#like yeah adam is clearly still alive

[sativariddle]

the walking dead au where mattheo fingers the reader to apologize for shooting her, making her feel so good before she shoots him back 🙂

𖦏 m.list ╱𖦏 the walking dead au

⌗ ┆ word count: 2k+

⌗ ┆ content: mentions of guns + getting shot, fingering and mattheo being pathetic, yay. if you don’t enjoy my content, there’s no need for you to stick around, i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with.

a/n: i love pilu so much, her and that fuck ass little smiley face that somehow makes everything she says feel awkward. enjoy, queen. read this if you haven’t already.

you were always stubborn, everyone knew that. even you admitted it sometimes, like it was just another one of your flaws you’d made peace with. but after the world fell apart, your stubbornness didn’t just survive. it evolved. when you said you wanted your gun back, it wasn’t a request. it was a line in the sand. you wouldn’t speak. you wouldn’t eat. you wouldn’t drink the medicine pansy kept trying to press into your hand. the painkillers sat untouched, the food left to gather dust. not until the weapon was back in your grip. not until you felt like you had control over something again.

“i’m done with her,” mattheo snarled, the clatter of the dented can hitting the wooden table beside pansy. “she’s fuckin’ irritating me.”

“just give her what she wants,” pansy said, reaching for the gun resting on the high counter. her fingers hovered over it for a moment before she picked it up, the metal heavy in her hand. “she needs to eat. she’s already lost too much blood.” the pain was clearly eating you alive, anyone could see it: your skin had taken on a grey tint. mattheo didn’t bother arguing this time. if getting your gun back was what it took to make you eat, then fine. whatever. he just wanted pansy off his damn back. he would’ve much rather been outside, hunting a squirrel or sitting in silence with a cigarette, but no. pansy had insisted that he be the one to keep an eye on you. make sure you didn’t bleed out or drop dead on the floor.

hadn’t he already done enough? he’d dug the bullet out of you with a knife that wasn’t nearly clean enough. he’d even stopped the bleeding, more or less. that should’ve been the end of it. but she had reminded him: he was also the one who nearly pulled the trigger in the first place. so yeah. maybe he owed you this much.

“here’s your shit,” mattheo muttered, stepping into the room. he dropped the rifle onto your lap carelessly, the cold metal landing against the blanket. a can of food clinked softly as he set it down on the crate beside your bed. “you got what you wanted. now eat.” your gaze dropped to the rifle, fingers brushing over the familiar shape, checking it instinctively: still yours, still intact.

that tiny pull at the corner of your mouth threatened to give you away, smug little smirk itching to break through, but you held it back. you liked when things went your way, when your stubbornness didn’t just hold the line, but bent the world around it. you’d played your part, waited it out, and now here it was. “i’m not hungry,” you said calmly, almost bored, as you set the rifle at the foot of the bed. mattheo let out a longgg, annoyed sigh, tilting his head back toward the ceiling. the gesture stretched his neck, drawing your eyes to the sharp line of his jaw, the shift of his adam’s apple as he swallowed back whatever curse word he wanted to throw your way. your thighs tensed at the sight. you looked away quickly, trying to smother the rush of thoughts that came, twirling in the corners of your mind. vicious, vicious thoughts. “not for food, anyway.”

that made mattheo look at you. those damn eyes: deep brown, like melted chocolate, met yours. it almost made you laugh. how could someone with eyes that stupidly beautiful, be the same blind asshole who’d pulled the trigger on you? “then what do you want?” he asked. a dangerous question: what do you want. as if the answer was simple. you bit the inside of your cheek, holding his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a quick reply. he was watching you now, waiting like whatever you said next might change something. you moved your hand slowly and patted the space beside you.

sit down. on the bed, your bed, closer. close enough to touch. mattheo looked confused, but he didn’t press further. he moved to sit at the edge of the bed on the right side. your eyes followed him, unable to look away. just his presence, so close, made your heart pound faster. it was insane how easily he affected you. you could practically feel the tension beneath your skin, being touch starved creeping up on you like a scream caught in your throat. fuck, you were dizzy with it. the want. the need.

“which hand?” you whisper. the questions blindsided mattheo. which hand?* what did that even mean? “what—” he started. “—which hand pulled the trigger? which hand shot me?” mattheo stared, trying to piece together your meaning, he wanted to ask why. why you needed to know. but you weren’t joking. the look in your eyes told him you wanted an answer, not a deflection. “my right hand,” mattheo said, the words slipping out. the moment he did, you reached for it. so gently that your fingers barely felt real, a breeze brushing against skin rather than touch. you lifted his hand, bringing it close to your face. he held his breath without meaning to, unsure of what you were about to do, only certain of one thing. he didn’t want to pull away.

soon after came the ‘mmcht’ sound, almost shy kisses as your lips met his middle finger. then the pointer. the thumb. the back of his hand. and finally, the center of his palm. each kiss was faint. you began to unfold his fingers one by one. your touch guided them until only his pointer and middle finger remained raised. “i’m assuming this was the finger,” you said, wiggling his pointer with a cheeky smile, “the one that pulled the trigger?” you looked up at him through your lashes, and mattheo couldn’t speak. he just watched you, like your gaze had reached inside his chest and taken hold of his vocal cords. “yeah,” he let out. “you trust me?” your voice was sweet, dripping with an innocence that made it impossible to tell if it was intentional or just how you sounded when you were turned on. either way, it shot straight through him.

he didn’t trust you, he’d known you for all of three hours, and in his experience, that was far too short a time to trust anyone. and the fact that he’d shot you? that made it even worse. you could be playing some game, holding all kinds of cards up your sleeve. but when did he ever listen to the warning bells in his mind? when had he ever said no? so, despite every logical part of him screaming to not give in, he nodded. you reached out, grabbing mattheo's pointer finger, the very one that had pulled the trigger, wrapping it gently around your own finger. you slowly brought his hand under the covers, the fabric rustling softly as you dragged his fingertip down your chest, tracing along your sternum and stomach. the heat of your pussy against the very tip of his finger nearly made him jump, lust coursing through him. every cell in his body cried at him to push forward, to please, but he bit his lip hard, fighting the urge.

you parted your thighs even further under the covers, his eyes lowering with an almost trance like way. he was completely captivated, lost in the sight before him. his mind seemed to have shut off, fingers ready and willing to be used however you pleased.

you pushed mattheo's fingertip past your folds, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you as your tight walls clenched around the digit. a high pitched, breathy gasp passed your teeth as his finger stroked your inner deepness. you released his hand, giving him full control. mattheo immediately added another finger, spreading you wider. the wet sound of your eager pussy greeting his fingers filled the room: each stroke made you feel more desperate. you whimpered, hips rising to meet his thrusts. the two fingers moved in and out of you, each retreat pulling out with a loud, wet slurp before sliding back in. he hooked his fingers upwards, hitting that candy sweet spot inside you that made your eyes roll back so far, all mattheo could see was the white. accidentally, his thumb brushed against your throbbing clit, and you jumped, a muffled 'mmmph!' tearing from your throat. he had unintentionally hit both your sweet spots at once, sending pulses of pleasure through your insides.

tiny little stars began to form at the corners of your vision. the look on your face was so hypnotizing that he sped up his pace, fingers turning into a blur as they worked in and out of you. out and in. “sorry,” mattheo murmured, but his words were barely hearable over the wet sounds of your arousal. thighs clamped down on his wrist, holding him in place as his fingers continued their dance inside you. “about your arm,” he went on, “swear on my life, i had no idea you were human.”

“and now?” you breathed, gasping a bit as he picked up the pace. “still think i’m a walker?” of course he didn’t anymore, but you were just talking nonsense; he was making you feel so good, you didn’t care about making sense. “definitely not. they don’t sound this desperate just from my fingers,” he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. you were sooo touch starved, strung out from stress, and now you had one of the finest men you’d seen in forever hand buried between your thighs, working his fingers like he knew your body better than you did. the thought alone had your spine arching off the bed, a gasp slipping past your lips as he curled his fingers just right.

“ugh—shit… shut the fuck up,” were the last words that left your lips before everything inside you tightened, heat coiling in your core. it washed through you, a wave so heavenly it stole your breath, and then you were coming, release spilling out of you and soaking the sheets beneath. the covers may have hidden the evidence, but the warmth on mttheo’s fingers gave everything away.

he slowly pulled his hand back, glancing at the mess before letting out a low chuckle under his breath. “using the same fingers that shot you to get yourself off?” he exhaled, almost in disbelief. you were insane. “very hot of you.” you rolled your eyes, letting your back collapse against the bed once more. your chest rose and fell heavily as you tried to catch your breath, the orgasm still pulsing through your veins. you knew you couldn’t just lay there forever, not with the mess you’d made. if someone walked in right now, you’d both be screwed in more ways than one. you began to push yourself up, body sensitive. as you leaned forward, mattheo’s eyes found yours, he watched you come closer, and for a moment, he seemed to forget everything else. to him, it looked like you were about to kiss him.

his lips parted slightly, and he leaned in without hesitation, closing his eyes. but the kiss never came. “SHIT!” his voice cracked through the room like a shot, eyes flying open as the pain in his leg hit him all at once. his hand shot down instinctively to his thigh, where the pain instantly turned severe. you had shot him. neat, and completely intentional. he looked at you with disbelieving eyes, mouth opening and closing like he couldn’t quite figure out which words to throw at you first.

“we’re even now,” you told sweetly, and leaned in again, not to shoot this time, but to plant a kiss gently on his cheek. you set your rifle down and reached for the can of food sitting nearby, popping the lid and grabbing the plastic spoon. scooping up a chunk of mushy vegetables, you popped it into your mouth with a hum of satisfaction, chewing slowly as if what was in front of you didn’t include a guy cursing you out while clutching a fresh bullet wound. mattheo’s jaw clenched. “oh, so now you’re fuckin’ hungry?”

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

Ranking the Yellowjackets from least to most unhinged/corrupt

I’m bored and I feel like we need to hold these characters accountable a bit more so I’m going to rank the main Yellowjackets characters by how many terrible things they’ve done, and I’m going to list these terrible things.

I’m not including the side characters in this list (like Melissa, Gen, Mari, etc.) because they’re all kind of at the same level and have committed the same sins.

TW: Mentions of SA

10. Javi and Laura Lee

These two are both in the most innocent ranking on this list because I can’t really think of a single thing either of them have done wrong. Laura Lee called her piano teacher a cunt I guess? Javi ran away and made his brother worried? Yeah, I’ve got nothing. These two are pure, sweet souls that didn’t deserve what happened to them.

9. Jackie

•Left Van on the plane to die

•Broke girl code by sleeping with Travis right after he and Nat broke up

•Kind of dubious consent with Travis being on drugs when they slept together (Jackie didn’t know that though) and her convincing him to sleep with her after he says he’s in love with Nat

Jackie’s crimes are really just being a teenage girl and becoming a nihilist after finding out about Shauna and Jeff.

8. Coach Ben

•Slapped Misty

•Lead on a teenage girl into thinking they had a romantic connection

•Most likely committed cannibalism (Steven Krueger said that Ben’s disgust during the Snackie scene was more about how savagely the girls were eating Jackie and not about the cannibalism itself, he likely snuck just a little Jackie meat to stay alive)

•(Allegedly) Burned down a cabin full of teenagers with the intention of killing them

7. Travis

•Made blatant misogynistic comments

•Pointed a loaded gun at Nat

•Pushed Javi to the ground

•Slept with Jackie when he was (kind of) still with Nat

•Committed cannibalism (including eating his own brother)

•Made offerings to “The Wilderness”

•Cheated on his girlfriend with Nat in the adult timeline? (according to Nat in her hypnosis scene)

Travis’ crimes were mostly out of his control and solely for survival. And being a sexist, moody teenage boy in the 90s.

6. Van

•Made offerings to "The Wilderness", one of Lottie's main followers

•Committed cannibalism

•Hunted down Nat with the intention of killing her

•Allowed Javi to drown so she could eat him

•Told Travis she does not regret letting Javi die and eating him

•Called off the psych team for Lottie knowing that it would likely result in one of their deaths (was clearly willing to reinstate the hunt, which resulted in Nat's death)

We haven’t fully gotten to know adult Van yet, but I have a feeling, with the cold/numb shift we see in Van after Javi’s death and her seemingly still being a follower of The Wilderness in the adult timeline, she will shoot up this list when Season 3 comes out and we learn more about her.

5. Lottie

•Was the first to commune with “The Wilderness” and introduced it to the others

•Made offerings to “The Wilderness”

•Was the first Antler Queen

•SA’ed Travis and hunted him down with the intention of killing him during Doomcoming

•Committed cannibalism

•Accidentally killed Travis

•Drained Travis’ bank account after his death

•Lead an ethically questionable cult in the adult timeline

•Kidnapped Natalie and handcuffed her to a bed

•Suggested that the girls should reinstate the hunt and sacrifice themselves to “The Wilderness” again in the adult timeline

•Hunted down Shauna with the intention of killing her

While Lottie did serve as the first Antler Queen, her reign was centered around (mostly) harmless worshipping rituals and she seems to have mostly good intentions. Notably, she was not involved in the first card draw/hunt and seemed to disapprove of it. She also was not involved in Adam’s murder coverup. However, she did spearhead the girls’ descent. And the SA, questionable involvement in Travis’ death, and her reinstatement of the hunt are hard to ignore.

4. Natalie

•Attempted to kill her father

•Faked Javi’s death

•Committed cannibalism

•Allowed Javi to die in her place

•Accepted the role of Antler Queen

•Committed insurance fraud

•Blackmailed her former sponsor

•Breaking and entering

•Attempted to shoot the blackmailer (Jeff)

•Manipulated Kevyn into giving her confidential police records

•Stabbed Lisa’s hand with a fork

•Helped Shauna cut up and bury Adam’s body

•Joined Lottie’s cult and encouraged the others to join as well

Nat is interesting because she’s often considered to be the moral compass of the group, but she’s done a lot of bad stuff! What sets her apart is the guilt and remorse she feels after these events.

I’m putting her just slightly below Tai because Nat was not involved in any of what happened during Doomcoming, she has not yet hunted a person unlike the others, and she was less at fault for what happened to Javi because she didn’t really have a choice. However, she had a real descent in Season 2. You can see something shift in her after Javi’s death, so I think we’re going to see a much darker side of Nat from now on. She accepted the role as leader of a group that just hunted and ate a human being, so I have a feeling she is going to move up on this list as we learn more about what happened in the Wilderness.

3. Taissa

•Accidentally broke Allie's leg

•Committed cannibalism (unconsciously the first time but intentionally the second time)

•Partially participated in hunting Travis during Doomcoming

•Hunted down Nat with the intention of killing her

•Allowed Javi to drown so that she could eat him

•Traumatized the fuck out of her son

•Killed Biscuit and made a shrine with his severed head

•Helped Shauna hide Adam's body

•Intentionally got into a car crash which almost killed her wife

•Cheated on her wife with Van

•Called off the psych team for Lottie (knowing this would mean the card draw would become a real hunt?) (idk her role in that is confusing)

Taissa is hard to place on this list because a lot of the bad things she does (eating Jackie, Biscuit, crashing the car) are "The Bad One" taking over. Ultimately I placed her here because of the dark potential of The Bad One and how little control Taissa has over this persona.

Taissa did consciously hunt Nat, eat Javi, and help cover up Adam's death. And she called off the psych team knowing this could result in someone getting killed (although I think that was more Van’s influence).

2. Shauna

•Slept with her best friend’s boyfriend (and got pregnant with his child)

•SA’ed Travis, hunted him down, and attempted to kill him during Doomcoming

•Was the first to commit cannibalism

•Encouraged the others to eat Jackie

•Beat Lottie within an inch of her life

•Hunted down Nat with the intention of killing her

•Allowed Javi to drown so she could eat him

•Butchered Javi’s body

•That scene in the pilot where she’s…doing things to herself while looking at her daughter’s underage boyfriend

•Had an affair with Adam behind Jeff’s back

•Pointed a gun at a car thief and told him she really wanted to kill him

•Killed Adam, cut up and hid his body, and lied to the police about it

Shauna seems like a sweet and unassuming house wife on the outside, but she is secretly an adrenaline junkie who loves quote on quote “peeling the skin off a human corpse.” She really, really wanted to kill that minivan stealer, like to a concerning degree. Shauna, of course, has her soft moments and cares about her teammates, but she has a secret dark side that can definitely be bad news for those around her. I have a feeling Shauna will maintain this spot high up on the list as we learn more about what transpired in the Wilderness as well as where her adult self goes from where she left off in Season 2.

1. Misty

•Broke the flight transmitter

•Attempted to SA Coach Ben

•Drugged Coach Ben without his consent

•Drugged the entire team without their consent

•Committed cannibalism

•Made offerings to the Wilderness

•Accidentally (but also kind of intentionally) killed Crystal

•Hunted down Nat with the intention of killing her

•Pulled Nat away when she was trying to save Javi

•Allowed Javi to drown so she could eat him

•Committed elder abuse

•Hijacked Nat’s car

•Planted secret cameras in Nat’s hotel room

•Arrested for breaking and entering

•Kidnapped, held captive, and killed Jessica Roberts

•Helped Shauna cover up Adam’s murder

•Accidentally killed Natalie (while intentionally trying to kill Lisa)

Do I even need to explain? Misty is terrifying and absolutely a sociopath. Also, she’s canonically a serial killer. This girl is absolutely the most unhinged on the show and will likely remain in the top spot as future seasons come out.

[signedkoko]

SPOILERS?? MAYBE

Wife!reader waiting for Alastor in his Radio tower after the final big battle, knowing he'd go there and waiting for him there, Scolding him and angry at him, Talking about how worried they were and how they saw everything. But then it turns fluffy at the end :3

Alastor X Reader [Romantic]

In which you lost track of him during the battle, so you wait in his tower hoping he made it. Reader is female.

The battle had been planned over the series of a day, everyone practicing and learning how to defend themselves

Being an overlord and promised watcher over the hotel, Alastor was of course given a tall order; he was to take care of Adam

While he acted as if it were nothing and swept it by as if it'd be another easy task, you weren't so confident in his abilities against such a powerful angel

Not that you didn't trust him, just that it's scary to think he'd be doing it all alone

Though you offered support, he outright refused it

" Can't have you in the way! You are just so distracting! "

Yeah right

As much as you wanted to protest, you knew he wouldn't budge on it

But as Adam parted the battle and Alastor was nowhere to be seen, you assumed the worst along with everyone else

He'd been killed so easily? Certainly not, would he really give up his life like that? Your anger boiled up in you as you fought, and it carried you past your limit until everything was rubble

While you had the chance, you quickly whisked away to his tower, which now lay broken in the soil, though still partially intact

You had to kick the door a few times before it finally broke open, having been blocked by some debris

You hoped to all gods that you'd see him in there, but it was as silent and empty as you dreaded

You figure Husk would have said something if he felt his chains come loose, though, so you crawled up into the chair which he normally sat to broadcast and waited

And waited

Until finally, your looped prayer was answered when he came limping through the hatch

You could tell he was panicking or overwhelmed; you weren't entirely sure what, but you scrambled towards him

" Alastor! You're okay- "

" Get away from me. "

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him with bewilderment

He'd never sounded like that, especially not towards you, it frustrated you beyond belief that he refused you at a time like this

" No, no! I thought you died out there! All because you thought you could handle things on your own when you clearly cannot! "

Hot tears welled in the corner of your eyes, the silence only intruded by creaking, and the sound of your hissing breaths

It took him a moment, but the overlord straightened himself out, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he soaked in your reply

It wasn't fair of him to say that to you, and you were right, but something in him felt so shaky; his smile felt more forced than ever; he felt as if his wings had been clipped

" Dearest, you know me better than anyone, but unfortunately, there are things I cannot tell you—even if I want to. "

You knew he was bound by someone and chained, and as he spoke with such a lost desperation, you couldn't help but cry harder as the guilt consumed you

" I'm just glad you're alive. "

While you stood with what felt like an infinite space between you, the crackle in the air started to come back to him, which followed with his arms reaching out to you

You found yourself burying yourself in them, clinging to his shirt until your knuckles strained, and you cried

With no one else around to witness it, he wrapped his arms around you, ensuring you were secure

He'd do whatever it took to find a way out, so he could promise you an eternity by his side

Author's Note - Finally got to your req 🖤 Its so lovely to see you in my inbox, Lilith!! Thank you for requesting 🥂

[zaebeecee]

The Radio Angel

by @fletchingbrilliant and ZaeBeeCee

In the immediate aftermath of an Extermination, Adam returns to Hell at the behest of the archangel Gabriel in order to retrieve one single human soul: the Radio Demon. All those in the Hazbin Hotel know is that Alastor is dead, unaware that the head of the exorcists had any agenda... or even that he was ever there. Ten years later, Angel Dust is nearly killed during another Extermination, only to be saved by an angel bearing almost every one of Alastor's features except his smile and, apparently, his memory. Determined to save Alastor, Angel Dust--and the rest of the Hotel residents--find themselves ready to challenge the highest ranks of Heaven. It's definitely not a good idea, but when has that ever stopped any of them?

Next Chapter Read on AO3

Chapter 01 •

“That was fuckin’ awful.”

Angel Dust leaned forward on the bar, one set of arms folded on the polished wood while a third hand held a glass of straight whiskey and a fourth hand held his head up. Everything hurt, and he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling it; even Vaggie was limping when she walked, and she would sooner kiss a Vee on television (with tongue) than show any level of physical weakness.

Exterminations had never been great. When they came, the option was to hide and hope a divine didn’t find you, and then pray to whatever would listen that you would be able to fight if they did. This was the first year that Angel Dust had ever actually stood ground anywhere during an extermination, and he had come to a conclusion: it was fucking stupid.

But they were alive. That was what mattered. And the hotel was still standing, which was a plus. Despite her overall mood being so down, Charlie was clearly feeling bolstered that part of her plan had been successful. She was so bolstered, as a matter of fact, that she had lifted Angel’s drink limit for the rest of the night (but she’d given Husk instructions to cut him off, so it could have been better).

Everyone was still gathered in the lobby, with the exception of Alastor, who had gone up to his radio tower to give his annual and suspiciously upbeat Extermination Recap. Charlie had turned the broadcast on in the lobby, and for once, nobody was terribly put off by the Radio Demon’s choice of entertainment material.

As was his ritual even before his seven-year sabbatical, Alastor made note of any notable Sinners who were slain, highlighted particularly amusing murders, and now, offered a shout out to anyone who had at least managed to make an angel’s life more difficult. The sound was eternally backed by the chorus of the damned the Radio Demon had collected over the years, howling behind his voice and impossible to completely ignore.

“The golden blood had better be raining from the sky next year, or maybe I'll have to join them in wiping out all you hot little gongoozlers myself! And that's a fact!”

Angel glanced to his side, where Cherri had her head laid down on the bar top, pillowed on folded arms. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or not, and he didn’t want to bother her if she was. “How you feelin’?” he asked Husk instead, who was (for some fucking reason) actually on his feet and doing his job, instead of doing something sensible like sitting down.

Husk barely looked up from whatever he was doing, maybe cleaning the pour tops for his bottles. “Doin’ how I'm doing,” the old cat demon growled. But then he glanced Angel’s way. “You holding it together, bud?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah,” Angel said, hopefully dismissively. He reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing through the sharp pain of a bite wound that he absolutely hadn’t gotten in battle. “Just glad that shit’s done for another year. Eager to go to bed and sleep for a week.”

“Husk,” Cherri whined into the bar top, apparently still awake. She made a grabby hand in the direction of his voice. “Lime meeee.”

Husk dropped a whole, uncut lime into Cherri’s hand with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Stupid cockwomble, thinks he’s so funny, I’m not here to fuck spiders,” Cherri grumbled as she withdrew the lime anyway.

Angel could hear her ripping it open and the sound of her biting into it. “Good, because I’m so not into you.”

“Like you’d be so lucky, fucknuckle,” Cherri said in the same dispassionate voice, flicking a chunk of rind that she’d stripped bare onto the bar top.

Angel looked at Husk and jerked one thumb at Cherri, theatrically whispering, “She’s in a great mood.”

“I was right next to him,” Cherri said, sitting up and snapping her head to look at Angel. “I have a short list of things I never want to see, but the Radio Demon unhinging his jaw and biting an entire head off is on that list. He didn’t even change his height. I see it when I close my eye.” Angel cackled, only laughing harder when she picked up the stripped lime rind and threw it at his face.

“Cool it, Jack,” Husk chided, messing around with something Angel couldn't see. In a couple of moments, he turned around and slid a small tray to Cherri. On it was a mixer where the rest of a drink was stored, some of it already poured into a highball glass with lime on the rim. And on a plate beside it, a pile of neatly sliced limes. “Nobody needs to see that shit. And nobody's as numb to it as you are, Angel. Maybe try to keep that in mind, huh?”

Cherri grumbled a cross, but sincere, thank you as she picked up the glass and took a measured sip of it. It was odd, Angel thought; Cherri pounded even complicated alcoholic drinks like it was going out of style when they went out together, but unless Husk gave her a shot, she never did the same thing here.

Weird and not worth thinking about right now, he decided.

“I dunno how anybody has a choice not to be numb to it,” Angel Dust said, looking at Husk again. “I mean, we kinda live with the guy, and we see him almost every day. If you don’t adjust, you’ll end up with a heart attack, at best.”

“Adjusting to his… vibe is one thing,” Husk said, glancing to Cherri to… make sure she was enjoying her drink, probably. “What he does when he's in a mood… there ain't no adjusting to that.”

From the middle of the lobby, Angel heard Vaggie, who had been sitting with Charlie nearby in relative silence.

“Hey, Alastor just signed off.”

Sure enough, when Angel shifted his focus, the radio was suddenly only sending out static.

“…what…?” Angel muttered, mostly to himself. That was odd. Alastor had been very excited about his post-extermination broadcast. “…why?”

“That was remarkably short,” Sir Pentious said as he lifted an Egg Boi off the radio before it could try to ‘fix the problem’. “I am sure we are all accustomed to him being far more long-winded than that.”

Charlie shook her head. She was staring at the radio, her frown slowly growing deeper. “He signed off too quickly for it to be normal,” she said, her quiet voice carrying through the now silent lobby. “I wonder if something happened…”

Their answer, strange and startling as it was, came with the renewed silence that followed Charlie's words. The space around them grew suddenly darker, and Angel was all too familiar with the type of power that settled in the air. But it wasn't the same one he knew. It was deeper. Darker. And the smell that twisted around them wasn't that horrible heady pink sour-sweet smoke he was used to.

It was rich and meaty, almost. Smoky… swampy… and he caught the faint whiff of cloves.

His breath was foul, but intoxicating, and Angel didn't want to take in any other scent for as long as he existed. The stench was paired with the rich spice of cloves, and he could see the black cigarette that carried it poised between his wicked grinning lips.

No one had any time to react. The moment after the air shifted, the darkness was pierced by a shocking green light.

Husk and Niffty both let out startled cries, and Angel could only stare in horror at the green chains trailing from their throats, heavy collars clasped around their necks. The chains were extending across the lobby, through the wall, angled far upwards, Angel knowing where they both must end. But then the chains began to shake, wobbling in that unreal sort of way something extremely heavy did when placed under extreme tension. They grew taut, vibrated under a crushing unseen force.

And then they shattered.

Husk and Niffty both fell to their knees. It was only Husk who collapsed completely, trying futilely to catch his own fall. Niffty was breathing fast and hard, consumed by panic. Both of them were grasping at their necks. The green glow faded completely, the chains gone, the darkness lifting. Even the scent faded away, leaving them alone with an empty feeling.

The silence only lasted for a few seconds. “Husk!!” Cherri shouted, shattering the emptiness too as she vaulted over the bar, knocking the little tray to the ground, glass shattering against the wood floor.

“…Alastor…” Angel knew what those chains meant. And he recognized the color, as well. And the direction the chains had been going… his mind flooded with dread as he shoved away from the bar and vaulted to his feet, running for the front door. “ALASTOR!!”

“Angel! Wait!!” Charlie cried, but he completely ignored her as he slammed through the door and skidded on the pavement before he managed to change direction and ran for the left side of the building. He jumped, reaching the first balcony, then jumped again to the third floor exterior, before he began scrambling his way up the side of the building.

No. No, this isn’t happening. You’re fine. Nothing happened. The extermination is over. You’re okay. I know you are. You always are. You promised we could…

Angel grabbed the underside of the vertical hotel sign and felt pain shoot through the bite on his shoulder. Immediately, he could feel the teeth in his flesh, the warmth of a thin and strong body pressed against his back, blood on his sheets, words growled in his ear…

“Are you ready, sha?”

So many months, Angel had wondered where he stood with Alastor. From flirting and dismissal or threats, to talking in the lounge over a shared interest in jazz, to occasionally cooking together… to the night before the extermination, when Alastor’s smile had been enraged and confused and desperate as he slammed Angel into the wall and promised him a pain so sweet that the extermination would be nothing but an inconvenience.

And he had delivered.

Alastor was guilty of many things, but he had never once broken a promise to Angel. He wasn’t about to let him start now.

He had never been in the radio tower before. He didn’t think anyone had except Alastor and Kee Kee, whose presence was a mystery to the Radio Demon but seemed persistent because she liked to sleep on the equipment. It took Angel a few seconds to even see the door, more of a hatch on the underside of the tower past the metal arm holding it aloft. Too panicked to be careful, Angel ran across the metal beams, slamming his palm up into the trap door.

“ALASTOR!” he yelled, hitting the door three more times. It didn’t budge. “FUCK YOU, ALASTOR, LET ME IN!!”

The latch clicked on its own, and Angel felt cold for half a second, but the sensation left as the spider shoved the door open and crawled into the tower. Pushing himself to his feet, Angel began running again, but stopped short after a few steps, looking around the room.

He could see what felt like the entire Pride ring through the windows past Alastor’s equipment. He saw his chair, his ‘Oh Deer’ mug, his collection of jazz records, all of the old equipment that Alastor refused to update… nothing was disturbed. Even the papers he had been reading from were stacked neatly, like they had just been tapped into a pile.

Alastor wasn’t anywhere.

“…Alastor…?” Angel called tentatively, stepping closer to the equipment. “This ain’t funny, Smiles, where are you?” His foot knocked something, and Angel looked down. He immediately stopped cold.

Alastor’s microphone was laying on the ground at his feet.

Angel’s breath shook as he stared at it. Alastor would never, never, go anywhere without his microphone close by. Not unless he had no choice. And if he had no choice, that meant—

No.

Trembling, Angel knelt and carefully wrapped two of his hands around the microphone staff. He straightened up, staring at it, and felt tears welling in his eyes.

The static in the microphone was gone. It wasn’t warm, it wasn’t cold; it felt like everything else in the room. He couldn’t feel power anymore. It was just… an object.

Angel’s breath caught in his throat, and his vision blurred as he clenched his jaw so hard he heard the hinge creak. He tightened his grip on the microphone stand, his mind blank. He barely heard the distant sound of groaning metal and snapping wires; it all meant nothing to him until a rumble shook the floor that sent him to his knees.

The radio tower was collapsing with him in it, and he couldn’t make himself care.

•

It was gone

It was gone

A terrible emptiness was clinging at his neck, so shocking it nearly burned. Husk grasped at empty space, his eyes unable to focus anywhere at all. He was on the ground, his stomach feeling the cold floor through his fur. He managed to slowly turn his head and was aware of Niffty, on her knees at his side. Her hands were on her thighs, palms upward, her mouth hanging open in shock.

He had longed for this. He wanted the end to the worst mistake he had ever made, and now it was here.

It was here and he felt… he felt…

He couldn't feel anything but pain.

“Husk!!” Warm hands grabbed onto one of his shoulders, firm enough that he couldn’t yank himself away. “C’mon, Husk, snap out of it!”

In fact they were really warm. And he could smell… nitrate.

His head bobbed, turning it vaguely. “The chain… my… my soul…”

He heard Niffty choke out what sounded like a sob.

One of the hands left his shoulders, and he heard a snap, accompanied by a sharp pop, like one of those bang snaps human children insisted on playing with. “Husk, come on, look at me!”

His ears, then his head turned and his eyes tried to focus. What he was met with was one large staring eye, a bright pinkish red X focused on him.

“...hey Bomb Pop,” he managed to whisper.

“Hey Korerehu,” Cherri answered with a similar softness, her hands now rubbing his shoulders. “I dunno what’s going on, but I need you to stay with us, ay?”

As Husk focused, his surroundings were quickly coming to him. From what sounded like outside, he could hear Charlie yelling. “Angel! Come back!!”

“What–” Husk looked past Cherri, but of course could see nothing. Her warmth, the movement, it was making it easier to think. “What's happening? Where’s…”

“Where's Alastor??!” Niffty wailed.

“C'mon,” Husk said to Cherri, letting her help him to his feet. “Let's get after the kid.”

“I dunno, Niff, let’s go see.” Cherri reached down and picked her up, then took Husk’s hand to steady him and ran out of the hotel after the others.

It didn’t take long to find them. They hadn’t gone far from the door, all gathered in front of the hotel’s eastern wing. Vaggie and Sir Pentious were both looking towards Alastor’s radio tower, and several of the Egg Bois were running around, miraculously staying out of the way even as they apparently tried to find something to do.

Charlie turned towards them as soon as she heard them approach, but she didn’t let go of Vaggie’s hand. “Angel went into the radio tower,” she said without preamble.

“Something is wrong,” Pentious said. “With the radio tower, I mean. I don’t remember it being tilted at that much of a downward angle before.”

That was all Husk registered hearing before unfurling his wings and launching himself up into the air. He felt his feathers rush past Cherri and Niffty but he had no time to care. Pentious was right. The tower was sagging. And as Husk flew to one tier of the hotel, scaling up to the next, and the next, he heard the deep groan of bending metal beams and the sharp splintering of wooden boards. Gritting his teeth, Husk kicked off the side of the building, his wings flapping and tucking in to propel himself faster. He raised his forearms in front of his face, feeling his hat fly off as he crashed through the huge glass window. He rolled to his feet, feeling the floor tilting beneath his paws.

“Angel! Kid!!”

Angel was kneeling on the floor, unmoving. He looked like he was in some sort of shock. It was delayed, but he started, then looked up at Husk with eyes entirely glossed over with tears.

Alastor’s microphone was held in two of his hands across his lap.

For an instant, Husk froze. The sight of the abandoned microphone, with Alastor’s domain crumbling around them… the somehow painful emptiness around his throat… it was all making everything way too real. And Angel Dust… he was… crying? The tower gave a huge lurch that snapped him back to real space, and Husk rushed the other Sinner and scooped him into his arms.

“We’re getting the fuck out of here. Hang on, kid!”

Angel Dust didn’t resist. He was like a rag doll, focused on nothing but holding onto that microphone as Husk launched them back out into the open air. The moment he touched down on the edge of the roof, a horrific, cracking groan filled the air, and below them… the metal supports of the radio tower finally began snapping under the force of some unseen and massive power.

As soon as it began to fall—almost that very instant—Angel Dust became animated again. “No,” he whispered, staring over the edge of the roof. “No, no, NO, NO!!” He tried to launch himself out of Husk’s hold, his sudden desperation so intense that the bartender had no choice but to seize onto the spider with his claws to keep him in place. Angel didn’t even seem to notice. “ALASTOR!!”

“Kid, kid stop it!!” Husk dug in deeper, some wild emotion bubbling up inside of him that came out as a scream. “HE’S GONE, DAMMIT! He’s DEAD!”

Angel froze, his hand clinging to the side of the roof like he wanted to propel himself off of it. His labored breath began changing in tone, a distressed and high-pitched whirring noise hissing through his clenched teeth, before he threw his head back. The noise he made was somewhere between a heartbroken scream and the wailing howl of a wounded animal, continuing as he doubled over and hugged the microphone to his chest. As he lost air in his lungs, the sound tapered off into a weak vocalized exhale, just before he collapsed into Husk, sobbing openly and almost hysterically.

Husk went to his knees, falling back to let Angel fall fully into his lap. He felt helpless, hollow, utterly ill equipped to help Angel with whatever horrifically incomprehensible agony he was going through. There was no way he could bring himself to desire any understanding, not for Alastor. For anyone at all but for the Radio Demon. Yet as Angel cried, the sick feeling within Husk only grew, the pressure in his throat and behind his eyes burning and pressing into him from the inside and threatening to burst and tear him apart.

Dully, he was aware of the others’ voices down below, panicked and confused, calling their names… and Alastor’s. Niffty was crying again. But Husk didn’t move. Angel clearly was in no position to go anywhere or do anything, and he wasn’t about to disrupt that. Caring for the spider was all he had to keep him from actually addressing the growing pit that his freedom had left him with. He stroked Angel’s back in slow and gentle movements, uncertain if the kid even felt it.

How did this happen? The extermination was over. The angels were gone, the portal closed. And yet, Alastor knew something had happened. He ended his broadcast in order to face it.

And then it killed him.

Alastor, the Radio Demon, the most perplexing and terrifying Overlord to ever menace the streets of Hell, was dead.

Husk, the disgraced gambler who knew better than anyone just how despicable the creature truly was… he was free.

And with that knowledge, he leaned over Angel Dust, and he cried.

•

There was one spot on the red wooden bartop that never liked to take polish well. For a structure conjured out of apparent nowhere this imperfection was confounding, and irritating. Husk once wondered if it was there intentionally, crafted by its creator explicitly to fuck with him, to annoy him when he had to wipe down this bar day after day after day. He had never chosen to go into slinging booze. Drinking was a favorite vice of his for many years, and Husk knew his home was on the other side of the bar. But that was how Alastor was. He loved his little ironies. In the last hour Husk had polished that impossible spot on the counter so many times, so thoroughly and with so much product that it was now so shiny that it would forever stand out from the rest of the bartop for a completely different reason. But Husk wasn’t thinking about that. Was he thinking about anything? His hand moved in circles, over and over and over, dabbing the cloth with the polish, applying it to the same spot, then circles. Circles. Circles.

Niffty was with him, treating stains and sweeping, stabbing bugs with her giant needle with no real enthusiasm. She was even working on the most stubborn blood stains, the ones she had named long ago, causing the edges to fade, the warped ‘faces’ becoming less discernible. She had stopped crying hours ago, and now the two of them were numb. Neither knew how to process what happened, and neither was in any shape to reach out to the other. So they merely existed in the same space together, going through the motions, doing what they had always done since Alastor first dragged them into the Hazbin Hotel. What else could they do?

They were both so deep in their own pits of thought and feeling and aching emptiness that neither of them heard anyone else enter the room until Charlie stepped onto the wooden floor of the bar area with her bare, cloven-hoofed feet. Her hair was still tied completely up, jacket and tie gone, shirt untucked and sleeves rolled past her elbows; by her physical state, going through the wreckage outside was taking a while.

Charlie looked between the two of them, flexing her hands at her sides and looking like she was about to offer them an apology… or worse, sympathy. Instead, she looked at Husk, and spoke in a roughened voice. “Angel’s finally asleep,” she said. “Pen gave him something to knock him out, make him get some rest. …thought you’d want to know.”

He nodded dully. “Yeah. Thanks.” His own voice was raw, and he realized it was the first time he’d spoken since finding Angel Dust in the tower. “The others. They good?”

“Uh. They’re…” Charlie rubbed her arm, looking towards the front doors. “…Vaggie’s still outside, looking for anything that might tell us… …in the…” She bit down on her lip. “…Pen’s trying to find the door to his bedroom. It… it disappeared. Cherri was with Angel but I think she’s in the kitchen now.” She raised her hand and rubbed it across her mouth, now just staring at the entrance hall. “…I’m gonna call my dad in a bit. See if… maybe he knows anything. Or if he can come and check things out.”

The princess’s mood was heavy. Serious. She hadn’t seemed to be doing great after the extermination, but now… subdued was too mild a word for it.

“…Husk. Niffty.” Charlie finally looked at them again. “You two… don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.”

“What?” Husk just stared at her, and Niffty dropped the soap bucket she'd been carrying.

Charlie’s expression was sad, heavy, but perfectly serious. “I know you came here because he compelled you,” she said. “And I know neither of you were given a choice in the matter. You don’t… have to leave. I know I speak for everyone when I say we care about you, and we want both of you to stay. If you want your rooms, if you want your jobs, they’re yours, and we can discuss your pay tomorrow. But if staying here is…” Her expression faltered slightly. “…if you choose to leave, I understand.”

Husk let the rag he’d been using fall over the spot he had overpolished. “You’ve put together just what happened there… The nature of our… relationship.”

She nodded.

He nodded back, and saw Niffty approaching, slowly clambering up onto a barstool and then hopping onto the bar to sit on the edge as she always had. Husk couldn’t handle the expression on her face so he focused back on Charlie. “It’s been a long time. For both of us. Hard to imagine what’s next.”

“No it’s not,” Niffty said in a sad little voice.

“Niff?”

She looked at him, but he still couldn’t meet her eye, so instead he merely felt her somber gaze. “We’re gonna stay here, right Husk? I mean, there’s still so much cleaning left to do. We all know we can’t trust any of you guys to handle it.”

Husk closed his eyes. How am I gonna say this?

Charlie made a soft noise like a sad chuckle. “You’re right about that, Niffty. We all know what happens when the Egg Bois try to do the windows.” Husk heard her approach the bar. He could feel her hand touch the bar top near one of his, but she didn’t make contact; it was simply the unmistakable aura of power the princess didn’t seem to realize she always had wrapped around her. “I don’t need an answer right now, Husk,” she said, her voice softer. “I wanted to give you your options. You can take as long as you need to consider it. …even if you need to think about it somewhere else.” Her hand moved again. “Niffty, I know it’s late, but Vaggie wanted to ask you something. Would you mind coming with me for a minute? You can come right back after.”

When Husk opened his eyes he saw Niffty smile warmly at Charlie, accepting the Princess' hand in helping her hop down off of the bar. The little demon cast Husk a look. He didn't say anything.

Charlie gave Husk a nod, her face full of an alien sort of understanding that he wasn’t equipped to deal with right at that moment. Maybe not at all. She then returned Niffty’s smile, keeping a hold of her hand and walking out of the hotel with her. Husk couldn’t pick out the words, but he heard Charlie speaking softly just before they disappeared through the doors.

The silence left behind was heavy. Deafening, almost. It had been bad enough when he and Niffty had been simply going through the motions together, but without even her small presence, the hotel lobby felt too huge. It was like it could swallow him whole.

Before Husk could decide what he was going to do—before he had a chance to really establish what his options were—another door opened. The kitchen door. Cherri Bomb wandered into the lobby, looking a little bit lost, her hair down and her arms hugging her torso. She gazed around the room for a moment, only stopping when her eye landed on Husk. Then, she just looked at him.

He watched her for a few moments, trying to parse her expression, feeling perhaps as lost as she did. Unable to come up with anything else he just said, “You need a drink.”

“…yeah.”

Cherri came over, only releasing her hold on her own abdomen when she slid onto a stool and folded her arms on the bar top. She watched him mix the drink; Husk couldn’t tell if she really wanted a drink, or if she could somehow tell that he needed something to do.

“…I made food,” Cherri said. “Wanted to lay a hāngī but that… so, it’s just roasted veg and some fish. …doubt anybody’s gonna be hungry, but it’s there.”

He was working without thinking, starting with a lime in hand. She likes lime. But it was a cocktail he hadn't had in a long time, and wasn't sure he'd ever actually made one on his own. His memory was almost too good though, and with white rum, triple sec, maraschino, and a squirt of simple syrup, all blended with ice, he soon presented Cherri and himself a pair of large and full martini glasses of an opaque drink the color of honeysuckle.

“It's called a beachcomber,” he said, twisting a half of a lime over each of them. “Maybe we can pretend it's not so cold.”

“Thanks,” Cherri said quietly, pulling her drink closer once he was done. Her eye was fixed on the glass as she traced her index finger slowly around the rim. She made a strange noise in the back of her throat, then cleared it. “…fuck,” she whispered, her voice shaking with weak laughter and some other emotion. “I didn’t even like the fucker. I didn’t like the way he made… …why… why am I sad…?”

Husk stared at her, that pit gnawing at him a little more. “He was a bastard. A complete monster, a manipulative and cruel sack of shit… We should be glad. Fuck, we should be relieved.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He could see that Cherri was smiling, a sardonic curve of her mouth that almost looked painful. “…wanted to hate him because he made Angie cry.”

Angel Dust. Husk had been trying not to think about that. About sitting on the roof… that sound…

“That monster’s controlled my life for years… I knew him better than maybe anybody. But… what the fuck is Angel thinking? Why… What did Alastor do to him to make him feel that way?”

There had been something nagging at the back of his mind in the last few weeks, watching the two of them together, seeming almost to start joking together, Alastor showing more willingness to be near Angel Dust and being more playful toward his lewd commentary. Just another thing he didn't want to entertain thinking about.

“Angie wouldn’t tell me,” Cherri said, addressing her drink. “…I think he was in love. …is. Dunno why.” She finally picked the glass up and took a slow sip of it, much slower than she usually did. “…s’good.”

Angel’s in love…? With him? How is that even possible…? He watched Cherri drink. Her look was still so distant and strange. Seeing her so subdued, her fire so dim, it made him want to… do… something. “Good gin can fix just about anything.” He downed half of his in one go, immediately cursing himself when the slush hit his soft palate and shot pain straight into his skull.

Cherri glanced up at him and smirked a little, her amusement at his amateur mistake sparking for a second. She finished her own drink, apparently impervious to brain freeze, and placed it back on the bar top. She then placed her index finger on the base of her empty martini glass and rotated it back and forth slowly. “…hey. Husk.” She glanced up at him again, her face serious. “D’you wanna fuck?”

He met her gaze, warmth slowly gathering back in his head. For a moment he had to make sure he’d heard her correctly. “I don’t think you want me to answer that.”

She shrugged at him. “It’s just a yes or a no. I can handle rejection, I’m not that psycho.”

“That’s not the answer I’m talking about.” He finished his drink, careful to swallow it right this time. All the while, he didn’t drop eye contact with the explosive Sinner.

Her lip quirked a little, almost humorously. “Y’think I asked and hoped you wouldn’t say yes?”

Husk couldn’t stop his own smile. It felt like a shadow of the past. Abandoning everything uncleaned at the bar he stepped out from behind it, closing the space between himself and Cherri. He took her bare waist and tilted his face to look down at her. “Figured I’d give you a chance to think better of it.”

Cherri’s hands were warm on his upper arms when she placed them there, her fingers threading through black fur. “I’m not out to think right now,” she said, but there was no hesitation or regret when she pulled him forward and kissed him.

He fell in almost too easily. His arms finished encircling her, and he tugged her body against his. She really was warm, and heavy with a vaguely sharp and bitter scent.

The moment he pulled her closer, she wrapped her own arms around his neck, encouraging the kiss to deepen. She caught his tongue and sucked on it, biting just hard enough to give him a brief spark of pain, before she broke it and spoke against his lips in a gently panting voice. “Where?”

“My room,” he murmured back, his nose brushing her cheek. For just a little while, maybe they could both forget what just happened.

•

“The golden blood had better be raining from the sky next year, or maybe I'll have to join them in wiping out all you hot little gongoozlers myself! And that's a fact!”

Alastor reclined further in his seat, tilting his head back with a self-satisfied purr deep in his chest.

“I'm happy to report that I made quite the haul myself this year! Anyone feeling brave enough to traipse over to Cannibal Town tomorrow will be treated to the most fantastic feast you can imagine! Did you know that angel blood makes the most marvelous base for a binding agent in sausage filling? Not only is it succulent, but it sparkles at you while you eat it!”

He chuckled, letting the sound ring clear and bright through his microphone and across the airwaves. This development in Hell’s relationship with Heaven had managed to make his radio empire grow even faster than he’d anticipated since his return, and he was milking it for all it was worth. He could feel the pulse of both Sinners and hellborn alike tuning in to what had become the most comprehensive coverage of the extermination, without coating everything in a digestible sheen, ready to market to the latest in crowd. Idly he pressed into his left shoulder with his fingertips, biting his lip at the sting of a special pain that had been left there the night before. But he didn't allow himself to think about the context.

“And while you’re at it, be sure to come down and–” Alastor paused, cutting the mic as his ears turned toward a muffled sound coming from somewhere behind and above him. He turned his head while he switched the mic back on. “–and see what delights are on offer at Rosie’s Emporium! Remember, that’s Rosie’s Emporium! Where Rosie’s Guarantee is: Whether by Bread or Brocade, You’ll be Dressed for Dinner!”

Something was trying to get in. But it wasn’t on the roof, nor was it clinging to the scaffolding outside. He switched the mic off again and set an interstitial piece to play. In the next thirty seconds Alastor rose from his seat, cast a couple of intricate signs with his hands and when he projected his power out towards the disturbance in his ceiling, he was immediately sent backward into his desk by a ripple of equal power sent back at him. He pushed himself up with his fallen chair, materializing his staff in his hand.

At a corner of his studio, where two walls met the ceiling, there was a tear. A tear in the fabric of space, which was lined with a sickeningly bright aura of white and a gentle pale blue. It widened as Alastor rose, and his stomach twisted when he felt the force of energy that was now descending into his sanctuary.

He didn’t take his eyes from the portal as he raised his microphone staff to his lips, using it to finish the broadcast.

“I do hope you’ve enjoyed the broadcast, my cats, chicks, and chumps! Make sure you tilt one back for the sweet little saps who didn’t make it. Remember, next time, it could be you! And even if the angels don’t get you… the Radio Demon surely will.”

The signal cut off, and Alastor watched a pair of feet descending from the portal.

“To what do I owe this dubious little visitation?” he said, not moving from where he stood with his back to the desk and his mountain of equipment. The figure was growing more clear, long and flowing white robes covering an unreadable shape, a dark helm with long horns and a brutish artificial face.

The leader of the Exorcists, and an all around grotesque little irritant, Adam, was now standing in Alastor’s most sacred space.

“WASSUUUP BITCH!” the eloquent gentleman said, brandishing his unwieldy and ridiculous weapon. “Looks like you’re feelin’ pretty fuckin’ good about yourself right about now, huh? Extermination done, so you're feelin’ cushy and vibing out? Yeah, makes sense. So fuckin’ slow you don’t have any idea how fucked you are!”

“Do I need to leave so you can be alone with yourself?” Alastor asked, crossing his arms and cocking one hip. “I’m clearly not needed for this stimulating conversation.”

Adam sneered, wagging one finger at Alastor. “Nuh-uh. Stupid. Shut up. I’m the one who gets to feel awesome now.”

“And why is that?”

“Because now I get to fucking kill you.” The angel looked so pleased his face was starting to glitch, his grin turning manic.

Alastor laughed, throwing his head back and tossing his staff from one hand to the other. “You’re a little late, aren’t you, pal? Even the big cheese himself isn’t immune to the agreement that allows your little harvests to go down in the first place!”

But Adam laughed in return, fully raising his musical axe. “Sorry, creepazoid. This isn’t an extermination…”

Faster than Alastor thought he would (or could), the Exorcist swept towards him, slinging his axe in a wide arc. The demon had hardly any time to react, launching himself backward over his desk and landing on the floor just in time to be missed by the weaponized guitar. His desk, however, was hewn in two, splinters flying everywhere, cables cut and soundboards splitting open. Sparks flew around them both, and Adam laughed.

“...this is a reclamation.”

Alastor called on the shadows to coalesce around his feet, and he felt his body pulse and warp. His vision grew more distorted than it already was, the sight of his prey sharper and sicker. Awareness of Hell’s sweet and foul darkness blossomed into his mind and slid needles through gray matter, barbed and envenomed. Tenebrous limbs rose up and encircled him, acting through his intentions, the willpower planted inside them giving him physical sensation in turn.

“Oh, did I take something from you?” Alastor asked, casting a protective shell about himself while he started working up an eldritch flame. “I wish I’d known, I probably would have cared a little!”

Adam wasted no more time. Still grinning like a maniac, he merely flicked his fingers in the direction of Alastor’s shield, and it withered away in an instant.

“You must really like being wrong, bruh,” Adam said, Alastor suddenly having the feeling that this could actually be a very bad thing.

Alastor unleashed his flames in a huge ball, immediately following the flames with a spray of black tendrils, the tentacles whipping and grabbing at their prey. The Radio Demon gritted his teeth, his body stretching out, antlers creaking and growing. When the flames dissipated, Alastor looked… and saw nothing. His tendrils were grabbing at each other, and Adam was nowhere to be seen.

But how?

“Actually, fuckstick, you're the thing I’m taking back,” he heard from behind him. Alastor turned, raised his staff, and gasped.

A strange sort of pain bubbled up inside him. Like cold air at first, then a rush of heat, a dull ache turned into burning, then started to feel cold again. From his left collarbone to his right hip, Alastor’s body was both here and not. A void had been carved out of him, and in that horrible moment all he had to look upon were the dull gold features of a sadistic grin, the one that alone called into question everything naive souls thought they knew about Heaven and Hell. Passively, Alastor was aware that his body had been destroyed beyond repair. Passively, he was aware that he was dying.

Actively, quite actively, he became aware that the axe had cut straight through the deep spider’s bite marking his shoulder.

A final curse welled up in his mouth and was silenced, drowned by a bubbling globule of blood. It was a sensation he’d known in another time, years ago on the crossroads, when he’d made the choice that rewrote his fate.

Angel my dear… I’m afraid I’m going to have to break my promise to you.

Adam said something else, probably some other inane jeer of mocking victory, but Alastor couldn’t hear him. His vision was growing dim, reds fading to gray.

It is a shame. I was so eager to see you really dance.

Something strange settled over his awareness while he sank, blackness of an unfamiliar sort beginning to envelop him.

There is still so much more I’m curious about.

He heard something finally, but it didn’t come from Adam, nor anything else in the room. It was in the space between spaces, everywhere and nowhere, hidden just out of view and bathed in green light.

“There is snow on the ground, and the valleys are cold, and a midnight profound blackly squats o'er the wold; but a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings unhallowed and old. There is death in the clouds, there is fear in the night, for the dead in their shrouds hail the sun's turning flight and chant wild in the woods as they dance round a Yule-altar, fungous and white.

“To no gale of Earth's kind sways the forest of oak, where the thick boughs entwined by mad mistletoes choke, for these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk. And mayst thou to such deeds be an abbot and priest, singing cannibal greeds at each devil-wrought feast, and to all the incredulous world shewing dimly the sign of the beast.

“I to my prison, and you to yours. Greet my dear brother for me, ahnah ehye, and wish him all the ill you hold, for now your task is transformed.”

Alastor’s head was on the ground… no… on something soft and white. Fluffy and soft, rising and falling in a slow, contented cycle. He reached out his hand, expecting to feel small and delicate fingers wrap around his own. But they didn’t.

Because Alastor was dead.

[the-music-maniac]

You know what confuses me about Crisis Core.

So, we learn when Zack is dispatched with Tseng to Banora that Genesis murdered most of the townfolk, his own parents, a bunch of Shinra soldiers, and then started bombing the place with the arsenal he took. I mean, he fails because of Zack and then Shinra like. Sends an airstrike anyways to destroy evidence of company involvement, rendering that attempt moot. Then he like. Sends another summon after Zack.

In the course of the entirety of Genesis' rampage, it's implied that he killed probably a shit ton more people in cold blood and for his own ends, he turns a bunch of them into Genesis copies for crying out loud, which is quite horrific.

When Genesis is doing his rambling thing in front of the damn statue at the end of the game, Zack tells him he's here to help Genesis. And when he goes to contact the statue, Zack yells, "Don't let it take over, you're not a monster, you're one of us." Keep in mind Zack is aware of the atrocities Genesis committed of his own volition, even if he wasn't necessarily sound of mind because of the degeneration.

In contrast, during the Nibelheim incident, after Sephiroth locked himself inside the library for like a week without eating or sleeping, joined Jenova and then burned down the village, Zack finds him and demands answers. Sephiroth is clearly...not himself. His speech patterns are entirely different (creepy), he can't take his eyes off the containment unit, he ignores Zack's demands. Zack realizes Sephiroth isn't being himself, I recognize that, but it confuses me, that he didn't attempt to get through to Sephiroth harder, when he at least showed signs of doing so with Genesis and Angeal. Angeal I get, that was his mentor. Genesis though? Like even while Zack and Sephiroth were fighting, I expected at least some dialogue of Zack attempting to reason with him.

We know as players that Sephiroth goes on to do more heinous shit, but until then, his crimes are about the same as all those that Genesis committed. Genesis destroyed an entire village. Sephiroth destroyed an entire village. Genesis destroyed more than a village, so I'd argue the shit (outside of Shinra's orders of course) he did was worse.

Was it because Zack was too angry at the time? Nibelheim was still burning, Tifa was hurt, while the atrocities Genesis committed were distanced - Zack didn't see a majority of them. Maybe the whole "take over the planet" thing? Was it because Sephiroth was attacking him, and so Zack had to concentrate on surviving? Why was Genesis given grace, when Sephiroth wasn't? Yes, I understand Cloud and Tifa watched their parents get murdered in cold blood, so they're understandably furious, but what of all those families Genesis had destroyed? Even while Zack was at Shinra, he still intended to get Genesis back alive.

The entire theme of the game had been posing a question - are the SOLDIERS monsters. Zack had been adamant that they aren't at the beginning, while the three that were affected, Angeal, Sephiroth and Genesis hadn't been sure. Sephiroth was the only one who hadn't received any sort of contradiction to his own beliefs. Angeal did. Genesis did. And Zack fully WITNESSED the breakdown Sephiroth had in the reactor. I can't be certain if he witnessed the awful shit that Genesis had said to Seph, I know he was knocked down - but was he unconscious? Even if he didn't hear it all, he had to have heard the "no such luck, you are a monster." because Genesis said it BEFORE Zack was knocked over. Did he not see the pattern? I don't understand how it could be possible that he didn't see it.

And I get that Zack himself was starting to lose conviction on the idea that SOLDIERS aren't monsters, but if you knew what Angeal and Genesis had been feeling - their bitterness over being turned into monsters coinciding with Sephiroth's own breakdown and questioning of his humanity - then why did Zack let Sephiroth go through that mental breakdown on his own? Yeah, so he told him to leave him be - Zack thought Angeal had killed his own mother in cold blood and yet he still went after him. Zack said Sephiroth was like a man possessed, so he KNEW this was unusual behaviour too. Also, isn't it weird to just be stuck somewhere for seven days with no further orders? Did Zack try to get through to him repeatedly and fail? The game didn't show that to be the case, Sephiroth was alone the entire time he was reading in that library.

Or did he assume that the Silver General could've handled it on his own, once again holding Sephiroth to a different standard than everyone else?

I don't know, I just find it hypocritical. I know the Final Fantasy games are a series that only really shows you glimpses of the main villain, in an attempt to get a player to question what it means to be a hero - they did it well, the entire thing reaps of hypocrisy.

Shinra does what it wants, sends airstrikes to cover up their tracks, maintains the image it wants to via control of the news, holds a monopoly on everything, destroys a different lands for resources, and while Zack begins to question what he's doing because of Angeal and Genesis, the questioning has nothing to do with Shinra as an entity, only the soldiers within. Why didn't he question Shinra, for inflicting this onto Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth? Why didn't he question that apparently Shinra has fucking cloning technology that can be used on the SOLDIERS? He picks up Angeal's blade while he was talking to Cloud, and is reminded of his SOLDIER honour. What honour? How did Angeal and Zack go for so long in Shinra while being "good people" without being disillusioned sooner by everything else they were doing? I understand the general population being fooled, but Angeal was one of the freaking firsts. They didn't question anything until Angeal and Genesis began to degrade? They weren't quite like Sephiroth, I'm assuming they weren't physically unable to leave if they wanted to be discharged. None of them were raised in a place where this was all they've ever known. None of them were raised to be disillusioned with death, to believe any empathy and compassion was weakness. Unlike Sephiroth, they had options.

And Sephiroth STILL had the mind to not only be compassionate with his own soldiers, but to want to defect. Because that was the only way he could've ever left Shinra.

I'm more convinced now then ever that Sephiroth was done dirty.

[emiplayzmc]

If a toon got left behind on a floor, I imagine twisted glisten would do his best to keep them safe. He wasn’t on the floor before when they were there but he came onto the floor later on and found them left behind. So like imagine if the group comes down to get the person, not realizing that glisten has taken it upon himself to keep watch over them. And they just immediately have so much dread because how the fuck are they going to tell glisten that they’re taking the toon… but not him. That despite it being appreciated that he tries his best to keep the left behind toon safe, they can’t really bring him back. Only bringing back the toon who he was protecting.

OOOO absolutely. Like he gets onto a floor and there's just this pile of boxes and racks that have clearly been moved from where they were to over to a corner, and he tries to look behind it to see a Toon hiding there, probably cowering and trying not to make a single sound. Immediate protective instinct, he does his best to find edible food to bring to their hiding spot, shooing away Twisteds that he can from where they are or just keeping them distracted in another area until it gets bored and leaves, but most of the time sitting with them outside that little makeshift safe spot, talking and trying to make it feel less lonely — because if anyone knows how awful that can feel it's him. He's always trying to do his best to keep the Toon from feeling lonely or abandoned, trying to get them to cheer up and probably very adamant about the fact that the others would come back for them, he wouldn't let them die alone like he had, they'd be safe and alive for when they were rescued. (In his mind there's probably at least a TINY bit of self-preservation in there as far as protecting the Toon. Like he wants to keep them alive, he wants them to be safe, but there's just that tiny self-serving bit that's like 'if I can keep this from going wrong in any way, shape, or form, and I show that I have my sanity still, and I never do anything to let them get hurt, they have to let me come back when they're rescued, right? I'd have protected them, I'm trustworthy, they HAVE to bring me with them').

The moment that group comes back, probably panicking because they were searching through so many floors to find that exact one again, Glisten hears the voices and runs over to tell them, leading them over to the Toon. Likely a lot of mixed feelings when they see him because on the one hand, thank GOD he helped to keep them alive and didn't attack the Toon at any point and just in general was a good friend to them when they were accidentally left behind (which that group feels awful about). But then yeah. On the other hand. They can't bring Glisten back. They hadn't discussed that with the other Toons in the lobby at all, they didn't entirely even expect the Toon to still be *alive* by the time they returned to find them, they just operate on that vain hope that they would be alive by the time they got back. How on Earth are they going to be able to ask Glisten to react in a calm and orderly fashion when they basically say 'at the moment, the Toon you helped keep alive holds more importance than you, sorry.' That would likely send him into an instant Panic Mode because he just tried *so hard* to show he was trustworthy, he kept one of them ALIVE, how is it still not obvious to them that he's trustworthy, that he wouldn't hurt them?? They can't just leave him after that!! The Toon can vouch for him, he's safe, they don't need to discuss it with the other Toons if he's safe — he did everything right!! So why is it that he still holds less importance to them even after all that? Why can't he ever seem to do things right so that they don't abandon him again? They just left a Toon behind and came back for them, why can't they do the same for him?

[penny00dreadful]

CW for this chapter on AO3

Part 1/ Part 5/ Part 7 (Complete)/ AO3

Eddie was adamant they go to the library at the museum, now more than ever. It was urgent he had all of the information he needed for the fight ahead.

How else was he supposed to battle a supernatural entity that seemed determined to suck his face… in more ways than one.

They were all jogging up the stone stairs to the museum, Eddie at the front, followed by Robin and Steve, who were followed by the remaining Cowboys. 

They never made it to the library, however.

Because as soon as their group turned the corner onto the main museum floor, they were met with Eddie’s boss; the curator and—

“You?” 

Eddie stared at the man wide-eyed. The man who had met them at the opening of the underground temple after Vecna had been awoken. 

The one who had glared at them and told them they’d fucked everything up, which to be fair, they had.

“Me.” The man said, standing amongst the ancient artefacts of his people. “My name is Ardeth Bay.”

Eddie raised a hesitant hand in a little wave, haltingly introducing himself while everyone else confusedly did the same.

“This is all very pleasant, but what are you doing here?” Steve asked, hovering over Eddie’s shoulder like he wanted to jump in front, to protect him from… what? Small talk?

“I suspect,” the curator sighed, “the same thing you are doing. Trying to find information on this Vecna fellow.”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth, his entire world view trying to rearrange itself to make sense of what was happening.

“We are a part of an ancient secret society.” Ardeth Bay proclaimed to the room.

Oh, so we’re just going to brush over everything and jump to secret societies? All right. Okay. This is fine. Eddie thought to himself, a little hysterically at how normal everyone was acting about such a proclamation.

“For 3,000 years we have guarded the City of the Dead and the evil that lay inside of it. We are sworn to do any and all in our power to stop Vecna from being reborn into this world.”

Eddie bit his lip.

“Sorry about that.”

“Question.” Steve asked with a raised hand, trying to pull the attention off Eddie. “Why doesn’t he like cats?”

“Cats are the guardians of the underworld.” Eddie answered him, though the question clearly hadn’t been directed towards him. “You could have just asked me.” He huffed.

Steve pursed his lips, but didn’t answer him, his face still a little twisted in the same way it had been when he was snarking about Eddie dating the mummy.

“So we just get an army of cats together to scare him back to death?”

“No.” Ardeth Bay said, his expression serious, not indulging Steve in lightening the mood. “He will fear them until he’s fully regenerated. Then, he will fear nothing.”

“Great.” Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“How would he achieve full regeneration?” Robin asked.

“By killing every single one of us and sucking us dry!” Jason screamed in hysterics.

Ardeth Bay didn’t answer, just gestured in Jason’s direction, confirming he was correct while the rest of them tried not to indulge his panic.

Robin nodded to herself, glancing around the room, taking a mental inventory.

“Where’s Tommy?” Robin asked.

“Hagan?” Billy leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. “Haven’t seen him since the mummy came back to life. I thought he was dead.”

“No, he’s alive.” Eddie said. “I saw him a few hours ago. Right before—”

“Right before we found Fred.” Steve nodded.

“He ran like a bat outta hell. You don’t think–?”

“Oh yeah, I do think. Tommy has no problem changing loyalty if it means saving his own skin.”

Robin pressed her fingers into her eyes. “Okay, great. Now we have that to worry about, too.”

Eddie looked between their mysterious new friend and his boss, figuring the easiest way to ask this question was to just be blunt.

“Do either of you know whether Vecna was a particularly horny man?”

The silence that followed his question would be almost comical if Eddie hadn’t been completely serious. Everyone around the room stared at him like they thought he’d finally lost it. 

With a great sigh, like his patience was still being tested, the curator responded. “Why do you ask, Munson?”

He was acting like Eddie was making fun of the whole situation. Not taking it seriously and yeah. His question might have been a strange one, but he was so super fucking serious. 

“Well…” Eddie hesitated. “I think he tried to kiss me.”

Ardeth immediately straightened up. “And it was you who read from the book?”

Eddie fiddled with the rings around his fingers.

“It was an accident!”

“How do you read a book by accident, Munson?” The curator almost growled, glaring at Eddie like he was a child insisting the cookies ate themselves. “You know what? I don’t care for whatever nonsense explanation you try to give me. It seems that Vecna has marked you as the sacrifice needed to resurrect the body of his lover.”

“So he is horny for Eddie?” Robin asked, poking around the ancient spears.

Ardeth tilted his head back and forth, considering. 

“In a way, yes.”

“Oh, well that’s…” Eddie placed his hands on his hips, sighing, “fantastic.”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Thanks, Robin.”

“Or… no wait, actually. Let’s think about this for a moment.” She said, coming around to stand in front of him. “We could use you as bait?”

“Nope.” Steve finally decided to speak instead of sulking in the corner, coming over to stand by Eddie’s side. “Not happening.”

Eddie turned his head to glare at him. “Who says you get to make decisions for me?” He poked Steve in the chest. “You were trying to set me up on a date with him ten minutes ago. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Steve just scowled. They were gearing up for another bitch fight, a back and forth that would no doubt irritate everyone else in the room, but before they could even start, everyone’s attention was diverted.

The room was steadily being thrown into darkness and as they all looked up to the domed skylight above, they saw the moon slowly being covered in darkness.

An eclipse.

They were rapidly running out of time.

They ended up back in Eddie’s apartment, everyone tearing through his things looking for the Book of the Dead.

“Where is it?” Billy snapped at him, practically overturning his couch.

“Well it’s not under there.” Eddie snapped right back, on his knees, rifling through the luggage he’d brought back from the expedition.

“If you don’t have it then who would?” 

Eddie looked up at Robin. 

“You, I would have assumed.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not me. Who did we last see it with?”

“Didn’t that pompous guy have it?” Steve asked.

“The Egyptologist?” Eddie pondered. “I think he did, actually.”

“Then he’s in danger.” Jason looked up from his exploration of Eddie’s drawers.

“Alright then.” Eddie pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go get him.”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Steve stopped him with a hand to the chest. “You are not going anywhere.”

Eddie’s mouth hung open in outrage. “Excuse me–?!”

“We have just had a conversation about a horny mummy looking to sacrifice you, I am not letting you leave this building.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at him. “And how exactly do you intend to stop me?”

He stepped forward, intending to shoulder past Steve but Steve ducked, unexpectedly catching Eddie around the middle, and before he could do anything to stop it, he found himself thrown over the caveman’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What are you— Harrington! What do you think you’re doing?! Put me down!”

For the second time in recent memory, Eddie found himself being thrown by Steve.

But at least this time he was tossed down onto his own soft bedding rather than being thrown overboard.

Steve barely spared him a glance as he turned his back.

“That is how I intend to stop you, Eddie.”

Before he could even push himself up to sitting, Steve had stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Eddie was on his feet and storming forward before he could even breathe, but he was half a second late in reaching the door, the lock clicking just before he made it.

He grabbed the handle, trying to wrench it open but there was no give to it.

“Harrington! I’m not playing any of your fucking games! Let me out of here!”

From beyond the door he could hear Steve ordering Billy and Jason to stand guard and calling Robin after him as his voice got quieter under Eddie’s constant shouting and pounding at the door.

“Billy! Jason! Open this fucking door right now!”

“Sorry.” He heard Billy let out a satisfied exhale as he sat down, the creak of Eddie’s overstuffed couch a familiar sound to him. “You heard the man’s orders.”

Eddie kicked the door. Hard.

Steve ducked unexpectedly, catching Eddie around the middle and before he could do anything to stop it, he found himself thrown over the caveman’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“What are you— Harrington! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Steve had one arm curled around his knees, steadying him, while the other gripped the door handle tight, slamming it closed behind the two of them.

“Put me down!”

For the second time in recent memory, Eddie found himself being thrown by Steve.

But at least this time he was tossed down onto his own soft bedding rather than being thrown overboard.

He had expected Steve to turn and stomp his way out of the room.

What he got was somehow far more terrifying and exhilarating than that.

He was left wide eyed and breathless as Steve leaned down low over him, nudging his way onto the bed with a knee at the side of each of Eddie’s legs.

“What– what are you doing?” Eddie asked in a hushed whisper, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere building around them. He was leaning back on his elbows but as Steve slowly began to lower himself, bringing their faces closer, Eddie let himself sink down to his back.

“This, Eddie,” Steve whispered to him, his breath fanning out over Eddie’s lips, a hand coming up to rest gently against the side of his face, “is how I intend to stop you.”

Closing that final bit of distance, Steve’s lips met his and though Eddie was below him, Steve still managed to worm an arm around his waist like he weighed nothing, pulling them flush together.

Eddie’s heart was pounding in his chest but there was no way he was going to hesitate any longer than it took for his brain and his lips to catch up with what was going on.

His eyes slipped closed, and he kissed back, hard, his own hands coming up to tug at Steve’s hair.

Eddie’s legs developed a mind of their own, winding their way around Steve’s middle and clamping on tight, punching a low groan out of him that Eddie happily swallowed.

Steve pressed in further, his tongue gently pushing into Eddie’s mouth and his pelvis grinding down, hardness meeting hardness and they both broke away to exhale, strained between them.

“Eddie. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.” Steve breathed between them. “Been thinking about you for so long. Eddie.”

He tipped his head back, mouth hanging open on a light moan as Steve ground down again, pressing them together and Eddie’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the feeling of soft lips against his throat. 

“Me–me too.”

“Eddie.”

Steve exhaled his name against his skin, like he couldn’t help it.

“Eddie.”

He kissed his way back up his neck and across his jaw before sealing their mouths together again.

“Eddie!”

Eddie opened his eyes, pillow below his head and the expected weight of Steve leaning over him.

But the eyes looking back at him weren’t the warm hazel ones he was expecting, but instead a bright electric blue.

Eddie tried to shove himself backwards, tried to scream but his mouth remained occupied, sealed against the man's own above him.

He could see nothing but blonde curls and angular features and his scream felt pulled from him, inhaled. 

Like the breath was being stolen from his body.

Every moment he pushed away, he felt his muscles become weaker, darkness starting to pull at his vision again while those eyes became steadily brighter.

“Eddie!”

His bedroom door banged open, splinters of wood flying and Steve swung forward, landing on the outstretched leg he had used to kick it open and break clean through the lock.

“Get off of him!”

Eddie felt like all of the air had been sucked from his body, dragged out of him, his lungs crumpling from the pressure as the figure above him finally unsealed himself.

The next second he breathed in, inhaling like the moment before implosion, feeling it extend the whole way down his body.

He fell back to the pillows, his body having been lifted slightly with the force of the extraction. He tipped over the edge of the bed, coughed out a mouthful of sand, and breathed in air like a drowning man.

 He looked up, Steve had Asy in his hands, holding her up in Vecna’s direction.

She looked as pissed off as he had ever seen her, spiked fur and claws out, but not directed at Steve.

She hissed and yowled so loudly that Eddie felt it ringing in his ears.

The otherworldly screech that came from the man above him only added to the noise but as Asy swiped for him, he dematerialized around them, spinning himself into a swirl of sand and blasting himself out of the window.

Eddie breathed heavily in the silence around them, putting a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

Great.

So the horny mummy had made his first move.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

Steve was hovering over him, his brows pinched in concern but his posture hesitant, so different from how he had looked in Eddie’s dream–

Oh fucking Christ.

Eddie had dreamed of him! 

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He lifted his eyes again, up to Steve.

Steve, who was looking down on him, all big hazel eyes and chest hair and moles. 

There was a blush rising to his cheeks. 

Nope. He was absolutely not going to be thinking about that right now. 

He sat up, the collar of his sleep shirt falling open, practically hanging off his shoulder.

Eddie tugged it back into place while Steve stared up at the ceiling, apparently finding it very interesting to look at, a deep red blush crawling up his neck.

Robin just raised her eyebrows at him.

“‘M fine.”

He snatched up his trousers from where they had been tossed over a chair and tugged them on.

“I’m getting really sick of unexpected kisses.”

Steve let out an offended noise, his head whipping around before his eyes went wide at the sight of Eddie buttoning up.

He turned his head away again.

“So you’ll call that a kiss, but not mine?”

Eddie grinned at Steve’s back.

“Jealous?”

He couldn’t see what expression was on Steve’s face but he could feel the stare he was giving Robin, some kind of silent communication that she just rolled her eyes at.

Unfortunately, the answer as to how Vecna had managed to get into Eddie’s room when he had two guards at the door was that the guards were no longer at his door.

At least not alive.

Vecna had sucked the life from the two of them which at least explained how he was less corpse and more man when he snuck into Eddie’s room like a giant fucking creep.

And honestly, Eddie was over it at this stage. He was over unwanted kisses and undead corpses and sacrifices and plagues. 

He was just fucking over it.

He stormed back up the stairs of the museum, just wanting this shit ended. Robin, Steve and Ardeth, who had still been at the museum, were on his heels, scrambling to keep up.

“Eddie, wait!” Steve called after him.

Eddie had the benefit of long legs on his side, able to clear multiple steps at once in his rush and pure irritation.

“When I’d read about the Book of the Dead before, I never really took it seriously. I mean bringing people back to life?” He scoffed. “Sounded like nonsense. But now that I’ve seen what I’ve seen, there’s a chance the Book of Amun-Ra will have a way to kill him. We just have to find it.”

“And you’re going to find it, are you?” Steve snarked. “It’s not like people have been looking for that for hundreds of years.”

“Thousands.” Eddie quipped right back.

“Right. Thousands.”

There was a low murmur coming from outside, getting closer as Eddie finally found his way to the huge stone tablet, the sound of a crowd forming, a slow chant becoming clearer and clearer the closer they got.

Vecna. Vecna. Vecna.

Great, just what they needed. 

An enthralled crowd.

“Are you sure you need to be here for this?” Steve asked, his back tense as he looked over the railing of the upper section they were on, down to the lobby.

“How else do you expect me to read this if I’m not here?” Eddie muttered, tracing his fingers along the hieroglyphics. 

“Robin could have read them. We could have gotten you somewhere safe so you’re not…” Steve huffed to himself, “...kissed again.”

Before Eddie could answer, Robin chimed in.

“Wouldn’t have worked. I understand alphanumeric texts better. Eddie’s the expert when it comes to logographic writing.”

“Okay. According to the Bembridge scholars, the Golden Book of Amun-Ra was supposed to be located inside the statue of Anubis.”

“But that was where you found the black book?” Ardeth asked.

“Right.” Eddie nodded. “They mixed up where they were buried. So if the black book was actually inside the statue of Anubis, then the Golden Book has to be…” Eddie trailed off, taking his time to make sure he was translating correctly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Robin wave him along impatiently, trying to get him to hurry up.

Eddie dismissed her with a wave of his own hand, trying to keep his focus.

He’d been focusing so hard he didn’t even flinch when he heard the door to the museum slam open and the unmistakable sound of the crowd start to filter in, lowly chanting to themselves. 

“Keys.” Robin held her hand out urgently to Steve, who threw her his car keys without a second of hesitation.

As soon as she caught them, she was off, tearing down the corridors of the museum in the direction that would lead her to the back entrance, where Steve’s car was parked. The one they had used to get here.

There.

Eddie had found it, finally.

“The Golden Book of Amun-Ra is at Hamunaptra inside the statue of Horus.” He turned back to what was left of their party with a huge smile, his eyes landing on Steve. “Take that, Bembridge scholars!”

Steve’s smile in return was something soft and a little proud if Eddie was reading it right, making something squirm with satisfaction in his belly.

The feeling only got worse when Steve grabbed his hand and pulled him along the corridor, keeping him close as the three of them followed the same route Robin had taken while the sound of footfalls got ever closer.

Outside the museum, Robin was waiting with the car, sitting behind the wheel and practically bouncing in her seat, urging them forward.

Eddie made a dive for it, throwing himself face first into the open top back seat, Ardeth following smoothly behind while Steve pulled some kind of hero move, vaulting himself over the passenger door and into the seat next to Robin, who slammed her foot down on the gas pedal immediately, Eddie still rolling like a pinball in the back.

The crowd was slowly shuffling around the corner and through the museum doors and there, pushing his way through the middle, was Tommy, eyes ablaze as they landed on Eddie, who had finally managed to sit up, poking his head out over the back seat, hair flying around him in every direction.

Tommy puffed his chest out and let out a scream of “Vecna!”

Sand immediately began to swirl around the museum, slowly whirlpooling and condensing down into a vaguely human shape standing next to Tommy that was lost to them when they turned the corner and sped down the road.

“Why the fuck did we ever trust that guy?” Steve shouted at Robin over the wind rushing past them.

“Hey!” Robin pulled the wheel around, trying not to hit anything, her driving more erratic than smooth. “He was your pet, not mine!”

The car jolted again, skidding a little across the road before she got it back under control.

“Jesus, Robbie.” Steve was white knuckling the dash in front of him, “Need me to drive?”

Eddie was clutching onto the headrest in front of him, trying and barely succeeding in keeping himself from being thrown around, Ardeth doing the same.

“This isn’t me!” Robin grunted as the car shifted again, skidding out in a far more terrifying and uncontrolled way.

As they spun out, sand started to kick up underneath them and when Eddie whipped his head around to see what was happening he caught sight of a river of sand, writhing and undulating in and out under the wheels of the car. 

With one last terrifying spin, the car tipped. Two wheels bouncing up against the pavement and the front crashing into a water fountain, bringing the car to a sudden halt.

Eddie was thrown forward, over the seats and into the front, landing in a crumpled heap between Steve and Robin, the two of them trying to shake off their own impact into the steering wheel and the dashboard respectively. 

He was vaguely aware of the ever constant chanting of the crowd getting closer but he was finding it a little difficult to pay attention to, his head still spinning, even as Steve took his arm and helped to guide him out of the car.

The crowd was still approaching, still chanting as the four of them backed away until they had nowhere else to go, a stone wall stopping their retreat.

Steve plucked a burning torch from a bracket on the wall and waved it in front of them, trying to stop the crowd from their continued approach, Robin and Ardeth holding revolvers aloft, but they needn’t have bothered.

The crowd parted for a man who stepped forward clothed in a flowing fine linen blouse and an intricate pleated linen kilt, tied at the waist with a large jewelled belt. His bright blue eyes were lined with kohl and his bright blonde hair hung in swooping curls atop his head. 

Vecna.

Fully regenerated.

Seemed like he’d been snacking since the last time he and Eddie had come face to face.

Steve, Ardeth and Robin stepped together, placing Eddie firmly behind them, blocking him from sight.

Tommy shuffled along at Vecna's side, eyes darting between all of them.

When Vecna opened his mouth to speak, Tommy translated for him and Eddie had to wonder if it was just for Steve’s benefit because both he and Robin could understand him easily, and judging by the expression on Ardeth’s face, he could too.

“Come with me, my love.” Tommy said after Vecna spoke. “It is time to make you mine, forever.”

Eddie scowled and poked his head out over Robin and Steve’s shoulders.

“He said ‘for all eternity’, idiot.”

Tommy’s lip curled and he opened his mouth to snap back but when Vecna began to speak again, he switched track almost immediately, translating again.

Vecna stretched an arm out towards them.

“Take my hand,” Tommy said, “and I will spare your friends.”

“Bullshit.” Steve spat.

Eddie brought a hand up, resting it on Steve’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Have you got any bright ideas?”

Steve didn’t move from where he was, still standing in front of Eddie like a statue. 

“I’m working on it.”

“Well,” Eddie sighed, hating himself for having come to the conclusion that he had. That this was the best way forward. That without Steve and Robin and Ardeth, the world would definitely be doomed. And that the best way to make sure they stayed alive was to comply… for now.

He stepped around Steve, allowing his hand to drag across his shoulders and down his arm, taking his hand momentarily.

“You better think of something fast because if he turns me into a mummy, you’re the first one I’m coming after.”

“What– Eddie!” 

Eddie ducked low, slipping under the arm that Steve threw out to try and stop him.

He stepped forward, taking Vecna’s hand and felt himself get pulled in close, curled into Vecna’s side, almost lovingly.

Eddie’s eyes didn’t leave Steve, who looked like he was ready to set the world on fire, pulling his revolver out and taking a step forward.

“Steve, wait!” Robin and Ardeth grabbed him by the arms, pulling him back between them and Eddie held a hand up to stop him as well.

 “Stop, it’s okay, Steve. He has to take me back to Hamunaptra to perform the ritual.” He lowered his voice, almost imploring him to keep a level head despite his own heart thumping loudly in fear. “You have time.”

There was a tense moment where Eddie wasn’t entirely sure whether Steve was going to listen to him, Ardeth whispering into his ear, repeating the same thing. It looked like Steve wasn’t even sure if he was going to submit, but eventually he took a step back, though it seemed to take a great effort to do so.

“I’ll be seeing you later.” Steve growled, pointing his torch directly at Vecna, who just smiled at him, placid and confident. 

Eddie felt himself being pulled, almost dragged away and even though he’d conceded to this, it was difficult to make his legs comply.

He looked back over his shoulder where he saw Tommy approach Robin, reaching into her pocket to pull the puzzle box out.

Robin glared at him and suddenly raised her fist, faking out a punch to the face.

When Tommy flinched back, Robin grinned at him and Tommy turned his back, following after them.

“Kill them!” Vecna shouted to the crowd.

God damn it, why had Eddie expected anything different?

“No!” He tried to pull away as the crowd closed in, blocking him off from his friends but Vecna’s grip was unfaltering.

He would have bit and scratched and clawed his way out. 

If he had to resort to dirty tactics, he would. 

He would have popped Vecna’s fucking testicles under his knee if he’d had the chance, but he didn’t.

Eddie’s senses were assaulted, sand swirling around him and he could feel it getting sucked into his mouth, up his nose, in his eyes, in his ears and everything around him darkened. 

Part 1/ Part 5/ Part 7 (Complete)/ AO3

Happy birthday @hbyrde36

My biggest thanks and much love to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

[scekrex]

You gave ma an idea babes and I really wanna go with it, because the mere thought almost made me burst out laughing.

So, Adam's kid, right? Yeah. The kid can learn how to fly, yeah? Yeah. SO NOW IMAGINE ADAM ACTUALLY TRYING TO TEACH HIM HOW TO FLY. But if you thought it would be a normal parent style - you were wrong, come on, it's Adam 😂 So at first he would just crappily explain what and how to just then pick up his kid AND THROW HIM OFF THE BALCONY TELLING HIM TO FLAP HIS WINGS 💀 If he saw the kid didn't he would just screech and fly after him and catch him before flying back up to the balcony and saying 'Alright, we're never doing THAT again' before seeing the reader just standing in front of him with arms crossed over his chest and a pissed off look, his cat mom instincts kicking in, wanting to protect and hide the kid from the - IQ levels baby daddy 😂😂🤌

So the ending might be heavily inspired by our talk about us yeeting babies too- xoxo babes

Flying and Falling are pretty close to each other

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, yeeting of children, a crack fic once again bitches

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam had been given the task to have an eye on his son while you were taking a bath. It had been a stressful week and you desperately needed some alone time, some time away from Adam and your son to relax a little. So Adam had assured you that they would be fine.

Adam was standing on the balcony of your apartment, his son was lifted over the railing like Simba in ‘The Lion King’ as the brunette spoke, “So remember, flapping your wings will make you fucking fly, got it shithead?” The kid in his arms nodded and Adam took that as his go to yeet the child off the balcony.

Your apartment was on the highest floor, the 96th to be exact. So if you fell off the balcony - or in that case were yeeted by your father - there was enough time to spread your wings and flap them. When that didn't happen though, Adam was quick to get in the air himself and catch the little boy who seemed to be enjoying the free fall more than he should've.

Adam wrapped his arms around the kid's body and pressed it against his chest, his hands shielded the child’s ears from the wind as he rushed back to the balcony, “Listen you little fucker, we're not gonna tell dad about what just happened, alright?” Adam hummed, seemingly proud of what he had just done as he landed on the balcony, his back towards the door that led inside.

“No need to tell dad anything,” you were leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Adam and your son. Adam spun around, with a loud, frightened gasp, “Fucking Christ, babes, you can't sneak up on a guy like that.” You simply raised an eyebrow at him, clearly demanding an explanation. “I was teaching our little fuckhead how to fly,” he explained proudly as he puffed his chest and spread his wings pridefully, his chin tilted upwards and he looked down at you through hooded eyelids. “Mhm, how did it go?” you asked critically. You had seen what had happened and in all seriousness you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him, you knew you would've done the same, that's how birds learned how to fly after all. But someone had to pretend they were the responsible parent and Adam wasn't even trying.

“Pretty good, he's still alive and he made it back up, with a little help, but he made it.” You grabbed the little boy from him, he was eager to grab a fistful of your hair and pull on it, “Yeah we're never doing that again.” It was a lie, both of you knew that. But you had to keep the act up. So you walked inside with the kid on your arm as Adam playfully chased you through the apartment, “I’m gonna fucking get you and I'm gonna yeet the fucking child again.”

[moethewriter]

Hey!! Could you do it prompt 7 and 9 with finnick, if you'd like? Thank you I love love love your writing

Of course I can anon! I'm feeling far better than I was two days ago and am excited to get back into writing! Please enjoy! TITLE: In Another Life WORD COUNT: 1.3k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNING: Mentions of Snow unaliving people, angst and general hunger games violence TAGS: GN!Reader from District 8! A/N: That stomach flu going around is really nasty y'all! But I'm happy to be back in the writing seat. As always please let me know if anything needs to be tagged and I shall fix it! Other than that please enjoy! Not beta read as per usual! -

You eyed the targets in front of you and grabbed one of the knives laying on the table, your chosen skill had always been knife throwing. You were good at pinpointing accuracy and taking out someone from a distance with nothing but a blade. The knife felt heavy in your hand as you flung it towards the target, and hit the bullseye. You smiled softly to yourself, and cracked your knuckles, ready to throw another.

“Look at you go, bullseye is back in the ring and everyone is in trouble” A familiar voice rang out from behind you.

You turned your attention away from the targets and smiled coyly at the blonde man in front of you, you knew him all too well. Finnick Odair. Well everyone and their mother knew Finnick Odair, he was The Capitol Darling after all. 

“Finnick.” You said, leaning against the table. “Good to see you, again.”

“Is it?” Finnick raised an eyebrow and shot you a smile. 

“As good as it can be, in the circumstances.” You gestured to the room.

Cashmere and Gloss were training together, you weren’t surprised in the slightest that The Careers were in their own bubble. Some other Victors seemed lost, almost nervous and unsure of what they had to do, or unwilling to show off once more. You had only briefly seen your old friend, Johanna Mason, she had been furious and still was. Some part of you hoped she was off destroying some Capitol property and causing issues, she always knew how to get people angry. You loved that about her. 

“Yeah, not a fan of all of this.” Finnick said, a cross look passing his face. “Being paraded around before our inevitable death, not really my cup of tea.” He spoke so clearly, and you knew it was all a show for the people watching. 

“Our death?” You snorted. “Not mine, I’m going to do everything I can in that arena to make it out alive, and I suggest you do the same, Odair.” 

“You haven’t changed at all.” Finnick laughed, a real smile crossing his face.

It was nice to be surrounded by people who understood you in a fucked up way. You had become a recluse after your games, hiding yourself away in The Victors Village of District Eight. Snow had killed your family, and others you had loved after your adamant refusal to bend to his will, and you had shut down. People weren’t used to seeing you around anymore, and you knew Snow and The Capitol had been shocked when you had volunteered.

“I’ve changed a lot, actually.” You told him, grabbing a small towel to wipe the sweat from your brow. “And so have you … you can’t tell me anyone here is the same, Finnick.”

“That I can’t.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “But we’re still the same people we’ve always been, just a little more fucked up.”

“That I can agree with.” You tossed him one of the water bottles from the floor and he caught it perfectly. 

Everyone who stepped out of the arena as a Victor always came home … a little more fucked up then they had gone in. You certainly had. The countless sleepless nights, and nightmares that plagued you to this day. You remembered every person you had killed, and the ones you didn’t.

“Are you ready for what’s to come?” Finnick questioned.

“Not in the slightest.” You admitted, finally showing some sort of vulnerability since you had left District Eight. “I mean it’s a Quarter Quell, there’s no way that they don’t have some sort of trick up their sleeve to mess with us in there. I mean think of the last one, double the amount of tributes? There’s no way the only catch is going to be that they reaped us.” You shook your head, and took a swig of the water in your hand.

Quarter Quells were extraordinarily different. Whatever Snow and The Head Gamemaker were planning left a sinking feeling in your stomach. Seneca Crane was gone, replaced with Plutarch Heavensbee … you wondered what sick tricks he had in his bag of nightmares. 

Your arena had been a swamp, and it had barely been survivable. You had almost dehydrated in there … if it hadn’t been for your sponsors you probably would have.

“I know. I don’t like this.” Finnick nodded. “I don’t like that any of us are here, but we all should have known better than to trust the Capitol’s word … Snow’s word, that we would be left alone when we were done.” He snorted, screwing his eyes shut.

“Never trust a snake in the grass.” You nodded, not caring what anyone had to say about your words anymore.

You were taking a page from Johanna’s book during this whole thing. She let herself be known, and you were doing the same.

“Have anyone you’re fighting for?” You asked him, wondering if he had anyone back in District Four waiting for him. 

“No.” Finnick shook his head. “Mags is in here with me, and the only other person I’d be fighting to get back home to is in this with me.” He was fiddling with his thumbs, almost as if he was nervous.

“Setting your sights on Enobaria and her teeth?” You teased, punching his shoulder, lightly. “Brutus might kill you for even looking in her direction.”

Finnick cracked a smile. “No. Definitely not Enobaria. Someone else, far more special than any Career that even steps foot through those doors.” He said, finally meeting your eyes.

“Finnick-” You started, the realization starting to dawn on you.

He was talking about you. Finnick Fucking Odair, was in love with you? Of course you hadn’t noticed, you barely saw anyone these past few years … how could he even think about you in that way? It didn’t make any sense.

“I don’t want anyone else, Y/N.” He said. “I haven't since I saw you after you won your games. Even before that I think. I remember sitting there and wondering how someone with … and no offence … no filter and grace could stand before me on that stage in District Four and give a speech like that. You changed me in a lot of ways and when you pulled away from everything … It killed me. I’ve thought about you everyday since you hid yourself away in District Nine and I haven’t stopped. I don’t think I could stop. I want you … I’m fighting for you, even if you aren’t fighting for me.” He reached out and gently grasped your wrist.

The gesture was so simple, yet it somehow filled your entire body with warmth. 

“Maybe I’ll be fighting in there for you too … and we can see how this goes.” You told him, voice cracking.

You knew what the odds were in there, one was coming out, Snow would never allow another two Victors to grace that stage ever again. You were both doomed, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

He leaned in and kissed the top of your head.

“We should get back to training, I think we’ve taken too much time to talk.” He whispered, turning his back to you and setting his shoulders square. 

Maybe in another life you could’ve had a great romance with Finnick Odair, but you were certain that both of you were far too late in this one.

“Yeah. See you soon?” You questioned, moving to grab a knife.

“I’ll be around.” Finnick swallowed the lump in his throat.

And with that you were alone, if you had been a better person you probably would have cried, maybe even kissed him right then and there. But you weren’t. You were just … you and all you could do was survive.

[rius-cave]

So, why do you think Adam was said to be the first human soul in Heaven while Abel clearly exists?

Honestly, I have four theories:

1: Abel’s soul was stuck in a sort of purgatory (I know the concept of a “Purgatory” is probably different in Hazbin but I’m talking about a place that’s like in between Hell and Heaven you know) and they kinda pulled him out of there. This is personally my favorite because it also has the potential to be Abel and Adam angst 😌

2: This is more of a crack theory and not actually serious, but, Abel is Lucifer’s son and therefore technically isn’t the first full “human” soul to enter Heaven.

3: This one is based on a comic I saw on Twitter, where Adam saw Cain attack Abel, ran to Cain absolutely devastated and furious, raised his hands at him, and Cain stroke him with a sort of spear in panic because he thought Adam was going to end him. Adam died right then and there and went to Heaven, while Abel was still alive and bleeding out. Eventually Abel died of blood loss and went to Heaven as well. Like this one too.

4: Yeah and here’s one I dislike and don’t think is likely. This one says that in Hellaverse Cain killed Adam instead of Abel. I just find it stupid.

I'm gonna be so fr with you, I think the actual real explanation is that they forgot about Abel when they wrote that line LMAO DGJDFG

but BUT! If we want to play Matpat and come up with an in-universe theory, hmmm..... well, before we knew about Abel being in Heaven, I really liked the theory that it was because he actually went to Hell. He would've been a prideful person in life, which could've been part of what pushed Cain to kill him, and because of that he actually ended up being the first person in Hell. Obviously that doesn't hold up anymore which bums me out LOL

I think another possibility apart from the ones you listed, is that maybe Cain never actually killed him at all. Maybe he did something else to Abel, or the whole Abel story was just a cover up and Abel ran away instead. It wouldn't surprise me if they deviated slightly from the biblical story for drama

..

...

.......

(MINOR SPOILERS COMING FROM THE LEAKS DON'T READ THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS) Abel running away for whatever reason would be consistent with what was shown of him in the leaks, since Abel doesn't seem to like taking decisions and lacks a backbone lol

[beevean]

"SXSG is meant to draw in new fans before they go into the third movie fully knowing Shadow's backstory!" Um, from what I've been hearing, the game still kinda requires you to already know the events of SA2 and Shadow's game, in order to understand SXSG's plot. A new fan won't know why Shadow is so adamant about Black Doom returning, or why Shadow is more in disbelief and not happy to see both Maria and Gerald alive. Ironically, both the manga and Dark Beginnings were meant to fulfill that purpose before SXSG's release, but whoops, apparently neither are canon because they each had continuity snarls that didn't match up. And that's not even getting into how the movie *clearly* made changes to fit that different continuity. Thus potentially confusing more new fans about Shadow than his backstory did back then. SXSG was just shallow synergy with the movie from the get-go and because ST had extra money to spend to make side-content for a 10+ year-old game. The fact that there had to be a 'Year of Shadow' for a movie that already was going to sell itself because the movies have done well so far, is bizarre to me.

Yeah, I heard this argument too. The intro kind of speedruns through the key events of Shadow's life, which is not the best way to fully understand his character - the very summary of Shadow's trauma, "a series of tragedy befell the ARK, GUN took the lives of Gerald and Maria", is incredibly vague and misses key details like Gerald's manipulation of Shadow to turn him into a tool of destruction.

You know what this reminds me of? The way Ace Attorney summarizes past events. For example, in the second game, Phoenix says that Manfred von Karma is no longer in this world, but he doesn't tell us that he was accused of murder and probably sentenced to death. Why? Because it expects newcomers to pick up the first game, so it won't spoil the big twists.

This is why I say that SXSG is meant for newcomers. It gives them the quickest recap of Shadow's character, without spoilers, so that in theory they can still find the older games and experience them... except for Black Doom and his genetic ties to Shadow, which if you think about it it's weird. Why is Black Doom treated like a late-arrival spoiler, but Gerald's descent into evil isn't? Even though SA2 is wayyyy more infamous than ShTH?

But yeah. If SXSG isn't for newcomers, then I don't know the point of the game.

Let me put it this way. The original Gens was a love letter to Sonic's history as a whole until then. You kinda have to know it to fully appreciate it. The plot is paper-thin, because it doesn't matter: what matters is going through the levels with new gameplay styles. Sure, new fans can still find it fun because it's a good game, but they're gonna miss all the references, or the significance of redesigning Crisis City. Gens and Mania are not entry-games: they're games specifically for old-time fans who have stuck with Sonic for years.

SXSG isn't the same. Sure, the game itself is a good homage to Shadow's story, with all the levels that represent key moments in his arc (except for Chaos Island which is just there). But this game has a story. And what does this story say? ... well, nothing that hasn't been established already. If you have played SA2, ShTH and '06 (especially ShTH), then the plot of "BD wants to awaken Shadow's alien biology to suit his needs, Shadow thinks it's a load of crap because he's his own person" can only be stretched so thin to be interesting. His relationship with Maria is hardly more fleshed out than it already was in ShTH: she gets some nice personal details in her NPC dialogue, but she is still the kind selfless girl who wants Shadow to be happy, and Shadow wants to make her happy, and we know this. He barely talks with Gerald, even though he too is supposed to be important, and in fact Shadow could have been torn between the kind professor he remembers, and the knowledge of what he'll do to him in the future. Shadow's character doesn't move in any direction: he's still in the same place he has been since '06, except that this game hasn't erased itself from the timeline.

This is why I compared it with Frontiers: it just all feels like a recap and a "re-railment" at the same time. It's for people who want to know Shadow, and this is the entry point before redirecting them to previous games, or even the movie. And older fans... well, they get to say "WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK", right? Because we are in the "WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK" era, I suppose :)

[nightmarebeforenewsiesau]

If you haven’t already shared, what’s Spot’s backstory?

...This one has some trigger warnings. Here's the grocery list.

ABUSE LIKE A LOT

FAMILY/RELIGIOUS TRAUMA

THE SALEM WITH TRIALS?? SORTA??

(Slight) internalized homophobia

A HAPPY TREE FREINDS SOUNDING ASS SLOW DEATH

Yeah this little guy has it bad

-

Sean Patrick, more commonly known to his friends as "Spot" in death due to his good aim with a slingshot, is a mystery to many. Few know what he was when he was alive, and those who do have been sworn to secrecy. From now forth you are one of these trusted individuals... he trusts that you will keep this a secret. And if not, well.... we may say he carries that cane around for a reason, and it's not for mobility. At least, far from it anymore.

You see, Spot Conlon was never some fearful king. He never lived a lavish life, was never the top of anything... and he was certainly treated as less than a king, even as far as less than a person. His own father, a prominent figure in the community, was the cause of this. While in public he treated Spot wonderfully, but at home became quite a different story. While, yes, Spot's name in the afterlife is attributed to his slingshot skills, neither Spot nor his friends were the ones to come up with it. It was his father, calling him it as an insult due to the various spots from cigarette burns up his arms.

Spot's father was a very righteous, religious, set in his ways man. He could never be swayed, never convinced of any idea that wasn't his own. He said the lower class only were there for pity, that all those richer than him were swaying the elections. He said that friendship is a waste of time and that if a man didn't have money nor a reputation he had nothing. He said that any man who didn't get himself a wife was a fool and that if he didn't raise his children right, to be just like him, they were a disgrace... what he clearly considered Spot to be. So Spot tried... he really did. He wore long sleeves, did his hair nicer, started using ametur makeup stolen from his mother to hide the various marks, scrapes, and bruises on his skin. He stopped talking, and more started just arguing. But nothing seemed to please his father, who was growing more angry with him every day.

The witch trials of the 1600s were many centuries past, mostly out of everyone's minds. Spot had read a book on them in school, but the thought never quite crossed his mind again. After all, witches and demons and the like were all fake, in his mind. But there were still many adamant believers- one man in the late 1870s beat his wife to death, believing she'd been taken and replaced with a witch. Even though it was no longer punishable by court, certain groups learned to take it upon themselves.

One day, Spot had found that his skin had uncomfortably dried out, so he put a small amount of Vaseline (yes that existed in 1899 google it) on his arm. If he hadn't done this, maybe things would have been different. But most knew this was coming. His father, mad about something or other, tried to burn Spot's arm, only to find that he couldn't- his son's arm wouldn't burn.

Spot didn't think anything of it when his Father brought him to what he called a "get together" that night... he found it strange that they chose to hold it in a forest quite a distance away, but knew better than to ask. He fell asleep on the way there. He was only awoken when a gag was shoved in his mouth and rocks- heavy, crushing ones- began falling onto his back. He heard the cracks and horrible sounds his bones were making- unfortunately he was conscious to hear most of them.

His father, a part of one of these firm groups of believers, believed his own son was a witch, and that he'd casted a spell to prevent his skin from burning. He was the one to drop the last rock, right onto Spot's face.

-

In death, Spot rarely takes off his mask, since the rock to his face disfigured it a slight amount. And he still flinches everytime Race's cigar accidentally gets too close to him, or when Albert collects rocks and brings them back to their home. He still hears his father's voice every once in a while scolding him for not being with a woman or focusing on getting a wife... and sometimes he almost believes that his father was right. He always comes back to his senses though, after an hour or two. In death he built up the reputation of a king, a legend, the one he couldn't achieve in life. And he accepts the treatment he knows even his father would be jealous of, because that's all he was raised to want.

Not even Race and Spot know the story of how he died. Neither does anyone else... and I trust you won't tell them. Or, I at least hope you won't. Where there's a king, there's an army.... and I know two very brutal individuals who know very well how to fight, and would go after you the minute Spot sheds a single tear. Best be careful.

[doomhands-jr]

Devil's Advocate - Chapter 1

Pairing: Taehyung x reader Pastor's Daughter/Delinquent college AU

Summary:

Your father has always instilled in you the ideas of what a good, God-fearing woman should be. Humble. Steadfast. Pure. A beacon for lost souls. You knew that going to a secular university would bring temptations, but you were adamant that you would not stray from the path. 

That is, until your father had you witness to campus delinquent Kim Taehyung. Charming and devilishly charismatic, Taehyung makes you question everything you thought you knew about what a “good” woman should be. 

If you missed the prologue it's here.

Masterlist

Rating: Mature Warnings: Mentions of drinking, sex, drugs, partying, etc. Nothing major in this chapter. Future smut. ________________

Chapter 1:

“Why would someone do something like that?” you asked, staring down at the picture on your phone.  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you dad’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I can only guess that he’s clearly lost and hurting.”  You stared once again at the photo displayed across your screen. A black, horned figure stared back at you with the letters HAIL SATA scrawled in red underneath. At least they didn’t finish the last word. Could someone go to Hell for saying that? You weren’t sure. It made you uncomfortable though. 

You didn’t like to think about anyone going to Hell. Suffering for eternity with no way out? A lifetime of being burned alive? Your throat started to close up and you knew you had to stop thinking about it too much or you would have an anxiety attack. That happened sometimes when you thought about Hell too much. It’s why you always tried to make sure you were on the right side of the Bible. 

“Do they know who did it?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Caught him trying to scale a fence. The paint on his forefinger matched the colors on the wall. He spent the night in custody. They’re asking if I want to press charges.” 

“Do you?” you asked. 

“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to negotiate his sentence. Some community service would do him some good, don’t you think?”  “I suppose,” you mentioned, not sure where your dad was going with this.  “I need you to monitor it.” 

“Monitor what?” you said, not quite putting two and two together. 

“The community service. Are you listening?” 

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, shaking your head rid of the thoughts that had crept in. You’d started thinking about Hell again. “Why me?” you asked.  “Because I trust you,” he said. You groaned internally. “I need you to witness to this boy. He’s a lost soul and needs to be brought to the Lord. It’s only for a few weeks. Saturday mornings from eight to noon. I know you can do that.” 

You sighed. Your father always did this. You were tired of the guilt trips, but they still worked every time. Besides, what’s more important to you? Sleeping in on Saturdays or someone’s eternal fate? You were being selfish.  “Fine, but I want a leadership role at the youth center this year.” 

“Done. I’ll call you later with more details. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

You slumped forward. There goes the rest of your Saturday mornings. They were the only day out of the week you actually got to sleep in, since you had Church every Sunday morning. 

At least you’d be working closely with Noah during the week. You melted a little even thinking about him. 

He was the praise and worship leader for the campus youth group, and the most attractive man you’d ever seen. You’d kissed last summer during a game of truth or dare among the rest of the staff at the summer camp, but haven’t made progress on that front since. 

You sighed and fell back into bed, acknowledging that this was likely your only opportunity to sleep in for a while, allowing your thoughts to stay on Noah and go as far as you could before it turned to lust (a sin).

----

The chilly mid-October wind sent shivers coursing through you. Three weeks had passed since your dad had informed you that you’d be conducting community service. It was 7:56 AM and you were standing, clipboard in hand, next to the marred wall of the youth center, waiting for the delinquents to show up. 

Delinquents, plural. Apparently, they caught the guy’s accomplice with the help of security footage.  

“Excuse me, am I in the right place?” 

You looked up from the clipboard to see a young man with a friendly smile. 

“Name?” you asked.

“Park Jimin,” he answered. You looked down at your clipboard and wrote the time next to his name. 

Park Jimin had swishy blonde hair that partially obscured his forehead. He’d ran his hands through it three different times since introducing himself, so it was messy on top, but in a way that let you know that he knew it was attractive. He didn’t look much like a delinquent. At least not the kind you’d pictured in your head.

You weren’t sure what exactly you were expecting. Tattoos? Shabby clothes? Piercings? Jimin had piercings, but only on his ears, which was fairly normal these days. Even Noah had pierced ears. 

Jimin wore a pair of black jeans with a black hoodie and a denim jacket overtop. So okay, maybe he could fit the role of “delinquent” but you wouldn’t guess it just by meeting him once. 

“Good. Okay yes, you’re in the right place. Do you know where the other guy is?” you asked. 

“Taehyung? Not sure. He should be here soon though. He knew we had this today.”  It was 7:59. You had to report him to your father if he wasn’t there by 8:00. You sighed. Was it so hard for people to be on time? You arrived to everything at least five minutes early and had no problem with it. It irked you whenever people blatantly disregarded rules, but you supposed you could have expected so much from someone who vandalizes houses of worship for fun. In your mind, that was just mean. 

Your father characterized him as someone who was just sad and hurting. And maybe he was, but really, he was just a jerk. 

When he still hadn’t arrived at 8:10, you realized he probably wasn’t going to and determined that there was no sense wasting time. 

“Okay Jimin. You see the buckets and sponges over there? Grab a sponge and start scrubbing.” 

“Aye,” he answered and walked off. He was much more chipper than you’d have expected for a criminal. But then again, Jesus hung out with criminals, so they couldn’t be all bad. 

You didn’t talk much. Jimin got to work quickly and you observed, not knowing what else to do. A semi-awkward silence fell between the two of you and you busied yourself flipping through the pages on your clipboard. 

It had all the rules and regulations you needed to follow, as well as the schedule for the next twelve weeks. Jimin and Taehyung were to report to each location by 8:00 AM sharp. Failure to do so would mean another week of community service tacked on to the end of the program. They could potentially shorten their sentence if they demonstrated punctuality and good behavior, but not before they’d scrubbed and painted the wall they’d vandalized. 

You’d read through all the instructions several times, yet you still had a feeling you were underprepared for this. Were you really just supposed to watch them? Or were you supposed to help them, too? You deliberated for a while until a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts. 

“I’m here for my community service?” 

You were greeted by a mop of messy black hair hiding a pair of dark, indifferent eyes. He wore a black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and matching black jeans with rips on the knees. He wasn’t dressed all too different than his counterpart Jimin, but something about the way he carried himself made you suspect that he wasn’t all too concerned with other people’s feelings.  “Taehyung?” you asked.  He nodded. You checked the time. 8:42. 

“You’re forty-two minutes late,” you said. He blinked, but didn’t respond any further. “Which means I’ll have to report this.” 

He shrugged. “So report it.” 

You were a bit taken aback by his attitude. It was a stark contrast to Jimin’s friendliness. But then again, you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting. 

“Well, grab a sponge and get to work, I guess.” 

He did exactly that, wordlessly taking his place beside his accomplice. Together they scrubbed, not making much progress overall. It took them the entire session to reach a state where some of the graffiti could be painted over. That would have to wait for next week, though. 

“That’s all the time we have for this session,” you said once it had reached noon. “See you next week.”  Without even saying bye or offering to help clean up the supplies, Taehyung dropped his sponge and walked away. Jimin was a little kinder, telling you he’d see you next week and placing his sponge back in the bucket. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be,” you muttered to yourself, and got to work cleaning up the supplies. 

----

“So what was it like?” your friend Ava asked. 

You shrugged in response. “ I don’t know. They’re delinquents,” you said. “One of them was fine, I guess. The other was a bit of a jerk. But it was just kind of boring, really. They didn’t talk much. I just kind of watched them work.” 

“A jerk how?” she asked. You could tell she was desperate for more information. She’d been hoping to hear an exciting story about how “bad kids” acted, and you got where she was coming from. You’d always been curious, too. 

The church elders (your parents included) had always warned you about who to befriend and who to stay away from. These bad kids who go out drinking every night and get themselves into bad situations. In their stories, they always end up addicted to drugs and feeling lost with God in their lives. These were the people who needed to be witnessed to. But how were you supposed to tell them about God if you were supposed to avoid them?  It was all very confusing to you. 

Both Ava and you had grown up entirely within the church community. Both of you had gone to private school, and while there were definitely some people there who were more misbehaved than the two of you, there were no real bad kids. 

The biggest scandal you’d seen is when you found out Jason Carver had sex with his girlfriend. Which, admittedly, was a pretty big scandal because you were under the impression that everyone in that school had taken their purity vows seriously. 

You couldn’t fathom what possessed Jason to commit such an outright sin. You were sure Jesus would forgive him, but seriously. What was he thinking? 

Although the boys hadn’t been given quite as many purity talks as the girls had. Each of the girls in the school were given a silver ring called a “promise ring” signifying your promise to stay pure until marriage. There was a whole big ceremony, too. Getting your promise ring was a huge deal in school. It was basically a coming-of-age ceremony. 

You fiddled with the silver ring still on your finger. Ava had a matching one. You two had also made a friend pact where you’d both stay virgins until marriage. Though you weren’t sure how that would work out, because both of you had plans to marry Noah and both of you were stubborn enough to hold out for him. 

Regardless, the church community was pretty close-knit, and neither of you had interacted much with people who didn’t follow the same code of conduct. You could tell Ava was fascinated by the idea but so far, nothing too exciting had happened. 

“Both of them drink alcohol though,” you mentioned. “I overheard them talking about a party they’d gone to the previous Friday, and Taehyung had mentioned he was really hungover and that’s why he’d woken up late.” He said this only to Jimin, not to you. 

“Wow. I wonder what that’s like.” 

“Ava!” You scolded. 

“Oh, whatever. Jesus himself drank wine,” and you just shrugged, because you didn’t have an argument for that. She was right. You supposed drinking didn’t go against the Bible. Just the rules your parents had laid out for you. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late to practice,” she said. “Maybe we’ll get to see Noah.” 

You picked up your pace. 

----

Noah was indeed there, looking very Jesus-like with his long hair in a bun on top of his head and his scruffy face. You supposed that might have been what drew you to him in the first place. He wore loose-fitting jeans slung low on his waist, a pair of Birkenstock sandals, and a plain white V-neck tight across his chest. He had a silver cross necklace that matched the silver purity ring. 

Noah was impossible not to fall for. He played guitar in the worship band, had the voice of an angel, and really practiced what he preached. So much so that it had been him to stop your kiss from progressing last summer, saying he didn’t want to do anything with you that either of you would regret.  

A man who protects your purity rather than challenges it? What could be hotter? 

“Okay, let’s run through ‘He Reigns’ again,” said Noah, and he began to strum out the opening lines. Ava was on keys, Darian was on drums, and Josh played bass. You and Noah sang. 

It’s the song of the redeemed

Rising from the African plain. 

It’s the song of the forgiven

Drowning out the Amazon rain.

You launched into a harmony with Noah. This was one of your all-time favorite worship songs. You loved harmonizing with him. Your voices blended together so perfectly that the act felt almost intimate. Sometimes you’d hit a really beautiful note and you and Noah would lock eyes and it felt like you were singing to each other. 

Every night before bed, you prayed that God would bring the two of you together. And perhaps if you were good enough, he would answer those prayers, so you also prayed that He would be with you to help you not sin as much. Anything to improve your chances. 

-----

Taehyung was not thinking about his community service tomorrow. Six beers deep, he was only thinking of how he could see Madison Lewis’s nipples through her silky white shirt and that he’d like to wrap his lips around them if he could. 

Madison hasn’t let him hit it in a while. Not that he was desperate. He’s had plenty of women since her, and will have plenty of women in the future. But she was always a particularly good fuck. Something about how unashamedly loud she moaned his name—especially when there were people just outside the bedroom door—really sent him. 

She’d been making eyes at him all night, and he had a feeling tonight would be his chance if he played his cards right. 

He kept his distance from her. She liked to play hard to get but didn’t want someone that simped for her too hard. He’d have to find his moment. If he knew her well enough, she’d get tired of the charade and present an opening to him, and then he’d move in for the kill. 

That’s what set Madison apart. Taehyung was a hunter. He had no problem getting laid on a regular basis, but most women made it too easy. He barely had to show them attention for them to be practically throwing themselves at him. A good fuck is a good fuck, but he preferred a challenge. 

Not that she would be super challenging, but at least she understood the game. Fucking her was like playing chess. There was strategy involved and she knew how to hold her own. The better he played, the more rewarding she’d be. She was reliable in that way. 

Plus, she was one of the only women who knew what it was. She didn’t linger. She got in and got out without trying to pretend it was something it wasn’t—or worse, trying to force it into something it was never meant to be. 

Too many times, he’d bang a girl who had played it cool with him at first, only to get obsessed and practically stalk him afterwards until he was forced to tell her he wasn’t interested. Whoever it was would cry and make him out to be the asshole, when he had been up-front about what he wanted from the beginning. For some reason, they always believe they were going to be the one to change him. They never were. 

And okay, he might be an asshole in the fact that he always knows which of them will get clingy. By now, he’s had enough experience to tell. They come on too strong. They give him too many openings, worrying that he somehow didn’t understand what they were trying to communicate if he responded the first time. He got the hint. He just wasn’t interested.  

At least he wasn’t interested if there were still other options available. If he got to the end of the night and all the good options had been taken, he’d throw them a bone and give them a good time, fully knowing that he was in for a week or two of headaches after they realized that he wasn’t going to suddenly fall in love.

Madison caught his eye and gave him a once-over. He was in. She turned to climb the stairs, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she walked and he followed, taking one last swig of his drink before setting it down on a nearby table and following her up. 

----

“Any idea where he is?” you asked Jimin. 

It was 8:07 and Taehyung still hadn’t shown up yet. Jimin shrugged. “I was with him at Jungkook’s party last night, but he disappeared and didn’t come back to our place. My guess is with Madison.”  “I don’t know any of those people,” you said. 

Jimin laughed, showing a charmingly crooked front tooth. “No, I guess you wouldn’t.” 

“Why is he going out partying if he knows he has community service in the morning?” you asked. 

Jimin chuckled as he pried the lid off the paint can. “I’m guessing you don’t get out much.” 

“What do you mean by that?” you asked. 

“Have you been to a party before?” 

“Sure.” 

“I mean one with alcohol,” he deadpanned. You blushed. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Why do you ask?”

“Because if you’ve been to a party, you’d understand why we go even if we have to get up early. That’s the fun of it. You get drunk. You hook up. You meet new people and you suffer the consequences because that’s what life is about.” 

“Life is about more than just partying.” 

“Something tells me you could use a bit of fun,” he replied. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said, offended. 

“Nothing,” he said, now pouring the paint into the tray and swiping his blonde hair across his face. “Just that you seem a little uptight is all.” 

You wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but you didn’t want to prove him right by getting upset about it, so you said nothing. 

Jimin sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean for this to become a whole thing. I was just teasing.” 

“I’m not upset,” you said, albeit defensively.

“Clearly.” 

You sat with his comment for a moment. 

“I have fun,” you said. 

Jimin smiled to himself. “I’m sure you have plenty of fun.” 

“I do!” you protested. “Just not the kind of fun that ends up in having to do a semester of community service.” 

He chuckled again, the smile not once having left his face. 

“Say what you want, but you and I are both roped into this for the next eleven weeks.” 

You didn’t have a response to that. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you heard from behind you. You looked up and saw Taehyung panting. “In my defense I didn’t know that being late meant serving more time.” 

“You just thought there wouldn’t be consequences?” you asked. He shrugged, removing his hood. A deep purple bruise had appeared on the side of his neck. 

“Shit,” said Jimin and gave a low whistle. “Madison?” 

Taehyung grinned and nodded. 

“Good for you, man.” 

“I’ll remind you that we’re on church grounds. Please watch your language,” you said. 

Taehyung and Jimin shared a look that you knew was meant to mock you, but you were adamant. They could behave however they wanted on the own time, but this was your time. 

“We were just talking about how Saint Mary over here could use a little fun,” said Jimin as he handed Taehyung a paint roller. 

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically. “My name isn’t Mary.” 

“Might as well be,” said Jimin. 

At that Taehyung snickered. “Why does he think you could use more fun?” asked Taehyung. 

“He’s judging me because I’ve never been to a drinking party.” 

“A drinking party?” asked Taehyung. “Did you hear that, Jimin? A drinking party!” he said, clutching at his chest in mock scandalization.  

“Again, you are literally both serving community service right now. I don’t think you’re the right judge for what kind of fun I should be having.” 

Taehyung didn’t speak for a second, then held out his hand for you to shake. “Alright, I’ll give you that.” 

“Thanks,” you said, shaking his hand. 

“So do you actually attend this church?” he said. 

“Every Sunday,” you said. “And by the way, thanks for vandalizing it. Not like it’s an important place to me or anything.” 

“I stand by what I did,” said Taehyung. 

“Sorry Mary,” said Jimin. “Won’t do it again.” 

“Again, my name isn’t Mary. And don’t think I’m going to let you off easily. It’s because of you two that I’m roped into doing this for the next however many weeks.” 

“Why’d you get stuck with this? They aren’t paying you?” 

“No,” you replied, pointing to the wall to refocus them on the task at hand. They picked up on the hint and started working again. “My dad’s the pastor at the church that sponsors this youth center.” 

“Oh,” said Taehyung, eyebrows disappearing up under his fringe. His expression turned unreadable. “So you’re a pastor’s daughter?” 

“Tae,” Jimin said, soft but stern. They shared a look you couldn’t decipher and you sensed the tone of the conversation had shifted to one you weren’t familiar with. Jimin looked serious. You couldn’t determine what expression was on Taehyung’s face. Something hung in the air between the two of you and you had a sneaking suspicion you weren’t going to like it. 

-----

“A pastor’s daughter!” Taehyung repeated when they got back to their shared apartment. 

“Don’t even think about it,” said Jimin. 

“A pastor’s daughter, though.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Whyyyyy?” Taehyung whined. 

“For one, I have to spend the next ten weeks with her. So if you fuck her over, guess who has to hear about it? Me. And second of all, you could never. That chick is so prude she wouldn’t open her legs for Jesus himself.” 

Taehyung laughed at the imagery. “She’s kind of cute though, in a mousy, goody-two-shoes, kind of way.” 

“Taehyung, I am begging you. Do not make this some sort of mission to bed her. There are enough prude women out there that offer whatever kind of challenge you’re looking for. Leave this one alone.” 

But Taehyung had already started fantasizing about what you looked like under your high-necked sweater. Not only would this be a major challenge for him, it would be the ultimate fuck-you to the church. Sleeping with the pastor’s daughter? Taking her virginity? Corrupting the innocent? How could he say no to that?  

And beyond that, he actually had some level of sympathy for you. Clearly you were raised in a household where you had to subscribe to that shit. You probably never even questioned your devotion to this made-up religion. You’d never been to a party. You definitely had never gone past first base with anyone. You lived life with such rigidity and fear of wrongdoing that you probably never let yourself stray from that tightrope. 

All that pent-up self-control? He could only imagine what the release of it would be like. 

In his mind, he’d be doing you a disservice by not exposing you to the other side. 

-----

“I want to go to a drinking party,” Ava whined. 

“Are you serious?” 

“What? It sounds like fun. We don’t have to drink. We could just go and have a good time and stay sober.” 

“Am I the only one who doesn’t want to risk getting an underage?” The two of you were headed to the World History class you shared on Mondays. She’d been prying you for more information on “the bad boys” as she called them. “And you really want to come home smelling like weed and booze and whatever else happens at those parties?” 

“Sex?” 

“Ava!” 

“I just want to know what life is like on the other side is all.” 

You sighed. “We don’t need to know what it’s like on the other side. It’s probably just a bunch of idiots getting sloppy drunk and grinding on each other.” 

Ava laughed. “You’re so judgy! God won’t send us to Hell for attending one party.” 

“I know,” you said, though your throat tightened infinitesimally at the mention of it, because really, who could know for sure? God could be testing you.  

“Just promise me, if they invite you to one, you’ll bring me along?” 

You laughed. “I doubt they’ll invite me to one. They seem like they already have all the friends they want.” 

“You never know!” she said. 

“True.” 

Part of you was also curious about what happened at these parties that made them so fun that Taehyung and Jimin still went even when they had to get up early, but another part of you wondered if this was His way of testing your commitment to determine if you were worthy of Noah. 

If it was a test, what would you need to do to pass? 

-----

“You’re on time,” you said. 

“Yeah, who’d have thought?” Taehyung replied. It was 7:48, and he had gone home early from Jungkook’s party last night, without a girl in tow, in order to get ready for his community service.

“Is Jimin with you?” you asked. 

“He should be here soon. He was showering when I left.” 

“Okay. Well, I guess we should get back to work.”  Painting was finished last week, so this week, Jimin and Taehyung were to rake the leaves that had fallen on the ground and in the parking lot. Taehyung got to work immediately and without complaint. 

“How was your weekend?” he asked. 

“It was good. Yours?” 

“Good, good. Tried taking some of your advice and left the party early last night. Didn’t even get that drunk.” 

Had you misjudged Taehyung? He had seemed so cold to you at first, but he’d already become much friendlier than he had been that first week. 

You laughed. “Already turning over a new leaf, huh? I knew you’d see the light.” 

“Something like that,” he said. “Did you go to church?” 

You had a feeling there was something hiding behind that question, but you decided to entertain him. 

“I did. Why?” 

He shrugged, continuing to watch himself work rather than look at you while he spoke. “No reason.” 

“Okay then,” you said, guarded. 

“Do you go every week?” he asked after a few more moments. 

“I do.” 

“And do you like it?” he asked. 

“Why are you asking all these questions? You thinking of giving your life to God?” You meant it to be teasing, but it came out more bitter than you intended. 

He smiled to himself. “Just curious as to what you get from it. Why you’re so devoted.” 

“It’s not all rules and restrictions, you know,” you said, feeling yourself growing more defensive. “It can actually be kind of fun, and pretty meaningful too.” 

“If you say so,” he said. “I just don’t see the fun in being told how to live.” 

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” you said. “I like having some guidelines to live by.” 

He simply shrugged and went back to raking. You fell into an uncomfortable silence. 

“It’s not like that all the time,” you continued after a while, watching him rake leaves into a modest pile. “There’s a lot of encouragement. And it can be really rewarding to devote yourself to a greater cause.” 

“Seems like a cult to me.” 

“It’s not a cult.” 

You’d heard the arguments from people before, especially online. Every Atheist you’ve ever talked to does this same dance. They are upset that you believe in something they don’t like, and react by trying to disprove God. Each of them brings up their own version of the same argument, all thinking that they, in their brilliance, have somehow got it all figured out and can change your opinion. They never can. 

Newsflash, nobody in the history of forever has ever been able to prove or disprove the existence of God. You either believe or you don’t. And you believed. 

“I just can’t get over the whole sex thing,” he said after a while. 

It took you a few moments to register what he had said. When you did, you inhaled sharply through your nose. Nobody in your social circle ever talked about sex openly, aside from saying how they wouldn’t have sex before marriage. You sensed this conversation could be a dangerous one, but he had your curiosity.  

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, you’re not allowed to have sex, right?” 

“Not until marriage,” you said. 

“How do you live like that? I could never.” 

On the surface level, there was a part of you that was aware that most people in the secular world did not actually wait for marriage, but because you’d been mostly confined to your immediate social circle, you hadn’t actually conversed with someone who was so openly comfortable with talking about sex. You were both intrigued and so far out of your comfort zone that you struggled to keep up. 

“I avoid tempting situations,” you said, noticing it was more difficult now to hide the smile that insisted on growing. You liked this topic, you realized. And that scared you enough that you couldn’t look him in the eye and instead opted for staring at a spot on the ground. 

“How do you not get into tempting situations?” 

“I don’t know. I just…don’t?” 

This seemed to spark something in Taehyung. “Do you just…not think about it? What happens when you’re talking to an attractive guy?” 

“What do you mean? I just talk. I mean sure, I might get giddy or nervous, but I don’t like…I don’t know,” you trailed off. “What happens to you when you talk to an attractive woman?” 

“I honestly don’t know if I should tell you, sweet child. It might be too much for your virgin ears.” 

“Gross,” you said. 

Taehyung threw his head back into a big belly laugh. “I can’t help it! I love women. They’re so beautiful and…just…sexy.” He said this while drawing a set of hourglass curves with his hands. 

“Okay, but can’t you admire them without lusting?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. That’s asking me not to breathe. What’s the point? I’m not interested in being a masochist.” 

You leaned against the brick building and crossed your arms, sizing him up. 

“You’re not afraid of the consequences?” 

He faced you, leaning on his rake. “Consequences? Like STDs or pregnancy? I’m not an idiot. I use protection.” 

“No, I mean. Like. Aren’t you afraid of going to Hell?” 

“Hell?” he asked, bewildered. “You believe in that?”  

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “Yeah,” you answered. “Don’t you?” 

“No!” he said. “I always thought it was something that adults made up to scare children into behaving.” 

“It could be real.”

“Doubt it,” he said. “And if it was, I think it would take a lot more than a few fucks to wind up there. That being said,” he shrugged, and went back to raking, “a life without sex seems pretty hellish to me.” 

“What’d I miss?” It was Jimin, out of breath from having jogged to where you were. You looked at your watch. 8:05. 

“Nothing. You’re late.” 

“Sorry,” he said with his Cheshire cat-like grin. You imagined this grin has gotten him out of trouble numerous times. 

“Better get to work,” you said. He nodded and went to grab a rake. You thought about not reporting his tardiness, but ultimately decided that consequences were probably what these boys needed more than anything. 

-----

“Ladies and gentlemen, there is a war going on. And it’s not a war of the physical realm. No, it’s a war for the soul of the world,” Pastor Jeremy said, in his stern but somber preacher voice. 

This was a common theme for sermons. How there is a constant and ongoing battle for the soul of the world, and how Satan and his army are using every tool in their belt to corrupt the hearts of the innocent. 

“It is our job,” he continued, “to make sure the devil doesn’t win.” 

A message of evangelism. According to many pastors, it was each of our responsibility to save the souls of everyone else. Church goers do this through all sorts of methods. Missions trips were popular. You’d been on one to Guatemala when you were in high school. A group of students went down to build schools and teach other kids about the gospel. 

But lately something had been bugging you about this kind of message. Because what if Taehyung was right, and Hell didn’t exist? What if it was just something adults told to children to scare them into behaving? 

And furthermore, did that mean that your faith was only present because you were afraid of going to Hell? What would your relationship with God look like if you didn’t fear that fate? Would you have one at all? 

These questions weighed on you heavily. 

“Hey,” said Noah, nudging you with his elbow. The sermon had ended, and you’d gotten up and started walking out along with everyone else without fully realizing what you were doing. You, Noah, and a few other students from the campus ministry usually went out for lunch after church on Sundays. 

“Hey,” you said, falling into stride with him as he walked into the foyer. 

“What’s up?” he asked. “You seemed a little distracted today.” 

It was odd of Noah to comment on your demeanor. You weren’t used to him paying enough attention to you to mention anything. 

“Oh. Maybe I was. I didn’t notice.” 

He put his hands in his front pockets and leaned his weight on one hip. He looked good in this pose, and it was possible he knew that. 

“Anything on your mind?” he asked. 

You shrugged. “Not that I can think of.” 

Noah seemed to notice the difference in your mood. Normally, you’d be the one asking him all the questions in an attempt to connect. 

“I know what it is,” said Ava, sidling up to the two of you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Or should I say who.” 

“Ava,” you warned.

“Who?” asked Noah, his interest piqued. 

You sighed in frustration. Ava, for as good of a friend she was, loved involving herself in drama and jumped at the chance to involve everyone else, too. 

“Oh, just a certain delinquent,” she said in a teasing lilt. 

You didn’t know why you even told Ava about the conversation you’d had with Taehyung. You’d like to think she wouldn’t use that information to her advantage, but she hadn’t always been the most reliable friend. Truly, she was as much a friend because of circumstance as she was a friend because you shared any solid connection. 

Few people understood what it was like to grow up in a church and be sent to a Christian school. Your graduating class only had fifteen people. You connected with Ava the most out of everyone, but that didn’t mean you trusted her very much. 

And you were right to be hesitant, considering she was currently repeating your private conversation to Noah simply to gain his attention. 

“Is that so?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “And who is this delinquent?” 

“You’ll have to ask her dad about that one.” 

“I’m not listening to this,” you said. “I have sleep I need to catch up on. I’ll see you guys later.” 

Truthfully, it was just an excuse to get away from them and clear your head. As much as you usually craved opportunities to spend time with Noah, you were not feeling it today. 

Ava was right. You were distracted because of a certain delinquent, and you couldn’t pretend that you weren’t. There was just something about him you couldn’t get out of your head. 

Perhaps this was Jesus telling you that you needed to spend more time with him. Perhaps maybe you’d be the one to guide him towards the light? 

On the other hand, it could be temptation from the enemy. In which case, you needed to guard your heart. 

The only way to know for sure was to pray about it, which you had been doing in earnest, but there was still no clear answer in front of you. 

-----

“So I have a theory,” Taehyung said softly as he took a break from vacuuming the carpet of the worship center. Jimin was across the room, headphones in and head bobbing as he dusted the backs of the chairs. 

“And what is that?” 

“Okay, so it’s possible that you magically just have an inhuman amount of self-control, and I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’m willing to bet that it’s more likely you just haven’t been tested.” 

“Taehyung, what are you talking about?” you asked. 

He placed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. 

“Our conversation last week,” he said.

“Okay, and?” 

“You say it’s not hard for you to avoid tempting situations, but I imagine you probably don’t get into many with the crowd you run with. Like, have you ever even kissed a guy?” 

“Why is that any of your business?” you said. 

He took the tiniest side-step closer to you. “Just making conversation.” 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide whether or not to play whatever his game was. On the one hand, it really wasn’t any of his business. That being said, you were interested to see where he was going to go with this. 

“Okay, I’ll bite. I have kissed before.” 

“One of the church guys?” he asked, shifting his body to face you more. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “At summer camp last year.” 

“Who initiated?” 

“He did, but we’d been flirting all summer before then.”  “And when was this? What happened? Paint me a verbal picture.” Taehyung was visibly interested, shifting his weight from converse-clad foot to converse-clad foot as he looked at you expectantly. You had to admit that it was kind of cute. 

“It was late August,” you said. “Like I said, he and I had been flirting all summer. It was the last night of camp, and all of the counselors were having an end-of-year party.” 

“You were a counselor? Oh man, this is too good.” 

“What does me being a counselor have anything to do with it?” you asked. 

“Nothing. Keep going.” 

You rolled your eyes, thinking that you might not even want to know the reason. “So anyway, we take a walk down to the beach. The sun had already set by that point and it was a new moon, so we could barely see anything. We get down to the beach and decide to go for a nighttime swim.” 

“Oh, damn,” he said. 

“Language,” you said. “We are in a house of God.” 

He made the sign of the cross and put his hands together in mock prayer. “Forgive me. Go on.” 

You had to admit, it felt good to have someone hanging on your every word like this, even if his motives were less than ideal. 

“Okay. So don’t get too excited. We were still wearing our bathing suits under our clothes from the beach game tournament we’d had with the campers earlier that day. But we get in the water, and he’s like ‘where are you?’ because we couldn’t see anything, and I reached out my hand. He took it and pulled me close and wrapped his arms around me. Then he said he really enjoyed hanging out with me this summer and asked if he could kiss me.” 

“He asked? Ugh.” He scoffed. 

“What’s wrong with that? It was sweet. He respected me.” 

“It was weak,” Taehyung said. “No wonder nothing else happened.” 

“What do you mean by that?” you said, crossing your arms. You had appreciated that Noah cared about getting consent before he kissed you. 

“I don’t know how to explain this concept,” he said, resting his hand on his chin, “but it’s like, a guy who asks to kiss a woman is kind of a coward. When you really want to kiss someone, you just do it and risk getting shot down.” 

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I always thought it was like, a sign that a guy respects you.” 

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “It means he’s afraid of rejection. A guy who respects you reads your body language. He’d know whether or not you want to kiss him because he’d pay attention to how you’re acting. You wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.” 

“Huh,” you said, processing what he had said. You’d never considered it like that before, but looking back, you had put in a lot of work dropping hints to Noah, going as far as to make it obvious that you were into him. 

“How was the kiss?” he said. 

“It was nice.” 

Taehyung slapped his thigh and barked out a laugh. 

“So it sucked.” 

“What? No! It was really nice.” 

“Trust me,” he said. “If it would have been a good kiss, you wouldn’t describe it as ‘nice.’” 

“I don’t know if I agree with you,” you said. “I think a kiss can just be nice sometimes.” 

“Yeah, if you’re an old married couple maybe. But it just goes to show that you’ve never actually been properly kissed. And that you don’t know true temptation.” 

“I don’t think I like this conversation anymore,” you said. “It feels like you’re making fun of me.” 

“I might be, just a little bit,” he said. You bristled. “And I’m sorry,” he finished. “I don’t mean to be making fun of you. I just think you’re missing out on some really important life experiences. And frankly, it’s a shame that the men in your life have failed you so terribly.” 

You softened a bit. “I don’t like being mocked. This is something I’m sensitive about. Truthfully, I did wish the kiss would have been a little bit more…I don’t know,” you trailed off. 

“Passionate?” he offered. 

“Yeah. I’d dreamed my whole life of my first kiss, and when it finally happened, it was exciting because it was Noah, but—,” 

He perked up. “Noah?”

You hadn’t meant to say his name. 

“Pretend I didn’t say that.” 

“Does Noah go here?” he asked. 

“Taehyung, please. I don’t want any drama.” 

“I promise I won’t say anything. I’m just curious.” 

“I’m not telling you anything else about him,” you said. “All you need to know is that he kissed me. It was okay. And then he stopped because he didn’t want to get tempted.” 

Taehyung made a face when you said that last part, and you knew there was something behind it, but you didn’t want to ask. He would just make fun of you again, you were sure.

“All done!” called Jimin from across the room. “Want me to start on the windows?” he asked.

“That would be great, actually,” you called over. “Take Taehyung with you.” 

Jimin gave you a thumbs up. Taehyung shifted his weight again, looking like he wanted to say something else, but you nodded towards Jimin to signal that he should get back to work. He got the hint and left you alone with your thoughts. 

You sat on the steps leading up to the alter and crossed your arms over your knees, resting your chin on them. 

You were disappointed in the kiss, you realized. Taehyung was right, and you hadn’t even noticed until now. After that night, you and Noah hadn’t spoken about it again. It was as if it had never happened. 

You had always surmised you were just better at self-control than your secular peers, but what if that wasn’t true? What if Taehyung was right about the rest too, and you were missing out on all these important experiences? 

You supposed that was a good thing. After all, it could get you in a lot of trouble and lead you down a bad road. But then again, how were you supposed to resist temptation in the future if you had no experience with it? What would happen when something came along that did tempt you? How would you handle it? 

Did you even want to know?  

____ Author's note:

I'm Baaaaaaaaaack!

[justaghostingon]

Don't let your left hand know (what your right is doing)

A fic for Make the Exorcist Fall in Love because I am all caught up and losing my mind.

IN which Virgil and Father-kun meet earlier thanks to Dante.

A sick fic

Of all the ways to come face to face with the Child of Hope, Future Greatest Exorcist and defeater of the Lord of Lust, Virgil had not expected it to be while he was in an apron, balancing thirty odd tissue boxes in his arms. He knew Dante had taken on an apprentice, but in his rush to reach Dante's side after feeling his misery through their bond, he'd not realized that the new apprentice was that boy.

"This isn't what it looks like." He started. As if that would be enough to stop a kid as powerful as this one. Shit he hadn't even told any of the coven where he was going in his haste. Charlotte was going to kill him.

The Boy stared at him. "This is Master's room," He said.

"Oh yeah, I guess it is." Virgil said with an awkward laugh, unsure why they. were making small talk but not about to stop.

The Boy frowned. "Master is sleeping right now, so you can't clean. Please come back later."

Virgil blinked. Clean? Did this kid think he was room service? Here? in a hotel as shady as this? He'd be offended if he wasn't so relieved. A maid was leagues better than being seen for the witch he truly was. The last thing he wanted right now was to get in a fight. Not when Dante lay only a few feet away, shaking and shivering in his sleep.

"The church sent me," he lied. "I'm here to help nurse Dante back to health." In for a penny, in for a pound, or so the saying goes.

The boy looked vaguely puzzled, but did not protest when Virgil pushed his way into the room. Good. It seemed that for all his power, this kid was still just that, a kid, and easily lead astray by adults.

The room itself was a mess, with empty alcohol bottles and used tissues scattered across the floor. Virgil ignored them as he rushed to Dante's side, lying tangled in messy sheets with sweat gathered on his brow. His breathing was labored, and even asleep he seemed to still be coughing.

"Oh Dante," Virgil sighed, dropping the tissue boxes to brush a strand of hair from his sweat plastered forehead. He was burning up. "What have you done to yourself."

"He got sick yesterday," The boy said. Startling Virgil out of his trance. He pulled his hand away from Dante. The boy continued on, as if he hadn't noticed. "I got him to drink a bit at first, but he just wanted to sleep, my healing wasn't working so I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry." The boy looked down at his feet, shoulders drooping as if he expected Virgil to yell at him. Christ alive what had the church done to this poor kid?

"Did you create the common cold?" He asked.

The boy blinked. "Therefore also will I make thee sick in smiting thee, in making thee desolate because of thy sins, Micah 6:13."

Virgil blinked. Oh no. He was one of those. Virgil would love to tear his argument to shreds, to ask him what kind of loving god inflicted such pain or call him out on cherry picking verses, but if he was to pass a church member, he'd need to bite his tongue, at least until Dante was better.

"So you didn't create the common cold," He said instead.

"Technically sin did -"

"Did you create sin?"

"Well, Adam and Eve..."

"Are you claiming to be them?"

"No...but..."

"Then it's not your fault." Virgil waved a hand. "So don't sweat it. You did what you could." It was true, he realized, as he took a second look at the room. The floor was still a mess, but from the over flowing trash can the boy had clearly been trying to clean it. Dante's head was elevated with several pillows, and the other bed in the room had been stripped of blankets in favor of smothering Dante with them all. Most telling of all, a soft stuffed bear had been placed beside Dante. Virgil knew enough of Dante's tastes to know it wasn't his. Clearly the kid had been trying. He just didn't quite know what to do.

But that didn't matter. Virgil was here now. Everything would be fine. He rolled up his sleeves.

"Help me remove some of these blankets," he ordered the kid. "There are to many of them, and it's making him sweat."

"I'm sorry," the Boy said, looking if it was possible, even smaller.

Witches below, what was he going to do with this kid?

"You going to keep apologizing or are you going to help me?" Virgil asked. That seemed to wake the kid up a bit, and he hurried over to Virgil to help him remove some of the blankets. Not for the first time, Virgil wished he had taken the time to let his body finish growing before pausing it at the age of 18. But between him and the kid, they got it done.

Once Dante was no longer sweating quite so badly, Virgil turned to the boy. "Fetch me a bowl of water and a washcloth, but make sure the water is cool but not cold, got it?"

The boy sprang into action, hurrying quickly to the small bathroom, where the sound of running water could be heard. Once he was out of sight, Virgil began to whisper a few spells. He couldn't do anything to drastic obviously, not with the Child of Hope himself only a thin wall away. But he could open a quick portal to grab fever medication, and another to grab some food from the communal kitchen in their Coven.

He barely managed to grab a pot and some ingredients before the boy threw open the door again, hurrying out with a cheap plastic vase filled with water and a washcloth floating at the top. Clearly, he'd dumped the fake flowers out in the bathroom to fill it up. Clever given how little they had to work with in this dingy hotel.

"Here," The boy shoved the vase towards Virgil, only to stop when he noticed the pot. He blinked. "Did you always have that?"

"It was under the tissue boxes." Virgil lied, hoping the boy didn't think too hard about it. Hoping to redirect, he shoved the pot away and grabbed the vase. "Watch and learn."

Wringing the washcloth out of its excess water, Virgil began to gently dab Dante's face and neck. When he was certain he'd cooled most of his skin, he folded the cloth on Dante's forehead. The movements were simple, nothing difficult, but the boy watched Virgil's every move as if he were teaching the most complicated and dangerous of spells, the kind that would blow your brains out your ears if even the slightest mistake was made.

The weight of the kids gaze made Virgil's skin crawl. He was very glad the kid thought he was a nurse right now. He'd hate to be on the opposite side of an intensity like that in battle. This boy had defeated the Lord of Lust, what could he do to a simple witch like Virgil?

The things he did for Dante.

"That should be enough for now," Virgil said, stepping reluctantly away from Dante. "All that remains is to wait for him to wake, and get some medicines and fluid in him.

The boy looked at the pot, then back to Virgil. "Are we going to cook for him?" he asked in a soft voice, a spark of interest in his eyes.

Originally, Virgil had not in fact been intending to cook. He'd known Charolette had been planning a lovely soup for the coven, and had hoped to grab a bit and multiply it. The pot and handful of ingredients had merely been intended to throw the boy off his scent. But the boy's guarded hope stirred in Virgil's chest. He knew that look, too many new recruits held it in their eyes when they beheld the feasts of the coven. The hunger of those used to being denied.

Why he was getting that look from the Child of Hope of all people over cooking a simple meal was something he could not afford to focus on. It did not paint a very good picture of his treatment in the church. Not that Virgil had high hopes in the first place.

Oh what the hell. "Of course," he said with a smile. "You've just got to help me rig up a way to cook it."

A few minutes later, the pot was bubbling over a makeshift stove, held over a small candle by three iron crosses. It was not exactly safe, or even particularly legal, but it worked well enough, and if Virgil cast a covert spell or two to prevent the fire alarms from going off, that was for him to know and the boy to never find out.

The boy had completely taken over the cooking. Virgil wasn't certain how, but he made the scarce ingredients Virgil had grabbed blend together and produce a smell so delicious Virgil's certain even Lord Beelzebub would deem it exquisite.

The Child of Hope can cook, who knew?

Maybe this is what he should do with his life instead of working in the church. Given the small smile playing on the boy's lips, it would certainly make him happier. Virgil absently wondered if there was anyway he could convince him to leave, but no. If he'd never been able to convince Dante, what chance did he have to turn someone as devout as this kid?

Too bad. He'd have loved to see Charolette's reaction to having competition in the Coven's kitchen. Either they'd love each other instantly or it would be war, no in-betweens. All entertainment for him.

"We're almost done," he said instead as he helped the boy pour some of the soup into one of the paper coffee cups the hotel provided and place it on the table beside the sleeping Dante. "Just make sure he takes these fever reducers as well as some water, and that should be everything he needs."

He'd have to leave soon, a shame. He cast a longing look at Dante's sleeping face, soothed under the cool towel. If he had his way he'd stay until he knew for a fact Dante was back in good health, church and witches be damned. But there was no way Dante would keep his identity a secret from the boy should he wake and see Virgil, and Virgil didn't want to die today.

"These are illegal." The boy said, braking Virgil out of his musings.

"What?" Virgil blinked, genuinely taken aback. "No it isn't, I got it from a convenience store." One of them at least, somewhere in the world.

"This is Night-Quil." the boy repeated. "It's banned in this country. I remember because I had to take it out of my suitcase."

What country were they even in again? Virgil hadn't been paying attention when he'd portalled to Dante's side. He shrugged his shoulders. "It doesn't matter. It's legal back home, so it's fine. It's not going to hurt him."

"Whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves. Romans 13:2," the boy said, a frown on his face.

Virgil rolled his eyes. Great. They were back to quoting bible verses. Well, two could play at that game. "“Haven’t you read what David did when he and his companions were hungry? 4 He entered the house of God, and he and his companions ate the consecrated bread—which was not lawful for them to do, but only for the priests. 5 Or haven’t you read in the Law that the priests on Sabbath duty in the temple desecrate the Sabbath and yet are innocent? Matthew 12:3-5."

The boy shook his head. "That's about the Sabbath. It's a holy law. And the one you're quoting is Jesus himself. The sabbath was made to serve him, so it's not the same."

"Oh for the love of..." Virgil threw up his hands. "Look. Dante is sick. This medicine can help him. So I'm going to give it to him, and I'll be damned if anybody stops me, come hell or high water. Got it?"

"You're not from the church...are you?" The boy's eyes furrowed.

Looks like the game was up. Welp, Virgil tried. Behind his back, he positioned his hand to summon a portal. "No. I'm not."

"Lying is a sin." The boy crossed his arms.

Virgil blinked, taken a back. A laugh escaped him, then another and another, until he threw his head back at the force of them all. Louder and louder it echoed around them, but Virgil couldn't seem to stop himself. Of all the crimes he'd committed, all the sins he'd embraced, why was such a small thing that the boy took issue with? Was he truly this naive?

It was only when Dante began to stir that Virgil managed to stop, shoving a hand over his mouth to gag himself.

The boy stepped between Dante and Virgil, eyes on Virgil, body tense. Clearly preparing for a fight. Ready to defend his master.

And it was that which finally calmed Virgil down. "Does it matter that I lied? When all I've done is help?" Then he looked the boy in the eyes. "I would never hurt Dante." Even if Dante would definitely hurt him.

"Who are you?" the boy insisted, refusing to budge. "And what do you want with Master?"

"I told you already, I want to help. Can't you just accept me as someone who cares about Dante?"

"No."

"Very well," Virgil sighed, trying not to let his panic show. His portal would take a few more seconds to materialize. He needed to play for time. "I am an old friend who left the church a long time ago. Dante, bleeding heart that he is, has been trying to convince me to come back. So you see, it's nothing sinister at all. Just a bit awkward."

The boy did not look convinced. "You haven't given your name."

The portal finally roared to life and Virgil smiled, giddy with relief. "Me? Why I'm the witch Virgilius, of course!" He called out to the shocked face of the boy as he fell backward into the portal. Perhaps it was foolish to give his name to the child of hope, to bring any scrutiny on his and Dante's relationship onto his small shoulders, but Virgil couldn't help it. The look on the boy's face was priceless as he lunged for Virgil, only coming across empty air.

Dante had found himself an interesting apprentice, that was for sure. Virgil hoped for his sake the boy stuck around.

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 8 of Nona the Ninth and John 15:23

I wonder if this identifies you as a specific sort of person, or if radios are common? Hand-sized radios apparently exist, so it could just be a word they use to refer to something like a cell phone (which is a radio, after all), or if it's like our world where we only refer to a very specific subset of two-way radios as "radios" and using one of those probably makes people think you're a cop? Kind of impossible to tell with Nona as the viewpoint character

I love that we've got this story that's full of necromancy and animated corpses and giant space monsters and body sharing and body swapping and soul cannibalism and we still get this 1000% relatable experience with a dog, even if it is a dog with six legs. I guess it's the middle legs he sometimes keeps folded up?

So they have meetings with BOE, and Corona is there, but otherwise doesn't really see Nona, I guess probably because Pyrrha and Camilla and Palamedes don't consider her a friend anymore, but Corona was there when Nona first arrived

So, 15:23 is OW, so the message is now unexpectedly THE TOW instead of THE TOM like I would have guessed

So there were two separate events here - first John I guess discovered or unlocked or something general necromancy and his eyes turned gold, and that apparently affected his actual DNA in some way. Then he later achieved a form of Lyctorhood with Alecto and got her eyes instead. Only, I seem to remember that Ianthe didn't master preventing things from rotting until after she became a Lyctor. Maybe she just wasn't good at that beforehand, sort of like how Harrow just wasn't a master flesh magician? Or does that actually require Lyctor powers? And yeah, they obviously don't remember this if they didn't realize that Alecto's eyes were originally John's

The same Augustine who had Ianthe's bone arm gilded? Yeah, that sounds about right

Adam naming the animals vibes?

So she was a contract lawyer, yeah, that makes sense that she would put in a "break clause" for her House to leave the Empire if necessary

This is also something that I think is only a Lyctor power, and I don't think even Lyctors can feel dead bodies, can they? Or else Harrow would have known for sure whether or not Cytherea was under her bed. But John said he would have been able to feel Cytherea's body after he said it wasn't on the Mithraeum anymore. Come to think of it, I don't think we ever resolved why John thought he could do that but wasn't able to, because clearly Wake didn't go anywhere. Anyway, the thing with moving the bodies from the other side of the room is basic shit for regular necromancers, I think, but I think this, and possibly the keeping the bodies from rotting thing is advanced. So I'm not sure which specific powers/power level are associated with the gold eyes at this point

So Ulysses and Titania were already dead even before whatever happened to kill everyone, John never even knew them the first time they were alive. And he thought it would be cool to just randomly give them new names? And he named Ulysses after a dog? Look, I don't care how much you liked the dog, you don't name people after dogs, even if the dog was named after a person. They were his special bodies that he got attached to while doing his project, but he wasn't attached enough to their actual names to keep them?

[bonnielunkas]

" if you want me to be a bully... THEN I'LL BE A BULLY! "

hi yeah so uh. surprise!! i have an omori bteam au. uh omori spoilers under the read more where i explain the character roles and other stuff abt the au so like if you wanna check out omori this is where you stop reading, i will not be holding back on the details

so this au was made because i realized omori and the new kid have similar plots so i was like yeah fuck it uhhh. character reasonings and other stuff are shown below

devon - sunny / omori : devon's the main reason kelsey died in new kid, sunny kicked off what spiraled into mari's death in omori. idk what the accident here is but it sure did happen and devon sure did close himself off from everyone!! uh he doesn't go full hikikomori like sunny does but he stops being active in his friends' lives and lives off in his own little world

mick - basil : was compliant in keeping quiet about the death. granted, mick didn't really do anything physically to aid devon in covering up the accidental murder, but he did keep quiet about it, and was clearly affected by it, much like basil is in omori. also basil and sunny are best friends, and mick and devon are best friends.

kelsey - mari : the victim of an accident. again, i'm not sure what the accident in the au is but it was, in fact, that, much like it is in new kid. kelsey is a bit more malicious towards devon?? actively getting him into trouble in the dream world and such. also in the real world kelsey is referred to as adam by pretty much everyone, aka the hc alive name me and my friend have for them.

millie - aubrey : a bit shakier on the parallel thing but there's a few. namely abandonment issues, millie has those before anything happens, and they get way worse after kelsey / adam dies, kinda like aubrey. she still has sarah though, at least. but yeah millie gets really pissed at devon and alec leading to the fight shown above.

alec - kel : alright this is where it goes from " actual parallels to the character " to " i am making this up as i go <33 " uhhh. really the only thing i can point to is the family structure ( since i hc julius to be alec's older brother, alec has the same family structure as kel : an older brother, and a younger sister ) and the favoritism from his parents. but yeah alec is the one to get devon back out of his house

julius - hero : prettyboy /j

in all seriousness though, this is mostly just because he's alec's older brother, and something something hero is kel's. though i can see julius charming enemies in the dream world. he's a lot nicer here than he is in canon though but that's probably because this has the same timeskip omori does, being 4 years, so he's matured quite a bit.

speaking of which yeah uh. 4 year timeskip is here so everyone is in their late teens ( devon is 18, millie, mick and alec are 19 ) except julius, who's 20. everyone in the dream world is closer to their usual looks while in the real world they're all a bit different ( at least fashion-wise. though alec DID finally fix his bangs. )

and that's about it :]