#its like i need to do everything but i have no desire to do anything

[dayxero]

Alright.... I gotta get this off my chest here because I've been pondering this for a while. A small fraction of a MUCH greater rant but... fucking hell am I addicted to @aychama's art. Like on a oddly surreal level. I absolutely adore the portrayal of these two together and the tension and atmosphere always gets me more giddy than a japanese school girl!

However... this comes with one major issue I personally have and know its 100% opinionated and biased. Ain't trying to hurt anyone's feelings but if anyone wants to disagree with or block me if you follow this stupid, idiotic tirade of mine, feel free. I understand and take full responsibility for what I'm about to say...

Ok here goes; aychama has done such an amazing job selling me on the fact that these two are damaged souls, seeking love, understanding and connection, that I get the feeling once The Betrayal occurs, I won't be satisfied in the slightest. It goes back to how in all honesty, I am annoyed with how the majority of the fanbase collective agrees that Narinder is a liar and is morally, evil, despite every aspect of the game subtly going out of its way to prove the opposite and its in fact just the Bishops and later, the Lamb "Player" who are the ones who are evil, and Narinder is a victim of his own hubris. This is one of the reasons why I aggravated towards aychama's portrayal of Narinder so much because he's almost 1-to-1 lined with his representation in the game. He has his own goals and mostly keeps to himself. He's searching for a way to bypass Death to grant not just himself, but everyone he knows true immortality and he hasn't told a single lie to Lambert or anyone he's spoken to.

Aychama's Narinder has yet to preform any acts worthy of being called evil and beyond the spouted opinions of those who envy the Kings, Narinder hasn't done anything wrong. In fact, he seems to be extremely lonely and focused, knowing he's walking a path many will not accept, but is choosing to do so for a reason beyond just a desire to subjugate others for personal pleasure. This lines up perfectly with the game, and especially the DLC where Shamura admits he led the Bishops to attack and bind Narinder, because he was afraid if Narinder granted mortals immortality, mortals would feel no need to rely on their Gods and thus, they would lose power and control. They feared that Narinder was going to take those who prayed to him, and eliminate their greatest fears, thus setting them free from Cosmic Law.

That doesn't sound like Narinder was ever evil to begin with and again, its why if Lambert does betray Narinder, I don't think I'll be satisfied, given how their relationship is developing. I know both are currently wearing masks to hide their true goals, disguising their intentions yet are still desperately reaching out for the other and knowing Narinder isn't, or hasn't been shown to be evil, means that despite Lamb supposedly being the protagonist and "hero", would be committing an evil act be it of corruption of power, or for the sake of their own pride and therefore, makes it hard for me to even begin to root for their success. They would be actively killing or enslaving the only person who ever treated them like a person of equal merit, who took time to see them for who they are, and didn't use their vulnerability against them, for wholly selfish reasons that wouldn't gel well with my brain.

Long-Winded, I know but it basically comes down to the idea that, unless aychama goes out of their way to make Narinder comically evil, or have Lambert corrupted so thoroughly that they become everything they hated about the Ruling Class, I can't see the betrayal actually happening. And even then, if and when it does, I get the feeling it won't hit hard because one or both would have to drift so far beyond their current characterizations that they would feel unrecognizable. Of course I can admit that I might be 100% wrong here. For all I know, aychama might pull some awesome plot twist outta their ass and just get me right in the feels or pull a bait-and-switch and go full AU with their own desired outcome or ending that they're holding onto. Either way...... this is probably my second favorite version of the NariLamb pairing because I love how raw, sensual and passionate it feels. I'm a sucker for two broken people desperately relying on each other and giving up everything to maintain that love and connection. I just hope that whatever ending they have planned, won't leave an empty feeling on the series because I'm drooling over this couple like a fat kid at a candy store and it never fails to leave me thirsty for more god damnit! lol

You guys know how it’s said that cats purr heals? Yea…

[thosewickedlovelies]

Crossroads: the second meeting | Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: The second of your and Joel’s promised three meetings. And third, and fourth, and…?

Tags: we’ve got INTRIGUE, we’ve got ~demonic temptation~ (consensually), we’ve got getting caught in the rain 👀; it’s all happening. demon!Joel; not an age gap fic. Reader has their period in one scene, but honestly aside from that we’re still a GN!Reader.

Words: 6,717

Note: We are IN IT now babes okay I promise, if you thought the first meeting was boring just forget about it and read this one 😌🙏🏼

Crossroads | Moodboard | Masterlist

No matter how you angled, jiggled, or cajoled it, your front door key remained firmly stuck in its lock. With a deep sigh, you rested your forehead against the painted wood, and you thought of Joel. Right now your greatest desire was to be inside your house; you wondered what price he would demand to grant your wish.

“You rang?”

Gasping, you spun around. Your heart slammed in your chest. “Jesus! Joel! What the fuck!”

In the hallway behind you, Joel came to a stop. He put his hands up, a chuckle rolling out of him. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Could sense you wishin’ for my company, that’s all.”

“I wasn’t wishing for your company.” Lingering adrenaline sharpened your tongue, and the words sliced from it before you could consider who you were talking to. “I was wishing for your powers, so they could give me a damn working door.”

In the dim hall, It was hard to read the glimmer in his golden eyes. “Whatever you say, kitten.” Joel nodded toward the door, and it swung inward.

You scrambled after it, but the key remained firmly stuck in the lock.

You sent him a disbelieving look.

Joel shrugged innocently. “What? You didn’t say permanently working. You gotta be specific with these things.”

You took a deep breath, very deliberately focusing all of your attention on easing the key free. Once it was, though, there was nothing to distract you from the reality: Joel was at your house. Finding you in town was one thing, but appearing outside your home…

You smothered your nervousness. “Do I need to invite you in like a vampire, or..?”

Joel shot you a dark look. “Funny.”

And then he was stepping over the threshold, and you were shutting the door behind him.

Your building had originally been a two-story house, but it had been modified so that the first and second floors were now two separate apartments. Some might call it small, but you preferred to think of it as cozy. It was the perfect size for your one person.

Joel’s wide shoulders seemed to fill the room.

He turned in a slow circle, observing everything. The extensive spice rack hanging over the pantry door. The lantern string lights stretching around the living room. The plant with long green arms splaying crazily out of its pot on the windowsill.

All the things that made you you. He ran those otherworldly eyes over all of it, taking it in- taking you in. His glance flickered toward the half-open door at the back- your bedroom- before returning. 

The silence gnawed at you. “So what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doin’? We have a deal, remember? Three meetings?”

He didn’t use the word date this time.

“I mean…why are you at my house?”

“Didn’t know you were home.” Joel smirked. “I pop up wherever you are. Wouldn’ta known where you lived otherwise.”

You sighed.

“Nice little place you got here…Kitten.”

The way he purred Ruby’s nickname sent goosebumps racing down your neck. You whipped your head toward him, glaring uncertainly.

Joel chuckled. “Been meanin’ to ask about that. Plain forgot by the end of our last meeting.”

You set your jaw. “By the end of our last date, you mean?” you said sweetly.

His mouth flattened. He held your gaze until you looked away.

“It’s not that exciting of a story.” You moved around as you spoke, setting your things in their usual places. “Um, do you want a drink or anything? I don’t have any whiskey, but I have other stuff, water, uh..”

“I’m-”

Joel cut off mid-sentence. You turned, and your brow furrowed. He’d gone rigid, his eyes wide and focused intensely on nothing, as if listening to a distant sound.

“...Joel?”

He blinked rapidly. “I gotta go. But I’ll be back.” His yellow eyes flashed to you with renewed clarity, and he pointed a warning finger. “This meeting ain’t over until I hear that story.”

Your vision warped strangely, like the affect of a heat shimmer, but magnified a hundred times. When you could see clearly again, Joel was gone. The bitter scent of scorched earth hung in the air.

“What the fuck?”

--

Three days had passed since Joel’s disappearance. Your bed was as welcoming on the third day as it had been on the previous two, but its comfort did little to alleviate your confusion. The house’s every little creak and sigh made you jump, thinking that it might be Joel appearing. You wondered, yet again, what on earth had pulled him away so abruptly before, and if he’d meant what he said- that when he came back, it would still be your second meeting, not your third.

A new book managed to quell your restless thoughts. You read until slightly too late- it couldn’t be helped- and yawned as you turned off your lamp. Sleep tugged you down…

Something thumped to the floor of the room. A heavy something. Your eyes flew open. Fear spiked through you at the shadow in the doorway- the large, human-shaped shadow.

But was the shape…familiar? A smoky scent tickled your nose. It couldn’t be. With a trembling hand, you reached for the lamp.

It was. Like a great, shadowy tree had suddenly sprouted in your room, Joel stood blinking in the light.

You sucked in air, ready to berate him for scaring the shit out of you- appearing in your bedroom in the middle of the night!- but something stopped you.

His eyes were bleary, their amber glint dull. Heavy, bruise-colored bags hung beneath them. His clothes looked unkempt, and his normally neat swoops of hair were disheveled and drooping. 

You swung your feet to the floor. “Joel?”

It took visible effort for him to focus. “Kitten,” he murmured. His gaze slid around the room like mercury in a glass, seeing but not really registering anything. The only thing that finally seemed to snag his attention was the beanbag chair beside your desk. It was adult-sized and teardrop-shaped, sitting upright in a mellow shade of teal. Joel swayed a step forward. 

“What are you…are you okay?” You stood, though you were unsure how you’d be able to help if he did something like collapse. 

“Sure I am. Just need to rest a second.” His words were heavy and blurred together. He made his way toward the beanbag with an exaggeratedly slow, squinty-eyed focus. He folded himself to the floor, the cushion ballooning beneath his weight. His head lolled against the upright back.

Your mouth hung open. “You can’t…sleep here..?” 

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face. “But if I’m here, I’m working.” The end of his sentence was split by an enormous yawn. “Won’t be bothered if I’m workin’,” he muttered. His whole body seemed to deflate.

A heartbeat later, a muffled snore rose from the beanbag. 

You stared in utter bewilderment at the unconscious demon on your floor. His body looked comically large spilling out of the beanbag chair; his legs stretched nearly halfway across the room. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? Sleep, while a representative of the devil sat not six feet from you?

You hesitated. Joel hadn’t given any indication that he wanted to harm you. It would be against his best interests, even, since then he definitely wouldn’t get a bargain at the end of your meetings. 

Even asleep, the furrows on his forehead haven’t relaxed. You laid back down, resolving to just…keep your eyes open…

--

You woke with a gasp. 

Your lamp was still on, your body was intact, and Joel…

Joel was asleep in your beanbag chair.

In the daylight he looked even worse. His clothes dusty and wrinkled, the lines on his face carved deeper than normal. He looked tired even while sleeping. 

And he was in your room.

The soft click of the lamp’s switch made you cringe. You didn’t dare make any greater noise or movement- there was no telling how he’d react to being woken suddenly in a strange place. 

Damn, you kind of had to pee, though. Surely you could tiptoe in and out of the room for that without waking him..?

Twin golden slits appeared- Joel’s eyes opened.

He sat straight up, his gaze darting all around. It found you, which seemed to dredge up the relevant memories, because after a tense moment of staring, he slumped back into beanbag. The alarm faded from his features. 

“Good morning,” you said cautiously.

Joel grunted. “Kitten.” His voice was a gravelly rasp. 

“Do you…remember coming here last night?”

His gaze flickered as he sifted through his memory. “Sorta.”

Words failed you. You wanted to ask him what the fuck happened, and also if he was okay or injured or anything, but you also didn’t want to provoke him. You didn’t know what his deal was- one-night stand etiquette hardly applied to this.

Joel pushed himself to his feet with a stiff slowness, like a toy without enough moving joints. “Well, I’ll get outta your hair. Thanks for lettin’ me crash here.”

“Wait!” You stood hastily. “Um- like, are you okay? Do you..need anything, like- breakfast, or…” 

He listened to your stuttering half-turned for the door. When you trailed off, Joel faced you again. His eyes were low candle flames, wavering as they dipped to your pajama shorts, but his face didn’t lose its suspicion. “What kind of breakfast?”

--

As soon as you said ‘coffee’, Joel had lit up.

Turned out he liked coffee almost as much as whiskey. But it was “harder to come by”, apparently. He hadn’t elaborated on that. Joel still looked kind of foggy, like all that was propelling him was the promise of breakfast food (or maybe the coffee), but you were betting on him perking up once he had some fuel in him. 

Joel seemed pleased by your choice of diner and its familiar, timeless fare. Waffles and pancakes, eggs and bacon…and most importantly, unlimited coffee. Holding a mug beneath his nose, he inhaled deeply; then sighed it out, looking more serene than you had ever seen him. 

Amused, you sipped your own coffee. It wasn’t anything to write home about- for that, you’d have taken him to Blackhammer, your favorite cafe- but you’d figured the food and atmosphere here would be more pertinent today. 

You waited until he’d inhaled half of his ‘Hungry Man Special’ to bring it up. “So…can I ask what happened?”

Joel froze mid-chew. He swallowed, then cleared his throat. “When I was last here, I got…called into the office, so to speak. There was some big ruckus, needed all hands on deck. That’s why I couldn’t come back for a few days. I got away by saying I had a deal in the works, couldn’t let it disappear. Probably shouldn’t have,” he muttered, his face darkening. “Could come back to bite me in the ass.” He shoveled more sunny-side-up eggs and sausage into his mouth.

“But why did you look so…you fell asleep on my floor, Joel.”

He shrugged.  “Life of a demon.” His smile was as bitter as the diner’s black coffee. He’d pulled some magic trick in your bathroom before leaving, so he looked physically refreshed- unwrinkled clothes, gray hair tidied- but exhaustion lurked in the lines around his eyes.

“Did you mean it when you said that our meeting wasn’t over? This is still our second meeting?”

“I’m a demon of my word- this meeting ain’t over ‘til I get that story, Kitten.” Joel’s spark seemed to have returned; he waggled his brows at you suggestively, his eyes flashing gold.

Your mouth twitched. You opened it to speak-

Joel cut you off. “But not now. I’m too tired to be able appreciate it.”

He kept his head bent to his plate. It took a moment for his meaning to land- but when Joel looked back up, you nodded.

--

Joel appeared fully back to his old self the next time you saw him, which was at the grocery store. It was utterly surreal to be grocery shopping with some kind of supernatural being by your side, but Joel strolled alongside your cart without any compunction, peering at the shelves and watching what you selected with avid interest. 

It was an insightful experience. You watched Joel ‘accidentally’ bump into one of the elementary school teachers in front of the strawberries and flirt until you thought the woman’s striped dress would melt right off her; he then followed you down the cereal aisle and made faces at a baby behind the father’s back. He shook his head at your selected brand of chili seasoning, examined every side of your container of matcha, and wrinkled his face in fascinated disgust at the range of Oreo flavors. 

All of it made you wonder. Joel never answered your question about how long he’d been a demon. He enjoyed Oreos, but didn’t know there were golden ones. He’d never seen an iPod Shuffle, but didn’t seem overly baffled by the capabilities of your smartphone. His speech sounded more or less modern. 

How old was Joel really? What would he think of your theory- that he’d become a demon like this because he’d sold his own soul?

--

The library’s busy hush was blissful. Peaceful yet thrumming with life and purpose, you always got your best work done here. Steam curled from the opening in your coffee cup, drifting past your laptop screen, barely registering in front of the lines of text rapidly appearing.

Somebody plunked a book down at the table space beside you. Your attention flickered. You’d be annoyed by the person in a minute, given the number of empty tables they could have chosen to sit at, but for now you typed on, determined to finish your train of thought.

You were about to glance over when someone’s mouth grazed your ear. “Working hard, kitten?”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from yelping.

“Would you stop sneaking up on me every time you appear!” You snapped your head around to hiss the words, but that just put you inches away from a pair of familiar golden eyes, and your head reared back on instinct. 

Joel straightened up, shrugging archly. “Not my fault you’re unobservant.”

You scoffed. “I’m not unobservant, I’m working. I can’t play with you today, I have a deadline.”

His eyes gleamed as he spotted your coffee cup. “What’s this? ‘Blackhammer’.” Joel picked it up to read the label. Before you could stop him, he stole a sip.

His face contorted in disgust. “Jesus, what the hell’d you do to this? Can’t even taste the coffee.”

Stifling laughter, you carefully took the cup back from him. “That’s because it’s a hazelnut latte, not regular coffee.”

Joel smacked his mouth exaggeratedly, giving the cup a suspicious look. “I’m not sure I trust this place after tasting that.”

“They do have nice coffee roasts, they just also have basic bitch drinks.”

“Basic- what?” Joel looked mildly appalled, your choice of vocabulary finally pulling his attention from the coffee.

Your amusement warred with your annoyance. The ubiquity of memes and the breadth and variety of new, ever-evolving slang was one of things Joel had approximately zero knowledge of, as you discovered at the grocery store, after he asked if an advertisement was using ‘slay’ as a reference to ‘that vampire slayer chick’. Normally you were happy to explain things, but today you were busy.

“It’s just a descriptor, it’s not really an insult…anymore.”

Joel didn’t look like he believed you. “You’re in a library; go look it up.” You gestured to the bank of computers. His mouth crinkled dubiously. 

You sighed. “Look, give me like, 30 minutes. You can brush up on Urban Dictionary, and then I’ll take you to Blackhammer.”

Joel straightened, adopting a unaffected expression. “Naw, don’t worry about it. You can take me tomorrow, when you’re not workin’. Later, kitten.”

--

It was a twenty minute walk from your house to Blackhammer, but despite Joel’s declaration that the rain would hold off, you definitely just felt a drop hit your nose.

The clouds were dark and the breeze mischievous- not unlike the conditions of your first meeting. A sideways glance caught Joel’s yellow eyes glimmering back at you, confirming that he was remembering it, too.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he strolled. “Did you make your deadline yesterday?” 

Keeping one eye on the sky, you told him a little about your work. Ten minutes later, undeniable dark spots started to speckle the sidewalk. Joel scoffed- but when the speckles started to become patches, he was right behind you as you scurried under the nearest awning.

The skies opened. Rain poured down like someone had opened a tap over a colander. Thunder rumbled, though half-heartedly, as if to say that it could be a storm, if it wanted to, but it didn’t feel like it today.

Joel lifted his hands to ward off your pointed look. “Now, listen-”

“You insisted-!”

But you were laughing, and his grumbling was good-natured, and you waited companionably under the awning. Several people more prepared than you walked past holding umbrellas. 

After another ten minutes or so, the rain lightened- but not so much that it couldn’t still be called a downpour. The wind had fallen still, and the clouds gave the impression of settling in for a good long soak.

You glanced at Joel. “I don’t suppose you could magic us up an umbrella.”

Joel smirked. “I can do better than that.”

To your astonishment, he walked right out into the downpour. Your mouth opened to protest, but when he turned around, it closed- he was as dry as the sidewalk had been twenty minutes ago. There were no speckles on his shirt, no droplets beading on his hair. He spread his hands, looking smug.

“How did you do that?”

“I wanted to stay dry. Granted my own wish.” 

He hadn’t mentioned he could do that during your conversation at lunch. “Huh.”

Joel beckoned. “Come on. Your turn.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you stepped out into the rain.

And promptly got soaked. Cold and wet splashed you as suddenly as if you'd been hit by a couple of water balloons. You leaped back under the awning, swiping water from your face. “What the fuck, Joel!”

The bastard was laughing. Joel was bent at the waist, clutching his middle, crowing at his own little prank.

He straightened, wiping his eyes. “You shoulda seen your face,” he hooted. 

It was difficult to stay mad when he was suddenly, startlingly pretty, this man- this demon- with the lines on his face creased in laughter and humor sparkling in his sulfur-yellow eyes.

You gave it a try nonetheless. “You said you wanted us to stay dry!”

Joel’s grin didn’t fully fade. “I said I wanted to stay dry. Never said anything about you.” His eyes, still shimmering, glance down your body, dripping like rain over the clinging patches on your shoulders and chest.

You couldn't look away from him. The rain hissed down around you, a silvery curtain preserving the moment, blurring out the rest of the world. 

Joel’s eyes were as warm as sunlight in the distance. He held out his hand. “Alright, come on. I owe you now. My payment’ll be keeping you dry this time.”

You stepped up to the border of wet and dry on the sidewalk. Your arm stretched over the line…and stayed dry. 

You placed your hand in Joel’s. He tugged you out into the rain, and though he released your hand, not a drop touched you.

--

Coffee culture, you suspected, had not been as advanced the last time Joel had been in a cafe. Luckily, the other reason Blackhammer was your favorite palace was the baristas- they were patient, not pretentious, and cheerfully explained the various brewing options to Joel until he was satisfied with his choice. Now he sat and watched his single-origin pour-over brew with forced patience, glancing over disdainfully as you added several brown sugar cubes to your own mug.

As soon as the last drop fell from the filter, Joel was on it. One sip, and his face transformed- he lit from within, chuckling in pure disbelief. He admitted without any arm-twisting that it was worth the wait.

“Can I ask you something?” You didn’t want to to ruin the comfortable atmosphere, but your theory couldn’t wait any longer. 

Joel lowered his mug. “Meeting number two’s big question, huh? Fire away.” He looked resigned, but not annoyed, which you took as encouragement.

“Three dates, three questions,” you reminded him cheekily.

Rolling his eyes, Joel gestured impatiently.

“When I asked you before, about how long you’ve been a demon…you didn’t answer.” You snuck a look at him, but he sat stone-faced. “Will you answer it now?”

Joel took a deep, slow breath. “I’ve been a demon…for somewhere around twenty years.”

He didn’t volunteer many details, and you didn’t ask for them. He made a deal to save his family, and, he said, he’d do it again. His brimstone eyes flashed. 

“I was too scared to try and pull anything clever,” he admitted. “But I’ve learned a trick or two since then.”

“So, who…owns your soul?”

The furrow in Joel’s brow deepened. “The demon who made the deal with me, I suppose. I’d have to check the contract,” he said sardonically.

You phrased your next question very carefully. “If he didn’t own your soul anymore, what would happen to you?”

The full weight of Joel’s attention fell on you, his face a mix of serious and suspicious. “Depends on what he did with it. He could toss it with the rest, and I’d die like everyone else. He could give it to another demon, and I’d stay the same. I guess, theoretically…” You hardly dared to breathe.

“He could give it back to me. Then…well, I dunno really. It’s not exactly common practice.” Another eye roll. “But theoretically, that could mean I’d be a normal human again.”

“Can a normal human own another human’s soul?” You spoke casually, easily, hoping Joel would think you were just musing aloud as the thoughts occurred to you.

“I think that’s generally a no-no, unless they have access to some powerful magic.”

His golden gaze was scorching, his unspoken questions louder than your unconvincing casualness.

But you said nothing more on the subject.

“If you’ve only been a demon for twenty years, then is this your actual age?” You nodded toward his appearance, letting your mouth curve and your eyes sparkle with implication.

Blinking, Joel glanced down at himself. “Thereabouts. I haven’t changed the way I look since I was, uh. Recruited.” His gaze strayed into the distance, clearly still distracted.

“Could you?” you ask curiously.

“Some do.” Joel pushed his mug away abruptly. “I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee.” Shoulders hunched pensively, Joel walked all the way out of the cafe before vanishing.

--

You still hadn’t explained the ‘kitten’ thing, and it was driving you a little bit crazy. 

It’s not that you wanted to end your meetings. It’s just that it felt like unfinished business; like it was keeping you on uncertain ground. Every time Joel used the nickname, it jolted you- was this the moment when he wanted you to explain it? Was he hinting that he wanted the meetings to end?

And the way he used it. He’s made it his own, really. Or at least, you hoped he saw it that way. Joel certainly didn’t use the same inflection as Ruby when he said it.

“Kitten.” You heard it in his teasing voice, low and rough as a lion’s purr, and you shivered. Only when he said it did it sound like you were in a novel of a certain genre…

Oh, no.

Oh, no, this was not a romance novel. You couldn’t be having a crush on a demon.

…But he wasn’t just a demon. He was Joel.

You didn’t even know if it was possible for the two of you to have a future. Particularly given that, as Joel said, another demon owned his soul. Come to think of it, who would own your soul if you sold it? It should be Joel, you reasoned, because he would be the one making the deal. Now there was something to consider…

--

Joel coalesced, and the moment he saw the plant on the windowsill, he smiled.

The smile vanished, however, at what he saw next: your body prone on the sofa, your face pale and taut.

You groaned, curling in on yourself. “You know how I enjoy your company, Joel, but I’m not really up for making deals today. Come back tomorrow, or later tonight if it’s really urgent.”

It should bother him that you’re so unmoved by his presence. That you’re so comfortable blithely shooing away a demon with power like his, so sure that your artless dismissal will result in his disappearance. 

Joel felt not a whisper of annoyance. Instead, as your face contorted in a clear grimace of pain, he felt…anxiety.

“What…what’s wrong?”

“What?” You opened your eyes, seeming confused that he was still there. “Nothing, just period pains. It’s normal.” Your legs shifted restlessly. “You could pass me that bottle of painkillers before you go, though, if you’re feeling generous.” You nodded past him, toward the kitchen table.

Joel didn’t move. “Or, I could…make it go away.” He didn’t shift, didn’t fidget. Didn’t make any expression at all as the offer left his mouth.

“Uh-huh. At what price?” You laughed weakly. “It’s fine, Joel. Happens every month.”

“No price. A gift, freely given.” Joel was kneeling beside you before he was even aware of moving.

You drew a startled breath. The motion pulled at the aching muscles in your abdomen, and your face tightened again.

A ferocious need snarled to life inside Joel. He hadn’t felt anything with this strength in years. It burned through him, demanding his attention, forging pathways he’d thought long-atrophied. It brought everything into sizzling clarity, like- like-

Like having a soul again.

Joel’s hand hovered over your belly, so close to touching you could feel the warmth of him. “Say yes,” he said.

There was something fierce in his tawny eyes, in the set of his mouth- something you didn’t dare interpret. You nodded.

Joel rested his hand on your abdomen- and the pain faded away. 

“Ohhhh.” Your whole body relaxed, and you released a great sigh. You gripped Joel’s wrist without thinking, keeping that sensation there. It was like a warmth, but also something else- not just the absence of pain, but the presence of pleasure, a sweet, honeyed glow emanating through your lower belly and into the rest of your body. 

Joel’s pinkie finger rested on a sliver of skin exposed by your top. The pleasure seemed sweetest there, the richest feeling originating from that tiny length of skin-to-skin contact. As the pain receded and your presence of mind returned, the concept of Joel’s skin on yours became all the more remarkable.

“Joel.” You looked up, intending to say more, but the look on his face stopped you. It was hard but satisfied, the ferocity of earlier gentled. His eyes were the same color, though- tawny-amber, like a mountain cat’s.

You swallowed. “Thank you.”

Joel nodded. He gently extracted his hand from your grip, and the loss of that feeling left a cold hollow. You made a tiny, involuntary sound.

Joel stood, wincing as his knees cracked. Maybe he hadn’t altered his outer or inner workings, like he’d said at Blackhammer. Knowing that his beauty was all-natural was strangely dizzying, overwhelming, and not something you needed to be fixating on right now…

“Get some rest, honey. This meeting ain’t over.”

Your mouth quirked even as your eyelids drooped. As you fell asleep in his presence for the second time, Joel allowed himself a small smile, and then vanished. 

--

“I told you this farmer’s market was good.” Your door unlocked without the slightest struggle; pleased, you made your way inside.

Joel closed the door behind him, satisfaction flickering across his face. He followed you to the kitchen table, watching you unload your purchases. “It was good, I just thought the Sunday one was better, is all.”

“Well, yeah, the weekend ones are always bigger. The Wednesday one is calmer, though…”

Joel had to concede that. The town’s Sunday market had been bustling, with crowds so thick they funneled like molasses, in a slow-moving stream. Once he got used to the noise and the sensation of being gently buffeted about, though, he’d started to enjoy himself. All the smells in the air and the range of goods on offer. Today’s market, though slightly smaller, had a more local feel- the vendors could actually hear each other across their stands, and called greetings and inquiries about lives and jobs.

Several enormous peaches now sat in a basket in the center of the table. With an expression of relish, you plucked one out and went to the sink to wash it. 

A question you asked several dates ago was turning slowly around and around in Joel’s mind. It had lodged in his thoughts the day you’d asked it, growing into a ponderous yet inescapable vortex that was now on the verge of sucking him in. He was usually reluctant to use his gift, but something had its teeth in him- something he didn’t care to examine too closely. You had asked for it…

Returning with your peach, you sent him a quizzical look. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

“Do you remember at our first meetin’, at lunch, when you asked me if I could show you the…’tempting’ that I can do?”

The hand holding the peach paused halfway to your mouth. “...Yes.”

“I could show you now, if you want.”

Your arm lowered. “Okay,” you agreed.

Joel held out his hand. You stared at him, bemused, until he nodded toward your uneaten snack. Nerves fizzed in his fingertips as your hand neared, as the downy skin of the peach met his palm. 

He held it up. The fruit was nearly as big as his fist, which was saying something. “You want this peach?”

“I did,” you replied, amused and intrigued.

Joel turned and made his way to the couch, sinking into one end. He waved the peach at you again. “How bad?”

Only slightly wary, you followed, sitting opposite him on the couch. “Not bad enough to fight you for it, if that’s what you mean.”

Joel shifted to face you. His attention burned, as unavoidable as a desert sun. Looking at you intently, he tilted his head. “What about now?”

All at once, the peach looked like the most delicious thing you’d ever seen. It seemed to glow in the afternoon light, a fragment of summer itself in Joel’s hand. The rosy flesh was near to bursting with syrupy juice; all you could think about was how dry your throat felt.

Joel brought the peach to his lips. You were transfixed by the sight of his teeth piercing the skin; the wet sound of the flesh as it parted; his mouth and throat working as he slurped at the juice. 

Joel’s mouth glistened. “Do you want this peach?” He held it toward you, offering it like the precious gift it was.

You leaned forward, your knee touching Joel’s. The low rumble of his voice reverberated in your chest; your eyes darted back and forth between his face and the fruit. The peach’s fragrance, thick and floral, floated in the air. “Yes.”

“What would you trade for it?” Joel lifted the peach to his mouth again.

“Wait!” you cried. “Um-” You looked around wildly. In your frantic, clumsy haste to find something, you toppled forward.

You planted your hand on Joel’s chest to stop yourself. He sat unmovable, solid and warm. The woodsmoke scent of him threaded through the sweetness in the air. You lifted your eyes to his- his gorgeous eyes, golden like honey, like sunlight. His mouth was lush and wet as the fruit you’d all but forgotten about. Your interest in the peach was fleeting, a drop in the bucket compared to your desire for-

“Stop.”

The vitality of the moment faded. After a few fraught seconds, everything seemed slightly less…vibrant, somehow. Joel’s mouth was a flat line, his jaw tense. He didn’t move. 

Slow and cautious, you sat back, your brow furrowed. You remembered everything that had just happened, but the thought process behind your actions was less clear. 

You eyed the peach, wondering where its appeal had gone. “What did you…”

“I didn’t do anything. I asked if you wanted the peach. My powers did the rest.”

Joel’s powers. His aura of temptation, convincing you that what you wanted most in the world was perfectly within reach. Until…

Your face felt like it might burst into flames. “And then…”

“And then you got distracted,” Joel said shortly.

He set the peach on the coffee table and stood. “I’m late for something. I gotta go.” For once he left through the door, rather than vanishing in his uncanny way.

Your apartment felt strangely empty without him taking up so much space in it.  

Your cheeks blazed with heat beneath your palms. What just happened?

Joel said you’d gotten distracted. But his powers didn’t create desires, only amplified existing ones. Which meant…

You stood suddenly, overcome with the strength of your realization.

And Joel knew.

--

The ground Joel trod was uneven rock, but his mind was nowhere near his feet. It was back in your apartment, frozen in the exact moment he felt your desire shift, its focus change. 

To him.

It couldn’t be. But it was. He knew exactly what his powers could and couldn’t do, and they couldn’t put that fire in your eyes without a spark. 

Joel’s hands shook and his blood raced, propelling him toward the meeting place fast enough that he would no longer be late. He’d give himself away, but it didn’t matter. Tess was waiting.

--

A small crowd was already waiting at the crossing. You fell in at the back, using the wait to dig in your bag for chapstick. When the crowd started forward, you looked up.

Joel was standing on the other side.

You froze. People flowed around either side of you. In your indecision, the crossing light changed from green to red again.

It’s been 48 hours since you’ve seen Joel. Since his powers lifted the veil on your desire for him, bringing it into the light for you both to feel. 

Your eyes locked onto him. He stood as inscrutable as ever, hands in his pockets, his hair glinting silver in the light. He jerked his head in a summoning motion.

That was more like the irritating demon you knew. That familiar combination of annoyance and trepidation gave you the courage to cross the street.

Silently, he fell into step beside you. You walked slowly, both of you gathering your thoughts.

“That ice cream place you mentioned, when we went to lunch. Is it open now?”

It was so beyond anything you might have expected that you stopped, right in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“What?”

Joel paused a few steps later, turning his head, and then the rest of his body, back toward you. “The ice cream place. Is it open right now?” he repeated.

The gears of your mind turned stickily, slow to catch up. “Um…I think so.”

“Can we go?” Joel looked at you expectantly.

“Right now?”

Joel huffed in exasperation. “Yes, kitten. Right now. You feelin’ okay?”

“Sure, yeah, um…” Your thoughts juddered into motion again. “Just, it’s this way.” You pointed back the way you’d come. 

The line at the nearby ice cream place was long. You weren’t surprised. Neither was anyone else, it seemed. Families and couples waited without complaint, enjoying the balmy weather. You and Joel joined the end, still mostly silent. It wasn’t awkward, exactly. More…unsure.

“If I pay for this,” Joel finally said, “will you tell me the story behind your nickname?”

Oh. You didn’t answer for a long moment, your mind ticking. “Yes,” you said.

Joel nodded once, his face mostly stoic, and yet…not. You couldn’t put your finger on any specific emotion. Only that he didn't seem...satisfied, as if he wasn't quite convinced by his own course of action.

“Why do you even still have money?” you asked. 

Joel rolled his eyes. “To buy my victims ice cream, of course.” He gave you a sidelong glance, before stepping forward to peer at the menu.

You shook your head, looking away to hide a smile.

You expected to feel sad. Disappointed, about the idea that Joel wanted to end your second meeting and start your third and final one.

But you just couldn’t.

You couldn’t feel sad when Joel was still cracking lame jokes and suppressing smiles at your grudging laughter. You couldn’t feel worried that you fucked everything up when he handed you your ice cream cone with easy care, letting your fingers brush for a prolonged moment. You couldn’t fear that he wanted to end things when he asked if you had any plans for the local holiday next weekend; as if he paid attention, as if he cared. 

“Nah,” you answered. You didn’t notice Joel’s golden eyes flicker as you busily chased a trickle of melting ice cream with your tongue. “Well, I mean yes, but they’re the same as everyone else’s. Go out, get drunk, have a good time.”

“Where’s your favorite place?”

“What, to go out? The Chameleon, probably.” Your eyes closed to savor your ice cream.

The Chameleon was a place you’ve mentioned before. It was sort of a bar and a club stuck together, but the setup worked for everyone- especially the bar, whose patrons only needed to head into the back to ramp up their night out. You'd said the 'vibes' there were always good, which Joel thought sounded a bit retro, but which you assured him was currently modern slang again.

“Any good times planned?”

You sent Joel a curious glance. “Some, for sure, but they’re more open-ended plans.”

Joel looked away, across the lot full of picnic tables and families with their sweet treats, and concentrated on his cone. The height of his ice cream swirl steadily shrank, until finally it was level with the top of the cone. “So,” he said. “Kitten.”

You froze, a mouthful of ice cream half-melted on your tongue. You swallowed quickly, shivering as the cold caught in your throat. “Kitten,” you agreed.

The memory made you smile. Nostalgia tangled with a twinge of inevitable sadness as you finally told the story that had held the end at bay for so long.

“I was hired at Ruby’s right before Halloween. Normally Ruby meets all the new hires herself, but she was away that year for some reason. So I didn’t meet her until the day of Halloween. I was wearing a headband with little cat ears on it- employees were allowed to dress up, but I’d only just started, so I didn’t wanna do anything crazy- so the headband was my only ‘costume’, but Ruby comes in and she looks at me and goes ‘Well, who’s this little kitten?’”

Joel could hear it in Ruby’s exact tone. You laughed, shaking your head, and continued. “She just called me ‘kitten’ for the rest of the night- for the rest of the week. She did eventually learn my name, but it was too late by that point. Everyone else there started calling me 'kitten', too, and it just stuck

You shrugged, darting a glance at Joel. “I told you it wasn’t that exciting.”

“Maybe.” Waffle cone crunched between his teeth. “You mind that I use it?”

You looked up in surprise. “No.”

Joel’s eyes were bright, the yellow as defiant as dandelions. He popped the end of the cone in his mouth with relish and sucked the ice cream off his fingers. “Good,” he said. “Kitten.”

---

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist

[itsrlymine]

hello, how are you doing ?

can i be your 🪼anon ?

i have been so lost about what it means to "just decide" or to "live in the end" but your posts and answers put it in perspective for me, especially when someone accused you of being rude and you said that you don't sugarcoat because you also talk to yourself and rectify yourself this way.

i made a list and i affirmed, i love to affirm and it helps keep my thoughts in check as well but that aside, a part of me was holding onto "if it doesn't work, maybe affirming would work" too much

after seeing multiple posts, i have been doing my best to keep everything in check and everytime i think negatively or against my "desires", i just re-direct my thoughts and re-affirm or pep talk in my head.

yesterday, i wanted my father to bring back some plantains (for context, that man is just a stranger in the house, we are cordial) but long story short, i kept telling myself he will and he came back with nothing but i still kept on telling myself "oh please, he's going to bring it back later" and he came back later with the biggest plate of plantains ever like (?). that man have never brought anything for me

that aside, i have a list of desires from dream body to revising passing my bachelor and having my diploma that i missed two years ago (by 0,50 points). i have been so depressed ever since but now that i finally got it and understand manifestation at its peak, i just know i got it.

hello 🪼! i'm doing well and you clearly are too!! I need to get some more plantain wtfff. this is so amazing to hear!! being present and deciding how things will go regardless of what you "see" brings you exactly what you want to see!!!! You do have exactly what you want!!! You now having your diploma is the same way that you now have all them plantains. You just decided. There were definitely times where it felt difficult or I felt down but I had to realized that

my feelings don't matter

I still have whatever i want and the 3d is going to show my proof of that!!!

I'm so happy you had this realization and you get "everything" else you want the same exact way. Love you babes!!!

[kingsonne-zedecks]

So I'm trying something new with my writing. Which is to not not do it. Shocking I know, but I get so caught up on wanting to do things right and "normal" writing processes that I end up not actually writing anything. So instead I'm going to share my ideas for this story in a freeform brainstorm post. Because sharing my ideas makes me happy, and hearing peoples responses to my ideas makes it easier to actually write. Who knows if this will actually help me write more structured story? Not me, but it's worth a shot and isn't worse than not writing anything. Plot outline under the cut

So here's what I'm thinking with this story.

Context: This whole deal is shit-fucked from the start. The new Makiel and a few of the Court of Seven have motives to break up the Reaper division now that the major emergency is handled. There is a desire to return to the status quo, there is a desire to poach Ozriel's Reapers, and Makiel desires to stamp his mark on the Way and assert his comparatively weak authority due to his junior status compared to the other Judges. Setting: Meet Iteration 2365: Pact This iteration is super doomed and Makiel knows it, and the reason is something that Lindon will find out. Essentially, two major Fiends were able to secret themselves away in the foundations of the iteration from its beginning, where they hid away from Abidan discovery, limiting their disruption as much as possible, integrating themselves with the world and its power system as a way to anchor themselves to the Way and continue their feeding. Their existence is a mark of failure to the Hounds and the Ghosts. They have a vested interest in the Iteration just being Reaped and their mistake erased. Now, the existence of Fiends in the world has had dramatic effects on the Iteration. So, in the Willverse, iterations are created from fragments of other worlds, stitched together, which then grow and stabilize. In this case, the magic system of the world was corrupted before it could stabilize, and the Seal of Solomon was the way it was accomplished. Fiends/Demons tricked Solomon into a world shaping deal that was not in the best interest of humanity. At the time, Humanity was growing and becoming more established, and the system of Karma was strengthening and, as is the way of the Way, humanity was on a road to significant power. In the Willverse, everything trends towards humanity as it grows stronger, but in Pact, this is twisted, things are out of balance, and strong practitioners trend towards becoming more Other. With the Seal of Solomon, one of the effects was to limit the growth of the magic system to only the Awakened, "protecting" unaware humans from the actions of Others, but only kind of, while instead preventing Humanity as a whole from growing stronger. The other effect of the Seal was to bind the Fiends into the magic system of the World, stabilizing them somewhat so they did not need to consume the entire iteration to take advantage of its connection to the Way. The Plot:

So I don't know exactly when Lindon meets up with Blake and Rose, or how much he's figured out or done by then. One idea is that he makes himself some sort of Karmic Compass and uses it to eliminate "monsters" both human and Other that are high in Karmic Debt in order to rapidly grow his own Points Karma. His compass ends up bringing him to Jacob's Bell, where he meets Blake and comes to terms with the fact that despite killing Blake being a net positive Karma wise, it doesn't mesh with his vibes and goals. He has his own Suriel moment of "this is the sort of person the Abidan is supposed to protect," Anyway, magic. Demesne: Lindon makes a backpack into his demesne. A highly weak demesne due to it's size, but a good tradeoff for Lindon as he can't really afford to get locked down into one location as he intends to travel the world until he can figure out how to save it from within. It doesn't grant much power, but does end up growing in internal size like a little pseudo-void key. It also draws in a couple small spirits that like the space, sage of tiny pets style. It also serves to define him in the eyes of magic as a traveler who won't be staying long. Implement: Hammer. Obviously. Implement of creation and destruction, of rebuilding. Familiar: Lindon will debate this a little bit, but feels a little odd about taking a familiar given Little Blue, Dross, and Orthos. I don't think I'd have him end up actually finding a familiar before the end. Path/School: I found one in the PactDice docs that is essentially the Soulsmithing route of Pact. Which is perfect for Lindon, he finds monsters, breaks them, and turns them into something that can be used for good. Back to the Plot:

So Lindon meets up with Blake and Rose, he ingratiates himself with them a little bit. He's pretty free with soul oaths on things he's confident in himself on, so he doesn't really worry about being forsworn from attacking them after he promises to help. Rose still doesn't trust him, but that's Rose and to be expected.

Lindon reads more about magic from their library and starts to put together the fact that something is deeply wrong with the world. Everything he learns about magic implies that Pact should have a level of Ascendents on par with Cradle. The magic system is highly compatible with Way magic and the more a Practitioner refines themselves and their magic in the eyes of the world, the closer they should align with the Pact equivalent of Icons and begin to qualify for ascension. Except no one has ever ascended from this world. He starts to get a little suspicious about the Seal too. I don't have much in way of how things go until they get to Ur for the first time, but at that fight, Lindon realizes that Ur is fiendish and a big fucking deal. He chooses to fail his mission and save the world, this is straight up default back to normal Reaper operations. So he goes to release his authority and gets Ur'd, his connections severed, and drops into the Drains, leaving his Marble/Shroud/Power behind. Next part is a little foggy. I'm not sure when I want Bogeyman!Lindon to return. If Rose is going to summon him, if he's going to meet up with Blake in the Drains, or if he's going to be on his own until the story reaches the climax and the Pact Crew enters the Library and he crawls out with them.

What I do know is that the Drains are going to get a little indigestion trying to break him down. Lindon is aware of the Fiendish nature of the Abyss now, and knows it will succeed if given enough time. They are a high enough tier Fiend they could break down even a full strength Abidan, let alone a veiled one. His only saving grace is that his Origin his hidden in his veil and his connection to that is severed according to the rules of Pact, but not according to the rules of the Way. And since the Fiends are also partially bound to the rules of Pact, they can't destroy him entirely. So Lindon's going to look pretty rough though, and is essentially going to get broken down into the Hungry Ghost Bogeyman. When Lindon gets visions of the surface he's going to see things like Rose trying to figure out how to crack his marble for power or otherwise use it to her advantage. They can sense its something big under the surface, but can't crack it. During the final battle for Jacob's Bell, the Barber will get his hands on it at least once. Ooh, perhaps Rose will trade it to Johannes for something prior to Johannes!Barber. Anyway, during the final battle, either Lindon gets his marble back, or maybe tricks the barber into cutting it open, and Abidan Lindon is Back Baby. Epic mop up scene as Lindon trashes the Barber hardcore and starts burning the Abyss to ash using Void Dragon's Dance. Story clean up involves Lindon fusing his implement hammer into Genesis, incorporating his Pact magic into his ascended magic and then shattering the metaphysical Seal of Solomon, restoring the natural order of Pact. He mentions that he's only and X many star Phoenix but that he can handle a decent amount of restoration, and is able to restore Blake and Rose back together along with the bulk of Blake's friend's memories of him. In this house we canon Trans!Blake, who has many feelings about being whole again, after having been literally split in two, and is going to need some serious therapy for dealing with this level of gender identity crisis on top of all the normal therapy for the end of the world and demons and magic shit. Eithan, Yerin, and Dross show up to help wipe up the Fiends.

Oh, and Alexis doesn't die/bogeyman because fuck that. Happy endings for all.

The Reaper's Pact

Lindon floated in the vivid blue of the Way and brooded. He'd deny it if called out—blame it on his overly severe face and claim to be merely contemplating. Yerin wouldn't have let him get away with it, nor would Dross, but they weren't with him now, and so he brooded. 

When he had first ascended to the Heavens they had been a tapestry of chaos. The Vroshir Incursion had devastated Abidan defenses and laid bare the cracks in their organization. 10,000 words had once been under Abidan protection, with 1,000 fully integrated into their control. 

They'd proven capable of protecting only a fraction of that number. 

The War in the Heavens had cost lives on a scale that had been nearly unfathomable, and with each life lost, the fabric of the Way had weakened. It was in the aftermath of such destruction that the Reaper Division had been born. Lindon and his friends had plunged headfirst into iteration after iteration, pulling them back from the edge of destruction with all their strength and will. Year by year they worked, and slowly but surely, the missions became less desperate—the stability less fragile. Eventually, every world within the emergency jurisdiction of the Reapers was either saved or eliminated. 

Lindon felt the pain of those they could not save, the ones who had passed their tipping point while they were busy elsewhere, stretched too thin to address everywhere in need. In some ways the others were worse. Worlds that should have been saved—worlds they had saved, but that had, for some reason, failed to settle into a new Fate. Even the Court of Seven could not resolve their debate regarding where the blame lied. Most agreed that the actions of the Reapers in these Iterations introduced too much chaos for the worlds to handle. 

Whatever the cause, these Iterations never rejoined the stream of Fate and lost their connection to the Way. Eithan had been required to eliminate them before their drift caused them to crash into healthy iterations. None of them handled these well; without the ability to view Fate, they could only guess at what they had done wrong—at what they could have done differently.

Of the 10,000 worlds of the Abidan, the combined efforts of each Division had recovered 6,823. The rest were either gone, in the hands of the Vroshir, or otherwise beyond the reach of the newer, more cautious Abidan. 

That's when Eithan, with all his usual showmanship, revealed his true plans for the Reaper Division, a dream made possible by none other than the Mad King himself. A way for the Reapers to save iterations from themselves before they reached the brink, and without the risks of violating fate. A plan that Eithan himself had attempted on Cradle. 

Which brought Lindon to the Iteration he was brooding over, #2365. It was corrupted by at least one influence that would eventually lead to its death, but that death was far enough distant as to not yet be written firmly in the stands of fate, and so it could be changed, and if it was changed from within, it would theoretically shift to its new fate without any danger of failure. 

Lindon held a black marble to his lips. 

“Apply restraints and seal authority. Authorization eight-zero-zero-two.”

Yerin still teased him that Eithan had made her the first Reaper rather than him, but the taunts had never stung. They both knew that she would be the one to replace him one day. Hopefully not for a long time though.

Lindon felt a spasm of pain as he thought of his wife. Eithan had spent close to seventeen years on Cradle in his attempt to raise up a team that could solve the Hunger and Monarch problem from within. He'd been prepared to spend forty, and Lindon had to be just as committed to the Fate of this world. 

He did think it was an easier thing for Ozriel to have undertaken, as lonely as he had been. He'd not had a wife and child he was leaving behind. Well—Lirin might be a little put out at being referred to as a child given that he'd been a full-fledged Reaper himself for years now, but immortality had a strange effect on the perception of time. Eithan assured him that once he hit his first millennium a mere 40 years would seem like nothing at all.

Lindon wasn't planning on taking that long. 

With the seal activated, the clock had truly started, and Lindon couldn’t delay any further; he veiled his rapidly dwindling power and slipped into the Iteration. He wrapped himself in illusions as he drifted down over the blue green sphere of the world. It was a fairly standard human inhabited planet, but Sector Control had informed him that access to its energy system was limited to a select few, and the vast majority of the world wasn't aware of it at all. A man seen descending from the sky here would have far greater impact on the fate of the iteration than on Suriel's appearance on Cradle. 

As he dropped, he was feeding everything that he was into the marble. The powers he had collected after his ascension went first, and they were the easiest to let go. His Authority and the power of the Dreadgods were harder. For the first time in decades he actually had to struggle against his arm as it resisted what felt entirely too much like being consumed—the Hunger they shared rebelling in the face of giving up power. 

The marble was giving as much as it took though, and wisps of gray fabric drifted from its surface to wrap around him—around his soul. This Origin Shroud was nothing compared to the one that had hidden Eithan from the eyes of Judges, but it was sufficiently strong to hide his own Origin from this world. 

He picked up the pace of his descent as the marble began eating into the power he’d gained as a Lord, greedily drinking up his madra and soulfire. If he hadn’t reached the surface by the time that was finished he’d find his mission ending with an abrupt impact with the ground. He stumbled as he landed in a clearing outside of a small village, his body failing him as the effects of its rebirth in soulfire were sealed away. 

The sealing was accelerating, and Lindon could barely sense his own spirit beneath the ever thickening shroud. The loss of his Bloodforged body sent him to his knees and he almost wished he couldn’t sense what was coming next; madra itself was as incompatible with this world as it was fundamental to Cradle. Uncaring of his wishes, the threads of the Shroud reached his cores only moments later and Lindon world faded to black.

When he came to, he jumped to his feet, slightly surprised at the ease of movement even in this weakened form. It made a certain sense, this planet was significantly smaller than Cradle, and even without his madra enforcing him Lindon felt… strong. The shroud hadn’t left him with anything beyond the limits of this world, but his physique would at least be an asset still. 

As he continued to take stock of his body he was surprised at the sight of an intricate tattoo in white ink that he found covering a now fully human right arm. He took a strange degree of comfort in the compromise the Shroud had found when hiding this clearly inhuman aspect of his person, leaving him a permanent reminder of who he was for as long as he remained in this world. 

He completed his scan of his body and instinctively moved to turn that his vision inward, to see for himself the void where his cores should be—and came up short when he couldn't. The comfort he had drawn from his arm fled from him as the reality of this undertaking sunk in. Even as an Unsouled he had been capable of visualizing his meager core and madra, but now it was like trying to see out of his elbow. He was blind and powerless in a way he had never been before. 

Lindon sat in that feeling for only a moment before he gathered himself, determination settling over him. He had mastered the energy systems of half a dozen ascended Iterations. He’d started from the bottom on Cradle as well, and it wouldn’t stop him here either. He tucked the black marble into the pockets of the clothing that had replaced his glossy black armor and pulled a book out of the leather pack he had brought—which had surprisingly survived the shroud unchanged.

Essentials

If Lindon had had his way he and Dross would have poured over every resource they could have found from this world before he ever stepped foot on its surface. He’d not been given that choice. Sector Control had only allowed him this single book, and only upon his arrival. Lindon expected that one of the other Judges was putting their finger on the scale, hoping for his failure and the end of the Reapers. It was up to him to prove them wrong.

He opened the book, and began to read.

Oh Lindon, I'm sure that you'll be able to master the magic of this world and fight off those pesky threats without issue. No Chaos Fiends here, no sir.

[pink-vulpix]

.

[bigfatbreak]

Hello I love your art!!! I was reading through your changeling au and Felix mentions that fae are creatures of mirth. They literally need attention to survive. But what kind of attention? I guess I'm wondering because Adrien has been in the public eye for a while now, but has been personally neglected for even longer. What does that mean for him? Is he starving? Is he in danger of dying? Does he even know it? (I assume not given he doesn't even know he's Fae).

If he is starving / in danger of starving who is the first to realize this?

it depends on the mirth, on the attention, on what it is they seek. Without making things too complicated - I don't like to define everything into neat little boxes after all, there's fun in nuance - Felix is just explaining from his experience, the Fae he was with tended to be "entertained" by certain aspects of their playing, which was the mirth that kept them relevant. Relevancy more than anything is really what keeps their wheels greased.

In Adrien's case though, the reason he's cloying for so many names and to have so many thralls and attendants is because he SHOULD be a more social creature and has been kept woefully alone. He is kinda starving in the way a fae starves - he's relevant, but only in an image his father constructs OF him, which means it isn't REALLY him - and he has no one to play with. No friends, no lovers, and no rivals, makes a very sad fae

[lemongogo]

can i ask.how u guys practice ur creativity <3 how u practice ur imagination or like.. how u experiment with ur art, how u come to ideas and how u develop them.<3 pretty please <3

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au

this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂

i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl

[coyoxxtl]

tumblr centrist liberals stop acting like voting is the most influential and important political activity you can participate in challenge

[isthehorsevideocute]

If I see one more walk/trot adult ammy fly around the country/go overseas to go horse shopping I'm going to have a fucking aneurysm.....

[softshuji]

y'know it's a night when hal sits and eats cereal in the dark room at 1.30am.

[acaesic]

i really want to finish all my unfinished art before i turn 15 but im so burnt out rn 😭 </3

[jin-zixun]

the desire to write glee s6 au fic

vs

the desire to not watch glee s6 which would be an implicit requirement to properly writing s6 au fic

[maelancoli]

Writing Intimacy

i often see writers sharing a sentiment of struggling with writing kiss scenes which honestly bleeds into other portrayals of physical intimacy. i see it a lot in modernized styles of writing popularized by the recent trend in publishing to encourage short, choppy sentences and few adverbs, even less descriptive language. this makes intimacy come across awkward, like someone writing a script or clumsy recounting of events rather than a beautiful paragraph of human connection.

or just plane horniness. but hey, horny doesn't have to be mutually exclusive with poetic or sensual.

shallow example: they kissed desperately, tongues swirling and she moaned. it made her feel warm inside.

in depth example: she reached for the other woman slowly and with a small measure of uncertainty. the moment her fingers brushed the sharp, soft jaw of her companion, eliza's hesitance slid away. the first kiss was gentle when she finally closed the distance between them. she pressed her lips lightly to gabriella's in silent exploration. a tender question. gabriella answered by meeting her kiss with a firmer one of her own. eliza felt the woman's fingers curling into her umber hair, fingernails scraping along her scalp. everything inside eliza relaxed and the nervousness uncoiled from her gut. a warm buzz of energy sunk through her flesh down to the very core of her soul. this was right. this was always where she needed to be.

the first complaint i see regards discomfort in writing a kiss, feeling like one is intruding on the characters. the only way to get around this is to practice. anything that makes you uncomfortable in writing is something you should explore. writing is at its best when we are pushing the envelope of our own comfort zones. if it feels cringy, if it feels too intimate, too weird, too intrusive, good. do it anyway! try different styles, practice it, think about which parts of it make you balk the most and then explore that, dissect it and dive into getting comfortable with the portrayal of human connection.

of course the biggest part comes to not knowing what to say other than "they kissed" or, of course, the tried and true "their lips crashed and their tongues battled for dominance" 😐. so this is my best advice: think beyond the mouth. okay, we know their mouths are mashing. but what are their hands doing? are they touching one another's hair? are they scratching or gripping desperately at one another? are they gliding their hands along each other's body or are they wrapping their arms tightly to hold each other close? do they sigh? do they groan? do they relax? do they tense? are they comfortable with each other or giddy and uncertain? is it a relief, or is it bringing more questions? is it building tension or finally breaking it?

get descriptive with the emotions. how is it making the main character/pov holder feel? how are they carrying those emotions in their body? how do they feel the desire in their body? desire is not just felt below the belt. it's in the gut, it's in the chest, it's in the flushing of cheeks, the chills beneath the skin, the goosebumps over the surface of the flesh. everyone has different pleasure zones. a kiss might not always lead desire for overtly sexual touches. a kiss might lead to the desire for an embrace. a kiss might lead to the impulse to bite or lick at other areas. a kiss could awaken desire to be caressed or caress the neck, the shoulder, the back, the arms etc. describe that desire, show those impulses of pleasure and affection.

of course there is the tactile. what does the love interest taste like? what do they smell like? how do they kiss? rough and greedy? slow and sensual? explorative and hesitant? expertly or clumsily? how does it feel to be kissed by them? how does it feel to kiss them?

i.e. examine who these individuals are, what their motives and feelings are within that moment, who they are together, what it looks like when these two individuals come together. a kiss is not about the mouth. it's about opening the door to vulnerability and desire in one's entire body and soul.

[dangerdykeblog]

“Darling, I can understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me about this, but please know that all I have ever wanted for you is to be happy.  Come to bed when you’re through.” Jack

Perhaps I’ll share that feeling with Anne and let’s just see how quickly she turns that anger in your direction. It won’t work. No? Why? Because I believe that somewhere, somehow, you have known she has wanted this… needed this for a very long time. I’m giving it to her. And now that she has it, it would be exceedingly difficult for her to let it go. This upsets you. This threatens you. I am sorry. There is nothing you can do about it.