#perhaps very differently from how YOU as a moth did

[mx-metronome]

-in a vc with a good friend, helping him on his moth voyage-

-relives Polite Scholar, giant ghost tree grows in cutscene, moth starts climbing up the tree to reach winged light instead of flying-

Moth friend: “The tree make ice sounds when you walk on it!! :O”

Me, a veteran of 2.5 years, having never even KNOWN or TRIED that:

[genshin-scenarios]

spiderverse continued: you’re a sunflower—! 🌻

Summary: As requested, here are the continuations to my previous Spiderverse post here!

Characters: Kinich, Heizou, Tighnari-Cyno, Venti, Wriothesley, Lyney

Warnings: Mild depictions of a panic attack for Wriothesley. Major character death in Lyney ‘bad end’ option (there is also a good end so don't worry!)

Kinich

When interdimensional rifts start to appear in Kinich’s world, he's not-so-proud to admit it made him a little hopeful that instead of an abyssal monster, it'd be you that falls out instead.

His wish is granted—somewhat, when he sees you. Not spiderman-you, but the version of you from his world who he's never met before.

You tell him you’re a test subject from a governmental organisation who got lost in the rifts many years ago (they were researching multi-dimensions). 

That at least explained why Kinich couldn't find traces of a ‘you’ from his dimension before (he was totally not pining and definitely wasn't disappointed when his searches came up empty)

Other than his one-sided attachment however, Kinich did have a practical reason for staying in contact with you. You seem to have gained abyssal powers from staying in the rifts for so long, and you're a crucial key to figuring out how to close them for good.

At the end of your first cooperation, Kinich drops a line that he wished he could've said to the other-you: at the core of the sentiment, he was truly just afraid you’d disappear back into the rifts and never meet again. 

“Come to me if you have any problems. For you, I'll do anything.”

You stay quiet, giving him a small smile before disappearing to your hideout. Considering how you were just a lost test subject, you weren't very keen on going back to the organisation that used to own you… but more baffling are the flashbacks that keep entering your mind—memories from spider-you in bittersweet, rose-coloured lenses. 

It wasn't uncommon for you to witness the memories of your other-dimensional selves, but ever since returning to your original world, this spider-version’s memories have been invading your mind.

Kinich knows you aren't the same person, but he does feel a soft spot for you nevertheless. As time goes on, he’ll notice similarities and differences between this-you and spider-you. 

Is it possible to fall for the same person twice? It seems that no matter which version, Kinich's drawn like a moth to a flame (clearly, he has a type. Or perhaps there's some element about being soulmates that'll better explain this). He’ll earn your trust slowly and get to know the current-you as an individual, and pay the price for loving you twice by convincing you that he's seeing the real you, instead of an imagined spider-other. 

The first time you truly let your guard down is when he's tending to animals in the nature reserve—his serious face while carrying a very cure hippo calf in his arms was truly a sight to behold:

“What is it?” “Nothing—I just never thought an animal could look so cute.”

Kinich thinks for a moment about how cute the sanctuary's animals might be. You guys had hit a roadblock in your plans and needed a way to divert police forces away from the Abyss-monsters. He tells you his idea. Your jaw drops. 

"We are NOT using the animals as bait!” "They aren't bait, we're just... letting them loose."

In the city. To divert traffic.

"I can already see the headlines,” you cross your arms. “Spiderman endangers animals - menace or hero?"

Kinich thinks to himself that he wouldn't mind being a menace, if it'll draw this expressive of a reaction from you.

Heizou

It isn't uncommon for Heizou to rescue you as Spiderman, particularly when he's late for a meeting and was swinging to avoid traffic, or when there's a villain on the loose.

“Late for a meeting, Reporter?” He asks as he swings the both of you between office towers, knowing full-well that the meeting in question was with him. Heizou is also not above small-talk as he asks you about the famous detective you're dating, and what you like about him:

“I feel like this is a little bit too personal, even if you've saved my life.” You raise your brow. “But if you must know, Detective Heizou has many charming traits, down to his impressive intellect and close-combat abilities. I'd say he can even give you a run for your money.”

You'd never say something so grandiose to his civilian-self. “Do you boast about him to everyone, or is it just your way of letting me know you're taken?”

“What do you think, Spiderman?”

Heizou thinks he should buy you flowers more often for being his number one spokesperson, but you’ll only chide him for buying too many things for you.

“Another gift?” You blink in surprise, accepting the box from Heizou. “I'm starting to wonder just how much you earn as a detective. Maybe I should switch careers.”

“I’ll have you know that I only buy things with sentimental value.” His eyes glimmer as he watches for your reaction. Your gaze widens when you see the necklace that shines with the same green shade as his eyes. It doubles as a safety beacon that'd send him your location if you pressed it in an emergency—thoughtful as he always is. 

“Anyways, could you help me make out these words? The handwriting is horrible.” He passes a notebook to you. Fully ready to help with the task, you're caught completely off-guard by details to a restaurant, finished by a not-so-subtle ‘date?’

“Heizou… you're already my boyfriend, are the pickup lines really–” “What does it say?” “...Would the beautiful person sitting across me like to go on a date.” “You didn't read out where, but I suppose I'm not picky about blindly following you.” “Heizou.” “You can even blindfold me if you'd like~”

Tighnari-Cyno

Remember the thank-you kiss on the cheek you gave to Vulpes? Yeah… That innocent gesture has somehow ended up in the tabloids, and you've been badgered by reporters who want to know if you're connected to the Spidermen ever since!

It gets to a point where Tighnari and Cyno have started to escort you in public areas just to try and give you some peace of mind—meanwhile, Tighnari might be beating himself up a little for causing you trouble. Sure, neither of you knew some sleuthing reporter could’ve witnessed it, but the damage is done.

“Maybe you should try to prove to the public that nothing is going on.” Tighnari numbly suggests. “Vulpes should've seen the newspapers by now. If he has any conscience as a hero, he should at least put it on the record that you don't know each other and get the media off your back.”

“I agree. If this continues, you could be in danger of being targeted by worse people.” Cyno says. “I believe that the superheroes patrol every now and then, so you could just leave a message somewhere discreet but visible from the sky.”

That was the plan, until a villain got to you and kidnapped you first. At this point you aren't even sure if you should laugh or cry at your luck—as the situation unfolds, both you and the Superheroes realise that the villain had a deluded image of your relationship (he read too many tabloids and thinks you're dating Vulpes). One thing leads to another, and when the villain finally has Vulpes trapped, you play the last card that comes to mind—unmasking the bottom half of Lupus’ face and kissing him right in front of them.

The shock gave Vulpes just enough time to break out of his binds and take down the villain, but not without returning to you and Lupus with his ears red (not visible but you definitely could tell from his voice) and clutching his forehead.

The clarification with the media was well-thought out and sufficed to bring your daily life back to normal, but your daily life with Tighnari and Cyno? A whole other story. The entire fiasco and theories about you dating their hero-selves has made the two a lot more conscious about their crushes on you—which somehow manifested into a lot of trouble!

Cyno can't believe that you gave him your first kiss without even knowing it's him. And Tighnari, well… let's just say that Lupus is going to have a very hard time during their next patrol. (Love and peace will come when your polytrio starts dating as civilians. Being committed makes them less petty)

Venti

“Guess who!” 

“Who else would be able to break into my room?” You muse, removing the hands which have covered your eyes, accompanied by a melodic hum. “Don't tell me you're here for open-night mic at the teahouse?”

“Hmm… that would be a nice idea, but it's actually because I have something to show you.” Venti smiles. “Care to go for a swing?”

Even before becoming Spiderman, Venti always had a penchant for high-up places as hideouts for writing music. What you don't expect however is for him to have found a similar spot in Liyue—with a view so beautiful during the sunset that he just had to bring you to it, regardless of how tired he must be from travelling to your city alone.

Things get a easier when you gain access to a waypoint device and registered Mondstadt as one of your destinations. It's your turn to crash in Venti's room while he goes on patrol, waiting for him to come back while you keep an eye on his navigation and police radio.

When he encounters a villain who you've only heard of as a rumour before, you're quick to don your own uniform, send a distress signal to your teammates, and join the fight yourself. 

There's a certain level of trust required to work together in such a high-speed environment, but the two of you make-do with your earpieces and manage to take the villain down. This is the first time Venti’s meeting your teammates, and is surprised to hear that they've heard about him before—not as Spiderman, but ‘that one cutie’ from your home-city that you’re ‘crazy about’.

Suffice to say you turned to violent threats very quickly to silence them and save your dignity, but the moment Venti heard the word ‘cute’ it was over—he manages to trap you in Mondstadt for now while your teammates send the villain back to headquarters, waving the both of you cheerily goodbye as Venti, still suited, keeps an arm around your shoulders. 

When you've retreated to the safety of his room and settled for the night, right as you thought that maybe the comment has escaped his mind—Venti peers up from his laid-down position on his stomach, at you who's sitting up and reading on your phone.

“So, there's this hometown sweetheart you have a crush on-?”

You have a feeling that he might begin a hunt if you dared to joke that it isn't him you were yapping about. And while you know that Venti wouldn't hurt anyone—it's somehow hard not to feel like you're in danger when his eyes are glimmering knowingly like that. (You feel the skip of a heart—your heart, to be exact.)

Wriothesley

Things get bad when you—a renowned detective—are framed for a crime you didn't commit. 

It's normally you bailing Wriothesley out of trouble with corporations and the media, after all, not the other way around. So when you sneak into his hideout with a cloak and looking worse for wear, Wriothesley knows that this isn't like the past times a villain is targeting you—whoever is on your case now is out for something important, and you'll both have to figure out what it is before it's too late.

Most of this adventure involves you living undercover as a regular civilian rather than your usual, detective self. It's almost domestic as you befriend the coworkers in Wriothesley's underground business, and become known as just another reporter who wants to ‘find out the truth’ about your detective-self's scandal.

People underestimate you because you've been pretending to be helpless in combat, letting Wriothesley take charge—allowing you to pretend you've been knocked out and do some sleuthing of your own at some point. But when all of that is done, Wriothesley has to hide a chuckle when you throw yourself back into character:

“Oh, thank god you're back! I don't know what I would've done if you didn't come in time!”  “I can still see your weapon in your coat.”  “Ah… And just where are you looking, Mr Wriothesley? My eyes are up here.”

The two of you are so unserious sometimes that it annoys your opponents, to be honest. But when things take a serious, darker turn, you're both faced with the reminders of your past staring back at you.

Suddenly, all the bravado in your body bleeds away, leaving a gaping hole in your chest that’s wide with panic. It's suddenly hard to breathe, but before you can devolve any further, you’re anchored by a grip on your shoulder which draws you into a firm chest. 

Even suited, you can still feel Wriothesley’s body heat and the loud thumps of his heart. Whether it be from fighting or seeing the same fears as you, you buried your head in his embrace nonetheless—pretending for a second that the world has slowed down.

Even the greatest of detectives may one day face a truth they cannot handle alone. Who would've thought that the thing which’ll comfort you is akin to a spider, which scatters out from the same shadow?

Lyney

I've already written some additional thoughts about Lyney here and here, so in this post I'll write a sort of ‘how it ends’ situation!

Like the theme suggests, this is how Lyney knowing your identity might end for the both of you…

A common enemy appears in the form of a mad scientist obsessed with abyssal technology, who's summoned a monster from the depths of the ocean (the narwhal).

There's a long-winded investigation from both you and the House of Hearth (the Fatui may be antagonistic, but they don't want to destroy their home) which finally collides when you run into the Phantom Twins at a very suspicious site. From there on, the twins have been cooperating with Spiderman to find the source of the unnatural floods around the city, and even helped out with evacuations.

Your impression of the Phantom Twins soften when you witness Lyney push himself too much whilst saving bystanders, ending up with a sprained leg. You offer to carry him back to the meeting point, which he vehemently refuses via evasive remarks, before your insistence makes him falter.

…Ah, how was he supposed to avoid you like this? You're just too heroic for your own good.

You're surprised by how light he is, which he takes slightly in offence. But more importantly—he's burning up! Having built up a fever from working night after night and not getting enough rest, you hand the masked fatuus to his sister and tell her to make sure he gets some rest. (You know it's bad when he's not as annoying as usual)

Lyney is mortified when you hear about his absence (due to illness) at school and asked Lynette if you could visit to pass him class notes. At this point Lynette doesn't know you're Spiderman but does know about Lyney’s huge crush, so she agrees and even says you can hang around and try to cheer him up, since he's been moping lately (mostly because he can't join on missions for now, but civilian-you doesn't know that.)

He can't decide if he's elated, embarrassed, concerned (or a jumble of all the above) when you step into his room, notes from class and snacks in hand. His injured leg is hidden beneath his blanket covers. Lynette quickly disappears after giving him a thumbs up, leaving the two of you alone. It's your first time seeing Lyney so tired, but the softness that he always holds towards you remains nonetheless. Your thoughts even wander back to when you encountered him as Spiderman for the first time and noticed an oddness in his attitude—something cold in his eyes despite his warm tone and smile.

It's leagues away from the normal Lyney that speaks to you or anyone else at school. But a couple of months later, you run into him as Spiderman again and notice that the coldness is no longer there.

Strange. Perhaps it’s just distrust towards you when you were still a new superhero? The press hasn't exactly been kind with their criticisms, so you can see why some people might be wary about you.

But still, something about that encounter versus his usual self still lingers in your mind, and you realise after a while that it's because you care whether or not he likes you.

But that's ridiculous. You're just friends, right?

Bad end, warning for major character death: by the time you realise that Lyney isn't just a friend, he's already sacrificed himself in the fight against the narwhal, only to reveal his identity at the very end as he tells you to protect his siblings and the city. “Under regular circumstances, I'd very much prefer to be alive and do it myself—but there are some things that only superheroes can do. So make sure not to break my heart by wasting my sacrifice, alright?” Do I now feel more like a hero, to you?

Good end: in a critical moment, Lyney tries to sacrifice himself but you jump in the way. In his panic, he calls out your real name, just as backup arrives from Lynette and Freminet.

“You… How did you know?” 

It hurts that you're looking at Lyney with such terror, with a guarded clench in your jaw as you pick up a random weapon in an effort to steel yourself. “Answer me now, before—”

“Please don't be too mad,” Lyney raises his palms, finally coming clean. You eyes widen as he slides his own mask off, wincing from the injury on his leg which has reopened during the fight. “I didn't say anything because I knew the city needed you.” Then, a pause. “...And it's a little complicated when you learn that the person you like has also been your alter-ego’s rival.”

With a weak smile, Lyney has the nerve to pick out an item from his cloak pocket and fold it into a little rose. He gives it to you like a delicate piece offering, before retracting and giving you space. Before you can start to piece together a response, he’s fled the scene with his siblings—who judging from their shock earlier, also did not know about Lyney’s knowledge until this moment.

You can only hope that the three of them keep their mouths shut. But despite all the practical issues and feelings of betrayal coiling in your chest—why was Lyney’s expression still lingering on your mind?

He smiled at you like he was afraid of how you'd react.

…Did your feelings really matter to him so much?

[delirious-donna]

Bath Time Gone Wrong [Part One]

an: a huge thanks to @satorini for the prompt that produced this. Let's see if this goes anywhere... it sure has potential.

prompt: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: none, SFW

Series Masterlist | Part Two

You couldn’t believe your luck. Not only was your friend clearly loaded, they had immaculate taste as well. All of this you might never have discovered if it hadn’t been for a miscommunication that left you with no place to stay over spring break.

It would be wrong to blame your parents for forgetting that you would be coming home for the two week break, instead arranging for the family home to be renovated whilst they cruised to goodness knows where, but you still felt that stab of disappointment and hurt in your gut. One phone call to confirm dates would have fixed that, but no, what was done was done.

Instead, you found yourself in a penthouse apartment that your friend from college said you could use as it was currently sitting empty. Those were Karin’s exact words, “Don’t worry about it, the place is empty anyways. May as well make the most of it!”

Whistling through your teeth, you did a slow 360 spin of the entranceway. 

The moment your Uber had pulled up outside the building you had an inkling that the inside was going to be luxurious, and you were dead right. The penthouse apartment on the very top floor needed a code and a swipe of a keycard to access by elevator. Your fingers fumbled on the keypad in your nervous excitement, only blowing out a breath of relief when you began to move smoothly upward.

As the doors opened, you found that the apartment was almost entirely open plan with panoramic windows of the cityscape lining the length of the wall in front of you. “Well, fuck…”  

The decor wasn’t quite minimalist, there were too many home comforts to allow for that, but everything was clean lines and muted colour palettes. The sprawling couch scattered with one too many throw pillows, a basket of neatly folded blankets of every type of thickness tucked into the corner and a lush potted plant with long spiky green leaves all added that homely touch that true minimalist apartments lacked.

It was spacious but oddly welcoming with a rich scent that permeated the air, French coffee and freshly baked bread. You wondered if there was perhaps a housekeeper or someone that stopped by every few days to keep the place ticking over.

That thought was how you found yourself exploring deeper into the apartment, searching for an occupied room or some sign of life. There were no noises to be heard, no telltale signs that a terrified housekeeper might pop out any moment and scare the bejeezus out of you. What you did find was several seemingly unused bedrooms in different colour schemes and what you assumed was the master bedroom.

What a sight.

The bed dominated the majority of the room, a thick grey duvet adorned with pillows and a turned down fleece lined blanket on top. What kind of luxury lifestyle did Karin live that she had this kind of place stashed away, unused?

Perhaps you should have peeked inside the closets or the walk-in wardrobe at the very least, but you were drawn like the proverbial moth to a flame by the enticing peek of an en-suite bathroom.

Dumping your small wheelie suitcase and hold-all by the bed, you scurried towards the pristine black and white marble decorated room. It was safe to say you were giggling like an idiot, hands clapping together at the generously sized tub and did it have jets too? Oh my gosh, it did!

In your pure unfiltered joy, you found some jasmine scented bubble bath tucked away behind the bathroom mirror, completely overlooking the men’s razor and bottle of expensive cologne that sat beside it.

A bath would be exactly the thing to begin your new adventure. You could soak, shave your legs, listen to some music and contemplate what you could get up to with your two weeks here. Oh, takeout! You could order something super decadent and pretend that this was actually your place for a little while. 

The possibilities were endless. 

You set your phone up in the bathroom, finding a favourite playlist and blasting the music louder than you would have done back home. No one would mind, you were alone and the noise surely wouldn’t filter to any of the apartments below.

This was going to be an amazing spring break, you could feel it.

Kento was tired. What was new?

A weary hand passed over his face as he examined his reflection in the elevator mirror. Has he always looked this tired? Maybe.

He exhaled as the doors opened into his apartment, but only two steps forward told him that something was not right. Nothing had been touched or moved in the living area or kitchen, yet an unfamiliar scent mingled with the one he was used to. 

Slowly, he deposited his briefcase and shrugged out of his jacket to hang it in the closet by the front door. He kicked out of his too-tight shoes and two fingers loosened the knot of his tie whilst his frown deepened.

His home office was exactly as it should be. The same with his little gym studio. None of the unoccupied guest bedrooms were disturbed, including the one that Karin had long claimed as her own for when she visited once in a blue moon.

Had Karin decided to visit thinking that he’d be away on the business trip that was cancelled last minute? It would be just like her to do something like that, but he was certain she would have stayed away from his room—the master suite.

Now certain to find his baby sister, who was as far from being a baby than ever, somewhere within the walls of his home, he felt his temper bubble. He didn’t need to be disturbed during what was pitched to him as mandated paid time off.

Kento was already annoyed by the idea that was forced upon him earlier this afternoon, and it wasn’t until he reached his building did he begin to think perhaps it was a blessing. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time he had taken any vacation time. A week or so to unwind, maybe read for the first time in months, sample a new whisky imported from Scotland… 

The possibilities were endless.

He spied a small suitcase open on his bed, the contents a riotous jumble that made his head pound just to look at. A trail of clothing led from the bed to the bathroom door which stood slightly ajar. Perfumed steam escaped and his teeth grit together in irritation. Music played rather loudly in his opinion, a bright bubbly song with lyrics in a different language he couldn’t understand.

Did he dare to burst into the bathroom and scare the living daylights out of his darling little sister? The idea was tempting. The only downside being that he had no interest in mistakenly seeing her in some state of undress if she hadn’t yet made it into the bath. He would listen a little longer, wait until he was sure he wasn’t going to irreparably damage both his eyesight and his psyche before acting. 

Kento padded around the bed, pulling his tie off and throwing it on the pillow to deal with later. The top three buttons on his shirt unbuttoned easily and breathing became a little easier again. Not for the first time, his mood shifted again. It would be nice to see Karin, catch up and find out how school was going. There was never enough time during the holidays to really enjoy her company so maybe this was all working out for the best.

He was still going to give her the fright of her life though.

The sound of splashing reached his ears and he smiled. Memories of tormenting his little sister rose to the surface whilst he tiptoed silently towards the bathroom door. He could hear the sound of humming along to the music and he had to stifle a snort of laughter, singing was not her forte.

A strong hand gripped the edge of the door. Kento held his breath, preparing to yell. Silently, he counted to three and leapt inside.

“Boooo!”

You had never screamed so loud in your entire life. A man was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his features twisted in amusement but quickly shifting into sheer mortification.

Water sloshed over the side of the bath, bubbles going up your nose as you pushed your body low into the fragrant water. An intruder!

“Who the fuck are you?” You yelled indignantly, anger finally overcoming the terror ripping through your heart. Whoever he was, he was tall and incredibly pissed off. 

His blond hair fell into his eyes, a hand the size of a dustbin lid swiping it back only to highlight the furious scrunch of his eyebrows. Sharp hazel eyes swung between you and the wall, clearly unsure where to look. In other circumstances, you would have called him good-looking, handsome even but not when you were so very vulnerable.

He spoke, almost to himself. “You’re not Karin…” 

You knew that name, it was your friend’s name. This was her pl—Shit, this wasn’t her place. You could scream.

“I’m Nanami Kento, and you’re in my bath. Who are you?”

[1-800-apricot]

imagine being arthur morgan's ex-lover

Thinking about Arthur Morgan reuniting with you. An old flame that never seemed to completely go away. Whose blazes had engulfed the forest of his heart only to dissolve into a root fire.  

And then he saw you. And as he stepped back into that charred oblivion he could see the smoke rising from the ground. Embers and licks of flames begin to rise once more. And perhaps this is when it hits him. The flames of your love had never choked themselves out. Rather they’d moved out of sight. Surviving with what they could find.

And God when he saw you. The way the sun framed your features. The way you styled your hair. Even the way you dressed. After all these years. Arthur Morgan could’ve died a happy man with the sight in front of him. He was sure. He could almost taste the smoke.

You would spot him quick enough. And for that split second his heart raced. But the curve of your lips were quick to dull as shock took over your expression. A tightening in your chest. A feeling far from Arthur with that awestruck expression of his. This was suffocating. 

The look on your face did not get past Arthur. He should’ve just walked away and acted like he never saw you. But he couldn’t. Not when this was his chance to hear you once more. So he made his way toward you. And as he approached perhaps you should’ve fled. There was only ever one ending to this story. You knew it because the two of you had played it over and over again. 

But you didn’t flee. Instead you stood there and watched as he neared. Perhaps you weren’t much better than him. Perhaps moths did still live in your stomach despite the lavender you douse yourself in. The very thought was enough to make you start to move however it was too late. After years, Arthur Morgan stood in front of you. 

He looked different. Time hadn’t been kind on him but that wasn’t to say he looked bad. He didn’t. But it was hard to ignore how tired he looked. The way the sun had aged his skin. Or the way the years of cigarettes seemed to have turned his voice raspier. Through it all though? There were still glimpses of your Arthur.

Maybe that was the most sickening part. That past all that had happened, there was your Arthur. The one you would’ve never left. That thought was shut quickly though. This was not him and the person that was with him all those years ago is no longer you. Perhaps this did not register within his mind though. 

The conversation was slow. Rocky even. His unsure questions and your short, stunned responses. But it seemed within minutes you had found a rhythm and a groove. One that the two of you had so often moved and spoken to. It felt eerie. Like stepping into a haunted house. Except you’d witnessed what exactly caused the haunt. 

You couldn’t testify how long you stood and talked to the man. There were lulls in the conversation where you should’ve and could’ve pulled back. Where he’d led you to a dead end but then he found something else to speak of. It had been something that amused you in the past. But now it was exhausting. That was what it was meant to do though. To wear you down and make you give into whatever was being sold. Even if he didn’t show it Arthur Morgan was raised by a conman. 

And it almost wore you down. It almost made you hand over the last of your coins. Just to feel the heat of his love once more. To rekindle the fireplace flames of your love. But you had to remember. While there had been no man quite like Arthur that also meant there’d been no devastation quite like his. 

So the conversation came to a lull and he searched for more to say. And instead of taking comfort in the growing embers, you cleared your throat. The next words would be the end. You both knew it. The final flag flown in a useless war. You’d thought it would’ve made you more devastated. Like it had all those years ago. However this wasn’t a farewell to love anymore. It was a farewell to all the destruction it's caused. 

So you took a deep breath. Bile might’ve risen but you pushed it down. You declared you needed to go and he nodded albeit a bit numbly. You exchanged goodbyes. And you turned away from him. 

“I missed you.”

Damn you. Damn you. Damn you. It was so unlike him and you hadn’t seen it coming. But no one was around and perhaps it should’ve been expected. Even the mighty could get desperate. This wasn’t a decision though. There wasn’t a choice to be made. So you turned and spoke your final words to him. Words that solidified that this war of love was over.

“You’re the loss of my life, Arthur Morgan.”

a/n: this imagine was based around the song 'loml' by taylor swift. i'm thinking of making a prequel to this where reader originally leaves but i'm not sure. anyways hope y'all enjoyed <3

[anna-proxx]

pretty please can we have arthur morgan falling in love with hyperfem! reader? ur stuff is always so so yummy,, no pressure ofc! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

⭒✧⋆｡guns n' bows ✧⋆｡⭒

pairing: Arthur Morgan x hyperfem!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst (good ending)

summary: Arthur finds himself adoring a dainty woman who joined the gang a while ago. It suddenly becomes clear to him he has fallen in love.

word count: 3294

tags: high honor arthur, fem!reader, (mutual) pining, arthur being a sweetheart

a/n: thank u so much, dolly! i had a few ideas on how to approach this and decided to make it more story-based and focus on arthur's inner process as he realizes he's in love with the reader (as i would imagine it to go). if you'd like something a bit different, lmk! i've been wanting to write a hyperfem fic for a while now, so i had fun with it. also, i'm thinking about writing a pt. 2 where i'd focus more on the reader's pov and have arthur express his feelings more (be a cutie around her) and confess his love. <3

dividers by @saradika / @saradika-graphics

✮ masterlist

Arthur Morgan wasn't used to being gentle with people. His hands were rough and calloused and his muscle memory trained to draw his guns and shoot. They were meant to be a weapon, to protect and harm for the people he considered his family.

Perhaps he had it in him, but there was no reason to be soft and gentle – the world was just as rough as him and he was assigned the burden of fighting against it. The softest he could get was between the pages of his journal as he wrote about his thoughts and sketched owls and beavers and when he patted dogs and talked to his horse.

But most of those were away from prying eyes and frankly, the role of a dense criminal prized for his brawn comfortably fit around his overlooked qualities, as that was all he needed to be. To survive, to fulfill his role.

And yet you saw right through it. Of course you did, you had a good heart, open to whoever you saw goodness in. While some might write Arthur off as a rugged criminal only, you noticed his edges weren't as sharp as he tried making them seem to be.

His duties were violent, sometimes brutal, the earth soaking up blood of his enemies and his image reflecting in their eyes as the last thing before they closed them forever. To some, he was their biggest nightmare. He wasn't a good man, to believe so would be naive and foolish, but he wasn't all bad either, as some would think.

Your heart was big enough to accept his sins and leave the judgment to whatever was above, meanwhile you sought his presence as it brought you a strangely warm sense of security and comfort. Like moth to a flame, his different nature allured you. Hardened on the outside and soft-hearted on the inside.

Perhaps that was the reason you found yourself liking this big outlaw. Scooted towards him at the campfire, or sat nearby and watched him as he lied on his cot and scribbled something into his journal.

You might've been fragile and soft spoken, but you weren't stupid and your intuition on people was like a radar you could wholeheartedly trust. So you did.

Arthur didn't exactly know you sometimes looked for his presence, but he did notice you were comfortable around him.

It baffled him a little – you were so small compared to him, wearing lace and frills and cute little bows in your hair and yet you didn't seem to be intimidated by his appearance or demeanor at all. It sparked joy inside of him whenever you'd come to him blabbering about the rainbow you saw or gave him a soft smile as your eyes met.

You never treated him with judgment or revulsion, despite knowing very well your morals were against everything he was doing. Just how big of a sweetheart were you to do that? He never said it, but it meant a lot to him.

He felt as though you weren't even a part of all this. You were like a gem among roughened stones or a flower growing in gravel, reading in your tent and braiding your horse's mane while he washed blood off his hands.

And truth be told, because of that, he found you to be soothing and healing for his battered soul. It was so different, to be around someone like you.

You brought out a side of him he didn't know he had, one that was more tender than he was used to be. He didn't feel so angry or cynical, even after a job gone wrong. When he was with you, being gentle was easy.

At the beginning, when you first fell with the gang, it was doubt and hesitation he felt towards you. You were so... untouched by the world's cruelty, so innocent and open-hearted.

Arthur assumed you were naive and feeble, not only in the physical sense but mental as well. The world posed a huge threat to someone like you and he was worried you wouldn't survive in such circumstances. He was convinced you'd run after a few weeks but you did no such thing.

As the months passed, you stayed with the gang, patient and resilient while remaining soft and feminine. You helped where you could and offered a listening ear to anyone who needed it; even managed to get Arthur to open up to you when you two were alone. And you barely ever complained, even ate all Pearson's stews though you must've been used to eating fine food. And you lit up the space wherever you went. Your optimism was invincible. How the hell were you managing to do that?

It dawned on him he must've terribly underestimated you and his doubtfulness turned into admiration and intrigue. You were one fascinating little thing.

Things have been going quite downhill, so he kept checking up on you and you always had a warm smile to offer. You were still sweet and charming, even with the law on your tail.

You were his polar opposite, gentle waves of the sea splashing against hard rocks hot from the sun. Soft clouds concealing the sky after a raging storm. A calm rain on a hot summer day.

Arthur had no intentions of falling in love ever again.

But his heart was a sneaky little traitor.

Dusk softly illuminated the lake's surface when he found you sitting on the pier, your feet splashing in the water. You put your shoes beside you and held the skirt of your dress at your knees to avoid getting it wet. It was your favorite, white and pink, the corset decorated with little bows at the front. Your locks curled loosely over your shoulders, a light pink bow tying some of it at the back of your head.

You looked so vulnerable and cute lost in your thoughts like this, your feet creating creases in the water as you idly watched them. You had no company with you, only a couple of ducks swimming nearby and butterflies fluttering their wings around your head.

Arthur wondered what your mind was occupied with and before he could properly think it through, his steps directed towards your small frame lit by warm light.

You were pondering on the events of the past few weeks when the heavy steps on the wooden planks caught your attention. Turning your head to look up at the person coming, your eyes lit up as you saw it was your favorite one.

"Arthur!" you called out, your big doe eyes digging a pit in Arthur's stomach.

"[Name]. How are you?" His gaze lingered on you as he stood before you, his hands placed on the gun belt around his hips. You found the concern sweet. Instead of it being a casual phrase, his eyes studied you for an actual answer.

"Good, I think. What about you?" Your voice was smooth like honey and inviting, giving the outlaw something to lean into.

"'M alright," his voice rumbled as he shifted on his feet, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Ya like this place?"

You shortly looked around, taking in the view of the trees and dim sky reflected back in the peaceful lake.

"I do, it's such a charming spot." You looked back into Arthur's face, catching a hint of a smile on his lips.

"'M glad to hear that."

You could almost hear his goodbye that would follow but before he had the chance, you spoke.

"Come on, join me." You patted the spot next to you and slightly turned your body towards Arthur when he sat beside you.

Arthur was a bit at loss of words, always quick with his witty responses but uncertain around you. Your flowery perfume overcame him, then the sight of your rosy cheeks and full lips. You looked like a doll, looking at him through your long lashes with the most innocent look in your eyes.

For a moment your company made him forget about everything. He felt like just a man instead of a sinner, leaning into the silent acceptance you provided him.

You swung your feet in the water. "What did you do today?" you asked kindly, no trace of judgment.

Arthur sighed, recalling the day's events. "Robbed a stagecoach, had to shoot 'em guards. Met a few of the O'Driscoll boys too."

He wasn't one to sugarcoat things, especially when there was no reason to. You knew what kind of person he was and despite you never expressing disgust, he knew you must've had certain sentiments of him and they were all true. He was no better than the crooks he fought. And yet, with you, he wished he was.

Your gaze found his hand resting over his knee, barely dried blood on his knuckles.

"Oh, Arthur!" You took his hand in his, examining the damage with focus as you held his palm with both your hands, yours small in comparison to his.

Arthur's breath faltered in his throat. A lukewarm feeling settled in his chest and slight panic ran through his mind as he was slow to realize just what was happening. The warm touch of your smooth fingers was unusually intensive and he wished for the moment to never stop, as if he ever cared for such things.

He felt silly for it. What was happening with him? Why did he feel such fondness at your delicate hands cradling his, the slight blush on your cheeks, the flyaway hairs around your head?

He furrowed his brow at the unfamiliar tightness in his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat picking up on pace.

He hasn't felt this way ever since...

"Your poor knuckles," you mumbled while gently running your finger over the bruises. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen them healed."

Your tone was nothing but caring, as if Arthur hadn't used the fist to break someone's jaw. You put his hand away, putting yours in your lap as you continued bathing your feet in the water and watching the thoughtful look on Arthur's face as he softly looked at you.

Arthur cleared his throat, chasing all the crazy thoughts away. "And how's yer day been?"

You tactfully ignored the change of topic and played around with your necklace as you spoke. "Well, it was alright. I've been doing chores almost whole day, then went to Rhodes for some supplies with Tilly and Javier. He also taught me a bit of one Spanish song!"

Oh did he? A pang of jealousy struck him. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Arthur, everything okay?" you asked, your brow furrowed at the sight of his troubled expression.

"Sure, 'm... just tired, that's all."

You nodded, looking at the sky coloring itself in blueish grays. "Yeah, I might go to sleep earlier today as well, I reckon."

Pulling your feet out of the water, you started putting on your shoes while Arthur stood up, offering you a hand by the time you were done. You smiled up at him and accepted his hand, being effortlessly pulled up to your feet.

"Thank you, Arthur."

Your voice wouldn't leave his head, even after you walked towards your tent, disappearing from his sight. He walked to his own one in a trance, left with many unanswered questions in his head.

This wasn't like him, even less to be so confused by his feelings. And yet, as he lay in his cot that night, he kept going back to the moment at the lake, imagining what it would've felt like to brush his fingers through your soft hair or cup your cheek.

Another heavy sigh.

Only yesterday you were still just you. A kind girl they had rescued when she had nowhere else to go, a young woman who–

No, who was he kidding. The warning signs had been there long before; the warmth in his chest whenever he saw you, that little jump his heart did when you said his name, the joy he felt when you asked him for small favors.

It gnawed at him, the sense of knowing he tried pushing away.

He fell in love with you. Somewhere along the way, without taking notice. As complicated and messy it would make things, in a way, admitting to himself the feelings he had for you felt relieving.

How was he so stupid not to realize sooner?

He loved the way you got excited over making flower crowns and how you'd weave some for the girls. He loved when he saw you consoling and comforting Karen into putting the bottle away, or even being kind to that bastard Kieran. He loved when he found you playing with Jack, letting him put flowers in your hair. He loved your feminine gaze, the one that would capture all his attention, or how your kindness towards him made him feel. As if there was still hope for him, as if he wasn't damned after all.

But there was a tight knot in his stomach. He might've set himself up for another heartbreak. How could you want someone like him?

Arthur fell asleep riddled with contradicting thoughts that night.

The new reality of being in love with you gave him a sort of solace. But it wasn't until morning that he decided he could only do one thing – keep his distance. For both his and your sake.

You were beautiful and dainty like a rose, but he was the thorns.

Arthur did as he promised to himself – despite the stolen glances and wishful thoughts split in half, he would avoid you, though it wasn't as apparent as he's been so busy lately. Not like he would complain about that, if anything, it took his mind off you, even if not for long.

Above all he wanted to return to camp after a difficult job and be close to you, talk to you, feel your calming presence.

What he didn't expect with his plan was how much it would wear him down.

But the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, which he assumed would eventually happen, or lose his head for someone who wouldn't reciprocate the same feelings back.

He returned to camp late today. In the middle of the night when everyone was already asleep. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in his cot, his shoulders slouched as he got down from the saddle and patted his horse a good night, unsaddling him to give him some rest too. The night was quiet and tranquil, like peace after a storm, given how Arthur's day went.

It has been weeks since Arthur had realized he had feelings for you by this point and looking towards the tents, he couldn't help but wonder whether you were alright. He hasn't been around much lately, so he could only guess you continued to be true to who you've been since the beginning. With ribbons in your hair and a dreamy look in your face.

He sighed at the image. What a lovestruck fool he was.

He missed your sleepy eyes and the little wrinkle between your eyebrows when you were confused.

As if something listened to his wishes, a small figure emerged from the shadows and he realized it was you.

Wearing your undergarments, bloomers with frills and lace, you made your way straight towards him. Your hair was in two braids tied by pink ribbons, though a bit messy from sleep, and the loose strands of hair tucked behind your ear.

He froze in place, watching you get closer while his heart went a little crazy. A part of him was happy to see you approaching him, whatever the reason for that was. It made him feel fuzzy inside and that scared him more than any gunfight.

"Arthur!" you called out for him with a slightly shaky voice, not stopping your steps until you stood right before him.

Arthur fought the urge to reach out for you as he saw you small and vulnerable, looking up at him with need, his heart struck with fear when he noticed the little tears in your eyes.

"[Name], what's wrong?" There was urgency in his voice, a worried look in his eyes and panic coursing through his veins.

You held a sob as you spoke, hugging yourself with your arms, a few of the loose strands falling into your face.

"J-just a nightmare. I woke up so s-scared." You started to shiver as you recalled the frightening images. As soft as you were on the outside, you had a vivid imagination and your nightmares could get very eerie and gruesome, causing chills to travel up your spine every time the memory flashed before your eyes.

Arthur's instincts now clutched his heart tightly, a knot tying itself in his stomach. He hated seeing you like this, helpless, afraid and trembling. The sight of you awakened every bit of his protective nature and he didn't want anything more than to hold you and never let you go, even put his life on the line just to keep you safe.

He didn't think twice.

"Aw, c'mere," he proposed in a low warm voice, enveloping you in his embrace gently enough to give you the option of changing your mind.

But you snuggled into the hug instead, a small sob escaping you as you wrapped your arms around his torso, your arms barely connecting behind his back.

He was so warm and firm and you have never felt safer in your whole life. The anxiety was slowly mellowed out, filling your heart with affection instead.

Arthur breathed in your scent and it made him feel lightheaded, and to feel your soft warm body pressed against his felt like a dream.

You were so delicate in his arms and your exposed skin made it hard for him to keep his thoughts straight. He was a gentleman of course, but his heart raced nonetheless and he feared you could hear it beating against your ear.

"It's okay, t'was just a dream." His voice was soothing and warm, and it worked like a charm. He consoled you with strokes on your back, his big palms hot through the thin layer of your undergarments.

"What horrible thin' did ya dream 'bout?" Arthur asked, his embrace not loosening around you. He was quite happy like this, protecting you between his arms, as if you always belonged there.

You kept your face nuzzled to his chest, comfortably leaning into the hug.

You started talking about the dream and he listened. A monster, you said, something big and deranged sneaking its way around to its victims. You rambled about the details, your descriptions a mess as you spoke in loose tangles.

Arthur slightly smiled at your stuttering, it made you even more adorable than you already were, though he didn't know it was even possible.

He would kill anyone who'd dare to touch you.

"'M the only scary thing 'round here 'm afraid," Arthur muttered, his chest rumbling under your head.

"As if," you retorted with your voice muffled, certainty in your disagreement.

It caught Arthur off guard a little and nervousness arose in him as he asked the following question. "You ain't scared of me?"

He knew if there was even an ounce of fear in you, it would've killed him.

You looked up at him, your eyes big and glossy. "I feel safe with you, Arthur."

His heart dropped and he looked into your eyes completely baffled, not grasping how such a sweet creature like you could say such a thing to him.

You felt safe with him.

You did.

He felt vulnerable under your gaze; not even heavens could make him feel so exposed. He was afraid you could read his thoughts with that pretty mind of yours as you held the eye contact, that you could recognize how much he was now melting and crumbling inside.

So much for being a tough hardened criminal.

He felt like a teenager again. The sweating hands, tingles in his stomach, it was all back.

Arthur tightened his embrace, cuddling you closer.

As he held you under the starry sky, your tiny arms wrapped around him, he was sure of one thing.

He could do many things. But staying away from you was not one of them.

[smth-intheway]

I haven't seen anyone talk about it, or maybe someone noticed but didn't said anything...

Neil and Charlie are connected, not only by the bonds of friendship but also by their shared symbolism of “death”, which is shown at the very end of the movie/book when their seats were empty. They are both key characters and as those who, despite their differences, are very similar.

Let's start with Neil. We all know that Neil is the one who started the dead poets society in 1959, he is the speaker and the leader of the group, as if leading the boys. He is the first to find the album with Keating's photo in it, the first to learn what the society is (yeah boys were near him), the first to read the official opening speech and assign roles to everyone. Who will read and who won’t. He acts as a confident person, his actions are based on a new feeling and finding freedom from the grip of his father. Everyone noticed how he looked at Keating when he gave his famous speech that every person in this fandom knows?

Yes, you can't help but notice how his eyes shine with hope, that he like a prisoner, will free himself from the shackles and escape from the clutches of his father. By the way, about his dad.

This man plays a very important role in Neil's life, as he does in his, albeit in the most disgusting way. His father sees himself in him only in his youth, he wants to achieve what he could not in the past. He uses Neil to turn back the time and become an ideal version of himself without caring what Neil thinks. Most likely, Mr. Perry was an unsuccessful person and perhaps he did not succeed in many things, proving this with the following phrases: "I sacrificed so much for you to be here" and "you have opportunities that I don’t had” He kind of puts pressure on Neil shoulders to give him false motivation to do things as he said, setting himself as an example, like... if you don’t do as I say, then the worst will happen to you, because I know better than you and I have lived longer than you. His father makes his son a submissive and obedient boy who is obliged to do and act as he is told, simply because he has no choice, because he is inexperienced and "impressionable" in the opinion of his father and he must definitely listen to the one who knows better in order to avoid the worst outcome. Just lower your head and show obedience like everyone else.

By the way, it is interesting that in the book the first description of Neil, and the first words about his appearance sound like this: "The breast pocket of his Welton blazer was covered with a huge cluster of achievement pins." (page 5, ch.1) Ironic, right? Now try to close your eyes and imagine the same student, without imagining Neil. What impression will you have of him? Right.. smart, successful with a brilliant future. This is what people who don’t know Neil see. He has become someone who is held up as an example. A diligent student and an example of behavior. Even the fact that in the book he wears a pillar with the inscription "excellence" as if hanging a label of idealism and perfection on himself. That is why they gave him this sign, so that he would carry it, introducing himself as the personification of that very perfection that teachers want to have in their students. But is that what he needs? Neil did not know what he wanted, he did not allow himself to go beyond what was permitted, always silently and following the rules. Afraid of getting burned like a moth over a fire. He was suppressed by his father, all the time his desires and dreams were rejected and not accepted, because there is a coordinate system and you cannot move against it. I can even assume that his father pressured him if his academic results did not satisfy him, from which Neil tried to prove that he could do better, because he wants his father to be proud of him and love him for being a good son, perhaps Mr. Perry could punish Neil for disobedience, from which the boy began to fear his father like a nightmare. Remember the scene when his father entered the room at the very beginning of the movie after the ceremony? Neil's behavior changed from before to after. With his friends he was happy, self-confident and the life of the party, but when his father showed up on the doorstep all of these traits were washed away and Neil showed his fear and insecurity.

So he hid himself, his dreams, ambitions and desires including emotions in front of his father. Several times in the book, (the movie didn’t showed it) Neil had the outbursts and slightly hysterical release of his emotions he was holding when his father was around. “Neil held the achievement pin in his hand as he spoke. “The bastard!” he shouted suddenly, jabbing his thumb with the metal point of the pin and drawing blood. Todd winced, but Neil just stared at the blood intently. He pulled the pin out and hurled it against the wall.” (Page 19, Chap3)

“Mr. Perry turned and stalked out. Neil stood still for a long time, then, walking to his desk, he started pounding on it, harder and harder until his fists went numb and tears began rolling down his cheeks.” (Page 119, chap11) Neil isn’t an emotionally stable person because his emotions only show when his father is not around. He is mentally weak because he is afraid to speak his mind around someone who will not listen to him. This is important and worth remembering because Neil has no voice around his father, so he did not tell him what he wanted, so he kept silent because he understood and built a mental reflex that his father's stubborn nature would still make him do what Neil does not want. He already knows what his father will say. Rejection. This is his weak point. He is afraid of rejection and does not want to hear it again, because he has heard it so many times ... over and over again. This Neil is very different from the confident guy he shows himself to be in society.

he did not share his feelings/thoughts with anyone, because he most likely not had close friends except Charlie. Because His entire life was planned and controlled by his authoritarian father, from A to Z. His dad would’ve probably not be happy about his son being friends with the “who the hell knows”.

That's why when he heard Keating's words about enjoying the moment, living here and now while this moment is here because one day it won't be. Carpe diem my friend. You need to look at things in the different way and not be afraid of what others think because what matters is what you think. These words entered Neil's thoughts as a basis for changing his situation, to free himself from the shackles and become who he always wanted. Because if not, this moment will never come. He began to think differently and began to go towards his dream that he wanted to acquire so much. Neil was slowly drowning in his ideal world, living freely and hopelessly, but he misunderstood Keating's words, because he had to change his idea of ​​the world and not himself. Neil did not understand that you cannot change the situation you are in, you can only change your idea and vision of it. He wanted to take control, but he forgot that sucking out the bone marrow, you need to do it so as not to choke on the bone. It is interesting that he was the first to come and recreate the Dead poets society and the first to leave, thus killing this society.

His death has a huge influence on the plot as well as on the symbolism itself, because if you look closely, in the book he dies with his crown of flowers as if killing his personality "Puck" through which he embodied the archetype of the deceiver (his father’s deceiver), challenging the established standards of behaviour. The second one is a reference to Jesus that many talk about. So, if you think about it, the crown of branches that he wore is very similar to the one that Jesus had. At first, he looks up, supposedly into the sky, in search of the meaning of life and pondering his decision. He puts on the crown, proclaiming himself his own liberator, just as Jesus was in Christian culture.

He didn't want to depend on his father or the rotten system anymore, Neil thought he would make his own decision outside of his father's wishes. After all, if there is no freedom in life itself, then why should he live?

Then, he lowers his head as if accepting his fate and knowing that he has chosen the right path for himself.

Neil showed obedience to himself and not to someone else which made him one step freer before he got freedom completely. He, like Jesus, accepted himself as a sacrifice in the face of freedom intending to be free even if not for others then for himself. Therefore, it was his own "crucifixion".

It is interesting that he lowers his head just like the boy from that very wall painting.

Okay, but then how does he relate to Charlie? It's simple, Charlie isn't always himself either, and unlike Neil's hidden symbolism, he directly proclaims himself to be another person, namely "Nuwanda". He abandons his boring, past self by forgetting who he was through self-destruction. "I have an announcement. In keeping with the spirit of passionate experimentation of the Dead Poets, I'm giving up the name Charles Dalton. From now on, call me 'Nuwanda.'" (page 89, chap9) In the same way, he added more nuances to his personality, such as his famous phrase "getting red" and when he painted the Indian symbol of virility on his torso supposedly giving himself confidence through the symbol's underlying meaning, which is anchored in the Indian goddess Shiva-Lingam which signifies masculinity, virility and association with fertility due to its sexual significance.

The same goes for the symbols he drew on his cheek, what's interesting is that in the movie he drew it with lipstick using red again, which usually symbolizes power, passion and life, this colour is used to attract attention. But in the book... he literally scrapes dirt off the wall to draw this symbol on his cheek. (What a cheerful boy fr)

Charlie is a time bomb. He constantly has ideas in his head, at first it may seem empty but there really is a lot of things, plus this “dish” is also seasoned with the guy's self-confidence and huge ego. This is proven by the fact that Charlie literally claimed the cave when he entered it and then used it to bring girls, without worrying about the opinions of others. He kind of stands as an example of the opposite of the Welton school value system, and encourages boys not to be afraid to be more confident. In the film, he was the first to support Neil in the idea of ​​creating a club, standing on his side, and also defending him after Cameron's betrayal at the very end, knowing that he is risking his education in Welton, but he is not afraid to take on such responsibility ... well, because why should he be afraid? He already has a future full of money, knowing that his father will force him to work with his business. By the way, about his father.

Unlike Neil, his relationship with his father is controversial and he can fight back with the confidence that he will be forgiven. In the film, his parents are shown in the background.

And in the book we only know his mother. I can assume that Charlie is a child from a rich family who lives as an accessory in the hands of his parents. He, like Neil, is the "pride" of his parents and should be an example, only Charlie does not want to follow the coordinate system and enter it instead he moves against it. Like Neil at the end of his path.

We know that Rebellion is already embedded in any ideology at the time of its creation, and rebels only personify rebellion and do not bring it to the established system of values. After all, there will always be those who are against the established system, moving in the opposite direction and trying to find other conclusions, other ideas that will definitely suit a certain type.

Charlie could become a rebel for two reasons, the first: the search for attention. Unlike the hyper-care of Neil's father over his son, his father could be so bogged down in work that he forgot about his own son, perhaps not even his beloved, because then the marriage would be of convenience. His parents did not give him enough attention, pushing him away, rejecting him. He wanted to be noticed by them so that they would give him love, so he tried to achieve it in every possible way and it became a habit. Or the second option: He was tired of living a pretense. Straightforwardness is always a way out when it’s difficult to explain. Just be simple and do not bother to be complex, so the fear of making a mistake disappears. So Charlie did, because as far back as he could remember, he hated being told how he should behave, how he should talk to guests, how he should smile, how he should take utensils for food, and so on. Charlie was tired of seeing people from high society smiling at each other with such hypocrisy, as if a second ago they had not been in deep judgmental discussion. The world of big business disgusted Charlie, because those people were too worried about how they looked in front of others and they ran after status. Charlie was a prisoner of this every day and he didn't want to be like the others, he wanted to create something of his own in his personality, something that the others didn't have and something that would distinguish them from him, or him from them. So he chose the easy way - rebellion. So Keating's words meant something to him in the sense that he would enjoy the moment of rebelling against the school's rules and building his own system. Charlie could relate to his own approaching "death" if life at Welton was not symbolic but real. That is, his expulsion is an actual death. It could be similar to the phrase that Carpe diem oppose - Memento Mori. Carpe diem, in simple terms, says that death is inevitable, but it is unknown when it will come, and therefore it should not be feared, but instead enjoy the moment, which is what Keating taught his students, but there is also memento mori, which says that death is inevitable, but the moment of its onset can be delayed by behaving, so to speak, you should live “correctly” and act rationally for the benefit of your own life. In other words, memento mori means that everything is in your hands and when you die is determined by how you live. And Carpe diem is about the opposite, that nothing depends on you. And therefore you can and should take everything from life here and now. These two terms are closely related to the understanding of Keating's lessons, so each DPS boy had his own end. Tragic or partly happy. Knox and Todd understood that you can't change this system, but you can change your attitude towards it by finding beauty in things and avoiding death, but Neil and Charlie didn't understand him, wanting to change system and putting their lives on the line, so both of their seats are empty at the end.

If you think about it... Charlie is Neil's desire for suicide. After all, he too is moving towards self-destruction by excluding himself from the system directly through death, while Charlie does it indirectly by going through exclusion.

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 9: the yearning

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: light smut

a/n: this series is officially completely written, so I'm hoping to post the last parts this month!

series masterlist

You didn’t truly feel like yourself around them anymore. Instead, you’d become the version of yourself you carefully crafted and molded to please them. To make them happy. To your dismay, you hated it, but not as much as you thought you should’ve. 

‘A version of you, custom built for Nesta and Cassian,’ you thought bitterly, because apparently who you were before just wasn’t good enough. Would never be good enough. They called it your ‘lowest,’ but you thought they just couldn’t love you when you were yourself. 

That, or you were an addict with people pleasing tendencies, leading you right down these lines of thinking. In the end, you supposed there truly was no one but yourself to blame, but it was always much easier for you to blame other people. 

The high road was boring, you’d much rather be your chaotic self than a watered down version. With that in mind, you wrapped a jacket around your shoulders and took off into the night. Both Cassian and Nesta were out of town, and you had a few old haunts to track down, perhaps a friend or two who could help you out. You were good for the money, they knew that. It was time to test just how far your partner’s reach went, and just how much influence they’d attempted to extend in order to keep you how they wanted you. 

You didn’t make it far. Just seconds after you passed the threshold of your door, feet hitting the landing, the downstairs one slid open and two very familiar scents drifted in. Spring, but winter sunrise and snow chilled wind threatened to transport you somewhere else. The earlier hint of animosity you felt towards them vanished so easily you kicked yourself for it. Trying and failing to summon that back, you slid into your apartment and quickly shed your jacket and shoes. 

Questions about what you were planning on doing wouldn’t be good, because you had no solid explanation and if anything they hadn’t let you get away with vague answers recently. 

A lump formed in your throat. You were doing the opposite of what you’d vowed not to just moments ago. To keep the peace. To keep them happy. To keep yourself from going over the edge. Two of out three for them, just one for you, and it didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t fair. 

Key clicked in the locked, the door swung open, a gorgeous female and male appeared in your doorway. 

Swinging around, mouth parted lightly, careful to keep eyes wide, feigning surprise, you found a genuine sort of joy did fill you. They still had that effect on you. 

“Hello sweetheart,” Cassian strode in first, Nesta hot on his heels. After kicking his shoes off, he covered the distance between you in moments. His arms felt like home, like safety, like solace. A smaller, but still strong pair of arms wound around your waist from behind. 

“We’re happy you’re here,” Nesta whispered, as if they’d been afraid you’d be somewhere else. You didn’t like that. But ... keep the peace, you told yourself, not wanting to lose hold of that genuine joy that had gripped you, you brushed the words off. For them, you’d roll with any waves or punches, give everything you might not get back, do whatever it took to show your love. 

For you, love and hatred danced and blurred an already fine line. 

It had been so long for the three of you, that when the glances and looks grew bolder, none of you hesitated. 

When their grip on you tightened slightly, with a type of longing you didn’t remember feeling before, you leaned into it and let it anchor you. Maybe sex could be a new kind of drug to drag you to new and different highs. The thought was dangerous. Your actions were dangerous. Everything about this reeked of danger but you threw yourself into it regardless. 

Cassian’s hand ran down your thigh, pausing to squeeze right above your knee, his finger tips digging in. “Beautiful,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pushed the fabric of your dress up further, pushing back on your shoulders to splay you out on your bed, not unlike a feast. 

Nesta crawled up next to you, her mouth kissing at your shoulder, then your breast, tongue darting at all of the sensitive areas surrounding your nipples except them. Cassian kissed up your inner thigh. 

Each movement was so tender, so sweet, and so full of something you couldn’t stand. You didn’t deserve it. You were broken and fucking unworthy. It felt like everything but love, and you couldn’t handle it a moment longer. 

“Stop,” you were barely breathing as you said the word, your heart thundering in your chest. 

Both froze in place, you slowly sat up, shifting sideways and taking care to avoid any contact with them. 

-

Nesta could only watch as you wiggled around them like they were diseased and any touch might kill you.

You grabbed your clothes, throwing them on your body haphazardly, dressing like you were running away from a one night stand. 

Never. You’d never shut anything down like this, and selfishly her first thought was what the hell had she done wrong, rather than what you might be going through. Nothing had been aggressive or rough or ... a door slammed. Then another. More clothes rustled. 

“I was just giving her a head start,” she heard Cassian say, “but I'm not letting her wander out there alone.” 

Her vision wasn’t really there, all she felt was the rejection. “I’ll stay here in case she comes back.” 

Not that you’d be able to escape Cassian’s monitoring from the sky, even in you wanted to, but she couldn’t quite track him down with you. 

It didn’t feel right, not when she’d already had one foot out the door. 

For someone with one foot out the door, she realized she was taking the rejection rather hard. 

Letting her nerves steel with a few breaths, she set about straightening up your apartment instead. It would give her something to do, and maybe show you just how little she was moved by your actions. 

-

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise

[MAKAROV'S FATE COMIC] [AO3]

When I say I've been thinking about this ever since finishing part 1...

I'm very excited to start a new multi-chapter story, doubly so with revenant AU! I'm not sure how long this will be, but I have a feeling it will be longer than part 1 :)

For those that skipped the side-stories, some details in this chapter refer to them, they're not a must-read to understand, but I heavily encourage it! You're also welcome to read the comic, it shows Makarov and Fate's reactions to the events of part 1...

Now, before I start rambling again... Chapter 1: The Labyrinthine Design of Fate

He always had a sort of scorching at his chest. A never-ending flame, bugs beneath his skin. As if he was burning alive.

As if he never escaped his self-made grave.

Even now, he could feel it, little legs of burning moths climbing up and down his arms, an overwhelming sensation that hasn’t left him in six years-

Except… There, a hand slides over his. Cool, a running river between his fingers. A breath of the void in a world so loud.

Soap smiles. Simon.

“Finally awake, Johnny?”

He buries his face into the pillow, hiding his growing grin. The hand continues to hold his, and that’s all the reasons he needs to continue sleeping.

“Gonna be like that, hm?” the voice hums thoughtfully, “I went to a zoo last month. Wouldn’t recommend, all they had was some dog.”

Soap frowns. He isn’t going to…

“It was a shitzu.”

He groans. “Ye didn’t…” Soap cracks open an eye, staring unimpressed at Simon’s crinkling eyes.

Simon pulls at his hand, making him sit up, “should be honored you’re waking up to my wonderful jokes.” he lets go of him, turning back to his desk. Soap notices the half-filled reports covering it.

Even several weeks later, the 141 is practically sinking under the mountain of paperwork that dropped on them as soon as they returned to the UK.

Soap flops back onto the bed, “rather be sleepin’ than hearing that shite.” Simon doesn’t give him a response, his pen gliding once again on the paper. “Is this one above my clearance as well?”

“No. Just forms to apply for changes in our Revenant documents, again.”

“You’d think they’d figure it out by now…” he turns to stare at the ceiling, an odd feeling in his chest.

The day they met… Lumity, Soap was ecstatic. It was a proof of his and Simon’s eternal connection, breaking the final barrier between them, showing that even the Reapers themselves couldn’t keep them apart.

He’s still glad of that, mind. He would never ask to be separated from Simon. But…

But it’s not something they could hide. As much as Price and Laswell cover for them, to conceal the existence of a whole new Reaper was beyond them.

It’s that uncertainty that scares him. The higher-ups haven’t done anything with them yet, the whole taskforce grounded until the dust settles, but Soap is sure it won’t pass by quietly.

When it comes to him, nothing ever does, it seems.

He turns his head to stare at Simon again. The man he was fated to kill. The way he looks when they’re like this, hidden away from the world and the realms beyond it, when they’re just Johnny and Simon, never stops to mesmerize him. He thinks, if they were perhaps a little different, maybe this would’ve been permanent.

Then again, were they any different, they’d likely be dead by now.

The question ‘why did it choose me?’ is usually screamed in his mind when phantom blood covers his hands, when the answering thought is often ‘it shouldn’t have’. Soap asks himself again, but with curiosity.

How much does Fate know?

“You’re not sleeping again, are you?” Simon asks with a smile in his voice.

Soap gets up, stretching his back, “nothin’ else better to do, is there?”

“Could always help me with reports.”

He side-eyes Simon, “like I said, nothing better to do.”

Simon scoffs, and Soap opens his mouth to goad him to another round of bickering, when a sort of buzzing goes up his spine. Simon’s shuddering back tells him he felt it as well.

“Our Reapers-” Simon locks eyes with him, when the world melts away.

When Soap comes to, the realm is dark. Cold. Words he’d never use to describe his Reaper.

Speaking of… where are they?

“S-Simon?” Soap looks around, finding him a few paces away, his head tilted up. His brows furrow, and he follows his line of sight.

Soap stumbles back, his heart pounding, “what- Buanaiche…?”

Lumity hangs above them, their body twisted, features broken by dark red. Pulled in different directions by the strings, it is as if something was trying to rip each limb apart, as if to separate… Ladder-like patterns and moths weave around the trapped being, light itself bound by crimson lines.

“What happened to you, Reaper?” Simon whispers, fear evident in his voice.

“FATE…… The invader… IT DARED ENTER OUR REALM…”

“Fate did this to you?” Soap’s eyes follow the red strings, where they disappear in the dark fog of Lumity’s realm.

Lumity’s head twitches, and gleaming white light drips from their neck. Soap asks himself, absentmindedly, if Reapers can even feel pain.

“LISTEN CLOSELY REVENANTS… Fate is plotting against us… Against your allies…”

A deafening sound cracks through the still air, making both Soap and Simon clutch at their ears. One of the strings snaps, only to loop back around one of Lumity’s many arms.

“A man with two faces will approach you… He will be an agent of Fate… YOU MUSTN’T FOLLOW HIM.”

“B-Buanaiche…” Soap winces when Lumity lets out a sound no words in any human language can describe, “what is Fate doing to you?”

“I will not bow down to it… I WILL NEVER BOW DOWN TO IT… This is nothing but a show… A petty show…”

Simon pulls at his sleeve, and takes his left hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Be vigilant, revenants… Fate is not alone…

IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW…”

Before Soap could take another breath, Lumity’s realm swirls, and the only thing left is that which holds his hand, shaking with the same terror as him.

They collapse to the floor, Soap’s breath hitching in his throat. Simon grunts, bringing a hand to his ear to check if it’s bleeding. He looks up at him, and shakes his head minutely.

“We…” Simon starts, swallowing thickly, “we need to find Price and Gaz.”

Soap nods, pushing himself up to stand on numb legs. His mind feels like it’s pulled apart like his Reapers, thoughts forming only to dissipate.

He follows Ghost out of his barracks, his steps loud and sure, even if his fists still tremble at his sides. The hallways are silent, most soldiers out training at these hours. Ghost directs them towards the fields now, where Gaz should be supervising recruits.

As they get closer, a few of them run into the building, their faces red with exertion and heads swiveling around. 

Soap spots Cooper, one of the FNGs he often trains, and calls out to him, “what’s going on with you lot? Why are ye not in drills?”

“Sergeant MacTavish! Lieutenant!” Cooper shouts, the words leaving his mouth in one hurried breath, “They- the revenants on base, they’re all-”

Another recruit butts in, “they all just stopped moving, they’re not reacting to anything!”

Ghost scoffs, pushing between the soldiers to get to the doors. The rookies snap their mouths shut, staring with wide eyes at them as they exit to the training grounds.

Soap didn’t want to believe them, hoping to dismiss their worry off when seeing it himself, but it was exactly as they said.

Most soldiers are moving, gathered around still figures. He can see Gaz from here, his face slack. The few other revenants on base, the majority of them belonging to the Reaper of Flesh, are as motionless as him. 

“They’re all…” Soap mutters.

Ghost’s eyes narrow, “in their Reaper’s realm.”

“Think Fate got them too?” Soap walks towards Gaz, Ghost right behind him.

The recruits surrounding Kyle part for them, Ghost glaring at the ones that tried to shake Gaz, “no, but it can’t be a coincidence.”

Gaz stares at the horizon unblinking. The sight unnerves Soap, even if he knows he looks exactly like that when his Reaper summons him. He can’t recall if he’s ever seen a revenant in this state.

A movement catches his attention, and Soap takes a step back when Gaz’s hands start twitching, his body floating a few inches off the ground, muscles taut. One soldier from the small crowd around them asks, “i-is that normal?”

A moment later, as if an invisible cable snapped, Gaz falls to the ground, knocking the hat off his head trying to dig his fingers into his scalp.

Soap instantly crouches in front of him, noticing in his periphery how the rest of the revenants come to as well, “Gaz? Ye alright?”

Ghost snatches his hand when he goes to place it on Gaz’s shivering shoulder, and addresses Kyle, “Garrick, give me sitrep.”

Gaz shakes his head, a few muted sobs escaping him. “My… My Reaper…” he heaves, “it told me to c-choose.”

“Choose?” Soap prompts him.

“Between Fate and Lumity. Between Makarov… and you.” Kyle finally looks up, his eyes red and tearful, pupil blown, “I chose you. I would never- but my Reaper…” his face contorts, “it was… furious, or not- I don’t know-” he lets out a frustrated huff, “all I know, it wasn’t happy with my choice.”

Ghost offers Gaz a hand, and helps him up. He then turns to the rest of the recruits and snarls, “what are you standing ‘ere for? Get the fuck out of my sight!”

Their little crowd disperses like a flock of birds. Soap picks up Gaz’s baseball cap, brushing the dirt off and handing it to him, “the Reaper of Pull never did like Destruction… You think that’s what the other revenants were asked?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost lets go of Kyle, making sure he can stand by himself, “... Price knows more about how Fate operates than anyone else on base.”

Price’s thoughts leak far before his office even comes into view. They’re nothing but a jumbled mess of images and emotions, and none of them make the rising dread within Soap lessen.

Gaz hasn’t stopped shaking, his steps heavier, like he’s pushing himself towards the earth in an attempt to stay steady. They haven’t spoken a word on the way here, Ghost’s eyes darting around tensely.

Soap himself can’t make heads or tails from this. That buzzing sensation under his skin, that usually forebodes his Reaper pulling him to its realm, hasn’t left. His fingers burn brighter, flames trailing far behind him as they walk.

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking, swinging the door to Price’s office wide open and ushering Soap and Gaz inside before locking it behind them.

Soap looks at their Captain for a few moments, his head in his hands.

“... Price?” Kyle is the first to break the silence. Price lets out a shuddering sigh, and looks up.

The Captain removes his hat, gripping it tightly until his knuckles turn white, “it asked you to choose, I presume?”

Gaz nods, “Mine did, yeah, but… I don’t know about Ghost and Soap-”

“No.” Price cuts him off, tone devoid of any emotion. “Lumity isn’t in a position to ask, are they?” he studies them with narrowed eyes.

Soap stares back, feeling Price’s mind prob at his, picking apart what he saw in Lumity’s realm, what they told them. The warnings, Fate’s strings wrapping around light like spiderwebs.

“I met Makarov once, over a decade ago.” Price explains as he retreats from Soap’s thoughts, “we didn’t know it was him, at the time. But he knew we were coming.”

“He showed me what his powers can do, a fraction of his Reaper’s. In all my years, I’ve never read a mind quite like his.”

“What did you see?” Soap can’t help but ask, fear warring with curiosity. Makarov is an enigma, one they only know one thing about.

The Revenant of Fate is always several steps ahead.

Price closes his eyes, hands coming up to message his head, “he showed me my own fate. Showed me people I haven’t even met yet, dead at my feet. We were lucky, according to my Reaper, until now. Fate didn’t have much interest in Humanity.”

Something dreadful seeps into his gut, and Price doesn’t open his mouth when the next words appear in their brains.

“Now, it saw something that caught its attention.”

“IT IS NOT ONLY US THAT GAZE UPON YOU NOW”

… What have they done…?

Price fills Gaz in, about Lumity’s warning. They speak among themselves in hushed voices, debating on who could possibly be a traitor, what can be done to weed them out. Talking aimlessly, as they don’t know enough about the situation to figure anything out yet. Anything is better than the suffocating silence, though.

Soap found himself staring at the grout lines of the tiled floor, thoughts such a jumbled mess even Price stirs clear from his mind. Ghost isn’t deterred, however, and has been a constant presence by his side. As he has been, for the last few months.

Soap thinks he would’ve had an easier time accepting this if he was the one destined to die. But Ghost? He’d never regret not killing him.

It angers him, to the point he has to keep his entire focus on minimizing his flames - who gave Fate the right to decide who he kills?

How much power does Fate hold? Is it the one that decided who becomes a revenant, and who doesn’t?

If Fate can capture a Reaper, there’s no limit to what it can do to them.

Cool fingers wrap around his left hand, white fire heedless of the scarred skin. Soap looks up at Ghost, humming a question.

“Remember our promise.” is all Ghost says, and somehow that’s all Soap needs to take a mental step back, and breathe in deeply.

Soap echoes his words from weeks ago now, spoken under the warm glow of a fancy restaurant, with the same hand in his.

“Together.”

They hear a throat clearing after a few minutes, Price motioning for them to sit next to his desk.

“Before… This happened, I was planning on notifying you of something.” Price starts, his eyes locked onto Ghost’s, “Laswell and the higher-ups consulted Doctor Novikov about Lumity, and have come into the conclusion you two need to redo your revenant tests.”

Ghost scoffs, leaning back in his chair to sneer, “what is he going to tell us that we don’t already know? He didn’t know a bloody thing about Void before it merged, doubt he has any new revelations he could share with us.”

The Captain sighs heavily, and Soap gets the feeling this isn’t the first time a conversation of this sort happens between these two, “it’s part of the protocol, Simon. Or at least as much protocol that can be salvaged in your case.”

Soap leans in to half-whisper in Gaz’s ear, “ye know this… Novikov? The fuck’s he a doctor fer?”

Gaz blinks at him for a second, before reeling back, “you- you don’t know Novikov??”

“No???” Soap frowns, turning around to see Ghost and Price stopped arguing. “How do ye know him?”

“He’s been the head Spiritulogist of the SAS for the last… what was it, ten years, Price?”

“Over a decade, been here since before I was Reaped.” Price says incredulously, “I know your file’s been redacted to hell and back son, but don’t tell me you never even been through your basic revenant testing?”

Soap shakes his head, “they never sent anyone to examine me… I assumed they didn’t need to check my limits, with…” the words die on his tongue, and Price redirects his thoughts before they can go down a dark path.

“I worked with Novikov for as long as I’ve been a revenant. He’s good at what he does.” the Captain says, ignoring Ghost’s growl.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never met a Spiritulogist, mate.” Gaz gently elbows him with a small grin.

Soap sneaks another glance at Ghost, noting his stormy eyes, before answering, “I did, never about my own powers. Don’t think any o’ them had clearance.”

Ghost murmurs, “saved you several headaches.”

“Well,” Price slaps his knees, getting up from his chair, “there’s always a first for everything. Novikov got cleared by Laswell, so I assume he has enough information to assess you. He’s due to arrive at any moment, let’s take it to the tarmac.”

They follow him out of the office, Ghost walking ahead, irritation practically fuming out of him. Whatever past this Novikov has with Simon, it can’t be good. Then again, Ghost seems to dislike him more based on his profession, than the man himself.

The tarmac isn’t as hectic as it usually is. Soap attributes that to the earlier revenant incident, he personally knows at least three technicians bearing the revenant status working here. There are some gruesome ways to die dealing with aircrafts, that’s for certain. He gets reminded that of the day Gaz told him the story about his Reaping.

Soap hated the blank stare he had back then, guilt a mirror image of his own. Felt an instant connection to him, and hypocritically wanted to tell him he has nothing to be guilty of. Well, maybe not so hypocritically. Gaz would never do what he did.

The helo carrying Novikov has already started descending by the time they arrive. Ghost is a menacing shadow at his side, anger not subsiding in the short walk to here. Soap had to stop himself from asking about it multiple times. He doesn’t think he’ll get more than a grunt from Ghost at this state.

Price approaches the helo as it lands, probably greeting Novikov with his powers. When the loading ramp lowers, Soap watches a short, plump man walk down to shake hands with the Captain.

The first thing Soap clocks in from the man is that he has never been in an active war zone. There’s a lack of awareness the Doctor emanates, his focus not straying from the person in front of him, despite being surrounded by several SAS soldiers, and one very disgruntled, skull-faced revenant.

Price eventually returned to them with Novikov and several other people Soap can only assume are his assistants. Ghost steps closer to him, practically gluing himself to Soap’s side. He leans in to nudge his arm, silently asking him to relax, if only for a moment.

“Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Garrick, it is good to see you.” Novikov greets, Gaz reaching to shake his hand. The Doctor offers it to Ghost as well, but all the masked man does is glare at him.

Novikov seems undeterred by the Lieutenant’s hostility, and turns to Soap, “Sergeant John MacTavish,” Soap finally places his accent as Russian, “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted yet.”

Soap shakes his right hand in the air, momentarily extinguishing its flames, before shaking the Doctor’s hand, “we haven’t.”

Novikov’s grip tightens, and he lets go of Soap’s hand, “I will be honored to be the one to test your powers for the first time, Sergeant. It is not common for revenants to skip those, as you can imagine.”

There’s an almost bitter note to his last sentence. Soap doesn’t like that he feels like Novikov has been waiting for this opportunity for a long, long time.

The words of Lumity have been etched to his heart, burned a hole in his consciousness, began a downward spiral nothing, not even the memory of Ghost’s hand in his, can stop.

Soap watches the Doctor leave, not before a promise to test them first thing in the morning, tomorrow, and he wonders.

He wonders if this, too, is part of the labyrinthine design of Fate.

[ckret2]

I just wanted to say a few things.

#1 you are an amazing writer, and your work gave me a reason to pick up a book again.

#2 If Bill can disasozeate (pardon my spelling) for millions of years, why does he simply not do that in The Void? Perhaps it is the feeling of control. He cannot leave the void unless he is let out and that is terrifying to him. Perhaps it is that he is waiting on nothing. I remember it was stated in that same chapter that he feels as if he is waiting on nothing.

#3 how to I view your older chapters on this fic? I am extremely new to Tumblr and I just got here from your A03. Do I simply have to keep scrolling? Thank you very much and please have a truly wonderful day! :D

-Vivian

vivian-za-determined-luna-moth asked:

'Ight so nvm, I am dumb and did not read your pinned comment.

I cannot wait to read more of your fantastic work!

:D

hey, you found it and that's what's important lol. God it would be such a dick move if i forced people to even just scroll back through all the posts I've tagged about this fic, considering uh,

... that's a lot of tagged posts.

Re: #2: I think you asked me the same question on AO3, but as far as I know AO3 doesn't send email notifications to guest accounts, so you probably didn't see my reply over there! So I'll copy-paste it here. (If you DID see my reply... lol sorry for copy/pasting at you.)

Humans can meditate for hours on end with no serious long-term psychological effects. But total sensory deprivation can make it impossible to tell whether your eyes are open or shut within 10 minutes and can induce hallucinations within 15 minutes. There's a huuuge difference between not much stimulation and NO stimulation.

And I don't think Bill ever once in his life experienced a pure void before Theraprism. OUTSIDE the Nightmare Realm, realities come and go, and his options are limited when there's no nearby dimensions for him to contact; but the Nightmare Realm is always, always there, never empty, and Bill's always in it.

Even if Bill HAD been in total voids before—voluntarily dissociating vs being locked in the solitary wellness void is like the difference between swimming underwater and being held underwater by your throat. Sure, you could just hold your breath to cope with being held underwater—after all, you can probably hold your breath for 30-60 seconds! Why would you panic in under 5 seconds?

But in reality you probably WOULD panic in under 5 seconds. You wouldn't simply calmly hold your breath and wait to be let up. Not unless you agreed to be held underwater, knew how long you'd be held under, and trusted that you'd be let up—and even then, you'd probably have to consciously suppress the instinct to struggle. If you had NONE of those reassurances? You'd panic, flail, and fight. Even though you COULD "simply" hold your breath.

Bill did not agree to go in the water, and he has no way of knowing when or if they'll let him up for air.

[shyvien-obeyme]

⚜️ Little Moth

✧༺⚜️༻✧

⚜️ Summary: You need help researching local insects. Who better to ask than your favorite angyboi bookworm, Satan?

⚜️ Content: Satan x Reader. No gender specified. Mentions of insect taxidermy. Slightly grotesque at one part. Otherwise, it's all just gentle fluff. 🐈🪷🦷

⚜️ Word Count: ~1,500

⚜️ Note: Lepidoptera is the name given to butterflies and moths. This is my first ever fic. I don't ever plan on becoming much of a writer, I've just been wanting to get my thoughts and fantasies somewhere. But if you have any helpful constructive criticism, please let me know.

I had always has an interest in pretty things, so it was no surprise that I liked insect pinning. It was a small hobby of mine that I’d enjoy in the human world whenever I would come across deceased butterflies or other insects. I also just enjoyed spotting the different local Lepidoptera. But since being in the Devildom, I haven’t been able to partake in this hobby of mine, as I am not very familiar with Devildom creatures. And knowing that the Devildom is a rather magical place, I fear that picking up any random dead moth would leave me cursed or something. So that's when I decided that I should study more about the wildlife in this strange new place I‘ve been suddenly thrust into. I think it over. How do I obtain this knowledge? Maybe I should go to the RAD library?…Or perhaps I could ask Satan if he has any books on local insects. I decide on the latter; It would be a good excuse to spend some alone time with him and talk to him about a favorite hobby of his, books. 

You leave your bedroom and hike upstairs to Satan’s door. Knocking on it’s antique wood, you whisper “It’s me, MC. Can I please come in?” “Ah!” He exclaims gently before you hear a quiet shuffle and his footsteps near the door. He opens it and asks “Of course you can come in. How may I help you, MC?” with a gentle smile gracing his soft pink lips. He steps aside and gestures for you to enter his room. It’s a large room, dimly lit with candles and ethereal moonlight pouring from grandiose arched windows. As usual, it’s something similar to a maze as you maneuver around piles of books stacked as high as pillars. He shuts the door behind you, creating distance between the both of you from the rest of the house so that you can have some much needed privacy. Standing before him you ask, “Umm, I hope you don’t mind… I was wondering if you had any books on the local wildlife. Insects specifically.” You twiddle your thumbs and blush slightly. Even though you love the boys to death and have spent ample time with each of them, you can’t help but to feel a little embarrassed about revealing your hobby. He pauses to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he averts his cerulean eyes. “Yes, I think I have a few, let me take a look.” Thankful that there seemed to be not even a shred of judgement, you take a seat and watch as he shifts his attention to focus on the given task. He gracefully paces back and forth, checking a few different places in the room for books matching your request. He pulls out books from a large stack with precise precision, as if taking a block from a Jenga tower, careful not to knock the rest over. About 6 different books pile in his arms as he meets you on his relatively stiff bed.

“Is something like this what you’re looking for, MC?” You take a look at the books. Some large and thick, others thinner. Some bound in leather, some very old and moth-eaten, and others that seem more modern. They all seem useful, but your attention sticks to the book with the title: Devildom Moths and Butterflies; A Complete Guide. “Ah, yes! Something like this.” You take a moment to peek through a few of the pages before Satan questions “Might I ask what you need these for? You seem very interested” “I‘d like to take a closer look at Devildom’s insects, even take some home if they’re no longer alive. So I wanted to make sure I did research on them first - lest I get struck with some unruly curse!” You gesture dramatically with your hands before chuckling lightly. Satan’s eyes widen slightly in surprise before relaxing into a sweet smile, as if he wasn’t surprised you’d take interest in such a thing. He loves the look of excitement on your face when you find something else that you’re fascinated by. He’s also happy that you came to him for that help, not one of his idiotic brothers.

He shimmies a little closer to you until your thighs and shoulders are touching. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body, and you can smell the subtle floral and musky scent of his cologne. You take a long breath in, letting his essence spill into your nose and send waves of comfort reverberating throughout your whole body, making you relax a little more. “Want to take a look at this book together then?” You look up at him and smile with a nod. “I’d like that a lot!” You gently pry open the aged leather-bound book, pages fluttering as you turn them, and your eyes wander at the pictures of the different butterflies of the Devildom. Together, you pore over the short blurb of information on each of the insects.

“•Demon Silk Moth

Located in only this specific region of the Devildom, the Demon Silk Moth produces silk that contains very special properties and is used for making the most luxurious clothing. The moths are also made into a wide variety of gummies. Yum!”

“•Devil Clothes Moth

A common and destructive pest that eats away at clothing, carpets and tapestries, causing significant damage to any and all fabrics. Is found all over the Devildom, and can be kept away with Mothballs. You can tell when a Devil Clothes Moth infestation is on the rise when you begin to notice holes and weakened spots in your clothing.”

He reads aloud in his smooth and feathery voice as you follow along with your eyes. You point and ask about some of the more eccentric looking Lepidoptera as you see them, to which Satan replies with stories of the occasions he’s found their beauty and grace in person. He places his pointer finger, tipped green with Asmo’s designer nail polish, onto a picture of a butterfly similar to that of a Blue Morpho in the human world. “These ones we often find residing in the garden of the Demon Lord’s Castle. They’re much more beautiful in person, you should see the way their scales glisten in the moonlight. It’s truly an enchanting sight” Your face lights up at his retellings, you feel the excitement surge through your body, letting your toes wiggle as an outlet for some excess emotion to spill out. His expression is warm and gentle, deepening your feeling of ease and comfort. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as you rest your head on his shoulder, continuing to read together.

“This butterfly here with what looks like eyes on its wings, charms it’s victim to eat it so it can lay eggs inside the hosts brain, and like a parasite, it takes over the victims body, making them seem like a zombie and controlling the body to find an area perfect for its offspring to grow and to then devour the corpse as it comes of age.” “Creepy. I’m totally glad a took the initiative to research before possibly ending up as a zombie, haha!” You almost shudder at the thought. “Good thinking. Not to mention, I don't think zombies make good exchange students” You respond by make a silly face and growling like you think a zombie would, extracting hearty giggles from both of you.

Holding the book with one hand, he snakes the other around your waist to pull you in closer. You stare at him again for just a moment, silently consenting to his touch. Your big, goofy yet content smile sends heat to his cheeks. He warmly beams back as you reposition your head back against him, he responds by settling his head against yours. “I value time spent with you, little moth.” You’re struck by Cupid as the words leave his lips. Little moth? “L-Likewise.” “Well, what do you say we make this insect spotting a date? I know perfect places for us to go looking. We should prepare a picnic as well.” “It’s a date, then!” Your glee and excitement is palpable. He takes the moment into his hands and lands a chaste kiss on your forehead with his warm lips, sealing the promise.

Your head spins. It’s at this moment, with wide and glazed over eyes that you realize, the butterflies you were looking for were in your stomach this whole time.

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

[maleficient]

Hello 🩷

can I please have a Mob Boss Itachi, who get obsessed with the rivalling Clan‘s daughter (Reader). Said daughter left her Clan a few years ago to live a life outside and undercover of the Mob-world. He finds out about her and wants to make her his.

(You can make it slowburn or in different parts, your writing is chefs kiss 🩷)

💋 dark account; second post. be safe.

Modern au! ; Sick obsession ; Thoughts of kidnapping someone ; Possible age difference ; Disappearances of people ; Itachi being insanely jealous ; Dismemberment ; Itachi being typical Yandere ; Itachi is being delulu & a perv!

Part 2 with smut (soon!)

;;;

Itachi Uchiha had fallen in love with the daughter of the clan's rival. His obsession was perhaps noticeable to some, perhaps not.

That didn't matter anymore.

He didn't remember when exactly he saw her.

December?

Or was in October?

The only thing sure is that it was in a photograph while he was checking the remaining members of the pathetic rival clan.

Very few members; his rival had been greatly reduced. Pathetic, just pathetic.

And then that was when he saw her, and everything changed.

She was beautiful. She IS beautiful.

So beautiful that it made his breath catch in his throat.

Again, that didn't matter anymore.

When he found out that his rival's daughter rebelled and decided to leave the dark world of the mafia, he was shocked; however, that only made him even more obsessed with the woman.

Without her realizing it or knowing, he sent several of his subjects to take pictures of her.

He told himself over and over that it was for her well-being.

At least that's what he told himself so he wouldn't feel so bad about vandalizing his beloved's personal space.

Until the threats came.

Like flies, weak and pathetic men approached his beautiful woman to try to flirt with her.

He could see it—how they looked at her more than necessary while she waited on them, oblivious to their intentions.

Of course, his beautiful angel was innocent; she didn't know that those weak men looked at her in a way that was inappropriate for a lady like her.

How dare they?

Maybe it was his fault that the male clients of her work decreased, but... they deserved it.

So two long years passed in which he let his beautiful Angel build her new life, and meanwhile he quietly planned in secret how to take her and make her his.

The plan to kidnap her was on his mind for a while, but he quickly discarded it when he thought that the head of the rival clan was surely monitoring her and would get angry if Itachi did something so risky.

He wasn't that cruel either. He already traumatized her by sending her a hand from one of the men who decided to touch her in a box; he didn't want to corrupt his angel.

His fingers moved in desperation; if only she wasn't the daughter of that stupid man, he would already have her in his arms and jumping on his hard cock until she couldn't take it anymore, and he would fuck her without caring that she was already sensitive.

And Itachi wasn't an impulsive idiot. Of course not; he was a smart person. He wouldn't let his desires take control of him, though the temptation to give them free rein was deliciously tempting.

The Uchiha would take it slow.

He would let the woman fall in love with him at her own pace, and he would take on the role of a businessman in the meantime.

He would allow the woman to navigate the finely crafted lies he had created as a backstory. He would allow her to look at and appreciate the good part of him, just the kind and gentle part, permanently if he could.

He would play out all her fantasies of being rescued as long as she stayed by his side.

He would let the moth get close to the lit candle, and when he knew the beautiful woman wouldn't be able to turn back...

When his lid is blown.

— Oh, hello, how can I help you? —

When she discovers the lies. When the dark truth comes to light.

— I would like a latte — the Uchiha replied with a friendly and charming smile, making the beautiful woman blush. His beautiful Angel...

He wouldn't let her go.

[nkirukaj]

The Radio Demon & the Billboard Doe (7)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst (& Humor!)

Word Count: 3.3K

<Chapter 6

7. Red As Blood

Alastor stood in the parlor during Charlie’s activity this morning. The lesser demons sat and lounged around discussing frivolous nonsense with each other while he stood behind them smiling and silent. Alastor never understood how these demons took their eternity worrying about things that didn’t matter or things that were impossible. He could see and hear it all from where he stood. Some focused on who liked them, some on who had the latest gadgets, and others stuck on love, of all things. No no, none of these crossed Alastor’s mind in centuries. The only thing on his mind these days was power, how to gain it, and how to keep it. However, his thoughts had been clogged somewhat lately. A very pleasant aroma wafted through the halls occasionally, it was most pungent at night when the halls were quiet and still. A scent that was vaguely familiar, and he longed to smell it more. When sniffing, the scent led him to her. The doe that made it her mission to get under his skin. He thought that someone who was such a docile animal, especially the same animal as him, wouldn’t be such a challenge. The way she walked around as if she owned the world, the way she challenged him; if it were any other demon, they’d be ripped in half, inside his stomach, or at best running for their lives. But her. The scent made her invincible to him. It pained him to allow such disrespect, but the scent was something he enjoyed too much to let die.

That and the shine of her bright red curls in the light, the way her spots were scattered amongst her face, or perhaps the shape of her differently-hued lips. These were things he found himself observing on occasion; every time she was in his line of sight. As of right now she is sitting and conversing with the spider, most likely about something foolish, like what videos she had posted on her tiny screen. Alastor, however, found himself staring at the young doe, zeroing in on her features, each of them independently, and how they all came together to make up her face. He studied her, how she moved, how she spoke, how she dressed. It was all captivating to him, she was beautiful, like sitting in New Orleans and looking up at the stars in the night sky. He wondered if she knew this, and that was why she continued to push his buttons, or if she simply had impertinence etched into her soul. It was unclear, which one was fact or which he would prefer. He supposed he liked that about her, the thing that annoyed him the most. He was unsure of what this sensation would be called, but it burned in his chest and demanded to be felt.

When he’d heard her with Lucifer, talking and giggling like children, he felt the sensation spread to his fingertips, spurring him to action. But what to do? What could he have done? Barge into the study and demand that the conversation cease? He had no definable motives or any claim on this doe, just this constant burning.

Her eyes flitted up for a moment, catching him staring and boring right back into him. Alastor widened his grin and she squinted her eyes as if studying him the way he studied her. She looked him up and down before returning her eyes to the spider, continuing to speak. Although Alastor was unsure of these..feelings, the one thing he did know was that he had never experienced disrespect to the degree that he had from her; and it wasn’t clear to him if he disliked it.

_________________________________________________________

Once again 9 AM sharp was what her boss had demanded and 9 AM sharp was when she arrived. After being led upstairs by Melissa, the assistant told her 

“They’re waiting for you behind this door,” 

Who’s they? Upon opening the door she got her answer. There sat her boss, the creepy moth man Valentino, and another gentleman with a flat-screen TV as a face. He wore a blue and black striped suit, that reminded her a lot of Alastor’s, only less ripped at the bottom, with no flare.

“Velvette? What’s going on?” she asked as her boss approached her

She grabbed the doe’s shoulders and gestured to the guests “I’m sure you know my companions. You’ve met Valentino and this is Vox. They have requested to speak with you today. And they better make it quick!” She gave them an evil eye before returning to her seat amongst them.

“Hello, my dear! You must be Voe! I am Vox, as you heard. A pleasure to meet you!” he sticks out his hand and offers a wide bright blue grin. Voe takes the man’s hand and shakes it “Sit, please sit.” He gestures to where he was sitting before, in between Velvette and Valentino. Voe takes a moment to regard the seat, before taking it, scooching as close to Velvette as possible. “How are you this fine Hellish morning? I hope Velvette has been treating you nicely.” she opens her mouth to speak, but Vox keeps barreling on. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been staying at the ‘Hazbin Hotel’ since you’ve gotten to Hell, yes?”

Voe looks around to see if she’s allowed to answer this one “Yes.”

“And you know of Alastor, yes?”

“The Radio Demon,” Valentino offers in a sultry tone, leaning down into her ear

“Yes…?”

“Lovely! We’ve seen your content and we are well aware of what a firecracker you can be! And we think that we have the perfect side job for you.”

Voe tilts her head to the side, intrigued and confused. Was her job not to model?

“We see so much potential in you Voe, we can see your face on posters, walls, TV screens, anything you name it! What do you want?”

She sat to think as Vox’s wide smile beckoned her in “I want…to be on a billboard.”

“We can get you on every billboard in Hell, my dear! You’ll be the biggest celebrity that Hell has ever seen! If, you can do us the smallest little favor.”

Her eyes were wide now, his promises of glory hooking her right in “What’s that?”

Vox looks up at Valentino and Velvette, both of them matching his sinister grin “We just need some…information, from you.”

“Mhmm?”

“Information, on Alastor.

“Information on Alastor? Like what?”

Vox strolls around the studio, his arms behind his back “Oh nothing major, just little tidbits here and there, funny little things. Like the things you mentioned in your live.” He peers at her over his shoulder

“Just like stuff I know about him? I don’t really know anything about him. Other than him being a lame fossil.”

The three Vees chuckle, as though they’re charmed by her antics “Then get to know him hermosa,” Valentino puts his finger under her chin “he’s just a man, and you’re a fully blossomed flower. it should be muy fácil for you.” He blows smoke from his lit cigarette in her face.

She shakes away the smoke but feels a lot looser and less…tense “What should I do?” Her eyes glazed over a bit

Vox’s voice turns deep and silky as he approaches her face “Anything, you need to.”

Wandering through the hotel at night after Velvette runs through all her plans for the new line, Voe is shocked at the stillness of the hotel. She was used to it being loud and filled to the brim with sinners, but now the parlor was dark and so was the grand staircase. She was usually in her room at this time listening to her music, and the echoes of silence were quite off-putting and sent waves of anxiety through her body. It was almost a relief to hear the subtle sound of violent scraping somewhere in the hotel. A sign that something, anything was alive at this hour. She approached the elevator to get to her room as quickly as possible when her nose caught the scent of something delicious. Her fingers hovered over the buttons as she debated which direction to go in. On the elevator or up the stairs. In the end, the scent won out and up the stairs, she went.

Following her nose, she finds Alastor, with his antlers extended and dragging them against one of the walls. He huffs in frustration, scraping them harder. He looked exhausted and almost seemed like he was sweating, something Voe wasn’t even sure the Radio Demon could do. She thought about whether or not to approach him, almost turning away, but he seemed somewhat tortured, a state she had never seen him in. She betrayed her instincts yet again and found herself coming closer and closer to Alastor.

“Are you okay?” She asks, disrupting him from his thoughts. He scoffs and turns to face her. 

“What are you doing here? I do not need your insolence today.”  

“I smelled something.” She walks toward him “I’m being sincere. I know it’s hard to tell the difference.” 

He grits his teeth “I am fine.”

“You don’t look it. You look like you need help.”

“I do not require assistance. Especially not from you!” He hisses at her

Voe holds up her hands in surrender “Okay. You ‘do not require assistance’, fine. But there’s nobody here who knows more about deer than me.” A low growl is caught in his throat. “Your velvet is itching right?” He shifts his eyes, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being correct. “You should scrape them on a tree, because not only are the walls not hard enough, but you can see the scrape marks.” They both look at the spot where he had been previously scraping, seeing large scratches in the wood. “Welp, Vaggie isn’t gonna like that.” She turns back to him “You have trees in your room right? Why don’t you do it there?”

“How do you know that?”

She shrugs “Vaggie said something about it and I like to collect facts.”

He stares, reevaluating her with the given information. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Like I said, I like to collect facts.” She grins “Especially about deer.” She looks up at him before he starts to grin himself “Not because of you.” She corrects him “They just happen to be my favorite animal. I knew a lot about them, even before I became one.” He looks her up and down once more. 

“Also, you know you could scrape that off with a knife right?” She turns back the way she came, satisfied with her contribution. “By the way, unrelated, but I’ve been wanting to tell you that I like your hair.”

He raises a brow seeming confused “Have people been saying things about my hair?”

She tosses over her shoulder “Oh nothing, just that it’s a fuck ass bob,”

Walking away, she remembered the request that the Vees had given her. ‘Get information out of Alastor’? This moment hadn’t been calculated, she was mostly eager to share her knowledge, but she wondered if she could use this moment as a springboard into something juicier. What are a few conversations for eternal fame in all of Hell? She did say she liked to collect facts.

The next night, she found herself in his orbit once more when he decided to cook again, this time absent of the usual gang that populated the area. He was alone today, humming to himself as he casually mixed and prepared ingredients as though he were painting a portrait. He wasn’t wearing his coat this time which Voe found surprising, most likely indicating that he was feeling comfortable, which would be the best time to get information from him.

“Hi,” she stated from across the room Alastor’s ears twitched in her direction before he looked up and saw her. His body is frozen as his eyes flitted towards his coat, debating whether or not to put it on, but Voe just walks up to him before he has the chance.

“Nice vest,” she smiles as she examines it further. It was solid red, with no stripes like his coat “And yes, I’m being sincere once again,”

He squints at her “Why are you being sincere all of a sudden?” he places the lid on his pan “Any other day you’d be insulting me. What’s changed?” He slips on his coat and grabs his cane, without taking his eyes off the doe.

“You know I’m not out to get you, right? I just like ruffling your feathers a little” she smiles coyly

Alastor twirls his cane with a closed-lipped smile, looking all over her face. He remains silent for a few moments, piping back up with “What could you have done to end up here? It can’t be that serious.”

“Why not?” 

"Can I guess? I love to guess!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

"Sure," she replied with a smile.

"Murdered the homecoming queen?" he guessed.

"What? No," Voe smirked. "I'm 27. Also, I was the homecoming queen."

Alastor's eyebrows raised and he leaned forward on his cane. "Slept with somebody's husband?"

Voe was both shocked and amused. "Ha! No."

His grin turned more sly. "Slept with somebody's wife?" Voe looks away and doesn’t answer. "Ahh," he said, twirling his cane. "Caught you."

"A lot of somebody's," Voe admitted.

"You're a lot more interesting than I assumed," Alastor said.

Voe waved him off. "I also have this tendency to make people's lives miserable. But those people deserved it."

"I see you and I are quite alike now that I know more about you," Alastor concluded.

“You didn’t realize that when you saw that we’re the same animal?”

And the next morning when Charlie had everyone down for her morning activity, Voe came down at her own time and pace when the Princess called out to her

“Voe! Did you want to participate today?” Vaggie whispered in her girlfriend’s ear “I mean, no! Get over here girlie! It’s time for an activity!” Vaggie nods in pride

“Okay,” Voe responds, going over and sitting down on the parlor couch

“Okay! So today’s activity we’re going to have you all partner up “

Each of the residents scrambles to partner with each of their friends. Vaggie claps her hands and speaks out over the crowd “No no NO! You’re NOT picking your partners. You’re all going to draw names out of a hat!”

The demons grunt and groan, sitting back down in their spots. Alastor is sitting in his usual chair, his leg up exposing the bottoms of his shoes. They looked like deer tracks. Voe smiles, thinking it was cute. 

“Amused?” he smirks himself before Charlie speaks again

“All right, everyone! Come on up!”

They all get into a line, except for Alastor, who doesn’t move from his seat. When Voe reaches the front of the line, going into the hat and pulling out a name “Alastor!” she turns to him “Excellent!”

His eyes widen in confusion “I was not aware that I would be participating this morning Princess,” his voice icy

“Well,” Charlie glances at Vaggie, who nods “You are.” her smile, somewhat asking for approval

“Fair enough,” he says

“Here’s your sheet! Go get to know your new friend!”

“Oh I will,” she smirks at the princess

The two deer sat in front of each other in the empty parlor, the other residents taking their partners to other places.

“What a coincidence that we keep running into each other,” Her voice is sultry, appreciative of the coincidence

“I suppose it is,” his tone was less than pleasant, telling Voe that she still needed to crack him like a nut

Voe looks down at the sheet “So apparently we’re meant to ask each other these questions. So…what’s your favorite color?” She looks up, her eyes wide with innocence, batting her lashes “I think I have a hunch, but I’d like to hear what you have to say,”

“Blue,” he says with a smirk on his face

Voe raises her brow “Really?”

His smirk grows “No,”

“So it’s red, yes?”

“Red as blood, my dear.”

“My favorite color is pink!” She sits up straight

“It suits you,”

At that moment, things started to make sense to Voe. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? She stared at the Radio Demon over her glasses, his smile stayed intact, while his eyes conveyed confusion. Valentino was correct, he was…just a man.  

Her eyelids lower and her smile turns flirty. “Thank you. The red is absolutely your color.”

Alastor raises an eyebrow “Excuse me?”

“The red is your color,” she repeats “It looks good on you,”

“Well thank you…I suppose?” He tilts his head “Are you well?”

“Quite.” she leans forward “Let’s disregard the sheet. What would you like to talk about?”

“Whether or not you’ve had an accident,” he stares at her as if she’s lost her mind. He sits up “Oh I understand, you’re trying to mess with me.”

She leans back “Why do you think that?” he stares as though it should be obvious “What?”

“Darling, you can’t fool me. You’re up to something.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t even think of fooling you. That would be fruitless anyway.” she waves off the thought

“I am deeply offended by your lies. And at the insult to my intelligence.”

She blinks, betraying no emotion “I’m sorry you feel that way, but what exactly do you believe I would have to gain by lying to you?”

“Seeing my downfall? I am aware that you work for the Vees.”

She brushes him off “Oh that? That has nothing to do with this. I’m not even under a contract.”

He lowers the pitch of his voice “I don’t like being lied to.”

“Well that’s something I didn’t know about you, good job!” she smirks again

“I think we should stick to the worksheet,”

“Really?”

“What’s your favorite thing to do?” he questions her

She taps her chin “Do you want the PG answer or the explicit answer?”

“I want the truth.

She shrugs “Okay. My favorite thing to do is have sex with women. Or listen to music, depends on the day.”

“I take it you’ve had sexual relations with women recently?”

She purses her lips “Nope. I’ve restrained myself.”

“Very good.”

She stares at him “Your turn.”

“I suppose my favorite thing to do is broadcast the screams of my victims on my radio show,” He shrugs with a cocky grin

“Ah, yes that is your thing,” She stares at his face “Do you dislike me?”

“No.” He states plainly “You seem to dislike me,”

“Of course not. I just like playing games. I have no reason to dislike you.”

“You think it’s okay to play games with someone you don’t know?”

“You seem like a man who enjoys games,”

“I play games, but not with petty children.”

“Good thing neither of us is one of those,” her smile is passive-aggressive

“Sure.”

She leans back on the couch “I’m offending at you thinking that I’m a liar. When have I ever not spoken my mind?”

“Whenever it may not serve you to do so?” His smile widens further and his eyes grow tense

She could see that it would be harder to break him than the other men she had toyed with in the past, he was much smarter, brain not crowded by thoughts of sex. But every man has an ego, and the Radio Demon’s might just be the largest one Voe had ever encountered. When your ego is that large, you do more to protect it, and all that means is that it takes a little more effort to break it.

Chapter 8>

[thecryptidgrey]

As an avid lover of his Dark Materials I have yet to see a BG3 daemons concept and that is a Crime. So here are some Thoughts below the cut :)

(Also something something about the representation of religion in HDM and how it correlates to BG3's depictions of faith and trauma. I have the Idea but I am too tired to do much with it; may return to the thought later.)

Shadowheart- a borzoi. Elegant, spooky looking, dramatic. Borzoi don't make much vocal noise but are very playful- instincts surpressed by Sharrens that thrive with the party (see that very cute night orchid scene specifically). Generally very sweet, loyal animals, like SH when you get to know her. Plus they look amazing.

(Act 3 spoilers- I also appreciate that she'll match it when she dyes her hair. Seems suitable dramatic for her.) Anyways, I also really like borzois and think it's be funny af to see in them trotting around in game like the weird willow tree ghost things they are.

Lae'zel- Githyanki don't have daemons; she finds them baffling. Very impractical to carry one's soul on the exterior, although perhaps an efficient companion in combat to have someone you share instincts with. After much discussion by the others she decides for them if she did have one it would be a red dragon. Nobody argues with that.

(She does decide she'd have to prove herself worthy of such a beast first, and if she trusts Tav admits that maybe she'd like if Vlaakith could give her a daemon bond with her future dragon. Would she get a dragon if she became Vlaakith's chosen? Idk, she would now.)

Karlach- Tieflings also don't have daemons. She wants one wholeheartedly. The party finds her a magic ring that allows her to summon a familiar- she gets a direwolf puppy as enthusiastic and adoring as she is :)

Said ring is obtained somewhere in the Shadowlands after she gets the cooldown upgrade so she can hug it as soon as she has it. Also it grows up absolutely massive. Its paws are the size of its head when it's a puppy. All the better for cuddling with!

Gale- Tara. Wizards, sorcerers, etc, tend to have magical creatures as familiars. This AU he had Tara since the beginning. He still summoned all the other weird shit he did as a kid, just with Tara's help. She is his voice of reason and holder of the braincells; he gets to keep one and it's all about Mystra. She's protecting the rest from its corruption. He gets them back when the party convinces him to tell Mystra to go fuck herself.

(I do chew upon the trans Gale headcanon sometimes. If anyone wishes to muse with me on how daemons, which are typically of the opposite sex to their human, would be incorporated into that, please do.) Edit- pls see comments for very illuminating interpretations of daemons and gender!! Very cool stuff!

Wyll- lanner falcon. Medium sized yet formidable bird of prey, the head of which was often depicted on Egyptian gods like Ra and Horus. Beautiful, noble and nimble creatures (good for a dexterity based build, which I focused on for him alongside charisma).

Mizora's pact significantly lengthened their tether; her devil-form punishment broke it and weakened their bond significantly, much to their distress- they hate to be out of vision of one another as a result. Halsin, Jaheira and especially my Tav Cerewyn helped him adapt to and understand the new tether.

Druids and their daemons are based on the His Dark Materials witches, who have significantly lengthened bonds. Druid bonds are just as strong in markedly different ways; each is more independent and their personalities more distinct. I will definitley expand more on this; I adore Wyll and really want to do his character justice. He's the knight in shining armour but he also made a deal with a devil to be said knight, so, y'know. His daemon should really reflect that complexity.

Astarion- luna moth (changed when he turned- he can't remember what she was before.)

Beautiful in a fragile, showy way. Short-lived. Desperate for the light. A silkmoth; silk for embroidery. He resents her for being such a reflection of the self he tries so desperately to hide yet is fiercely protective of her, so beautiful and soft and hopeful- moths exist to seek light, craving it like he longed for a knight in shining armour, like he yearns for the sun.

Cazador liked to pin her wings.

(I love my sad wet cat very much and so as payback for hurting my soul he is subjected to the tragedy that is my attempting to be poetic :) )

Halsin- bear. Druid daemons reflect their favoured Wild shapes. Strong, steady, reliable, protective. Optimal shape for snuggles, very nice and warm, overall :) vibes to look at and be around. (Bear is not present for That Scene. That Scene and daemons are not up for discussion, you degenerates. Thank you <3)

Jaheira- Eurasian lynx. Struggled a bit on this one- didn't think any of the wild shapes suited her as a daemon- so looked up the national animal of Romania (supposedly Jaheira's accent?) for potential inspiration. Got the lynx, which seems perfect. Medium sized, elegant, very dignifed and deadly hunters who inhabit forests. Notably very quiet and hard to track. Endangered, which resonated with me because of Jaheira's status as one of the last of the Old Guard, so to speak. Nocturnal, which I like because we meet Jaheira in the shadow-cursed lands. Ambush predator, which just goes with my Gloom Stalker build for her. Overall seems perfect for the legendary druid.

Minsc- Boo? Fuck knows man, Minsc gonna Minsc. I spent way too long thinking about Jaheira and now I don't have the energy left. If Gale can have Tara, Minsc can have Boo. I do love Minsc so I will be back to expand on him if the mood strikes me but also I think maybe I don't need to? Daemon Boo just seems Right. Will consult Minsc's backstory and update later if necessary.

Minthara- yet to recruit her so uncertain. Displacer beast seems apt, maybe? Something felinoid would really fit her tbh. Elegant and lethal, very aloof but loyal once you've got her. Input would be appreciated.

My Tav, Cerewyn, just in case ya'll are interested- a raven named Gwyn, short for something I haven't figured out how to spell yet.

Clever, calculating, very blunt and sarcastic to balance out Cere's generally stoic, quite, calm demeanour. Sharp eyed bird for a sharpshooter ranger's daemon. Cere is a beast master ranger/ druid of land multiclass; ravens are summonable both for wild companions and familiars and are a wild shape (Cere's preferred wild shape too).

A common species but not to be underestimated and generally unpredictable, which suits her. She romances Astarion and both she and the raven think he and his luna moth are the prettiest things they've ever seen. They're also very patient and perceptive of trauma due to (Extensive Backstory), so they're more than happy to take their time with earning his trust. Astarion is very appreciative of all the shiny things the raven likes to bring him, and also that it clawed one of Cazador's eyes out for daring to speak to Astarion like That.

CONC.; symbolism is fun and also painful :)

Daemon names are a work in progress; the muses gave me this then said lol nope and fucked off before I could ask them for appropriate names. Might post them with some sketches of the party and daemons together?

(I wrote this in Notes app at an ungodly hour with fuck all editing. It is incoherent, but if anything is genuinely incomprehensible, please tell me so I may at least try to fix it. Much love <3 if you made it this far you get to know I welcome suggestions for NPCs to give daemons next!)

First edit- I misspelled quiet so many times omfg

[theladyofshalott1989]

I'm working on a story right now and struggling with where to go with it. I saw in one of your recent posts that you're currently outlining a story. If you don't mind sharing, how do you go about doing that? Thanks!

HELLO!!! Okay, so I panicked when I saw this Ask (in a good way, I promise hahaha), because while I do have a process, it's hard to describe. So, I went to my BFF @heyitszev to help me formulate my thoughts. Quoting him here, coming up with a quote for what I should say (LOL): "I follow Save the Cat! and then Bash does whatever he wants and I go with it." ^ So... THAT. 😂😂😂

But, to clarify that a bit... Save the Cat! is an outlining process used by screenwriters that can also be applied to novel writing. Here's a link to the website for it with a lot of wonderful resources that can help you on your writing journey. As wonderful as this process is, I do find some downsides to it as a writer of fanfic. 1. If you use this process, it's tough to write anything more than say, 100k+ words per story. Mapping out a story with specific beats that must be hit and resolved within a certain percentage of the story typically means there's a hard stop for the plot to be coherent. BUT, that's what series are for, so there you go.

Side note: I do think I would have a lot more engagement if I had just stuck to one overarching story (lots of readers on AO3 don't tend to follow along with a series, from what I'm finding), but it is what it is! 2. Sometimes the outline is a bit too constrictive for my taste. That's where Bash comes in. I've found over time that loosely outlining is much better than say writing 30+ pages worth of plot beats (yes, I did this for Like Moths to a Flame - it was very time-consuming - LMAO). When I plot loosely, it also leaves room for inspiration. While writing You Cannot Put a Fire Out, I had a general idea of where I wanted the story to go, but then Sebastian (my POV character) took over entirely, and the story went in a completely different direction than I was expecting. And, tbh, I loved "his ideas" even more. I guess what I'm saying here is to trust your instincts. You never know where they'll take you.

That's my writing process! From a routine perspective, once my outline is complete, I write every morning for an hour before work, and sometimes during my lunch break (also an hour). I also write during my toddler's nap time (roughly two hours) on weekends. I don't typically take a day off when I'm writing a story, unless I absolutely have to. Using that process ^, I wrote the first draft of Like Moths to a Flame in about three and a half months. Burning Bright took two months (it's a bit shorter and it didn't require me to watch a million YT playback videos to make sure the dialogue from the game was correct LOL), and You Cannot Put a Fire Out took me four months because Bash wouldn't let me use my outline and I had to move around (and remove!!! massive sigh) huge chunks of stuff I'd already written to make the story make sense. Then there's editing, lots and lots of editing, followed by sending to my lovely beta readers (yay), and then perhaps another draft or two before I start posting. It's quite involved, I will admit. But then, that's that! Thank you so much for asking. I wish you the best of luck with your story! :)

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 13: Another World

Timeline shenanigans and finally writing a bit about Nadia! Sorry it's a bit late.

He felt Nadia leave him. She didn’t just disappear, he felt her very being disintegrating, torn to ribbons and scattered in the winds of the paradox she had created. Then he woke up in his bed. Harsh noon sunlight hit his eyes through the window and he let out a groan. Memories of conflicting realities smashed together to create a hangover worse than even his most indulgent nights of drinking. His life now felt like a fading dream, only a few strong memories indelibly burned into his soul. The birthday where his life fell apart, the destruction of the Other that had ruined it, and her. Nadia Karayan, his vampire, his countess, his commander. The Aeon that had ripped the universe asunder to destroy the Worldwound before it had been created, and ripped herself apart in the process. His bed felt cold and empty without her lukewarm body. And now he was on the other side, in a world that had never known the Worldwound.

All he could do was lean back into the bed and squint his eyes at the harsh sunlight. He always felt a strange kinship to her when he had a hangover. The sunlight hurt her eyes too... “Damn light… Ugh, what time is it even?” He briefly glanced down at himself. At least he was still a man, that hadn’t changed with whatever else did.

“Daeran? Daeran Arendae, are you awake yet? It’s nearly noon!” A voice from outside answered his question and caused a pit to sink in his stomach. He trembled, unwilling to vocalize who the voice might be coming from. The door to his bedroom swung open and his mother was standing there. Countess Silaena Arendae. The years had been kind to her and had not dimmed her heavenly radiance. Still, his eyes only saw her haggard and dying from the disease that had claimed her in his original timeline.

“M-moth-” He choked up. Daeran was not a sentimental man. Life had forced that out of him long ago, but there was one promise he had made to himself. If he ever saw her again… Without regard to his state of near-nudity, he leapt from the bed and hugged her tight. As tight as a son who had lost his mother. Silaena froze up in her scolding. Something was different about her boy. Daeran desperately tried to hold tears back. She had no idea of the unwritten timeline he had lived through, she shouldn’t know that he had lost her. “I… I-I missed you…”

“Daeran, you saw me at lunch yesterday! Though I would have liked to know where you were all evening. I didn’t even hear you sneak back in.” There was a light scolding in her voice, concern mixed with annoyance that he missed so badly.

“R-right, sorry. I was just out. Nothing to be worried about.” He struggled to keep his composure, pulling away from the hug and avoiding her gaze.

Silaena frowned slightly and tilted Daeran’s chin up. “My boy… What happened? You look… Older.”

Daeran trembled. He had to hold it together. She wouldn’t believe him even if he told her. “I-it’s n-nothing, Mother.”

“Daeran. Don’t lie to your mother. Talk to me.”

“I-it’s nothing, I swear.” Tears were streaming from his eyes as he turned away in some vain hope his distress wouldn’t be noticed. “I d-don’t even know how to explain it…”

Silaena paused for a long while. “Alright, then. I might not understand, but… I think there’s something you feel you need to do? Go ahead.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. She was exactly as caring and understanding as he remembered, perhaps even moreso. He pulled her into another tight hug. “T-thank you, Mother.” She flashed him an understanding smile and left, closing the door as she went. Daeran fell back onto his bed and started to cry.

Why did him seeing his mother again have to come at the cost of the woman he loved? Why was the universe always so cruel to him? And what was he even supposed to do now? Daeran had longed for the day he could go back to his old life, provoking the elite of Mendev and living for nothing but his own pleasure. Now that there was no war, what was he supposed to do? Mendev probably wasn’t as insufferably sanctimonious anymore, the fun in screwing with them was gone.

Nadia… She’d have an idea. They’d talk sometimes, joking and talking about what they’d do after the war. She couldn’t have children and he didn’t particularly want any, but they had planned to get married, take revenge for her on the vampires of her homeland, and find ways to anger Mendev’s aristocracy even more.

He missed her. He had gotten used to her lukewarm body next to him and then bed felt empty without her there. Maybe… Nadia was a vampire, or close enough to one… She lived a long time, and was already over 60 when they met… Perhaps… Perhaps the Nadia in this world still existed! She wouldn’t have been kidnapped by Areelu, so maybe she was still out there! With renewed vigor, Daeran hopped out of his bed and got dressed. He’d need to learn about this new reality as subtly as possible to figure out just what had changed, but maybe… Maybe he could find her again.

[pro-depresanti]

~Valastor Week 2024~

prompt list by @valastorweekofficial

Day Two: Love Potion

Summary: Alastor tests out Val's new Love Potion. Valentino escapes within an inch of his life and with two less fingers. Alastor learns the hard way to not accept drinks from a pimp. With a pinch of my beloved Religious!Valentino headcanon.

Setting: Modern times a bit before the start of the show, Hell, Alastor and Valentino are dating

Word count: 2165

Warnings: drug use/overdose(?), unsuccessful induced vomiting, blood and violence

──────

As soon as Alastor heard the sharp clicking of heels, he knew something was up. Maybe a sixth sense, maybe the fact that Val would never ruin his persona by being in a hurry. Whatever it was, Alastor was certain he'd find out soon enough whether he liked it or not.

Valentino approached him to where the deer demon was sitting on the couch with a book in his hands. Smiled up so widely the corners of his mouth strained. "Heeeey, Alastor. Amorcito, baby, light of my life, my most precious–"

Alastor looked up from his book. "What do you want, my dear?" It was just now he noticed one of Val's hands was very carefully tugged behind him. No, Alastor did not like where this was going.

"Me? Wanting something?" The moth demon exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest in faux hurt. "Bambi, I would never–" after Alastor glared, Valentino finally dropped the sickly sweet facade. "I need you to test something."

That sentence coming from the mouth of the Overlord of all things sexual, was the last thing Alastor wanted to hear. Still, he hummed in acknowledgement, nodding to Val to continue.

The moth demon held out his hand, presenting to Alastor a glass bottle, about the size of a flask, pink liquid sloshing in it.

"And you need me for what reason exactly?" Alastor asked.

"If it works on an Overlord, then I'll know it will work on anyone, and I can't exactly try it myself."

"To my knowledge you work with two other Overlords besides me. Ask them, perhaps."

Valentino sighed. "You see... it's a funny story actually... but let's just say neither Vox, nor Velvette will take drinks from me."

Ha, who could have guessed. "I think I'll follow Vox's footsteps for once."

Valentino huffed, then instantly went to the almost pity inducing desperate persona, puppy eyes and all. "Come on, please. Pretty please? For me?" That obviously didn't do anything for Alastor, so Val finally straightened up and cleared his throat. "I transfer fifty of my contracts to you. Your pick, no limitations except Angel Dust."

Alastor involuntarily licked his lips. Certainly there would be some poor souls under Valentino that perfectly fit his high criteria for a meal. "And what's that thing you're so persistently trying to get me to consume?"

The hesitation was enough to tell the deer demon enough. Still, after carefully considering his words. "My saliva mixed with some chemicals to make the effect last longer." As soon as Alastor opened his mouth, Val interrupted him. "I've already tested it, but I don't know if those whores were exaggerating or not, but it's safe. I just don't know how effective it is. And don't look at me all grossed out as if I've never had my tongue down your throat."

Well, true, but there was a difference between that, and drinking spit from a bottle.

"Make it a hundred contracts," Val added quickly.

But, the grossness didn't exactly outweigh the possibility of some fresh meat. And, the non-physical powers weren't as effective between Overlords as they would be on a regular sinner. Hence why Alastor could kiss Val pretty much all he wanted and would merely get lightheaded afterwards. So, logically speaking, this concoction shouldn't have had all that much effect. Probably. Hopefully.

Alastor held out his hand, green tendrils coiling around him. "You transfer me two hundred contracts of my choosing. You would not speak of this to anyone, ever. And while I'm under the influence of this thing, you would not coarse, force, or otherwise make me do anything I wouldn't normally do." While yes, he and Val were technically together, they were still Overlords about to shake hands. Trust was there, sure, but Alastor also heavily relied on the fact that, under normal circumstances, he could fight off Val. Some habits died hard, and Valentino only respected safe words in the form of a carefully calculated kick to the crotch.

Valentino rolled his eyes. "As if I would even think about forcing the Radio Demon." What would have actually surprised him is for Alastor to just accept without a proper deal. So be it. He shook the deer demon's hand, pink and green light dancing around each other before dissolving into an explosion.

Now that there wasn't any backing out, Alastor reached for the glass bottle, opened the lid, and tipped it down, determined to take it like a shot.

Valentino realized that last part all but a second too late, instantly grabbing Alastor by the wrist. "No! Just a few drops!" Too late. Alastor had already downed half of it.

As unfazed as ever, Alastor smacked his lips. "This tastes like you and formaldehyde." Then he hummed, "not bad."

"Oh no, this is very bad," Valentino borderline shouted. "Fuck. Fuuuck." He started pacing around the couch, top set of hands holding his head, the other two waving around in a panic. "I should have clarified–"

Alastor just followed him around with his eyes, noticing the slight blur of his vision. Nothing much happened besides the expected drowsiness. Just a lingering taste and the familiar heaviness of alcohol setting into his stomach.

And just like cheap alcohol, a wave of dizziness smacked his skull. His ears started ringing, and his skin tingled uncomfortably, almost like a shiver, except for the fact that he was very much burning up.

He took in a deep breath and leaned against the back of the couch. He had dealt with worse things. It would pass. He just needed to keep his eyes open and try his best to ignore the disorientation. He wasn't even panicking, his head empty of thoughts.

Actually, this was nice. Peaceful almost. If that was how Val's pheromones usually affected sinners, Alastor could understand the appeal. The world around him felt distanct, muffled, surreal almost. The corners of his vision had dissolved to nothing but blobs of color, his head buzzing loud enough to cover up any other sound. His muscles tensed and relaxed in quick succession, something akin to a pulsing but painless headache through his entire body.

It was pleasant for a solid ten seconds, before his body jerked forward. No. He was getting moved. Dragged, more specifically. There were too many hands on him. One of them made contact with his bare cheek and he swore his face was going to melt off. Yet as soon as the brief contact was over, he involuntarily moved towards it, the leftover tingling, strong enough to hurt, much more unpleasant.

He tried to say something, realizing halfway that his mouth wasn't cooperating. Neither were his legs for that matter as his feet were dragged against the floor. Someone was talking. Loudly. Yet the words didn't register. He looked up, a red blob of color standing out against the blur of muted pinks.

Meanwhile, Valentino was absolutely losing his shit. He had no idea what that big of a dosage would do, but it certainly wouldn't be pretty. He practically dragged Alastor from the lounge room to the bathroom, quickly spitting out reassurance that fell on deaf ears.

"Al, we need to get you to throw up, okay? Then you'll feel better, yeah? It's not so bad, you'll feel fine afterwards." And no, Valentino was totally not saying that to reassure himself. "I'll owe you a favor, whatever you ask."

He let Alastor fall knees first to the floor, barely catching his upper body before the deer demon could hit his head against the porcelain. But Alastor was awake, eyes half lidded but open, scanning his surroundings. He slurred out something, and even Valentino with his experience with talking to drugged demons, couldn't decipher.

Slowly, he pried Alastor's mouth open, not meeting any resistance. "Take in a deep breath for me. Ready?"

No response. Great. Valentino haphazardly took off the gold caps on his index and middle finger, held Alastor's head to angle it downwards and got to it.

Alastor might not have been able to string a proper thought together, but his tongue easily recognized the feeling of skin. And bone. Two thin, long, bony pieces of meat. Fingers. Not his favorite, but Rosie had gotten him to like them as a light snack.

And he was hungry. So hungry. That must have been why his stomach felt so weird. He was hungry, and there was food in his mouth, there was only one logical course of action.

Valentino shouted so loudly he doubted the soundproofing on his entire floor could contain it. He yanked his hand out of Alastor's mouth, staring in shock at the space his two fingers should have been, now bitten clean off at the last knuckle. He cradled it to his chest, cursed under his breath, and was about to try again, this time holding Alastor's bottom jaw in place, but alas, the Radio Demon had other ideas.

Alastor snapped his head back 180°, staring directly at Valentino, eyes now fully focused. He chewed, loudly, then audibly swallowed, licked the few drops of blood that had spilled past his lips. "Hungry," he said, barely audible through the layers of static.

Valentino unlocked a brand new level of fear as he watched Alastor's magic swirling around him to form the familiar tentacles, his form growing taller with his head still twisted the wrong way.

The moth demon took a step back, all of his arms raised in surrender as he walked backwards towards the door. "Al? Al, let's talk about this. We can go fetch you someone to eat–"

Radio static echoed again the tiled bathroom, making Val flinch. But that was the least of his problems as Alastor, now at least twice as tall as the other Overlord, hunched over to fit under the ceiling, stepped towards.

And, stupidly of him, Valentino ran. Alastor, a bit clumsily followed close behind, more static frying every piece of electronic in the building, probably even the block.

Valentino had barely made it halfway into the lounge room before one of the tentacles had grabbed him by the legs and lifted him up. Alastor's mouth opened, lined with teeth as big as Valentino's palm, tongue lolling out as it uncurled.

"Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo," Valentino recited the Lord's prayer under his breath as he was brought towards the enormous chasm of a mouth. "Santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino–"

Just as he was inches away from being bitten in half, Alastor froze. In the blink of an eye, the tentacles dissolved in thin air, dropping Valentino from a good thirty feet. The green magic span around Alastor as he reverted back to his regular form, the deer demon slamming face first into the carpet.

Valentino scrambled backwards until he hit a wall, panting and shaking like one of his unseasoned whores. He waited a moment, two, ten, until he realized Alastor was not moving. "Alastor–"

He screamed as a door slammed open. Vox. Of course he noticed all his tech short circuiting.

"What the actual–" Vox started, shouting, before he took in the scene – bleeding and cornered Valentino, Alastor laying on the floor like a taxidermy carpet.

"I'm under a deal not to talk about this," Valentino explained quickly. "You saw nothing!"

"Is he–"

"I don't know!"

──

Alastor hated getting petted. Absolutely despised it. But, for once, he found the playing with his hair soothing. Valentino and his touchy self. Typical. He peaked an eye open, and goodness, his head was killing him. More then that one time a whole building fell on top of him, which said a lot. And he was thirsty. And hungry. And the light was annoying. He groaned and tossed around.

"Al!"

"Shut it." His ears were ringing. He was not in the mood to have a conversation.

"Sorry," Valentino whispered. "Are you okay?"

"I'm absolutely dainty, my dear."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear! Fuck, I didn't–"

Alastor turned around to face the moth demon, trying to focus. "For what?"

"You– you don't remember?"

Alastor stared dumbly, until it clicked. Val wanted him to try some concoction. Then they shook on it. "What happened..."

"Long story short, you tried to eat me."

Alastor hummed, then licked inside his mouth. "Is that why my mouth tastes like rancid blood?"

Valentino nodded slowly. "Al, I swear, I had no idea you were going to down half the bottle! Next time–"

Alastor grimaced, letting static into the air. Valentino flinched. "There won't be a next time because I'm never, accepting a drink from you. And I better have a nice, lean sinner that's not ridden with opioids within an arm's reach in the next minute."

"On it!" Valentino exclaimed as he sprang out of the bed and ran like his life depended on it, because it most likely did.

──────

Author note: this was fun to write lol. Coming from a questioning asexual – I get horny when I'm hungry, so I thought, 'hey, maybe it works the same in reverse!', so here we are! Honestly, it was Val's fault to put his fingers in the mouth of a cannibal!