vigor. 

You wanted to see him again. You wanted to live. 

—-

For as long as you could, you tried to stay conscious. You thought about Zhongli’s eyes, how they twinkled gold under any light. About how warm his hands had been, holding yours. His hearty laugh, and how it stole your breath away each time you managed to coax it out of him. The knowing smile he wore as he told you stories and corrected the ones you were reading. His voice, rich and deep; his lips around your name— 

The mercy he had shown you, where he had been well within his rights to be cruel. The way he had taught you of a life worth living. 

—-

There was a strange, cold heat between your collarbones. Perhaps, you wondered absently, the amber was reacting with the jade in your necklace. For a moment, it seemed like it would burn a hole right through your throat, but after a while, the heat subsided.

—-

Somewhere along the line, your thoughts shifted from a steady mantra of Zhongli Zhongli Zhongli to: Rex Lapis . 

Though you were sure that the former Archon received no lack of desperate prayers, even with his apparent death, you still prayed fervently, offering contracts that you’d find some way of fulfilling: you would bring Osmanthus Wine to his statues, you would learn to use your Vision, you would learn to fight and defend Liyue from monsters—

—-

Somewhere outside the pitch darkness of the amber, you heard a loud whoosh; and even through the sap, you could feel the familiar warmth of Geo. Of Zhongli’s Geo. 

Oh.

You could barely let yourself hope, even as a brilliant golden glow shone through the thick walls of your prison. Even as the amber cracked open with a deafening groan, slowly at first, then shattering into millions of fragments. 

—-

You found yourself on your knees, savoring the damp mud against your skin and the cold air deep in your lungs. Solid arms gathered you, gently bringing you to your feet. 

You threw out your hands and wrapped them tightly around your savior, despite the hideous pain in your wrist, deeply breathing in the scent you had long since begun to know as “home”. 

“You’re safe now,” Zhongli murmured, “I’m here.” 

—-

You blinked back the relief that welled up in your eyes, a sudden bout of exhaustion and pain rendering you limp in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, “I’m getting mud on your coat.”

Zhongli made a noise you had never heard him make before, sort of a laugh but not quite. “ Oh , Hansi ,” he shook his head. “My coat is the least of my worries. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I think my hand is broken.”

“Hmm.” Zhongli gently lifted your arm, examining your swelling wrist with composure that you didn’t think 

Behind Zhongli, in the dim light, you noticed a small movement amidst the grass. Suddenly, you remembered where you were, the danger you were both in. “Watch out!” you cried, gripping his sleeve with your good hand and trying to run. Without his support, your legs immediately buckled, but Zhongli caught you before you hit the ground. “Zhongli, be careful, the Adepti— they’ll kill you—”

Zhongli exhaled lightly and to your bewilderment, showed not even the slightest hint of panic or fear on his face. With a gloved finger, he gently pushed the damp hair from your cheeks, then looked up at the mountain where you came, eyes sharp. Suddenly, you were no longer afraid. 

“ She is under my protection .” Zhongli’s voice was not loud, but even more than usual, it was resonant. Before you gave in to the heavy calm of sleep, you swore for a moment that you saw the amber ends of his hair glow the same warm hue of his eyes. “ Do keep your karst crawlers in check, Mountain Shaper .”

—-

The next time you slipped back into consciousness, you awoke to a rhythmic swaying. You blinked the sleep away from your heavy eyelids, peering up, and your heart skipped a beat. 

Zhongli was carrying you effortlessly, one of his hands under your knee and the other supporting your back. 

Your cheek was pressed firmly against his solid chest. Was it your imagination, or was his heartbeat… too slow, each resonant thump far too many seconds apart? 

It was freezing. The amber had kept you insulated, but now that you were out in the air again, your damp hair and clothes caught the bitter windchill and made you shiver. Zhongli paused in his steps.

“You’re cold,” he asked, and without waiting for a response, began shrugging off his coat. Your protests died on your lips when he gingerly draped you in it, carefully avoiding your broken wrist. The residual heat from his body offered a much welcome warmth. You inhaled deeply into the silk and hoped he did not notice.

Between the rocking of Zhongli’s footsteps, the gentle moonlight, and your newfound comfort, sleep found you quickly once more.

—-

You never thought that you’d see the woodlands outside Zhongli’s house again, yet the welcome and familiar sight greeted you the next time you opened your weary eyes. 

“Are you able to stand?” He asked. You hesitantly nodded, then crumpled immediately when he gently lowered you to the ground. 

“Actually,” you corrected, grabbing onto Zhongli to steady yourself, black spots on your vision like ink stains, “no.”

With furrowed brows, Zhongli deftly removed one of his gloves and pressed the back of his hand against your clammy forehead. “You have a fever,” he stated, “Go get changed—” The world lurched, the black spots growing bigger and Zhongli’s voice becoming distant. “Hansi? Hansi, stay awake—” 

—-

When you dredged yourself back into consciousness, you were inside the warmth of the house, sitting on the side of your bed. Zhongli was meticulously, slowly, peeling the wet silk off of your damp skin, and though you felt a brief surge of shame through your haze of torpor, there was no judgement in his gaze — only concern.

As he raised your arm to wrap a large coat around you, you realized that your wrist had been put into a splint, wrapped neatly in a small white towel. 

After Zhongli was finally satisfied with the layers upon layers of clothing he had piled upon you, he covered you with a thick blanket. You supposed that it was a cause for concern that despite everything, you were still cold, but for the moment, you were so comfortable and content that you did not mention it. 

Finally, Zhongli stepped back, and you noticed the empty space on your windowsill. Oh . “I’m so sorry,” you suddenly blurted, the horrible memory of what had happened that night suddenly rushing back. “I lost the dragon’s tooth. We were attacked by an Abyss Mage, and- and--” 

Zhongli’s thumb gingerly brushed over your lips, quieting you instantly. “As long as it protected you, it has served its purpose,” he said, as though you hadn’t just lost a priceless heirloom from his old friend. “What matters is that you are safe.” 

—-

You fell into fits of feverish sleep. 

The grotesque chittering of the Abyss Mage, the blood on Xiangling’s fingers, and the endless hungry darkness of the amber swirled about in your mind each time you closed your eyes. 

Several times, you found yourself waking up with Zhongli’s name on your lips, but each time, the chair by your bed remained empty. 

—-

You would not remember this, but: at some point of that night, you found yourself once more in the realm of cloud and dust of your dreams.

Relieved, you looked up in search of the familiar silhouette of Zhongli, to once more watch him in peace and quiet. 

Instead, you met golden, reptilian eyes, each the size of dinner plates.

A monstrous dragon was curled in a wide circle around you, the berth of which scaled larger than Zhongli’s house. Its scales were like terraced fields, each one shining its own spectrum of brilliant, iridescent gold. For a moment, you were enamored by how beautiful — how oddly familiar — the beast before you was. 

But mostly, you debated begging for your life.

Its mighty head was lowered just enough that you could see it was looking straight at you, and when it opened its mouth to speak, it revealed rows of huge, wickedly sharp fangs. They looked just like the tooth you had lost. You dropped to your knees, pressing your forehead to the ground, knowing now who stood before you. 

“She will not remember this dream ?”

The dragon’s mouth barely moved, but its deep, guttural voice seemed to shake the world itself. You raised your gaze slightly and saw, under the dragon’s head, a young man with dark hair and green-blue undertones. He was also staring at you intently, and unlike the dragon, there was disdain clear in his eyes.

“No, Rex Lapis,” he said, shortly. “Not when I’m done.” 

“How is she faring ?”

“I can’t tell until I consume it,” the young man shook his head, and vaguely, you realized they were talking about you. “But the dream is stable, and so it seems, is her mind. Rest assured that Jueyun Karst has not broken her like it does so many other mortals.” 

Rex Lapis’ body, all scales and sinew, seemed to visibly relax.

“I must apologize for placing this task upon you. But it is imperative she does not remember this when she wakes up. I fear that she is not yet ready for the truth.”

The young man exhaled in quiet resignation. “You gave me my name, and you released me from an endless darkness,” he said, and with a deft wave of his hand, donned a beastly fanged mask over his face. “At your request, I would lay down my life a thousand times over, Rex Lapis.”

“Thank you, Xiao . Do proceed.”

The dragon cast one last lidded glance at you, dipping its head as if to leave. You don’t know where within your lungs you find it in you to whisper: “ wait .”

To your absolute astonishment, Rex Lapis did, once more turning to look at you expectantly. 

Rex Lapis. Giving you the time of his day. You hadn’t cried in a very, very long time, but you thought that you might just start right then and there.

“Speak, mortal,” the young man — had Rex Lapis called him Xiao? — snapped, crossing his arms. “Don’t waste his time.” The curtness stung, but it helped snap the fuzzy panic right out of your head. 

“Your majesty,” you bowed low once more. Was that how you were meant to address an Archon? You certainly didn’t know! “Wh— why did you give me a Vision? Was it a mistake? Do you— do you want it back?” 

The words felt as stupid coming out of your mouth as they did in floating around in your head. 

You heard Xiao snort incredulously, but Rex Lapis stared at you for a moment, unblinking and as still as a rock. You had begun to wonder if “begging for your life” was still on the table, when the dragon’s massive head shook gently from side to side. 

“A mistake? ” Even in his deafening timbre, you could hear incredulity. The clouds, the dust, the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway. “ Is that why you have not told...?”

There was a brief pause. 

“My dearest Hansi, nothing I have done for you is a mistake.”

If you weren’t already on your knees, hearing your name rumbled from between his fangs would have brought you to them. It was not the first time , you realized, something deep within you rearing its head. It was not the first time you had heard that guttural voice utter your name. 

“Rex Lapis, if I may be so bold as to ask,” Xiao asked, “just what is this mortal to you?”

It was not the first time you had met Xiao, either.

“She is under my protection” , the dragon responded shortly. “ As I once was under hers.”

Under his… protection?

All at once, you realized whom the dragon’s golden, iridescent gaze reminded you of. Your lips formed around his name, just as Xiao stepped forward and raised one clawed hand.

—- 

You woke up to the soft morning light, your head once more feeling like it had been stuffed full of cotton. Though you didn’t know how it was possible, you felt hot and cold at the same time. 

Wondering how many days had passed, you sat up slowly, but even that small motion made you retch. 

You’d had a dream. You didn’t remember what it was, but it was vitally important— that much you knew. Thinking about it too much made your head hurt. Giving up for the moment, you reached out for where your cup usually was; yet your fingers wrapped around something smooth and cold. 

On your bedside table, next to a cup of steaming tea, sat the dragon’s tooth — the only indication that it had ever left the house: a charred ring where it had met the Abyss Mage’s fiery shield. 

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 25: Odd Ailment

Warning: strong language, sexual themes, fingering, vaginal penetration, cream pie, mentions of death, grave robbing, mild explosions

Summary: Juniper’s sickness doesn’t go away…leaving her wracking her brain for answers.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

In the days following, Juniper’s nausea did not go away. It would lull at times, giving her the confidence to try to help out in the shop again. But, inevitably, when she caught the smell of the rotting blood and old organs, it would hit her like a heavy stone all over again.

She was still hungry and never developed a fever. Heisenberg insisted it was the cadou, that it could do damn near anything to her system, and at first she believed it to be true.

As the days dragged on, that belief waned more and more.

Heisenberg on the other hand was determined to just wait it out, giving her space and refraining from asking for help with Soldats. He was long used to working alone so fell back into the routine easily.

Being able to return to the apartment to see Juniper and sleep beside her at night was more than enough for him, for the time being at least.

He sat before the many monitor screens, waiting and watching. There were multiple cameras in the village itself, set up at key points of interest: the church, town center, the cemetery, the ceremony site, and every way in or out.

His pale eyes scanned over them all, silently hoping for someone, somewhere, to fuck up enough to put them in an early grave.

While he waited, he worked on other things. Today he worked on making improvements to his Panzer designs. Determination fluttered in the pit of his stomach, unwilling to let these new creations turn out like Sturm.

Eventually as the day ticked on there was a commotion in the town center. Heisenberg set his pencil down, glancing up. There was a crowd of people gathering around a cart, one villager trying to calm an obviously spooked horse.

Heisenberg turned a knob to zoom in and get a better look. There was a villager on the ground, unmoving and bleeding. It looked as if the cart or horse had run them over. Heisenberg smiled, a new body he could snap up.

He stood from the desk, gathering up papers and his stray hat as he headed back to the apartment.

“Honey I’m home!” He burst through the door, his voice mimicking an old family sitcom.

Juniper looked up from her reading, face brightening at his chipper tone.

“You seem awfully happy today.” She commented as he strode forward.

“It’s a fine day.” He smiled back, making a show of removing his hat and glasses, “Guess what just happened.”

Closing her book, she gave a guess, “New project idea?”

“No.”

“Soldat?”

“Nope.”

“Sturm finally started working properly?”

Heisenberg snorted, “As if. All wrong, buttercup.”

“Oh just tell me, you silly man.” She exclaimed with a smile.

He leaned on the table, placing his weight on his palms, “Now where’s the fun in that?”

She purses her lips in annoyance earning her a chuckle from him before he finally gave her the answer, “Alright, alright, I’ll go easy on you. Someone just died!”

“And that’s why you’re so happy?” She almost scoffed.

“Well yea.” He shrugged, “I finally caught a young one getting smoked on the cameras.”

“Young one?” Juniper’s eyes were full of concern.

“Not a kid!” Heisenberg corrected quickly, “I’m not that evil of a bastard.”

“I suppose not…” she murmured, her mind clouding with other thoughts.

Juniper went to the counter, leaning against it as she looked out the tiny window over the sink. She gave a heavy sigh, hearing Heisenberg come up behind her. Gloved hands wrapped around her middle, pulling her back against his broad chest.

“Such a big sigh for my little wife.” He murmured into her ear.

“Mmmm.” She hummed, placing her hands over his own.

He rocked her a bit, asking, “How are you feeling today?”

“Better.” She nodded then more quietly admitted, “But still not good. It comes and goes.”

“How are you right now?” He asked before he dipped his head in to give her a rough kiss on her neck. She keened softly when his teeth nipped the sensitive skin.

“It’s mostly gone now.” She spoke breathily as he moved to the crook of her neck.

“Then how about,” he trailed his lips back up until he whispered the question into her ear, “We waste some time before I have to go, hm? Right here in the kitchen, even.”

“You’re terrible.” She gave out a little giggle.

“Hm?”

“That’s why you are being so sweet?”

“Sweet?” He echoed, “Would you rather me be rough with you? One comes much easier, buttercup, so be careful.”

She pressed her ass into his groin, giving a cheeky reply, “I’ll take my chances.”

Heisenberg gave a growl, moving forward to trap her body between himself and the counter.

He ground his hips into her own, cursing the fabric between them. Usually he would give her a chance to remove her dresses, to avoid getting chastised, but today he gave her no such mercy. After her playful provocation he ripped through the material of her skirt. Before she could curse him he forced her face into the counter.

She mewled when he shoved two fingers into her already moistening hole.

“Look at you, already a mess.” He jeered, finger fucking her and making her thighs shiver. He did this for a short time until he was satisfied she was prepared enough. Heisenberg undid the zipper of his pants, pulling out his hard cock. He coated his member with her slick, lining himself up to her core.

Without warning he pushed forcefully into her. Juniper’s cry caught into her throat as she held onto the counter.

She heard him groan over her as he pulled back slightly just to rock forward again.

He set a brutal pace, leaving Juniper crying out in pleasure. He forced her head down, the counter cool against her burning cheek.

“Like being fucked rough do you?” Heisenberg bared his teeth, not letting up, “Tell me whore.”

Juniper made a warbling gurgle, earning her a quick smack to the ass with his free hand.

“Y-yes master!” She managed, cunt clenching his cock.

Heisenberg’s lips twitched into an ever bigger smirk, his hips fucking into her own hard enough to bruise. The sound of their skin accompanied by the clinking of his metal charms filled the kitchen.

His thighs shook as he emptied in her, nostrils flaring like an angry horse. He took a few more heavy, ragged breaths before he pulled free from her heat. He looked proudly down at the thick string of come that connected their sexes, straightening his hat.

“I have to head out, Buttercup.” He patted her sore ass.

She gave out a weak reply, still trying to recover.

~

The nights were much warmer, mud soaking into Heisenberg’s boots. It made the digging fly by. The glow of the cigar’s hot cherry illuminated his dark shades as he watched the haulers get closer and closer to breaking the bottom.

“Keep going you stupid bastards!” Heisenberg growled, walking in a circle around the grave. The sickening feeling of grave robbing someone’s loved ones long since jaded from his mind, replaced with excitement over the prospect of new materials.

‘Materials’…Fuck he really was a monster.

He thought darkly. It didn’t have long to ruminate in his mind, a hollow thud sounded. Heisenberg ordered the haulers to pause, they made little screeches as they backed away from the hole.

Heisenberg took a shovel from one of the closer ones, jumping down into the hole. His boots made an echoy thud, as he took the shovel and scraped away the last layer of sediment. Using the blade he jimmied the coffin open. The smell of dried flowers hit his nose when it opened. The body was already starting to bloat slightly, unprotected by winter’s grasp.

He brushed away the flowers and coins on the man’s eyes, turning the body’s face in his hands.

Not big enough for his Panzer design but he would definitely make a good Soldat.

His lips twitched into a smile as he straightened, gesturing with a finger for the haulers to start the retrieval.

As they neared the factory, passing the scrapyard, something caught Heisenberg’s pale eyes in the moonlight.

He paused, the haulers deftly pushing the cart past him. The shape of a jet stuck out of the nearest pile, rusted and bent.

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips, an idea flashing in his mind. A glorious idea, a flying soldat!

“Get him inside!” Heisenberg yelled, turning fully towards the old jet. He raised his muddy, gloved hands. The object of his desire began to rattle and rise free. His lips split with the exhilaration of the new prospect.

~

The pale dawn filtered through the small windows when a Juniper awoke, Heisenberg had long since returned and went again. She looked at the muddy boot prints tracked across the apartment with a grimace.

Juniper started to stretch, stopping short when a light stinging pain tugged at her chest.

She sucked in a breath, cupping her breasts. They felt swollen and tender, more so than she could remember.

Worry pooled in her gut as she kneaded the flesh. Everything was adding up in a way she didn’t like, but she couldn’t be certain….

She finally broke down and asked the Duke for a special item. She made sure no prying ears were close, and Heisenberg had indeed trusted her to pick up the current shipment. This request was for the Duke’s ears only, he had an air of trustworthiness about him that Juniper felt she could ask him anything without fear of judgement.

When she made her request the Duke simply nodded, warning her such an item would take time to acquire.

Juniper nodded, no other choice but to wait.

So she waited, as patiently as one could with so much worry in her guts.

The weeks while she waited Heisenberg had started a new project. He had the terrifyingly brilliant idea to make flying Soldats. It ate up most of his time, trying to formulate the right type of core to allow flight.

The morning of the next shipment Juniper headed down to the workshop. The heat still affected her but since he wasn’t currently working with bodies it made it more tolerable to her recent tender stomach.

But today the smell of smoke and sulfur came from the shop. Her footsteps quickened, bursting through the door to see Heisenberg cleaning up after another small explosion.

He looked up at her sourly as he swept.

“What happened?” Juniper bent to pick up the nearest chunk of charred core.

Heisenberg’s lips were tight, “It blew up in my fucking face.”

“Honey…” Juniper came closer.

“Don’t start.” He huffed, turning towards her. Now that she could fully see his face she made a little sound of surprise. He looked up curiously.

“Oh Heis…your eyebrows had just grown back.” Juniper frowned.

Heisenberg threw the broom down, “Well they’re fucking gone again!”

He was simmering and fuming as she tried to help him clean. He finally cooled a bit to speak to her more calmly, “It’s almost time for the Duke’s shipment. Let’s go meet him.”

A thin sliver of alarm shot through her as she quickly spoke, “You have a lot going on down here, let me go get the shipment.”

He gave her a long look, but the morning had dulled his desire to argue.

“Fine…fine.” He waved her off.

Relief washed over her as she ascended the stairs back towards the elevator.

~

Blinking into the spring sun, she was surprised to see the Duke’s cart already waiting in the factory yard.

She quickly made her way over to him, hopeful.

“Hello Duke.” Juniper looked at her boots, worry heavy in her green eyes.

“Good day my dear.” He spoke, “I have the Lord’s shipment all prepared.”

“And the-?” She began to ask but the Duke cut her off.

“Of course.” The man picked up a small package from beside him, placing it in her hands, “Not the easiest thing to find all the way out here, but I have my ways.”

Juniper nodded, shoving it into her pocket, “T-Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, “And Lady Juniper?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck.” His voice was genuine.

They said their goodbyes. Juniper quickly brought in the delivery, not taking the time to go through it. She rushed onto the elevator, not wanting Heisenberg to question her absences.

~

She paced in the bathroom, anxiety eating up her core. She kept looking down at the small plastic stick on the sink. It felt like the longest two minutes of her life.

Her heart dropped, seeing a second little pink line staring back at her. She picked it up with a shaking hand, tears pricking her eyes.

Heisenberg said it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t human anymore, neither of them were.

The room span, she held her stomach.

She was a monster, full of infected parasites.

Juniper felt bile rise in her throat. Running from the bathroom onto the balcony.

Death was all around them. Mother Miranda twisting all those around her into nightmares.

She looked down at the stick one last time.

Maybe it was a mistake?

She knew it wasn’t.

Would Heisenberg tell her to leave? Would he hate her?

Tears ran down her cheeks as she threw the test off the balcony, it becoming lost in the piles of scrap far below.

Why them? Why were they so stupid? Why hadn’t they been so careful?

Questions thudded in her brain.

It wasn’t possible.

But it happened.

She was pregnant.

[guccidishtowel]

The Viscount’s Secret

NSFW UNDER CUT (Warnings under cut)

Fandom: Dragon Age

Words:  3859

Pairings: Varric/Reader

AO3: The Viscount’s Secret

Warnings: Thigh-Riding, Blowjobs, Light Dom/sub elements, Light Degredation (use of ‘whore’)

Walking into the Viscount’s Keep that afternoon, the tension had been palpable. Guards gave their usual greetings, nodding their heads and a few of the more friendly lot offering smiles, but their eyes carried that familiar glint that was just as telling as the muffled voices coming from the office.

The merchant bit back a quiet grin as the reason for their sudden summons became infinitely more clear.

The Viscount was having a bad day.

Halfway up the stairs they heard the telltale sound of something heavy thump against hardwood. Seneschal Bran had no doubt avoided a heavy tome to the head by mere millimeters yet again. They’d mounted the last step when he came stumbling out of the office, chased by a few quills and--if they saw correctly--a paperweight. The poor Seneschal met their eyes just as he closed the heavy doors and practically threw himself upon their mercy.

“He’s impossible!” Bran cried. Upon closer inspection they could see where a blotch of ink stained his forehead. Apparently Bran’s evasive maneuvers had been lacking. “I don’t know how you manage to do it, but please calm him down. We have a stack of correspondence growing larger by the moment and this is certainly not helping!”

They gave him a sympathetic smile, complete with a pat on his shoulder and a subtle gesture to his forehead and sent him on his way--hopefully to clean the ink off. No one else populated the upper floor; apparently no one wanted to encounter the Viscount’s wrath. ‘All the better for me,’ they thought, a wicked smile darting across their face.

They approached the heavy wooden door to the office and lingered outside for just a moment. Even through the thick wood they could hear the telltale sounds of frustrated pacing and smiled to themselves. Perhaps it was self-serving, but when the Viscount was this worked up it always ended up far more in their favor. The familiar thrill of anticipation slipped up their spine like a lover's caress, lighting every nerve on fire. Being such an open secret was interesting. Officially they were just a merchant of some means and one of the Viscount’s personal favorites, often requested to help with balancing numbers or bringing in specialized shipments. Unofficially…

They bit their lip in anticipation, soft lips quirking upwards as they knocked once on the heavy doors.

“The next person who walks through those blighted doors is meeting the business end of Bianca!”

His rough voice sent tingles up their spine, and the quiet fury beneath the words only added to the flame. His threats weren’t always unfounded, but even as agitated as he was he wouldn’t turn his trusty crossbow on one of his own. Still, when they cracked open the heavy door they made sure to let their voice reach him before presenting any potential targets.

“Even when it’s me?” Finally poking their head inside, they were greeted by the sight of Varric’s office in even more disarray than usual. A few of the heavy plush chairs had been overturned. The desk was littered with half-open correspondence, the stains of splashed wax and ink evident on more than one. Even the curtains had suffered a few minor wounds; apparently Bran had led Varric on a merry little chase around the office before making it out to safety.

And then there was the Viscount himself. Standing by the roaring fire with his shirt half open and a glass of what was surely poignant draught in his hand, he painted quite the image. Varric Tethras was a handsome man, of that there was no doubt. From the charming gleam in his eyes to the aged lines on his face, everything seemed to blend together into a visage so breathtaking most men and women would give their right arm for just a night with him. That’s how this merchant felt, at least. But now, with the dark cloud of anger shading his handsome features, he looked...somehow more enticing. A familiar heat began to rise in the pit of their stomach and as Varric threw back the glass to finish off the alcohol they licked their own lips, suddenly quite parched.

“Sorry for the mess, Mischief,” he began, and they didn’t bother to hide their smirk at the familiar nickname. “Today’s just...been a day.”

“I could tell. I think you’ve scarred poor Bran for life. Or at least the rest of the day if he can’t get that ink off his forehead.”

Despite his obvious frustration Varric chuckled, the soft grin breaking apart the dark clouds on his face. He stepped away from the fire and set his glass down to instead rummage around in the drawers of his desk. Soon enough he found another glass, filled both, and turned to pass one off to them with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

“Come on. You know I hate drinking alone. Besides,” he paused, letting his gaze roam over their form. They always felt a pleasant little shiver when under his scrutiny, and they didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened before he brought his own glass up, but he didn’t drink. Not yet. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

The promise in his eyes made their knees weak and the burn of good Ferelden brandy only stoked the fire growing on their stomach. Still they drank it down, hoping to stave off some of the thirst long enough to at least try and find the root of their Viscount’s frustration.

“To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” They finally asked, setting their half-emptied glass aside. “I haven’t seen you this worked up in a while.” It almost felt a shame to bring up business, especially when it made that delicious look fall from his face, replaced instead with an aching weariness out of place on a man so lively.

“It’s the Maker damn day that won’t end. I’ve got nobles squabling like toddlers--which isn’t anything fucking new--along with a whole heap of new laws to look over. Then there’s tying up the loose ends from the Inquisition which is a headache in and of itself. Shipments to look over, palms to grease, and enough signatures to pen that I can already feel my damn hand falling off.” He punctuated his tirade by dropping heavily into the chair behind his desk, glass still clutched in one hand and the other coming up to thumb at the space between his brows.

They pursed their lips, sympathetic expression at odds with the hunger from earlier. Perching themselves on the edge of his desk they brought a hand up to his head, their fingertips massaging into his scalp. As they predicted he leaned into their hand, his sigh rumbling through his chest. It wasn’t the first time a long day had left him more than a little frustrated, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d been called up to help him deal with the stress. There was no doubt how the night would end, but sometimes the moments before were just as important. Watching Varric’s shoulders lose their tension as he melted under their fingertips, they knew this was one of those times.

“Definitely sounds like a shitty day,” they agreed, smiling softly at his snort. His eyes had long since closed as he relaxed into their ministrations. There was something empowering about this, about having the Viscount of Kirkwall turn to putty in their fingers. Emboldened by the thought they slid off his desk and instead found themselves comfortably nestled on his lap, prompting him to finally peel his eyes open to observe them. Grinning down at him, they trailed the hand in his hair down, brushing over his temple until they found his jaw. “But I bet I can help you forget all about it.”

Varric’s lips curled and he turned his head, catching the tips of their fingers between his teeth. The subtle sting prompted them to chuckle as Varric moved to settle his broad hands on their hips. “You know I love to gamble, darlin’, but I don’t make stupid bets. We both know you’re going to turn my mood around.” The certainty in his tone was a stroke to their ego. It was hard to think this had all started from a single trip he’d made to the merchants quarters in Lowtown all those months ago.

“I’m at my lord’s service,” they purred, grinning when his expression morphed to one of minor irritation. His hands tightened on their hips in warning and they chuckled, bending forward to brush their lips over his ear. “Oh, let me have my fun.”

“By all means,” Varric replied, his voice husky. “But know it’s gonna cost ya.”

They smiled against his skin. “Mm, promises, promises…”

Promises that would be paid in full, it would seem. Varric finally moved, his mouth finding the skin of their throat and painting it with bruises. They tilted their head to allow him access, helping themselves to the expanse of skin his shirt exposed. The damn dwarf never covered his chest and it was honestly unfair just how distracting it was. Their fingers smoothed under the halves of his tunic, carding through the hair and feeling the muscle beneath their palms. Varric chuckled against their throat, his tongue and lips soothing another love bite.

“No one can resist,” he teased, earning a pinch when their fingers found his nipple. He grunted, the sound tapering into a low growl at the back of his throat. “Brat.”

“Only for you, your grace,” they replied. He glowered up at them, earning himself another wry smirk. “Going to bend me over your knee?”

There was a sudden gleam in Varric’s eyes that made them wonder if, perhaps, they’d made an error in judgement. They knew that look well. Just the sight of it had them tensing, a shot of arousal rushing through them. Varric tilted his head back, leaving their neck for now and instead settling his hands a little lower, spreading their thighs on either side of his own. Realization struck just as he dragged his hands back to their hips, rocking them forward gently. The friction drew a soft, shaky breath out of them that had Varric smirking.

“Well, we can certainly use my knee, but I think I’ve got better ideas than what you had in mind.”

His hands tugged, bringing them forward again, until he settled into a slow and steady rhythm. It was too slow and too light, but they had a feeling it was by design. They brought their hands to his shoulders, marveling quietly at the strength as he guided their motions. The slow build of pleasure promised to be worth it, but they weren’t a patient sort.

“I thought this was about you,” they huffed, their cheeks already blossoming with heat. “I don’t see how this is giving you what you want.”

“You’re right,” Varric shot back. “ This is about me and what I want. And what I want is to see you coming apart on my knee like a good little whore.”

The acidic words brought a small whimper out, the surprise on their face turning to pleasure when he roughly jerked them forward, picking up his pace. Varric chuckled as their fingers dug into his shoulders. “You like that, sweetheart? Like being the Viscount’s whore?”

They groaned aloud, dropping their head against his shoulder, hips rolling again as they ground against his thigh. “Now we’re using titles? I think you’re just being petty--fuck, Varric!” In the middle of their complaints the grinning dwarf had brought one hand up and then down just as swiftly, slapping against their ass with enough force to have them jolt.

“Hey now, you were the one that wanted to be bent over my knee, weren’t you?” he teased. “I think this is much better. Especially when I can see all those cute little faces you make. And speaking of that…”

With their face buried against him they couldn’t see what he had planned, but when strong fingers threaded into their hair it became abundantly clear. He tugged, pulling their head away from his shoulder and forcing them to arch back, throat exposed for his waiting teeth. He bit down roughly and they cried out, the sound ending on a gasp as he sucked at the abused skin. Satisfied, he broke away to look up into their face.

“Don’t hide from me. I wanna see all those little looks. I wanna see how good I make you feel, Mischief.” His hooded eyes sought their own, dark and wanting. They shuddered under the look, their hips moving of their own accord now, chasing their release desperately. Varric noticed and hummed, his fingers threading gently in their hair now. “That’s it. Take what you need from me, sweetheart.”

They didn’t last much longer after that. Rutting against his thigh like an animal and clinging to him, they broke apart just how Varric wanted, muffling their cry of pleasure by sinking their own teeth into his neck. Varric groaned at the sensation and would no doubt sport the bite proudly for the next few days. He took a ridiculous amount of pleasure from seeing all the nobles blush and look away, tittering and hiding their comments behind hands and ornamental fans.

It took a few moments for them to calm, the rush of pleasure leaving them momentarily light-headed. Varric carded his rough fingers through their hair gently, his voice soft and soothing in their ear.

“There’s my Mischief,” he murmured, the tone of his voice making them blush anew. “Good. Always so good for me.” It carried on that way for a few minutes until finally they straightened, standing from his lap only to drop to their knees. Varric blinked in surprise and they relished the thought; it took a lot to shock the blighted dwarf, after all.

“You know I’m not selfish, Varric,” they purred, all traces of the gasping and blushing from earlier gone. “Besides, I have to perform my civic duty, don’t I?” They were here on a mission, after all, and as nice as it was letting Varric have his way, they knew the best way to ease his stress was with a more hands on approach.

He’d appreciate the pun, they were sure.

Surprise turned to amusement and Varric answered by spreading his thighs invitingly. They settled between and smirked at the sight of the bulge straining against his breeches. A few deft tugs of the laces and he fell free, heavy and throbbing in their hand. Varric hissed above them, the light touch already wreaking havoc on his self-control. Humming in delight, they lifted their eyes to his, fingers closing as they began to slowly stroke his shaft.

“Don’t you have some correspondence to attend to?” they asked, a little too sweetly. “I promised Bran I would help you see reason, after all.”

Varric groaned, in pleasure or at the thought of more work they couldn’t tell, and dropped his head back. “The damn nobility can wait,” he insisted. “It’s a waste of time anyway.”

They clicked their tongue disapprovingly. That wouldn’t do.

Varric all but jerked when their hand left him suddenly cold and aching. Eyes wide with disbelief, he looked down at them. Oh, they’d treasure that sight for a long time to come. “Sweetheart, you can’t be serious--”

“I don’t hear a quill moving up there,” they cut him off, lips curling wickedly. “Better get to work, Master Tethras.”

For a long moment he stared at them, disbelieving. They saw the moment he began to appraise them, likely considering if it would be worth waiting out their stubborn streak. He could, and perhaps they would, break, but when the mood took hold they could be quite firm. He seemed to be weighing the odds. And they could see the moment he gave up, sighing heavily as he scooted his chair closer to his desk, casting his shadow over them.

They heard him pick up his quill, begin to write, and leaf through the documents above.

And they heard the moment he sucked in a breath as they took his cock in their hand once more, warm breath ghosting over the tip as they brought it to their lips. His hand stilled for a moment, and so did they. Then he cursed and began to write again, and they finally closed their mouth over him, jaw already burning at the stretch.

What Varric lacked in length was more than made up for in girth, and already they could feel their jaw settle into that familiar ache as they began to slowly work their way down him. The discomfort was worth every moment they could feel him twitch in their mouth, hear every curse and sucked in breath above them. Settling their hands against his calves they began to work in earnest, their head rocking back and forth. The familiar feeling of his hand in their hair had them pause just long enough to make sure they still heard the scratch of quill on parchment before resuming.

Above them, Varric cursed, his shaky signature being scrawled across shipment orders and premade letters alike. “Andraste’s fuckin’ ass, you’re an absolute menace. I’m--fuck, you feel so good.”

The praise only fueled their movements. Just when they thought Varric was beginning to catch his breath they paused, dragged their mouth all the way back to the head of his cock, and hollowed their cheeks to suck against the skin. Varric bucked, his knees slamming into the underside of the desk. It was only by a miracle that he didn’t snap the quill in his hand.

“Shit!” His frustrated grunt had them smiling against him and his hand tightened in their hair. Their scalp tingled from the force. Satisfied, they set to work again, eyes closing as they felt him begin to guide them. His hand tugged them back and forth, the pace increasing as he slowly began to fall apart. They could feel the way he throbbed in their mouth and paused just long enough to trace a vein on the underside of his cock.

“Maker,” he breathed above them, his hips bucking into their throat. By now his hand was faster and jerking them along his length in a way that made their eyes water. “Sweetheart, you feel like you were made for this. I’ve never felt anything--fuck--anything better in my damn life.”

They would answer if they could, but by now the grip on his shins was just as much to steady themself as much as him. He jerked them forward once more and they gagged around him, eyes nearly rolling into the back of their head. The noise set Varric groaning, and his cock throbbed once more in their mouth. They heard his brief warning then, right before he emptied into their throat, his grip on their hair holding them tight against him. Even as they coughed when he turned his grip loose they felt more than satisfied, with the taste of him lingering on their tongue.

Varric pushed his chair back the moment he caught his breath, quickly looking down to meet their gaze. They heard his hands shuffling on the desk before he finally produced what looked to be an embroidered handkerchief. Likely a gift from some Hightown aristocrat. They wondered how they would feel knowing just what it was being used for.

“You all right, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice softer than before. He reached to gently wipe their mouth. “Not too rough?”

They shook their head, still hazy from the pleasure. They thought their smile was answer enough, but Varric always insisted they use words. “Mm, perfect.”

Chuckling, Varric finished wiping their face. He then tugged them back to their feet to carefully guide them back into his lap. It was always this way. After they’d finished their business Varric would always insist on keeping them close by for a little while. They found it endearing, really; not many of their past partners had any sense of aftercare. When they’d told Varric, he’d scoffed.

‘Probably didn’t know how to actually satisfy a partner either, did they?’

They hadn’t disagreed.

“I think Bran owes me this time,” they finally said after a few moments of companionable silence. “I actually got you to do some work this time. Normally I’m distracting you.”

Varric laughed, the sound warm and vibrating through his bulky chest against them. They settled further into his lap.

“Just don’t tell him how you did it. I think he might die of embarrassment. But then again, without him around…” His conspiratorial look was met with a swat against his bared chest.

“Behave. You put the poor bastard through enough as it is,” they insisted. “If anything, I think he needs the vacation from you.”

Varric grinned and didn’t even have the audacity to look offended. With one arm still wrapped around them, he reached the free hand to straighten the letters he’d managed to sign into a neat pile, sighing at the sight of the rest. He’d made a dent, at least, but there was still a mountain to go. That, and the thought of them leaving threatened to kill what little optimism he had remaining. Of course that’s when a brilliant idea struck.

“Y’know, Mischief, I was thinking…”

“Dangerous thing, really.”

Varric smirked and shook his head fondly. “Always so rude to me, sweetness. Anyway, I was thinking. Instead of trotting out of here all rumpled like usual, how about...well. How about you stay the night? Make use of the bed this time instead of just my desk.”

They snorted. “You’re the one who always suggests the desk, Varric. I’m surprised my ass doesn’t have splinters at this point.”

“I mean, I could always check if you’re worried--”

“Don’t you have papers to sign?” they cut him off, their mockingly stern expression melting to laughter when he all but pouted at them. It wasn’t a bad idea, really. The thought had crossed their mind more than once. A night in Varric’s bed, of course, would likely have little to do with sleeping, but the idea was still...intimate. They’d always assumed the situation between them to be born of mutual attraction and necessity, but were they really opposed to something more?

Not in the least. But that didn’t mean they had to make it easy for him.

“Mmm, how about you make it through, say, half of this mountain on your desk,” they finally said, ignoring his sputtered indignation. “Do that, and I’m all yours for the whole night, serah.”

Varric paused, his eyes darting from the foreboding pile of correspondence back to the grinning mischief maker in his lap. It wasn’t even a contest, really. Varric had always been a weak man for a nice smile, and when they shot him one that promised nothing but trouble, he could never say no.

So instead he sighed, pressed a kiss to their forehead, and settled them properly in his lap as he picked up his quill.

“Only for you, Mischief. Only for you.”

[nightwingshero]

Judgement ⚖️

I had the amazing opportunity to commission the wonderful and talented @oliviawildesjawline to do Wren Blake as Nemesis personified in the role of Judge. And OMG!!!! IT’S AMAZING!!! You’ve completely blown me away with this piece! This is just...this is way better than I imagined it, and the colors?! You never fail to amaze me. Thank you so much for making this a reality!!! It’s absolutely perfect and I CAN’T STOP STARING AT IT!!!

Joseph always told John that his sin would come around in another form. But the cycle never broke, and Wren’s sin comes around in the form of one she thought as a friend. Wren faces her first Judgement as Herald of Eden’s Gate, and the scales aren’t tipping in Jess Black’s favor. .

It’s hard to breathe sometimes, I found. Wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular, but I could feel the weight of something in my chest. And whether it's my own sin curling its hand around my lungs or the guilty that refuse to answer for what they had done, one couldn’t say. It was just so heavy.

Facing your demons was something people preached about, insisted on, despite how utterly terrifying it could be. Confront those feelings, the dark and long-legged spiders that formed cobwebs in the back of your mind to whisper the poisonous thoughts you believed to be your subconscious. They’re traitorous things, always sticky and malicious, knocking the angel off your shoulder with utter disdain. Crooked smiles taunting as you fall down and down until you can’t even tell that you’ve fallen into the pit of Tartarus itself. But yes, face your demons, darling.

And I’m face to face with her now.

Die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Forgive and love or watch as your sin comes around in a new form. The words were meant for both me and the man I spend my nights with, both of us on the different sides of the same coin. It makes me contemplate, hearing a clock tick, but there is no clock here. No, not down here.

I tilt my head, careful not to allow my own wrath to consume my very being, igniting something that would burn out of control. My own test. And I realize the ticking is coming from my jaw, the words finding refuge there to avoid the sharp tip of my silver tongue. My words are like bullets, and I always preferred the personal touch of a blade over the gracelessness of a gun. Guns didn’t teach lessons.

I guess you could say they never got the point across.

My burgundy lips are twisting, a dark sneer that I had learned from the best of the best. And I feel as if it is his hand that’s guiding my actions, his tattooed digits tracing the coolness of my skin as if I was a marionette, but I am so much more. I am my own being, my own actions, my own existence.

I am my own Herald.

I wonder if that makes her heart beat faster, knowing that no other will interfere, she’s in my domain. Joseph wouldn’t even dare to put his hand upon the scales, refusing to taint the will of God because Judgement is sacred. A ritual that must be done right or else we pay the price. A soft hand or the steel of my knife, each calculation is accurate and precise, one wrong call and it unravels the bonds we weave for ourselves.

Rolling my neck, I can feel the tightening of an imaginary snake around my neck, it's comforting hissing and flicking tongue in my ear, and I swear I can feel just the slightest scratch of his beard. He’s not here, but I feel him.

You must always face your demons.

There’s hesitation within me when I swore that there would be none, a slight sliver of doubt piercing the insides of me, because I’m not sure if I can do this clearly. Fairly. A delicate line between revenge and vengeance and it has woven itself around my fingers, arms, entangling all the way down my spine. There should be metal there, but I fear that it’s only the thread keeping me standing straight.

I am alone.

Doing this on my own is an important feat. A necessary one that I take seriously. Perhaps a rite of passage, but I feel like I’m on the precipice of falling, or diving, and it steels my resolve. My dark heels click against the concrete floor, echoing against the harsh walls that match the harsh glow of light. I remembered my first time in this room, my shirt ripping apart as if it were nothing, fear pumping into my veins with just enough adrenaline. A toxic cocktail of endorphins, but I can practically taste the bitterness of her anger as she glares from her chair.

It’s exciting, almost. Oh god, the absolute thrill and I return her glare, because I am alone. Nobody is coming to save her, and I am the only way out for her. It doesn’t sway her actions, her feelings, for she is still so encompassed with loathing. She can’t see what is in front of her. What her pride has done to those around her, and I’m suddenly ready to pass my Judgement by just the slight reminder of her horrid actions. I still feel the warm blood on my hands and the tears that flowed that night. I want her blood in return, eye for an eye.

I swallow and shove what I can to the side, keeping what remanence of the control I had left. I rub my hands against the tight black pants, a wishful thought of them helping to hold me in place as I take another step forward. Her eyes follow, and I’m sure she means to be threatening with the look in her eyes, but I feel like laughing at her. The poor thing is tied and gagged, what threat was she? I fight the urge to rip the tape from her mouth just for the satisfaction of causing some sort of pain.

Reaching her, I rest my knee on her chair next to her leg and she jerks away. I have to fight the laugh because she’s ridiculous. Always acting like a child, always so damn selfish. I click my tongue, the organ finally rising to the occasion because I am done being silent. The words are screaming, clawing at the insides and I’m shocked that I have yet to spit blood upon her face out of spite.

I grab her face instead, and god, the relief I feel for it. The black nails pressing against her flesh, indents around my fingers. I feel the sweat, and I’m not shocked. This room was always a bit hot, and I was ready to remove the black button up to cool the hot skin underneath, but I thought better of it. It was almost a relief to feel the sponge against my chest so long ago, John showing me he was willing to give, but I won’t give her the blessing of reprieve. I am not merciful; I am not here to love her.

“I heard you refuse to Confess.”

My words, finally freed, are low and oh so soft. Had it been anyone else, my voice would have been a caress, comforting enough for them to come closer. But she knows better, and I can tell that from the way she’s looking at me, that I am nothing but a demon to her. A traitor who hid her horns so well that it was her sins that had to reveal them. And that’s fine. I’ll be whatever she wanted me to be.

I’ll be what I had to be.

A demon for her, a righteous Judge for them.

A whore of Babylon or The Baptist’s wife.

Nemesis.

So many crowns, thrones even, and no matter how heavy, I stood tall with my head held high as they all fell to my feet with praise or with blood in their mouths. I would protect my flock from the poison of those who slither in the shadows, spouting lies upon lies and destroying whatever was in their path. I almost pitied them.

Almost.

“You know that my Judgement comes after the Confession, don’t you dear?”

I’m taunting her and her eyes burn brighter. It’s answered with my nails piercing through her skin, blood pooling just a bit, and I hear her grunt of pain. She’s underestimating my rage, her betrayal. Her actions have spoken more than her lips ever could, so it’s fine. But the urge to make her feel something, to show just how scared she should be, is getting the better of me. Perhaps my wrath wasn’t contained, and I find it hard to feel regret for it. But I just smile, baring my teeth.

The scales have tipped, even if they were just a bit crooked to begin with.

Lowering myself, my lips find her ear. If I listen closely, perhaps I could hear the ghost of her beating heart pumping in her empty void of a chest. A falsity to make her seem more human than puppet, but we both know that it's wood underneath this skin. She was nothing but a mere tool at his disposal, and I had every intention of breaking it.

“That’s alright. Your silence is enough for me to pass Judgement, and oh dear, the sins you’ve committed…you should start praying to your God for forgiveness, honey. You won’t find any here.”