#the veil demon oneshot

[anoddreindeer]

In The Market

Datchery watched as Sho and Han walked back towards the statue where the General waited. Sho had a puppy under each arm, and seemed delighted by that fact; Datchery was glad, though it was simply one more thing he'd have to acquire supplies for if the General allowed them to stay. Still, that was his purpose, and if things got too strained he could simply take Brutus to some fighting pits he knew; while the owners were wise to his ways, the participants could never resist the challenge that Brutus presented. Fools and their valuable possessions were soon parted at such places, and Datchery was no fool.

Datchery nodded to the shopkeeper, gave one last look at the white wolf - a white so fine it fairly glowed in the red light of the magma-driven forges nearby - and moved away. The purple one had been unique; the white would simply draw attention like a beacon across the hellscape, attention they could ill-afford if their General left again.

With that thought in mind, Datchery strode away purposefully down the market. The metal attached to the General's bones was clearly some form of leash; the General would never have abandoned them otherwise. So the first order of business was to get rid of it, and allow the General the freedom of leading them into battle under his own cognizance again.

Fortunately, the dwarven citadel was one of the foremost places in the Hell of Wrath to find metal shapers of all sizes, shapes, and types. While Datchery had never properly been to the citadel before, he had seen and dealt with dwarves in the markets of the Hell of Greed and knew approximately who he was looking for, if not which part of the market they were in. He passed weaponsmiths aplenty, though none of them had a blade to match the one in his hat - soul forged metal was rarely sold, after all - and therefore held little interest to Datchery.

There were not nearly so many armorsmiths in their own section further on. While Wrath demons were not, strictly speaking, opposed to armor, most were more interested in dealing damage to their enemies than avoiding damage. Datchery himself only wore his plated trench coat for the multitude of pockets it offered, the better to take and to store the things he needed to keep the team running.

He passed by the armorers without a second glance, and hurried through the next area. While his charges were less interested in taking and holding ground, there were a number of groups who would fortify a small area as a sort of base and this section of the market catered to them. Dwarves who specialized in wall cladding stood side by side with statue makers, and trap makers invited all and sundry to test their creations to see firsthand how well they worked; Datchery had to do an undignified scramble-hop to avoid impalement on a trap whose purveyor had not clearly marked the location of it.

Still, it was the last hurdle to get to the section of the market he needed - and probably deliberately so. The shops here were bland, little trinkets and secondhand items gathering dust on their displays; sharp interest gleamed out of half-lidded eyes that followed him as he made a beeline for the dustiest, most uninteresting stall he could see.

For all his impatience - his team was everything to him, but staying out of trouble was never their strong suit and it itched at him whenever he was gone - Datchery knew better than to rush things. He reached out and picked up some meaningless bauble and turned it this way and that in his hands, before setting it down picking up an equally inane item. All the while, his skin nearly itched with the dwarven proprietor's regard. Standing under the eye of a predator was never his favorite activity; still, he would endure a lot more for his General without complaint.

"Looking for something in particular?"

Datchery set the - fancy pouring bowl? - back on the display in precisely the same position he had pulled it from, the outline in the dust making it easy.

"I do suppose that I am."

The shopkeeper leaned forward slightly, just enough to angle their face away from the other merchants in the street.

"How particular?"

Datchery shifted, matching their casual stance and shifting his own response out of sight as well.

"Extremely."

The merchant nodded, stood and stretched with a well-practiced casualness, and beckoned him forward.

"A demon of taste, I see! Perhaps something in the back would suit you better."

Datchery tipped his hat and followed them into the narrow confines of the small shopfront.

The entry was lined with shelves displaying similar merchandise as outside - small, dusty, and largely valueless. The room behind the shelving, however, was cleaned with an almost mechanical precision. Cold metal work surfaces gleamed under unwavering blue-white light, and the temperature plunged to the point where Datchery's breath frosted the air on every exhale. The temperature played an uncomfortable counterpoint to racks of gleaming tools, knives in every size and shape imaginable resting side by side with things Datchery didn't have names for.

The dwarf leading him went over to a desk and opened a large ledger. Datchery noted with detached interest that their breath didn't steam in the chill.

"I can't say that I have many demons coming into my shop, especially whole ones. Your lot are more likely to graft trophies onto yourselves if you lose a limb, never mind where they came from. Still, business is business; what, exactly are you looking for?"

The ledger contained drawings, most precise and mechanical with two or three more free-flowing illustrations making odd interruptions. Datchery reached over and flipped through the pages; nothing was a precise match - not that he expected one - but the one that was close enough drew a tap from him.

The dwarf frowned, looking at him sharply.

Datchery shook his head at the unspoken question.

"It's not for me. In fact, it's not for anyone, but especially not the person it's on."

The dwarf sucked a breath through his teeth and looked back at the ledger.

"It'll cost you."

Datchery wordlessly pulled an angel pinion from beneath his coat. It gleamed under the lights, golden hues rippling with an almost oily sheen.

The dwarf laughed.

Datchery patiently pulled out a spiraled horn, its pearlescence casting odd reflections all over the shop.

The dwarf stopped laughing.

"You're serious."

Datchery pulled a small cat's-eye marble from his inner pocket. A light gleamed and flickered inside, almost as if it was searching for a way out.

The dwarf let out a surprised breath, almost as if Datchery had punched him. They looked around furtively, though there was no one else in the room, and held out their hand. Datchery wordlessly placed the items in it; for his General, he would even give up the heart encased in amber in his breast pocket.

His General would not ask him to.

His General would never need to ask.

The dwarf opened a metal chest underneath the desk - notable for the way it did not gleam, not even under the blue-white lights - and placed the items inside before turning back to their desk and pulling a small square of tanned hide from a drawer. Instead of a quill or other writing utensil, they scored seven runes into the surface and scraped it smooth with one of the tools Datchery couldn't identify. Careful not to spill a drop, they pulled a small silver pitcher from the same drawer and filled each rune with a blood-red liquid; as each rune filled, it flashed gold before disappearing from sight.

When the seventh rune had filled and flashed, they put away the pitcher and held the hide out to Datchery, who rolled and stowed it in an inner pocket.

"I didn't give you that. You've never been to my shop. But, the next time you see an Abbaddon demon, you give them that and pay them whatever they ask."

Datchery suppressed a shudder; he'd never dealt with Abbaddon demons - nobody who was sane dealt with Abbaddon demons; sane demons chose pre-emptive self preservation - but he'd heard the rumors. Butchery was the very least of your worries if you dealt with an Abbaddon demon, and vivisection was listed among their kindnesses. Their cruelties…

Datchery shelved the thought. For his General, no price was too high.

Between one blink and the next, Datchery was back on the sleepy market street. Voices called his name and he turned.

His General needed him.

[myownwholewildworld]

WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C’mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

[uhreo]

"rivius?"

the tiny voice of a young girl that held a hint of vulnerability behind it bounced around the walls of the empty room, it was devoid of any life except for the two kids who were inside hiding from the boisterous voices of other nobles outside.

despite the thunderous music that went on just outside of this little room the young demon still heard her voice that meekly called for him, his attention leaving the toys that he was tinkering with. "what is it? is something bothering you?" his voice was sharp and authoritative—as always—but there was an underlying softness and a veiled fondness whenever he addresses you but you don't seem to pick up on it. "I heard some of the adults talking– and i wasn't eavesdropping! I was just passing by and–...uhm.."

your face burned with shame but also with an emotion that you were scared to put a name on, your mouth couldn't seem to form the next words and rivius immediately picked up on your discomfort as his long ears twitched— a sign that he was listening and waiting for you to continue your words.

"I heard them saying something about how my family would be moving away from here and relocating in the human realm."

your mouth moved quickly to spout those words that you've been dreading to tell him about and receiving no reaction from him made you think that perhaps he had not heard what you had said.

but then his movements suddenly ceased and so was his tinkering, he looked to be frozen and you were scared that maybe you had offended him with your words.

"I'm still unsure though since my parents haven't told me any news about moving away and hey! maybe it isn't true and then we could just, you know, forget about what I just said–" your lips quivered as you desperately spewed out whatever came to your mind to try and comfort the boy in front of you that was still frozen, you didn't want him to think you were abandoning him—

"you're leaving?"

your train of thoughts was interrupted by the tense and irritated voice that thinly shrouded the immense anger and sadness boiling inside rivius' small body that made his ears twitch and his tail swish side to side in a distraught manner.

"w-well as I said before–" you were beginning to feel uneasy now with the way his head suddenly snapped in your direction and as you stared at his eyes, you couldn't deny that the emotional storm that was welling deep inside him that reflected through his eye made your hands start to feel clammy with sweat as you clenched your hands into a fist to control its shaking.

“you're not going to leave, I refuse to let you leave me. you simply can't just leave me all alone here.”

he stood up.

and you suddenly felt so small under his looming figure despite him being short— his dark eyes stared at you with such intense emotions that it made your heart beat faster.

you feel nervous—

no.

you were scared.

why did you suddenly start feeling so scared of him? of rivius? he was your bestfriend! he wouldn't harm you so why were you afraid to avert your gaze from his scrutinizing eyes that felt like it belonged to a predator and you were starting to feel like a defenseless prey that was about to meet its end once you take your eyes off him.

his slow deliberate footsteps echoed and not once did his eyes leave your own for a second, it felt like you were getting stalked by a predator and you just stood there frozen as cold sweat started dripping from your forehead.

“why did you suddenly go quiet? I'm not scaring you am I? no, that would make you want to leave me even more.”

... tbc?

@ backstage notes— this is going to be so long if i continue and it was just supposed to be a little short blurb to get me out of writer's block and I love rivius so much hahaha. this is going to be a full blown oneshot in the future, plot is supposed to be rivius having his childhood friend (you / reader) leave him > them meeting when they're adults > him finally having you by his side again by being his assistant. this is purely self-indulgent!! meaning none of this is canon to the oc's ( rivius ) story, rivius belongs to @2-dsimp !! also, both are kids / children in here hence why reader / you is easily intimidated by rivius but i tried to keep his fancy speech style but still make it fitting for a child.

[devildomsoup]

Shatter and Repeat

Genre: Angst

Character: Lucifer

Type: Oneshot

He is tired.

So, so very tired. 

Lucifer's back hurts, his head is pounding and everything seems slightly blurry. But he will not let it show.

From an outsider's perspective, he looks completely fine. Even from his brothers’ perspective, he looks fine. Nobody can tell that Lucifer is, in fact, anything but fine.

That is how he wants it to be. 

Lucifer is the avatar of pride. There is no way he will let anyone know he is struggling. His pride will simply not allow it.

Or rather, he will not allow himself to be a burden.

His brothers, annoying as they sometimes can be, are still the light of his life. They are his motivation. They are whom he fights to protect.

They are his everything.

They are his younger brothers, and he is their older brother.

As their older brother, it is his duty to make them happy.

Sure, Mammon's spending habits are annoying. But in the end, Lucifer still pays the bills Mammon can not and hands him a few Grimm for "food" just to be sure.

Sure, Leviathan's ramblings can be a bit tedious. But in the end, Lucifer will still wait hours in line for that limited edition anime figurine Leviathan dreamed of even though he has loads of work.

Sure, Satan's rampages are tiring. But in the end, Lucifer still replaces any book of Satan's that the avatar of wrath might destroy by accident.

Sure, Asmodeus' constant partying gets on his nerves. But in the end, Lucifer still stays awake every time, so Asmodeus can get help if he needs it.

Sure, Beelzebub's never-ending hunger drains him from time to time. But in the end, Lucifer will still make sure to always buy extra food whenever he goes grocery shopping. 

Sure, Belphegor's sleepiness causes problems. But in the end, Lucifer still places a blanket over Belphegor whenever he falls asleep in a random place.

Ultimately, no matter how much he denies it, Lucifer loves his family.  

He does things that he is not proud of, and maybe he is too harsh. But he truly cares about his brothers.

Sometimes, though.

Just sometimes.....

It feels like his brothers do not care about him.

Maybe Lucifer deserves it. Maybe this is his punishment. Maybe this is his own fault. Maybe if he could just be better. But why can his brothers not see how much he is hurting?

Why can they not understand that the constant bickering is wearing him down? Can they not see the grey hair that appears because Lucifer needs to solve most of their problems?

But that is the name Lucifer has made for himself. The eldest brother with a heart of stone and a cruel smile. The one who rules the home with an iron fist and ice-cold eyes.

Maybe if he just said something.

No.

He can not do that. He just simply can not do that. Impossible.

He is not Lucifer if he can not shoulder every burden. He is not Lucifer if he can not carry the world. He is not Lucifer if he can not be perfect all the time.

How can he possibly be proud of himself if he can not do that?

If he can not keep all the pieces of himself together even when they are threatening to fall apart.

If he allows the people around him to see those tears that are threatening to spill at any given moment?

Lucifer can not possibly allow himself to do that. How can he call himself the avatar of pride if he can not even keep himself together?

Perhaps the true nature of his sin is self-destruction.

An evil force gnawing at his bones hidden under a veil of confidence. The sin that is engraved into his soul is tearing Lucifer apart. Tearing his family apart. But his sin is screaming to be pleased to have its needs fulfilled.

The constant need to be perfect. To be the best.

He knows he should stop, but he has no idea how to do that. How can he stop the evil growing inside his chest? How can he fix the gaping hole in his heart?

Sure, he can smirk as he watches those lower demons quiver in fear of his power. But in the end, did it really matter? Is the price of this perfection really worth it? Is all of this really worth it if it destroys his family?

Lucifer does not have time to think about those things, at least not right now. Not while he has to keep his facade up. Not while he has to keep himself together. Because if he thinks about it now, he might shatter.

So Lucifer will bury all those feelings deep inside. At least for now.

At least until he is out of sight and all the paperwork is done. Lucifer will wait until everyone in the House of Lamentation falls asleep and all the papers have been signed. He will write until his hands bleed and his eyes sting. Only then can he allow himself to let go.

When everything is finally finished and his home is dead silent, Lucifer will take off his mask.

Lucifer allows himself to crumble into tiny pieces. He allows himself to cry until he gets nauseous. He will cry so silently that the only proof of him crying will be the tears dripping down his cheeks. He feels regret, fear, and despair. All the feelings he locks away during the day.

Lucifer allows himself to shatter.

When the next day arrives, he will pick up all the tiny pieces and put them back together. Lucifer will put his mask back on. He will walk out of his room and have breakfast with his brothers like nothing happened. He will push through the day, and then when it becomes night, he will fall apart again only to put himself back together the next morning.

Shatter and repeat.

Shatter and repeat.

Shatter and repeat.

[b1zmuth]

A Strong Tea For The Weak-Willed | Lucifer X Reader Oneshot

SC // slight angst, comfort, fluff, somber ending, despair x10

TL:DR: A homesick reader drinks tea and has a big fucking coming to Jesus moment about life before coming to the DD, lucifer sits with and drinks tea..?

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‘’With due diligence, patience will wear thin and the veil of sorrow will reveal itself.’’ … I remember that sentence from a book I borrowed from Lucifer. But for some reason, it..stuck with me. The feeling of despair crawled up my spine- the stomach-churning anxiety that came with each silly excuse to get me to stay. 

I've been staying in the common room for hours now, sitting by the fireplace to debate if I should really go through with leaving..

But staying here brings nothing but that same god-awful feeling to my body. Why bother staying if I'm just going to be constantly compared to her? 

I've chalked it up to just being homesick for months now- but there is no denying it anymore.

There is no WANT to go home, I NEED to return to where I belong- somewhere where these demons don't pester me about how I’m nothing like HER!’’ I’m just a weak, stupid replacement for HER’’ and don't even get me started about the constant threat of being mauled by Beelzebub or having to be on the receiving end of Satan’s wrath- which is already a punishment in itself mind you. 

It's only been three months since I arrived in the Devildom- three months of pure hell. It really makes me wonder what on God's green earth did I do to deserve being down here? 

What did I do to deserve this? This�� unforgiving personal fucking hell? 

Feeling the hot and warm salty tears fall from the grace of your eyes, watching them fall with an unexplainable pearlescent shine of a mix between reds and blacks, that finally made you get a grip on reality- your own tears, staining the cushiony leather chair you sat upon.

I.. I can't stay here. But I have no options or a clue as to how to leave- I could ask Diavolo? No- no. That egocentric jerk seemed a little TOO eager for my arrival- I'll just take my chances and ask Lucifer..! Right! 

A deep, but authoritative loud voice spoke from your right, startling you.‘’A little eager to leave, aren't we?’’ ‘’..???” confusion now struck throughout your body, causing your heart and mind to start racing to find closure- comfort, fuck it, ANYTHING at that moment.

The voice belonging to the mysterious owner caused you to jump in an odd mix between genuine fear and confusion- ‘’I hope you weren't planning on leaving the House of Lamentation- especially not without my profound knowledge of your dismissal?’’ the voice spoke again, now in an accusatory-but-questioning tone …was it him? Just how long has he been there?

 ‘’You look awfully confused. Did you hit your head on the way here? Or are you just not competent enough to understand what I'm saying?’’ the voice, now with a darker tone, presumably irate that you’ve been straight ignoring them for three minutes now- ‘’I am very much competent- probably more fucking competent than the likes of YOU infact!’’ you snapped back, the irritation prevalent in your voice- your mouth finishing its sentence mere seconds before your body finally snapped towards the voice, letting you finally see who the pestering and belittling demon was..

And to not much of your shock, it was Lucifer.

‘’Fuck.’’ 

His daunting figure dragging along a matching despairful aura- sending chills down your spine and the suffocating-like grasp of just his presence alone making you uncomfortable- his monotone color palette that consisted of nothing but black, grey, and red did nothing to help the situation. 

‘’For someone who was just wallowing in their own self-despair, you seem to be quick at the mouth.” He said, his legs crossing over from one to the other- “why cry in such a public place? Why not wallow in your despair in the comfort of your own room?” 

You scoffed at his comment, wiping your tear-stricken face- “What does it matter to you? Any room in this god-forsaken house fills me with nothing except for the longing for my HOME! To see my home again Lucifer! The place where I can walk around in peace without having my life constantly threatened- to stop being compared to your DEAD sister! Is that what you all wanted from me?! To be a ragdoll designed to take your anger out on?!” You yelled, the tears that you had just stopped from flowing- now coming out in full force, a waterfall of tears raining down upon the neat carpet underneath you. 

“Is that, truly, how you feel about being here?” Lucifer asked, his monotone voice doing nothing to appease your shattered heart- “Sit down. I will go prepare some tea, maybe that will cease your meticulous weeping.” He sighed, motioning his hand for you to sit down.

It took you a couple of seconds of internal conflict with yourself and staring at the slowly disappearing figure of Lucifer for you to finally get yourself together enough to sit down. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Eventually, Lucifer returned with a tray of tea and some pastries- cookies and sweet bread you guessed. 

After setting down the tray of goods Lucifer dusted himself off before finally sitting down and taking a sip of his tea, swirling the pearlescent-colored liquid around his cup- “do you really feel that distraught about living with us?” You paused, taking a moment to process what Lucifer just said.

“Of course. Who wouldn't? I was ripped from my home via some mysterious force, took to a random place where I knew nobody except for the nine men in front of me that I hoped I would get to know- but that was wishful thinking, right? It's been three months of constant reminders that I will never be like Liltith, this HOUSE is a constant reminder that I will probably never see my home again, my family, my friends-“ you ranted, only to be quickly cut off by Lucifer.

 “My life before I was dragged down here. That's what you were going to say, right?” He responded, his icy cold gaze softening after listening to how your situation was and how it resonated with how he felt- “I know it may not seem like it to a human like you, but I understand how you feel. That feeling of never being able to go to your true home, to see your family again- because I've experienced it, and already are experiencing it. He started, holding up a gloved hand to stop your confused questions. 

“I apologize for my brother's actions towards you. I find it utterly disgusting and unacceptable that they would treat you, someone innocent, that way. I apologize for the way I, myself, have acted towards you- not being there enough for you when you are in the same boat as I once was.

I have failed you, as both a caretaker and the only guide you have had.” He ended, placing his cup of tea back on the tray and bowing his head in an apology. 

“… We are in the same boat? Seriously Lucifer, you are a demon- is this not your home? You live here, your home is nothing but a mere twitch away!” You slightly lurched forward in your chair, holding your hand out at Lucifer to further prove your point. 

“You are clearly not a big reader of that “bible” you humans love to pass around.” He shook his head before reaching for his teacup. 

What a dick. How can you be a demon and want to talk to ME about “not being able to return home” and “being in the same boat as me” for him? This is his home here- my home is forever out of my grasp, most likely destroyed! Hell, I'm probably dead and Diavolo is just toying with me about this whole “Exchange Student Program”! What could HE, LUCIFER, know… know- 

And then it clicked. 

Lucifer, the avatar of pride, someone who fell from the shining graces of Heaven, someone's home who isn't a “probably never to be reunited with” but an “Eternally confined to the fiery pits of hell for your wicked soul to find eternal damnation”. 

Someone who would never see a part of his family, someone who would constantly be beaten down by people he didn't even know well- us humans and the angels. 

Someone who would never go home again.

Taking a sip from his tea, Lucifer smiled at your now bewildered face- ‘’Its not a difficult task to evade through, i will guide you, but only if you really need my guidance.’’ he uncrossed his legs before standing up and offering his hand towards you, gaining a small smile from you in response.

Taking up Lucifers offer, you took his hand in yours, feeling the small warmth that emanated off of his hand- despite the obvious barrier of straight leather glove that ceased any skin-to-skin contact with the taller male. 

‘’If you could get Satan to stop throwing piano’s at me.. That would be nice change of pace.’’ you motioned towards the half smashed piano that was stuck in the nearby wall, getting a displeased groan from the latter and another apology, now for the hazardous mess you had to evade everyday- ‘’Also, thank you for the tea, it tasted original.. Does it have a name?’’ you questioned, your head instinctively turning upwards to look at him.

‘’A Strong Tea For The Weak-Willed. The herb leaves i added help with stress and dopamine levels, although, im pleased to hear that you enjoyed it.’’ he smiled tiredly at you, your conversation lasting all the way up until the both of you made it to your room door.

You thanked him for the walk before wishing him a goodnight and heading into your room- but not before being able to hear him reciprocate the same words back. 

‘’Goodnight, MC.''

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This was my first ever fanfic! I tried to keep with the plot and implement the comfort parts without making that said comfort feel rushed, and I for ONCE wrote out the plot and didn't do freeballing it lol

I hope you enjoy it! also, SC stands for story contents (it was actually supposed to be TW but I thought that one over and confused myself)

bizmuth 24' | Bizmuth's Workshop

[thependragonarchives]

SOOO homunculi/mid fantasy AU. who'd have thought, right? currently writing a oneshot, will explain more underneath cut + add closeups bc ik my handwriting is hard to read

The AU takes place in a fantasy-futuristic New London, 30 years after the 1,000 year war. WHAT IS THE THOUSAND YEAR WAR? The Empress, alongside her fellow kingdoms, made the move to invade the world of the living. Demons were starving to death, and the leaders of Hell decided that their people shouldn't suffer any longer. She fused Heaven, Hell, the Veil, and the Mortal Realm into one plane of existence. Heaven, alongside the Veil, fought back against the demonic invasion. Humanity were split in the middle, some joining the demonic crusade while others fought alongside angels and reapers. As the name suggests, this war lasted for exactly one thousand years!! HOMUNCULI?? Two reapers, 136649 and Othello, decided to invoke ancient alchemy to make invincible soldiers to combat the demon invasion about 200 years into the war. The original homunculi were mindless drones, easily breakable. 136649 figured that using the souls of the dead were more useful than just storing the souls away, so (without Othello's knowledge), he used two souls left over from two dead reaper officers. These creations- Known as Mercury Brimstone Venus (M.B.V.) and Mercury Sulfur Venus (M.S.V.) were the first two 'sentient' homunculi. With this success, 136649 began creating more without telling Othello the reason their Vessels/Homunculi were doing so well!! Eventually, Dispatch discovered what 136649 was doing, sending a small group to destroy the lab. Only one homunculi was found, M.S.V., who looked familiar to one of the officers. William, shocked and horrified that UT would do such a thing, took M.S.V. back to Dispatch and gave him his name back. M.S.V., now Ron Knox, was trained to be a reaper.

Ron doesn't have any memories from his life as a reaper. He shares similar traits, but he isn't quite...Ronald. Other people who had homunculi return to them wearing the faces of their loved ones have reported that it's off with the homunculi around. One reaper, Alan Humphries, says that Eric isn't like the man he loved at all. They look different, they act different, but life goes on. THE TOURNAMENT? So! Once every century a fighting tournament is held to give one lucky soul a 'Wish'. This wish, given by the Greater God itself, will grant the winner anything they want, except more wishes. The tournament allows any weapon, and 'duos' (demons who turn into weapons Soul Eater style with a 'Wielder' being another human/demon/angel/reaper). Magic runes activate to keep the contestants safe from fatal harm, but the reapers in charge are wary whenever demons enter, in fear that they can break the runes. RON?? Ron decided to take the name 'Ron Knox' instead of the real Ronald Mason Knox that died. He carries Ronald's soul, is a lot more laid-back and less prideful than the real Ronald was. He's also a natural blonde! I'll get into him fully later, but he is M.S.V!! Here's his design notes + notes for other homunculi :D

NEXT IMAGE IS THE CONTORTION/BODY HORROR IMAGE LOL

[potatoesandsunshine]

hello! for the fic asks, this part from "like a wolf in the doorway":

 Percy takes a breath, looking at the inked veins and the scribbled notes in the margins, thinking of blood flow. “Oliver liked to climb trees.”

   Just saying it leaves him breathless. He can summon up the image clearly now, untainted by the dark cloud he now thinks was the demon, and it somehow hurts all the more to picture Ollie and Whitney running across the castle grounds, play-fighting in the spring air. There is no rage to catch him and put him back into motion; only a deep, aching emptiness remains.

   He drags in air, but he’s drowning.

   Pike isn’t in armor today. She moves carefully into his space—she does everything carefully—and catches his good hand in hers. Her skin is warm. When did he get so cold?

   “Thank you for telling me,” is all she says, and then she starts a long story about Grog, her great-great-grandfather, and a herd of perilously stubborn goats. By the time she reaches the punchline, he’s well enough to laugh.

   “We can do this today,” he says, looking at the parts and looking at her, a wild rush buoying him. “It’ll work, I know it.”

   And Pike, probably realizing that he’ll do it alone if she refuses, says yes.

    He comes to on the floor of the workshop with the soft golden veil of the Everlight’s power over his mind, dulling the memory—the length of soiled bandages peeled back, Pike holding his wrist down with furious strength as he tried to fit everything together, nothing to numb him and it was so, so bad, he’d shouted—it’s all fading quickly, and he doesn’t want to drag it back up. He can leave this pain here in this room. 

   His throat aches and Pike is inspecting his left hand, bending the fingers one by one to touch the smooth metal that sits where his palm used to be. There’s an empty socket there, but she doesn’t ask what he’s going to put in it.

   Percy smiles, a bright flash of teeth.

hi!!!!!!! thank you so much!!! i love talking about my fic and the tlovm oneshots project as a whole was a really fun experiment to do. i wanted to be a little more involved in the fandom as the show was coming out, and i set the ‘just try to write 1k about each episode’ bar intentionally low so that it couldn’t intimidate me. this was a pretty big success - i didn’t really manage to keep current with the release of the show, but it did keep me writing all through 2023 :) now about this passage specifically!!

“Oliver liked to climb trees.”

the older i get the sadder i get about the de rolo children. genuinely it is so so so sad.

There is no rage to catch him and put him back into motion; only a deep, aching emptiness remains.

i wanted this moment of really abrupt and painful vulnerability for percy - i feel like tlovm!percy is even worse at dealing with his emotions than campaign!percy, mostly due to the compressed nature of the adaptation - and what i want most with this character is to turn the rock over and see all of his metaphorical bugs wriggling around underneath. a huge part of this fic was me wanting to address the demon as a coping mechanism; i wanted it to feel worse to remember the good times once he could remember them clearly, because it comes with the pain of knowing he’ll never have those days again. sometimes smiling because it happened brings no comfort at all.

Pike isn’t in armor today. She moves carefully into his space—she does everything carefully—and catches his good hand in hers.

it was also a big priority for me that the characters sometimes get things wrong about each other in these oneshots! pike does not do everything carefully - but percy needs to think she does. it’s not that she’s being dishonest or anything, but he’s encountering her in an extremely specific context in this scene and he’s choosing to read that as a blanket statement about her personality. we’re pre-sunken tomb in this scene, but he’s already looking to put people on pedestals around himself; if he’s looking up, he doesn’t have to face the huge pit of grief inside. wow this fic is a downer!

“We can do this today,” he says, looking at the parts and looking at her, a wild rush buoying him.

THAT’S MY KING OF MOOD SWINGS!!!!! YOU CAN INVENT YOUR WAY OUT OF ANY TRAUMA IF YOU JUST INVENT HARD ENOUGH!

He comes to on the floor ... He can leave this pain here in this room.

it’s genuinely a minor miracle from pike that allowed this surgery to happen - a fun bit of irony, since percy really doesn’t put much stock in the divine. and i’m not being subtle in this paragraph; he can leave this pain here, but he’s carrying the rest of it with him forever. this whole pike scene is kind of... the relief of ripping off the scab if that makes sense? it might not be a good move in the long run, but at least you’ve done something with all of it in the moment.

Percy smiles, a bright flash of teeth.

this is a triumphant moment for him. i wanted to turn Diplomacy into a collaborative piece, to reflect the combo-move it was with vax later on in the show & because i love putting pike and percy in a room together. i wish it had happened more during the campaign, and i’m desperate for it in tlovm (though i don’t really expect to get it, there’s just not time). so he’s smiling, and he won, but he’s also always picking at scabs and becoming the architect of his own destruction. that’s the secret sauce for percy imo. he should always be building the next thing that ruins him, especially if that thing is himself.

[mythicamagic]

Living Deliciously: Yang/Liliana Demon AU oneshot

Summary: A wandering demon happens upon the revered Saint Liliana of Burlone, and becomes infatuated with the idea of bringing about her fall into damnation. Rated E.

Word count: 9,000+

Feel free to read this on Ao3

AN: This fic was heavily inspired by trashiigomi's Yanglili demon AU art, link: here

Please give them a follow: https://twitter.com/trashiigomi?s=20

Warnings: Smut. In keeping with Piofiore, there’s a lot of stuff that could be considered religious blasphemy in this fic, so don’t read if you’re sensitive to that kinda thing. Female Genital Mutilation is also mentioned but no instance of it is performed in this fic.

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Many deities and angels alike thought themselves ‘above’ mankind. Above the needs and wants of the weak, needy and desperate. In this way, demons were closer to humans than either would care to admit. Demons didn’t bother to assert themselves as ‘above’ humans, for they lurked beneath. Instead of shrinking away from shame in fear of sin, they embraced it. Became it. 

As such, Yang had never cared for those who thought themselves too pure and good for the needs of the sullied. Eternity dragged on, and with it came no short amount of humans who were deemed 'holy figures', as if aspiring to be like those polished, unblemished beings in the heavens. Many humans would zealously recite scriptures and the ‘words of God.’

Yang snorted. As if such an indifferent being would bother to speak to them. 

Sometimes these self-important humans would speak of sin and devils, trying to guard themselves and their flock against such evils. 

Little do they know that the mere thought of me invites me into their good company. 

Yang drifted through the Burlone monastery during one endlessly long summer, glancing every so often at the solemn-faced worshippers as sweat clung to their brows. Even holy ground could provide little relief from sweltering heat.

Not one human could see him as he passed by as little more than a whisper of silk brushing their sides, but that suited his needs just fine. He'd heard tell of a juicy rumour and little would dissuade him from exploring the monastery until he found what he sought. 

Walking inside the adjoining cathedral, he took in the change in the air, glancing around the wide-open space. Occasional statues of holy figures stood resolute, carved out from stone inside the very walls. Yang slinked behind the shadows of large stone pillars lining the outside of the grand hall and inhaled, rooting through the various minds of people dutifully sitting in prayer. Many were troubled, susceptible to temptation. 

He loomed over one young man, clawed fingers curling over the back of the church pew. He'd make for an easy meal. A snack to indulge in before finding his true mark-

A commotion stilled his hand. Annoyed, Yang looked across the great marble hall to where a side door had opened. 

About ten nuns were flanking a woman in the centre of their gaggle. Common folk stood from their seats at the pews and hurried over, trying to touch or speak to the woman in white. 

Sunlight streaming in through nearby stained glass windows threw the woman in a myriad of colours as she stopped and clasped her hands, bowing her head to pray at the altar. She ignored everything else around her as the nuns kept people at bay. 

She was untouchable. In more ways than one. 

Golden eyes swept her from head to toe, noting where her gown was plastered to her form due to the heat. 

This was the juicy rumour he'd heard about. A Saint, beloved by all. Quiet, unassuming but worshipped for her function as a ‘Key Maiden’- some sort of archaic title the people of Burlone revered. 

Yang didn’t care about all that nonsense. He was enraptured for one reason alone:

The woman possessed the purest soul he'd ever seen in all his long years. 

Hunger climbed up his throat. Yang wet his lips, mouth feeling dry. A fall of thick blonde hair could be seen beneath her gossamer veil. 

Yes, he found the concept of worship a joke. He'd wanted to see this spectacle for himself just to laugh at it and maybe corrupt this 'Saint Liliana' to prove a point. He hadn't anticipated being so...intrigued by her appearance though.

She lifted her head, giving him a glimpse of dulled green eyes. They only livened when flicking up to the window longingly. He wondered what kind of obscene expressions he could draw out of her- if she'd be begging, wild or tearing up from lust with a little coaxing. 

His blood pumped faster at the thought. It went unacknowledged by him- but on a baser level, this was no longer a passing fancy. A fever burned in his flesh. He knew great pleasure would be attained in both the pursuit and meal of this woman. 

He was going to devour this 'Saint' Liliana, and he would enjoy every fucking minute of it. 

----

The easiest thing to do when trying to reach someone untouchable is to go through another. Someone close to her. 

Elena Croce seemed to fit this role perfectly. While devoted to the church, she was closer to Liliana than the other sisters in their company. More of a friend than a simpering worshiper. 

Yang had also happened to notice her friendly conversations with a young man named Leo inside the cathedral, and felt the simmering longing inside her heart that was so easily exploited. 

What a pity it would be for a virginal nun if that innocent crush was taken to new heights. 

"Hah- ah- Elena-! M-maybe we shouldn't be doing this-" 

"I need you so bad- please!" 

Golden eyes looked on with boredom as smoke drifted out from his pipe, leisurely surrounding the couple currently rutting like animals against a stone column. It was late at night; everyone else in the monastery having retired to bed. The more smoke filled their lungs, the more desperate their movements. They seemed blind to their own surroundings, having met in secret within the halls beneath the nun’s dormitories. Yang cut his gaze to the ceiling and pushed off from the column to grasp Leo's damp blonde hair and tug his head back. 

"Slow down," he purred silkily in the mortal's ear. "Savour it." 

Leo couldn't hear him of course but obeyed the command instinctively all the same. Good. If they were too hasty, things would be over before his little plan could come to fruition. 

A gasp reached Yang's hearing. His pointed ear twitched, and he turned to find a pair of wide green eyes staring at the couple in horror. 

I have you now. 

Yang grinned, immediately able to appear behind the Saint, who was dressed in nothing but her nightgown. He'd deliberately opened the door of her quarters to allow the breathy noises to reach her. Harsh slapping sounds of bodies meeting now overwhelmed the hall. 

"It's a depraved sight, isn't it?" he sighed with mock sympathy, leaning in close to her fall of buttery blonde hair while she hid behind the shadows of a column. "You'll find there's a kind of sweet poison to it though. The noises of those engaged in pleasure are almost stimulating. I'd wager you've never seen anything or anyone fuck in your life, little Saint. Do you feel an ache down here?" his tattooed hand slid around her waist to settle beneath her navel. Yang drank in the clean scent at her neck, feeling Liliana's breathing hitch. A fluttering heartbeat picked up like a nervous hummingbird, adrenaline pumping. Yang could feel the change overcoming her, arousal coaxing awake. Even her scent changed. Delicious.

"Is it building, tightening like a knot? Heh, that's only natural. Your walls are clenching around nothing because they seek to be filled. You want what Elena is feeling right now. A nice cock between your legs, pushing inside," fingers crept down between her thighs, claws catching on the material of her thin gown. "Give in to it. Touch yourself and sate the hunger. No one needs to know…" he chuckled, anticipating victory. This hadn't been difficult in the least. How boring. 

A cold hand grasped his wrist. 

Yang jolted. Saint Liliana twisted in his grip, eyes finding his own in the dark. 

"Who are you?" she breathed. "W-what… are you?" 

His face became blank with shock. She could see him? Hear him? 

Liliana quickly dropped his wrist when the sound of a door opening on the furthermost side of the hallway became apparent. She quickly forgot about him in favour of rushing forward, lowering her voice at the couple.

"Please stop!"

Elena jerked and pushed Leo away slightly. "S-saint Lili?!" 

Lili averted her gaze from their state of undress. "You'll be discovered if you continue!"

With that, she hurried down the hallway to intercept the priest that had entered, chatting quietly to him and fabricating a story about misplacing her old prayer book. The priest dutifully offered to look for it, not even arching a brow at the late hour. Elena and Leo took the opportunity to part ways, giving each other one last look before the boy was forced to slip away into the night, adjusting his clothes. 

Yang watched the whole thing with a dazed expression. No mortal had ever seen him without permission before. Never. In fact, he was certain it was pretty much unheard of. 

The interest he’d been harbouring before tripled, sharpening. His gaze zeroed in on his new prey. He wanted to know how she’d done it. He wanted to pry the woman apart until he understood every fragment and became bored with inspecting her shattered remains. 

----

Saint Liliana was soon chaperoned back to her room. She retired for the night with a convincing smile to the priest, and unlike before, Yang was able to enter her chambers. He peeled away from the shadows and stretched out in her bed while her back was turned, delighting in her startled gasp when she finally faced him. 

“W-why are you here?!” she put a hand over her heart, fumbling with a rosary and snatching it up as if it might protect her. 

“So that wasn’t a fluke, you can still see me,” sharp teeth flashed. “This will prove more entertaining than first imagined.”

His long, thin tail flicked out, whip-like and black with a pointed end resembling a soft arrowhead. No doubt it only served to disturb her, as she couldn’t stop staring at his dark horns that curled out from his skull like a ram.

Liliana inched closer to the door, eyeing it. “Please leave. I will recite the holy words of the bible to drive you out if need be- but I’d rather not resort to that.”

He snorted. “Oh please, anything but that drivel.” 

Before she could even blink- they were close- close enough for her to count his eyelashes and glimpse the tattoos on his skin as he brought a clawed hand up. Lili flinched but held still, breath whooshing in and out of her lungs quicker and quicker. 

“So you’re Saint Liliana,” black claws skimmed the delicate skin of her jaw in a light scrape. “How was such a title bestowed upon you?”

“I-I’m not quite a Saint yet. I’m still undergoing the selection process,” her knuckles turned milky white from the force of her grip on the rosary. 

He arched a brow and tipped his head to one side. If she was trying to dissuade his interest, it wasn’t working. “That so? Everyone already reveres you as one.”

Liliana pressed herself harder against the wall, shrinking away from his touch as much as humanly possible. “I'd like to refocus on the fact that I’m currently conversing with a- a demon, sir. How and why are you here?”

“I go where I please. The house of God is no exception. As for the why…” Yang trailed off, lips pulling back from his teeth to bare them at her in a feral grin “I got curious and decided to see what all the fuss was about. Many demons have been worked up into a frenzy after catching your scent. I figured you had to be something interesting."

She swallowed, pulse jumping when he leaned ever closer, bringing his nose to her hair. "Then your information was poor. I'm perfectly ordinary and I have nothing of note to offer you, Devil spawn." 

"Flattery will get you nowhere. You're mistaken though- there's plenty to gain from a woman like you,” Yang inhaled, taking in her fresh flowery scent. Ahh...no good. If he kept inhaling, he'd work up an appetite and ruin her too quickly.

"That's all you are, underneath your veil and fine robes. You're flesh and blood," he purred. "The animal urge to eat and drink is there- so what makes you exempt from pleasures of the flesh?" 

"T-that's what you're after? That's the reason you influenced Elena and Leo to act like that way?" 

"You think I had something to do with their tryst?" He blinked innocently. "Their passions simply overflowed." 

Liliana glared. "I know Elena- she'd never have given up her chastity like that. As for you wanting my- my body…I would rather bite my own tongue off and die than become your whore." 

His hand came to rest on her abdomen. He exerted a small amount of pressure, gliding his touch downward and heating his palm. The Saint-in-training wavered, he could see it. She shuddered slightly, registering the pleasure his touch elicited. 

"Heh, next time you wish to speak so bravely, make sure you stop trembling first. It dampens the believability of your words,” he chuckled.

Lili stiffened as though broken from a dream. She pushed his tattooed wrist aside, hurrying to her bedroom door. “Sister Sophia!” she shouted, throwing it open. The look she shot him over her shoulder was a touch victorious- hurried footsteps immediately answering her call.

Yang rolled his eyes. “Boring,” he drawled.

By the time Sister Sophia arrived, he was long gone. 

-------

He observed her through the windows in confessionals, haunting her footsteps through prayer and following when she wandered outside into the garden. 

She had very little in the way of freedom. Every morning she was washed by five attendants, who would also dress and brush her hair, fixing some strands back with beads that clinked noisily together. They constantly shadowed her every move like tittering nannies, not allowing for a moment's peace until the sun sank from the sky and night set in once more. Every fibre of Saint Liliana's day was dedicated to serving others in one way or another; listening to confessions or doing missionary work.

His predatory nature noticed how tired she seemed. Liliana tried hard to keep her modest, calm mask in place. She never complained and accepted everything with an air of gentle grace. Only he picked up on her drained energy and lines etched beneath her eyes.

"You're here again, Asmodeus?" 

He found her that night sitting on her stone window-ledge, knees tucked up as she read a book. How sickeningly sweet, he thought. She looked like a lonely princess in a tower.

"Such colourful names you have for me, Saint. Wrong again, though. You won't find my name in any of your clean little books,” he drew closer, exhaling trailing smoke and lowering his pipe. “Call me Yang, if you want. I don't really care." 

"What I want is for you to leave me alone." 

“Boring. Can’t you say anything else?”

Colour finally blossomed in her cheeks. Good. He preferred that look on her rather than that placid, virginal mask. “I-I’m not here to entertain you!”

“Saint Liliana, is everything alright?”

The knocking outside her door startled them both. Yang wouldn’t claim he’d been paying attention to her but her gaggle of sisters seemed more protective than usual. 

“Y-yes, I’m fine- thank you. Please don’t worry,” Lili called, putting her book aside.

Yang arched a brow. She wasn’t chasing him out this time by crying for help? Maybe he’d been right and she was bored out of her skull. “I’ve watched you these past few days and seen how you navigate around the invisible pentacle of your prison,” he drew closer, leaning against the stone wall beside her and leaning down slightly. Red hair spilt off his shoulders to hang between them like a bloody curtain. “You yearn for more- I can smell it on you.”

Lili searched his gaze, bewildered. There was something underneath it though, something she didn’t care to admit to. She stood, as if seeking to brush him off again. “I shouldn’t even be speaking with you. I know demons to be as unkind as a plague on the people,” green eyes narrowed. “Make your offer, demon.”

Yang watched her in silence, tilting his head. 

She gestured to the world laying outside her window. “You’re going to offer me escape if I surrender my flesh to you, is that it? W-well it’s not going to happen,” Lili said firmly. “I’ve been raised for this my whole life. I’ve committed the decorum of a living Saint to memory. Above all else- my chastity is paramount. Why would I give you the one thing that Sainthood requires?”

He wrapped smirking lips around the edge of his kiseru, taking a languid drag. “Perhaps because you don’t truly want it?”

“That’s ridiculous.”

The demon drifted closer but Lili seemed determined to keep her distance, inching back whenever he advanced. “Is it? I wouldn’t be able to speak with you right now if you’d closed your heart to temptation. It’s still there, isn't it?” he crooned, exhaling a mist of smoky, spicy air. “The image of your friend and Leo squirming, clawing at each other like beasts. You dreamed of it last night and you’ll dream of it again.”

It was all too easy to appear closer- shoving her down on her bed and pinning the Saint beneath him. Clawed hands anchored flailing wrists to the sheets, his thin leathery tail wrapping around her thigh and spreading it slightly, allowing their lower halves to nestle even closer. She felt good beneath him. Just as good as any other woman. Her curves were always hidden by her loose, flowy robes but he could feel every inch of her now, her nightgown positively sinful. 

Lili fell still, panting slightly. He could feel her heartbeat hammering.

“And what of you?” she whispered.

Yang blinked, coming back to himself. “Mn?”

Tears collected in her eyes. “You just go around corrupting people for the fun of it?”

“Yes.”

“W-why?”

No one had ever thought to ask before. He found he didn’t have a good answer and lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “It’s entertaining, and I enjoy it.”

The woman was frightened, as she was wise to be- but as ever…Lili proved to be a little strange. She was paying attention, listening to every word and looking him in the eye. It almost encouraged him to keep speaking. Yang couldn’t claim to have felt that way before. Perhaps he just wanted to shock her with how perverse his words could be.

“I enjoy the deep darkness that lurks deep inside everyone- if you just have the patience to peel it back- it’s so very entertaining to witness. I enjoy women and sex, indulging in too much food, and engaging in brutal violence. All of it feels good, so why deny it?”

“Because it’s empty. Pleasure is devoid of meaning if you overindulge.”

How intriguing- she wasn’t dismissing pleasure as outright evil. Yang’s tail flicked lazily, tightening around her thigh. Black horns gleamed in the candlelight as he craned his neck down and pressed his lips to the pulse fluttering in her neck. He felt rather than saw Lili gasp against him.

“You won’t curse me and call my actions inherently wrong?” he muttered.

Lili lay still, gathering her bearings. Pretty nails curled into his powerful hands, willing him to release her despite their difference in strength. “I think earthly pleasures are normal to want, human even. Denying yourself altogether is unrealistic,” she murmured in a soft voice, as if confessing something she wasn’t supposed to. “However, gorging yourself on pleasure simply makes it a frivolous waste. You don’t appreciate any of it.”

Yang fell quiet. He pulled his lips away from her delicate flesh, skimming his nose down the column of her throat. Tiger-like eyes took in her everything. She wasn’t a bad sight to behold- chest softly heaving, cheeks flushed and lips parted enticingly. “I didn’t expect a Saint to speak like that to me…” he admitted. 

She was speaking almost realistically. The humour in chatting to zealous religious figures lay in their ridiculously rigid and outlandish worldviews. He supposed he should have suspected something was amiss with her the second she’d shielded Elena and kept her loss of virginity a secret from the rest of the church. 

Lili stared up at him, watchful, waiting. Yang felt something inside him stir. 

“I thought it was cold- Lili, you should close your window. You’ll catch your death of cold!”

The door swung open and Sister Sophia entered without so much as knocking. She bustled about, not sparring Yang a glance as he straddled Lili upon her bed. His lips tugged downwards. Perhaps he should kill the old wretch. 

Lili made a soft noise beneath him, sighing. Only that gentle sound saved Sophia’s life that night. 

“It’s hard to believe the selection process is drawing near, and so swiftly too,” Sister Sophia was muttering, reaching up to pull the old window shut. “Soon you’ll become a living Saint- and I won’t be able to chastise you like this anymore.”

Liliana’s gaze became saddened, and she shifted, sitting up. Yang stilled, somewhat taken aback when she walked straight through him to go comfort her minder. He could only watch, reduced to a silent witness and loathing it for the first time. 

-----------

“What must you do to become a living Saint?”

Liliana sighed, not bothering to turn her head and acknowledge his presence. She was in the greenhouse today, her minders lingering outside but giving them at least some privacy. She tended to a few of the roses with damaged stems, carefully splinting them with a kindness he could not understand. “I must recite holy scriptures. After that, my body will be bathed and examined for imperfections- and I will be locked within a holy tomb for three days and nights without food and minimal water. Lastly, I must successfully select the previous Key Maiden’s belongings out of a cluster of objects. If that happens, I will be cleansed of impurities…” her voice wavered before she soldiered on. “I’ll be modified and placed in the holy tower to live out my days in solitude, with the exception being Sundays; when I will hear out the prayers of believers. It will be forbidden for me to ever speak again.”

“Hell on earth,” Yang gave a wry snort, wrapping his claws around a stem to gently stroke the petals. Lili straightened to watch as a black tipped talon curved down, threatening to split the soft, yielding flora with the slightest pressure. He did not mar it however; stroking the bud lightly. Her eyes lingered longer than they should have.

“What do you mean by modified?” 

Broken from her trance, Lili looked up and met his curious gaze. She swallowed, a heaviness seeming to settle on her shoulders. “My body will be altered to ensure I cannot bear children or have intercourse.”

“I see. So you’ll be mutilated,” he leaned back against the windows of the stuffy greenhouse, staring at the caged plants and flowers before them. Humans were so bizarre. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He could see it. Her own words quietly disturbed her. This was it. This was the thing he’d been biding his time waiting for. A chink in her armour. 

Lili bowed her head. “I was raised at a humble church alongside other orphans before I was put forward for this position. If I drop out of this, another girl would just be selected. If I can spare them that fate…it's better for me to have to go through this than them.”

“Sickening,” he sneered, exposing sharp teeth. The weight of his displeasure seeped into the very air, sucking out the sunlight and replacing it with something cold. “So you’ll martyr yourself for them?” 

Lili jolted, the scent of copper catching his nose soon after. Yang was beside her in an instant, crouching- taking her by the wrist and pulling her frozen, bleeding finger away from the thorn and into the hot cavern of his mouth. Lili hesitated, breath stalling.

“Maybe I’ll take you by force,” his eyes captured hers, unwavering. “Have you ever stopped to consider that?”

She searched his face. Whatever she saw had her shaking her head and smiling grimly, which somewhat troubled Yang. “You won’t. For some reason, you want me to agree to it.”

"It would be preferable, if only because it would prove to you that yielding to temptation can be far more rewarding than self-imposed starvation.” Yang pulled his lips away from the wound, instead pressing his clawed thumb against it. Her wince was the only enjoyable thing he’d seen all day. He exerted just a little more pressure. “There’s fun to be had, flavours to be tasted, and a life left to live…yet you content yourself with the bland taste of Sacramental crumbs.”

Slit pupils searched her rounded human ones, seeking, prying for anything- one hiccup, just one to prey upon. 

Liliana’s lips thinned, straightening her back. 

A complicated mix of frustration and pride welled up inside him at that. She was so difficult. So tired yet quietly resolute. It wet his appetite something awful. His cock stirred, but he couldn't claim the hunger for her to be purely lust.

“I will leave you now, Saint Liliana,” he uttered.

A stab of surprise and alarm entered her gaze. Yang inwardly smirked. Well, well…was that disappointment he sensed?

Make that two enjoyable things he'd seen today. “But not indefinitely. We’ll meet again. On that day, you’ll find pleasure isn’t nearly so agonizing as a pointless life filled with boring silence.”

Lili smiled a brittle smile and touched his wrist as if parting from an old friend. She didn’t hate him despite his jeers, his constant shadowing of her footsteps and late-night torments. The thought was odd, as was her surreal sense of calm. She’d resigned herself to her fate completely. “I suppose it’s only natural I should see you again. You’re like a personification of my doubts.”

He sneered. “I’m not nearly anything so trivial.”

He captured her chin in hand, running a sharp thumb over her jaw and comparing it to petals. “Pressed flowers last hundreds of years on herbarium sheets, Lili. At a price: the flowers are flattened. Bled dry. Hidden away in a thick volume to sit on a lonely shelf instead of basking in the sunlight where they belong.”

He kept talking lowly, as if willing her to envision his words and succumb to suggestion. His pointed claw skimmed over kissable lips. “Personally, I’ve always preferred the flowers that bloom brightly- even if it's just once- compared with those unnaturally preserved.”

Liliana kept still in his hold. “Are you comparing me with flowers now, Yang? That’s surprisingly romantic of you.”

He blinked, and smiled cruelly. “I could call you the prettiest flower here, Lili- if you’d like.”

“I’m not in the mood to be fooled by you,” she sighed, a strange fondness in her eye. Yang didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand a lot about this particular human. What he did know: was that it would be a monumental bore if this woman were to be silenced forevermore.

------------

The fateful day of the ceremony finally arrived. Much like the day Lili could remember seeing a demon for the very first time- a stifling humidity choked the air. In this somnolent summer haze, Lili walked through the hushed town of Burlone, head bowed. A procession of key church figures and followers alike stretched out as far as the eye could see, guiding her. A crowd had formed, town bystanders occasionally throwing white flowers at her feet. Lili could sense Elena at her side, and Sister Sophia’s guiding presence at her back. She wasn’t alone. No…she was surrounded by so many people.

Liliana clasped her hands tighter, silently screaming. In that moment, under a sheer veil and the hot merciless sun beating down upon her, blazing the world behind her veil pure stark white- she felt the weight of all who had come before- and all the Key Maidens who would come after. Their ghosts remained with her long after she was shown into the underground tomb, her hands bound behind her back, the stone door pulled back into place, but not before she heard Sister Sophia mutter;

"By the Grace of God, let this child be reborn through this humble taste of martyrdom and guide us once more when she awakens as a living Saint, Amen."

She was then left in complete and utter silence and darkness. No sunlight or food. Only a small amount of water could be heard trickling down from the ceiling. She would have to fall to her knees and drink like an animal to slick any thirst. Lili swallowed thickly and fought not to slump into despair. It was cool within the tomb, not a sound stirring from outside. 

Many things passed through her weary mind as she lay in that lonely place meant for the dead. Guilt, for her heart not being fully committed to Sainthood. Fear, worry, and other such things.

One thing Lili didn’t expect to feel was regret. The image of a marked body slinking through the shadows of her room like a stalking tiger prowling through the jungle remained burned into the backs of her eyes. He kept her company during those long, passing hours. She could visualise him so clearly, her Devil. Hear him, smell him-

Lili’s nostrils flared, picking up a hint of spice. She sucked in the scent, coughing when it choked her lungs. Raising herself up groggily from the floor, Lili shifted as best she could considering her bound arms, gasping at the sight before her.

Instead of unrelenting darkness, a warm orange glow commanded the tomb. Red lanterns with golden tassels gently swayed alongside extravagant lace curtains. They parted to reveal what looked like a shrine. Sat upon a gilded chair within that warm, hazy vision, slightly obscured by the lazy trails of smoke from his signature kiseru; Yang awaited her. One leg was slung over the other, his expression more unreadable than ever before, deceptively apathetic. 

Lili dragged herself over on her knees, gazing at his decadent splendour. 

You came, she thought, torn between relief and frustration. More than anything else- the hunger, the thirst, the lack of sunlight- he was the test she feared most. Her life would’ve been so much easier if he’d never tempted her in the first place. 

Yang didn’t say anything for a moment, studying her as she did him. Finally, thin lips parted, removing the pipe from his mouth.

“Isn’t it ironic?” a tattooed hand drew forward. Ignoring her flinch, he bent down and took hold of her chin. “You’re kneeling in front of me as you do for your so-called God," he purred, silky words tinged with a patronising smile. “Why don’t you pray to me too while you’re at it, hm?”

Lili trembled in his hold. "Why are you here?" She breathed. Something in his eyes danced, sending a shot of heat down her spine. “I won’t give in to you. You being here makes no difference.”

Yang closed his lips over the end of his pipe, taking a hearty drag. Lili flinched as he exhaled, sending a flurry of smoke into her face. “The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in people who are trustworthy’ is that not a quote from your tiresome little book?”

He could likely see her thought process quite clearly. He was the Devil offering food and drink while she fasted. A lantern to guide her in darkness. A body to warm her cold flesh. She’d do everything in her power to resist him. 

Perhaps he’d already won the second she’d slipped up that one summer night and allowed the fantasy of his head between her thighs to enter her mind. A sin, a secret she’d carried and confessed to no one, but remained buried in her heart.

Pure they called her. Was she really?

Lili’s gaze wavered, her knees aching from the punishing stone. 

Yang clicked his tongue. “Why continue this farce?”

“I told you, it’s so that no one else need do this.”

“You martyr yourself for strangers. What’s more, you don’t seem to understand the triviality of your sacrifice, Liliana.” He released her to study his pipe with an air of boredom. “Haven’t you ever wondered why Key Maidens are demanded so regularly? The last one to be called up was just last year. I had some brats do some snooping for me, you see. The last woman was-”

“Chole,” Lili straightened with a frown. “What does she have to do with this?”

“Everything~ you see, your church employing the grim tradition of genital mutilation can result in…sickness. The wound becomes infected. It happened to your precious Chole.”

Lili sat back on her heels. Disbelief settled over her shoulders. No, it couldn’t be true…

“T-they said she was sick but-”

“It was no common cold. She was killed by the very ones who claimed to worship her," Yang stated without a hint of sympathy. He leaned forward soundlessly from his seat, reaching out to cup her cheek in his palm, petting it gently as if she were a beast he’d tamed. His skin was a shock of warmth against her cool flesh. It cried out for more. His claws felt like smouldering knives hovering inches from her skin. “There is another form of worship you are yet to acquaint yourself with, Liliana,” he purred, fingers sliding into her hair. He curled buttery blonde strands around his knuckles, bringing them to his lips in the mockery of a princely kiss. 

“Please…stop,” she begged softly. “Sister Sophia would have told me about Chole. I’m sure- I’m sure it was unrelated.”

Yang’s expression became eerily blank. She got the feeling he was becoming unimpressed. “You know why I’m here,” he said evenly. “Do you expect me to behave like a gentleman?”

“No,” her eyes never wavered despite the need and despair battling inside. “I just- the others…”

He chuckled and sat back in his chair, picking up a goblet and taking a hearty drink. Lili watched, swallowing against the dryness of her mouth. “So if you didn’t have to worry about others becoming Key Maidens as a consequence of you dropping out, you’d accept me inside you?” Yang smiled over the rim of his cup, the golden hue of his eyes dancing. It was a smile of victory. They both knew it. When his hand travelled down her throat, she didn’t resist. “Your soul has grown sick with longing after denying yourself so long. It hungers. It festers...but you’ll never ask me to touch you of your own volition, will you?” He sighed, a grin slowly curling his mouth into a manic smile. “Oh well. I’ll happily take whatever I want either way,” he took another drink, knocking it back.

“Yang-”

Hard lips crashed to hers, muffling the soft murmur of his name. Liquid flooded her mouth, and Lili squeaked with outrage. Firm hands clamped onto her cheeks, preventing escape. She had no choice but to gulp it down, feeling Yang’s tongue push it inside. She ripped her mouth free the moment he let go, coughing.

“There. Was that so terrible?”

“I hate you,” Lili hissed, feeling the alcohol drip down her chin, the rest flowing down to warm her stomach with a pleasant haze.

“You can’t lie to a liar, Liliana. If you’re going to try- do a more convincing job of it,” Yang leaned back, only to draw his knee up- pressing a foot against her stomach. “We can make this as painful or as pleasurable as you wish. What shall it be?”

Liliana glared, chest heaving. It seemed to amuse him to no end. 

“I suppose as a martyr, you’ll choose pain every time,” he mused, letting out a sigh and studying the cave ceiling impassively.

Lili closed her eyes briefly. She thought about her people, about Chole, about Sister Sophia and the worshippers. She remembered watching Chole be sealed away in late December when the air chilled their bones- the fear on her face, the resignation. How every moment after, she and the other prospective Key Maidens had walked with misery- until she'd been selected as the next lamb in line for the slaughter. As she remembered these things, Lili came to a very sad, and simple thought.

It would never end. Even if Yang didn't take her body today, it wouldn't make a difference. Someone else would still be chosen as a Key Maiden, years- or maybe even months down the line, if she got sick and died too like Chole.

“Yang,” she said softly, opening her eyes to look at him. Something in them seemed to catch and hold his interest. “I would like to- to offer you a deal.”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

On trembling legs, Lili shifted and pulled herself up, feeling his foot draw away as she stood. “You may have me: in every way you see fit, if you can guarantee the end of the Key Maiden practice.” Yang opened his mouth to reply, but Lili continued swiftly. “Do so in a way that does not kill anyone, and we have a deal.”

His teeth flashed in the lamplight like the glitter of silvery snakeskin. “My, my…I never predicted when I first saw you that Saint Liliana would ask me, a Devil- to essentially end her very religion.”

If it was what she had to do to keep other women safe from the same fate, Lili didn’t mourn the prospect. “I know it won’t solve everything,” she murmured. “I’m not that naïve. Other ways will probably be invented after this to achieve something similar. I just- I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

Yang gazed at her steadily. His lips parted, eyebrows rising as if surprised. He then grew quiet, and it was the most unnerving silence Lili had ever experienced in his presence.

Suddenly, Lili felt herself being scooped up in something thin and leathery. It swept her up to Yang, dumping her right on his lap- and it was only when it withdrew that Liliana registered it as his tail. Sharp claws were then framing her face, tilting her chin up. Twin pairs of yellow, luminous moons swallowed her whole. If the Key Maiden process would mutilate her body, Lili shuddered to think what those eyes could do to her soul. His nose brushed hers almost affectionately.

“Deal.”

And then firm, punishing lips claimed hers. Lili swallowed her squeak, squeezing her eyes shut. His kisses were hard and fierce. Those lips peeled back for teeth to lunge in, and Liliana squealed as he bit at her mouth, latching onto her bottom lip. It wasn’t kissing in the way she knew it. This was devouring.

Just as Lili thought this would be an awful experience, full of pain and discomfort- Yang parted her lips, pushing his tongue inside. It shouldn’t have felt good. For some reason however, Yang let up his attack on her lips, brushing his tongue against hers with skillful, encouraging brushes. She tasted copper- her own blood. Lili found herself tentatively responding, clumsy and awkward in execution, but Yang’s quiet groan sent a bolt of molten heat down to her core.

“Mn- Lili-” he purred between kisses, tangling a hand in her hair and curling it into a fist. He tugged at the tresses, eliciting a gasp as he plastered their bodies together.

She hadn’t meant to sound quite so breathless. That cruel mouth smirked as it pulled away to start mouthing hungrily at her neck, biting, nipping and kissing as it went, before Yang shamelessly buried his face in her chest and gathered her close.

Lili squealed- hearing a snap as her bonds were slashed- that tail flicking back into the darkness. She held on about his shoulders just to keep upright. The thin, flimsy material of her robe was suddenly gone too- slashed open across her torso by something quickly- his claws perhaps. She could only watch the white material pool around her waist, gasping louder the moment something hot and wet clamped around her breast.

Sharp teeth skimmed and scraped, coaxing the bud of her nipples to harden. He then sucked and flicked at the peaks with his tongue, a foreign pleasure building inside her at the sensation. It made Lili bold enough to hold his crown of red hair, finding the uneven strands feathery soft to the touch. She didn't realise she was keening, arching into his mouth like a taut bowstring- until he gave a muffled chuckle.

"How do you like it, Liliana? Are mortal pleasures worth damning yourself for?"

"N-no. That's not why I did this."

"I'm glad. If you gave in so easily it would be dull. Perhaps we should test how much you enjoy demonic pleasures now."

"What do you mea- agh!"

That infernal tail returned, sliding between their bodies to dip between her thighs beneath the tattered remains on her clothes. Lili twitched and jolted, trying to remain upright as she straddled Yang. It proved difficult when the whip-like curve of the tail brushed and probed at her bare sex, beginning to rub against it.

"Yang…" she growled.

"Hmm?"

"This is- surely inappropriate-"

His lips and teeth glided up to the spot behind her ear, teasing the shell. "Heh, it's just a tail. I could fuck you with far more obscene things if you'd like."

"N-no. It's fine-"

He gave an answering chuckle before grasping her ass, beginning to grind her more insistently against his lap. Lili shuddered, swallowing a moan as the tip of his devilish tail teased and rubbed at her clit while something hard began to nudge between her legs from the folds of Yang’s trousers.

Oh.

Lili met his eye and wet her lips, darting her gaze away and back again. “Can- can I…?”

“Use your words.”

Long had she waited and wondered, imagining the extent of those marks on his hands. “Let me see all of you, too. If I am to be damned for this, we may as well do it properly.”

Yang tilted his head. “Mn? You want to play with me too?”

She couldn’t get any redder. Liliana gave a sigh, “if you must refer to it that way then-“

The smoke Lili assumed was from Yang’s extinguished pipe had continued to linger like a grey shroud, but suddenly it thickened. Lili blinked in surprise. It became hard to see- but she felt rather than saw the material under her hands evaporate into nothingness, leaving only warm bare flesh.

She sucked in a sharp breath when it dissipated, revealing a fully nude Yang beneath her. Sadly, her imagination hadn’t been able to conjure up anything close to the real thing. The tattoos branding his body travelled down the length of both arms, sprawling down one side of his torso and lovingly wrapping around his collarbone. It even continued down his thigh, stopping dangerously close to his-

Green eyes flicked away. She was unable to say anything uniquely quippy, only mumbling a small; “are you so lazy that you need magic to undress you?”

Yang chuckled, stroking his hands down her thighs. Those black claws trailed and bit down, drawing thin lines of blood. His mouth clamped onto her neck the moment she inhaled sharply, as if breathing in her pain and pleasure. That tail picked up from where it left off, teasing at her entrance, but as if bored with it, she felt pressure start to worm its way between the folds of her sex, nudging, inching in.

“Yang!” she exclaimed, digging her own nails into his shoulders.

He didn’t so much as flinch, humming an acknowledgment.

“Yang- you-!”

You can’t, she’d wanted to say. It was cruel, surely, to do this to her. To take her so impersonally as to spear her on his tail.

Liliana’s protests cut off the moment the tail slipped inside her wet folds. She gasped and clenched around it, eyes widening as an unholy noise ripped itself out of her lips. “Hnnnagh!”

It wasn’t anything like the fingers she’d used to pleasure herself with in stolen moments at midnight, nor was it like the pain she imagined a man’s cock would bring. It almost seemed to mould itself into the shape of her cunt, the tip stroking her virginal walls so lovingly she couldn’t help but clench hard around it.

“Do you like it better now?” Yang teased. “Do our devilish delights please the almighty Key Maiden?”

Lili couldn’t help but squirm with gritted teeth, bucking her hips against the leathery length of his tail. She tossed her head back and caught his eye- her own watery with need, rosy lips parted with a few strands of hair clinging to them. “Please,” she panted. “More, Yang…”

She was too lost in need to notice him stiffen beneath her. Teeth were then clamping down on her chest violently just as the thing filling her up undulated and writhed, canting her hips with the strength of it. Liliana cried out and dug her nails into Yang’s back as she held onto him, muffling sobs and sharp, keening noises into his shoulder. She could feel the circle of teeth digging into her chest- no- not her chest- it was branding itself directly over her heart. Another few squirms of the whip-like tail thrusting and licking inside her turned Lili’s mind to mush however- and she no longer cared what Yang did to her body. It thrust up and down, occasionally roving around like a seeking tongue and jostling her hips from side to side.

It was obscene. It was perfect. Evidence of her arousal slid down its black length, glistening in the light.

It wasn’t long before the fire he’d steadily coaxed awake in her veins lit brightly aflame, and Lili stiffened, crying out her rapture into the cave. A taunting echo of it played back to her several times over, damning in its sheer enjoyment.

Lili panted, feeling a dampness cover her body in a light sheen. She felt so hot. Yang’s strong back felt blisteringly warm beneath her hands.

Speaking of…

Coming down from her high, Lili blinked down at her demonic lover. She took in the state of her body with a kind of dazed acknowledgment.

It was no exaggeration to say she was covered in bite marks. Some were already raising with the purplish welts of bruises, others were angry red and slightly bleeding. Yang was busy smearing her crimson blood over the skin of her wrist, pressing his nose to it and inhaling like a man enamoured.

Or obsessed.

Tiger-like eyes slid open, and Lili’s cunt clenched around the slack tail still buried inside her. He wasn’t enamoured or obsessed, no. That would be too mortal. He was looking at her with some unnameable emotion, perhaps only known to demons.

With calm grace, his hand raised, fingers wrapping around her neck easily. “I’m going to take you now,” he said simply. “I did intend to play with you longer, but it’ll have to wait. Your blood is sweeter than a new-born lamb.”

The tail filling her was abruptly ripped free- and Lili cried out from the sudden loss rather than pain. It was replaced at first with bloody fingers touching at her folds, before a hard length pressed up against her.

“I-I-“ Lili quickly grabbed his face, cradling it between her hands and witnessing surprise flash within his golden depths. “You know I haven’t…before, so- so please-“

“You’d beg a demon to go easy on you?”

Lili bit her lip, squeaking when Yang joined her in the action and bit down onto her bottom lip with much more force, soon replacing the sting with the soft brush of his tongue and a lingering suck. “Don’t fret. I think I’m being plenty ‘nice’ already, don’t you? Heh, besides…I think you enjoy my brand of torment more than you can admit,” his tail was raised up to her mouth in offering, still sticky with evidence of her release. Liliana didn’t even question it as he teased it against her lips- her pink tongue poking out to taste herself.

His eyes darkened at the action. “A marvellously fast learner. You’ll do just fine…” he purred, leaning in and joining her in licking the length of his tail- before sealing their mouths together and kissing her hard.

His hips pushed up just as Yang brought hers down, pushing himself inside.

Lili’s cry as he took her maidenhead was muffled as Yang kissed her hungrily. He wrapped an arm more securely around her waist, waiting until he was fully locked inside before he began moving; thrusting up into her from below.

It quickly became overwhelming. Different from his tail certainly, but Lili couldn’t claim to hate it, far from it. She’d expected blood and pain, especially considering his appetite. Unlike everything she’d read and heard about from a few confessions however; this didn’t feel like a ruthless claiming. Yang rocked her hips against his with guiding motions of his hands upon her waist, showing her the rhythm until she was brave enough to move on her own. A surge of power shot through her veins when she watched how she straddled him- took him so well.

Something dark and hungry unfurled in her heart. It made her sink down and take even more of his cock, seeing stars behind her eyes at the feel of it.

When next they kissed: Liliana bit his lips. Yang purred in delight, bouncing her on his lap all the harder until wet noises graced her ears. The kind Elena and Leo had made; harsh, slapping sounds of bodies meeting. Yang shifted the angle and thrust up, hitting new depths inside her that sent Lili careening over the edge once more, screaming her release. The newfound appetite refused to be sated though- and she wound her fingers tight in red-wine hair and was back to bucking needily against him soon enough.

Yang’s eyes widened. A jagged smile split his lips- before he threw his head back. Broken, manic laughter filled the cave. It bounced ceaselessly across the dark cave’s walls in a vicious echo; a never-ending song that bespoke of demonic victory on hallowed ground.

-----

None of church higher-ups could figure out how it had happened; How Liliana had entered the tomb a virgin but left it defiled. She wouldn’t speak a word about it to anyone.

Some in the community thought this was a divine blessing- that she’d been visited by a holy figure. Most branded her a deceitful whore that had thoughtlessly given her virginity away to a stranger. Either way, she was stripped of her rights to enter Sainthood and another woman was selected to take up the task of becoming the next ‘Key Maiden.’

As for what became of Liliana, she returned to her humble origins of Arca’s small local church, facing the disappointed faces of her peers and mother figure, Sister Sophia. A pregnant Elena returned with her, their reputations similarly stained. 

Weeks passed with little in the way of change, until the last day of summer. The moon loomed high and watchful that clear, still night. Rumour had it the next Key Maiden's test date was looming close on the horizon.

Lili startled awake, feeling arms supporting her weight. She was moving. 

Green eyes snapped up to the demon carrying her. “Y-yang,” she rasped, shifting in his arms. Tears stung her gaze. She hadn’t seen him since the tomb, and had assumed he’d discarded her after having his ‘fun.’

His obsidian horns caught the light of the moon, gleaming with a smooth shine. It was then Liliana realised they were outside on the church grounds, grass crunching softly beneath his feet as they passed the graveyard's tombstones. 

“Why are you crying? Is the sight of me so distressing?” he smiled down at her. 

Golden eyes looked just a little kinder right then, softer. Or perhaps it was simply the tears blurring her vision that made him appear so. 

Liliana buried her face in his chest, beating her fist against his shoulder. She shuddered, eventually wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging tight. “Damn you,” she whispered, choking on a sob. “You ruined me.”

“I liberated you. Have a little gratitude.”

“W-where are you taking me?”

“It’s boring not having you close by to torment, and I refuse to scuttle around a drafty church for the rest of your years. Don’t fret…where we’re going, you won’t have to worry about being ‘tainted’ or ‘ruined.’ It’ll become the norm.”

A fissure cracked open in the earth, steam hissing out. The green grass was scorched charcoal black as a large opening was created- the huge, yawning chasm of void-like darkness welcoming him home. Liliana's eyes widened, looking at the newly opened passageway that led down, down down into the depths of the earth...

“Will you not try to run?”

The thing she’d been raised for had been ruined. She had nothing else. Living for herself wasn’t a concept Lili had ever entertained- scarcely allowed to.

But this- experiencing pleasure in his arms? That was something she could do. It was selfish, indulgent and mindless, yet she'd never felt more at peace.

“It would be the wisest thing to do,” she murmured. Only…I can’t seem to get my legs to obey. 

Her fingers curled into his clothing, betraying her.

Yang noticed, lips twitching. The yellow moon looming behind his head almost seemed to give his horns a halo-like gleam. His fingers tangled in her hair and tugged, bringing their lips together in a claiming kiss.

“Lili!”

She jolted in his arms and twisted to look over his shoulder, glimpsing Elena further away in her nightgown, cradling her new-born in her arms as she ran toward them.

Liliana opened her mouth to say something, but Yang’s stride didn’t falter, and he continued carrying her into the jaws of Hell, shadows falling over them. Before she was out of sight completely, Lili shot her what she hoped was a small, reassuring smile.

The lip of the earth slammed shut the moment they were swallowed inside the cavern, sealing Liliana away from the mortal plane. It didn’t matter how much Elena screamed and shouted for help, none would be able to save the former Saint that had surrendered herself to the whims of a Devil. 

------------

In the weeks that followed, the cathedral and holy tower that had been erected to honour the Key Maiden figures became the victims of a sudden earthquake; toppling as if they were constructed by little more than building blocks. This perhaps would not be so strange; except the church leader's minds seemed to be compromised overnight.

They turned their attentions away from Key Maiden worship, abandoning it and leaving the practice to fade into obscurity, only mentioned in forgotten books of worship and old paintings. The people's faith latched onto something else, wanting, needing a figure of comfort to stave away the Devils.

End

[eirianerisdar]

What was your favorite scene to write in Half Alive?

It's got to be a toss-up between Neytiri's grief reaction in chapter 4, and the Trial of Adoption in chapter 5.

My twin (who is also my beta) and I had discussed in the build up of Spider's illness as to what trigger would make him finally give up hope that thee Sully family might accept him as theirs. We discussed many options as far back as during the writing of chapter 2, when the main focus was still Spider and his hunger; we discussed anything from Tonowari being the one to actually find Spider coughing up blood to Spider's inital ptsd flashback on seeing Neytiri be during the night after Neteyam's funeral, if he woke up in the middle of the night and she was staring at him.

I brought up the idea for the final version somewhere in the middle of writing chapter 3. Neytiri feels emotions deeply; they latch deeply to her and do not easily release her. My twin and I both thought that the atypical grief reaction would be something that occurred naturally for her - not something that was anyone's fault, but simply that Spider and Neytiri are in the unfortunate position of being each other's triggers for trauma-related memories. Neytiri looks at Spider and sees the demon that took so much of her family and her home from her; Spider looks at her and sees the bloodthirsty warrior who cut through men like leaves and cut Spider's chest in defense of her daughter. It was the culmination of their fear of each other that made their determination later in the fic to decide to become mother and son so much more poignant. Love isn't about deserving or simply feeling. Love is a conscious choice. I loved writing this section because it allowed the contrast of the first and second halves of the fic to better reflect that choice.

As for the Trial of Adoption, I'd always planned for Tonowari to confront Jake about Spider sooner or later in the fic. My twin and I both agreed that in a culture that loves their children and has ceremonies dedicated to them and Eywa, there would be a set trial for suspected unfit parents.

My favourite thing about writing this section is that I've always loved the trope of sworn brothers whose paths deviate because of sworn duty. Tonowari functions as somewhat of an older brother to Jake in many ways; they both have experience as Olo'eyktan, and both have similarly aged children. But Tonowari knew as he waited for Jake up on that cliff that if Jake failed the trial, Jake would have a choice. He could agree to give up Spider, and Tonowari would claim him as was his duty and right; but if Jake failed the trial and refused to give up Spider, Tonowari would have to do his level best to kill him.

The most beautiful thing about writing that whole section is that Tonowari makes every choice out of love. Love for his brother, love for this child of the Sky People he has known for mere days. He gives Jake the benefit of the doubt. He asks questions carefully before he even proceeds to the Trial of Adoption. And even when he knows beyond a doubt Spider had been neglected and the trial was unavoidable he still treats Jake as an equal, with compassion, no matter Tonowari's own fury. He would have killed Jake out of love, too, if duty had demanded it. He knew this. Jake knew this.

I love writing conversations that start off lighthearted and grow and grow in unease or fury until suddenly the reader has the horrified realisation that this where the scene was headed all along. It's like standing on a train and hearing the sound of the wheels on the tracks sound increasingly off until you realise the train will derail in seconds and there is nothing you can do except hold on.

I've done a similar scene before in a Star Wars oneshot called With Questions Like These, where Obi-Wan's slow deterioration from veiled control to shattered glass mirrors the slow building of Tonowari's fury in the scene above.

[outpost51]

— WIP Intro: The Arsonist Chronicles (18+)

It was a smut oneshot. That’s it. That’s all it was supposed to be. Now look at it. I took a perfectly good short story and gave it:

🔥 complex goddesses and monarchs with god complexes

🔥 political tension between paranormal communities

🔥 dragons

🔥 werewolf rae dunn mom and her girlfriend, the president of the hoa

🔥 ✨ smut ✨ but like, with that good banter

🔥 whatever the hell tom smith is

🔥 a war brewing on either side of the veil, centuries in the making

🔥 anxiety

Oops!

More info, taglist, and planned books below the cut!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

**all titles subject to change as the series progresses

Book I || The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

A werewolf mom. An undead sister. And a really horny (literally) paramour.

After unwittingly plunging herself into the world of the supernatural, Dillon Monroe just wants to live as normal of a life as she can. However, when she learns her sister's resurrection has an expiration date, she has to once more throw herself headfirst into the deep end and unlock her latent abilities to save her. Her solution? Summoning a demon out of an old book provided by her friend’s sketchy cousin. Surely nothing can go wrong with that... right?

Read on AO3 || Wattpad (coming soon) || Tumblr (coming soon)

WIP Page || Intro || Tags: the arsonist chronicles, unlikely adventures, arsonist chronicles ocs

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Book II || The Inevitable Crumble of Cookies and Fortresses

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Book III || The Differing Viscosity of Blood and Water

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Book IV || The Slippery Slope of Duty and Sacrifice

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Book V || The Intrinsic Value of Empathy and Existence

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Book VI || The False Equivalence of Want and Greed

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Taglist: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @writernopal @tabswrites @starknstarwars @asher-orion-writes

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, inbox, or HERE!

[cilil]

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @edensrose. Love you dear����

⋆ ｡･☾ Drabble ⋆ ｡･✩

A Silent Promise

Of course he knew. He always does.

Pairing: Manwë/Námo | Calamórë

Prompt: "we'll meet again" kisses (no. 16 of this lovely post)

Synopsis: Before Dagor Dagorath, Manwë and Námo share a quiet moment together

Featuring: Fluff & comfort

Short oneshot (~700 words)

It's the end and Manwë knows it. Eru remains silent, yet when he listens to the quiet song of his winds, he can hear the final chords of the Ainulindalë, the ancient symphony he and his kin sang so long ago. An eternity almost, though perhaps the weight of many ages merely distorts his perception. 

The Elder King rises from his throne as if responding to a silent, imperceptible call and walks through the halls of his palace until he reaches one of its many balconies where he shifts into his other accustomed form, a great white eagle, and takes to the skies with his mighty wings. His fellow Valar and the Maiar, at least the chiefs among them, know what to do, he reassures himself. Manwë knows that the others will need him there as well, but before he can join them there's something he needs to do, so instead of the fields of Valinor he hurries to the Halls of Mandos. 

He can sense Námo even before his keen eyes spot a lonely dark figure on top of a cliff, looking up to the sky as if he's been expecting his arrival. 

Of course he knew. He always does.

Manwë lands close to the silently waiting Vala and shifts once again before approaching him. Námo's fána is covered by black robes and he has his hands folded in front of him, though one thing is different about his usual appearance–his veil is gone, no longer obscuring the beauty of his features. 

"Námo," Manwë greets him and holds out his hands for him to take, their fingers intertwining. 

As he allows himself a moment to admire the Fëantur, trying to commit every detail to his eternal memory, he notices how tired he seems, almost frail, despite the divine power slumbering within his fëa. It breaks his heart to see his beloved in such a state, and he doesn't need to ask why; he knows Námo must have had many visions of the end, pain and suffering of both the past and the future weighing on his fëa. The master of fate always insisted on battling these demons on his own, refusing to burden anyone else with such knowledge. 

Yet Námo seems calm now, at ease even, and lets his lover draw him into a tender embrace, strong arms and warm wings wrapping around his fána. 

"I know you gave us a prophecy and that you are probably forbidden from telling us any more than you already have," Manwë says and caresses his cheek. "But still, I wonder..." 

He doesn't finish the sentence. They both already know what it is that he's worried about. 

Námo looks up at him and his viridian eyes shine unusually bright, as if the Flame Imperishable that once kindled his fëa flares up inside him, contrasting the almost deathly paleness of his appearance. His gaze says more than a thousand words, and within the storm of emotions threatening to break free after ages of being suppressed Manwë sees something he recognizes all too well. Estel. Hope. The very thing he has always tried to inspire within others.  

"Many ages have I waited for this," Námo says finally, his voice firm and clear despite the state he's in. "For Arda to be healed, so that I no longer have to be afraid of what I see in the future." 

His arms wrap around the king's larger form and once again Manwë's heart aches as he notices how fragile the Fëantur feels in his embrace. Yet his worry soon melts away when he sees a tiny, almost shy smile appearing on his lips before Námo leans in to kiss him–a silent promise that they will find each other again in the Second Music, a last glimpse into the future before they face the end of time.

His lips feel cool against the warmth of the Elder King's skin, and his kiss is soft and longing at the same time. It reminds Manwë of the countless times they watched the sunset together and saw how the night would gently embrace the sky like a veil of peaceful darkness. And as he closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the kiss, he finally feels at ease as well. 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

Our Own World- An Ineffable Lovers Oneshot

Thanks to my friend Sophie for the inspiration!

MAJOR GOOD OMENS 2 SPOILERS

Ao3 Here

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Words: 2414

TL;DR: What if Aziraphale gave into Crowley’s kiss? Could he really just let himself be in love?

“You idiot! We could have been us!”

Aziraphale looked away, unable to look Crowley in the eyes even if they were obscured by glasses. Crowley was, of course, right- if Aziraphale went up to Heaven, he would never get to be himself again. He would never have the time to sit back and read a good book, nor would there be any relevance for books in his life. He would not drink another coffee, no matter what The Metatron promised. He would not get to witness the everyday beauty of humanity that he had become so very fond of. But worst of all, he wouldn’t see Crowley anymore. He’d come to rely on the demon so fiercely that he barely knew what he’d be without Crowley around.

Before he even had a chance to think about how he was going to respond he heard brisk footsteps, and within a few moments he’d been grabbed roughly, a pair of lips forced onto his own. It felt like his heart stopped beating, the world slowing almost to a standstill. What in the world was Crowley doing?

Aziraphale tried to be a ‘good’ angel. A good angel wouldn’t even consider tolerating what Crowley was doing to him. So Aziraphale tried to stop Crowley, to work up the willpower to push the demon away, to do anything to make it all stop, but… he couldn’t. It had been foolish to think that he could- Aziraphale hadn’t been a ‘good’ angel for a very long time. Flailing arms eventually calmed, clinging to the demon, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. Wave after wave of guilt washed over Aziraphale, but in the ebb he found himself in a state of pure euphoria, desperate to hold onto this moment forever. It did eventually have to end though- everything did.

Or did it? Did he really have to go with the Metatron? He certainly felt like he did, but… there was something eerie about that feeling like it was pre-programmed into him. It didn’t take into account anything that he’d ever been through- anything about the person he’d become since becoming Heaven’s representative on Earth. Everything about this place had changed him. He’d stood directly against Heaven multiple times in the past few years, and yet now… now he was so eager to play their games that he’d abandon everything he held dear? For whose sake? It certainly wasn’t his own- Aziraphale was rarely that selfish. He’d thought it was for Crowley’s sake- that he could restore him to his former glory, take away some of the pain- but to see him beg like he had made Aziraphale acutely aware that that pain was Heaven’s doing in the first place. Crowley wasn’t coming with him, so what was the point? Why was he so keen to betray the only person who had always been there when he needed them?

He relished in the kiss for a few moments longer before he was released from it just as roughly as he had been pulled into it. He stared at Crowley for a moment, feeling like he was looking into the eyes of an entirely new person. It was like something had clicked and he finally understood. Even with the veil of Crowley’s shades between them, it felt like the windows to the demon’s soul had finally been opened to him, and what was inside was tragically beautiful. He let out a shuddering sigh, his stomach turning. He wrung his hands, trying to do anything to relieve the stress that seemed to overtake him.

“Okay.” He croaked out.

“Okay what?” Crowley blinked.

“Okay… I’ll stay.” Aziraphale told him.

“You’ll stay…” Crowley muttered.

“I’ll stay.” Aziraphale nodded.

“You’ll stay.” A smirk started to form on Crowley’s face.

A moment passed before Aziraphale’s collar was grabbed again, this time much more gently. Nothing about this time was forced. Lips met willingly, melting into each other. Hands found their places. Aziraphale’s looped around Crowley’s back, pulling him closer, and Crowley’s found their way to Aziraphale’s hair, tangling and pulling gently. There was no haste- no need for an end. There was simply enjoyment, and closeness that filled a void Aziraphale hadn’t known existed within himself. He hadn’t known how incomplete he was until this moment, holding Crowley in his arms and allowing himself the simple luxury of living in that moment. When they did pull away, that didn’t feel forced either. It just happened naturally. Crowley’s hands slipped out of Aziraphale’s hair, trailing down from his shoulders to his arms until he eventually took Aziraphale’s hand in his own.

“Are we really staying though?” Crowley checked, picking up as though the conversation had never stopped. “Or should we go?”

“Go where?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well… Alpha Centauri is lovely this time of year.” Crowley considered. “And it should be at its prime. All the best stars are shining right now.”

“I don’t think I can leave this place, Crowley.” Aziraphale admitted.

“If we don’t they’ll never stop bothering us.” Crowley warned him. “We’ll never get a break- we’re always going to have to fight just for the right to exist.”

“Then the fight will be worth it.” Aziraphale sighed. “Think of this place, Crowley- think of how it’s treated up. Think of every beautiful thing we’ve seen, or been a part of. We fought for this place for a reason- this place has made us into what we are. We would never be standing where we are without the influence that humanity has had in our life. If we leave… We'll miss out on so much, Crowley. We still have so much to learn.”

“You really can’t leave this bookshop, can you Angel?” Crowley teased, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“It’s our home, Crowley.” Aziraphale blushed softly.

“Our home?” Crowley quirked a playful brow.

“Do you not agree?” Aziraphale pointed out. “This is our home, just like the Bentley is our car.”

“It’s not.” Crowley gave him a playful glare.

“Say what you will. The Bentley knows whose it is.” Aziraphale hummed teasingly. “Maybe… maybe we could get a real home, Crowley.”

“I thought you said this was our home.” Crowley raised a brow.

“In spirit, but… perhaps we could buy a house.” Aziraphale blushed lightly. “Make a space of our own. We could decorate it as we please, and fill it with as many plants as we can. We could have a beautiful garden, and a living room with a fireplace and a television and a record player. We’d have a place to get away from work and just be, should we need to. And we’d be able to host such wonderful parties, without having to fuss up all of the books in the shop. The Bentley could even have a garage of its own.”

“It would like that.” Crowley considered.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a home in the countryside?” Aziraphale gushed. “With rolling hills in our own backyard… we could walk less than a minute and be in a field, entirely on our own. Imagine the picnics…”

“I’ve always been more of a city person.” Crowley told him.

“Somewhere in-between, then.” Aziraphale compromised. “Close enough to the city, but with all the luxury of the country.”

“Perhaps…” Crowley smirked softly, evidently amused.

Of course, these thoughts weren’t spontaneous. Like most readers, Aziraphale was a daydreamer, and with all the romance novels he’d read he’d had many a daydream about the life he and his lover could share. He’d pictured it all so vividly, and without fault every time the lover he saw was Crowley. It had all felt so forbidden before, but… now that he knew Crowley felt the same way and he could express those feelings openly, they felt so right. It felt as though every word he spoke brought him closer to living out the fantasies constantly playing out in his head- like he was manifesting it.

“We could have a family Crowley.” Aziraphale mused.

“Could we?” The demon let out a small chuckle.

“We could adopt a dog… and perhaps, should the opportunity arise, a child.” Aziraphale sighed contentedly.

“A child?” Crowley’s face fell.

“Well, yes.” Aziraphale blinked. “We both like children.”

“If you want a child, we’ve got Muriel.” Crowley chuckled nervously. “They’re basically a child, and I’ve a feeling they’re not going anywhere.”

“Muriel isn’t a child, Crowley- they’re just naive.” Aziraphale tutted.

“Then what about a dog? Or a cat?” Crowley suggested. “Or, if you’re really keen, both.”

“Animals are lovely, but… I think we’d make great parents.” Aziraphale sighed. “Don’t you?”

“Angel… we’d watch that child live and die.” Crowley warned.

“Wouldn’t that be beautiful?” Aziraphale hummed.

“The living part, sure.” Crowley pointed out. “The dying part… that’s not going to be fun, angel. And what are we gonna tell them when we go through all his life without changing? Humans aren’t supposed to know about us.”

“Heaven and Hell don’t need to know about the child or what it knows.” Aziraphale countered

“But they will.” Crowley scoffed incredulously.

“Then… then perhaps we can try the growing old thing.” Aziraphale told him. “Together.”

“We don’t do that.” Crowley blinked.

“Our appearance is entirely up to us, Crowley.” Aziraphale considered. “We could age whenever and however we’d like- wouldn’t it be beautiful to watch each other grow?”

“You read too many books, Angel.” Crowley shook his head, chuckling faintly.

“But you have to admit… it all sounds good, doesn’t it?” Aziraphale asked, an urgency in his tone. Crowley wasn’t one for enthusiasm, and he knew that, but… the reactions he was giving still made Aziraphale a little nervous.

“Maybe.” Crowley smirked.

There was a brief beat of silence. Not an uncomfortable silence, though- the kind of silence that spoke. They both needed the moment to process everything that had been said. The spark in Crowley’s eyes told Aziraphale that he was just as excited about the future as he was. He hadn’t expected Crowley to be the one to make the first move. Aziraphale had planned many opportunities to confess his love… and as each came, Aziraphale lost his courage. But finally, finally, he had confirmation that the way he felt was mutual. The fantasies he’d had were mutual.

“I… I think I’m in love with you, Crowley- and I think that I have been for a very, very long time.” Aziraphale admitted.

“Really?” Crowley droned sarcastically. “Truly, Angel, I’d never have guessed.”

“Oh shut up.” Aziraphale flushed red.

“Is that any way to speak to the love of your life?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale was too flustered to come up with a good retort to that. “For the record, I love you too, Angel.”

“You do?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up a little.

“I do.” Crowley assured him, taking Aziraphale’s hands and holding them to his chest. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“I suppose we’re a little stubborn.” Aziraphale considered.

“Understatement of the millennia.” Crowley scoffed before starting to chuckle.

“That, and… well, it’s going to be complicated.” Aziraphale considered. “Heaven and Hell aren’t going to like this. I mean, look at Beelzebub and Gabriel.”

“We don’t really need them, do we?” Crowley sighed softly. “We have each other. We’ve had each other from the beginning of time- from when I watched you ‘lose’ your sword… When I watched you defy Heaven to save Job’s children… When you watched me save Elspeth’s life. We aren’t theirs, Aziraphale, and we haven’t been for a very long time. We’re our own team- and quite frankly I think we’re the best team.”

“So do I.” Aziraphale agreed.

“We’ll work it out, Angel.” Crowley assured him. “It might take some time, but we’ll do it- I promise you that.”

“We’ll work it out…” Aziraphale repeated softly, nodding.

For some reason, he truly believed that they would.

Of course, he would. One can work anything out within their own mind- in their fantasies. But in the end, that’s all that they were- fantasies. Daydreams. Ideas that had raced into Aziraphale’s mind the minute Crowley’s lips had crashed against his own. In reality, the angel had neither held his demon close nor given him much of a kiss back. He’d frozen, arms never ceasing to flail, until he’d been tossed out of the kiss just as quickly as he’d been pulled into it. As he looked into the demon’s eyes, his own filled with tears, and be sputtered in an attempt to say something.

Fantasies were lovely, but they always tended to be just out of reach. The unfortunate thing was that Aziraphale may not have been the best angel, but… he was a good one- even if he didn’t want to be. He wanted so badly to stay here forever- to keep the dream alive- but… Heaven needed him. As long as Heaven needed him, he would be at its beck and call. No matter what he wanted, he would always go where they needed him. Crowley knew that better than anyone else because Crowley knew him better than anyone else.

It was exceptionally cruel, then, that Crowley had done this to him. That he’d known how hard this already was for Aziraphale- how hard Crowley himself had already made this by refusing to accept his offer- and yet still he’d kissed him. This was torture. It wasn’t done for love, as much as it might seem like it was to the unknowing viewer. It was, at best, a last-ditch attempt to stop Aziraphale. If that’s what it was, Crowley had to have known the odds of it working were slim to none… but he’d done it anyway. If it wasn’t… then this was done out of spite. Aziraphale wasn’t sure which hurt him more. He tried to find the words to respond- the words to tear a strip out of Crowley, to let him know what he’d done. But the eye-for-an-eye thing wasn’t in the angel’s nature. All that came out was this:

“I… I forgive you.”

“Don’t bother.” The demon grumbled, walking out of the shop and slamming the door shut.

Aziraphale felt a hand raise to his lips on instinct, tears starting to roll down his face. He had a very distinct feeling that a page was turning. No matter how he tried to push back, it was going to fall, and this chapter would close. This wonderful era of his life was finally at its end, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

[eggtartz]

Can I request a Sukuna x Fem!reader

Sukuna meeting the reader that has the same power as Muzan from kny. IT WOULD BE TOTALLY CRAZY😵

Or you can just do a headcannons or a oneshot whatever you like☕🍵

a/n : AH THANKYOU ANON I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT JJK SO BAD BUT DON'T HAVE ANY IDEAS AA thankyou for requesting and enjoy 🫶🏻

summary : when sukuna thinks he just met someone worth a fight

: reader is a jujutsu tech teacher who takes care of yuji until one day sukuna caused chaos, reader has a similar curse technique as muzan's demon art, sukuna isn't too powerful (yuji estimated has swallowed 2-3 fingers), sukuna is a menace, might have a part two that contains fluff (if requested <3)

- like a switch yuji itadori's behavior changed, you unprepared with what is going to happen

- you were drinking tea with itadori alone so he could improve his curse technique while gojo is on a mission outside japan (also the higher ups insisted that you took care of yuji incase the vessel might switched accidently)

- you abruptly stand from your chair when you didn't hear the sweet voice of the pink haired boy instead there was a deep, raspy voice

- instantly you created a veil to avoid unnecessary sightings but while doing so, sukuna has already injured some customers in the tea shop

- "heh sensei, the brat adored you so much you know. would be a shame if i killed you now eh?" he said mockingly, challenging you

- "you know y/n, in our era woman doesn't need to do this. they stay at home, they serve their husbands. only man are needed for combat" he said once again while scratching his long, black nails on the wall

- "that's where you're wrong ryomen, this isn't your era anymore" you wasted no time and lunged towards him while expanding your limbs, multiplying them

- sukuna also had multiple limbs however he is incapable of releasing his original form so he struggled a lot with your limbs that kept attacking him

- "is that all you got y/n?! just few arms that i can slash over and over again, this is boring!" he said with joy on his face, while you kept attacking him with the remaining energy that you have

- sukuna wasn't unaware, that you had another technique up your sleeve. the technique that allowed you 'control' curses, using them for your advantage

- while sukuna was enjoying his time slashing away your long arms, he wasn't paying attention

- you have released the technique upon the humans in the tea shop that has been turned into curse by sukuna (although this technique is risky as some curses can remain as curses and never change into humans again)

- as sukuna ripped off your last arm, he sharpen his nails and approached you when one of the curses bit his arm

- confused, sukuna ripped his head (only for it to regenerate back because he didn't used any curse energy) soon, more curses were piling on him and you again expanded your multiple arms to trap the king of curses

- "tch is that all you got? you're weaker than that white haired man then, you jujutsu sorcerers think you're all strong and shit"

- "i was never stronger than him to start with. but i know im strong enough to bring itadori back. itadori! itadori come out!" you said while smashing the head with curse energy hoping it would bring yuji back (and bring him back with the injuries too)

- "tch you and the brat would suffer from this, one.. one day"

- "it's an honour for you to target me, now give itadori back" you said softly, almost like talking to a child to be gentle

- sukuna's thought was like huh what, she's a little cute that i noticed. huh no one talked to me ever so gently like her huh?

- he let his guard down and the body psychically changed, itadori was back

- "huh sensei what happene- HUH SENSEI I CAN'T SEE, WHAT'S HAPPENING SENSEI? AH THERE'S SO MANY CURSES SENSEI HELP" the panicking boy exclaimed while blinking his eyes furiously due to the blood trickling down his forehead

- you reversed the curse energy on the curse that changed them into human again and lifted the veil

- you rushed to call ijichi and after 20 minutes or so he arrived to bring you and yuji to the hospital

- while in the car yuji blurted "sensei i don't know if this is a dream of mine or a thought of sukuna's but he thinks you're really pretty"

- ijichi accidentally hit the brakes "AH I'M SORRY" he said (no he would be panicking GOMENASAI! 😭)

- you slowly turned to look at yuji only to see the mouth on his cheek smirking at you. that bastard you thought

- "well what else did he say?"

- "uh he said something about marriage? marrying you i think?"

- "yeah i think i'll pass the offer ryomen"

- "we were bound to be y/n! become mine and i will-" he didn't finished his words as yuji slapped his mouth "sorry sensei, he's already annoying to me. i don't want him annoying you too"

- you smiled softly at itadori, forgetting that sukuna can see you too making him unconsciously blushed

[97ify]

ʬʬ﹕ MEET THE DRiVER .ᐟ

BENJi or JENNA ORTEGA’s REAL GF (CANON) ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⌁ nineteen. he!xe. puerto rican. your typical mean lesbian !

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀˖ ࣪⭑

⠀ ❝ shut the actual fuck up before i raw dog your mom. ❞

personal shit ! ☆

ABOUT JJ ✦ professional milf fucker. graphic design major. aspiring sugar momma. uzui tengen’s doppelgänger (i have so many wives fr). irl ava ayala (100%). miles morales’ actual cousin (real). venom's real life best friend (aside from eddie ofc). certified makima & himeno hater. diagnosed BPD pill popper. eren's biggest bully (so real it's canon). soul’s guardian. denji’s sibling. quanxi’s fifth gf (not clickbait).

MY ACCOUNT ✦ is for hispanic/latines that never see themselves in either oc's or readers, mainly because they're always white and don't have culture. it is also for my tall girls (i'm only 5'6, but tall women are everything) who never get representation in media, aside from the tall girl movie where they weaponized her height until the last 30 mins of that god forsaken film. so if you're one of the two, or even both, then my account is definitely for you love.

my beloveds ! ☆

ANIMANGA(S) ✦ attack on titan. god of high school. jujutsu kaisen. classroom of the elite. soul eater. chainsaw man. blue lock. gangsta. tokyo revengers. haikyuu. demon slayer. death note. hunter x hunter. sailor moon. angels of death.

COMFORT LOSER(S) ✦ takemichi hanegaki. michael afton. yuji itadori. denji hayakawa. suzune horikita. mikasa ackerman. mori jin. black star. meguru bachira. nicolas brown. aran ojiro. suma uzui. misa amane. killua zoldyck. usagi tsukino. isaac foster.

vibin’ things ! ☆

PLAYLIST ✦ bts. piwon. e'last. ateez. txt. le sserafim. new jeans. twice. xdinary heroes. onlyoneof. wonho. jiae. monaleo. megan thee stallion. flo milli. glorilla. kehlani. young m.a. ski mask the slump god. d4vd. kali uchis. joji. mitski. rae sremmurd. bad bunny. daddy yankee. melanie martinez. pierce the veil. zion & lennox. hector & tito. selena. a boogie.

MI FAVORITAS ✦ women. milfs. racing (fast cars). music. drawing. coloring. writing. reading. the color pink. dogs. cats. embracing and getting educated on my culture. kpop. watching kdramas. video games. maladaptive daydreaming. anime. mangas. manhwas. horror movies. slashers. lesbians.

⠀ ✿ 。 ׄ ׅ 𝟶𝟶 ׄ 𓈒 : 𝟶𝟶 ꞌꞋ ۪ ׄ ﹏

mis escribe ! ☆

BASIC STUFF ✦ i always write tall (6'2), indigenous taíno puerto rican oc's for my stories. only time i won't is when a request specifically asks for an unlabeled reader, or a specific type of reader that doesn't correlate with my typical one.

WARNINGS Y DISCLAIMERS ✦ i am obviously lesbian (if you still couldn't tell), so a majority of my writings will be for female characters and/or non-male characters. however, whenever i DO do an x male character book or oneshot, it'll either be a request from a mutual or because it's one of my favs.

mi personalidad ! ☆

MY ATTITUDE ✦ i am very blunt and honest, when it's needed. i try my best not to be sarcastic all the time online cause i am in real life and it's caused too many altercations for my liking, especially since i don't like people. if i sense something is off, i'll tell you. if you did something wrong, i'll tell you, so i expect the same in return. but aside from that, i try my best to be as nice as possible, especially to others with similar interests.

DISORDERS ✦ i have both ADHD & BPD (recently diagnosed with BPD) and i'm still trying to adjust to it, and the medicine. furthermore, i have moments where i "split" which means i won't want to interact, talk, or even do anything. i become a state of wanting nothing to do with anyone; friends, family, no one. so when that does happen, i will put my account on lockdown and won't be active until it's over, which usually lasts a few days.

➷ TO ADD ONTO THAT . . . whenever i take my ADHD medicine, it usually makes my splitting worse due to the symptoms of the medication, and also makes my anger issues insufferable. the only reason i'm making these publicly known is because i've learned from my mistakes in the past about not alerting people of them and it causing problems in the future.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ © 97ify

[founded-on-procrastination]

Hermitcraft Fanfic Catalog Post

A list of fics that I did not write but I really enjoy and want to keep track of.

NOTE: Some of these have Trigger Warnings listed on them but make sure to read the tag before going into any fic.

Multi-Fic:

Dimentional Reinventions, by Sekrap || Finished ||

Trickster || Finished || “After the Trickster of the world goes missing, the Hermits must hurry to find their friend with only a new wizard, a very tired admin, and a thinly veiled threat to guide them.”

~Family Issues~ || Finished || “The Deep Void was behind the Hermits. The world was rocketing towards it's normal industrial self with giant buildings and extensive farms and endless beauty. And then the Nether changed. One should know better than to mix family issues with the Hermits, especially if that family is a bunch of demons.”

(Prequel) The Parting Glass || Finished || “Doc has been trying to forget. He has done everything everyone told him he should do to make the memories go away. And still the jungle calls for him.”

Uncle Vega AU, by AmberedSheepGlazed || Unknown ||

Slayers Sons, by Ambered || Finished || “Xisuma is enjoying a normal day on the Hermitcraftserver, when Evil Xisuma barges in. He claims their father is sick - the Doomslayer. Xisuma follows him back to his home where they grew up, back to the Fortress of Doom. But when not even VEGA knows what's going on, will they manage to help the Slayer? Tango and Impulse, on the other hand, may just have gotten a little too curious to learn more about their admins dad, and are stumbling into things way over their head.”

Unexpected Company, by Ambered & SyconSenti || Finished || “... Xisuma being the son of the DoomSlayer... ‘How would Doomguy react to Herobrine?’... And things happened.”

Doomguy Assigned Dad, by Allonsia || Unfinished || “The Doom Slayer finds himself in a position where he must care for two young boys who, much like him, have a history with Doctor Samuel Hayden.”

Nightmare, by Allonsia || Oneshot || “Xisuma has a nightmare, about a time when Dr Samuel Hayden was present in his childhood. Good thing that time in his life is over, and he has friends who will be at his side when he needs them.”

It Runs in the Family, by Allonsia || Oneshot || “Evil Xisuma finds out what he is, and is afraid. His father, the Doom Slayer, uses his voice to comfort him.”

i can be the one you call, by Mayflowers07 || Ongoing || “The Hermits have a code phrase. If spoken, this phrase acts as an emergency safe word, telling everyone to stop whatever they’re doing, because something is seriously wrong. Whether it’s from physical or emotional distress, all Hermits know that when someone uses the code, they need help from their chaotic, dysfunctional family.”

Welcome to the Panic Room || XB || TW: Panic Attacks, Claustrophobia, Self-Harm

Up in Arms for You || Doc || TW: Violence, Injury (no blood though, since it’s his metal arm that’s injured) Major Character Injury, Self Confidence Issues

Don’t Burn Out on Me || Tango || TW: Self-Harm

A Little Party Never Killed || Iskall || TW: Sexual Harassment, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault

Face to Face || Etho || TW: Social Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Burns, Blindness, Anxiety Attacks

A Wicked Sword (A Gentle Kiss) || Keralis || TW: Kidnapping, Torture, Electricity, Electrocution, Beating, Blood, Violence, Threats of Violence, Death Threats

Rest Your Weary Head || Cub || TW: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Vomiting, Paranoia, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Drug Use

Tell Me About Despair || False || TW: Bullying, Death Threats, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Baiting, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues

L’appel du Vide || Zedaph || TW: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intrusive Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Esteem Issues

Fall Apart Without Me, Body || Jevin || TW: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues

To Noise Making || Ren || Sensory Overload, Pain, Panic Attacks, Self-Doubt, Internalized Ableism

One Million Stupid Things || Mumbo || TW: Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

After the Storm || Beef || TW: Injury, Hypothermia, Near Death Experiences

Secluded in Hatred || Wels || TW: Mental Instability, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self Harm (kinda), Abandonment, Abandonment Issues, Anger, Blood and Injury, Beating

Maul the World || Joe || TW: Permdeath AU, Blood and Injury, Violence, Near Death Experiences

The Meteor Effect || Ongoing

Multi-Chapter:

and the universe shifts (ATUS), by aayaptre || Finished || "‘They were playing a game, they called it a game, it was one he couldn’t win. He played anyway.’ Grian's been running for a long time, and knowing him, he's going to be caught eventually.”

those maddening circles, that we must fly and dance our way around, by Interjection || Finished || “It was a well known fact that vexes were the most dangerous mobs of all. Not the small, spectral creatures that evokers conjured up - true vexes, the masters of their mysterious woodland mansions. Unlike other mobs, they were capable of intelligent thought. They possessed strange, powerful magic that could permanently kill even the strongest of players. And most terrifying of all, they had an instinctual taste for destruction and misery - an unshakable, undeniable thirst that was encoded into their very being. They agreed to stop the vex magic this season. But one can not hide from their true nature so easily...”

The Aspect Series, by Stowaway_Macaw || Ongoing || “A collection of character studies for each of the active hermitcraft members as of season 7.”

Shells in the Foam (a Hermit!Tommy fanfic), by Cedarwhisp21 || Ongoing || “When Dream attacks Tommy in Logestshire, Tommy runs. Badly injured, he somehow manages to slip between worlds and wakes up in a badlands biome, on a server far from home, with no other players in sight. The Hermits are surprised when a new player logs in, and confused when no-one's at spawn. Five days later, after waiting for the new player to introduce themselves, Xisuma uses his admin abilities to access their coordinates. He takes Impulse with him to welcome the new player to Hermitcraft, but instead of the beginnings of a base, they find something a lot more concerning.”

For the Lies We Leave Behind, by Ingoma || Ongoing || “Only the Vex matter. Not him. That is what Cub knows. He is Nothing. Then Scar comes. And Cub's world shatters. A Cub and Scar backstory.” || TW: Mind Manipulation, Emotional/Physical Abuse, Kidnapping, Character Death, Unhealthy Thinking Patterns, Unhealthy Devotion, Hypocrisy, Suicidal Thoughts, Cults

Lost in the Void's Embrace, by ambered || Finished || "Xisuma finds himself waking up without his memory in the End, with no recollection of who he is or how he got there. It's clear he should get out, but this isn't as easy as he thought, since he has no idea what he is doing. However, this is not the only thing that went weird on the server... Will the Hermits manage to get to the bottom of this with their admin in a state like that?"

Cause We Are Whole, by ooFFFF || Finished || “Nothing happened, Tango is sure of it. He just inexplicably fell asleep for 5 weeks straight, that’s all. He woke up fine, everything is fine. Besides, Xisuma would have told him if something was wrong. The hermits would have told him. ...Right?” || Permadeath AU, Robots

Come Little Children, by Ender_Crystal_23 & LesbeanMom98 || Ongoing || “after an accidental mix-up in the mcc teams, and the hermits catch wind of some of what is going on in the dream smp they decide to take matters into their own hands.”

Vexing Quest, by Inarock || Finished || “The world stuttered. It felt like it was tearing itself apart. A glitch so bad It tore the Hermits off their world. Scar and Bdubs find themselves in an unfamiliar world, where creeper holes aren't filled and trees are left half mined with just the leaves floating. The plan is simple: Find the admin and ask for help to send them back home. They didn't count on how hostile this new world was. Or Scar and Bdubs are stuck in an anarchy world and have to find their way back to the Hermitcraft Server.”

Fly for Your Life, by theteaandbiscuits || Ongoing || “After a while, the boy looked up at Grian, ‘Why are you guys- Why are you so fuckin’ nice? I’ve been here for like half an hour, and no one has gotten angry at me for being a dick, that Xisuma bitch saved my life, and helped me calm down after a freakout- What the fuck? I don’t understand!’ He cried, and Grian just let him talk. It hurt to hear, and made him wonder who hurt this kid. His avian instincts weren’t helping either, it was not the time to be trying to take in an abandoned fledgling. It also did not help that between the ugly sobs the kid was making, he could hear the repressed chirps that struggled to pass through whatever barrier this kid had put up to stop any bird-like sounds.”

Oneshots:

Airlocked, by Sharo || “Grian goes snooping around Xisuma's base and finds more than he was bargaining for.”

Extended Family, by orphan_account || “Stress takes the hermits to her hometown to meet her family.”

You Are What You... Wear?, ooFFFF || “Grian learns why you don’t wear mob heads for an extended period of time.” || Mermaid AU || TW: Minor Panic-Attack

The Three Stages of Impulse Making Friends, by Luckyducks || “Being summoned for a demonic deal to save someone's life, being summoned again to save that person's life, threatened, and having to spend a month with them isn't the most conventional way to make friends. Somehow, it ends up working out for the three of them.” || Magical Misfits AU

Old Scars, by LunaStarSeeker || “At first, Grian had acted a little weird around Scar. Scar had brushed it off, since Grian was the new guys. After all, after about a month, Grian had seemed to warm up to him, and Scar had just passed off Grian's strange behavior as nervousness from being the new guy. But then the Hippie invasion takes a strange turn, and Grian hastily explains his odd behavior, before roping him into a past he had no idea he was a part of. Oh, and Scar can't speak Japanese.”

It Comes In Waves, by ooFFFF || “Scar gets stuck in Aqua Scar mode more often than he’d like to admit. How the other hermits haven’t noticed yet is beyond him.” || Mermaid AU

midnight fights, by fluffy_papaya || “The voice, the voice, the voice. It was decrepit and musical at the same time, it was a corpse that had replaced it’s rotten vocal chords with rich violin strings. ‘Who are you, and did you hurt my Shishwammy?’ Keralis said softly.” || Superpowers AU || TW: Light Body Horror, Graphic Threats

you carry it with you, by Anonymous || “evil x has been banned since season six. what happened during that time? what happens after his return?” || TW: Rape, Attempted Abortion, Panic Attacks, Premature Birth

Chunk Error, by LackyDucks || “Xisuma doesn't smooth over a server glitch fast enough. With their admin trapped, the other hermits have to save him from the consequences.”

(Not from the dollar store) Crack Fics

It is time for prancing, by thatgirlfromasgard || “Xisuma realises he can do some cool things with the lights in the cyborg parts of his friends. And what better than to try and use it to just meme on everyone?”

The Hermits And The Mystery of How Evil X Eats, by thatgirlfromasgard || “The Hermits have a very important discussion while sitting around the campfire. How does Evil X eat, when he always wears a helmet?”

[veneli]

(more) Damien x Gavin Wedding HCs !!!

(Bonus stuff I thought of while I should’ve been sleeping, featuring soundtracks for walking down the isle, and a collage of their clothes)

Correction: they had an Autumn wedding, not Winter. Literally did not read that Fire elementals are Sunbound and Damien would’ve felt like shit if they got married on the Winter solstice. Sorry Damie andddd enjoy some extra stuff <3

Damien walked down the isle to a Disney song. I know he did. Either I See the Light (Tangled, fits with the Tangled AU (I have a very strong incline to write a Tangled AU now)) or A Whole New World (Aladdin). It just works so fucking well with their relationship i just *ahhggg*

(A Whole New World, lyrics) new experiences for both of them, and never wanting to turn back into the past where they didn’t have each other. “Tell me princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?” A long time ago. “Indescribable feelings, soaring, tumbling, freewheeling through and endless diamond sky”

(I See The Light, lyrics) working so hard and never even thinking about love being a possible thing he’d come to discover, the fog clearing as they lead each other forward <3 held back by fear of the unknown, but once guided through a veil of mistrust and untruths, they can finally enjoy the world for what it is <3

They 100% karaoke-ed after their dance

And to amend my previous post about the song they danced to, they chose a movie soundtrack instead of a pop song. Part of me wants to say Disney again but I would like to nominate: This Is Me (lyrics)from the Greatest Showman. A very different vibe from Fallin’ All in You but I LIKE IT. Marrying a Demon? An Incubus at that? Some would say it was taboo, but, he didn’t give a shit. Damien loved who he loved and this man, Gavin was his. His husband, and he was keeping him

Their dance was choreographed by (drumroll), Angel! As a dance/music teacher they put together the dance for them, taught them the dance, and guided them through every part of it. The newlyweds found Angel through their Performing Arts school (that Angel started themselves) then realized “oh wait, they’re the mate of the largest pack in Dahlia? Wow, the whole pack’s going on the guest list then”

Clothes. I love wedding attire. (and their choices of rings)

All of Damien’s garb for the night:

All of Gavin’s garb for the night:

Probably gonna do more stuff related to this HC series (aka look at all the stuff i have in my draft and decide should I start something new yet, but most definitely gonna do something about it. Maybe a oneshot or incorrect quotes… or both. Or a texting thing. We’ll see)