#my mc is me but it's not me but it's me y'know?

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: Honestly, I'm not a bit afraid that Belphie would cheat on me.

Satan: Because he always sleeps?

MC: Yep.

Mammon: But he still could, y'know? In a very discreet way.

Belphie: Are you doubting my morals?

Satan: ...

Satan: I guess even if it's twisted, it still counts.

MC: *laughs*

[shehungers]

FATHOMLESS

eldritch detective x reader |18+| 2.1k

you'd never noticed detective arsenè in the precinct before, even after a number of years working in the office. when you start to ask around about him, they confirm that he's always been there, but you're more worried that they're not mentioning that he has no face...

story warnings; dark content, dubcon leaning sort of noncon (blackouts and spotty memory), sexual content, grotesque + horrific details, this leans more mystery and uncanny valley than anything else, mentions of mc being a drinker, smoking, roughly proofread.

reposted from my deleted blog: theoxenfree.

please share your thoughts with me + reblog!

this is possibly a concept piece to a much larger supernatural, psychological piece. if you'd like to see that, let me know!!

Everyone at the precinct called him Detective Arsené, but they never said anything about his face.

It was simply that there wasn't one there, not that you were able to discern in any instance you'd seen him wandering the floor. You had blamed the long hours, glowing blue screens, useless eye prescriptions, corporate greed, and mixing alcohol with allergy medicine before you finally accepted what you were seeing was real, yet no one else noticed it apart from you.

“What's wrong with his face?” you'd ask anyone with the time to spare to listen.

“Who? Arsené?” they'd laugh, whether in disbelief that you were speaking about Watt City’s genius detective in such a fashion, or that they thought you were the funniest person in the office. “What are you talking about? He's always looked like that! Lay off the booze, yeah?”

Those responses had never been satisfactory enough, going as far to set you ill at ease for the remainder of your shift, sufficiently distracting you from furthering your workload because your mind always came back to the detective and his non-existent face.

“He looks pretty normal to me,” said a senior member in your division. An older man you'd come to know as forthright and virtuous with a history showing that integrity. He had taken eyes off his computer screen, bifocals aside, and pinched the high-point between his brows. “What's this about, really? I've worked with Arsené for years. You know that. He's been here since before I started. Good guy. Hard worker. Drinks too much, though. Just like someone else I know.”

But, this was the first time you had heard he'd worked with Arsené, let alone acknowledged his existence at all. There was no reason for him to lie; he had spoken without inflection, warily, almost accusatory towards the end when he mentioned the alcohol.

“Detective Arsené? Well, I think he's really handsome. He just has that look about him, y'know?” The next person you questioned was a junior at the precinct. A pretty woman who was all silky black hair and long, blunt nails that never touched a surface where they'd be put in peril.

She always used her knuckles type on the clunky keyboard, and did so as she went on, “I've heard he has a really specific type, though. I've also never seen him take anyone out, or take a partner on cases, now that I think about it. Isn't he just a stand-up guy? I'd say he's the sort to bring home to mom and dad, but I hear he's got a drinking problem. Why do all the hot ones have vices like that?”

She particularly enjoyed her gossip, especially if it involved the detectives at the precinct. You were positive she'd never mentioned Arsené before now. As smart as she was, she didn't look below the surface very often when it came to men, so for her to say nothing at all of the detective’s smooth face was mystifying.

After that, you started paying attention to Arsené in a way you convinced yourself was discreet, which meant slowly peeking your eyes above your computer screen to observe his movements across the floor. Always in motion, he stalked around the place with undaunted familiarity, maneuvering the razored corners of desks and blockades from doors and walls, and languidly sidestepped the oncoming traffic of bodies in such a way that seemed premeditated.

Practiced.

Rinse and repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

This staunch dedication of yours lasted well over a week before anything came of it until one morning you found him waiting in your seat, teetering a bloated manila folder on a thigh while bouncing it impatiently. A very real sensation of unease took hold of the back of your neck, like a cold hand stroking lightly at the downy hairs there until they stood straight.

You thought about pretending you hadn't seen him, swiveling around, and leaving in a burst of urgency. It'd be easy to call in to say you had a personal emergency or became suddenly, very viscously ill and wouldn't be able to handle staring at a screen for twelve hours. No one would ask questions because you were exemplary, always on time, and seldom took time off as you couldn't afford to do so.

Arsené’s head slanting sideways and the waxy, flat face pointing directly towards you prevented you from acting on that impulse, however. He gestured you over with a lethargic wave, though the jitteriness in his leg seemed to worsen from impatience into sheer excitability.

“Clocked in early, aren't you? You have quite the habit of doing that, I've noticed.” He greeted, voice simultaneously undefinable and velvety. It wasn't so deep that you felt like it was gravelly or reverberated in the same way a baritone would, but there was a heftiness to it that weighted in your mind, as if it were possible for someone to reach through all your blood, tissue, and bone and press down directly on your brain. “I've seen you come in a few times, hours before anyone else. And you know what I think? I think, ‘That’s the kind of person who keeps a place like this running. That's the kind of person we want here in this precinct. That's the type of person who believes in the work that we do and who I’d want as my partner’.”

As much as you wanted to get away from the horrid sight before you, the no-face and potent voice wriggling around the wrinkles in your brain, you couldn't bring yourself to do so just yet. Not while you had questions you couldn't find answers to, not while you needed to sedate yourself at night because they ruthlessly endangered your dreams and were thieves of peaceful slumber.

“I've never met you before,” you said, giving a cordial handshake when he had offered it to you. The skin of his palm was warm and humanlike, though his grip was all wrong and entirely too firm. You didn't convey this dissonance to him, though. “I've seen you around, though. Were you transferred from a different department or precinct? Everyone says you've been around for a long time, but I find it hard to believe I've noticed.”

“Oh? Well, they'd be right.” Arsené said, finally releasing your hand to take up the thick folder. “I've always been here, and I'm always here. Now, that aside, I've cleared it with the Chief and I'd like you to help me on a case that I'm stuck on. If I've read right, you're the most recent person who's looked through everything to update the records, correct?”

“Probably.” You didn't move when he rolled up another chair from a desk nearby. “I'm a Recorder. It's my job to go through files and periodically update them. I'm not qualified to help detectives on their cases, though. You'd need to speak to the Chief about getting an Assistant for that.”

“Ah, didn't you hear me? That's all been handled. Sit down. Sit down.” He waved you close, then took you by the arm to sit you in the chair next to him. “We have a lot to cover. I think we should start from the beginning and work our way through the evidence list, and then the interrogation tapes. After that, it'd be a good idea to revisit the site of the crime. Don't worry about clearances, I've got everything we need.”

It wasn't often that you saw the inside of the precinct after that day as Arsené particularly enjoyed his busywork and bringing you along for it.

Most days you simply operated as a Field Recorder by transcribing statements into the handheld device provided by the precinct to maintain a digital trail. The work wasn't especially difficult, but it did take a level of skill and technological literacy to be able to do effectively, more so to be the sort allowed to tail after a detective on his cases and still maintain an overall ninety-eight percent accuracy.

Despite your job dictating it as such, Arsené never allowed you to fade into the background or stand around as a fancy accessory to go with his title. Oftentimes, he utilized you as his sole confidant as he worked through evidence and suspects, waiting in revered silence for you to offer your insight (however weak it actually was), and afterwards only let you bask in a glow of confidence through streams of unending praise.

“Egads! Eureka! Genius! How is it that it never occurred to me that way? Truly, you're spectacular! You're divine! Who knows how long I’d be running around in circles if I didn't have you as my partner.” They were all slightly variating compliments, though essentially all the same at the core and all very untrue.

You'd never forgotten about the things your colleagues had said about him, of his unrivaled prowess and veneration as the best detective Watt City had ever come to witness. He didn't need you. He had never needed you to solve a case, so you had learned to take his praise in the same vein as you did the silky-haired woman’s comments on men: uninspired and shallow.

When your disinterest became palpable, he seemed to only rely on you more as though he couldn't stand to be burdened with the idea of a rift. He had started calling you late at night about cases, going as far to come knocking at your door and walking inside reeking of stale smoke and a haze of booze, neither of which you could comprehend as possible considering he had no face.

“I just don't get it. I just don't get it! Where am I going wrong?!” He said so wretchedly, sides of his head cradled in his hands that were tucked between his legs. “This case, it’s getting to me. It's getting under my skin. I can't figure it out. Have I finally met my match? Have I finally been defeated? You! You’ve got to help me. It can't end like this.”

For all his dramatics, there was something obscenely cruel behind his words. Perhaps he thought you wouldn't have caught onto it because you simply a Field Recorder, just a person at the end of the day.

“Why haven't you mentioned anything about the victim? You're acting like they don't exist, Arsené. Is this about solving the crime so they get justice and the family gets closure, or is this for your reputation?” you asked.

He immediately stopped complaining and jolted upright, taken by surprise like he had realized this oversight and wasn't sure how to navigate around it. On that glossy slate of a face, one you knew was piercing deep into you despite a lack of hollow sockets and rolling gelatinous orbs within, you could tell he was now thinking of an answer.

“Neither,” was what he gave you. “It's neither of those. Come here. Sit down and talk to me for a while. I can't go home like this.”

The pitying part of you usually won in those moments where Arsené presented himself as his weakest. There was a part of you that believed he was taking advantage of your feeble heart, your kindness, your blind generosity because at his worst, he'd find a way to strip you down and fuck you.

At least, that's what you assumed happened. You never really could remember as the memory was pitch black, his body was unfathomable above yours, but you were sure you felt his cock penetrating you, his hands desperately fondling your flesh and fat like there was too much to touch yet too little time to feel it all. He said things to you inside your head, words that you couldn’t seem to piece together yet ignited the tension between your legs, lit your skin on fire, and delivered lewd, high-pitched sounds to his ears that he reveled in.

He never left you a mess and he never spoke about those times after they happened. Since you were never sure of them yourself, they suffered the same indifference as his praise and the days simply moved onward in a similar way.

“Another case solved!” Arsené cheered, lifting a stout mug in the air for you to reciprocate with the long stem of your wine glass. It was a fragile tinkling sound, a gentle vibration up your fingers and into your wrist as you toasted his success. “I couldn't have done it without you, my beloved partner! If it's you and I, I could do this forever.”

You swirled the liquid inside; a light and dry, raspberry and vaguely earthy smell wafted up your nostrils before you tasted it and let your cheeks pucker. As you drank, you watched as Arsené lifted the stout towards the expanse of taut, clear skin that should've been his face, and saw liquid inside empty into nowhere.

[lonely-north-star]

thank you for the tag satang and ven !!! 🫶 i remember going crazy when this card came out ajwjd

no pressure tags: @the-auguer @violet-turning-violet @mammomlette @kelotalks @viczen33

cute thing im coming up with

this picrew of yourself and your current hyperfixation !!

no pressure tags @pearlzier @julesssyy @reidsfavoritegirl @whitney23317 @willowsblanket @flowercrownsandtrauma @rottenletter

[nubeesart]

Day 3 AND 5: Mammon/Leviathan

idk I just figured this could be something that happens from time to time. Trying to divide your time between 7 demon brothers can be difficult, specially when one of them is feeling a little bit too impatient to wait for his turn.

@obeymetournaments's obey me month list can be found here.

[wikipediadogdotnet]

well. i missed them maybe a little bit. let’s never speak of this again

[cookiesandbiscuits]

Cookie's Writing Challenge Day Four: Excitement

Prompt of the Day: Excitement

Featured Characters: Elyssabeth Alcyone, Eris Alexander, Margarette Camellia Sanchez, and Lucifer

Genre: Fluff

Summary: The family's going on a surprise trip, and the two kids are so excited that they couldn't fall asleep. Fortunately for them, Mama's here to help!

A/N: Hearing Solmare's announcement was the final push I needed to finish up this fic and post it (writing it out of spite lol). This was stuck in my drafts for a YEAR 💀

Also, consider this as a part of my OM Timeskip AU.

With that being said, I hope you enjoy this little family fluff.

Note: Italicized words' meanings at the end.

Warning: NOT PROOFREAD (my head is still pounding from doing schoolwork so this may be a little incoherent 💀)

Cookie's 18th Birthday Bash Countdown Event

Cookie's Writing Challenge Prompts

< Day Three: Rest

In the late hours of the night, the usual noise of the House of Lamentation is reduced to a peaceful quiet as the residents doze off to dreamland.

This night, however, was different.

Soft giggling can be heard from the room of the youngest members of the family.

"Ate, do you think we'll visit a museum this time?" The young boy, Eris, asked his sister Elyssabeth who was lying at the bottom bunk of their bed.

"I'm not sure, but I hope we'll visit the seaside again. The sunset we saw before was really pretty."

"Ooh! And what if this time we'll make an overnight stay and make a campfire like those in the movies!"

This time, he peered down to look at her.

"Wouldn't that be awesome?"

Elyssabeth giggled in response as she began to imagine the scene.

"Elyssa? Eris? Why are you still up?"

Hearing their names, the two children turned to see the figure standing by the door.

"Mama!"

There stood Camellia with a questioning look. In her hands was a tray with two glasses of milk on it.

Closing the door behind with magic, she made her way to the bunk bed and asked, "Too excited to fall asleep?"

The children nodded.

"I thought so," Camellia smiled softly and placed the glasses on the bedside table.

"Mama, are we going to a museum tomorrow?"

"Or at the seaside again for an overnight stay and do a campfire at night?"

She couldn't help but chuckle at the twins' questions. It seems like they're really excited for this trip, she thought.

"Maybe, maybe not. Who knows..." she says in a teasing lilt.

"The only way to find out is if you wake up tomorrow on time for the trip, so you really need to sleep now."

Eris whined at her reply. "But Mamaaaa, I have to know! Tell us... pretty please~?"

"But then it wouldn't be a surprise anymore, wouldn't it...?"

Camellia paused. An idea had just formed in her mind.

"How about this? What if I stay here and we can make a pillow fort? Sounds good?"

Upon hearing her suggestion, Elyssabeth and Eris immediately lit up and hurriedly brought their pillows and blankets on the floor.

"Are you done with your milk?" Camellia asked as she finishes arranging the pillows and blankets.

"Yep! All finished!" the children answered, putting the empty glasses back on the table.

She smiled and patted the spaces beside her.

Elyssabeth was the first to lie down inside the pillow fort, followed by her younger twin.

Camellia was the last one to lie down, ensuring that the two was comfortable enough first.

"Mama..." Elyssabeth softly called.

"Yes, my little chestnut?"

"Can you tell us the story of the Sun King and the Flower Maiden?"

"Are you sure? You've heard it several times now."

"It's my favorite," the young girl replied.

Camellia sighed before smiling. "...Alright."

Once upon a time, there lived a young maiden in a faraway village. She was the daughter of the village chief and was known for her remarkable beauty.

Every day, she would always bathe in the river before sunrise, and the moment she finishes, the sun is already appearing from the horizon. And every time, she would comb her long, silken hair and watch the sun ascend while weaving a flower crown that she would wear.

She would then place fresh flowers from her garden on the village's makeshift altar as an offering to God.

Unbeknownst to her, the Sun King who travels around the world every day in his golden chariot would watch her as she goes on her day, and he eventually fell in love with her.

The Sun King wanted the maiden to know how he feels towards her. But he wasn't human like her. He doesn't have a mouth that he could use to declare his love for her.

Then one afternoon, as the Sun King prepares himself to return to his home, he saw the maiden sleeping peacefully under the shade of a huge tree. He was so mesmerized by her beauty that he couldn't help but touch her face with his golden rays and accidentally taking her with him in his golden chariot.

However, the Sun King realized that as much as he loved her, he wouldn't be able to bring her back to his celestial home. So with a heavy heart, he slowly placed the maiden back to where she was sleeping and left. The maiden woke up after that, thinking that all that happened earlier was only a dream as she watched the sky's different colors caused by the setting sun.

But that brief contact between the Sun King and the maiden resulted to something, and many moons later, it was found out that the maiden was carrying the Sun King's child in her womb.

The maiden's father, the village chief, asked her daughter how it happened. But the maiden could not answer, for she doesn't know that the Sun King was the father of her child. This angered her father, and he banished the poor maiden from the village.

Saddened by this, the maiden visited her flower garden, her tears wetting the grass before she went to the makeshift altar and prayed.

In the following days, the maiden walked along the track beside the river. Her food were the wild fruits she found, and her shelter the shade of the trees. And there, she gave birth to her and the Sun King's daughter. The child, being the Sun King's daughter, has fair skin and a round face and beautiful eyes.

Meanwhile, back in the village, the flowers slowly wilted without the maiden's presence. The village also became gloomy since her banishment.

The village chief, realizing how lonely it was without his one and only daughter, ordered his men to find her and bring her back.

The moment the maiden returned to the village with her newborn daughter, the village was once again filled with joy and the flowers bloomed and became vibrant again.

"...And they lived happily, ever after."

As if on cue, the door opened the moment the story ended, revealing Lucifer on the other side.

"Shhh... they just fell asleep," said Camellia in a hushed voice.

"Then you'll be sleeping here, I take it?" Lucifer replied in a similar tone.

"Mm... You could sleep here too, you know? There's still some space."

There was a moment of silence before the Avatar of Pride joined the three inside the pillow fort and lied beside Elyssabeth who was now sleeping soundly.

Camellia softly smiled at the sight.

"They were so excited for the trip tomorrow, I can't help but hope they enjoy it a lot."

"Then all the more reason to ensure that things will go smoothly tomorrow," Lucifer hummed, mirroring her smile with his own.

Looking at him, a small thought came to her mind before closing her eyes.

Sana hindi matapos ang mga ganitong sandali.

"Good night, love."

"Good night."

Ate - an honorific in Filipino which is used to refer to an older sister or a slightly older woman.

The Sun King and the Flower Maiden - a folk tale that tells the reason why flowers seem to bloom a lot during the month of May. The original title is "Bakit Mabulaklak Ang Buwan ng Mayo" (lit. Why is the Month of May Flowery?) (I'm the one who came up with the title used in this fic lol).

"Sana hindi matapos ang mga ganitong sandali." - "I hope these moments would never end."

Tags: @officialdaydreamer00 @identity-theft-101 @the-clockwork-fiend @cloudcountry @twst-beam @yourlocalgrass @amberrskiies

[roboticutie]

It's a side-mission that I don't think many end up doing, at least from the lack of talking about it I see, but still. The figurines. If you succeed a check in the pawn shop, you can take a figurine of a headless soldier on a horse. If you've done that, when you inspect the stained glass Dolores Dei you can get the task to give her any and all figurines you can find. Perhaps you can one day. Even when you get this task, though, it feels odd- it confuses your Logic because Dei has long since passed, but... Maybe you can give her these gifts somehow? You can find another figurine in the unplayable Wirral expansion pack (I only found it bc I didn't know you couldn't play Wirral w Kim). There are only these 2, according to the wiki, and I have not found more.

This task is another moment where the writers really manage to emulate that feeling of not only loss, but lost-ness that you get a few times in the game. When I did this task I thought it would be something extraordinary, maybe vaguely supernatural as there are a few things confirmed to be unexplainable happening with and around Harry, y'know? I had hope and intrigue and didn't even realize how strange and rare it must be to get this task on accident bc after typing it out I realized the starting parameters were VERY specific and easy to miss, actually. And I was so excited to find who to give it to, maybe a lost shrine, or someone reaching through a spot of pale and time, maybe when I found 3 or 5 I could lay them at her shattered feet and look behind the glass, something odd and unexplainable.

Then I met her in the dream. And just before it ended I was reminded that I'm supposed to give Dei the figurines. And that's when it dawned on me what Harry had forgotten, and I knew what he'd done to his memory of Dora by combining the two, and... It was so sobering and desolate. It felt the same way the end of a party feels, when you're the last to leave. The balloons are still up, but there's streamers on the floor, crumbs on the plates, bowls of snacks emptied, walls that held and echoed laughter are silent. The after image of something amazing, left only with the memory and the knowledge that that moment will never, ever happen the same way again.

You fulfill this task by giving all found figurines to Dora in the final dream.

And it does nothing. It doesn't work. Nothing will work. She would have liked them once, but like Dei, that Dora is dead. She died years ago and the Dora that remains is far, far away now.

Just like when I had no idea the carriage was Harry's until Kim spelled it out for us 2 hours later after chatting and whistling and relaxing; the figurines made what Harry was feeling and going through dawn on me so personally. I can't explain it in words well enough. I was so disappointed the figurines weren't some greater purpose, I was sad this was all we were holding onto them for, I was disappointed in Harry for trying to use trinkets to win her back, I was upset that they didn't do anything good, she didn't even want them; and I knew that's what Harry felt in that moment, too.

It's a level of "Show, don't tell," that not many writers set themselves up to be able to achieve. Even in this game there are only a handful of moments that are able to put you into Harry's headspace so precisely, and all of them are very specific and rely heavily on context given or lost on the player. It's impressive. I think about those figurines a lot.

[aiscapades]

this is the first and only time i will be blatantly nsfw on tumblr dot com

ais saying "sing for me, little sparrow" in that very specific circumstance :)

[not-poignant]

Hi! I’m really enjoying Stain! I started reading it right after finishing Wind because I loved your writing so much, it’s actually got me back into reading fanfic after a long slump, so thank you for that! I know this is a ridiculous ask and I’m sorry for even asking, but I was just wondering if the therapist character is going to be prominent moving forward? Tim is the name of my abuser and I know it’s silly but I find it pretty triggering seeing that name when I’m not expecting it. It caught me off guard in the last chapter and now I’m just a bit shaken and worried that it’s going to kill my enjoyment of the rest of the fic. Basically I’m just wondering if he’ll be there a lot and specifically mentioned by name? Again sorry for asking I know it’s dumb. Thank you for writing these beautiful fics, I hope you’re having a great day!

Hi anon,

As someone with PTSD, who has found character names triggering in the past, all I can suggest is that you stop reading and take care of yourself, until you reach a point where the name doesn't cause the same reaction in you anymore.

I've written a story about a character who shared a name with a rapist in my past, and for most of my life I would never have been able to do that, and couldn't even be friends with people who shared his name, and then one day I could write a long multi-chaptered story, and have a lot less problems with the name. Hopefully one day you get a bit more distance that way as well. Therapy and a lot of time helped, and also just not forcing myself to be around it until I knew I could handle it better.

But until then, it's not good to push yourself, and I am not planning this story, but the therapist is definitely mentioned again by name and will likely be in at least one scene in the future.

Since you already know this makes you shaken, the best option is to simply stop reading. It's not dumb to ask at all, you're looking out for yourself, and that way I can give you an informed answer. :)

Reading a story you're enjoying is not worth being triggered, and there are millions of other fics on AO3, and quite a lot of them are good!

[dcvilgrams]

❝I'm Not Human❞

featuring: Barbatos & my m!MC (Xhura Kusumoto) [he/him] written by: @houselamentation & myself rating: general (w/ language)

notes: i was initially going to convert this into an actual story-prose format but some of the nuances got a little lost along the way so i've decided to keep it as it is for the sake of the quality this is an excerpt from The Disaster Duo Chronicles' Second Arc: Our Endless Summer & details the events of when Barbatos revealed to Xhura that their pact allowed Xhura to turn himself into a demon [summarized here]

Xhura is written by me obviously; & Barbatos is fantastically written by Lia

BARBATOS

"Xhura, Xhura." Barbatos hates when force is necessary but has to pull Xhura's hands away from his hair— as gently as possible but quickly too, before more damage can be done. He holds on to both of them longer than necessary and implores him to listen, to understand,

"Sit down, please. I promised I would help you adapt. I promised that it would be possible for you to thrive in this world. I mean that."

—

XHURA

Xhura stumbles and falls back into his seat because he doesn’t know what else to do. Because Barbatos’ voice is as soothing as always and grounds him like nothing else but…

“You… you said…”

He said it…

“You said I’m not… it’s not all in my head…?”

Because that’s been his biggest worry. All the things they told him in the Human Realm were coming true. He was losing it. It was all in his head. He was being entertained to be made complacent.

Say it again.

“I’m not human.”

—

BARBATOS

"You are not human," Barbatos confirms. Xhura has drawn that conclusion on his own. It's possible he only needs a little more prompting and comfort every step of the way in order to piece the rest together. It is worth a try. Barbatos will help regardless.

He returns to his own seat and refills their teacups. "It is not in your head, Xhura. You were born a human and until very recently, you were a human." He pauses, not to make Xhura worry but to recognize that everything will change as soon as his next point is realized.

"In much the same way that Lucifer was once an angel."

—

XHURA

Much in the same way…

Xhura sniffles, but feels the words rip themselves from his throat as unbidden as they were the night he spoke them.

”’They faded from brilliant white to obsidian the whole time you…’”

The whole time he…

When he…

When they all…

”’What did it feel like… to…’”

“I fell.” That’s not possible. “How did I… I’m not… but I…” Frightened, confused eyes flicker up to Barbatos’ emerald gaze.

“How. Please tell me how.”

—

BARBATOS

Nodding graciously, Barbatos tries to put a previously unimaginable concept into the right words. "Don't think of it exactly like Lucifer's fall," he advises. "He was cast out, banished from the Celestial Realm. You— essentially, Xhura, you banished yourself, or tried to. You don't belong to the Human Realm anymore— you wanted, you needed to be a part of this one so badly you…"

He shakes his head. There is no making sense of this, only deciding what to do next. "You should not be able to but you are making it happen. It may be due to a part of my power I did not intend to give you and there is also the fact that a human needs a soul and some certainty in the life they lead."

All of this on top of the fact Xhura is still learning to control his access to Barbatos' power, to cope with what is left of his soul… it is not an enviable time in the former-human's life. But beginning to accept and understand it remains the first and most important step.

—

XHURA

“I’m manifesting… unimaginable demonic bullshit on myself. I’m literally faking it until I make it.”

To put it in as eloquent simple terms as possible. Maybe it’s their shared bond but he gets what Barbatos is saying even though he’s really not saying all that much. He just… gets it.

“…The angel blood Ayla and I share. Our connection to Lilith. Whatever part of me… that was… chose to… do what my brothers did?”

My brothers. It’s his first time saying it aloud to someone not in the family. Yet he doesn’t do it as a conscious thought, nor does he consider changing his phrasing. It’s right.

It really is.

—

BARBATOS

In the [equally tense] kitchen, Barbatos nods. He still hopes Xhura can find this truth mostly on his own, supported but not led to anything before he's ready for it but that point deserves acknowledgment.

"Lucifer and the others fell when they realized what they were willing to sacrifice for Lilith's safety and autonomy, perhaps that they would all do the same for each other. And you fell when you accepted the truth of what was most important to you— the home, the love, and life you wanted, and what you'd be willing to give up to achieve and keep it."

—

XHURA

Now that he’s sort of not really calming down from his panic, Xhura reaches for his hip for comfort. Can’t help the way he thinks what if I could give him a similar mark, my version of a pact…

“So what happens now? Or going forward? Any of it?”

—

BARBATOS

"Going forward…" Barbatos nods to himself and then to indicate Xhura's teacup. It should still be warm enough and the relaxing properties certainly won't hurt him now.

"I can tell you now that I am seeing you and your future more clearly than I was earlier. My part in helping you is still in teaching you more about the power and how to use it— it bears repeating that you are accessing more of it than I ever believed possible —and keeping your knowledge in check.

“We can continue regular checkups once you're back in school to make sure the horns are not hurting you and to see how you are adapting emotionally. It's been a long day for you Xhura. My offer for tea is good for tomorrow as well but I suggest you get some sleep in the meantime."

—

XHURA

Xhura holds up a finger. “Pardon my French… but can we back the fuck up a few steps?” He says it comically, almost cheerily.

“Why would the horns hurt me? They’re clips.”

—

BARBATOS

"I see." Barbatos does not retract statements even when they are misunderstood or shared a bit too early. If the fallen-human is feeling any sensations of attachment where the clips are placed, he is not ready to accept or admit it.

This time, at least, it is simple enough to validate Xhura's concern. "Prolonged exposure. If you're wearing them in the same place daily, it'll take getting used to and there might be a little pain." Maybe he'll explain the truth later.

[cephydeluxe]

"goddamn, i hate fe fates so fucking much", i say, knowing damn well i sunk 500+ hours into all three of the routes and spending countless hours rewriting it in my head for no reason other than my own enjoyment-

[privilegedjester]

have this idea for a story that's like one of the best I've come up with but everything I have written out for it so far is just sooo cute and it's not meant to be cute!! I'm not a Super Big horror person but that's what I want out of it! there are TWO developed characters in the entire thing because pov character cannot recognize other people! (it's kinda a steampunk vibe so they're like. blank faced machinery. idk I'll flesh it out more later) but it's like. he literally is not human enough to even comprehend others of his own species. he doesn't know who he is anymore, not really, because he's become so comfortable in the perspective the only other real, existing character has of him. and everything I have in my head right now has been OMG THEY CAN GO ON CUTE DATES literally I have a whole scene in a coffeeshop planned out. what am I doing man. even my working title is adorable and absolutely not meant for this

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

i want to do a silly drawing of my old avatars / at least some of them interacting but the problem is i have . Way too many

[reitziluz]

i can't help myself, if i see a challenge i need to puzzle it out.

tonight it lead me to check out the vending machine isekai.

... surprisingly alright, hilariously matter of fact about the fanservice-adjacent topics. tho i only watched a couple eps so idk if it goes places later.

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: *live on Magicam* Y'know, since I'm away from home and I've got no family to celebrate the holidays-

MC: I decided to randomly visit my friends' houses to see if they would let me spend it with them- and they didn't disappoint.

MC: Say Hi, Mommy Leech!

The Leech's Twins' mother: *waves at the camera*

The comments:

Ace: Bruh, isn't it freezing there right now?

MC: I'm frost-resistant. ^^

Ace: Bitc-

Azul: They are heavily stocked with potions.

MC: @Azul Shh... 🤫

[stellacendia]

I've got a complicated history with the concept of romance. I had a relationship in high school that, while technically romantic, was more or less "I like you the same amount as my other friends except we kiss sometimes." I've always had friendships that were incredibly intense, at least on my end. And when the person on the other end of that friendship was single, I felt that intensity was... more or less returned enough for me to be content. Not everyone values friendships like I do, I get it. Good enough for me.

Then that friend would get a romantic partner, and suddenly it felt like I mattered way less. And, god, I've always tried to be reasonable about it, I've tried to be understanding and nice. Of course my friend wants to spend a lot of time with their partner, especially when the relationship is new. Of course the partner is important too, of course romance is important to my friend. I can't be selfish and deny my friend time with their partner. I should try to be friends with the partner so that we can all spend time together. No, it's definitely not third-wheeling, not when we're all friends with each other!

But yeah, I felt replaced. Also horribly guilty for feeling replaced, but to me.... that friend was the most important person in the world. I'd do anything for that person, no questions asked. Follow them to the ends of the earth, let my entire universe revolve around them. (Is this healthy? Maybe not. Probably not. Did it anyway. Don't know how not to.) And it just fucken sucks when that person simply won't offer the same devotion in return. They'll offer it to their romantic partner, because the romantic partner is always more important than any platonic relationships. They'll offer it conditionally to me, when they're between relationships, only to drop me again the moment they start up another romance.

It's this messy cycle that keeps me endlessly questioning whether or not I'm really aromantic. Cause most of the time I feel like I am! I do not and have never needed romance. And then I catch myself daydreaming about a future where I have a partner that acts in all the ways a romantic partner does and have a mini identity crisis.

And I think, I've figured it out. I don't actually want a romantic relationship. What I want is for someone to finally offer me back the same kind of devotion most commonly found in romantic relationships, the same kind of devotion I offer my closest friends. For once I want to be somebody's most important person, instead of always being second best.