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gutouhua · 1 year

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pairing. zhongli x f. reader

wc. 2.7k+

rating. explicit

tags. sort of canonverse, zhongli has ruts & dragon fangs, reader hails from mondstat, mentions of mates/mating, mentions of eating animal meat, zhongli is a perv for reader, zhongli calls reader ‘pet,’ age gap (reader is early-mid 20s, zhongli is biologically in early 30s), mentions of zhongli’s previous sexual relationships (dubcon), power dynamics, cervixfucking, overstimulation (sort of), zhongli wants to breed reader, pussydrunk zhongli, unprotected sex (pull out method)

a/n. MDNI! see end for notes

Zhongli had imagined it over a million times—taking you across the table and fucking your pussy. He knew you’d smell good down there, had scented it like a pervert in the days before your period—familiar lily mixed with strong musk and a tinge of metal. It made his fangs itch from the need to sink into your soft thighs and tongue at your slick folds.

Zhongli rutted in early spring, when trees blossomed and bore fat fruit—juicy peaches hanging heavy on thin branches. Sometimes he’d walk by them and look at them with an almost forlorn gaze. A deep ache in his body.

He wished that there was someone who would satiate his needs like seeds did to trees or bees with flowers. They mated with each other, year after year in a frenzy—a haze of powdery yellow spilling on every surface of Liyue Harbor. Zhongli didn’t have allergies, but even if he did, he would still love and envy the pollen.

It had been a long time since Zhongli had someone like that to spend his seasons with. A mate.

He’d drink copious amounts of lily bulb tea each spring to keep himself from fucking the first person who said yes to him, and would take himself into his hands with a furious passion every morning and night—even during work breaks—to relieve himself.

And it worked. He successfully passed multiple centuries of ruts like so, although it wasn’t always easy. As Morax, he was volatile—could pass for the Pyro Archon herself, Murata, but he tempered himself over the years, learning to be the composed man he was now.

But then you appeared, and the fire flared. Hutao’s newest intern—the first in nearly a decade, fresh. A slight little creature (although most people were small compared to Zhongli), and eager to learn about funeral services from Liyue’s very best. It was the first time you’d been to Liyue, so far from your home in Mondstat, and everything and everyone interested you.

I wonder if there’s a way to breed two creatures together to create an actual cocogoat. It’d be cool—Qiqi would be able to drink actual cocogoat milk, not that cheap substitute that Baizhu makes for her, and we’d be able to eat the meat. It’d taste good, right?

Zhongli chuckled, eyes soft on you. That would be a sight to behold. He didn’t mention that he’d been alive when cocogoats still roamed the Bishui Plains—a story for another time.

And then came the questions about himself.

Why are you so red, Zhongli-xiangsheng?

His rut came early this year for some reason, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. The lily bulb tea would suffice until he had a moment for himself.

But you had to make it difficult. So difficult for him.

Nothing, he murmured.

You grinned, stepping closer on tiptoes so your eyes leveled his chest. Soft rise and fall—imperceptible unless face to face like you were.

It doesn’t seem like nothing to me, Xiangsheng.

Zhongli fought the urge to inhale your soft scent. Sweet, powdery like lilies and dusk and something tender he wanted to bite—

—And he tasted blood in his mouth to stop his fangs from descending onto your exposed neck, nearly shook from the force it took to not bend you over his desk.

It would leave a mess. And Hutao would add it to his tab.

Even now you tempted him with coy glances, a bare shoulder, and sometimes a lingering touch in the space between his cuff and gloves—sharp like the sting of the formidable Raiden’s electro bolts.

“Do you want to know what I learned today, Xiansheng?” You had taken to calling him that instead of his mortal name one day. Zhongli wasn’t quite sure why, but he liked how it sounded on your lips.

He smoothed an invisible wrinkle from his suit and shuffled the papers on his desk while shifting to hide the stiffness in his pants. “Pray, do tell.”

You leaned forward, settling your weight on the heavy oak table. “I heard you’re rutting right now.”

Zhongli nearly choked on his tea. “What?”

“Rut, heat, season—Hutao told me.” You shrugged as if the topic was something mundane. “She said you rut every spring, but that it’s unusually strong this year for some reason. Something about the aura around you, I think. Why’s that?”

Because of you.

“Not sure,” Zhongli said.

“She also told me about that tea you drink.”

He nearly dropped his cup of tea. Damn the woman. Spilling all my secrets. And there wasn’t a single thing he could do—he was on her payroll.

“What about it?” he asked, trying for confidence.

“Lily bulb tea,” you continued, scrutinizing his cup, “apparently it helps calm you down and dampens the urge to fuck.”

Zhongli’s dick hardened.

“So does it?”

“What?”

“The tea. Does it help with your urges?” You jerked your head at the drink, curious.

Not when you’re around.

He wasn’t sure what to say, but finally decided on: “Not really.”

You cocked your head to the side and bit your lips, Zhongli’s eyes following the pink tongue that peeked through. He wanted to bite them too. They’d be soft and break easily with a little bit of teeth—like almond tofu.

“Oh. Then what’re you going to do about it?”

“The usual.” Tea, masturbating, some rough fucking. Archons knew he’d need it tonight—some sort of distraction from you. He’d have to visit Madame Fang for an escort. She was used to his proclivities—would have someone able to take him.

“The usual? And what would that be?” Zhongli could almost picture you with a pen and paper in hand, a student eager for information.

He groaned internally. Now he was imagining you in a short skirt, stockings, maybe thigh highs—the fat of your thighs spilling from the top of the elastic. The image nearly had him spilling in his pants.

“I don’t think you’d want to know the particulars,” he said, his voice a soft rasp. He shifted again. “It might scare an innocent little girl like you.”

“Innocent?” You huffed. “Little? I’m a grown adult xiangsheng! I’m over the legal age—and actually much more than that. You can hardly call me little or innocent.”

“But you are,” he said indulgently, as one would towards a spoiled pet. “I am immortal, have fought and survived the Archon War. Tell me, pet, can you say the same?”

He was playing with you. Of course the two of you knew you couldn’t compare to him.

“But at the very least, you cannot consider me innocent. I’ve experienced enough things,” you muttered, annoyed.

Zhongli arched an eyebrow.

Before you knew it, he grabbed your wrist, pushing you onto the desk in one fluid motion—papers scattering to the floor like spring pollen. Zhongli pinned your hands over your head to keep you in place, and knocked your legs apart to slot his large frame between you.

“W-What’re you doing, Zhongli?”

He smiled. And there it was: his name always slipped out when you got serious.

Xiansheng.

What?

Xiansheng. He moved closer, spreading your legs further apart as he drew closer to you. You could feel your stomach pressing tightly against the cotton of your suit with each breath, your chest straining against buttons. Don’t be so impolite when your boss is trying to school you.

Xiansheng.

Good girl, he rumbled. You were so curious about the specifics of my rut—what I do to satiate my needs. Shall I show you? They say firsthand experience is the best way to learn.

His voice was heavy, hot against your ear, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when he darted a tongue out to lick the delicate shell of your ear.

So sensitive. I wonder if it’s the same in other places. Shall we find out?

Hutao had ordered him to be careful with you—a family friend. Your family owned the most successful funeral parlor in Mondstat, and they sent you to Hutao to learn how she conducted her business in Liyue. Zhongli had agreed. He could keep his hands to himself.

But then you showed up on the steps of Wansheng funeral parlor, and he knew he was fucked.

Do you want it, he whispered, I need to rut, but I always ask for permission.

Jealousy reared its ugly head. He’d done it with others—for decades, maybe even centuries, and it made sense, you couldn’t expect celibacy from him and yet…the thought of other people touching him made you want to rake your hands down his back, gouge, and suck every inch of his skin so others would know he was taken.

That he was yours.

What will it be, pet?

You nodded, eyeing the bulge in his pants. He was big. It was obvious, and it’d probably hurt. A tight fit.

Zhongli smiled—sharp teeth, predatory. I need words.

Yes.

No sooner did you give your permission did he slip your blazer off your shoulders and loosen just enough buttons to push your blouse up and over your head. You wore cotton—a simple white bra, and he wondered if you wore a matching set today.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out: you were already unzipping your pants, sliding stiff fabric down your legs, uncaring if it wrinkled. You’d have to remember to take it to the cleaners.

But later—now, you canted your hips forward, not caring about anything but the man in front of you.

So needy, he murmured, and wet.

His scent intoxicated you, his weight a delicious pressure against your skin.

Zhongli rocked against your clothed pussy, pleased to find you wet. You soaked through the cotton fabric, leaving an imprint in the shape of your pussy on your panties.

Fuck me, xiangsheng, please—I need it.

The scent of your arousal grew stronger with each tap against the wet spot. Heady, mind-numbing, as if a drug was coursing through his bloodstream. The amber of his hands grew darker, a deep, gorgeous fossilized hue, and his pupils thinned—they slitted into a sharp, almost feline countenance, predator to prey.

You would have me? he asked again, stars pulsing in his eyes. In his earlier days, before he was an archon, he had taken people without knowing what it really meant. The shame and guilt of it had made the act feel dirty for a long time—he went nearly fifty years without a single partner to help him through his ruts.

He would not make the same mistake with you.

Just fuck me.

He groaned, pulled your panties to the side—white cotton—and pushed himself into you, the entire length. It was tight and it burned as you struggled, walls stretching to accommodate his dick.

Feels so good, he grunted, you’re so tight, fuck. He lost himself in your tight heat, centuries of manners and poise melting before you.

He moved slowly at first, dragging his length out so that nothing but the tip remained inside before thrusting back in.

You shifted backward, trying to adjust to him. Soft pants, shallow—eyes squeezed shut to focus on each heavy stroke in and out of your cunt. When you started moving against him, seeking friction for yourself, Zhongli sped up. Kept most of his cock inside you with each stroke, prodding around for your sweet spot.

When he finally found it, earning a cry and squeeze around his cock that nearly made him cum, he smiled. Right there, pet?

You gasped, struggled to answer: Yeah, yeah-right there—

He continued to thrust, imprinting your insides with the shape of his dick, hitting that sensitive spot with almost boyish eagerness, but it still wasn’t enough to—

—You reached down to where his dick is splitting you apart and try to rub your clit, the hard nub aching for attention, but Zhongli pushed your hand away.

Allow me.

You almost whine—denial twisting your stomach into a tight knot, leaving your clit wanting, but he didn’t make you wait long. Deft fingers rubbed circles on your clit, grinding, until it swelled enough for him to pinch, hard.

Zhongli, please—

What did I say pet, he hummed and bit your earlobe in admonishment.

Xian-Xiansheng—

You were begging now, pleading—tears dripping from your face like fresh paint on canvas.

Please, xiansheng, please, I need it.

What do you need? He thrust forward, the head almost kissing your cervix.

Need…

Need what? Use your words, pretty pet. Another hard thrust, this time he touched your cervix. Half pain, half pleasure. Lines slowly starting to blur—was it because of his dick or your tears? You couldn’t tell.

You shook your head and fisted your hands in the collar of his suit, wrinkling the fine material as you dragged his face towards you to claim a kiss. Harsh and unyielding, a faint taste of iron between each ragged breath. Now you’d have to take two suits to the cleaners.

Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you’d forgotten how you even got into this situation in the first place. Something about lily bulb tea, alone time…and ruts…heats. Heat—were you the one in heat or was it him?

But it didn’t matter, all you knew was that:

Need to cum.

Zhongli’s pretty lips curled. And so you shall.

With one hand on your hips, he slammed his hips against yours in a punishing rhythm while his other hand battered your clit, thick fingers flicking the hard nub repeatedly until you felt nearly numb from the overstimulation. He felt you tense beneath him, hips rolling incessantly, your cunt gripping him so tightly he knew he was close.

Cum for me, he demanded, almost growling, give it to me.

And you obeyed—gave yourself over to the pleasure, moaning from the waves of pleasure washing over you.

Zhongli groaned as you contracted around him, each tight draw from your pussy taking him closer to his own release. Hips stuttering, he felt his fangs slip through, throbbing from the desire to taste you, bite you, mark you—

—Breed you.

It was messy, each time he pulled back and saw the amount of slick that coated his cock, his mind grew fuzzier, almost stupid. Zhongli couldn’t remember the last time he felt pussydrunk—

You bit the side of his neck as another orgasm ripped out of you, and this time Zhongli let himself go with a harsh growl, pulling out right as he cummed, thick ropes of sticky cum defiling your stomach. It was dizzyingly maddening: his cum moving with each shaky exhale, dripping onto your pussy, and Zhongli thought it was such a waste that it wasn’t inside you, filling you up. Some of it covered your clit—a glistening pearl. He fought every fiber of his being to not bend down and lick it. He didn’t like sweet things, but you were an exception.

“Did you learn a lot?” he finally asked after your breath had steadied a bit.

You were still coming down from your high, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “What?”

“I was teaching you,” he chuckled, voice husky. “Were you a good student? Paying attention?”

You thought about it for a moment. Looked at his disheveled appearance, his golden eyes, the wrinkles in his suit, and found it lacking.

“Not enough.”

“I am in agreement.”

Hutao narrowed her eyes. “You fucked him.”

“And what if I did? It’s not like you’ll fire me,” you replied lightly.

Hutao groaned. “I knew you wanted to fuck him, but I didn’t think you wanted to do it that badly. It’s not exactly good for my business, and you know he’ll stick to you for the rest of his season, right? That’s how it works for him. He doesn’t share.”

“Well good. Because I don’t either.” You wouldn’t have chosen him anyway if he liked to share. “But wait—what do you mean ‘not exactly good for your business?’”

The Wangsheng Director grinned at you. “Look at him: one of the most eligible bachelors in Liyue. Didn’t you notice that we have a large number of young clients? They come to Wangsheng because of him. I don’t care who Zhongli fucks as long as they give me their money—it keeps my beloved Wangsheng as the most profitable funeral parlor in Liyue.”

“Of course you would say that.” You laughed and thought about all the times your parents praised Hutao. “No wonder my parents sent me here to learn from you.”

Hutao winked. “Of course! Making money is the second best thing I’m good at.”

“What’s the first?”

“Death.”

uhhh i wrote this one about six-ish months ago too...been busy with zine work but hopefully when I'm done I can write more reader insert smut :') (also sorta tried a new style of dialogue lmao back when I wrote this)

Murata, also known as the God of War and the Lady of Fire, was a Pyro Archon and a member of The Seven who presided over Natlan.

先生 - xiānsheng. Has two main definitions: the first is teacher, the second is mister (Mr); gentleman; sir. Both suit Zhongli very well in this fic ;)

Dried lily bulb【百合】 is usually recommended in TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) clinics to treat coughs, dry throats and relieve heat. (But IRL, this doesn’t actually help with the horny feels LOL.)

Zhongli as Morax has darker brown/amber skin tone on arms, so I chose to depict this in the fic as skin darkening when aroused. I also put a photo of something similar on an actual body.

#Zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #zhongli fanfic #zhongli gi #genshin smut #Genshin x reader #zhongli genshin impact #hua!writes #zhongli x female reader #zhongli x f reader

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reality-detective · 2 months

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Pay attention to Turkey. 🇹🇷

Pay attention to Iraq. 🇮🇶

Pay attention to Russia. 🇷🇺

Pay attention to Saudi Arabia. 🇸🇦

Pay Attention to Europe. 🇪🇺

Why?

Because these are the countries that are doing the dirty work by subduing Israel. 🇮🇱

Not Donald Trump!

D. Trump did his job when he offered Benjamin Netanyahu a peace deal. It was declined. You have to understand Iraq is going to be the power house next to America in the Middle East. Not Israel.

How?

Because Israel does not control the trade routes required in order to have the contracts needed to have close diplomatic ties with other countries that share their views of conquests who will support them. That is why Benjamin Netanyahu came crying to the US Congress for more money.

Everyone reading this needs to look up the Iraqi Development Road Project. This is the momentum needed in order to pull off what B. Netanyahu is attempting to do in Gaza. But he can't. Because Saudi Arabia is in the process of recognizing them as a state.

Guess who is not coming out against this?

Donald Trump. You have not seen anything on D. Trump's social media accounts denouncing this maneuver by Saudi Arabia who will ultimately defeat Israel.

Stop looking for D. Trump to verbally assault Israel.

Stop looking for D. Trump to say anything negative about Benjamin Netanyahu.

Stop looking for D. Trump to come out and denounce war against terrorism.

None of this is neccessary. When there is a sting op occurring the honey pot is placed to attract the bees away from the nest that is being removed. Who could be the honey pot(the distraction) Donald Trump?

You do not have to swat a single bee. While they are distracted with the honey you can peacefully remove the hive and get rid of all of them without using any spray. Especially if the queen is no longer there.

The Monarch gone.

The Rothschilds trapped.

The Deep State in panic.

The media is useless.

The puppet masters removed.

The Normies are clueless.

But you who are paying attention are "The New Republic".

You all need to start acting that way. You can not run around reacting to everything like the general public is doing. What use will you be once disclosure gets here and they run to you and you are just as confused as they are?

Please, nothing is happening haphazardly in any regard. You are watching a controlled demolition of the old guard in slow motion. That way as it is happening you can learn about all the agendas that were created to enslave you and be prepared to share that with others who are oblivious to everything you are reading here.

The WTO announcement already that the world is waiting on Iraq. Not Israel. They are a non factor. Which is why they are being ignored and have no major trade deals on the level that Iraq has. No competition. Why do you think China removed Israel off of their largest map platform 24 hrs after the Belfour Declaration expired late October 31st last year?

But that was just a coincidence right?

F♤ck outta here with that sh¡t. 🤔

#pay attention #educate yourselves #educate yourself #knowledge is power #reeducate yourself #reeducate yourselves #think about it #think for yourselves #think for yourself #do your homework #do your own research #do some research #ask yourself questions #question everything #be calm #stop freaking out #relax #the plan #be patient

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misty-caligula · 1 year

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We’re all sad to see Nat go, but I think it’s important to recognise, she’s gone because of decisions that she made, over and over.

S1E10 she made the choice to shoot herself. It wasn’t a GREAT choice, but it was one that she made, which Lottie negated against her will. In eerily similar fashion as Misty with the cocaine.

S2E1 Lottie talked to her about her bees, about how when a new queen was born she’d sting the others to death for the good of the hive.

For most of the rest of the season, Nat began taking the lessons of the cult to heart, despite her initial reservations. Some people wondered how sincere she was, but I genuinely think that she began to really work on herself, really believe in Lottie’s wisdom.

Then the poison came out. Immediately, Nat’s demeanour changed. I was wondering what that was about when Lott was trying to convince them in s2e8. She told Nat that she was in so much pain, and Nat didn’t even fight back at all. Just gave her this look...

I think that right here, at this moment, she recognised Lott for what she was. A danger to them all. She decided that she wasn’t capable of changing, of being helped. Just like she’d said to Misty, “We’re ALL like this, aren’t we?” I think that at this moment, Nat decided that once again, Lott wasn’t fit to be queen, that she’d have to take charge, like she did before, and that she should take the example of the bees.

I think she’s also ... angry. Angry that Lott can’t recognise the SOURCE of that pain. She recognises the reality, that it exists, but she’s blind to how responsible she is for it. Consider:

As far as Natalie knows (because of what Misty said in the cabin) Lottie told them that eating Javi was what IT wanted them to do. And then immediately made her in charge of the team, dropping that burden of responsibility and guilt directly on her shoulders. She’s smiling in the moment, when everyone’s bowing. See how much she’s smiling when the reality of that weight sets in, when the unbearable guilt of being in charge crushes down on her. When that PURPOSE is lifted from her shoulders and all she has left is the pain of what she’s done, what she’s made others do in her name. And now, Lott has the AUDACITY to point at Nat’s pain in public, without ascribing blame, as though it were simply ... a natural state of being.

In the beginning of S2E9 she says that Lott shouldn’t go back to the psych ward, but I believe that she never meant any kind of help should be offered. I believe that she had already decided to kill her. I think that she’d hoped that Lott would draw the Queen of Hearts, and it would’ve made it easy. She’d have submitted, I’m sure. Because when she drew the Ace, she looked SO crestfallen I’d actually assumed at first she got the Queen. Lottie wanted that queen so badly, wanted so much to help her friends. And then Nat would’ve made it quick, with the secret real blade she’d brought with her.

But it wasn’t to be. So Shauna HAS to be the centre of attention, as always, and everyone’s playing along, not realising that Lott’s brought her own real knife to the party. And when they’re chasing her, if Lott catches up she’s GOING to kill her, for reals. I don’t know what kind of 4 dimensional chess they think they’re playing, but they’ve RADICALLY underestimated the danger level here, and it’s only when Callie steps in that she calms it down a little (with a bullet wound of all things).

But still, Nat goes in for the kill.

And it’s not just because she thinks she’d be a better queen, it’s not JUST that she’s afraid. She’s ANGRY. Because, despite herself, despite all of her bluster and her cynicism, her worldliness, and all of it, SHE was the one who bought in to the cult. Shauna and Tai and Van and Misty are here, they’re playing around, they’re drinking and partying and kind of just taking a vacation. They’ll do the therapy for a bit of fun, but they’re not taking it very seriously.

Nat, in a very short time, has found a BELIEF. She’s gone from 2 seconds away from a bullet to actually having a meaning, a reason to get up in the morning. Sober. And nobody except Lott is taking that seriously. Is recognising that she’s making real growth here, that she’s really trying. They’re begging her to drink with them - HER, NATALIE, THE FUCKING ALCOHOLIC, and they’re peer pressuring her to drink.... and she’s saying no.

Because when Lisa said “Do you want to die?” and she said “Not today” she pushed away her drink. Because that’s what alcohol IS to her. It’s not a fun party, it’s not a joyful thing. It’s a curse, a burden, a poison that hurts less than the one she’s trying to drown out. And now she’s found a way to live without it.

And it’s all a lie.

These two women are doing VERY different things. Shauna’s preparing for a pantomime. Nat’s preparing for a murder. Shauna’s in the light, and she’s casting shadow with her dark thoughts. Nat’s bathed in darkness and the only light is the bright fire of her rage.

So she goes to Lisa, and she BEGS her to leave. I feel like there’s a bit of a comparison here with Shauna telling Javi to run from the doomcoming, like go, you’re not safe here. She’s trying so hard to make Lisa understand that she’s the real deal, that SHE got through to Nat, that she can be better than the cult. (And there’s a layer here too, because Lisa is so much just like teen!Nat, and she’s trying so hard to save herself from the cycle). And Lisa just can’t hear it. Just like teen!Nat couldn’t in her shoes. It’s all hopeless.

It’s meant to be a pantomime, but Nat says “Something’s HAPPENING tonight, and I NEED you to leave, while you still can.” What’s happening tonight? She’s going to kill Lisa’s god, and she’s NEVER going to forgive her.

She stops before she leaves and says “Thank you for trying to teach me about forgiveness. It’s a nice idea.“

But it’s not an idea she can get behind. She’s too far gone for that. She, like Coach, can’t let it go. She’s going to burn the motherfucker down. And in the lull that Callie leaves, she does EXACTLY that, she takes the lunge, and it would’ve worked ... if only Lisa had taken her advice.

And suddenly she’s her dad. Attacking Lisa’s mother figure, without context why. For raising her wrong. And Lisa comes to her defence. And Nat can’t explain. And it’s all too fast and too much and Misty doesn’t understand, doesn’t know her well enough, doesn’t have enough faith that Nat has the situation under control. And all she has is a split second to choose, and so she does.

Because Lisa, like Javi, is just trying to help. Overwhelmed by a situation too big, too dangerous. Stepped onto what looks like solid ground, unaware of the danger til it’s too late. But this time, Nat’s not going to let Misty or anybody talk her into letting someone else take her place, not again. She closes the cycle.

I can’t stand seeing people saying she died for nothing, she died for EVERYTHING she believed in. She didn’t die just as she was working on herself, she died BECAUSE she gave up on that work, she was in that situation because she chose violence, and then she chose to give it up in the last moment. She died because she couldn’t forgive. Herself. Misty. Lottie. Any of the other ‘jackets who stood by and let her live. Let her kill. She died because she decided that Lisa was more important than her, and that maybe just maybe she could do it better than she had.

But here’s the thing. Coach says “You’re not like the rest of these girls.” And she replies...

Cycles, cycles... will Lisa be able to forgive herself for surviving Nat? Only time will tell, but we have to have faith in her, like Nat did.

Tai in the car, with Shauna says “I have Simone and Sammy, you have Jeff and Callie. Who does Natalie have?” Nat had Lisa. And now, Tai has Van. Shauna still has Jeff and Callie. Lottie’s hopefully got help. Misty has Walter (thoughts for another day). And Lisa?... Who does Lisa have?...

Watch this space.

#yellowjackets #spoilers #pain and pain and pain again

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thecreaturecodex · 4 days

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Melixie

Image © Paizo Publishing, presumably, accessed here

[The melixie is in the Bestiary 3, but doesn't have art in that source, being one of three monsters in a two-page spread. @abominationimperatrix found this art for me on a Ukranian Pathfinder blog, and it's definitely PF house style, which makes me wonder if it was posted by the artist somewhere. Anyway, melixies are cute and fun, and I would love to use them in a low level game sometime]

Melixie CR ½ CN Fey This tiny humanoid has the features of a bee—antennae, solid colored eyes without pupils, and chitin over its arms and legs. They buzz about on two pairs of translucent wings.

Melixies are fey creatures with the features of pollinating insects. Bees are the most common, but melixies resembling butterflies, moths, hoverflies and even beetles or thrips are not unheard of. They have an insatiable sweet tooth, and their diet is predominately sugar based. If a melixie can resist consuming their raw ingredients, they can use them to make tiny candies, baked goods and other deserts. Melixie confectionary is famous for both its variety and quality, and some discerning gourmets keep a melixie chef on hand for making treats that both taste great and are less filling.

Melixies believe in working hard, playing hard, and resting hard. They are willing to do even repetitive labor that other fey scoff at, as long as they are properly provisioned with sweets. Consuming a large portion (for their tiny bodies) grants them a burst of energy, allowing them to move exceptionally fast for a brief period before needing to rest and recover. Melixies often use this ability if they are in combat, letting them make hit and run attacks with their acid splashes and stingers (all melixies have a short retractable sting, regardless of the specific insect they resemble). Melixies get along well with arthropods of all kinds. Many melixies raise both regular bees for their honey and giant bees as guard dogs.

Melixie CR ½ XP 200 CN Tiny fey Init +4; Senses low-light vision, Perception +5

Defense AC 16, touch 16, flat-footed 12 (+2 size, +4 Dex) hp 11 (2d6+4) Fort +2, Ref +7, Will +3 DR 2/cold iron

Offense Speed 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (good) Melee sting +7 (1d6-1) Space 2 ½ ft.; Reach 0 ft. Spell-like Abilities CL 2nd, concentration +5 Constant—speak with arthropods At will—acid spray, dancing lights, ghost sound (DC 14) 1/day—ant haul

Statistics Str 9, Dex 19, Con 15, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 16 Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 12 Feats Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +9 (-3 to jumping), Craft (confectionary) +7, Diplomacy +8, Escape Artist +9, Fly +17, Perception +5, Profession (beekeeping) +5, Stealth +17; Racial Modifiers +4 Craft (confectionary) Languages Common, Sylvan, speak with arthropods SQ sugar rush

Ecology Environment warm and temperate land Organization solitary, pair or hive (3-24) Treasure standard

Special Abilities Speak with Arthropods (Sp) This functions as speak with animals, only it can be used to communicate with vermin that are arthropods, such as spiders, insects, centipedes or crustaceans. This is the equivalent of a 1st level spell. Sugar Rush (Su) As a move action, a melixie can consume a large quantity of sugar, honey or other sweet substance (at least ½ a pound). When it does so, it can take an additional move action for the next 1d4+1 rounds. When this time elapses, the melixie is fatigued for 1 minute. A melixie cannot use its sugar rush ability when fatigued or exhausted.

#melixie #fey #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder 2e #furry #bug people

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serasfanfiction · 4 months

Text

"Lucy!"

Lucifer braced himself. Even with the preparation, Beelzebub hit him like a ton of bricks. He wrapped his arms around her neck, his wings coming out as she lifted them both off the ground and spun them around.

"You're here," she exclaimed, squeezing him tight enough that he could feel his ribs protesting. "You have missed so many parties! I thought we'd never see you again."

Lucifer giggled as her fur tickled his neck as she nuzzled his cheek. "Hiya, Bee." He instinctively tried to protect his neck from the cold, wet feeling of her nose as she snuffled his hair. "I, uh, had some things to work through."

Beelzebub bared her teeth, growling low in her chest. "I still can't believe she left! What a bitch!"

Lucifer wilted, Lilith's leaving a raw enough wound that all mentions of it making him want curl up and cry.

His sister paused, gauging his response. She brought them down to the ground, her hold turning into something more gentle. "I'm sorry, Lucy." She gave him a jostle. "You totally deserved better."

Lucifer didn't believe that for a moment, but he didn't want to spoil the mood anymore than he already had. Over his head, his siblings shared a glance. He hated they looked so worried, even as it soothed something along the jagged edges of his self-loathing.

"It's fine." It wasn't, but he was thoroughly subscribing to the delusion that if he said it enough times, it might make it true.

"You can talk to us if you need to." Beelzebub gave him another squeeze, almost as tight as the previous one. "You may be our big brother, but we're still your siblings."

Lucifer blinked, his eyes stinging. He looked up over the mass of her colorful hair to see Asmodeus watching them. It went without saying that the offer was extended from him as well. Lucifer couldn't bring himself to nod. The promise would feel disingenuous, as he was unsure if he was in a place to ever take them up on them offer. Sadness flickered across Asmodeus's face, knowing him too well.

Beelzebub seemed to understand as well. She pulled away, giving his shoulders one last squeeze before she let him go. She turned her sights on the sinner in the room, floating over to get a better view of him. By the time Lucifer was sure he'd blinked away any incriminating evidence of his emotional slip and was certain it was safe to turn around, Beelzebub had already reached her target.

"And who is this cute dear?" It was difficult to determine if she was using the endearment or the animal species name. With her, it could be either. She made a circuit around Alastor, coming up and over his head to hover at eye level with him. "Is this the guy you were talking about?"

Lucifer sputtered, dismayed. "Wait, what?" He spun around on Asmodeus, pointing at him. "When did you even talk about this? I heard that phone call!" It had done right in front of him! How did he miss that?

Fizzarolli held up his phone to show a series of text messages he couldn't read from this distance but could guess at their content. Judging from the smirk on his lover's face, it wasn't hard who had told him to do it.

Traitor! The whole lot of them!

Alastor turned on the charm, although unlike with Asmodeus and Fizz, it appeared to be at least somewhat genuine in this case. "Please, call me Alastor. It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." If he was irritated with her fluttering around him, he didn't let it show. "From what I've heard, the famous Queen Bee's parties sound like all the rage!"

Beelzebub placed a finger to her chin, squinting her eyes as if racking her brain. "Alastor?" She said the name slowly, considering. She set herself down on the ground, studying him intently. Lucifer noted she had shrunk down in size to match the sinner's height. "The radio host?"

The redhead's demeanor became more amicable, his ego stroked, confirming jovially, "Why yes! It's an honor to hear someone such as yourself has heard of my show." He shot Lucifer a smug look, which in turn earned him a renewed glare.

The Sin of Gluttony waved her fingers at him. "I'm always looking for new music to play during parties." She danced to an imaginary beat, swaying her hips and doing a little twirl. She pointed in his general direction as she spun back around. "You've got good taste in music, if a little out of date."

Alastor wasn't offended by her critique, likely having heard it before. Perhaps emboldened by her positive engagement with him, he offered one of his own, "Perhaps, but music today sounds so..." He paused, searching for the right word. After a moments debate, he settle reluctantly on, "Repetitive."

From out of nowhere, a short clip of music played, emanating from Alastor's direction. The clip was followed by another clip, from a different song, and then a third one. They were all obviously different songs, but they did all sound remarkable the same.

"Wait." Beelzebub's eyes had widened. Alastor paused his flipping through channels on a random song. A male singer with the kind of voice that could make anyone swoon was singing about how he took his whiskey and coffee and how the subject of the song was 'too sweet' for him. She gave Alastor another circle around. "You can generate music yourself?" She clasped her hands together in delight.

The redhead cut off the music, amused by her response. He clarified, "I can act like a radio, my dear. I sadly can't produce music out of nowhere."

Beelzebub threw her older brother a grin over her shoulder. "Lucy, you don't mind if I steal your partner later, do you?"

Lucifer, who had been watching all of this with stiffly crossed arms and an ever darkening glare, scoffed. He just knew this was going to become an issue and already could see the headlines come the next morning. "He's not my anything, Bee. Really."

To Alastor's discernment, Beelzebub sniffed the air far too close to the sinner for her to be doing anything other than catching his scent. Vindictively, Lucifer couldn't help but smirk and think to himself that, yeah, it's not as much fun when someone does it to him, was it? Little taste of his own medicine.

Then she asked, "Then why is his scent all over you?"

Lucifer's hands flew to his hair, belatedly realizing how telling the movement was. He didn't care. What the hell? He'd not only cleaned up last night with magic, he'd even gone for a shower out of the desperate need to swath himself in the comforting smells of his favorite shampoo and body wash. Nothing of Alastor should have remained.

Alastor had that pleased as punch grin on his insufferable, punchable face.

Lucifer hissed like the snake everyone called him, angerly pointing a finger at the asshole. "Take him! I don't want him!"

"Now now, your Majesty, what would Charlie do without her business partner?" Alastor's tone was all sunshine and roses, as if anyone would believe that for an instant.

Behind him, Lucifer heard Fizzarolli whispering to Ozzie, almost (but not quite) too soft him to hear, "Stealing his daughter's business partner? That's ballsy."

Lucifer must have looked one wrong move away from setting the whole building on fire because Beelzebub came floating over to him, saying, "Lucy, why don't we get you that new top?" She placed her hands on his shoulders and directed him out of sight of the main source of all his current woes. "I've always wanted to try some outfits with you!"

"It still needs to be formal," he said, imagining all the outfits she'd worn over the years. They always managed to be both with the times while also being on the cutting edge of what was appropriate.

She pinched his cheek. "Yes, yes, because you're somehow covering up more rather than less." She didn't ask nor did she attempt to find out why. He was ridiculously grateful for it. She produced a slew of garments from her own personal subspace dimension.

Lucifer tried not to sweat over the sheer quantity of them.

Alastor hadn't been wrong when he'd said they had time before the main event, but they didn't have enough for the quantity Beelzebub had brought. Lucifer was able to eliminate roughly half based on the fact they they did fit his aesthetic. His sister didn't look surprised by the choices he outright eliminated, leading him to believe they were there simply because she would have found enjoyment out of seeing him wearing them.

He held up one top from his remaining pile. It was a two-piece top, consisting of a fancy button-up shirt with poofy sleeves and a sleeveless waistcoat that could be laced up at the waist for a more form-fitting look. It wasn't bad, he was so going to steal it for a later day, but there was something... boyish about it. He eyed his sister. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He shook the garment for emphasis.

Beelzebub wasn't even trying to look sheepish. "Only that you'd look adorable in it!"

No one had called him adorable since he'd still had an unbroken halo and a full set of white wings. To his face, anyway. "You do remember I'm not a doll for you to play dress up with, right?"

She picked up a top with a similar vibe to it. "But you're as pretty as one, so how could I resist?"

Alastor looked like he'd swallowed a lemon or one of Asmodeus's more phallic candies. Lucifer filed that thought away for another time.

He sent the top away to his wardrobe in his room at the hotel with a small spark of magic the moment Beelzebub wasn't looking. Listening to the conversations going on around him with only half an ear, he snagged another potential choice, only to toss it aside almost immediately. A knock at the door brought an issue for Asmodeus and Fizzarolli, calling them away with the promise they'd be back shortly.

Beelzebub and Alastor became engaged in a discussion about music, not quite arguing which time period was better. Beelzebub had all of human history to pull from, but it was quickly established she preferred anything someone could dance to.

Alastor had a soft spot for Jazz, as it was the music that followed him throughout his early adult years to the end of his life. He admitted to liking some of the music that evolved from Jazz, such as swing music.

He was down to the final two potential choices - a toss up between a very high neck coat that flared in the sleeves and a more form fitting, corseted, button up tailcoat - when he heard Beelzebub's delighted exclamation of: "You can tune into Earth stations? Have you heard of XM radio?"

The seraphim blinked up at them, as Alastor responded with, "But of course, your highness! Everyone loves a radio station without commercials!"

Lucifer wondered at the full extent of Alastor's reach. Hell was supposed to be cut off from Earth and Heaven, save for specific circumstances. It was one thing to use a crystal or spell to open a portal to Earth. To walk in the dreams of humans as they slept to communicate and influence them. It was another thing entirely to actively reach through that barrier as if it wasn't there to begin with, tuning into any radio station on Earth. Something Alastor could apparently do with ease, as demonstrated by the sound of dance music, something heavily remixed, filling the air.

Beelzebub made a noise that could only be called a squeal, her fingers twitching like she was ready to make off with the sinner the first chance she got.

So distracted by the display, Lucifer didn't immediately notice that one of his hands were empty. Fingers flexing around air, he narrowed his eyes when he found the tailcoat in the grasp of one of Alastor's shadows.

"You were taking so long to choose, your Majesty," Alastor explained innocently. "I thought I might help you choose."

Feeling spiteful, Lucifer snapped the fingers of his free hand, simultaneously sending the coat with the flared sleeves away to his wardrobe while replacing his cashmere roll neck with the tailcoat.

Alastor, the little shit, merely smirked at him. Lucifer didn't like the fact that he couldn't tell if he had done exactly what the sinner had wanted him to do or not.

The doors to the office opened, signaling the return of Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. Both of their shoulders slumped in relief when the door closed firmly behind them.

"Someone blow something up again?" Beelzebub asked, sympathetically.

"I swear, this group can't go one day without blowing something up!" Asmodeus sighed, deep and long suffering. "They didn't even have the excuse of it being a prototype."

Both of his siblings made consoling hums at him. Asmodeus' attention turned to his older brother, a smile breaking out on his face when he saw Lucifer had changed clothes. "Lucy! Marvelous choice!" He paused, tilting his head. "Not really the colors I would expect from you."

That was mostly because Lucifer hadn't had a chance to fiddle with it. He smiled back, waving a hand over the top. The original coat had been forest green, with black buckles, and silver buttons. Forest green bleed out into pure white. The corset center of the coat was now his favored pink, while the buttons and buckles took on a shiny golden hue. He pondered the length of the tail, unsure if he found it too long or not. Deciding to leave it for now, he conjured his hat and cane from his room, topping off his outfit as he placed his crown on his head.

Feeling more himself, despite the change in wardrobe, he grinned. "What do you think?"

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Fizzarolli all gave approving thumbs up.

Alastor gave him a once over, smirking and unimpressed. "I suppose it's a little better than that ringleader ensemble you're so obsessed with."

Lucifer's eyebrow twitched, stalking over to the sinner. "You're on thin ice, bitch," he said saccharine sweet through gritted teeth.

Alastor watched him approach, his smirk a challenge.

Lucifer met it with one of his own. "Now I think it's your turn for a make over." He gave the sinner a lazy once over, pointedly lingering on the tattered ends of the redhead's coat. "Can't have my date in anything other than the best."

Alastor's expression darkened, almost imperceptivity. "I can't say I know what you mean, your Majesty. I always look my best." This last part was said with the undertone of a warning, not for an agreement, but to back off.

Lucifer considered the response. If anyone could recognize someone's pride having been slighted, it was the Sin of Pride himself. Alastor's pride had been poked at, but the seraphim wasn't immediately certain why. The sinner did indeed dress to impress every day, the haircut and the tattered ends of his coat too out of place not to be anything other than deliberate. So why was he upset?

The answer came from the depths he liked to keep the memories he acquired from reading one of his people's sins: the foundation of Alastor's public persona was one large middle finger to a world that had held him to a higher standard than everyone else around him, and yet, had still found him wanting at the end of the day. It was as much a defense as a way to gain a leg up against the people in power around him.

Lucifer took a step back, lessening the pressure of his approach. He asked, "Do you have anything for a formal occasion?"

A little of the tension left Alastor's stance, now that he didn't feel that he was potentially going to be accosted. "Events in Hell don't usually require a more ...formal dress attire." In other words: sinners dressed however they were going to dress and that was that. One was lucky if they chose to get dressed at all.

Still leaving all the choice in the redhead's court, the blond asked, "Can I make you a tuxedo? If you don't like it, I'll change it back." He paused, before tacking on, "I promise." It wasn't a formal deal, but he tried to keep his promises where he could.

Alastor seemed to be weighing his options, his fingers tapping against the top of his microphone. He could chose to take the offer or he could chose to go as he was, nothing more nothing less. The sinner approached on his own, pacing around his king, his gaze equal parts considering and lost in thought. "Something in my current colors," he finally responded. "If I don't like it, you change it."

Lucifer chose to be pleased that he was being given access to Alastor's person. When the redhead came to a stop in front of him, he raised his hand, keeping it in eye sight the whole time. Alastor picked up on his caution, something fond taking root in his expression. The moment Lucifer's fingers touched the helm of Alastor's sleeve, a golden flame sparked into existence.

Pure creation magic spread like a wave across the red suit, transforming it as it went along. Pin stripes were replaced by red wool of the same color, fine black thread woven into the fabric to cast the illusion that the fabric was darker from some angles. The lapels of the coat were folded back to reveal a completely black interior. A vest and pair of pants of similar design took shape. Underneath the vest, a pure white button up shirt stood out, bright and stark against the otherwise darker colors. The only thing Lucifer hadn't touched was Alastor's black bow tie.

He tiled his head, feeling there was something missing. An idea, born of random inspiration and the desire to uphold his promise to his daughter, took shape in Lucifer's mind. In one hand, a flame of creation magic appeared, raw and undirected. In the other, he formed a flame of pure hellfire. Holding the idea in his mind, he slammed his palms together. The two flames intermingled, eating at each other as they fought to either consume or transform the other. Lucifer bent the two forces to his will, forcing them to come together and take on the shape he desired: something wholly new.

When he opened his hands, sitting on his palms was a gem, one of a kind. As it tilted, the surface reflected back at him like black glass, until it settled to reveal a light within it, gleaming of hellfire. If one were to blow out all of the blue flames that lit the office, the gem would continue to give off a glow of its own. Most importantly, woven into the very fabric of the gem were powerful protection spells, ones that would protect the wearer from someone as strong as the Sins of the Goetia. It might even protect them from an archangel, although not for long.

If Alastor had been wearing this during the previous extermination, it would have likely given Adam a moment's pause. More than enough for the sinner to escape unscathed. Not that Alastor would have run, but still.

The sinner in question eyed the gem as the Devil raised it to his bowtie, securing it in place. Alastor shouldn't have the power necessary to tell what it really was. Some of the Goetia might. Anyone of them that did would know what kind of statement he was making by placing it there. It was a more physical reminder that this sinner was under his protection and he wouldn't take kindly to anyone trying to kill him.

Asmodeus and Beelzebub could tell what it was. The former was silently laughing at him, while the latter covered her mouth to hide her grin, for all the good it did.

Lucifer ignored them. He was merely keeping his promise, nothing more.

Alastor tapped the gem, the chime unlike anything he'd ever heard before. His hand traveled down his sleeve. "Wool?" There was a slight crease to his brows, unsure with the assessment.

Lucifer didn't have the slightest clue how he could tell, since the redhead was still wearing his gloves. Was Alastor pressing the cloth into his arms and could tell that way? The blonde took a step back, nodding. "Yes, vicuña wool, to be exact."

The sinner went still, his ears ramrod straight. "Vicuña wool?" His eyes were boring right into Lucifer's, something heavy in his gaze.

The blond found it difficult to tell if the reaction was a good one or a bad one. He'd chosen it because humans seemed to place great value on the wool for it's rareness and the quality of the fabric it produced. Once only for kings, only the wealthy could afford more than one garment. He largely only knew this because Asmodeus was a fan of the fabric and had raved about it on the odd occasion.

Lucifer waggled his eyebrows. "I said I'd dress you in the best, did I not?" He still felt there was something missing, not from Alastor's outfit this time, but his own. Hand aglow with his magic, he met the redhead's gaze and held it as he ran his hand down the center of the tailcoat, transforming the pink section into red.

The same red as Alastor's favored suit and current tuxedo.

The sinner huffed, the brewing conflict passing for something more possessive. He raised a hand, a single claw tapping the fabric that hid the mark he'd left. "Isn't matching color schemes as much a statement as this would have been?" His expression stated he thought Lucifer was a ridiculous creature, but he was bemused regardless.

Lucifer caught his wrist, holding on long enough to pull it away. "Didn't agree to be your property," he repeated, teeth bared in light warning.

Alastor wasn't affected, as always.

They were both startled by the loud clapping of someone's hands. All heads turned to Beelzebub, who was grinning brightly at them all. "Alright! Fashion crisis averted!" She slung her arm around her older brother's shoulders in a hug, squeezing tightly before releasing him just as quickly. "I will see all of you at the party! Got to get ready myself and then pick up the boyfriend and girlfriend!!"

She portalled out of the room before anyone could get any remark out. Lucifer mouthed 'boyfriend and girlfriend,' bewildered as to when that had happened.

Fizzarolli blinked after her. "Do you think she's going to bring anything fun with her?"

Asmodeus gave him a very light push, little more than a nudge. "Fizzy! We do not want everyone to get black out drunk in the first hour!"

The imp gave his partner a deadpan look. "Just because they can't hold their liquor doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer."

Asmodeus chuckled as he made his way over to Alastor and Lucifer. "Lucy, brother, would you make a portal to our home?" He pulled out his cellphone. "By the time the limo arrives, we should be ready."

Fizzarolli snorted. "Speak for yourself." He dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead, demonstrating his flexibility as he swooned backwards over his partner's shoulder. "Some of us have to put a little effort into it to be this beautiful."

"Aw, Fizzy, baby, you look amazing no matter what you wear." Asmodeus followed this statement up by running a finger along the underside of the imp's chin, causing Fizzarolli to giggle.

Being the sin of Pride, Lucifer could sense the dual war in his little brother's chosen partner. Fizzarolli did indeed have his pride, he couldn't be a performer of his caliber without it. He knew his talent and his worth, but underneath it lay a wound so deep it threatened to overwhelm all of it. Asmodeus' words were an ongoing healing balm, like cool, clean water over a burn.

It was... sweet.

Lucifer swallowed the envy he felt watching them, missing the warmth that came from a loving relationship. Love looked good on Asmodeus and Fizzarolli was certainly flourishing from it as well.

He opened the portal, tempted to make a comment about them just using his own limo. It was practically Charlie's at this point for all that he ever used it. When one could just teleport or portal or simply fly to their destination, why wait to drive there? The suggestion died in his throat as Asmodeus passed him, pushing him along with them. The weight of his hand was heavy, as if he could keep his older brother there with him just by holding on to him.

Lucifer supposed he could stick around a little longer and ride with them. Leave the public guessing when he was going to pop up and from where.

He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Alastor was still with them. The sinner was stepping through the portal, taking in the new room they had travelled to. There wasn't anywhere truly 'safe' to jump to unannounced, if Asmodeus was at home, but he usually kept high traffic, potentially public areas clean of anything suggestible if he was going to work. Lucifer chose the kitchen because it was as safe as anywhere else, and he and Alastor would be able to get any snacks or drinks for themselves while they waited.

Not that Alastor was likely to have much of an appetite after his indulgence the day before.

It pleased Lucifer on a petty, vindictive level to see the taller figure in this particular setting. Everything was set up to be a comfortable height for someone as tall as Asmodeus. The counter tops likely were too tall for Fizzarolli to see over, if he never took advantage of his stretchy limbs to add on some height. Alastor's head and shoulders might clear the countertops, but there was no way he was reaching any of the top shelves without going full eldritch demon or without the assistance of his shadows.

What did the foot the redhead have on him matter when they were all lacking in height in this setting?

Lucifer closed the portal behind the sinner. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli wandered off deeper into the dwelling with the former telling them to "Make yourselves at home!" as they went off, likely to their bedroom. The king listened to their voices for as long as he could, keeping a watchful eye out as Alastor explored the new space.

He smirked upon seeing the exact moment the sinner realized the tips of his ears weren't on level with the bottom of the cabinets, the sinner lazily blinking at them like he found their placement ridiculous. He might have asked if Alastor needed any assistance, if not for the fact that even he could tell that would be walking right into a short joke. Instead, he simply conjured a pair of glasses as he settled in at the table taking up the center of the kitchen. "Care for anything to drink while we wait?" He filled his own with juice, waving the second empty one in invitation.

Alastor peered over at him from where he had moved on to inspecting a potted floral arrangement made up of one Lust Ring's indigenous flora, a plant with blue leaves tipped with purple. His eyes tracked the movement of the glass. "Wouldn't cake be more beneficial in this instance, sire?" His grin extended from ear to ear, teeth alight from within. "Wouldn't want to get any shorter, now would we?"

The reference almost went over his head. Of course he'd somehow find a way to throw in a short joke. Lucifer leaned an elbow on the table, crossing his legs. "Please, I'm hardly the white rabbit." He placed the glass on table. Alastor could take it or leave it. "And you're certainly no Alice."

Alastor abandoned the plant in favor of stalking over to Lucifer and the table. He tapped the lip of the glass, and then abandoned as just as uninteresting as the plant. The floor to ceiling window on the other side of the kitchen, however, seemed to catch his interest. "No," he agreed. Moving as if entranced, he made his way over to it. "I've always thought the Cheshire Cat suited be better."

He was certainly as annoying one, anyway.

Lucifer could only guess how different the blues and pinks of the Lust Ring must look after nearly a hundred years of the constant red of the Pride Ring. The radio host, in his own shades of red and black, stood out like a sore thumb, almost like a reminder of which of the rings he belonged to. His ears were completely forward, intent on catching the soft patter of the rain against the glass.

"Would his Majesty be willing to answer a little question?" Alastor met his gaze through his reflection against the glass.

Lucifer swirled his juice. His first impulse was to put stipulations on the exchange. Milking information out of the sinner usually cost something, why shouldn't getting information from the Devil cost the same? But Lucifer didn't have the energy to stoop to the sinner's level at the moment, so he decided to go with generous. "Depends on the question."

To a point.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't for Alastor to ask, "Does it always rain in the Lust Ring?"

"Yes?" Lucifer was more than a little baffled over why such a thing might interest Alastor, until he remembered that the only rain in the Pride Ring was acid rain. It tainted the water until the only safe sources were those kept safe from any access to the open sky. Anyone unlucky enough to be out in it would likely receive some nasty burns. "Oh, it's not acid rain. Only the Pride Ring has acid rain." The Greed Ring was certainly working it's way towards it, though.

Black tipped, red ears twisted 90 degrees around, Alastor being more focused on the little king than the rain. "And what makes the Pride Ring so special?"

The blonde gave a low grumble of disapproval. "Seems like you have more than one question."

Alastor pointed the head of his staff out into the room, circling it around to showcase it's emptiness. "Would you prefer I poke around your little brother's kitchen to pass the time?" His tone suggested he would absolutely make sure to mess with something, just to be a nuisance.

Lucifer had half a mind to let him do it, just to see what would happen if he did. He sighed, put upon by choices that had led him to babysitting a sinner in his little brother's home. "Hell didn't look much like anything when we got here." He put his drink down, loosing all interest in it. "It wasn't originally meant to be our prison. It was just convenient to throw us into it."

It had been decided from the moment Eve had bitten into the apple that anyone who allowed themselves to be consumed by the Root of All Evil's influences would be tossed down to join her in her prison. Foreseeing it would get bad, God had decided that Lucifer's punishment was to be trapped with the worst of the worst, forced to watch all the ways his decision had gone terribly wrong.

"When my siblings and I recovered, we joined our powers together to create the other rings." He nodded to the window, more a nod to the Rings as a whole than just Lust in general. "Lilith and I stayed in Pride. She wanted to be with her people." He paused. Amended, albeit grudgingly, "Our people. My siblings each headed south and claimed a ring for themselves."

He was a bit fuzzy on the early details following their arrival in Hell. Lucifer had been terribly injured in the fight leading up to their imprisonment, and then further injured protecting Lilith from the Fall. His siblings, each dealing with their own injuries, hadn't been able to lend a helping hand. The moment Lucifer had been recovered enough to help with making their new home more comfortable, he'd proceeded to push too hard, too fast, creating the Seven Rings all at once rather than one at a time. They had tried to warn him to take it easy, to slow down, but he had been desperate to do something right by his family. Even with the added help of his siblings' power, he'd gone down hard.

By the time he regained consciousness, the first sinners had already begun to arrive and his siblings had already moved into their respective rings. Everything had been decided with very little impute from him. Considering how exhausted he'd been, both physically and emotionally, it had been easier to go with the flow. He hadn't cared either way, to be brutally honest about it.

Alastor looked like he could tell there was more to that story, but let it go. "And the Hellborn?"

Lucifer shrugged. "They were already here when we got here." Belphegor had speculated that the Hellborn were Roo's response to humanity, but she hadn't been able to prove it. As time passed, the natural flora and fauna of Hell had evolved and expanded exponentially with the introduction of different environments, until there were multiple different species of both. Earth evolved slowly over time, but Hell evolved in leaps and bounds. "We did start getting different types over time, though."

"And human's being delegated to the Pride Ring?" There was something about the tone that suggested that this had been the question Alastor had been working up to all along.

The blonde pushed back from the table, rising to his feet. He came over to stand behind his date for the night, just to the side enough to see out the window. "An agreement between Lilith and my siblings." He tapped the apple end of his cane against his chin. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Mostly to keep down the fighting between the Hellborn and the sinners. Humans were innovative creatures and putting the worse of the worse in one place together was always going to be a recipe for disaster. The Hellborn hadn't stood a chance. Now the sinners fought primarily with themselves, while the Hellborn lived lives as varied as humans did on Earth.

Alastor fell silent. For a while, they simply stood listening to the rain, lost in their own thoughts. Lucifer thought he might be content to mull over the new information he had received, when he broke the silence to ask, "The acid rain?"

"A present from Heaven." From behind them, Asmodeus answered before his brother could, his voice an unhappy rumble. Alastor turned to face the sin, while Lucifer left his back to his little brother. Asmodeus approached, setting his hand on Lucifer's shoulder. His hand was large enough it encompassed the blonde's shoulder and the upper part of his back. "Michael thought Lucy's kingdom was looking too nice."

"A nice way of saying Michael was still angry at me." Lucifer internally grimaced at the memory of his twin's face, distorted in anger, at the way Lilith was thriving. That Lucifer wasn't doing anything to curb it. As if he ever would. "He thought making Hell more difficult to survive would curb everyone's spirits." He snorted. "Jokes on him, because they only infected the Pride Ring and humanity is... stubborn."

It was an admirable quality, even if it often got them into trouble. It was something Lucifer could relate to.

Lucifer shook off the thoughts before they dragged him down into too much of a melancholic mood. He already had to deal with the public and it wouldn't do if he couldn't even last more than an hour with them. He stepped away, turning as he did so that he could get a look at his brother. Asmodeus had changed into a suit similar to his usual one. The colors were more vibrant and he had added a business coat over it.

Fizzarolli, notably, wasn't on his shoulder.

Noticing where Lucifer was looking, Asmodeus laughed. "Fizzy needs a little more time." He began to usher his older brother towards the door, Alastor following of his own violation least the sin decide to get the idea of getting handsy with him. "It's his first time out in public since giving Mammon the literal finger and he wants to put on his best." As they neared the main entrance to Asmodeus' home, the sin called out towards the bedroom, "Fizzy Frog! Babe! You picked out your outfit a week ago!"

From the bedroom came the shout of, "But Ozzie! It needs to be perfect!" Fizzarolli appeared a moment later. The imp was wearing a white laced jester styled outfit, fitted with a laced up bodice that was black on one side and red on the other. His hat matched his bodice, with the colors switched, while being white underneath. Similarly, the hearts adorning his shoulders and forehead alternated the red and black pattern. "I need to look badass."

Asmodeus could move fast for someone his height, when he wanted to. He cleared the room in nearly two strides, picking his partner up. "Fizz, you look amazing. No one is going to say other wise."

Fizzarolli didn't appear completely convinced. "I just don't want anyone to talk shit about you if I don't."

He received a pat to the nose with a single finger and a no nonsense tone from Asmodeus, "The only person you need to impress at this event is yourself." The blue and pink sin hugged him close. "No one else's opinions matter."

Fizzarolli took a deep breathe, his anxiety visibly calming. "You're right!" He grinned, his whole expression lighting up. "And if they don't like me, who cares? Because I don't need them!"

Asmodeus beamed at him. "Exactly!" He made his way over, ready to shuffle everyone out the door. "Now where is that limo?"

Right on cue, a horn blasted outside.

Lucifer allowed himself to be shuffled outside, casting a glance at Alastor as the human-turned-demon got his first feel of normal rain since he'd died. The sinner held out a hand, cupped it to catch the water. Nostalgia softened the sharp edges of his smile into a more real one. Lucifer turned away when Alastor stepped out fully, tilting his head back to enjoy the feel of the rain on his face.

Lucifer refused to admit that Alastor was actually kind of handsome, when he was being honest with himself and the world.

The ride through Lust and then up to Pride was filled with small talk and blessedly uneventful. Lucifer, Asmodeus, and Fizzarolli had all been through the various ways to travel the Rings, so they were more interested in their conversation than the sights. Having never left the Pride Ring before, Alastor was more absorbed with the sights than their attempts to include him. He gave off the distinct impression that even if the sights hadn't been more interesting, he likely wouldn't have engaged with them anyway.

Lucifer could feel the uptick in his nerves as they entered the Pride Ring and the closer they got to Stolas' manor. The crowd of people outside, wanting to catch any glimpse of Hell's royals were lined up a mile away, all climbing over each other on the slimmest chance they would catch a glimpse of someone. The paparazzi had managed to secure the area closest to the drop off point, ensuring they would get the first photographs of the arriving guests.

A weight settled on the nap of his neck, the prick of one of Alastor's claws just above his high collar stealing Lucifer's attention before he could begin to spiral and reminding him that he wasn't alone. The mix of gratefulness and frustration was a heady feeling in his gut, even as he leaned subtly back into that hand.

The wait until it was their turn to disembark was both far too short and far too long. A portion of the crowd was especially intent on following Asmodeus' limo, the reason made all too easy to sus out.

Lucifer squinted at the signs, pointing at a particularly graphic one. "Are those... fans?"

Fizzarolli was a equal mix of put upon and repulsed. "Yeah, Mammon isn't very big on keeping boundaries between his cash cows and the... fans."

Visible through the crowd, the same fan - fanatic, rather - proceeded to do something extremely lude and inappropriate with what appeared to be a doll version of the jester.

Heaven was very dull and boring, Lucifer would never tell anyone otherwise, but he sure did miss it at times like this.

tbc

Part 16

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #hazbin hotel #i am so sorry for how long it took to get this out #this chapter is the first time a chapter has gotten so large #i had to cut it in two #not sure if the HB cast is in character #but i've been enjoying working with them #stolas and some of the other cast will appear in the next chapter!#the next chapter is already written out #and should be out sometime during the weekend!#the pic is by me as a thank you to all the lovely readers #who have left me a like and a comment #you keep me going #thank you all so much!

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imthepunchlord · 1 month

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Which power would you give to peafowl and bee?

Peafowl I would work with something related to vision. For if there's one thing that really stands out for peacocks, it's the eye motif.

And there's a lot you can do with a power around vision.

It could be a power of foresight, see the future, the closer the closer the more likely (which peacocks are tied to foresight, looking to the future). You can just straight up call it Clairvoyance.

You can do an alternative take to illusions. Whoever meets a Peafowl's gaze gets trapped in a daydream of their own making, unaware of reality around them. Where Fox does illusions that they control and all can see, Peafowl has no control what people see, and no one else can see what others see. It can be called Fantasy. Additionally, peacocks are tied to maya, which is Sanskrit for illusion/magic.

Peafowl could have a power of mind reading, meet the eyes of another and get to "see" their thoughts and intentions. Could be Mind's Eye. It could also be a nice nod to the third eye chakra, which does match with Peafowl a lot in terms of symbolism and themes.

Peafowl could have something related to truth. You see what is true. You see someone's true colors. You see through illusions. You see what is hidden from you, like ghosts.

Lastly, Peafowl could have something related to hypnosis. Hypnotism through eyes is a thing that's done in media (though usually with snakes).

But given the many eyes to gaze upon you, it could be done. It could also play off a Peafowl's beauty, they're allure, how they can charm and bewitch someone.

Any of these ideas I would take for Peafowl and I think would work well. Some of these can even work off Mayura being a more out in the open.

Now for Bee, I take the stance that they should've done something related to team work, working with others, a fellowship/community, connection with other life. That to me stands out so much more than bees stinging. That's very surface level when diving into what bees are tied to, which I'll give them, there is a Hindu bee goddess (Bhrami) who stings a demon to death.

But over all, bees are more about togetherness and communication. To be kind and open minded, but take no bull.

One idea I really like that canon did bring in, was working with a magical swarm of bees.

And they could do various things for you, as you are their director. They can swarm to cause a panic (but not actually sting as that kills bees), they can gather intel and you can spy through them, they can be used for long range communication and act as little animated flying walkies, they could mass restore, they could prompt plant growth for psuedo plant manipulation.

The catch to this pretty OP power? You got to be a good director of this hive. If you are a terrible leader or a terrible person, these bees will unionize and leave. And they will not come back. No matter how many times you retransform, your hive is gone, at least until Pollen thinks you're worthy to direct them. So until you grow and change how you are, you are powerless as a Miraculous user if your bees unionize. Could call this Hive Mind to work off a community working as a big unit.

The other option would be to just straight up doing plant manipulation, though I would like to have it be that plants are resistive to you if you lack compassion for life. This could be Pollination to work off Pollen's name.

Between the two, would lean more Hive Mind, but if some think that's too OP, Pollination still works well. Both meet what I want for Bee, something related to teamwork.

#ask Punchie #miraculous changes #peafowl miraculous #peacock miraculous #bee miraculous

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barksenji · 2 months

Text

Hi, welcome to wasp indoctrination. You're going to be indoctrinated.

I was fighting with people about wasps in a YouTube comment section and thought I'd share some interesting information here as well:

Wasps are incredible pest controllers! Over 30,000 species of solitary and social wasps hunt a wide range of invertebrates, including bugs, spiders, roaches, and flies. They are likely as effective at regulating the populations of these organisms as other top predators like insectivorous birds, mammals, and amphibians. Additionally, their short lives and rapid reproduction allow them to closely match fluctuations in prey populations.

The chemicals we use to keep our crops free of insect pests are harmful to wildlife and ecosystems. Although pesticides are designed to target specific insect species, research reveals the non-lethal effects these chemicals have on non-target insects. We need to explore more sustainable approaches to agriculture.

This is where wasps come in! Using natural predators, like predatory wasps, is a viable solution. Wasps are also pollinators. Although they hunt prey to feed their growing offspring, adult wasps are herbivores, similar to bees, and visit flowers for sugar. For much of the year, adult social wasps are fed by their larvae, which provide them with a nutritious sugar solution in return for the meat they are given. Social wasps visit flowers mainly in spring and late summer when larvae numbers are low, while solitary wasps can be seen on flowers throughout the year since they do not benefit from larval nutrition.

Some plants are entirely dependent on wasps for pollination; scientists have identified 164 plant species across six families, most of which are orchids that have evolved to mimic female wasp pheromones, if I'm not wrong, some even resembling the back end of a female wasp!

If you think wasps are evil because they sting, it might be due to the CO2 from your breath, which makes them aggressive. CO2 acts as a natural alarm signal at their nest. Holding your breath for 10, 30, or even 50 seconds (good luck lmao) can make them less likely to detect your presence, resulting in bees and wasps leaving you alone.

Lastly, not all wasps are the same. Different species exhibit different behaviors and levels of aggression. For example, Mud dauber wasps, found throughout North America, are known to be the least aggressive. They rarely sting and are not protective over their nests, preferring to nest in areas with access to mud, such as underneath bridges, under eaves, or in attics.

Anyways, I hope you love wasps now. I'm totally not an undercover wasp writing this.

#bug #bugs #insect #insects #bugblr #wasp #wasps #there's two hated animals I defend with my life #the wasps #and Eustass Kid from One Piece #yes he is an animal too

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rxtchetprime · 1 year

Text

i want ratchet and june to interact more. so i wrote some stuff down.

i want june to introduce human biology and medicine to ratchet. i want to see them compare notes of the medical and biological differences and similarities of humans and cybertronians.

ratchet asking about the history of medicine and june recounting how medicine used to be things like leeches and soda but are now actual thought out formulas for certain illnesses. june teaches ratchet about otc medicines like ibuprofen and tylenol. she goes into detail the biology of humans and ratchet will point out things here and there that are similar to their biology.

after a while of learning about humans, ratchet will keep a few first aid kits for them around. he sets up a small corner of the medbay for the humans aswell. if one of the children or even fowler gets injured and june isnt around, he'll activate his holoform and tend to their wounds to the best of his ability until june can get there as soon as she can.

the nurse is usually left impressed by the level of care shown in how ratchet dresses bandages, tucks in the paitent, and pays attention to monitor the persons vitals. shes proud of him, and also impressed at how quickly that he picked up on the vast differences of taking care of their species.

if jack offhandedly complains about a headache, ratchet will hand him a bottle of tylenol and a glass of water, he'll gently carry the teen to the couch that is set up in the base and advise him to rest. if miko comes in and looks like death warmed over, he'll hand her a heating pad and a small sweet treat to cheer her up. and if raf comes in feeling sick from a common cold, he'll make the boy a bowl of soup and allow raf to sleep in the crook of his neck. fowler getting injured in an altercation with a decepticon, ratchet patches him up and lets him rest in the medbay.

the other bots notice ratchet's new interest in human health and wellbeing, and how gentle he is with them. but they just smile and carry on, ratchet is a medic, its in his nature to learn about how to help others.

but also, give me june being interested in cybertronian biology. let ratchet teach her basics of first aid for bots. ratchet describes certain things like "pain that comes and goes in a bot's joints" and june tells him that humans call it chronic pain. "a pulsing pain in a bots helm" "thats a headache, ratch."

since the bots are just, metal, that means that their type of wounds dont need a long time to heal, they just weld themselves together. ratchet uses his holoform to teach june how to properly weld together injuries so that if he is unavalible, june can take care of it until ratchet is back.

since those lessons, june keeps a leather apron and a welding helmet around at base.

arcee coming back with a gash in her side, june has her sit on the floor so she can reach and gently tends to her wound. she advices her to get some energon in her systems and rest for a little bit. bulkhead with a few scratches here and there that hes complaining about stinging, june can buff them out. one of bee's doorwings is cracked and hurting, this is beyond her, she sits with him and comforts him until ratchet can get back to tend to them. optimus stalking out of recharge at an unholy hour looking uncomfortable and moving stiff, june lets him sit with her as he fans his plating out to relieve some of the pain in his joints.

the kids notice that ratchet and june have gotten closer lately, but they both need someone to confide in. let them have their bitchy medic talks, let them compare notes. theyre happy and theyre learning :)

#tfp #transformers prime #macaddam #tfp ratchet #june darby #orion mumbles #tf headcanons

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bestworstcase · 4 months

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Hi, just joined Tumblr earlier today as part of an unrelated thing, thought I'd check your page out on a friend's rec, and... wow. Just, wow. This is practically the nine-dimensional chess of media literacy. I would have so many question, but everything you discuss is promptly explained in such great detail that I can't even say that. One question remains, though: *how?* Where do you get the absurd amount information and brainpower required to connect the show's many, many dots at this high of a level? It's something I struggle with myself (though that may be due to there being over a year between watching V1-V8 and seriously starting to reflect on the show beyond "well, that was a fun sequence of events"—thank you, newish fanfic writing brain—but that's besides the point), and I was wondering if you had any tips for expanding one's thinking in this direction, as the show still means a *lot* to me—there's a reason, however unexplainable, that I stuck with it so long before the reflections started—and I'd love it if the deepest parts of my brain could reflect it as such.

...Unless that's too much to ask, in which case, whoops! Either way, thank you.

really fundamentally the most effective thing you can do to practice is make a deliberate effort to cultivate a sense of curiosity toward the text. and what i mean by that is, get in the habit of asking yourself questions as if you’re in a high school english lit class: what happened in this scene? why did this character say or do that? does this conversation remind you of anything that happened in an earlier scene, and if so, what’s similar? what’s different? what did you learn about the characters from this scene? what did you learn about the world they live in? why do you think this scene was important enough to be in the story? what changed in this scene (something will always have changed)?

it may feel a bit patronizing at first BUT over time if you’re consistent about it, doing this will train you to approach reading or watching as an active participant. analytical interpretation is a skill and like any skill it takes sustained effort and practice.

after that it’s sort of just pattern recognition. this is true of all stories but it’s especially true of theme-driven stories like rwby because they tend to be very deliberate about repeating and refracting their ideas and often develop rich symbolic vocabularies. so you identify a pattern and then examine the text until you can develop a compelling argument for what it means.

one thing to keep in mind if you’re generally familiar with fandom is that fandom encourages a lot of practices that are cool and fun in fannish contexts but will poison analysis because they are (by nature of being transformative) untethered from the text. headcanon, for example, is things held to be true irrespective of the text—one could have as a headcanon that ruby is allergic to bee stings or that qrow is her father or whatever and it doesn’t matter that there’s no textual evidence or that the text says otherwise because the text is not relevant—but analytically, you must be able to back every part of your argument with textual evidence. so it is useful to practice compartmentalizing to keep headcanon strictly separated from the text in your mind.

(that’s also a practice i recommend in general because being able to say “i like this idea and i have it in mind when i create fanworks, but it isn’t canonical” is healthy)

a good habit to get into is arguing against yourself and holding yourself to a high standard of proof. the reason my argumentation tends to be so thorough is that i try to be as skeptical of my own theories as i am of other people’s. if i have an idea that seems right but doesn’t withstand textual scrutiny, i discard it. (or i might toss it into the headcanon/au idea pile, if i’m very fond of it.) i will often develop more than one argument about a given subject and then lay them all against the text before i commit to one. being skeptical will push you to pay closer attention.

cultivate curiosity about your own emotional reactions, too. what did this scene make you feel? why? how do you feel about this or that character? what draws you to your favorite characters? what distances you from the characters you don’t like? what ideas come to mind when you think about the story and what it means to you? if you have a strong reaction to something—good or bad—try to trace that feeling to its root. what sparked it and why?

once you start digging into that you’ll find that your intuitive reactions to the story are non-arbitrary—you’re subconsciously picking up on certain patterns or themes that resonate with you. so paying attention to what the story makes you feel and asking how and why it incites those feelings will guide you to conscious discovery of things you’ve already noticed without noticing.

and another good point of entry is to look for recurring symbols / imagery—for example, silver-eyes get associated with death and reincarnation through a combination of harvest/reaper imagery (scythe, sickle, ‘the grimm reaper’) and butterflies (ruby’s first glare resembles wings, butterflies everywhere when she and maria discuss her eyes, butterflies symbolizing ascension in the ever after). adding this pattern together with the white light in the liminal void between realms (the threshold of life and death!), the implication that silver-eyes came from ozma (who dies and reincarnates cyclically), the stated purpose of the glare (to preserve and protect life), ruby hearing pyrrha’s final words in her dreams (which she didn’t hear in reality), and the glare having destroyed the hand cinder used to kill pyrrha, is how i got to “silver-eyes are psychopomps,” because both the symbolism and the narrative facts about the power line up in that direction.

the one thing to be careful with in relation to symbolism is not to treat it like a secret code! symbolic meaning isn’t universal so you should always consider symbolism in context with the narrative. the first question should always be “what idea does this image appear in connection to, when it appears?” i.e. the burning rose in rwby symbolizes mourning. think of symbols as more like trail markers that the narrative has placed to help you understand the story by connecting dots. we see the burning rose on summer’s grave and then we see it on ruby; she carries her mother’s absence with her. she gives the brooch away in the ever after right after the blacksmith shows her a glimpse of summer, and then in the storm her reflection is summer but ruby doesn’t look, doesn’t see: she’s avoiding her grief, trying to pretend it isn’t there. and then the brooch returns to her once she faces what the blacksmith wanted to show her about her mom: now it’s a symbol for acceptance of loss.

and with a story like rwby that uses allusion to develop its thematic narrative it’s really helpful to read the texts it alludes to! the core narrative allusions are the marvelous land of oz, maiden in tower fairytales (petrosinella, persinette, rapunzel), cinderella, and the little prince, plus alice’s adventures in wonderland & through the looking glass for the ever after. and then every major character has a specific character allusion. both kinds of allusion are symbolic/thematic (you can’t use allusions to predict specific plot events but they help tie together emotional arcs and character relationships cohesively, and the narrative allusions are pretty good weather vanes for very broad-strokes things like ozma’s symbolic blindness being ‘healed’ in the end).

rewatching the show a couple of times will also help, especially if you take notes. i’m not sure how many times i’ve rewatched v1-8 but it’s a lot and i’ve watched v9 in full twice, plus rewatching a lot of specific episodes or scenes for reference. rewatching will help you spot patterns that you missed before and increase your familiarity with the text in general, both of which help tremendously.

#the adhd helps. also

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idontknowreallywhy · 4 months

Text

Resurface 25 - Regroup

Story so far (let’s be honest, all this resolution stuff will seem pretty random if you haven’t got the backstory but it does involve a puppy pile and who needs justification for that)

A bit more of the aftermath. It doesn’t go anywhere fast but as I keep telling myself These Things Take Time To Work Through.

I mean nobody actually expected any plot furtherance to have occurred in the past fortnight did they?! You should know me better than that by now 😏

(Side note - I am going to put it out there and say I think I’m going to have this wrapped up in 30 chapters, plus an epilogue that is already written… so the plane is on the approach, as it were ;) )

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Scott woke in a nest.

He was fairly sure he hadn’t gone to sleep in one.

However, given he was not alone and that the sounds of slumber surrounding him were so familiar and beloved, he decided to go with it for now. There was time for for a subtle situation assessment at least.

It was warm and his situation was objectively comfy, despite being on the floor. A department store’s worth of pillows had been deployed around him at some stage, there were many blankets and numerous other, as yet unidentified, fluffy objects. The comfort-level was actually almost aggressively high.

Subjectively though… everything ached like it would with an intense bout of flu. All his bones felt wrong, as if his skeleton had been taken out, thrown down the stairs, and shoved back in at random. There was a constant background throb inside his skull. His throat, his eyes, his nostrils… all felt swollen like they’d been attacked by angry bees. Had he been sick? His heart dropped a little, if he was sick he shouldn’t be sharing his nest - he’d be infectious!

He thought about moving and sneaking away but every muscle point blank refused. His family were in the nest and he really needed them right now. He always did, but the need to be physically close felt suddenly emotionally overwhelming, like trapping a cold finger under something heavy or walking on a block of Lego… for a few seconds his brain couldn’t process any other information.

When the bunch of mush inside his head did reboot, it noted the soles of his feet were stinging sharply. That was both new and distinctly unusual for flu…

OH! The glass. Of course.

That.

All that. Oh.

Oh Virgil.

He tightened his arms around his biggest little brother who rumbled some sleepy nonsense in response. The two of them appeared to be covered in Scott’s old bathrobe. And what Scott had initially interpreted as Virgil’s arm slung over the both of them from behind him in fact ended in one of John’s elegant hands… a John who happened to be wearing one of Virgil’s flannel shirts. No, wait… Scott squinted at the cuff in the half light… Two. John was sporting double plaid.

You know what, fair enough.

The squid was squidding on Virgil’s other side, limbs locked on and only a shock of dark blonde hair visible as his face was buried between Virgil’s shoulder blades. A long time ago Scott would have worried at his ability to breathe in that position but although their little fish had not yet developed the ability to respire underwater (much to his obvious frustration), he had long proven himself perfectly able to obtain sufficient oxygen through apparently impermeable brotherly surfaces.

Scott reached out with all available senses to locate the final piece of the brother puzzle and it didn’t take long. Allie’s pointy chin dug into his thigh and… yeah he’d been drooling in his sleep the same way he had ever since he was a toddler. The soggy patch on his jeans was going to be hard to ignore now he’d noticed it but, aww, Allie.

A lithe dark shape reclined in the bedside chair, constantly on guard even in slumber. A smaller stockier one was tucked into the bed, snoring ever so gently.

As Scott’s eyes adjusted to the gloom he noticed a mysterious green glow in the armchair in the far corner - lifting his head ever so slightly he could identify MAX’s standby light glinting off a pair of glasses.

Truly, everyone was here.

As if knowing she’d been left off his mental checklist a hologram popped up from the bedside comm at 10% brightness, still a surprise that made him blink his eyes rapidly to compensate. The familiar ring of lights flickering then shifting into a single question mark.

He wasn’t sure when his feelings had shifted from being creeped out to being comforted by her constant watch over them all but, his heart warmed by the enquiry, he raised a hand, ever so gradually, to form a thumbs up.

The lights shifted and spun in a rainbow of colours before mimicking the thumbs up symbol, shifting quickly to a heart shape and then a series of Zs before blinking out.

He couldn’t decide whether he was more amused that EOS was now communicating via teenage emoji-speak or that she was now also nagging him to sleep. Virgil had started snoring slightly and that always had a soporific effect and so a large part of Scott’s brain was inclined to take her advice. He screwed up his face trying to suppress a huge yawn. After all… given he knew someone was keeping an eye on things…

perhaps it would be ok to let himself… drift… just a little…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Virgil woke in a symphony of family.

It was not, he would acknowledge, what most people would understand as music. Sure, he could hear them, could pick out their individual ways of breathing and all their other little sleep noises as easily as if they spoke their names in a roll call. But it wasn’t entirely an auditory thing. Nor was it entirely a visual, olfactory or tactile thing either… not entirely, although they all played a part.

He felt them all, their presence surrounded him in full technicolour. And he could hear the colours and see the inaudible sounds of the music they made merely by existing.

He knew each brother’s melody, and those of Kayo, Grandma and Hiram too… they wove around and through him and harmonised with his own motif, supporting it, lifting it, enhancing it into something more beautiful. He made sense. He knew he was home precisely where he belonged. He was safe. Everyone accounted for.

And yet…

There was another here too.

Hollow. Barely tangible. No life force of his own, he… it… was fuelled by desperation and denial… memory mutated. Virgil knew he was there and yet his presence was only a shadow.

He opened one eye with a sense of trepidation and, suspicion confirmed, closed it again, curling his body back into the embrace of the real and the solid.

Gordon clung to his left, Scott surrounded his right, the scent of both flooded over him, he could feel their breath. But he could feel Him too.

Virgil knew what was happening - he’d been here before, after all. And now he knew, he knew it would pass soon and in a significant way that made it less horrifying, albeit still deeply deeply uncomfortable. But… perhaps… he could approach this with a degree of scientific detachment? Virgil slowly opened his eyes, allowed the light of dawn to enter his pupils and wondered how much of what he would see was actually entering his brain that way.

Standing, head bowed, by the end of the bed was Scott.

His Scotty. His best, most faithful friend, familiar as his own soul.

Broken.

Bearded, battered, bruised… he raised his face to meet Virgil’s gaze from within darkened, swollen eye sockets, blue only just managing to penetrate the mess of yellow, purple and red.

Cheekbones like knives, skeletal hands peeking out from sleeves of that cursed blue, the wrong blue. Not Scott’s bright astral blue. Too dark, too formal. It smothered him.

He looked so tired and so faded he was almost grey.

Virgil’s heart stuttered - how could he have let this happen? He was supposed to look after him! He was supposed to prevent…

The big brother Scott that was his conscience frowned, the haggard wraith Scott that was his sickness shook his head, the sleepy but solid Scott who held him close tightened his grip as if to stop him launching himself down that mental rabbit hole. Virgil allowed himself a tiny amused smile as he briefly closed his eyes to savour the hug - no version of Scott, real or illusory, would ever stand by and let him take the blame.

He looked up again, intending to whisper an apology anyway…

But he was gone.

And he was here.

He was right here.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #resurface fic #hurt/comfort #Tw: psychosis #Tw: mental health

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