#they tried to make it seem less 'humanity must die' again at the end by ending the virus

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[candycandy00]

Roses in the Sky - An Original Alien x Reader Story Part 5

In a future where humanity huddles in decaying domed cities controlled by alien invaders, you and your best friend Anna work as make-shift nurses in a tiny clinic run by the young doctor Terrian. The city is ruled by the aliens' violent, half-breed offspring who serve as brutal overseers. You and Anna have always tried to avoid these overseers at all cost, but your life is changed when one of those same terrifying offspring is brought into the clinic, injured and unconscious.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

This is an original Alien (well half alien) x Fem Reader story! I hope everyone who enjoys my fanfiction will give this a shot! Any feedback whatsoever would be loved! I’ve already written this story so it’s not going to delay my fanfics. Just thought I might post chapters of this between fanfics if anyone is interested.

Slow burn, as this is a novel-length story, but there will be smut in later chapters! Also: violence, blood, rape attempts, death of side characters, etc.

“Hurry and check Terrian! He might still be alive!" you yelled to Anna as you dropped to your knees beside Vartan. He was still conscious, but curled into the fetal position, holding his stomach. Blood was pooling around him. You touched his shoulder, and he seemed to jerk slightly before he looked up at you.

"I believe my wound has reopened," he said calmly, his voice denying that he was in any pain whatsoever. But sweat rolled down his forehead as he struggled to sit up and he hissed a little as he moved his arms from his abdomen and looked down.

You helped him unbutton his jacket and slipped it off his shoulders. The bandages were still there, but they were now soaked with blood. "I have to get these off," you told him.

"Hey!" Anna cried from across the room, her voice frantic. "I found a pulse! He's still alive!"

You leapt to your feet and ran to where Anna was kneeling beside Terrian's body. Together the two of you rolled him over onto his back, getting his face out of the puddle of his own blood. His glasses fell off, and a large bruise was becoming visible on his left cheek. 

You figured one of the half-breeds must have punched him through the face with their full strength. Humans had died from less force, so Terrian was lucky to be alive.

You and Anna stood up and each grabbed one end of Terrian's body, lifting him onto the nearest cot. Anna looked desperately at you. "What do we do now? I've never treated a head injury before! Terrian always did it himself!"

You had your hands on your forehead. "I don't know! Does he have a concussion?!"

"How would I know? What if he has brain damage?! What if he's in a coma?!"

"Oh, God... I don't know what to do! I don't think there's another doctor in the whole city!"

Anna was crying again. "We can't just let him die! He's... he's all we have!"

Vartan climbed to his feet and limped over to the cot where Terrian laid motionlessly.

You were both surprised, and stepped back while he looked Terrian over. "I don't think the injury will cause permanent damage," he said.

"How do you know that?!” Anna practically screamed.

"We have been studying the human body for years. I have some basic medical knowledge."

"And you think he's going to be okay?" Anna asked, a little more calmly.

Vartan nodded. "I'm not certain, but he appears to only be unconscious. The position and color of the bruise indicate that his brain did not receive the majority of the impact. If I'm correct, he should regain consciousness soon."

"But all that blood..." you said, still staring at Terrian.

"Came from his mouth. Three of his teeth are gone," Vartan replied, pointing to Terrian's slightly gaped mouth.

Both you and Anna burst into tears, hugging each other and then laughing loudly. You were so relieved that you almost forgot Vartan was there, bleeding and on the verge of passing out. He was leaning against the wall and his hair, wet with blood and sweat, was hanging messily in his eyes. The two of you rushed to his side, allowing him to lean on you as you helped him to the back room, where the medical supplies were.

Once in the room, you sat him down on a stretcher and he carefully laid back, wincing with every move. You headed over to the counter to get alcohol and thread, when you caught Anna's eye. "Are you okay with this? Helping him?"

Anna gave you a meaningful look. "He saved us. If he hadn't gone against them, I don't even want to think about what would've happened. I hate half-breeds, but I owe him. Big time."

You nodded and then you both ran back to the stretcher to begin sewing Vartan's wound back up. It took you a little longer than it had when Terrian was helping the first time, and your work was a little more clumsy, but you managed to close the wound and stop the bleeding.

Amazingly, Vartan never screamed once, although he did occasionally grunt when the needle pierced his skin. By the time you were finished, he was exhausted and practically immobile while you bandaged him up. He fell asleep just as you looked up to tell him you were finished.

You turned out the lights and quietly left the room, returning to the main patient area to sit by Terrian's bed. You did your best to ignore the sight of the dead, scattered patients, splattered across the walls and floor. To keep yourselves distracted, you and Anna talked.

"Why did you come back?" You asked her.

Anna gave you a weak smile. "I couldn't leave you and Terrian here. I couldn't let you deal with that, not alone."

You looked down. "It must have been horrible for you, how close it came to... to what happened before."

Anna smiled very brightly then. "Yes, it was horrible at the time. But now that it's over, I'm really happy! I fought back! Look, I even have that bastard's blood under my nails where I scratched his face!"

You looked at her, surprised. "Yeah, you really did good!"

Anna laughed, then looked at you seriously. "Before, I was just a kid. I was thirteen. The minute they came in, they told me not to move a muscle. So I didn't. I was too terrified to even flinch, even when they killed my mom and brother. I didn’t even try to help them! And afterward, I felt so guilty. I kept asking myself why I didn't try to fight back. I know I couldn’t have stopped them, but I should have tried! And I promised myself, that if I was ever put in that position again, I'd fight with everything I have, even if it gets me killed. That's why I'm really proud of myself today!"

Even though she was smiling again, tears were forming in Anna's eyes. "I was so scared today, but I didn't run away! I fought back! I faced them! I... I made it right."

You stood up and wrapped your arms around Anna. You stroked your friend's hair as tears fell down your own face. "Yeah, you made it right, Anna."

Anna was crying hard again, and you held her tightly. "We're such crybabies today, aren't we?" Anna asked though her tears, laughing now.

You laughed too. "Yeah, we are.”

"Am I in heaven? I hear two angels talking.”

You both froze, then looked down at Terrian, who was looking up at you with half-open eyes. You both practically tackled him, encasing him in your arms. He laughed, then groaned. "Oh, my mouth hurts," he said, sitting up.

"One of the half-breeds knocked out a few teeth," Anna told him, sitting on the bed beside him.

Terrian groaned again, this time louder. Then he looked both you and Anna up and down. “You're both alright? What happened?"

You and Anna looked at each other for a moment, then you sat down on the cot across from Terrian's. "We came back in to help you, but the half-breeds over-powered us. They were about to kill us when Vartan came in and convinced them to let us go."

Terrian's eyes became large and wet. "You mean you almost died while trying to save me?"

The two of you nodded.

He suddenly stood up and pulled you both into his arms. "I knew it," he said, his voice cracking. "The moment I met you two, I knew you were good girls!"

You and Anna blushed a little, but smiled and laughed as Terrian cried. The family was back together. You were all alive and healthy, and that's all that mattered.

Terrian suddenly stepped back. "Wait, you said Vartan saved us? Where is he now?"

"He's in the back room, asleep," Anna said.

"Asleep?"

"They punished him instead of us," you told him, "and his wound reopened. Anna and I stitched it back up, but I think he ended up passing out."

"I'd better go check him," Terrian said, walking past them. You followed him into the back room and turned the lights on. To your shock, the stretcher Vartan had been lying on was empty, only a crumpled sheet remaining. The back door was open, and the crisp night air drifted in, sending shivers down your back.

The three of you discussed Vartan, explaining to Terrian what had happened to him but leaving out the more embarrassing details of what had occurred while he was knocked out. Neither you nor Anna wanted to worry Terrian any more than you already had.

You spent the rest of the evening cleaning up the bodies in the main patient room. You were appalled by the bloodshed, but Terrian was an absolute wreck. He loved his patients so dearly, far more so than you or Anna could comprehend. You often thought he viewed each and every patient as his own child, no matter their age. It was he who often stayed at the clinic over night, feeding the elderly soup or reading stories to the children. It was he who constantly talked to them, got to know them on a personal level. And it was he who now stood in the center of the room with tears streaming down his face as you and Anna hurried to wrap the bodies with sheets and carry them to one corner of the room.

Terrian had taken the news that the clinic had been shut down very badly. He didn't say anything, but you could tell he was deeply upset. After you moved the last body to the corner, he told you he wanted to burn the clinic. 

"But why? They just told us we can't take any more patients in," Anna said. "We don't have to destroy it! We have so many memories here!"

Terrian looked at her sadly. "I know, but it's not the place that made the memories, it's the people. The clinic serves no purpose if we can't help anyone. And besides," he said, glancing at the bodies in the corner for the first time, "we have to give them a proper funeral."

"Funeral?" you asked.

"We can't burry them all. There's not enough land for that and it would take way too long. So we should burn them."

You and Anna were quiet for a moment, then both of you finally agreed. The three of you cleaned out the back room, boxing up all of the supplies and anything that could possibly be useful later. Once it was all done, Terrian poured out a bottle of alcohol onto a sheet in the middle of the main patient room and lit it on fire with a match. You exited the clinic and stood with Anna and Terrian outside on the street, watching it burn.

Terrian turned to you and Anna. "I'll be expecting you at my house starting tomorrow. For your new jobs."

"What new jobs?" Anna asked.

Terrian grinned at her, the first time he had done so in the past few hours. "You're my new maids!"

You and Anna smiled to each other. "We'll be there, Doctor."

You parted ways once again, the last time the three of you would ever do so on that particular street, in front of that particular building. It was still burning furiously as you walked toward your apartment. It was later than usual, and the streets were fairly quiet. At least the blazing building behind you provided plenty of light, though the half-breeds would show up soon enough to put out the fire. 

You wondered about Vartan, why he had left without saying anything and where he had went and why he had really helped you. But most of all, you wondered if you would ever see him again. All but one of your meetings had taken place at the clinic, and it was where he knew to find you. Even if by chance you saw him on the street, he would no doubt be with other half-breeds and you wouldn't dare approach, no matter what had happened between you. 

You shook your head as you unlocked your door. Why did it even matter if you would see him again? He was a half-breed. He was a monster, regardless of what had happened. The female half-breed was probably right, he probably just wanted to have his way with you and then toss you aside. That's what half-breeds did.

You opened the door and stepped inside. You reached back with your right hand to shut the door behind you, but someone grabbed your wrist. You jerked yourself around to see who was there, and found yourself face to face with Vartan. His jacket was still unbuttoned from earlier, leaving his chest and bandaged abdomen exposed. His grip on your wrist was firm, but not tight or painful. He seemed tired, weak.

He looked you in the eyes and said flatly "I'm coming in."

Tag List:

@scrumptiouslampwobblercop

[noisyghost]

I have Questions!!

How was Mira immortal??

How did she trade her immortality for Ark??

Totally normal about that whole reblog chain 🤡

*twirling my hair invitingly to distract you from the 20k word document with inconsequential headworld bullshit i'm opening up behind me*

To answer your questions, i have to explain two related points. Do not scroll down and look at how long this reply is. don't look. im very normal about them.

First point: how MagicTM works in my headworld. Magic works under the laws of alchemy, aka the law of equivalent exchange. For something gained, something of equal or greater value must be lost. This, of course, facilitates the philosophical question of "what is equal to a human life." Necromancy/resurrection is not a 'forbidden art' persay, it's just that it's generally agreed upon to be impossible. People have tried, and it usually just results in a waste of time. Because when a person is dead, they're dead. You could throw a thousand sacrifices at someone and it wouldn't make a difference (this is generally considered to be because if, theoretically, you did bring someone back to life, they would just immediately die again. Because they died for a reason, bringing them back wouldn't magically fix what killed them in the first place lol).

There appears to be, however, one small caveat to this - one perfect scenario under which a hypothetical 'resurrection' would be possible. If the person has very recently died (we're talking less than a minute, the longer that brain isn't getting oxygen, the deader they get), and a very skilled magic practitioner was nearby and had something they could trade, AND bringing the person back wouldn't immediately kill them again (IE: you cant fix someone getting their head blown off!), you could hypothetically resurrect them. This would literally ONLY work in a "they just need a few more minutes for help to arrive" scenario. If any of these conditions are not met, it isn't gonna work.

The circumstances under which Ark died just happened to be so perfectly aligned that this was even possible! Werewolves are very uncommon bc werewolves are so dang big that whenever they bite someone, it usually just kills them lol. The werewolf that bit Ark physically restrained herself from biting all the way thru. If she hadn't, he would have died instantly. Then, the second his heart stopped beating, Mira immediately made the exchange without hesitation. She traded functional immortality for about 10 minutes of time, which happened to be just barely long enough to get his ass to a hospital.

Which, ofc, begs the question: "what is worth 10 minutes of life". Leading me into.....

Second point: Mira is not human. Mira is a djinn. This was a driving wedge in her and Ark's relationship at one point - not because she wasn't human, but because she lied about it and it ended up getting his sister hurt (which is. a whole other can of worms). Djinn are long lived, 'human adjacent' beings considered to be the originators of the alchemical arts of magic in the first place. Which is to say, she's very good at magic!

Because of their status of Not Being Human, their lifespans don't align with ours, and they appear to be pretty much immortal (theres a whole disclaimer list and caveats to this but it would take too long to explain and we dont have time for that lol)

So, when pressed, Mira traded her extended lifespan to buy Ark a few extra minutes. And it wasn't even really a difficult decision for her - everyone but her seems really upset about it. But pretty much all of her friends are human or human adjacent, and will live normal human lifespans, so she thinks she "doesnt need those extra years anyway".

if you will, "whats a couple hundred years on this earth without you in it?"

[queenmagnusao3]

a kiss with death is better than none - CH 4

Link to Full Fic

The nature of death was indifference.

All living things must die and therefore there was no need to feel anything about it. But Death was still curious. Death still found life fascinating.  And every so often Death decided to make things interesting.

Rampant illness was boring. But it kept her busy. The humans were so vulnerable and succumbed so quickly. Witches loved interfering with these vulnerabilities. But Death didn’t mind. She admired their ability to prolong the inevitable. Death did not worry because they would all come to her eventually. It was the natural order of things. 

She could sense the potential of a new soul ready for her to claim. A magical soul, no less. There was something about this one that made her get an early start to the job.

Death approached the house.

It was a small cottage on the edge of a small village and she knew it was the home of witches. There were 3 souls inside. One that grew weaker by the moment. 

And so Death slipped inside, to the room where the dying soul lay.

She was surprised, something that so very rarely happened, to find a young girl of 11 prone on a bed. Her face was red and slick with sweat as she hovered in a delirious state between conscious and unconscious. 

The sickness did not surprise Death, nor did the girl’s age as death did not discriminate based on age. No, she was surprised because the room was empty. There was no mother or healer by the child’s bedside. No sign of medicine or tending on the bed table. No damp cloth on the girl’s brow. No. She was completely alone.

And so Death wandered outside the room, careful to keep herself shrouded from sight.

Two women sat in the kitchen, conversing quietly.

“I could try one of my healing potions. You know it worked on my Anna.”

A slightly older witch shook her head solemnly.

“I’ve tried already. Nothing seems to be working.”

A lie.

Death knew it.

The other woman sighed, taking the witch’s hand.

“I am sorry, Evanora. I can try again for you if you want. I know how hard this must be.”

The woman called Evanora smiled as she squeezed the other’s hand, tears welling in her eyes.

“Thank you, sister. But I fear there is nothing to be done. I have felt death calling for her.”

Lies.

Death did not understand. She had dealt with countless mothers who begged and pleaded to trade places with their children, mothers who threatened her, who were willing to destroy the world if it meant saving her child. She had dealt with mothers who welcomed death and even this was still always from a place of love. A plea to end suffering or bring the peace that only death could bring. 

But that was not what was happening here. There was no love in this woman’s words. Her intentions were not motherly. They were bitter, poisoned with some kind of hatred for some reason Death did not know or understand. 

She returned to the child, taking her place of vigil at the end of her bed.

And she waited.

She was the natural order of things. She had dealt with cruel parents before. Collected children who lived in nothing but pain and suffering and yet there was something about this young witch that made her pause. That made her question whether this was indeed the natural order of things.

“I’ll bring her some water before I leave.”

Death was already in the shadows when the witch came in. She rested the back of her hand on the child’s forehead and nodded sadly. She brought the cup of water to her lips, coaxing quietly.

“Agatha dear, I’ve got some water for you.”

The girl did not open her eyes but she did take a small sip of the water before coughing softly. The older witch placed the cup on the bed table and gave the girl a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving.

“If you need anything Evanora, please come to me.”

“I will, thank you. I just want to spend what time I have left with her.”

She felt something unfamilar. Something she had very little experience with.

Death was angry.

She did not know why she did it. She did not know what it was about this child that made her feel so different. But her disgust with her supposed mother made her act. She moved to bed table and picked up the cup of water. She lifted it to her lips and let it linger before lifting the girl’s head and bringing the cup up for her to drink from..

She took a couple gulps. Her eyes fluttered open, confused but there.

Death’s hood hid her face as she lifted a finger to where her mouth should be, signaling the girl to be quiet. The blues eyes closed again before she fully comprehended Death’s presence. 

Death left with only a name, curious to see what her gift might bring in the future. 

Agatha.

[katyspersonal]

That one interpretation about Micolash’s fate now lives rent free in my head. I’m not opposed to the notion of him dying once and for all, and I like the irony of a scholar obsessed with the pursuit of knowledge spending his last moments in ignorance. But being forever trapped in his own mummified body seems like the perfect punishment and suits the theme of hopelessness so well. For someone who despised his humanity so much, who went above and beyond to escape the limitations of his body, being forced back into his pathetic, frail, powerless body must be pure torture. Once Micolash’s consciousness is brought back, he’ll have all eternity to ponder over the fact that his efforts were fruitless and he’s nothing but a withered corpse, a manifestation of human fragility and mortality. But in contrast to the situation with Lovecraft’s priest, there’ll be nobody around to destroy his brain and end his sufferings.

No, this is absolutely valid, and from the standpoint of a person that gives "proper" judgement to Bloodborne characters - yeah, he "deserved" it!

I just have a completely different way to look at the things, and Soulsborne games offer me the most freedom in this. Like I said, the whole theme of 'fate worse than death' applied to the war criminals we meet in these games just doesn't do anything to me. Doesn't make me mad (because, again, they probably "deserve" it) but also doesn't really excite me... The problem with Soulsborne settings is that things are so chaotic and flipped upside down that morality, principles and and judgement as we know them no longer apply in my opinion- heck, I always said I can't really guilt characters like Aldrich or Rykard for how much atrocities they've committed, because the world they're in is so fundamentally broken and doomed that in the end, what they'd have to do to escape it no longer matters...? Elden Ring didn't touch upon it well enough, and even gave us *gasp* OPTIMISM!!!!, but Dark Souls totally falls for this... mess.

On the other hand, characters like Allant or Shabriri in my interpretation I'd totally say deserved "real" judgement. And Micolash is kinda complicated... He falls exactly in the middle. Dude did quite the unthinkable things to break free from the humanity, but also his setting kinda falls for the trope of "humanity is doomed anyways" and his only fault is that he tried to escape, whatever it takes, rather than pull the whole 'I will perish but at least not lose my human decency uwu' thing. For most people, choosing the latter feels like an axiom and they don't need reasoning to why it is "the only acceptable way", but for this type of high IQ investigators not necessarily so. Because hooooow many tiiiiimes you fuckers need an evidence that huge intellect caaaaaan be as much of a cuuuuuurse.

But, again, Bloodborne setting is less obviously... that. Dark Souls IS doomed, yes. Bloodborne is, like... well, he is (presumably) stuck in the city that will wither under endless cycle of the hunt no matter what. So I speculate his problem (and many other characters') is witnessing the knowledhe humans were not meant to see - and losing the sight of worth of his humanity as a result. Again, the smarter you are - the more damaging this effect will be! More simple-minded people would be able to withstand the comprehension of futility of humanity and the cyclic trap that deems both beasthood and Kinship meaningless because "but humanity is still important just because". (Also love how Bloodborne itself addresses this complexion by the fact that the higher person's Insight level is, the stronger Frenzy damage they take!)

__________________

Basically, what I am saying is, this is a "satisfying" fate for Micolash by common logic.. But I personally would rather either let the guy die a real death, or let him be reborn into something else. His setting and the things he learned make his pursuit to transcend humanity at all cost not only fair in my eyes, but even couragerous, in a way. Actually.....

^^^ what really skewed my perspective on most of the Soulsborne's "war criminals" was Miyazaki himself perceiving Fauxsefka as a heroine xD I was instantly able to decipher it as the fact that her courage is doing a 'morally reprehensive' thing (turning people into cosmic Kin) for the greater good (so they lose any chance to become the beasts instead). Not everyone will "dirty" their own hands for some greater idea. But, yeah, Micolash is likely not 'heroic', as he simply cared for helping himself. The only other Mensis scholar we know of is Damian, who actively works against Mico's goals (which is very telling); the other participants of his ritual are prisoners (damn, Miyazaki, can we go against the dilemma of "deciding for everyone else" for ONE game??).

I am glad that you've found a resolution for Micolash's arc that is very satisfying and exciting for you, though! This sorta thing always feels cathartic!

[kariachi]

Some taur au reboot fic! Set after the movie, people go out of their way to look out for Kevin, even if he can't yet entirely appreciate it.

~~

After the whole chaotic mess with Vilgax, Max and Phil had two immediate goals. The first, to make sure Ben was alright. After losing him in space only for him to return and immediately engage Vilgax in combat? Max had never been the best caretaker in the world but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make sure his grandson was in the same number of pieces he’d left him in. There had been hugging and fretting, getting a basic understanding of what exactly had happened on his end. He was safe, he was whole, aside from some bruising he was hearty.

All four of them, men and children alike, had then agreed on goal two- make sure Kevin was alright. Vilgax had, as Ben said, hit him very hard. Where they’d deviated had been responses to finding where he’d landed. Ben and Gwen had heaved sighs of relief to see it empty. He must be alright if he’d managed to wander off again, even if they had both looked uncertain while griping about him leaving when he knew they’d be looking.

The adults on the plateau had simply shared a look, one born of lifetimes of pets hiding injuries and cats finding hidden spots to die in. Phil had immediately run back home to see if there was anything left in the wreckage to let him track the Antitrix, while Max lead the children in hunting for any sort of tracks they might be able to find. It was rough going for three people with no experience, but the kids seemed to catch on to their grandfather’s urgency. Gwen had been openly worried again by the time she called the others over to hoofprints in the sandy dirt, though that may have been more from the pattern of three than Max’s concern. Either way, they’d had a loose trail to follow by the time Phil returned with a half-cobbled together piece of tech he finished on their way out.

It was almost a relief when they found him up a tree. Max hadn’t known Taur could climb trees, aside from the occasional goat, and especially not when one of their legs was clearly injured, but what he did he know about moose calves.

Kevin was clearly battered and bruised, unsurprising given the three thrashings Vilgax had given him over the course of only a few hours. His breathing had been shallow, one leg dangling from the low branch he’d taken over, sluggishly bleeding, and the Antitrix clutched in one hand. It was painful to see the amount of tension, and still only part of it, leave him when he realized they had shown up. Not that any of this had stopped him from pitching the most unholy fit as they tried to get him out of the tree. For not the first time, as Ben went Humongasaur to scoop him up- snarling, bleating, and trying to lash out- and carried him to the Rustbucket, Max found himself happy the two had more-or-less even alien shapes to use when they clashed. Already Kevin weighed about the same as him, and the difference between the two boys would only get more pronounced when puberty hit- if ever Kevin lived that long.

Gwen threw together a mass of blankets and pillows on the floor of the Rustbucket while they were gathering the calf, and worked together with Ben to keep him firmly and securely in that spot while they rushed to one of the less overloaded hospitals in the area. Vilgax had done natural disaster levels of damage over the last day, and it had taken Phil hacking servers to find somewhere relatively nearby that wasn’t filled to the gills. The Gold Valley Clinic didn’t do a lot with Taur, it was in a predominantly human area, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. There was, supposedly, space and all else could be worked with.

Thankfully Kevin had accepted his fate, more-or-less, by the time they got there, and could be distracted with figuring out how Phil’s tech worked. Gwen and Ben had warned, as the adults filled out paperwork as best they could, that he was likely to use whatever he figured out to keep them from finding him again, but it was a risk they were willing to take. It kept him where he was and under control while they all waited for a doctor to become available.

If there was anything like filling out hospital paperwork to really drive home how how little you knew about someone, it was talking to the nice professional who came over to see him. Little enough that Dr Allison had quickly given up on asking them anything and turned to Kevin himself. It was some relief that he struggled to get information too aside from name and age. There were a lot of ‘not your problem’s, especially when it came to where he lived, where his parents were, and the like.

For the millionth time since he’d realized the state of the boy, Max kicked himself for not keeping a hold of him.

In part to make up for his failure and in part because he had more experience with him than Phil, Max was the one to accompany Kevin into an examination room. Neither he nor the doctor seemed to be able to tell whether that made him more or less comfortable, but there was some information about the injuries he’d sustained that Max could answer, including that he had received at least one head injury. That and his breathing got most of Dr Allison’s attention, followed by his injured leg, and the plethora of minor injuries he’d sustained.

The final count had been over twenty minor cuts and bruises, five different sprains, seven bruised bones, a massive abrasion on his leg which had been very obvious, two broken ribs, and a concussion. A lot of injuries, but nothing that would necessarily have required him to stay at the hospital under normal circumstance, and especially not when there were plenty of other injured people taking up space and waiting for care. He should rest, take painkillers and try to breathe normally, keep his weight off that leg as much as he could, all things that could be done at home as soon as he’d been patched up. But that was for kids with a home to go to. With a family to take them home. And if Kevin had one- something Max had doubted more each time he saw him- he wasn’t talking.

There were, in fact, processes in place for just this sort of situation. By the time he’d been patched up Child Protective Services had been called and informed there was another child to add to their list. Between this and Dr Allison, even with just the basic knowledge of Taur medical care, being able to tell that Kevin’s hooves were politely described as ‘a mess’ and out of earshot of the children as ‘neglected as all hell’, it was requested they stay in the waiting area. First for a farrier to be able to come out and check his hooves, then for a social worker to come and collect him.

The farrier- a nice young Taur named Olivia- had taken one look at his feet and pulled Max and Phil aside to find out if they knew who she had to hunt down. Then had been an awkward hop outside so she could work on making them livable and setting him up with medical shoes. Max couldn’t have told you from hooves, but he had to take her word it was bad when she joined them in waiting on the social worker, spending the time explaining to Kevin how to properly care for his feet. Even measured them for free, though she joked at his age it’d probably be inaccurate by the time he got into a shoe store.

The social worker was an obvious wreck by the time she arrived after sunset, stowing her phone at the last minute. Ms. Daugherty had been all business from the first, though not unpleasantly so, interviewing Max and Phil, interviewing the kids, Olivia, Dr Allison. She was clearly overworked, but Max took some relief in her refusal to half-ass her job, and with how patient she managed to still be with the kids. Saintlike, almost, given Kevin had just been getting tenser and tenser even with Olivia’s help and seemed about ready to bite by the time the questioning was done with. Ben and Gwen each had a hand on him the whole time, as if they expected him to bolt at any moment, though Max was fairly certain with his injuries and still not wearing his watch he wouldn’t be able to outrun either adult Taur. Presumably he knew this as well, as despite the palpable wariness of himself and Ben both he didn’t fight so hard against getting into her vehicle as he had getting into the Rustbucket. Or maybe the day and his injuries had just caught up with him, and he was too worn out to make things hard on them. Either way, despite the children’s worry and with the relief of the adults, he got packed up to goodbyes, ‘stay in touch’s, pleads to try to behave for at least a month so he could heal.

It wasn’t until the vehicle had left their sight, lights fading away in the distance, that Olivia had said her goodbyes and gone. There had been several more minutes of tense waiting, like something might go horribly wrong, before the rest of them piled into the Rustbucket and headed out to find a place to park for the night. Nobody looked like they believed they’d get a wink of sleep, too busy worrying about whether Kevin would be okay, even if they kept trying to reassure each other. But the day had been long, it had been hectic and stressful, and every one of them had conked out as soon as their head hit a pillow, leaving things to seem brighter in the morning, waking to hopes of calm, promises of breakfast, and a barebones message from Kevin assuring he wasn’t dead, in a ditch, or back on the road.

Still, a little under three weeks later Max would get a call asking if he knew where he was. Fifteen minutes after that he would manage to find an accompanying ‘missing child’ report. A quick call of his grandkids revealed a selfie of Skunkmoth hovering over-top Pike’s Peak.

If nothing else, at least he could take solace knowing he wasn’t the only one that couldn’t keep hold of the little menace.

[beelsbignaturals]

Dead is the New Alive

CW: Blood, general vampirism, injury mentions, Canon typical violence. My attempt at fluff. It's a pretty tame addition this time around.

While my health was initially improving, soon it takes a turn for the worse. If I move too suddenly the injuries I sustained open up again. I'm tired of the worried looks exchanged daily between the brothers. As an apology for snapping at everyone, I try to leave my room more often. I join them for movie nights and dinners but that's about it. Afterwards I go back into hiding, exhausted. It seems no one has a damn clue what they are doing since, late at night, while I'm staring at the walls as always, a green haired vampire I haven't seen since that day in the dungeons is knocking on my door. 

I knew beforehand that whoever was walking towards me wasn't someone I knew well, the way they walk isn't familiar in the least. Regardless, I drag myself off the floor and let him in. Ignoring the way my joints scream in protest.  I make an attempt at an apology, despite the fact I had no knowledge of his imprisonment. Otis brushes it off.

"You can make it up to me by sitting down and letting me work." 

He wastes no time, asking me a million questions about what exactly seems to be bothering me. It is eerily similar to childhood trips to the Doctor's office. But this time I won't receive that sweet, sweet banana flavored medicine. 

Turns out the fang problem had something to do with me not actually using my new teeth. The solution? Freeze blood in an ice cube tray to chew on. Good to know I can still eat Popsicles post-mortem. 

"You know, I'm glad your boyfriend came to me when he did. This is a nasty infection you got." I take it back. This is more like being at the dentist, Otis making small talk while wrist deep in my face hole. 

"What boyfriend?" It sounds more like wah oyfen. I'm surprised he can understand what I'm saying. Maybe he went to dental school? I'm sure being older than sliced bread gives plenty of opportunities to further your education.

"More than one? Don't worry I'm not judging. Most immortals give up on that monogamy business by the end of their first century. It was the redheaded one." 

"Beel's not my boyfriend."

"Hmm. You should tell him that. Now normally I'd say gargle saltwater. Still do that. But don't swallow any, trust me. Your body is going to be adjusting to your new diet and the first year is rough. It will reject any regular sustenance. Not fun. I know." 

Tell who what? Sure, the guy who's avoiding me like the plague is my significant other. That makes perfect sense. 

Anyways, thinking back on the last time I tried eating real food…. Yeah I'm not risking it. It felt a bit like my entire digestive system wanted to make sure I die and stay dead. 

"Bite things. Liquid diet. Cool. What about coffins?" I'm half joking.

"No. Trade secret but, coffins aren't all that comfortable." Said with all the confidence of a man who has actually slept in a coffin. Noted.

Otis comes by the house biweekly to check on my progress and deliver more blood. Where he gets it all I'll never know… as far as my uneducated palate can tell it's all the same person, unless all blood tastes the same. Must be someone who's into that freaky shit.

In the meantime, I'm integrating back into the House of Lamentation ecosystem. 

Satan lent me some books on vampirism. I spend alot of my alone time reading up on vampire biology. Someone has scribbled notes throughout the books, crossing out lines and replacing them with contradictory information. 

Apparently the first year or so is a shit show. Young vampires are called fledglings. Although young is a relative term here considering they list young as anyone under 100. I'll be in a stage of immortal adolescence for a while. Technically I am capable of dying again but it would take an incredibly talented magician or a higher being, making the Devildom less dangerous than it was for human-me, but still a risk. I make a note to ask Otis if I still have a soul. 

Speaking of, Otis starts to visit more frequently and for longer periods of time. He gives me pointers on the vampiric lifestyle and we chat about our lives. 

All my questions are met with cryptic answers. "How old are you?" "Very." "Where do you get the blood?" "A creature with a pulse." "Is there a cure?" He changes the subject quick when I ask that. Still, despite his exterior, Otis seems genuinely interested in my well being and life. The taking is unsettling but it's nice to have someone to talk to who knows what I'm dealing with. 

I'm crunching on frozen blood while recounting my very first day in the Devildom. I had spent the night in my room, reading the full list of school rules . So I knew exactly how far I could push them. By morning I had spikes along the collar of my uniform, I painted the buttons and shoes, plus some stress induced embroidery here and there. Eventually I added several other modifications. 

"You should've seen Lucifer's face when I recited the entire dress code! I swear he almost popped a blood vessel." 

Otis nearly chokes on the blood he is sipping. I still haven't gotten a straight answer on where he gets it all. 

According to the books, fresh blood is ideal for proper nutrition but I don't want to worry about that yet. I'll take good enough if it means I don't need to think about possibly killing someone. At least with the donated stuff, I can have some hope the person is still alive.

The brother's still have classes to attend,  so during the day I hole up in my room. After school there's always someone fighting for my attention.

Monday nights are spent in Asmo's spa sized bathroom. A ritual that's been in place ever since we got back from the…. Eventful sleepover at the castle. Getting chased by a giant snake is bad for the skin. It's all fluffy robes and slippers and lavender scented steam. He keeps me up to date on the latest gossip while we smear clay on our faces.

"This should help minimize the scarring," He explains, applying some strange cream to the scar tissue his brother left behind.  

"Thanks." I'm not feeling all that talkative but I know I can rely on Asmo to fill the silence. 

"Y'know, I'm glad the no reflection thing is a myth. Not that I wouldn't love doing your makeup everyday but not being able to see your cute self? I couldn't stand for it," He runs around grabbing various products to show me. A strong perfume to hide the fact I apparently smell less human than before. A concealer that manages to be lightweight but still full coverage enough to hide pactmarks, so it should have no issues hiding the scars. 

I thank him again, feeling awkward with all the attention after weeks of avoiding everything with a pulse. 

"Of course, Laurlaur!" I roll my eyes at the nickname. Once Mammon tried to call me that. I kicked him in the shin. Though that was nothing compared to Asmo's anger. Apparently, it's his nickname and no one else's. Despite the fact I find it annoying at the best of times, I know it comes from a place of genuine care. So I suffer through it. Don't tell Asmo it's grown on me, it'll go to his head. 

"Oh and you better be all healed up by Devildom fashion week. You promised to be my plus one! Don't think you can worm your way out of that!" I'd forgotten the agreement I made, back when I first came to hell. Asmo was excited to have someone else with an interest in fashion to rate red carpet gowns with. When he learned I've never been to a fashion show he immediately decided I needed to start with the best of the best.

" Wouldn't dream of it." A small smile causes the mask carefully applied to my face to crack, sending small flakes of clay scattered about. 

"There's that smile I missed so much! The vibes have been so melancholy lately and I for one am over it. Come on let's wash this off, I have a new serum I think you'll love." Does this man ever take a breath? Still, I allow myself to get dragged along. 

All it takes is a month or two of Otis playing Dr. Dracula and I'm somewhat functional.  At the very least, I have two fangs, and my injuries have actually healed. I still can't stand lights, and everything is so damn loud, but I've been told I will adjust with time.

Slowly but surely I learn to exist with minimal pain. Small adjustments are made around the house, when I leave my room the lights are dimmed, curtains are always closed lest the strange day-cycle of the Devildom fries me to a crisp. According to Otis, he hasn't been in Hell long enough to know how "daylight" affects vampires. So for now it's better safe than sorry. The idea of never feeling the warmth of the sun again is depressing, so naturally, I put that in a little box to deal with later. Right beside my garlic bread related woes. 

Sadly for me, the demons don't have a mute button so I just deal with the constant screeching. Could be worse. 

Since I can't leave the house, Diavolo and Lucifer work on a cover story. My absence has started major rumors. My favorite is that Mammon traded my soul for a pair of Gucci slides. Alas, instead of letting everyone think I ceased to exist it's instead announced that I "fell ill and needed to go to a human world physician". I guess the exchange program is being extended due to the fragility of human lives. Once I'm given the all clear I'll be expected to go back to school. Yay. 

The more pressing issue is the fact no one can figure out how some vampire managed to sneak in, get that close to the House of Lamentation without anyone noticing, bite me, and run away leaving no trace whatsoever.  So before I head back to class, it's decided Barbatos will use his powers to send all of us back into the past to get a good look at the sneaky bastard. How hard can it be?

[voraciousvore]

Bucky's (35/44)

***Contains mouthplay, soft vore, hard vore, fatality, and gore!***

Chapter 35: It's a Giant-Eat-Giant World

The pain ceased, and Ronny was finally able to breathe again. He tried to stand, but he was cloaked in something dark and heavy. The world he knew was gone, the office was gone, and he was shrouded in blackness. He struggled to stand, pressed down by soft heaviness, and groped blindly around him, but he could hardly move. The floor quaked beneath him, knocking him over, and suddenly he was lifted and tossed around like he was on a roller coaster. He tumbled down a terrifying distance, sliding against rough fabric, until he smacked against a hard surface back in the light, momentarily blinded. 

His disorientation was magnified by an enormous, bellowing laugh that blew out his ears. “I don’t believe it! Look how puny he is!” a deafening roar that sounded like Mr. Hardon, but so much louder and fuller, exploded in the sky above him. “Candy, come here darling, let me compare.” 

Ronny felt thundering vibrations above and around him, as if a building had come to life and started moving. Candy shrieked somewhere behind him, but like Mr. Hardon, her voice was magnified and resonated through the air. Something large, much larger than him, plunked on the wood beside him. Ronny, squinting as his eyes adjusted, looked up to behold a Giantess standing over him. She was huge, at least five times his size. A towering shadow moved into Ronny’s peripheral, and he snapped his head around to find a gigantic naked man, twice the height of the woman, looming above him. Oddly enough, he had breadcrumbs and melted cheese stuck to his body. 

“What the fuck!” Ronny shouted, an angry tone masking his fear. He had no clue where these huge people had come from or what was going on. Two colossal misshapen objects, liked beached whales, slammed down on either side of him, making him jump. A dark shape eclipsed the light. Ronny cast his eyes upward and experienced the shock of his life. Mr. Hardon was leaning over him, impossibly massive, like a planet—so vast, he couldn’t see all of him. 

Two humongous, ridged walls of skin closed around him and pulled him up hundreds of feet. Ronny ascertained with dread he was being pinched between the Giant’s plump fingertips, his arms and legs pinned. Mr. Hardon’s face, gruesome in its size, encompassed the entire room. His freakish grin petrified Ronny when he registered the awful truth: He was small. And not just small like a human, oh no. Much smaller—insignificant, infinitesimal, virtually microscopic. He was about the size of a single tooth in that mocking grin that seemed to stretch into infinity. The smile widened and the white blocks of bone came apart to show off the landscape of a moist pink tongue stretching into foreboding darkness.

Ronny didn’t get a chance to protest, or reason with his former boss, or even scream. He was quickly placed inside his mouth, sinking into the squishy, slimy tongue as the prison of teeth slammed shut around him. The tongue rolled underneath him like waves in a tumultuous sea, frothing with saliva. Mr. Hardon hummed in his throat, a sound that rumbled like thunder all around Ronny. The inside of the mouth was bigger than his living room, and far less pleasant: warm, wet, and putrid. 

Ronny whined pitiably with fright as his mind grasped what was happening. This wasn’t how he wanted to die, to be reduced to nothing but a crumb in the belly of his old boss. He regretted ever eating any humans or putting them in his mouth. He thought about how Candy and Tanya must have felt when he engulfed them in his jaws against their will, particularly when swallowing Tanya, and he wanted to cry. If he was swallowed now, it would be the end. He’d never see Tanya again. He’d never be able to tell her how sorry he was, or how much he loved her. 

By some miracle, the mouth around him opened, and two gigantic fingers grasped him and pulled him out. He fell and landed in Mr. Hardon’s open palm, wet and shivering. Mr. Hardon sniggered at him, his lips curling. Ronny huddled into a pathetic lump, hugging himself with shaking arms. 

“You won’t believe this, Ronny! You taste like coffee! Dark and bitter. Personally, I prefer my coffee a little sweeter than that,” Mr. Hardon boomed, making Ronny cringe. “Actually, the three of you would make a great pairing if you were more like hot chocolate. Leon would be the marshmallows and Candy would sweeten it all with caramel.” He slurped his lips with his big meaty tongue, and Ronny recoiled at the sight. 

“Anyways, Ronny, before I eat you, I have to inform you of what a lovely time I had in prison, thanks to you calling the cops on me!” He scowled, a paralyzing sight, and his tone dripped with sarcasm and hatred. “I really ought to do more to you, to show you my appreciation!” His lips, miles wide, curled into a vicious snarl. Ronny shuddered. 

The door handle jiggling on the outside made Mr. Hardon pause and turn his head. The door was locked, so whoever was trying to open the door couldn’t get inside. Both Candy and Leon shouted for help from the surface of the desk, making Mr. Hardon shoot daggers at them to cow them into silence. Large fists banged on the door aggressively. 

“Whoever that is, he won’t be able to get in,” Mr. Hardon scoffed smugly. He directed his attention back to the shrunken man in his palm, no larger than a pill. “Say goodbye, Ronny.” He popped Ronny back into his mouth and swallowed him whole, without hesitation. Ronny, swimming in a bath of saliva in his mouth, was sucked into his gigantic gullet and found himself plunging down his tightening throat like a dark waterslide. Ronny let out a piercing scream as he dropped down the seemingly endless, hot, fleshy tube. He splashed into a gurgling, sweltering sack of living meat and realized he was going to die. Candy cried out in alarm. 

“You’re next, Candy!” Mr. Hardon shouted, grabbing her off the desk. She screamed, knowing the savage Giant was hungry for revenge. The beating from the other side of the door became frantic. 

“Let me in!” Martin’s voice bellowed. With a monumental crash, he finally succeeded in breaking down the door and stormed into the room. “Candy!” 

“He ate Ronny!” she wailed. Martin rushed forward to rescue Candy and attacked Mr. Hardon, gripping his wrist so tightly that a bone in his arm snapped. Mr. Hardon cursed venomously. Martin, as a bigger Giant, was able to overpower the man and wrenched Candy out of his hand, quickly depositing her on the desk so she wouldn’t be harmed in the scuffle.  

“Give him one of those pills! They’re in his pants pocket!” Leon yelled. Martin snaked his hand into Hardon’s pocket and snagged the pill bottle. Hardon, grimacing in pain, spat in his face. Martin shoved him to the ground, fumbled with the bottle to open it, and stuffed a pill into his jaws. He pushed up forcibly on his chin, stretching out his neck and making him swallow. Hardon coughed, pushing fruitlessly against Martin’s hulking mass that glued him to the floor. 

“No!” he snarled, but his facial expression changed when he felt a burning in his gut that made his insides convulse. He turned his head to the side, coughing as a small object ascended in his throat, and burped, spitting out whatever the thing was. Martin looked on, stunned, as he watched the Giant start to shrink down. The huge body he had pinned beneath him crumbled in on itself, leaving only the man’s empty clothes where pillars of flesh had once been. His old boss shrank until he disappeared into a puny lump inside his shirt. Martin, still on his hands and knees, stared with incredulity at the little bump in the fabric that had once been a Giant. He couldn’t believe what his own eyes had just witnessed; it seemed impossible. 

Mr. Hardon didn’t know that Candy had her cellphone with her the whole time. Now that she could afford her phone bills, and didn’t have to wear the skimpy office clothes without pockets that Mr. Hardon had insisted upon when he was boss, she was always careful to keep her phone on her person, just in case. While Mr. Hardon was distracted tormenting Leon and Ronny, she frantically called and texted Martin for help. As soon as he spotted the texts, her Giant boyfriend sprang into action. Thus, he already knew about the pills and the whole situation before he arrived at the boss’s office. 

Martin poked at the living mass in the shirt, making it jump in surprise. He rummaged under the fabric, collected the warm body in his hand, and pulled out a very frightened, and very small, Mr. Hardon. Like Leon, he was larger than human size, perhaps around nine feet tall, but he still fit snugly in Martin’s massive hand. 

Martin glowered at the shrunken man, causing him to cower. He hadn’t thought through what to do next and considered his options. He gazed down at his girlfriend and the miniature version of Leon, covered in food remnants from the sandwich. “Are you guys alright?” 

“Yes… but…” Candy sputtered. “What about Ronny?” Martin’s eyes widened. He looked down at Mr. Hardon again, but recognized that he was too small to have another man in his stomach. He recalled seeing him burp up something before he shrank and examined the floor around his feet. At first, he saw a moving speck that he thought was nothing more than a bug, until he noticed the living creature had the skin tone of a man. Carefully, he dropped to his knees to take a closer peek, wrapping his fingers around Mr. Hardon into a secure fist so he couldn’t sneak away. The little thing on the ground was vibrating violently.  

Martin squinted, bringing his face in closer to see better. He was absolutely flabbergasted to see the tiny creature was, in fact, Ronny, but shrunken down to the size of one of Martin’s fingernails. Ronny was huddled up into a tiny ball, senseless with distress. Martin had no love whatsoever for this man, but despite this fact he still felt a pang of sympathy for the agony he must be enduring. He needed to get him off the floor so he wouldn’t inadvertently step on him. He reached out with his free hand and with the upmost gentleness tried to pick him up between his finger and thumb. Ronny squeaked with fright at his touch and leapt to his feet.  

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Martin reassured him, keeping his voice low and soothing. Ronny gazed up at the massive, yet familiar, face with terror. Just because the two had made amends didn’t mean he wasn’t afraid of what Martin was capable of.  

“Trust me, I won’t hurt you,” Martin murmured, offering his hand. “You can’t stay on the floor like this. I might step on you by mistake.” Ronny shuddered at the thought and stared at Martin’s hand. Even with it laying flat on the floor, the edge of his hand was taller than his current height. He trembled. 

However, as bitter as Ronny had been toward Martin, he understood his Giant coworker well enough to know he was soft. Martin was a very kind and gentle man, and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Or a man the size of a fly. With a huff, Ronny made his decision and struggled to clamber up into Martin’s hand. He traveled to the dip in the center and flopped down, crossing his arms. To Ronny, the Giant hand felt as big as a studio apartment. He was ashamed, small and naked and slippery with digestive juices as he was. 

His stomach dropped as Martin returned to his full, staggering height and allowed him to dismount onto the desk. Ronny kept his head down as he walked to the edge of Martin’s spacious hand and slid down the side, looking down at the huge feet of the other two people stretching above him on the desk. He hated to think that he was smaller than even a human. He felt useless and insignificant.  

“Ronny… was that true? What Mr. Hardon said?” Candy questioned.  

Ronny furrowed his brow and finally forced himself to look up at her, puzzled. It was surreal, seeing the diminutive woman, who could normally fit easily into his hand, so tall above him, at such an angle. In his current state, his whole body measured about a foot, so his head didn’t even reach her knee. “Huh?” He didn’t understand what she was talking about. 

She crouched down to his level and gripped his shoulders in earnest with her uncomfortably large hands. “Were you the one that called the police? When Mr. Hardon tried to kidnap me?” She looked at him intensely. Ronny drank in the details of her face that were normally too small for him to see, now blown up and oversized. He had never noticed before that Candy had blue eyes. He was discomfited by this observation. 

“Y-yeah…” he admitted. He never wanted to tell Candy the truth, perhaps because he was ashamed of himself and didn’t feel right about it: He didn’t deserve any sort of thanks or praise. He did the only thing that any sensible person would do, even though it took him too long to make the right choice. 

“Ronny… I never knew… thank you…” Overcome, she gave Ronny a big hug. He stood there stiffly but felt pink tint his cheeks as he was pressed up to her gigantic, buxom chest. He felt all the more awkward, being filthy and naked, but Candy with her simple, innocent soul didn’t seem to notice or care. Even so, her gratitude warmed his heart. 

While Ronny and Candy were talking, Martin was distracted by Mr. Hardon. He clenched his fist around the man, feeling rage boil in his guts as he thought about all the horrible abuses he had inflicted upon Candy. Mr. Hardon glared back defiantly. 

“How did you get out of prison?” Martin growled. 

Mr. Hardon, despite his vulnerable position, smirked. “I’m a wealthy and privileged man, Martin. Men like me, at the top of the food chain, don’t have to follow the same rules as the plebeians we step on every day. I’m immune.” 

Mr. Hardon knew Martin well. He knew that Martin was a gentle Giant, who disliked hurting anyone smaller and weaker than himself. He was betting that Martin would spare him, despite finding him beyond repulsive. He’d weather the storm, return to his normal size, and go back to doing whatever he wanted, without consequences, impervious to the law and shielded by the company. He gave Martin a smug grin, assured in his blatant narcissism that he was untouchable, even when shrunk. 

Mr. Hardon was wrong, horribly wrong. Martin was gentle, but he would do anything to protect Candy. And the miniaturized Giant in his hand was a huge threat. Martin realized, if the law was not on his side, he would have to take matters into his own hands, as ugly and distasteful as it may be. He knew, as long as Hardon was alive and free, he wouldn’t leave Candy alone, and he’d continue to propagate evil. He needed to eliminate this man, while he had the chance, for Candy’s safety. 

He glanced down at the desk again, at the three tiny people of various sizes. Hardon had swallowed Ronny entirely, and almost ate Leon in a sandwich. He undoubtedly would’ve eaten Candy too. Black fury inflamed his heart. Hardon deserved just as brutal of an end. Martin picked up the sandwich that was on the desk and regarded it pensively. Mr. Hardon paled. 

“W-what are you doing with that?” he asked nervously. Martin didn’t answer him. He opened the sandwich, and Hardon thrashed in horror as he realized what Martin was planning to do. “W-w-wait a second, Martin, let’s talk about this!” Martin ignored his pleas and stuffed him into the sandwich, clamping the slices of bread together so just his head was sticking out. “No, stop!” 

“You wouldn’t have spared Leon, or Ronny, or Candy, or anybody else,” Martin observed coldly. “Why should I spare you?”  

Mr. Hardon bit his lip, at a loss for words. “Um…” Martin opened his mouth wide, strings of drool trailing from his molars. “NO!! NO NO NO NO-” the old boss screamed as his head disappeared into Martin’s mouth. Martin bit down level with his shoulder blades, cutting off his exclamations. His teeth crunched clear through the skin, bones, and flesh. A burst of blood erupted onto his tongue and the squishy sacks that comprised the man’s organs spilled out of his smashed chest. Martin chewed, cracking his skull and mashing the mouthful into a pulp before swallowing. Even though Hardon was dead, Martin continued to eat the rest of the sandwich. He finished it in a few bites, blood running down his lips and chin. He casually grabbed a napkin from the plastic bag and wiped the crimson streams off his face. 

Ronny, Candy, and Leon all stared on in horror. Martin gazed down at them and flushed with embarrassment. “S-sorry you had to witness that,” he stammered. After some hesitation, he added, “I’m—um—not normally the type to do something like that, but it was necessary in this case… plus, you know, I’m a Maneater by blood… it comes naturally to me…” He gulped.  

The other three continued to gape. Candy was appalled, never guessing her boyfriend was capable of such a deed, but she had to admit to herself she was relieved that Mr. Hardon was gone. She would never have to fear him sneaking up behind her, plucking her off her desk, carrying her into his office, eating her, toying with her, sticking her in his pants. She could finally feel safe at work. She had to concede, too, that the end was fitting for such an evil man who consumed others, to be consumed himself. He deserved a bloody, violent death for his odious crimes. 

“Oh! Ronny, we need to get you cleaned up before that stomach acid burns your skin,” Martin remarked. He reached out a Giant hand smeared with blood to grab him. Tiny Ronny flinched at the sight. Martin curled his fingers back and retreated, a pained expression on his face. 

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, cleaning off his bloodstained hand with another napkin. “Better?” He placed his hand level with the side of the desk, so Ronny could hop into his palm without having to climb. Ronny gulped but dropped into his hand, sliding down into the dip in the center. Martin lifted his hand with a slow, fluid movement. 

“I’ll be right back,” he assured Candy and Leon, stepping out of the office and closing the door behind him. He rubbed a drop of blood off his lower lip with the back of his free hand and sighed. He felt like a monster. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but Mr. Hardon had tasted surprisingly good. He was flavored like salami—perfect for a sandwich. 

Chapter 36

Chapter 1

[bikowolf]

Weiß

RWBY Volume 9 Episode 1. After years of waiting I finally get to see what the hell they've been up to all this time with referrals and layoffs... On Crunchy Roll... Ok, I can take that. Let's talk about the episode and not my thoughts on the SERIOUS situation at Rooster Teeth. The episode starts with Ruby who takes several minutes to open her eyes skipping entire events of the story of Volume 8, sorry for the obvious joke but this shows why Ruby is a bit pitiful as a fighter and as a leader ... because turns off the brain 90% of the time. Then we get to the "new world" where everything seems so "strange" and "unique"...and then we get to the first problem of writing RWBY which is "They are not human" or at least "They don't look human-like", let me explain: Ruby's scene where she insists on reaching the tree is taken from the Matrix 3 scene (if I remember correctly) where Neo, in the train tunnel, tries to run forward and then find himself at the starting point, this creates the sensation block, loop, from which the protagonist must escape; In Ruby there is the same idea but with a small problem, she finds herself in an open field, so it means that she (instead of changing course) insists on going forward. I don't think I have to explain the concept of "roam" or "explore" do I? And after several tries she curls up and cries… So IT DOESN'T CHANGE WAY. Ruby acts as if she is in a tunnel, as if she has been programmed to do that action, without asking herself: Maybe I could go left or right? Thus creating the problem of "Oh no, I'm stuck in a loop" and then finding a solution (which would have obviously taken time in this ""anime"" of 17:00 minutes TOTAL!). Ruby finally talks to Little, and thanks to the writers' favorite friend called Deus Ex Machina, they get out of this situation. We then move on to Weiss + Blake where they find Blake's weapon in a set of roots. We are in the second scene in which the characters do not act as human beings but as "robots who have to do the imposed thing": They don't climb the roots (which are demonstrably climbable) and find that they are self-propelled and thus get trapped by them... Blake pulls the root; Weiss launches two slashes to be already tired ( Huntresses = 10/10); Blake climbs a freaking tree to reach the implanted sword; WHAT THE HELL! So the roots kidnap the two, and Ruby saves the day thanks to Little convincing the other mice that they're "food carriers"? We don't wonder too much about this anyway, there's no time, so they immediately runs towards Yang. Yang faces scary little monster with PING problems, or that's what the context led me to believe: The monster was "searching", finds Ruby, Blake and Weiss and prepares for battle, then Yang comes and becomes a 4 on 1 and the monster runs away in fear. Evidently it's a bot programmed like this: If "enemies" less than or equal to x=3 then "fight" else "run". I know that as speech is stupid or cringe, but that's what I perceive when I see these "action" scenes so lacking in pathos. The monster runs away at the exact moment an amputee girl shows up to him, tired and "wounded" (when will there be injured character models?), while he remains to fight two girls who are at full strength and are also armed . It makes no sense and is not natural. "lesbo moment" between Yang and Blake (Ruby instead is a marble statue towards her sister suffering from her ... But we are used to this lack of humanity by now). Then Ruby passes out, because she learns of Penny's death, falling of TEMPLE on the ground (people die falling so bad). So the girls sit next to her helpless body and talk gossip… Not even one wondering if Ruby is okay, or if she has a brain injury… no. Again lack of humanity (ONLY JAUNE HAS THE FEELINGS!). So it ends like this… With them seeing that they are in the Alice in Wonderland universe. - Opening HORRIBLE! We have Jaune and Neo put in front of the beginning at the end in the center, but yeah, it's about Jaune. It's always been about Jaune. RWBY stands for: Red White Black Yellow, Jaune's 4 favorite colors, SO THE STORY IS ABOUT JAUNE! How disgusting. I hate Jaune for this, and let me be clear: You are free to love him as much as you want, this is MY opinion, when I say Jaune sucks I'm not saying YOU suck, okay? My predictions? Jaune will go into edge lord mode because Ironwood became famous for it (only Ironwood was more chad while Jaune is just cringe) and he will be Neo's minion. So Weiss will either save him, or not, but still he will become the knight Weiss summons to fight. My final opinion. The eternal one, which will be present regardless of how volume 9 goes on... It will hardly change. This is not a story that can be considered good for the progression of the story itself. Would the idea have been good for a movie? Yes. What will change to the RWBY team in this arc? Nothing. Because Jaune has always been a parasite of this story, and now that he's grown up he blossoms out of the girls' empty bodies. We have to travel all over the world to solve the Salem problem, but instead that black hole Jaune sucks all the characters into the void and into her world. Watch the anime, this will make you understand the key concept of a story WITHOUT A SELF INSERT! Albeit cheesy even if itself poorly written, but still about the RWBY team. Jaune is a self insert because even when team RWBY falls into an alternate dimension, Jaune has to find a way to get in the way: Without team JNR. Think about this. Jaune, in theory, is a character related to team JNR ... he has nothing to do with team RWBY, stop it. He has everything, everything. I don't want to draw it and I never will! He already has too much. Team RWBY deserves fan art and fan fic (well written) without that self insert.

Posted using PostyBirb

[ecofinisher]

Amor Infinito (A Snow Queen fanfic)

Chapter 1

Magicians have lived among us for decades hiding their true nature in order to remain alive and live peacefully. A few magicians under them had tried to create a better world with their magic in order to create peace. The Snow Queen, The Fire King, Loki, Hercules, Mavka, the Sandman, Saint Nicklaus, and other mythically inspired beings have taken that chance to do so, in both good and bad ways. The most recent one is the Snow Queen, once considered the most powerful magician. To be correct, she still is it. De facto, the only thing, that weakened her powers was a specific hand mirror. The hand mirror, that was created by another powerful magician under the name Vegard. 

The world took another spin on the day, his daughter found out her brother was alive and she went by herself accompanied by a minion of the queen to look for the boy. By the end, the little girl was really capable to catch the Snow Queen and send her into the mirrorlands to stop the eternal frost the sorcerer created years ago. Some humans had this bad view of magicians since the Snow Queen’s deed and one day King Harald worked on a plan to lock up all magicians in the world of the mirrorlands. To his surprise, the same girl defeated Harald as well, which to his surprise turned out to be a magician as well! Even less the girl under the name Gerda had help of a human boy, Rollan. It was thanks to him, the girl gained again force to fight for the freedom of her family and magicians. The better, her magic had gotten active at the right moment to help her take down King Harald’s powerful invention. Between Gerda and King Harald a promise was made. He apologized to everyone for what he had done and confessed, that magicians have the right to live among humans as well, despite having that one difference. The gift. Gerda learned more about herself and the issue, that happened to Rollan in the past couldn’t be changed, but he learned to let it go and so did Gerda. The two accepted it and became friends. Gerda was just as the day she met him attracted to the raven-haired and Rollan…..well, he was willing to die for the girl in order to save her family. Gerda appreciated it, despite it if she had to say farewell to him, things would have been bad in some way. Rollan accepted Gerda’s friendship and went with the flow, waiting for the moment the girl would be able to see in him something more than he was at that moment. Months had passed and Rollan heard from the trolls his mother was worried about him. That’s when Rollan thought about leaving the place to return back to his mother. He promised Gerda, when he could he would return and thought about confessing his love for her on the day of the departure. Tragically Rollan on purpose didn’t do that. He didn’t fear being rejected or being laughed at. No, Gerda would never laugh at him. In fact, she respected him and understood his feelings of being hurt or treated as a joke, when you want to help in something. He avoided confessing to her, cause he believed it was the wrong moment. It was too early to do anything, after everything he had done. It partially wasn’t his fault, but the Fire Demon in his body. Major things he had done or said during the curse of the wishing stone felt to him like things, that would need time to vanish or even not. He simply left Gerda back with one long embrace. He promised her to respond to her letters, which she offered to make to hear how he was doing. Rollan and Gerda’s friendship turned into a pen pal friendship from that day on, this letting their relationship live on from black ink on paper.

Months had passed, both sides had gotten busy with their lives and fewer letters came until one time Gerda didn’t seem to send Rollan any letter, saddening the boy, which assumed he must have turned a burden for the blonde. Within that time, Rollan receives one last letter from Gerda, thus bringing the Spaniard a new surprise. The girl was actually engaged with someone else! This was the last thing he expected to hear from her, but he accepted it. He knew and felt, that a girl like Gerda deserved someone else, rather than Rollan. This is, at least Rollan’s thoughts…..well the negative thoughts. Fate does know every place and puzzle in the world and brought Rollan back to Gerda’s sight again, cause both had belonged together.

Then why is Gerda engaged to someone else and Rollan is not doing anything about it? Sometimes happy endings take a different road. Some roads are straight, others have curves, road junctions, and road signs. Their love story has never stopped to what it seemed to the two. In reality, their path continued, just they didn’t expect in which way it was about to go……

Rollan was now 22 years old, with 17 he had left Spain to meet the trolls in the troll kingdom hoping to find the wishing stone. The trip had turned his life upside down. Everything he remembered to have witnessed there had fascinated and scared Rollan’s mother. Rollan wasn’t able to leave her mother for a longer period of time again, so he stood in her home until he finished his professional education at the guard academy. Throughout that time, Rollan slowly had an interest in visiting his friends on the other side of the continent. If he had the chance he would go up anyway, but he would be there for a couple of weeks only, rather than a longer period. He had been gone for years, all the people's live there have changed. Gerda’s too. He knows very well if he wanted to confess to her, that his feelings about her didn’t vanish at all, mostly due to the two being communicative with each other with cards. It would feel weird to say her that. Eventually, it wouldn’t, but he can’t take out that possibility. Right now, since her last letter Rollan knows she’s engaged. Rollan doesn’t know who the guy is. She has never mentioned him in any of the other letters. Perhaps he was the reason she barely wrote him anymore? She was working on their relationship and well, things around her or both of them were changing. Rollan now was out of her league or how he felt since his issue. Always. The only thing he knows about that guy was, that his name was Mars and that he was a sort of magician as well. A Chinese-Australian man, that according to her was from a prestigious family of magicians, which had an invention shop. Rollan was actually curious about the guy, cause for the inventing part it made him think of King Harald, that one king, that was a fanatic about science and inventing. Who knows, the world was evolving, things were getting better, new sorts of vehicles were improved, and new inventions appeared on the market. The last thing, that Rollan remembered to have seen was a polaroid. It would take a specific scenario from real life and print it on a piece of paper. Usually, a painter would be painting that on canvas for hours and with that apparatus…...you’ve got it in seconds! Quite fascinating.

Rollan had borrowed one of them for his attendance on the last day at guard academy, which a friend of his used to take a picture of him and his mother together. That picture hung inside the living room of his mom on a wall.

Rollan stood inside the living room, looking at that image of himself with the mother. From the kitchen stepped out his mother, which looked for her son and noticed him looking at the image. The woman smiled and walked past the man, then placed her hand on his shoulder to kiss him on his cheek.

“Que pasa hijo?” Questioned the mother watching Rollan shrug his shoulders.

“Yo no sei. I’m not sure, how I’m supposed to feel about this,”

“You have finished your education and you’re going to be one of the guards here in Alicante. You should be proud of it,” Stated the mother making Rollan nod.

“Si…...I just feel something is missing like my life isn’t complete,” Said Rollan making the mother frown sadly, knowing it was a lovesickness bothering her son.

“Perhaps you need to stop answering your friend’s letters or simply tell her how you feel and receive an actual answer from her. As long as you don’t know the real answer you won’t get her out of your head,” Commented the mother. “Déjala ir,”

“Como?”

“If you keep holding on to something you know you can’t have, no matter how much you love it…...let it go. Trust me, that will make you feel better someday. Not today nor next week, but it will be fast, I promise,” Commented Rollan’s mother making the son nod.

Someone knocked on the door, calling their attention and Rollan walked towards the door to open it to see a man around his height with a shaved head and black pants, a green shirt, and a few envelopes in his hands.

“Buenas Tardes Leticia, Hola Rollan,” Greeted the Spaniard watching the sad Rollan wave at the friend, while Rollan’s mom smiled.

“Oye Pastor. Como estas?” Questioned Leticia making the man smile.

“Muy bien,” Responded Pastor. “Rollan, my neighbor Rodrigo had two letters here with your name. I just came here to pass them to you,” Commented the raven-haired man handing them out to Rollan to see one of the letters was from the academy and the second one had a Northern address with Gerda’s name on it. Rollan looked at the letter with a sad face, which made Pastor along with Leticia exchange sad looks.

“Amigo. There are many other women in the world. If you want we can go to the festival at the beach next weekend and you’ll get to meet a few women. What do you say?” Questioned Pastor watching Rollan shake his head.

“One woman is enough. I’m not looking for games as you do,” Responded Rollan sad making Pastor chuckle.

“Alright, but you could get to know somebody and I don’t know…...get to know her?” Suggested Pastor watching Rollan open the letter to see it was an official wedding invitation to Gerda’s wedding. “You're hereby invited to attend the ceremony of Gerda and Mars at the church of St. Peter…..expecting a response until…..they forgot the date,” Commented Pastor showing Rollan the letter, which shrugged his shoulders. “Do you plan to go there?”

“I don’t know,” Responded Rollan. “I’ve been thinking about going there some time by the end of my education,”

“Which you have reached already,”

“Si…...I don’t know. I had thought about visiting Gerda and hang out with her. Eventually hoping on something coming out for both of us,”

“You can still do that, except you’re not going to romantically progress with her due to the engagement. But you as a good friend of hers, you can show her how much her friendship means to you and I don’t know….you both remain as friends. That’s…...good too,” Mumbled Pastor knowing very well, it wouldn’t work out for everyone. “I have an idea for you. We two go there together, stay there until the wedding is over, so you have time to get to know the Gerda she is now and eventually who that guy is,”

“You know, I really want the best for her. That she’s happy and treated well. I just…...well…..”

“Thought you could be that guy?” Questioned Pastor making Rollan nod.

“Si,” Responded Rollan, then Pastor passed his hand on the friend’s shoulder.

“Put your head up, amigo. You still have her friendship. That’s something no one can take away,” Said the short-haired man making Rollan nod with a pout. “Get in. I know somebody, that can help us get a cheaper flight for us to go visit your friend. I just need to call him,”

“Us?”

“Yes, I’m going as a good friend,” Commented Pastor. “Maybe I’ll find on my way some Scandinavian chick,” Joked the Spaniard watching Rollan shake his head and got into the house, while Leticia glimpsed at the duo with a little smile.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"A favorite aunt, who grew up with the same kind of fundamentalist religious background as I and who is consequently gun-shy when it comes to religion generally, wrote me this week about some of her qualms. Specifically, she raised questions about a religion that"divides" people and families, as my beliefs, for example, divide me from many of my closest relatives who cling to the kind of faith in which I was raised.

I have written her that what divides us is not our religion,but our religions. We have two fundamentally different religions. In one, Jesus is historically a more or less passive figure, whose role was that of the lamb, sent as a preordained sacrifice to the slaughter. The function of the believer is belief. Salvation is an end in itself, and the relevance of religion to life is largely confined to certain aspects of personal morality and the alcoholic beverage industry.

The other—to which I hold—regards Jesus as the towering figure of history, who brought a conception of human values and relationships so revolutionary that the frightened rulers of his day put him to death. Under the circumstances it is not surprising that we are divided; it is only surprising that personal affection has kept the gap as narrow as it is. Jesus himself warned that he brought "division" that would extend even into families.

Last night I read again the short, simple, straightforward language of the Sermon on the Mount. Here is the whole essence of that revolutionary new concept; the rest of Jesus' life and words were devoted largely to clarifying the implications of the Sermon. And even that he summarizes in one terse sentence:

You must always treat others as you would like them to treat you, for this sums up the law and the prophets.

That is plain enough, and at first sight seems easy enough, but its implications are so enormous that the organized church ever since has wriggled and squirmed away from the need of confronting them. Apply the Sermon to race relations, and any form of discrimination or segregation, even in thought, becomes untenable. Apply it to the economic field, and our whole economic structure collapses before it; apply it in international relations, and wars would cease; apply it to prisons, and they would have to be emptied and torn down.

This was the heart of Jesus' teachings, yet how seldom one hears a sermon based on it. I have been to "church" practically every week since I have been in prison and not heard one. On the contrary, we have become so skillful at the business of stereotyping our faith that the words themselves have lost their meaning. Sunday evening I had to stop singing midway through the second verse of the hymn we were then engaged on, because I had realized suddenly what the words were saying:

Our fathers, chained in prisons dark Were still in heart and conscience free; How sweet would be their children's fate If they, like them, could die for thee!

I suppose I am in prison for my faith. I am not chained, and the prison is not particularly dark. I am still "in heart and conscience free," and there is an element of happiness in the belief that what I have done will contribute, somehow and some time, to the building of God's Kingdom. But I don't like being in here, even for a few months, and the words stuck in my throat when I tried to sing about the "sweetness" of dying for my faith. If the time should come, I hope I would have the courage to die if need be, but I doubt that I shall regard it as the most desirable possible fate!

And I could not help thinking of the millions of Christians who sing those terrible words every week, and have no more intention of living them than of living on the moon. Moreover—unhappily—it is only a Christianity whose adherents are willing to face that kind of suffering-if not to enjoy it—that can hope to make a dent in this very bad world. That we have not got more than a small nucleus of such a church, at best, is evident.

It is illuminating to see the almost universal attitude of contempt for religion held by the inmates here. They see the churches as a "racket": a sanctimonious sham designed principally to lull the discontent of the masses by a lot of nonsense about heaven while the minority in power enriches itself on earth. It is only living Christianity, exhibited in the attitude of individuals, that makes any impression whatever on these men. And that attitude is one of unselfish, concerned love, not of Bible-reading, or public prayers, or preaching."

- Alfred Hassler, Diary of a Self-Made Convict. Foreword by Harry Elmer Barnes. Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1954 (written 1944-1945), p. 134-136.

[major-knighton]

Akdjslfjs understandable. There are three dark-haired bewhiskered dudes in this show.

Anyway, let's do this. I rewatched the series and realized they do interact but never for a long time, but just long enough for Little to demonstrate himself the only officer somewhat capable of handling Hickey, or at least stand his ground against him, which is noteworthy bc Little's biggest character flaw is letting people walk all over him. That interaction is in Ep 6 when Hickey makes a dig at Crozier's "gastritis" and Little just kinda stares silently at him like he's a mouldy potato for a minute until Hickey leaves. Nothing spectacular but much better than Crozier, Hodgson or Irving have ever achieved with him. Just thought it was an interesting tidbit.

So, what makes me say they're mirroring/narrative foils is that one might say they're the two that get the most shit from Crozier. (Jopson has to put up with a lot but Crozier acknowledges him positively and Fitzjames gives as good as he gets). The first difference is obviously that Hickey classes very low in the hierarchy and Little is literally the second in command, most important man after Crozier himself. And yet! Crozier seems to occasionally forget that Little is like... A human being. Who shouldn't be sent out 4 times in a dangerous storm just to fetch him some whiskey without a please or a thank you (or at all) in Ep 5.

Hickey gets the violent bit of Crozier's disdain, with the lashing, Little gets the neglecting one.

So they'd have more or less equal reasons to mutiny out of spite, especially since Little was already effectively running the ship during Crozier's detox. The mutineers clearly thought so, seeing how Tozer makes two or three attempts to rope Little into the plot with decreasing subtlety. But Little doesn't give in or waver in his loyalty, he even tries to convince people to save Crozier after he's captured, and won't even let himself die until Crozier finds him again at the end. None of his resentment against the captain is ever expressed or exteriorized unless you count his perpetual sad face, bc as previously mentioned he lets himself get bullied pretty easily. So he's kind of a foil to Hickey, who obviously grows to hate Crozier more with every slight, be it real or perceived. They're the too extremes : too much resentment pushed past rationality and not enough.

This is where I find it fascinating that, despite not liking Hickey himself, Little is the one to come to his defense twice. First, in Punished As A Boy, he reminds Crozier that there's a procedure to follow before you can lash someone, and Crozier shoots it down. Tbh that is Little's role as First Lieutenant, to kinda keep the captain in check. But the second time, after Irving's murder, Little has a brief moment of growing a spine and questions Crozier's certainty that Hickey killed Irving, and even insists so much that Crozier threatens him too.

Hickey is a nobody who hoisted himself into the spotlight at any cost, Little should be second only to Crozier but is almost a non-entity. Hickey gives himself agency, somehow Little loses all of his very quickly.

And I'm thinking, why? Is it because Little knows how Crozier can be when he doesn't like someone, with or without reason? Because he feels like he must protect the men against Crozier's anger? Does he feel a bit of pity/sympathy for Hickey? Or not trust Crozier's judgement? It's so weird trying to reconcile that with his unwavering loyalty for the man.

(I'm tempted to go for the second option, because as much of a doormat as he is for himself, the few times we see Little oppose Crozier are to defend someone else - Hickey but also Silna)

And then, there's the fact that while he corrupts Hodgson and stabs Irving, Hickey never directly tries anything with the first lieutenant (lesson learned from their almost-wordless face-to-face in Ep 6?) and when it comes to confronting him over the armory, he delegates to Tozer instead. Which is weird, bc surely the abuse of one Very Tired Edward Little would not be a secret for Hickey, why would he not even attempt to use it to his advantage? One gets the feeling that they are, on some level, almost aware of their mirroring each other, and give each other a wide berth bc neither of them like what they see.

But what wouldn't I have given for a full conversation between these two. About Crozier. About loyalty. About responsibility. About self-esteem. About clemency. About privilege, too. And above all about the choices that they made, or were unable to make, that led to them being where they ended.

Sorry I can't word this coherently but your Hickey and Crozier meta is always fire so. I think I noticed a strange, very discreet mirror situation going on between Hickey and Little.

My first point of reference was that there are several instances where Crozier is planning to punish Hickey and Little is like uh sir he does have rights there's a procedure here ("a full court martial is required" |"what evidence do we have against him?") and it made me think how Hickey is actively leading the rebellion amongst the various men who feel wronged or abused by Crozier, and that he gets on it basically the moment Crozier hurts him

And then Little gets treated like absolute shit by Crozier almost the whole time and he never wavers in his loyalty, even when Tozer is outright calling it all out during the mutiny. He even wants to go rescue Crozier from the mutineers and holds off dying until he is sure Crozier is still alive

And like. It kills me that they never interact? Bc I feel like they could've had a really interesting conversation? The fact that Little is the only officer who tried to kinda defend Hickey but also the one who opposed him the most in terms of their relationship to Crozier?

Idk man I'd love to hear your thoughts

i'm so sorry man, this seems really well thought out on your part. but i don't remember which one little is.

[neil-gaiman]

How Did you come up with the first eve in the story about adams wives? I haven’t been able to find anything about her after I read it and I want to know if she’s an actual biblical character or just someone you made

She's from the Midrash. I learned about her as a 12 year old, from my barmitzvah teacher. There was a point in there, long after I'd put her into Sandman, where I was starting to think I'd imagined her, when I ran across her in Robert Graves's Hebrew Myths....

Excerpt from: The Hebrew Myths by Robert Graves and Raphael Patai (New York:  Doubleday, 1964), pp 65-69

Chapter 10: Adam's Helpmeets

(a) Having decided to give Adam a helpmeet lest he should be alone of his kind, God put him into a deep sleep, removed one of his ribs, formed it into a woman, and closed up the wound, Adam awoke and said: 'This being shall be named "Woman", because she has been taken out of man. A man and a woman shall be one flesh.' The title he gave her was Eve, 'the Mother of All Living''. [1]

(b) Some say that God created man and woman in His own image on the Sixth Day, giving them charge over the world; [2]  but that Eve did not yet exist. Now, God had set Adam to name every beast, bird and other living thing. When they passed before him in pairs, male and female, Adam-being already like a twenty-year-old man-felt jealous of their loves, and though he tried coupling with each female in turn, found no satisfaction in the act. He therefore cried: 'Every creature but I has a proper mate', and prayed God would remedy this injustice. [3]

(c) God then formed Lilith, the first woman, just as He had formed Adam, except that He used filth and sediment instead of pure dust. From Adam's union with this demoness, and with another like her named Naamah, Tubal Cain's sister, sprang Asmodeus and innumerable demons that still plague mankind. Many generations later, Lilith and Naamah came to Solomon's judgement seat, disguised as harlots of Jerusalem'. [4]

(d) Adam and Lilith never found peace together; for when he wished to lie with her, she took offence at the recumbent posture he demanded. 'Why must I lie beneath you?' she asked. 'I also was made from dust, and am therefore your equal.' Because Adam tried to compel her obedience by force, Lilith, in a rage, uttered the magic name of God, rose into the air and left him.

Adam complained to God: 'I have been deserted by my helpmeet' God at once sent the angels Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof to fetch Lilith back. They found her beside the Red Sea, a region abounding in lascivious demons, to whom she bore lilim at the rate of more than one hundred a day. 'Return to Adam without delay,' the angels said, `or we will drown you!' Lilith asked: `How can I return to Adam and live like an honest housewife, after my stay beside the Red Sea?? 'It will be death to refuse!' they answered. `How can I die,' Lilith asked again, `when God has ordered me to take charge of all newborn children: boys up to the eighth day of life, that of circumcision; girls up to the twentieth day. None the less, if ever I see your three names or likenesses displayed in an amulet above a newborn child, I promise to spare it.' To this they agreed; but God punished Lilith by making one hundred of her demon children perish daily; [5] and if she could not destroy a human infant, because of the angelic amulet, she would spitefully turn against her own. [6]

(e) Some say that Lilith ruled as queen in Zmargad, and again in Sheba; and was the demoness who destroyed job's sons. [7] Yet she escaped the curse of death which overtook Adam, since they had parted long before the Fall. Lilith and Naamah not only strangle infants but also seduce dreaming men, any one of whom, sleeping alone, may become their victim. [8]

(f) Undismayed by His failure to give Adam a suitable helpmeet, God tried again, and let him watch while he built up a woman's anatomy: using bones, tissues, muscles, blood and glandular secretions, then covering the whole with skin and adding tufts of hair in places. The sight caused Adam such disgust that even when this woman, the First Eve, stood there in her full beauty, he felt an invincible repugnance. God knew that He had failed once more, and took the First Eve away. Where she went, nobody knows for certain. [9]

(g) God tried a third time, and acted more circumspectly. Having taken a rib from Adam's side in his sleep, He formed it into a woman; then plaited her hair and adorned her, like a bride, with twenty-four pieces of jewellery, before waking him. Adam was entranced. [10]

(h) Some say that God created Eve not from Adam's rib, but from a tail ending in a sting which had been part of his body. God cut this off, and the stump-now a useless coccyx-is still carried by Adam's descendants. [11]

(i) Others say that God's original thought had been to create two human beings, male and female; but instead He designed a single one with a male face looking forward, and a female face looking back. Again He changed His mind, removed Adam's backward-looking face, and built a woman's body for it. [12]

(j) Still others hold that Adam was originally created as an androgyne of male and female bodies joined back to back. Since this posture made locomotion difficult, and conversation awkward, God divided the androgyne and gave each half a new rear. These separate beings He placed in Eden, forbidding them to couple. [13]

Notes on sources:

1. Genesis II. 18-25; III. 20.

2. Genesis I. 26-28.

3. Gen. Rab. 17.4; B. Yebamot 632.

4. Yalqut Reubeni ad. Gen. II. 21; IV. 8.

5. Alpha Beta diBen Sira, 47; Gaster, MGWJ, 29 (1880), 553 ff.

6. Num. Rab. 16.25.

7. Targum ad job 1. 15.

8. B. Shabbat 151b; Ginzberg, LJ, V. 147-48.

9. Gen. Rab. 158, 163-64; Mid. Abkir 133, 135; Abot diR. Nathan 24; B. Sanhedrin 39a.

10. Gen. II. 21-22; Gen. Rab. 161.

11. Gen. Rab. 134; B. Erubin 18a.

12. B. Erubin 18a.

13. Gen. Rab. 55; Lev. Rab. 14.1: Abot diR. Nathan 1.8; B. Berakhot 61a; B. Erubin 18a; Tanhuma Tazri'a 1; Yalchut Gen. 20; Tanh. Buber iii.33; Mid. Tehillim 139, 529.

Authors’ Comments on the Myth:

1. The tradition that man's first sexual intercourse was with animals, not women, may be due to the widely spread practice of bestiality among herdsmen of the Middle East, which is still condoned by custom, although figuring three times in the Pentateuch as a capital crime. In the Akkadian Gilgamesh Epic, Enkidu is said to have lived with gazelles and jostled other wild beasts at the watering place, until civilized by Aruru's priestess. Having enjoyed her embraces for six days and seven nights, he wished to rejoin the wild beasts but, to his surprise, they fled from him. Enkidu then knew that he had gained understanding, and the priestess said: 'Thou art wise, Enkidu, like unto a godl'

2. Primeval man was held by the Babylonians to have been androgynous. Thus the Gilgamesh Epic gives Enkidu androgynous features: `the hair of his head like a woman's, with locks that sprout like those of Nisaba, the Grain-goddess.' The Hebrew tradition evidently derives from Greek sources, because both terms used in a Tannaitic midrash to describe the bisexual Adam are Greek: androgynos, 'man-woman', and diprosopon, 'twofaced'. Philo of Alexandria, the Hellenistic philosopher and commentator on the Bible, contemporary with Jesus, held that man was at first bisexual; so did the Gnostics. This belief is clearly borrowed from Plato. Yet the myth of two bodies placed back to back may well have been founded on observation of Siamese twins, which are sometimes joined in this awkward manner. The two-faced Adam appears to be a fancy derived from coins or statues of Janus, the Roman New Year god.

3. Divergences between the Creation myths of Genesis r and n, which allow Lilith to be presumed as Adam's first mate, result from a careless weaving together of an early Judaean and a late priestly tradition. The older version contains the rib incident. Lilith typifies the Anath-worshipping Canaanite women, who were permitted pre-nuptial promiscuity. Time after time the prophets denounced Israelite women for following Canaanite practices; at first, apparently, with the priests' approval-since their habit of dedicating to God the fees thus earned is expressly forbidden in Deuteronomy xxIII. I8. Lilith's flight to the Red Sea recalls the ancient Hebrew view that water attracts demons. 'Tortured and rebellious demons' also found safe harbourage in Egypt. Thus Asmodeus, who had strangled Sarah's first six husbands, fled 'to the uttermost parts of Egypt' (Tobit viii. 3), when Tobias burned the heart and liver of a fish on their wedding night.

4. Lilith's bargain with the angels has its ritual counterpart in an apotropaic rite once performed in many Jewish communities. To protect the newborn child against Lilith-and especially a male, until he could be permanently safeguarded by circumcision-a ring was drawn with natron, or charcoal, on the wall of the birthroom, and inside it were written the words: 'Adam and Eve. Out, Lilith!' Also the names Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof (meanings uncertain) were inscribed on the door. If Lilith nevertheless succeeded in approaching the child and fondling him, he would laugh in his sleep. To avert danger, it was held wise to strike the sleeping child's lips with one finger-whereupon Lilith would vanish.

5. 'Lilith' is usually derived from the Babylonian-Assyrian word lilitu, ,a female demon, or wind-spirit'-one of a triad mentioned in Babylonian spells. But she appears earlier as 'Lillake' on a 2000 B.G. Sumerian tablet from Ur containing the tale of Gilgamesh and the Willow Tree. There she is a demoness dwelling in the trunk of a willow-tree tended by the Goddess Inanna (Anath) on the banks of the Euphrates. Popular Hebrew etymology seems to have derived 'Lilith' from layil, 'night'; and she therefore often appears as a hairy night-monster, as she also does in Arabian folklore. Solomon suspected the Queen of Sheba of being Lilith, because she had hairy legs. His judgement on the two harlots is recorded in I Kings III. 16 ff. According to Isaiah xxxiv. I4-I5, Lilith dwells among the desolate ruins in the Edomite Desert where satyrs (se'ir), reems, pelicans, owls, jackals, ostriches, arrow-snakes and kites keep her company.

6. Lilith's children are called lilim. In the Targum Yerushalmi, the priestly blessing of Numbers vi. 26 becomes: 'The Lord bless thee in all thy doings, and preserve thee from the Lilim!' The fourth-century A.D. commentator Hieronymus identified Lilith with the Greek Lamia, a Libyan queen deserted by Zeus, whom his wife Hera robbed of her children. She took revenge by robbing other women of theirs.

7. The Lamiae, who seduced sleeping men, sucked their blood and ate their flesh, as Lilith and her fellow-demonesses did, were also known as Empusae, 'forcers-in'; or Mormolyceia, 'frightening wolves'; and described as 'Children of Hecate'. A Hellenistic relief shows a naked Lamia straddling a traveller asleep on his back. It is characteristic of civilizations where women are treated as chattels that they must adopt the recumbent posture during intercourse, which Lilith refused. That Greek witches who worshipped Hecate favoured the superior posture, we know from Apuleius; and it occurs in early Sumerian representations of the sexual act, though not in the Hittite. Malinowski writes that Melanesian girls ridicule what they call `the missionary position', which demands that they should lie passive and recumbent.

8. Naamah, 'pleasant', is explained as meaning that 'the demoness sang pleasant songs to idols'. Zmargad suggest smaragdos, the semi-precious aquamarine; and may therefore be her submarine dwelling. A demon named Smaragos occurs in the Homeric Epigrams.

9. Eve's creation by God from Adam's rib-a myth establishing male supremacy and disguising Eve's divinity-lacks parallels in Mediterranean or early Middle-Eastern myth. The story perhaps derives iconotropically from an ancient relief, or painting, which showed the naked Goddess Anath poised in the air, watching her lover Mot murder his twin Aliyan; Mot (mistaken by the mythographer for Yahweh) was driving a curved dagger under Aliyan's fifth rib, not removing a sixth one. The familiar story is helped by a hidden pun on tsela, the Hebrew for 'rib': Eve, though designed to be Adam's helpmeet, proved to be a tsela, a 'stumbling', or 'misfortune'. Eve's formation from Adam's tail is an even more damaging myth; perhaps suggested by the birth of a child with a vestigial tail instead of a coccyx-a not infrequent occurrence.

10. The story of Lilith's escape to the East and of Adam's subsequent marriage to Eve may, however, record an early historical incident: nomad herdsmen, admitted into Lilith's Canaanite queendom as guests (see 16. 1), suddenly seize power and, when the royal household thereupon flees, occupy a second queendom which owes allegiance to the Hittite Goddess Heba.

The meaning of 'Eve' is disputed. Hawwah is explained in Genesis III. 20 as 'mother of all living'; but this may well be a Hebraicized form of the divine name Heba, Hebat, Khebat or Khiba. This goddess, wife of the Hittite Storm-god, is shown riding a lion in a rock-sculpture at Hattusaswhich equates her with Anath-and appears as a form of Ishtar in Hurrian texts. She was worshipped at Jerusalem (see 27. 6). Her Greek name was Hebe, Heracles's goddess-wife.

[astaroth1357]

How Often They Worry about MC…

For those who don’t know, I have a little dog named Charlie and she is a large portion of my world. There's no need to be alarmed, my dog is fine, but there are days where I hold her and all I can think about is how much I worry about her health down the line… I suppose we often do that for the people we love, particularly the ones who may not last as long as we will. Take that as inspiration if you'd like.

Lucifer 

Near constantly. 

If you tracked his blood pressure on a grid, you'd see it start to continuously rise about when he decided they were worth having in his life.

Lucifer is the eldest sibling to a whole crew of brothers so he's no stranger to worry. He worried about his brothers when they were young, he worried about them after the Fall, and he still worries about them now (even if he's less open about it).

But a part of him knows that his brothers can handle their own, at least to varying degrees. The MC, though? He's far less sure…

They've proven rather resilient, but also headstrong and reckless. Neither of which are good things to be in a place this dangerous...

If Lucifer isn't careful, he can catch himself staring at a wall or window just wondering where they are and if they're doing alright… If he called them every time he had a passing worry, their inbox would be full by the end each week.

He holds himself back because he doesn't have the time to constantly protect them, but that doesn't stop him from sending a text once or twice a day. They better respond or he'll start (secretly) panicking.

Mammon

He forgets their mortality from time to time, but every time he remembers it hits like a ton of bricks…

Mammon is a pretty "in-the-moment" person. He doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on the future, but whenever he does the thought of losing MC always comes back to him again and again.

Like. It's gotta happen eventually, right? They're human, humans die, hell they don't even live that long to start with!

The MC can always tell when Mammon's getting worried because he'll get uncharacteristically quiet and pace around or hover by them…

Every little injury or strenuous task will suddenly seem like too much to him as well. 

If they need to carry some boxes, he'll carry them all.

If they have to jog to class, he's carrying them. 

If they so much as get a papercut, he'll have a heart attack.

It's not very hard to get Mammon out of these funks - he really does want them to reassure him that they're okay - but he's never going to get fully over it…

Not until he can steal whatever top secret immortality formula Solomon must have used anyway… He'll get it off that bastard eventually.

Leviathan

Thinks about it so often he has to actively try not to just to get any peace…

He dodges his fears for MC like a protagonist dodges lasting consequences. Every time he feels one creeping up, he's always got a distraction waiting…

"Hey where's MC at? I hope they didn't fall into the riv-OH HEY CHECK OUT THIS NEW GAME!!"

"What are they doing over there…? That looks hard, what if they bre-WAIT DIDN'T MY FAVORITE VOICE ACTOR JUST RELEASE A NEW PODCAST???"

"What if the MC dies tomorrow and they leave me all alo-DEVIL FIGHT 200! YOU CAN'T BEAT DEVIL FIGHT 200, LET’S BREAK MY HIGH SCORE!!"

Cut him some slack, his psyche cannot handle the idea of losing them on top of everything else he grapples with every day.

If, on the rare occasion, he does let himself fall down that rabbit hole he becomes extra clingy and practically begs MC not to leave his room… like ever. He'd bubble wrap them if he could.

Anytime they get really hurt or really sick he refuses to leave their side even if it means he has to awkwardly sit on the floor. He just needs to be able to glance at them every so often to be sure they're alive… Still breathing?? Phew…

Satan

He worries, preps, rationalizes, then worries again…

For Satan, knowledge is power and every scrap of information he can learn about MC is more power he can use to keep them safe and healthy.

Yes, he will want their medical history. Yes, he's going to need a list of prescriptions. Family members too. And no, you do not get a choice.

He'll read up on as many things as he can - pawn medical journals off of witches and get magical alternatives from Solomon.

The cycle usually goes: 

1. He's lying awake at night because he just heard about some terrible bacteria that makes human's skin peel off or something.

2. He does all the research he can on this bacteria, its treatment options, best prevention methods, etc.

3. Gets right about to break out the rubber booties for MC to wear around, then realizes they have a very slim chance of catching said bacteria since it's only native to incredibly remote parts of Indonesia.

4. Feels instant relief that MC will probably not catch flesh-eating bacteria and can finally sleep again…

5. Hears of some other human medical horror from Solomon and starts to worry…

It's a vicious cycle indeed… But at least he's getting a lot of medical training. Soon enough he'll be the Devildom's version of a human vet (which I guess is just a doctor, come to think of it. 🤔)

Asmodeus 

Lives so "here-and-now" that he doesn't remember often, but when he does it's always heartbreaking…

Asmo usually tries to worry about things as little as possible. It’s bad for the skin, you know? But when the MC is involved, all of that goes out the window.

Like how a delicate blossom eventually wilts in the snow, the MC is bound to leave them in time… Usually there's supposed to be something beautiful in that kind of tragedy, but perhaps he's just too close to them to find any romance in it.

The thought of their death gives him breakouts and anytime they get hurt or sick he's the first brother to offer them comfort. Every time.

Because he doesn't feel like he's as physically strong as he brothers, he tries to make up for it by minding their health in other ways. Anything to keep his MC strong and beautiful as always!

If Asmo is in a worrying mood, then he may also compensate by trying to take the MC out to a party or some fun event. Why sit around worrying by himself when he could be making memories with them now, right?

Beelzebub

It comes in waves, mostly at night.

When your thoughts throughout the day are mostly, "I wish I wasn't so hungry," it doesn't afford you a lot of time to think about much else.

In a way, it's a good thing since he experiences a lot less stress. But those worries are still there and they mostly plague his dreams…

Beel doesn’t feel hungry when he's sleeping, so a lot of his fears will make themselves known overnight. An injured or dying MC is often in his rotation of nightmares though, of course, he'd rather it not be…

After having one of these dreams, his first instinct is to always make sure the MC is okay. If they're with him, he'll hug them and check their heartbeat. If they're somewhere else, he'll go to them or shoot a text.

He has woken up without realizing his nightmare was all a dream though, and usually it's up to Belphie or MC themselves to console him while he cries… It's so heartbreaking, sweet boy just puts a lot of pressure on himself to be sure they're safe…

When he worries, it's like they're the most beautiful and expensive China set in a room full of bulls and hammers. If he could tape them to his side, he probably would. He gets scared for them that much…

Belphegor 

More scared about it than anyone else in the House.

Despite his calm demeanor, Belphie is truly afraid of losing his loved ones beneath the surface… He's already lost one of his most dear siblings before, going through that again may just break him.

Unfortunately, he's also felt just how fragile the MC is firsthand... He's not even the strongest of his brothers, yet he was able to snuff them out so easily… Who's to say someone else won't try?

Like Beel, MC's death is a recurring nightmare for him but he can usually shake off his dreams fairly well, if not change them mid-sleep. More scary is when something is actually wrong with them or they're not feeling well.

Belphie always sets his inner laziness aside for the MC when he can. If they get sick, he'll usually be right along with his family to take care of them - even if he has to skip school to do so (not that he cares about class anyway).

When he's worrying about them, he tries to play it off at first, but soon enough they'll notice him acting overly concerned and losing sleep… Best to calm him down before he starts getting cranky.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Date bled or demon bros react to mc likes to nap and cuddle throughout the day

I’ll do the brothers! :D

Lucifer

…MC get off of him. He’s in a meeting.

Aaaaaaaaand they’re napping. Wonderful.

At first, Lucifer is annoyed that he’s got another Belphie on his hands, especially during the time when Belphie’s locked in the attic. How dare MC remind him of the brother that he’s holding under house arrest >:c

But once the relationship grows, Lucifer submits to the snuggles. Luci quickly realizes that he’s very not used to cuddling.

As long as MC isn’t napping through their classes, they’re good. Nap whenever you want, MC, just make sure your homework is done.

MC should expect the cuddling to be one sided in public, but behind closed doors? Hoo boy, the man’s attached to MC like a koala to a tree.

MC may have also accidentally fixed his sleep schedule… it’s just… why does he feel sleepy when he sees them nap? *yawn*

He’s just going to rest his eyes for a second, the paperwork can wait.

Mammon

G-gah! Stupid human! What do they think they’re doin’ cuddling up to him like that!? They do know he’s a demon right?

For the first little while, Mammon tsuderes it up, but he gets so easily flustered whenever MC leans on him that it renders everything he says pretty much meaningless.

The first time MC ever fell asleep on him it was absolutely magical. He slowly patted their head and refused to move until the next day. Sure, his back hurt and he didn’t get any sleep, but MC was just so cute dammit!

Deeper into the relationship, Mammon is the happiest demon alive because he doesn’t need to ask for snuggles! He just plops himself down next to MC and his human just cuddles up next to him!

His absolute favourite thing is when MC falls asleep on his lap. They did it in public once and Mammon took this opportunity to flex. Yeah, he has a cute human that likes to cuddle him, do you?!

Mammon’s only wish is that MC would be more awake when he’s explaining his totally legit business ideas, they always seem to fall asleep once he gets goin’

Leviathan

SISJDJSJSJDJDJSJJAJAKALSKA- PHYSICAL CONTACT?!?!?! WITH HIM?! it’s more likely than you’d think.

First part of the relationship when Levi had just made a pact with MC, he was kind of confused. He had tried to murk this normie just a couple of days ago and now they’re cuddling up next to him? What’s that abou-

Levi.exe has stopped working.

Yeah, Levi blue screening happens a LOT. It takes literal months for MC and Levi to snuggle properly on a regular basis.

As totally Kawaii MC is when they nap on him, they just need to see how this fight scene is animated! MC! MC! Look! Homura and Mami are- WAKE UP AND LOOK AT THIS!

Cuddling in public causes Levi to die a flustered death. Fs in the chat everyone, had a good life, he did.

Though, it makes him feel so much more comfortable whenever MC just holds his hand out in public and doesn’t make a big deal about it. It makes him feel safe ^.^

Satan

At first, Satan was taking notes on how this human got so comfortable so quickly that they just started cuddling people and napping everywhere. Hm, humans appear to be quite adaptable… interesting.

They also seem to lack any sense of danger. Well, at least this one does.

Later down the line though, when MC first crawled into Satan’s lap to nap, it rivalled the first time a cat chose him. This was wild.

Snuggles… while reading stories… yes please…

Okay, that part sounded better than it ended up being. MC fell asleep while cuddling and ended up right on Satan’s arm, then in their sleep, MC basically locked Satan’s entire right side into a vice grip and couldn’t be pried off. Basically, Satan had to reread the same page of his book over and over and over again because he didn’t want to wake up MC.

Well, call it a learning experience, and Satan loves to learn, so next time, he was prepared for MC’s death cuddles.

Apparently he wasn’t prepared enough because the exact same thing happened again… multiple times more.

MC is literally a walking relaxant, Satan is significantly less filled with burning rage when they’re around. Notice I said less filled, he will still cut a bitch.

Asmodeus

Oh~ how bold! MC just plopped themselves down next to him and cuddled up close to him!

At first, Asmo was amused by all the cuddling MC was doing and made quite a few less than wholesome jokes about it. The Avatar of Lust has a dirty mind! Shocker!

But hark! (The herald angels siiiiing-) Asmo actually… likes platonic snuggles?!?! What is this sorcery?!

If MC and Asmo don’t enter a romantic relationship, my man still needs his cuddle quota met, ASAP.

If they do end up dating, hoo boy, MC and Asmo sure do a lot of snuggling, and “snuggling”.

But overall, Asmo loves being held and cuddled, and sleep is good for one’s skin!

Beelzebub

*sniffle* Beeeeeeeeeelllllllllpppppphhhhhiiiiiiiiieeeeeee-

Congratulations MC, they have made Beel more sad about his twin being gone just by existing :D

Once the custard incident happens and MC and Beel grow closer, oh man, oh man oh man, is he in desperate need of cuddles.

If MC ever falls asleep anywhere and needs to get from point A to point B, fret not, Beel is prepared. He will gently pick them up and they will awaken at point B. How nice!

Once Belphie gets his ass out of the attic, MC has competition.

Not really, Beel has enough love to go around. Both his sleepy beans can get carried around and cuddled with. Beel is big and strong for a reason.

Since MC has a vice grip while they cuddle, Beel kind of walks around with them clinging to his arm like a sloth to a tree. Belphie also picks up on this behaviour and starts doing it too.

Someone (*cough* Levi and Mammon *cough*) took a picture and posted it on Devilgram and now it’s kind of a meme template.

Belphegor

Gasp! Whomst- whomst is this human who comes before him and cuddles up close to him? This must be his soulmate! His other half! His destined partner!

…his destined partner was drooling all over his cardigan.

Ah well, two can play that game motherfucker. *SNORE*

Anyway, Belphie and MC? I would say power couple but in reality, the two just do a lot of snuggling and sleeping, it’s like they’re attached at the hip.

The two are always touching in some way, Belphie resting his head on MC’s shoulder, MC attaching themselves to Belphie’s torso like a koala, the two of them trading spit with each other… you get the idea.

It gets weird when the two start legitimately visiting each other in dreams, it gets so frequent it basically becomes a date night thing to just sleep and do weird shit in dreamland.

“Hey MC do you wanna hang out?” “Sorry, can’t, it’s date night. *SNORE*” “Yeah, shoo. *S N O R E*”

On their most recent date, MC and Belphie fought a dragon and then ate a giant cake.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 5

Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.

Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  

=================================

She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.

Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.

Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.

Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.

Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.

Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.

And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.

Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.

“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.

“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.

Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”

Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”

“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.

Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.

She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.

“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.

Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.

“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”

“How different are we talking?”

Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”

“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.

“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”

Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.

Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  

The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.

“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.

“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.

“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”

Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.

Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.

Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.

“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.

Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.

“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.

“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.

“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”

Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.

“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”

Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.

“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.

Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.

“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.

She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.

“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.

“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”

Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.

“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.

“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”

Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.

“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”

Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 

“How many lovers have you taken?”

He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”

“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.

He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”

Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”

Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”

“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”

“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”

“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.

If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.

“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”

Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”

Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”

The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.

Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.

“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 

Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.

Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.

“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”

“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”

“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”

“So?”

Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.

“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.

With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.

As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.

With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.

He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.

And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.

Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.

Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.

“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.

“Yes?”

Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”

His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”

Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”

“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”

She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.

“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”

“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.

“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”

Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.

“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”

Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.

“Why would we do that?”

A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”

They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.

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Part 6