#maybe one day I'll write a fic with that

[levemetal]

I love fics that have the Shen twins as twin peaks lords of Qing Jing, but let's be real: If there is one peak which SHOULD have two whole peak lords, it should be An Ding, the literal peak of logistics and paperwork.

Just feels like it would make An Ding's workload more manageable.

[crispyliza]

Fanfiction in the late 2000s-early 2010s was wild bc you'd find a beautifully written story with the most compelling heart-wrenching plot you've ever seen and the author's note would be like:

Author with a username like ~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Ohayo gozaimasu! ↖(^▽^)↗, I'm sowwy it took me so long to update (๑•́_•̀๑)

tsundere twink from their fic : It was about damn time you idiot (눈‸눈)

~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Hey now! It's not my fault the plot bunnies kept wunning away fwom me (╥﹏╥)

tsundere twink: W-watever, it's not like I missed you or anything (💢,,>﹏<,,) b-baka!

[zephyrchama]

You were sick. Your head was in a fog and your throat hurt something fierce. It was sweltering hot yet you shivered under the covers, hoping for the fever to pass soon. Your body, doing its best to get better, decided to empty the contents of your stomach over the side of the bed.

Beelzebub was the first to discover your condition. He came to wake you up in person when you hadn't shown up on time for breakfast. You were teetering like a newborn deer trying to clean up your mess. He was taken aback at the sight, at how clammy you were, and gently wiped the sweat from your face while checking how warm your forehead was. "You should lay down," he recommended, practically pushing you back into bed. You asked him to guide you to the bathroom instead.

He disappeared to fetch Lucifer. The eldest arrived immediately upon being informed of your condition. Your face muscles twitched as you tried to hold back a second round and apologized for the state you were in. Lucifer told you to stay quiet and just rest. "If you want to apologize, then get better soon."

"Don't tell anyone about this, ok?" you tried to ask. It came out as a garbled, barely perceptible whisper sending bolts of pain through your neck. You didn't want anyone to know how bad things really were.

"I do need to inform Diavolo, but rest assured I'll keep it brief." After ensuring you had water and would be fine alone for a few hours, Lucifer left early to inform RAD of your absence. He later texted you, "Don't hesitate to summon me if you need anything."

The house was quiet. It felt surreal to be the only one there. After some time had passed, you hobbled back to your bedroom and tried to sleep through the pain. Blissfully unaware of the chaos occurring elsewhere.

RAD is no small academy by any means, but rumors sure do spread fast. In first period, Beelzebub told Belphegor the sight he witnessed. They were overheard by Asmodeus, who lamented your absence to Solomon. Solomon asked Raphael to come with him to prepare some nutritious human food so you'd recover faster, and had to be forcibly stopped by Simeon. Luke found out by interrogating Solomon about why he was causing a scene in the kitchen.

Mephistopheles caught wind of the gossip and went directly to Diavolo for confirmation. Lucifer was none too happy at the situation, but the rumor mill was already spinning in full force. He did his best to uphold your image by telling anyone who broached the subject, "it's just the sniffles."

By lunchtime, Mammon was taking bets on how sick you were. "500 grimm says they're explodin' from both ends." "If that were the case, one of us would have stayed at the house with them," Satan rebutted, spying an easy win. "500 grimm says it's just coming out the bottom." They went back and forth, with others occasionally chipping in new symptoms such as hives or internal bleeding. Asmodeus, unable to listen any longer, left the cafeteria to post vague stories about his concern for you on social media.

Leviathan and Thirteen sent you get-well-soon text messages. One was full of worry and asked you to respond ASAP so they knew you weren't dying, as anxiety over your condition was causing them no end of fear. The other assured you to rest easy knowing that your candle was fine and you had plenty of time left before you kicked the bucket. It even recommended passing your bug onto someone else for fun.

You only saw the notifications in the evening, when a pounding headache woke you up and resounding footsteps in the hall signaled that people were home from school.

There was a knock at the door and Lucifer announced you had company. The crown prince and his butler imposed with a tray of fresh herbal tea. It would have smelled amazing if you possessed the ability to breathe through your nose. As the door shut behind them, you spotted at least ten figures out in the hallway.

Barbatos silently served you a hot cup, hopeful the rising stream would assist your sinuses. "Looks like you're recovering well!" Diavolo chimed. "That's great. I feared you were going to heave your guts out all day."

The frank sincerity caught you off guard and you choked on your tea. Barbatos was quick to grab the cup before it spilled.

"You knew?" you rasped. "Oh yes. Lucifer said it wasn't that bad, but tales of your illness have spread all over campus. We know human bodies aren't very strong."

You hunched down into the blankets to hide. The heat spreading across your face this time was not due to fever.

[wordsofasarcast]

headcanon

So you know how it's canon that Will listens to true crime podcasts?

What if that's how he finds out that Nico is from the 1940s?!

Like he's listening to the latest episode about 'the death of Maria di Angelo and the disappearance and supposed kidnapping of her missing children, Niccolò and Bianca di Angelo'.

And it's not all that strange for demigods to pop up in conspiracy blogs or podcasts - Percy had a four part series about him, and Will listened to the whole thing during a nightshift at the infirmary.

So yeah, Will starts listens to the di Angelo episode thinking nothing of it, maybe he's just hoping to have a laugh about what the mortals thought happened to Nico or maybe he's more than a little curious about Nico's mysterious past.

And the hosts, in crackling stereo voices because they desperately need a better mic, are talking about lightning striking the hotel, how "the storm popped up out of nowhere" and the "strange seismic activity reported in the area at the time"...and then the date drops...

The hosts say something along the lines of, "The di Angelo siblings were reported missing by their family back in Italy after no word had been received of their safe passage to America. The police report states they were last seen by an anonymous witness entering the Lotus Hotel & Casino with an unknown third party in December of 1942."

And Will's just sat there, gaping at the infirmary bed he'd been stripping of its sheets. Because everything is adding up now, and Will's not quite sure how he missed it...

[chiakery]

I'm thinking about the Matron of Ravens one day telling her champion, her first and most trusted ally since ascending to godhood, that she's going to leave him for some time.

I'm thinking about Purvan Suul, months or years later, following a raven until he arrived in front of a hovel. Inside it, there was a family. A mother. A father. A young girl with dark hair and green eyes, swaddled in blankets.

I'm thinking about Emhira's parents, not understanding why this stranger decided to take care of them but being infinitely grateful for this blessing - a skilled ranger bringing food and helping find shelter whenever their family had to move was more than anyone could hope for in times like these.

I'm thinking about Emhira, still young and mostly human, growing up looking up to this man who was so close with her he could have been her second father. Begging him to take her hunting, to teach her how to make and repair arrows. Playing with his wolf who was always so very gentle with her. Learning about Fate and Death and Gods.

I'm thinking about Purvan, patient as death, answering all of Emhira's questions but never pushing her in any direction, even when he saw her talking to ravens or idly drawing in sand symbols no one had ever showed her.

I'm thinking about Purvan and how, one day, this girl who was his god who was a little and vulnerable thing he had protected for the past decade and half, finally remembered. How she smiled at him in just the right way or placed a hand on his cheek with this look in her eyes and he knew. And he fell to his knees, heart bursting with prayer and joy and relief and said: "My Lady, welcome back."

[silver-studios]

How Shang Qinghua Ends Up Conning a Sect

AU where everything happens as it does in canon right up until the Mobei-Jun mission.

Shang Qinghua's system warns him earlier than it does in canon to be prepared, and he connects the dots, at which point he freaks out because he does not want to become a canon fodder spy. So SQH starts to protest being assigned to the mission, doing his best to get out of going by grovelling before his shixiong. Unfortunately, the Peak Lord happens to be passing by as this is happening and expresses disapproval at SQH trying to shirk his duties, forcing him to go and also ending up in him being saddled with even more chores while he’s at it much to his fellow disciples’ smug pleasure.

Not that the smugness lasts for long since they all end up dead. SQH does what he does best and just plays dead instead of pledging allegiance and then runs away once MBJ passes out (no moshang in this AU rip). He makes his way to the Sect alone because he isn’t even sure if they’ll send someone for him and makes it there just as the search party is leaving, bursting into tears from exhaustion and relief and admitting that everyone else is dead because of a demon attack.

He’s mostly numb and in denial in the aftermath because what do you mean he’s just subverted his major death flag?? Does he just live normally now until Luo Binghe swings by to massacre them?

He’s debating this when SQQ swoops in suspiciously to question how Shang-shidi alone managed to survive and crawl his way back to the Sect, to which SQH freaks out and kind of implies (or outright states) that he can see the future. SQQ is immediately disbelieving and YQY intervenes because SQH looks close to having a stroke, and SQH figures that since he has already stuck his foot in his mouth, he may as well buckle down and run with his technically-not-a-lie. So, he tells them that he knows their whole lore, even name dropping Xuan Su, the Qiu mansion and Wu Yanzi because he's pretty much obligated to commit to the bit at this point.

YQY pales and SQQ immediately goes on the defensive, telling him to keep his mouth shut, to which SQH protests because he’s known this whole time and hasn’t said a word. He really just wants to lay low and mind his business, guys, he swears. This is YOUR toxic doomed yaoi, not OUR toxic doomed yaoi.

YQY tells him that SQH clearly has a gift and they should inform the Peak Lords. SQH protests because obviously there’s no gift to speak of, and his ass does not need to risk being exposed like this. SQQ— still clearly on the fence about the whole seeing the future thing— agrees and practically drags SQH to face judgement for his crime of bullshitting.

Surprisingly, the An Ding Peak Lord actually appears to consider this farce because he remembers how badly SQH didn’t want to go on this mission. Appearing horrified, he asks, “Is this why you didn’t want to go? Because you knew what awaited you?” SQH just goes with it, nodding along and looking extra pathetic. “Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

Because he’d look like a crazy person??? “This disciple is aware that his…foresight is hard to believe in.” Great, now his Shizun thinks he has a tragic backstory like Cassandra or something. Good. Feel bad. You sent SQH into the jaws of death after all. Some guilt is exactly what you should be feeling.

The Sect Leader who is also present is less quick to trust in SQH’s claims since he isn’t angsting over the death of a bunch of disciples, and he proposes that they test SQH’s abilities somehow. Shit, SQH should have written this guy to be stupider; now he’s about to be executed or something for lying. He wracks his brains desperately for the plot he only really half-recalls, and manages to give out the location of some super mystical artefact to convince them. Just to be safe, he also says he knows the courtesy names of the entire Qing generation to come, though he refrains from telling them exactly which pupil will inherit the names. It takes a few days to confirm both his ‘predictions’ but soon enough SQH has been dubbed a certified Seer.

He ends up having to spend some time with Qian Cao and the divination/feng shui Peak Lords so they can make sure he’s physically and spiritually alright while they try to work out the extent of his powers so he isn’t hurting himself somehow. Since there are no powers to speak of, SQH knows it’s all useless but just lets them do whatever. The divination/feng shui Peak Lord is a little puzzled because usually divination involves seeking visions out through ritual, sacrifice or calculation. Seemingly random visions that are involuntary and inherent are exceedingly rare. They can’t sense anything inhuman or demonic off him either so it’s 100% all him, which is a trait of an extremely rare form of shamanism. SQH is mildly hysterical listening to them puzzle over his bullshit but needs must.

”Shang-shizi must have encountered some powerful god or spirit as a baby or in a past life.”

Sure, yeah, let's go with that. Why ever the fuck not.

They inform him that evil spirits and demons are often attracted to people like him for their qi, so he needs to learn how to defend himself. Caught in a lie of his own making, SQH can only curse in his heart and agree.

The An Ding Peak Lord offers to let him transfer to the feng shui peak (still wanting to compensate SQH somehow) but System immediately starts threatening SQH who bursts into tears from how stressful this ordeal has been and begs on his knees to be allowed to stay on An Ding. His Shizun is deeply touched, mistaking his desperation as love for this peak, and of course allows him to stay, remarking over how he had no idea “Hua-er was such a good, filial child” and that “this master is so lucky to have such a devoted disciple.” The misunderstandings between them continue to grow.

Since he’s stuck spending inordinate amounts of time learning various chants, prayers and rituals to protect himself, he has to do some serious bootlicking if he ever wants to be promoted to Inner Disciple. Thus, SQH doubles down on sabotaging his seniors and currying favour with Shizun in every spare moment he has. At least the others are discouraged from giving him too many chores because of his tighter schedule and Shizun's guilt. Shamelessly, SQH employs some of the tricks he’s learning (like talisman-making and minor spells) to his advantage so that he’s positively hovering around his Shizun like a very dedicated housefly over an attractive pile of garbage.

His shizun is none the wiser and is convinced his little disciple is a dutiful angel. Soon enough, SQH bags his promotion and subverts System-given punishment.

Rumours about his “power” spread, and people want to prod and see for themselves if it’s legit. Most of the time, he has to turn them away because fuck you he’s not a fortune cookie and he has no powers to speak of anyways, but sometimes someone will ask him something that he actually does know. For example, A Qian Cao disciple needs to know where to find this super niche herb, or SQH knows how to cure this obscure predicament, or Qing Jing needs to know about some culture or beast, or Wan Jian wants to find a super rare ore. Shizun is struggling with a contract, but SQH recognises that name as wife #465’s backstory and spills the tea, allowing them to be “talked into” better terms. Sometimes, he just makes educated guesses about the economic scene based on modern trends and statistics, and people hail him as a prophet. As a gift, his Shizun gives him a journal they recovered from a former shaman. SQH is horrified by the fact that he now essentially possesses a grimoire.

Then one day, he receives a request from his juniors to investigate a shed they swear is haunted. It is haunted, but SQH manages to banish the ghost and it’s fine. No biggie. Why are they looking at him with stars in their eyes? He also realises atp that the more he learns to use the spiritual arts, the more he’s able to interact with spirits (very double-edged sword) and great now that’s one more dumb fucking way he could die. He decides to say fuck it to xianxia social norms and tattoos himself with protective seals because hell nah. There may or may not be a small fan club growing in the background but that's not important (it is to me I want him to be appreciated).

Inevitably, he’s assigned to a mission. Unfortunately, he’s stuck with SQQ, who specifically requested to work with him much to Shizun’s delight (his Hua-er is making connections!) and SQH’s dismay. They’re supposed to appraise some rare book or whatever and negotiate a trade because Qing Jing’s Peak Lord really wants this one fucking book. SQH spends the entire trip to the collector’s home sweating while SQQ glares at him. It just gets worse because once they get there, the place is closed which pisses SQQ off even more who acts like it’s SQH’s fault.

Before SQH can apologise for daring to exist, a woman peeks out at them from inside the shop and appears to be greatly relieved to see a pair of cultivators. She tells them her husband has been acting super fucking weird but the doctors’ haven’t been able to help, claiming that he’s just gone insane, but maybe the cultivators can take a look and make sure it’s not some demon. SQH wants to protest because this is so far above his pay grade but SQQ silences him with one look and asks to be taken to the husband since “My shidi here is particularly gifted with the spirit arts.” Shen-shixiong, please this one is sorry, have mercy!

Anyways, SQH takes one look at the guy and is like “No yeah he’s definitely possessed lol.” He has to perform some ritual to determine just what is possessing the husband though and learns that it’s a ghost that will have to be forcibly ejected out of the dude’s body. SQQ is dubious about his skills but goes along with it begrudgingly, helping SQH gather supplies for the exorcism since they’re stuck seeing this through now because of him. He’s being prissy, and Qinghua is already nervous about an impromptu exorcism when he’s never done one by himself so he ends up snapping at him about “I’m not out to get you! I didn’t mean to learn your tragic backstory, but I’ve known all along and could literally not give less of a fuck, so can you stop being even more of an asshole than usual and just find me some fucking flowers so we can be done with this and go home!” And SQQ is so startled by the uncharacteristic outburst that he goes along with it.

The exorcism is…fine. The ritual is ok, but SQH wasn’t expecting quite that much resistance, so he has to have SQQ distract the ghost while he works on banishing it back to whatever hole it crawled out of. It’s tiring work, especially for his first solo exorcism, and he pretty much passes out as soon as it’s over. He wakes up in one of the collector’s guest bedrooms and awkwardly apologises for fainting and also for screaming at SQQ earlier. SQQ looks at him and sniffs, graciously forgiving him. SQH earnestly reiterates that he’ll keep his mouth shut about the stuff he knows. SQQ doesn’t respond to that but tells him that the collector is giving them the book for free as thanks so they can fuck off as soon as SQH is well enough.

They give the book to QJ Peak Lord but before SQH can fuck off, SQQ corners him again. “Earlier, you mentioned something about Xuan Su that Yue-shixiong clearly wanted to keep secret. What is it?” SQH tries to dither “ah, it’s really not my place…” Then he sees the look on SQQ’s face, remembers that he actually values his life and promptly rats YQY out before scurrying off to safety while SQQ immediately flies over to Qiong Ding to rip YQY a new one for keeping such a huge secret from him.

SQH is tasked to tidy Shizun’s office before some guests arrive and ends up rearranging the furniture because the feng shui in there sucked ass tbh and his Shizun is so pleased by the gesture that he decides to start grooming him for head disciple duties. Not that SQH really realises what’s happening. He just knows he suddenly has even more grunt work to do and is silently cursing his Shizun out over it.

He’s on Qiong Ding for inventory when YQY corners him much to his horror because YQY is wearing his super creepy empty smile as he brings up how SQH snitched on him. SQH is already halfway through apologising for breathing when YQY cuts him off to thank him for the intervention, assuring him that if SQH needs help or a favour, YQY will have his back. Great. Thanks I guess???

Anyways so thanks to his connections, his Shizun is even more impressed and officially makes him Head Disciple. First order of business is actually a mission with Liu Qingge since SQQ is going with YQY. Their mission is to investigate a haunted mirror that causes hallucinations and basically tricks its victims into violent self-destruction. Before they can even enter, SQH is making LQG promise that he won’t try to attack or provoke the mirror because if LQG goes crazy and tries to kill SQH, he might actually die. LQG scoffs, mutters something about weak cultivation, begrudgingly promises, and then promptly gets impatient halfway through SQH extensive diagnosis and packaging process and tries to stab the mirror because it reeks of evil and should clearly be destroyed.

Luckily, SQH’s idiot system actually has its uses and it doesn’t allow any other sentient being to influence him meaning he’s pretty possession proof. Unluckily, LQG does not have this built in immunity and starts trying to kill SQH who is suddenly stuck fighting for his life against the soon-to-be War God of Bai Zhan. He runs and screams the whole time and kind of blacks out in his blind panic, but next thing he knows, he’s slapped LQG with a temporary qi disrupting talisman and locked him in a room. It won’t hold him for long, but at least he’s bought himself some time with this. SQH then has to go about exorcising the fucking mirror. Halfway through his chanting, LQG escapes his enclosure and bursts in, so now SQH is hysterically fighting him off while simultaneously finishing his chant because if he stops, he’ll have to start over and it might legitimately kill him. He manages and then chucks some stray debris to shatter it for good measure just as LQG tackles him. The spell breaks and LQG just kind of freezes, supremely disoriented and trying to figure out what is happening when SQH just fucking decks him, punting him through the already damaged wall and yelling, “I asked you not to do one thing, and what do you do?! You do the thing! The thing I specifically asked you not to do!! You fucking clown, Liu-shidi! You’re lucky you’re so pretty because, right now, it’s the only thing keeping me from ripping your face off and beating you to death with it” before promptly bursting into tears.

It’s a really awkward flight back home because SQH is straight up refusing to even acknowledge LQG’s existence (partly out of anger because what an idiot and partly because he just threatened someone who could definitely eviscerate him???), and LQG is unusually contrite in the wake of the mission that he almost botched and his usually timid shixiong’s fury. When they make it back to the sect, he goes to apologise (because SQH is a really fast flier and LQG could barely catch up to him the whole trip, let alone speak), but SQH cuts him off and orders him to go to Qian Cao and have them do a post-possession check up while he goes to give his Shizun a report on why they destroyed the mirror they were actually supposed to bring back for storage. LQG sulks harder but actually does as asked because SQH still looks to be in no mood for arguments.

Once things have calmed, SQH is mortified and determined to just avoid LQG because it’s super likely the guy will just forget about his existence so long as he stays out of sight. LQG does not forget. LQG keeps trying to seek him out and leaving monster carcasses for him to find, which SQH assumes with horror is meant to be a threat to his life and just avoids his shidi even harder. He’s not above fainting to get out of confrontations too! LQG has no idea what he’s dealing with.

A very frustrated and determined LQG finally manages to corner SQH after a Peak Lord meeting that the Head Disciples got to sit in on to learn since their shizuns are going to ascend soon. SQH decides that SQQ is actually the lesser of two evils and shamelessly dives behind him for cover which instantly pisses LQG off because “You’re willing to use him to avoid me?”

SQQ: Ex-cuse me? What is that supposed to mean?

SQH: Yeah! I love hanging out with Shen-shixong!

[collective disbelief]

YQY: (fake smiling and subtly hiding SQH behind him) Did you need something from Shang-shidi, Liu-shidi?

LQG: …wanted to thank him. and apologise.

SQH: Wait why????

LQG: for the mission. I screwed up and you had to complete the mission on your own when it was my job to protect you and provide backup. You could have left me since I was a hinderance to our objective and went against your orders but you didn’t. Thank you.

SQH: Well, it’s fine now, isn’t it?

LQG: (insistent) You saved my life

SQH: We’re martial siblings, haha, no biggie

SQQ: (immediately catching on and suddenly very smug) So you owe Shang-shidi a debt

SQH: He does????

LQG: I do

SQH: You do????

LQG wants to know how to repay the debt but SQH just waves him off, saying he’ll let him know if he thinks of something, mostly just to be rid of him because he’s really intense and it’s not good for SQH’s heart. LQG just thinks that SQH is dismissing him because he probably thinks LQG is unreliable after the disaster mission. Well, LQG will just have to prove him otherwise. And so begin the misunderstandings between these two as well.

Meanwhile, SQH’s Shizun watching with fond eyes: Ah, my Hua-er is making so many friends. He’s so popular. I’m so proud.

Qian Cao’s peak lord: Actually, I think he’s having a heart attack right now. Someone should probably get him.

The battle against TLJ takes place and most of the martial siblings have to go help the effort, though SQH is not one of them because the sect does have to keep running while everyone's gone. He’s helping SQQ double check that the Qing Jing supplies are up to par and he can tell SQQ is nervous because he's even more snappy and irritable than usual. Finally, SQH turns to him and says with certainty, “It will be fine, shixiong. You will be fine, Yue-shixiong will be fine, Liu-shidi will downright thrive.”

SQQ: Who’s worried about that meathead?

SQH: I’m just saying.

SQQ: …You’ve had a vision

SQH: Sure

SQQ asks for details and SQH admits YQY will have to unsheathe his blade but he will survive and his newly earned renown will really boost the sect’s own reputation once he becomes Sect Leader. Suspicious about the way SQH says that, SQQ prods about casualties. SQH admits that they will be ascending as Peak Lords very soon though he doesn’t elaborate on who it is specifically because “Knowledge of the future is a heavy weight to bear, shixiong.”

SQQ: What, you think I’m too weak to know?

SQH: I didn’t say that. I know exactly how strong you are and I admire you, but…I wouldn’t wish this burden upon anyone else, shixiong. Not truly. It’s dangerous and disheartening. People shouldn’t be privy to their fate. It’s unnatural.

SQQ lets it go because SQH looks abnormally intense as he talks about how he views his gift, but it does leave him thoughtful about just what kind of futures SQH foresees.

Anyways, the Sect Leader gets fatally injured in the battle, and the Peak Lords ascend hastily before he can actually die so that they can all pass on together. SQH finally succeeds in his longstanding mission, but he can’t say he’s thrilled about the promotion considering he has to really hit the ground running. An Ding can’t afford transition phases as things stand. So, he spends a month categorising which systems to keep, which to overhaul and how he’d overhaul them. All the staff is ruthlessly vetted, and he’s basically functioning as a one-man army just trying to keep on top of all the requests being sent his way too.

Needless to say, when he stumbles into the first official mandatory Peak Lords meeting, he looks like death itself. He’s straight up dissociating through most of it, only listening with half an ear when he’s directly addressed. He doesn’t even remember what he said when it was his turn to speak because he’s so out of it. At some point, he lifts his tea, misses his mouth and just pours it in his lap without blinking. SQQ watches him with equal parts clinical curiosity and disgust. The agenda is finished and it’s open floor for anyone who has anything extra to mention. Someone requests something from him and he nods along without really hearing it because if it’s not on paper, it’s not important right now.

Someone starts an argument and Qi Qingqi is being extra loud to be heard; they still haven’t been dismissed even though all of this is unnecessary and SQH has a killer migraine. He turns to god and prays for patience. SQQ, sitting next to him and listening, corrects him because he’s using the wrong phrase. “You mean strength,” he says.

SQH snorts and mutters under his breath, “If the gods gave me strength, Qi-shimei would be dead.”

In a room of Peak Lords, whispering is pointless. There is silence as everyone stares at an unusually vindictive SQH. QQQ looks baffled, affronted, and impressed simultaneously.

Then, LQG mutters, “I thought I was the only one he threatened like that.” He manages to sound both relieved and put out.

SQQ, like a shark smelling blood, turns to stare at him judgmentally and, in a condescendingly sweet manner, asks, “Is shidi upset about not getting special treatment anymore?” The provocation works, of course, and a new argument errupts.

SQH watches blankly, hands twitching to his sleeves where he keeps talismans, tired and unhinged enough to actually contemplate literally cursing his martial siblings when a pointed “Shang-shidi” draws his attention to YQY who smiles emptily and says, “No.”

”But, shixiong—”

”No.”

Then, one day, YQY, SQQ, SQH, QQQ and LQG are on their way back from some formal sect event or the other when they come across a growing mass of supernatural resentment flying right towards them. Naturally, as the ‘psychic’ SQH is looked upon to figure out what is going on. He’s reluctant to really get close and is kind of mumbling while he places diagnostic arrays, “Man it’d be convenient if you could just straight up tell me so we’d all save time.” The mass kind of pauses for a moment and then clears just enough for SQH’s more supernaturally attuned eyes to see.

”Su Xiyan?!!”

Su Xiyan the Bog Monster is clearly trying to tell him something but he’s not psychic enough for actual ghostly communication so it takes him a second to make out through the garbled moaning and pained shrieking that she says baby at some point. “Oh, Luo Binghe?” he says, happy just to have caught something. The Bog Monster projects surprise. The Peak Lords watch with dispassionate confusion.

“Yeah I know the whole story. Sorry about what happened to you by the way. I couldn’t really do anything to stop it unfortunately. Something about fixed points in fate that can’t be changed? Not that that’s like fair. To you, I mean.” Great now he feels guilty and SQQ has the creepy contemplative look in his eyes again. “So, how can I help you?”

More convoluted bog monster charades ensues. Finally, he guesses she wants him to go find LBH and take care of him because he’s just been orphaned. Again.

So, SQH turns to his fellow Peak Lords, shrugs at them, offers no other explanation and accepts that he’s about to change the fate of the world as he knew it. In the end, it’s maddeningly simple really. LBH is a tiny thing, all of seven years old, big eyes in a precious face framed by adorable curly hair. SQH tells him he’s an immortal master who knew his birth mother and LBH, after some explaining that his mom actually loved him and was forced to abandon him because she was dying, agrees to go with him. So, SQH is officially a dad now. Su Xiyan, satisfied that her baby is ok for good, lets go of her resentments and moves on to the afterlife.

SQH has the dubious honour of explaining to his martial siblings that he has adopted a half-demon child because his ghost mom asked him to, admitting to the full story of what actually happened between Su Xiyan and TLJ. Understandably, they’re shocked. There’s initially some questions about why SQH didn’t say anything sooner when an innocent Su Xiyan was imprisoned. SQH says that he couldn’t. SQQ deduces that his gift of foresight actually comes at a cost.

There’s no gift so there’s no real cost, but SQH isn’t above lying. He just openly says that if he tries to change certain things he knows of, it would cost him his life. He didn’t even want to come to Cang Qiong initially, but every time he even thought of changing his fate, he knew he’d die. He knew about YQY’s qi deviation before YQY had even become an inner disciple but again he couldn’t stop it. He hadn’t even thought of intervening in LBH’s fate because he’d assumed he couldn’t. He doesn’t know why he’s being allowed now.

SQQ catches onto the implication that LBH is important to fate somehow then, and SQH haltingly admits that, as far as he knew, LBH would have the power to end the world if he so wanted. If Cang Qiong looks after him and supports him though, they’d have all that power devoted to them. In the end it doesn’t take much convincing to be honest. LBH does have that white sheep protagonist halo thing going for him after all.

SQH ends up freeing TLJ, claiming that he’s just diverting the potential end of the world. TLJ is revived and told the full truth of what happened. He meets LBH who is very confused and very shy, but not averse. At least until he realises he might have to go away with TLJ at which he point he bursts into tears because he doesn’t want to leave SQH. Since TLJ is now stuck co-parenting, he agrees to a secret alliance with Cang Qiong and goes to make sure the demon realm hasn’t forgotten who’s boss.

LBH grows up in both realms, learning under LQG and his dad and fully coming into his own as a supremely powerful cultivator and heir to the demon throne. SQQ asks if SQH ever foresaw his own death and SQH admits that he did. He saw all of their deaths. SQQ asks if fate really can be changed to which SQH is happy to report that yeah, not everything is set in stone.

”And what do you see now?”

”Nothing actually. I haven’t had a vision in years.” Or ever.

”Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

”Everything makes me nervous, shixiong.” Pause. “But, this once, it’s not too bad. Not knowing what the future holds means that anything is possible.”

Fate will be what they make of it now, and this is just the beginning.

[screamingcrows]

Anyway, you're dating Alhaitham while Kaveh is still living there. Kaveh is on a trip into the desert, should be coming home in two days, you and Alhaitham have just bathed and are having slow sex in his room. You hear the front door open and mutter out a confused "Kaveh?" - but poor Alhaitham... He thinks you just moaned his roommate's name. Suffice to say, his hands grip your hips a little harder and his thrusts grow deeper while his chest burns with a need to make you forget everything but him. Alhaitham is not a jealous man, he trusts you wholly, but he does appreciate being concise with words, so how could he possibly let you misspeak in such a way?

Poor Kaveh hears the bedframe creak and promptly backs out the door.

[wandixx]

"There is only so much you can for the dead" part 2

continuation to this, I should probably make an original title at some point

trigger warnings: graphic describtion of Danny's death

Moments of blissed, deadly stillness felt unfairly short. It was less than blink of an eye, less than a drop of darkness after he asked Team for the last time to leave and before he woke up, in exactly same state that he was when portal spat him out. He could barely perceive his limbs, and what he could, was consumed by agonising pain.

Fuck, he hated Death Days. Absolutely horrible experience.

His nerves were on fire, electricity dancing and burning across them. His veins and lungs and nostrils and ears and stomach and eyes and mouth and every little crevice of his body was filled with ectoplasm, like liquid fire and evaporated ice, drowning him at every attempted breath. He was crushed by an unimaginable weight, at the same time as his body exploded. He was just coherent enough to feel his bones breaking, cells bursting, his very molecules being rearranged and destroyed and rebuilt but not coherent enough to tell if his scream was anything louder than a whimper.

He was in the middle of the crowd that screamed louder than he could handle, as if every person who ever got to Ghost Zone used this exact moment to let out all of their anguish, hands dragging and pulling and squeezing and brushing at every inch of his skin. He was alone like no one was ever before, in silence that was deafening. He could be stomped to death any second without anyone turning his head, and so separate from everything that he could be only existing being.

He couldn’t help but wait for Death, merciless and brutal, whose twisted children invaded his bed time stories since he could understood words, whose corrupted children he was taught to hate. She was hideous and horrifying, but against everything, she was familiar and he wanted, needed, to see one intimate face in the situation that was so wrong, wrong, wrong. He waited for her to rip his last breath away so everything would stop.

If he had a scrap of himself that could feel worse, it’d cry when he felt her getting away from him, slipping between the fingers that were both tense and limp, impossible to control but possible to feel, broken and twitching. She was getting away but pain wasn’t lessening, maybe even getting worse, to the point where it was only thing that filled his brain.

And then it all stopped. No pain, not even any left over typical to how injuries worked, just a moment of weird pressure against his palm (just like the button), that soon stopped too.

He was in his human form, but in the hazmat he wore just before the accident. Something was wrong about it all. Something in his body made it feel like not his. Something in his chest was too light and too quiet and some intrusive thought made him want to claw on his rib cage until he ripped it open and realized what was missing.

Breathing seemed to easy, enough that he got lightheaded. It got a lot harder when he realized.

He couldn’t feel his core.

Before he managed to come to terms with that, there was a gentle pressure on his hand again.

And the pain returned.

*-*-*

Danny didn't wake up abruptly, with a choked scream and phantom burns. He also didn't wake up slowly, not in the nice, relaxed way at least, when the line between dream and reality is blurred beyond recognition. He woke up in pain, feeling like he wasn't even sleeping before, just… somewhere else while his body was destroying itself again for what felt like decades.

It took some effort to connect with his body after he woke up. To be able to move even a finger. Even longer, to open his eyes. Actual ages to sit up without urge to scream.

After seeing the absolute wreckage of the room, he kinda wished it took him longer. It looked like a warzone. Electrical burns on the walls and ceiling, random puddles of bubbling ectoplasm eating away anything they touched like an acid, and what little stuff there was before, was almost all broken beyond recognition, either by whatever force was doing its thing during his death day show or ecto. When he looked at it a bit more, it seemed to go in spiral around him.

It was kinda sad that the cookies went to waste like that. He was curious who brought them in though.

Thank fucking Ancients that Team listened to him and nobody was there when the whole mess was going down. They would probably join him on the other side of the veil otherwise.

He saw it all only because of his ghost enhanced in dark vision (thank Ancients he stayed in the ghost form) because apparently his Death Day shorted out both main electrical circuit and the emergency one. Thankfully, according to his ears, it only reached this and rooms next to him, instead of the whole Mountain.

Fuck. He really hoped Robin gave him some sort of back-up back-up room because otherwise he was dead. Or well, dead-er.

He rolled out of the bed, barely catching himself from smacking on the floor like a sack of potatoes. Though some would argue he didn’t catch himself if only his face didn’t fall to the floor like the sack of potatoes.

Only then he caught sight of big, ecto-green circle that embed itself into the wall right over the bed. It had familiar vibes. Really familiar…

He had to tell the Team about it yesterday.

*-*-*

M'gann was sitting on the needles, just like everyone else. Sure, Phantom asked them to forget about him and essentially ignore whatever was happening to him, but there was no way they'd actually be able to do it. Case in point, first time alarms about shorting out of the electrical circuit in the room. They run there so fast that they had door open to see what was wrong before the absolute onslaught of electricity and ectoplasm and something else turned off the alarms thirty seconds later. Truth be told, they couldn’t do much, not without risking becoming second ghostly member of the Team, they’ve been there and ready. Conner tried to come in anyway, with his invulnerability and such, but they had to drag him out when despite extensive dodging he got hit five times by the time he got two steps into the room. Also, there wasn’t really anything he could do to help.

So they just spent last almost twenty hours alternating between different things to keep themselves occupied enough to not fall asleep and distract themselves from quilt but not enough to not be able to drop it at the moments notice if it was needed. First plan was to nap in shifts if it was necessary but it quickly became apparent that sleep was impossible with how worried everyone was and when M'gann proposed to just shut down their brains with her powers, everyone got really defensive. Well, no was no. So they just sat, at the moment in awkward silence because every topic that wasn't Phantom felt too inane and every topic that was Phantom felt too… just no. No name for why, just no.

M'gann was about to get up to make another batch of peanut butter and oatmeal snacks that took few minutes to make and could be dropped at any second, when Conner practically jumped in his seat, tilting his head to hear better. Robin perked up from whatever he was doing on his wrist computer at the same time.

"Phantom left the room!” they exclaimed at the same time, jumping out of their seats.

This head start didn’t matter by the time everyone ran or flew out to the corridor, racing against clock to the room where they left Phantom. It didn’t seems so before, but now M’gann just cursed their past selves for not waiting somewhere closer. There wasn’t really any place where they could stay instead, unless they set camp right outside his door, but it still. They should be there five minutes ago, like Wally, who obviously run off.

They heard Wally speaking before they’ve seen him.

“Hey, hey calm down. It’s fine, they’ll be there in a second, just chill. They’re right after me, whatever happened, we’ll help you in just a moment, you don’t have to run. You’re barely standing. Phantom, calm down”

M’gann barely made it around the corner and she thought she had seen Kaldur actually smacking into the wall. He brushed it off.

Phantom looked beyond rough. It seemed like Wally, who had ghost’s arm across his shoulders, was only thing holding him up. His feet were firmly on the ground, not in his usual way, when he looked just a breeze away from flying, but in this fully human way, which was unsettling. His face was gray instead of his usual almost tan, eyes wide and terrified.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”

“Phantom, it’s fine. It’s fine, we know about the room, it’s fine,” Robin said, trying to placate him. It didn’t quite work. Ghost was on the verge of hyperventilating, which was a bit weird to see on someone for who breathing was voluntary.

“It’s not about room”

“I’m sure it’s fine anyway”

“It’s anything but. I’m sorry-”

“Shut up and tell us what happened if you’re so sure we will be pissed”

“Artemis!”

“Portal”

“What about it?”

“Portal is what killed me.”

M’gann didn’t like how the whole situation looked before, but it suddenly became much worse.

“My Death Day made another one”

[gaytommykinard]

bucktommy actors au and it goes like this

evan buckley, who sort of accidentally gets into modelling/acting after he moves to LA. he gets discovered and cast into a sexy perfume ad and then another sexy music video and he rolls with it because why not, it's easy money and LA is expensive, and he starts getting small roles here and there and eventually lands himself a recurring role as a firefighter on a network procedural (because we love being meta). it's fairly successful and long running, and he's gone from being a recurring character to one of the mains, and he loves his job, he loves the show (almost as much as his sister does) (almost as much as his actual-firefighter brother-in-law hates it)

tommy kinard, former child star who was shoved into the world of Hollywood at the age of 8 and starred in a couple of blockbusters in the early 90s that everyone has seen, who was outed in his twenties and disappeared from the public for like, a decade, and now gets to pick and choose what roles he'll take on, so when he's asked if he wants a small recurring role on his favourite guilty-pleasure show he jumps at the opportunity (and then he finds out he's been cast as the LI for the hunkiest guy on the show? this is his lucky day)

this is buck's first role where he has to kiss a man and he's like whatever it's not a big deal, i'm an ally. he meets tommy and they get along so welllll. buck trying to find every opportunity to hang out with tommy, invites him to go hiking and asks him to read lines together, and tommy is no A-lister but he still has some name recognition and he totally uses it to get them a table at the restaurant with a 6-month waitlist.

and let's say it's a slow burn arc on the show, so they've been filming a few episodes by the time they get to The Kiss. and of course they have to shoot that like 12 times. and buck goes home at the end of the day and he's had a long day he's so tired he just wants to shower and sleep but he lays in bed like. i should text tommy. and then tommy calls him and they're talking and joking and laughing. and they hang up and buck still can't sleep and he's like. what is this weird feeling.

until one day they're hanging out at tommy's house and buck is doing that thing where he's flirting without knowing he's flirting and tommy thinks fuck it and kisses him and buck gets this stupid smile on his face because holy shit everything makes sense now.

[thebibliosphere]

I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but occasionally, I am reminded that I started writing crackfic based on a dream I had after playing too much Garden Life and also reading too many Nightwing comics, and I'll open up the document and laugh myself sick at how awful a time Slade Wilson is having in my haunted flower shop AU.

He's been ripped body and soul out of his genre and into a cozy Hallmark movie with undercurrents of cosmic horror, and there's nothing he can do about it. Worst of all, the human he kidnapped is unkillable. At least by him.

---

Slade took a menacing step forward, then stopped dead in his tracks, unable to move another inch. "The fuck."

He looked down at his boots, struggling to uproot them from the dirt-strewn floor. When that failed, he gave up and took a desperate swing across the shop counter. The little witch didn't even flinch. She didn't need to. The same invisible force wrapped around his arm, holding it in place as he strained his outstretched hand toward her neck.

"What the fuck did you do?" he demanded, arm shaking as sweat began to bead down his brow.

"Me?" she asked, far too innocently, like butter wouldn't melt in that smug, annoying mouth. "Bless your heart, dearie, that's not me. That's the plot armor."

"Plot what?"

"Armor," she repeated slowly for him. "I know you're familiar with the word. I've seen that discounted Spirit Halloween ensemble you call a costume."

Slade snarled, renewing his efforts to crush her windpipe. "I know the word. What does it mean?"

"It means I'm protected. The story can't advance without me, so you're stuck with me." She smiled sweetly. "Lucky you."

"Story? What story? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"This one," she said, gesturing around them as though that explained anything. "The one we're in. The one you pulled me into. The one I can't leave until you figure out whatever the fuck you're supposed to be doing. So if you could hurry up and do that, that'd be great. I've got shit to do, and it doesn't involve holding your hand through whatever bullshit character arc crisis you're going through."

"Lady," Slade breathed out through gritted teeth, "you are fucking insane."

"Oh, sweety," she drawled, leaning across the counter and causing his arm to draw back of its own volition, not allowing him to get a hold of her throat, as she patted him condescendingly on the cheek. Clearly, whatever bullshit proximity magic she was pulling didn't apply to her ability to touch him. "You don't know the half of it."

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[doublekanble]

deer (in a head light)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

platonic-romantic. (almost everyone thinks you two are in love or is extremely baffled by the fact, a bit more romantic for me but can be seen as anything actually i just like writing people being sort of stupid)

word count: 5.6k.

or, collectively, everyone's reaction to the fact. Nifty is there👍. no real warning this is a normal fic part two to this.

Husk have never gone through this level of raw mental torture, while Angel thinks it’s absolutely hilarious how hard is it for Husker to accept that one of the most feared Overlord of all Pride Ring is vying for a cute lil fella like you. What started out as a small remark over the rim of a particularly strong cup of gin about how Alastor have been seemingly hovering around you, making small talks that you try to keep up with confused enthusiasm - soon turn into listing off every growing instances of odd affections that no one ever thought he’s capable of, but it’s yours in abundance.

You’re standing up with the intention of going outside? Unless he’s actively in a conversation (and several time, even during one) Alastor will find a convenient excuses to walk with you. You’re cold? Everyone else better be cold too, either that or hope to God he have anything to give you to wear. Hungry? Thirsty? Almost like a caretaker, he’s always making sure you have little bites of food and drink here or there, reminding you like clockwork. Staying in your room for the day? Your room is close to Angel, and the first time he come out of his room, fresh from a hangover, only to catch the tail end of a red coat and a greeting disappearing behind your door, it takes everything in him to try and rationalizing not breaking the door down.

(Husk thinks he was being overprotective. Angel brushed it off with a nervous chuckle. It’s a good thing, he remarks, if only Angel kept that attitude.)

The idea of Alastor actually taken interest in anyone, even positively, send shivers down his spine. Husk have been one of the older soul that fell into the hand of the sadistic Overlord, one that did just enough to keep his earn and do what he want when Alastor would’ve gotten busy with a new project or two. He knows he’s useful enough to Alastor, even with the occasional slipped up, learning quickly where to tread and where to back down. The Radio demon is insane, but he is surprisingly much more lenient with people than he often let on, but not as much as he is with you.

Which quickly became a thorn that Angel uses to dug into his side. Old battle-worn Husk cannot wrap his head around the fact that you, of all people in Hell, somehow get back on Alastor good side and stays there for longer than anyone thought you could.

You are more than bearable, don’t get him wrong. Good at reading and picking up on certain cues to pleased people (more particularly, the fact Husk likes to be alone most of the time), and in spite of being just a tad bit too stubborn at times, is generally a polite and entertaining thing to have around. It would’ve made sense for Alastor to wants to keep you for fun, if not for how you two started out.

Having missing out on your first introduction, all he have to go off of is your debrief of it on the one day you want to try whiskey. You’d damn near spat it out, opting to just sit with some soda instead (he didn’t try to poke too much, you’re almost like a pop-up pirate at time). Husk figured you would earn the ire of the most egotistical man he’d ever known, considering how you loudly asked Charlie for Alastor's resume as a way to try and barred him from working here.

Of course, that didn’t work, both you and Vaggie are long-time victims of Charlie convincing puppy gaze, and Alastor secured him and Nifty a spot at the hotel. But Husk was extremely adamant it would put you on a black book with Alastor, still remembering how Alastor grip on his cane would tighten just a bit whenever you spoke up on the first day. And yet, you get to laugh about it.

-

“Yer just bein superstitious kitten. At this point ‘m pretty sure dude just got the hots for them, nothing big.”  Angel fiddles with his phone on one set of hand, the other propping himself on the bar counter, holding a popsicle to his mouth. He wants to tell the spider that’s absolutely not how the word superstitious should be use, but he digressed. “We’ve been at this for days, if he gonna do something, we would’ve known.”

Husk scoffed, throwing the piece of cloth he’s been using to furiously wiping down a stain someone left on the counter over his shoulder.

“Yeah right, as if you can get your head out of your ass enough to see that.” He ignores Angel smirk, already knew where this can go if he let it, almost like a whisper, he spat. “I’m just saying, he ain’t the Radio demon for show. You lots know nothing about whatever he got planned in his shitty fucked up head.”

Forced contractor be damn, this bar is his pride and joy, or whatever’s left of it anyway.

At that, Angel sends his attitude right back, hand(s) flickering, “And I’m saying he’s head over heels. What? Ya wanna explain the fucker just- casually waltz up to them and kissin' their fucking hand as a morning greeting? Cus’ I’m calling bullshit. Nobody even doing that fucking thing anymore, and he’s doin’ it every chance he gets! Like, have you even seen them?!” Almost like a comedy setup, they both look over to the chattering at the top of the stairs.

Over the railing, you’re rushing off from Alastor’s side to catch up to Nifty, who’s desperately nagging you to come and help her with a spot she can’t dust off with a ladder, having long depleting the fun of falling off from it. And almost like instinct, he took your hand and planted a gentle peck, along with a well wish for your day.

You, with your other hand occupied and being dragged away too fast after the fact for you to formulate a real respond, simply perks up and laugh, waving at him before you fully give into the little bug-like demon and let her rushed the both of you to the other side of the hotel – Alastor stands and watch you fully disappearing behind a corner before turning his head and look directly at the pair. His mic sounding nothing except for a low drones of static.

Husk expertise kicking in, he looks straight ahead instead, wiping down the counter again just to be safe. Angel’s years of acting led him to immediately start talking about the latest project he’s involved in, popsicles stick held from his face. Husk can’t be too bothered by it this time, at least he’s reading the room. But even with their combined effort, it still doesn’t stop Alastor from manifested himself right by the bar, smiles almost pull taut, a too jolly “How is it going gentlemen?” and a request for a cup of moonshine, with a tune contorting just to sound much too whimsical for anyone else except him echoes from his microphone, and he’s off again.

“…y’know, you can just say you’re sorry for being wrong Whiskers~”

“Go fuck yourself.”

-----

Vaggie knows that no matter how much she tries to warn Charlie about the cannibal murderer in their own cozy hotel, her partner can and have constantly willed it away with loving words and cute beady eyes that she can’t fight against. Her loving and trusting nature always been the tried-and-true counter to Vaggie’s much more doubtful and skeptical side. Recalling the way you refer to it (two people working in harmony, balancing out each other’s nature, like a tango, a secret rhythm unknown to anyone but them), she smiles.

It dropped the moment she remembers the matter at hand, specifically, you, a friend that have grown dear to her heart, and the cannibal murderer she very much hated guts - growing close to yours. She’s not sure whether this qualifies for a tango when she’s dragging her feet and Charlie’s tap dancing.

Vaggie would’ve been glad you have virtually zero comment on the fact Alastor is getting close to you, and with her luck, purposefully ignoring it (what’s with you and dive bombing out of the conversation the moment the topic came up), if not for the fact Charlie is very insistent on letting you know all about it (=> conversation you have to dive out of). You and Vaggie traded favors all the time, exclusively about Charlie, who always try to bite off a bit more than she can chew.

Usually, you did a much better job on keeping Charlie from trouble than Vaggie actually can, having the heart she lacks to guilt her partner into keeping still or stop her from running into red light traffic. Yet a pattern emerges soon after this deal started that you three all pick up on, much to Charlie’s delight.

Somehow, some way, Charlie aged old puppy dog eyes are much, much more effective when the both of you are right next to each other. Alone, while Vaggie can’t turn her down, you can and have consistently do so. But together, you both would turn to each other, and you either would give into Charlie first, or wash your hand completely from the whole situation altogether, both decisions are equally awful, and often left Vaggie alone on the line of defense.

Like that time you asked for the Radio demon resume, being extremely firm on his demeanor being horrible for customer service and how unfit it would be for a hotel to house someone who clearly doesn’t want to help or be help. Vaggie remember the chills running up her spine as you stand firmly in the face of the greatest mystery to Hell even after all this time and not even batting an eye to his straining words or the implications of it. Even going so far as to point out that he’s a liability and can’t keep himself straight for anything worth the hotel’s effort.

Only for Charlie to held onto your (and Vaggie’s) hand and tell you both she can do this. She remembers it took you not even 5 second to turn towards her with a wistful gaze, a smile pulls on your lips, and put a hand on her shoulder.

Aside from her first real injuries, it was the biggest betrayal she’d ever gone through.

Vaggie like to think it doesn’t sting so badly that her partner and her friend are now growing more used to the giant red flag stalking their halls. If not also for the fact she have to be in on your effort of stopping Charlie from bringing up a weird line of conversation while you still - albeit not fully of your own volition - feeding into her girlfriend delusion of being a matchmaker. It wouldn’t be so hard if you just, try to at least calm Charlie down yourself, but your tendencies to avoid particularly specific conversation makes her boomerang from appreciation to pure exasperation.

Especially when she would be fighting her love for Charlie to keep your dignity intact.

“But Vaggiee…!” clinging onto her left arm, Charlie tries her best to bring her girlfriend’s eyes back to her. “Just look at them! They’ve never looked at anyone like that!”

She would love to argued otherwise, you have a habit of looking at everyone like that, something with making people feel more welcome to talk to you. But all thought vanished from her head when she turns to try and make an argument, and for a brief moment she forgot what they were talking about. Charlie’s good at distracting her, but she steeled herself and stop Charlie from jumping off into this and making it so much harder on you than it already is.

(God, the things Vaggie’d do for love.)

“I know you really want to, hun, but - I’m just, not sure about this. It’s Alastor we’re talking about. I get them being into him or whatever, but you’d really set them up with the Radio demon? You know…”

Charlie was slowly wilting a bit, but picks herself up at the hesitation, thinking it’s her chance, she races over her words. “A thoughtful, charming and-“

But still can’t finish fast enough, and Vaggie have to advert her eyes, she can’t handle a sad Charlie that well. “and a horrible cannibalistic freak, Charlie. He’s not a good person.” At that, her girlfriend really clings onto her.

“Vaggie…this is a hotel for redemption! We've got to believe that people can change…” Charlie’s not addressing her point, there’s no real way to denying the fact Alastor is really just who he is. A rotten, rancid piece of meat. Redemption be dammed when he doesn’t even believe in it. “And! I have proof that Alastor likes them~” Pulling out little drawn post-it-notes from her front pocket, Charlie nearly doubled over while trying to put all of them onto the table in front of Vaggie, and you.

“I’m going to go back to my room.” You abruptly stand up, nervously grinning while shuffling out of their office. Having sat completely stilled while hoping that you can somehow divert the topic ever since the start of the conversation, you gave up. Completely disregarding Charlie’s attempt at making you stay. “It’s late, and I should’ve been in bed some hours ago…”

“Wait! I swear that this time I-“ Charlie tries to reach for you again, but Vaggie held strong. Nodding towards the exit, you mouthed her a quick thank you as you walked out, wishing them both good night while gently pushing the doors close. “I have the proof…”

“C’mon babe…” visibly deflating, Charlie sat herself back into Vaggie’s arms with a pout. She doesn’t have the heart to press this too deeply, so she pushed back her hair and give her a small peck on her eyelid, she always did have pretty eyes. “You know they’re not going to listen to you if you keep ambushing them like this.”

“I know, but I just- really love them both…” Vaggie raised an eyebrow at that. “And they seem so, nice together. Alastor always makes sure to greet them every day, they always wished him goodnight-“ she scoffed.

“They do that for everyone hun, and I’m pretty sure that bastard just do it because…well, who knows? He’s weird, who knows what he’s thinking…maybe he’s just trying to- toot his own horns playing nice. He does that a lot.”

When Charlie stays still, Vaggie really thought she could end this tonight, for both your sake and her’s. But then, as if was given water from the spring of life, with her back straight, she sat right up and held firmly onto Vaggie shoulders.

“But he’s trying so hard for them! Don’t you see how he’s spending so much time just hanging around them? Oh, and don’t forget that he asked them, specifically them, what they think of his radio show! He doesn’t do that for anyone else Vaggie! He brings them food when they forgot to eat. They told him about stuff they would’ve ever tell us without prompting! And you have to see the way he looks at them when they’re just, sit together and, and-“

“Woah. Slow down Char. Through your nose.” Even like this, she’s endearing. She held Charlie’s arm and bring her closer.

“You have to see Vaggie, he looks at them like…how you look at me!” Vaggie pauses. Charlie is getting to her, she have to stop her from talking or she’ll give in. She thinks about how miserable you would be sitting through an actual talk about this, it doesn’t help.

“And, you’re one of the most wonderful things that happens to me, Vaggie. I love everyone in the hotel, and I would give my everything for them,” knowing her, she would “but you.” She breathes, and Vaggie feels her breath stuck in her throat. “You are my everything. We’re perfect together. And I really love them, and I just thought…”

Charlie looked at her with such a soft and gentle look, her eyebrows slightly drawn together, lips jutting out just a little bit. “I thought he’s perfect for them, that they’ll be perfect together too. I know he’s not the best person, and you don’t trust him. You don't have to. But I think he’s doing his best for them, and they’re doing so much for him too...” their hands, held tightly together “So please, trust me. I genuinely think this can work out. They deserve to be love like I did too.”

Vaggie tries so hard to held strong, opting to stay silent instead of replying and stoking the growing flame, but Charlie looks at her with her big shiny eyes, and she caved.

“…Alright… I guess he haven’t really…done anything to them yet…” before Charlie could jump up in joy, Vaggie tries to get her focus back “But if he touches a single hair on them- woah!”

Wrapped in her arms, Vaggie barely able to get out the full sentence as Charlie rambles on. “Oooh, thank you thank you thankyouthankyou I knew you’d understand! Oh there is so much I want to do too-“

“Charlie, bit too tight…”

“Oops! Sorry!”

Coming down from her high, she stares into her lover’s eye with the brightest grin possible. It takes everything in Vaggie to think about how disappointed you’ll be, so she closed her eye and takes a breath. “We have to let them sort it out themselves, though. No matchmaker.”

“But-”

“You know how closed off they can be. Give them time Charlie. They can find their own way home.” Like that, Charlie smiles a smile so bright and gentle, reserve only for Vaggie. “Like you and me?”

And all she can think is that this might not be that bad after all.

“Like you and me.”

----

“So...thissss is what the youth are…into?”

“Arguably, it’s somewhat better than what I have as a kid.”

Pentious squinted at the device in his hand, clawed hands carefully swipe through your ‘carefully curated feed’, whatever that means. You sat next to him on your balcony, various knick knacks on the side table he insisted you need, hands considerably less clawed holding a book you’ve never managed to get through past the 10th page, as you only ever try to read it when the moon is blue and you always ended up forgetting the previous pages, something he learned while he was helping with cleanups.

He’s flustered when you laugh at a joke without needing to look at the captions in the video, wanting to pretend he completely understood what just happened. It takes you a bit to calm down and explain to him what was so funny, it only serves to confused him further. You grin and handed your book over to Frank without putting a bookmark in first (who then immediately turns the page and started narrating half-way through to the other eggs), reaching for the phone.

“I’ll put on something a bit easier to get used to, is that ok with you?”

“But, aren’t we learning how to be ‘hip’?” you cackle, he tries not to shrink into himself.

“We can leave that for some other day i think, you don’t need to be hip or anything right now. And besides,” handing him your phone, he minded his claws, “I think you’re cool on your own.” You hum and turn to an open sketchbook on the table, picking up a pencil, you start to sketch one of the egg boiz running about your room.

Pentious nearly burst into tears, he should’ve known his friends (or, you) would’ve never made fun of him. Turning to your device again, his attention is immediately captured by a cat video.

You two stayed like that for what must’ve been an hour or two, occasionally checking up on what the other’s is doing. (he would show you the cutest video, you showed him your barely intelligible sketch. He feels like you’re sketching his nightmare he said, you’re flattered). With almost all of his eggies already tiring themselves out some time ago and gathered around both of your feet (and his tail), bundled up in your duvet and pillows. Except for egg boiz number 3, who’s in his lap as both are captured by a video of a dog getting a haircut (a mini-American shepherd, you chimed in happily that it’s one of your favorite video).

Then, the calm afternoon was broken by a singular knock to your door. You and your still cognizant companion(s) look up from your respective entertainment at hand and stare at each other. You glance over to him, head nodding towards the door, he shrugs, growing restless, you pat his shoulder as you stand up and walk away.

Pentious really did try to turn back and focus on the groomers narrating a particularly endearing moment in the nine minutes long video, but he can’t help but be on edge when a familiar voice sing a greeting too loud for him to ignore, and he realized just who is at the door, your door, his new best friend's door (verdict still out on whether you consider him as one).

Taking a peek, assuring to himself it’s to keep you safe, he locks eyes with red and half of his soul descend into the ring below, the other half turns him right back to your phone when the red starts to raise his eyebrows at him. He can keep you safe from a safe distance surely, but when he tries to hug the egg in his lap to comfort himself and feels nothing, he freezes. Horror-struck, he turns and look at you, specifically your back, the other half of his soul joins the first.

Without him realizing, number 3 already slipped out of his grasp and is now climbing on your shoulder and interjecting your conversation with the gentleman, who is now full-on glaring at him whenever your head slightly turn away. He gulped, but he still put your phone back onto the table and stand up, forget to mind his still sleeping minions at his tail. Thank Lucifer they decided to stay silent for once.

“I was just going to stay in tomorrow too… maybe- oh, Sir Pentious? What’s up?” You stare at him, easy-going as always. Almost like you’re unaware of the way Alastor is smiling at him. Pentious can only thank whoever is in charge of fate for the fact you slotted yourself right between them, and cursed them all the same for the fact you can’t covered up the demon’s face.

Clearing his throat, he tries to steered his nerves and curb his stuttering. “I see that someone have rudely interrupt our study session. May I have your permission to…”

At the sounds of radio static grows, his words in turns wilted as he stares into bright, glowing red and yellow growing in volume. Luckily, you manage to pick this up and covered for him. “Oh no don’t worry, Al was just asking when I’m free to hang out with.” As you turn to that same terrifying shade of red, it immediately transformed into a charming smile.

“Why, hangout is such a casual term dear. I prefer to call it a trip! Much more exciting that way.” With his usual theatrics delivery and a backing of voices coming from the microphone staff he uses to give you a gentle knock on the head, clashing with your much more casual tone brushing him off, Pentious wishes he can see this as endearing.

“Oh you’re trying to goat me into going back there again.” That wasn’t a question on your end. Alastor smiles in amusement, but it strained when number 3 chimes in and tries to asked you where is back there. He’s extremely grateful the demon chooses to ignore it, letting you entertain the egg instead.

“I do not know what you’re referring to at all.” Closing his eyes and leaning a bit to the side, the demon bounces a bit on the tip of his shoes and sings. “Otherwise, it seems my presence is making our welcomed guest uncomfortable.” Pentious tries to stand tall for you and number 3, but Alastor preference for getting up close and personal is mincing his confidence to bits. “I guess I will settle for an extra visit by tonight to talk a bit more about your hectic schedule, if that’s alright with you Ma chère?”

You laugh a bit and agrees with him, saying a quick sorry while he brushed it off with a smile, adjusting his coat’s flawless lapel with one hand, the other reaching for yours. Lifted up to his lips, he planted there a kiss with a look that can passed off as soft. Pentious looks away the moment their eyes lock again, whistling like he hasn’t been blanching at the two of you.

As you turn to close the door, he could’ve sworn red dials were looking at him in the seconds you look back to him, completely in contrast with the life-threatening aura now stand outside the door.

“Haha, sorry about that. I didn’t have time earlier and he was busy, so…” you trailed off, explanation offering him nothing but more questions. “I’ll try to be a bit more mindful about this next time, yeah? Didn’t know he still held something against you.”

You want to keep doing study sessions with him? He perks up a bit at the implication, while choosing to ignore the second part, until his egg started speaking.

“Uh, boss number two, why does Alastor kiss your hand so much?” Number 3 raises his hand, still sitting snugly in your arms. Pentious makes a note to make him sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. It doesn’t help that you’re leading them back to the others, who also started to chime in with their own questions. He can tell this time you’re getting a bit miffed, smiles growing a bit taut and looking off somewhere, unable to let them somehow ruin your goodwill towards him, he cracked. “SILENCE! Cease with your silly questions right now!”

You look at him, and he would’ve shrink into himself if not for how you seem more surprised than angry, as your brows relax and you smile a bit, he let himself breathe. “It’s alright, they’re cute, they can get away with a little questioning I think. And hm…” you bounce on your feet in a slightly familiar manner, he sweats a bit. “-I mean, it’s normal for friends to be close, so I don’t see any problem with it.”

“Oh…friends can kiss each other on the hand?” number 1 jump up. You laugh.

“Of course they can. Alastor loves getting into people’s space too, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

He would’ve tried to say something and help you out with the questioning, but it hit him that at least in his time, the specific to the gesture was more of a formal greeting. But he takes into account the fact it's Alastor, and how whenever he sees you two together, the Radio demon always seemingly follows after your heels like a shadow tie too tightly, and he shivers. Anxiety fills his heart as he tries to navigate this thought.

“I do have to say, why is it that he tends to get so…closssse…to you?” You visibly stiffen at this, but as he takes your hand in his, trying his best to be tactful, still minding the claws, you stare. “Could it be…he’s trying to threaten you, dear friend?” he tries to recall how you comforts him in time of distress, and did his best to echoes the same sentiment to you.

“Whatever it is, you can share it to me! I will, uh- “

“You’ll duel him, right boss?”

his eggs chimes in where he falters, he follows their lead.

“Duel! Yesss! A duel to the death! That Radio bastard will regrets the day he-“ You squeeze his hand, and he drop his false bravado and let you seated him back on the balcony, letting number 3 dropped from his spot in your arms to the duvet covering the floor.

(with much less grace compared to you, but all the heart. he takes the fact you’re still around that he’s doing great.)

“We don’t need any of that silly. He’s my friend, I think.”

You fall back onto your seat, number 1 climb up to your lap with a question. “You two are friends? Like with boss?” sitting up, you sing an enthusiastic agreement while reaching for your notebook again. Pentious swore the sketch is looking more and more familiar by the line.

“Yeah, like with Sir Pentious! Al’s intimidating but he’s fun to hang around.” Hunching over while minding number 1 watching in your lap, your grin drops to something a bit kinder. He feels like he’s overstepping, despite the fact the room is void of anyone else. “He nice to talk with, I’ve never seen him shutting up on anyone else’s terms. That’s a good thing.” He wanted to say that’s a bit too barebone, even for himself, but then, turning to him with a smirk, you added. “Don’t tell him i said this, but he’s ssssuch a bitch sometimes. It’s fun though.”

Nodding with a much more serious look, Pentious takes your word as a command. “Not a word to my grave!”

“Hehe, that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Refocused on your sketch, you trust Pentious to be able to work your phone a bit better than before. He thinks he would’ve work it better if not for the tears gathering in his eyes, he takes the tissue paper you handed him without looking and wiped it away, only to panic about the long scratch he left on your screen. You laugh and assured him it’s fine, you can change the screen.

(verdict be dammed, you’re HIS best friend.)

(he took a peek at your sketch before you turn the page, and it hit him why it looks so off-putting. Antlers sprouting from two end on a figured too lanky to make out the physique of, but familiar enough all the same. He’d much prefer you go back to sketching his eggies, he said, you happily complied and he leave your room after with 5 torn note full of egg sketches and another schedule study session he pray you'll relay to Mister Alastor.)

---

“There you are darling! I was looking everywhere for you.” Calling out with joy, then stopping to take in the sight. He steadied you with one hand while you stop to catch your breath, nearly doubled into him. “I can see that you’re quite busy, seems like Nifty is giving you quite the run for your money huh!”

“Please…shut up…” you don’t need to look at him to know he’s enjoying this way more than you do, laughing at your utterly exhausted state. “I didn’t know there’s this much bugs in here… How can she even keep tracks of them??”

“Don’t feel too bad now, that one mind and health both are simply wonders to behold! Even I can’t keep up with her at times.” Trying to dust off your shoulders, he looked offended when you just swatted his hands away, waiting for an explanation.

“We’re not done yet, she’s just in the kitchen for a bit.” You pulled out your phone to check the time, Alastor squinting his eyes besides you, leaning over to keep watch and raising an eyebrow at the long scratch on the glass. “One hour before I’m free…”

“Thinking of giving up then~?”

“Yeah.”

Laughing at your tone, he takes your hand and twirl you, but not too much! Just enough daze you a bit. “Well darling, I would love to whisk you off with me for a trip downtown! I’m running low on good meat, and simply can’t afford to stained my coat while the tailor’s out of commission. But knowing you…” he’d look down-right sad if you let him. He can tell you try to keep your expression neutral, but your smile is growing to match his.

“No Al, an hour is-“

“An hour is an hour. Yes I know dear but it’s dreadfully boring without you.” Holding on still, he brings his face close to you, taking delight in the growing red on your face and you acting like nothing is out of the sort.

“You’ll survive Alastor. Nifty however…” As the sound of tiny footstep calling your name quickly approaching, he can’t help but letting a long, drawn-out sigh, backing off from you. A lost for him. You smile.

“Over here Nifty!” calling out to the little woman, you step away from Alastor to meet her half way, her stopping just before she hit your leg.

“You! I’ve been looking for you where have you been! I saw SOOOO many of them but they’re on the ceiling and I can’t reach them at all you've got to come help me – oh hiii Alastor!”

Nifty stops pulling you down the hall again just to give him a violent wave, dancing from one foot to the other and giving him time to catch up to you two, fully aware of your tradition from the moment it first started. Alastor smiles border on self-pleasing, gracious of Nifty’s effort to not drag you away just yet, less so the fact she would stares with such a wide grin. Nevertheless, he takes your hand again and bring it up, speaking all the while.

“Nifty, dearie, won’t you work our dear friend here a little less? I need them to-“ he pauses as you suddenly grip his hand and bring it up to your lips, too quick for him to stop you. And before he knew it, you both disappeared behind the corner yet again. Nifty voices and your cackle echoing down the empty hall way.

When he came back, aware of how the light flickering above his head now finally stabilizing itself, he laughs. Steadying himself, Alastor brushed off his coat and fix his monocle. Humming along with a love song slowly trickling from the microphone while walking the same way you and Nifty ran off to before. He have time to spare while waiting for you.

[cringefailvox]

overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

[kitxi-official]

Another wallpaper fanart for @bapple117's fic The Theraprist After chapter 30 released I spent about 8-10 minutes pacing around my house in excitement. To say I love this fic is an understatement

[xvxblahhhxvx]

Concept: After the Guild arc, the news wants to do a live interview with the people directly responsible for stopping the Moby Dick from crashing and saving the city.

AKA. Atsushi and Akutagawa

It takes a bit of deliberation on both parts, but the Agency and Mafia eventually agree, because they feel it will be good PR.

They both get trained, as well as doing some join practices, for how to speak on live tv and not sound like they want to kill each other.

On the actual day of the interview, Atsushi and Akutagawa are there on screen, Dazai and Chuuya are behind the camera to guide their respective orphan's and get them to smile more (or in Akutagawa's case, look a little bit less like he wants to murder the camera), and Mori and Fukuzawa are there as the leaders of the organizations.

So. Three generations of skk under roof while the tv is live? What could possibly go wrong?

(hint the answer is everything)

[herenya-writes]

To Kneel at Your Feet

So, uh, I tried my hand at a little Dreamling fic when a particular image wouldn't get out of my head.

~1850 words, Rated T (violence, non-graphic injuries, a bit of foul langauge), pre-relationship Dreamling set a few months after Dream escapes the fishbowl but before he's told Hob who he is

When a shadow fell over him, Hob figured he was fucked. Well, even more fucked than he already had been.

The day had started pretty normal. Term was over for the summer, and he had finally finished the last of the marking the night before, so he had let himself laze in the sunny patches of his bed until almost noon when the grumbling of his stomach drove him to the kitchen for food. The rest of the day had been syrupy slow, with a light frisson of anticipation running through. He was meeting his Stranger tomorrow morning for brunch, their first pre-evening meeting and the fifth one they had had since his Stranger had returned. So it was with a spring in his step that he had gone through the rest of the day, chatting with Mrs. Giles up the road about whether he could buy a few cases of her jam to serve at the Inn, taking a stroll around the park, mixing up a batch of scones. When Sasha called in sick, he had gladly picked up their shift bar-tending at the Inn, and even that had been lovely. A faster pace than the rest of his day, sure, but the night had been full of familiar faces and easy laughter.

He had been closing up the Inn and wiping down the last of the tables when the bell above the door rang. He didn’t get out so much as a word before the bullets were flying.

He managed to dodge them for a good while, but even his immortal body got tired of crouching and diving eventually. Plus, there were three of them, all armed, and only one of him. He had a bat and an array of knives behind the bar and an assortment of weapons in his flat above, but he didn’t see how he could get to either of those places unscathed. He’d survive, of course, but that could cause even more problems depending on how smart these thugs were.

His next dodge had been a bit too slow, and as he slid behind the sturdy oak of one of the booths a bullet buried itself in his shoulder. He snarled at the pain and pressed a hand to the wound on instinct. His immortality meant he’d survive no matter how many times these assholes shot him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the bite of metal burrowing into his flesh.

It was as he was leaning against the wood, listening for footsteps and considering his options that a shape blocked the light above him. He swore and held up an arm to guard his face on instinct, but when he looked up it wasn’t one of the thugs he saw.

In the muted light of the Inn, his Stranger stood, clothed as always in his black coat, jeans, and boots, a minuscule frown pulling at his lips.

Without thinking, Hob grabbed the hem of his Stranger’s coat and yanked him down. His Stranger went, and a millisecond later bullets soared through the air where he had been standing.

“Sorry, friend. You chose a dangerous time to stop by,” he gasped. He had grabbed his Stranger with his left arm, and the bullet wound in his shoulder was protesting loudly.

His friend’s face took on a pinched expression, brows furrowing in a way that would have been adorable in another situation.

“You are injured,” he observed, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder. Hob could listen to that voice all day, and despite the circumstances he could feel his heartbeat slowing at just those three words. “You are not healing as you should.”

Hob blinked and looked down. Damn, his Stranger was right. One of the side effects of his immortality was that any injuries he sustained healed rapidly. Serious stuff like disembowelment still took a long (and excruciatingly painful) time to heal, but the process happened much faster for him than a normal human. He had been stabbed in a knife fight once in his second century of living and by the time the other fellow had hit the floor the only evidence of the wound had been the blood on his skin and the tear in his shirt. A bullet hole should have shown evidence of closing by now, but it was still gaping open and bleeding freely.

“At least I won’t have to cut the bullet out later,” he joked, but the tremble in his voice ruined his attempted levity.

“There are very few weapons in this world or another that could harm you so,” his Stranger declared, and something like lightning flashed in his eyes. His expression turned stone cold, and in a fluid movement he rose to his feet and turned toward the gunmen. Hob scrambled up after him, biting back curses, but he stopped short when he realized there weren’t any bullets flying through the air.

In the space of a blink, all the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and gather around his Stranger, and Hob swore he saw recognition begin to dawn on the face of the lead thug as his Stranger stepped forward and extended one pale arm.

“Servants of the Morningstar, by what edict do you walk the Earth and seek the life of one to whom Death has denied her gift?” His Stranger’s voice buzzed with barely-restrained power, and something deep in Hob’s human brain told him to run and hide. He stayed where he was, though, and so did the gunmen, even as they trembled in obvious fear.

“Dead or not, the glory of claiming an immortal’s head for Lucifer’s throne room is undying,” the one in the middle declared. Hob was almost impressed with how even their voice was.

“You have attacked him in his home, unarmed and unaware of your challenge. There is no glory here, hellspawn.” His Stranger spat the word ‘glory’ like it was vinegar on his tongue, and all three creatures (he had thought they were human, but now he could swear an outline of fire flickered around them) recoiled. Still, they didn’t flee.

“He is unclaimed, Dreamlord. Glory or not, he’s ours for the taking!”

The shadows in the room deepened impossibly, and the air pressure dropped fast enough that Hob’s ears popped and every hair stood on end. His Stranger took a menacing step forward, standing directly between him and the gunment now. When he spoke, the power in his voice shook the floorboards and set Hob’s very bones buzzing.

“Is that so? Allow me to correct that oversight.”

His Stranger threw back his coat, and it melted into a midnight black robe. The folds of the fabric were ablaze with swirling galaxies that seemed to spill into the shadows that surrounded him. The power radiating off him now was equal parts strange and familiar, like hearing a song for the first time but immediately knowing the chorus. Any unease Hob had felt settled at once, even as the gunmen began to quiver and keen in dismay. His Stranger spoke over their sounds of distress, his voice firm and unyielding. In that moment, Hob had no doubt that he could make any declaration and reality would bend itself to reflect his will.

“I, Dream of the Endless, Shaper of Forms, Oneiromancer, Prince of Stories, King of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms, declare Hob Gadling to be under my protection. Harm him and know the unfettered wrath of the Dreaming.”

Hob had been a lot of things in the past 600-plus years. He’d tried his hand at just about everything that had held his attention for longer than a week, and he had even been decent at a fair chunk of it. Hell, he’d even been knighted once! Right now, he probably had enough wealth squirreled away in stashes across the world to keep him living comfortably for the next two hundred or so years. At his core, though, he was nothing more than a peasant.

His knee hit the floor before his Stranger even finished speaking, and he barely felt the way the movement shocked his still-bleeding shoulder. All he could do was gaze up at his Stranger, awe, in the oldest sense of the word, flooding him. Dream of the Endless. His Stranger had a name. His Stranger was a king.

He wasn’t sure what happened with the thugs after that. There was a moment when the Inn got so dark all he could see where the pinpoints of light in his Stranger’s eyes and the galaxies swirling in his robe, and the next the light had returned and his Stranger had turned that fathomless gaze on him.

He lowered his eyes. “My king.” His tongue was heaving in his mouth, and his throat was sand paper. There was a spit of crimson blood, his blood, on the hem of his Stranger’s robe.

“You would kneel and call me king? Even after the wrongs I have committed against you? I did not even grant you the courtesy of my name.” Power still rumbled in his Stranger’s voice, but it was leashed now in a way that sent a spark racing up Hob’s spine. God help him, but he had always loved a bit of danger.

He risked a glance up and saw his Stranger’s perfect lips twisted in a frown, his brows drawn together like Hob was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I don’t need anything from you that you aren’t ready to give, my friend. You came back to me, and that was more than I could ever hope for.” Those words strayed a bit too close to another truth—that he would have waited forever just for a glimpse of his Stranger’s face, just to hear a single word from his lips—but Hob wasn’t about to start lying now, not when this magnificent creature, this otherworldly lord, had deemed him worthy of his time and attention despite all odds. His Stranger had returned after over 100 years to sit in a pub and listen to Hob ramble about airplanes and smartphones and humanity reaching the moon. How could anything he had to say possibly have captured the attention of a king with no doubt a million other duties to attend to?

His Stranger regarded him, galaxies swirling in his black eyes to match the ones dancing across his robe. Hob tore his gaze back to the floor for fear of falling in.

“Rise. You owe me no servitude or obeisance, Hob Gadling.”

Hob wanted to disagree, but he kept his mouth shut and did as his lord bid. He bit back a growl of pain as he stood, and in a blink his Stranger was there, long arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him up with unnatural strength. Together, they hobbled up the stairs to his flat, and his Stranger laid him gently on the couch and let Hob grip his hand too tightly as he dug out the bullet lodged in his shoulder, seemingly uncaring of the way the crimson blood stained his pale fingers.